Moon Promise

by Carmen Fox

  “Reality happened.” I gave a bitter chuckle, gestured loosely with my fingers, then slumped my shoulders. “I guess we weren’t thinking clearly when we kissed. Didn’t consider how it would change the dynamics between us.”

  He opened his mouth again, then dropped his arms.

  “Maybe we should act like it never happened?” My words hadn’t been intended to form a question.

  If Drake disagreed, if he turned to me and asked me to kiss him again, I might not have the strength to deny him.

  “Yeah. Maybe.” He got out of the pickup and slammed the door.

  Case in point. My objective assessment of the situation had pissed him off, but what could I do? Change who I was? Even if I’d never know my inner wolf, Dad’s alpha genes ran strong inside me. Things would always be done “my way.” There was no “or.”

  We marched up the drive to Cody’s house, and Drake rang the bell.

  Cody opened the door and slid his gaze from Drake to me. “I thought you’d be back. At least you dropped Loser Leo.” He slurred his words. “Come in. Come in.”

  Maybe the alcohol would loosen his tongue. It usually did mine.

  His T-shirt, once white, now swam in a gray that no amount of laundry detergent could brighten. He padded on socks into the living room, where the reek of food clung to the curtains, mixed in with the smell of stale beer.

  “How do you want to accuse me today?” He fell into his worn armchair and reached for a bottle from a knee-high table next to him.

  I tightened my jacket around me and sat where I’d sat last time.

  Drake leaned casually against the narrow bit of wall between two windows.

  “I don’t.” I leaned forward. “I’m so sorry about Leo’s behavior, Cody. How are you doing?”

  He laughed and held up his bottle. “The way I’ve been doing since the day...” He sucked in air. “Since the day I left her behind.”

  “We haven’t told the police about you, but you know they’ll eventually put two and two together, right?” I kept my expression smooth and my tone soft. “They’ll go through CCTV footage, ask your friends, canvass the shops. Someone will have seen you two together.”

  Cody shrugged. “Prob-ly.”

  “I can help.”

  He gave a bitter laugh. “Can you make her alive again?”

  He was still convinced she was dead, and I didn’t have the stomach to contradict him.

  “You know the answer.” I dropped my gaze.

  “Then I ain’t inter’sted.” He closed his eyes, beer bottle balancing on his lap.

  Drake gestured with his eyes to dig deeper. He was right. Softly, softly wasn’t getting me anywhere. At least he didn’t just take over.

  “Leo suspects you were holding something back.” I perched on the edge of the seat, forcing Cody to look at me. “Was he right?”

  Cody’s blood-shot eyes narrowed. “No, I fucking wasn’t. Bitch.”

  Drake’s dominance flooded the room, and I sent him a warning stare. Humans didn’t sense dominance, but I wasn’t that lucky. Drake crossed his arms, but let his power fizzle.

  “I know you’re angry.” I focused back on Cody. “When was the last time you ate anything?”

  Once again he raised the bottle. “Got all I need ra’ here.”

  “Unless you want the cops on your doorstep, I suggest you start being helpful.” I grabbed my knees to prevent myself from shaking sense into him.

  His jaw tightened. He curled his fingers around the neck of his bottle, wringing it, or trying to, then shot to his feet. The bottle smashed against the table. Shards scattered through the room.

  He raised the jagged remains above his head. His eyes gave away his intentions.

  I threw myself sideways onto the sofa, just as he swiped his weapon down at me. Christ.

  “Shi-it.” His own momentum knocked him off-balance, and he wobbled.

  Drake soared into view and overpowered Cody with his mass alone, as both fell to the floor. Cody had lost his enthusiasm for the fight and lay still underneath the protector’s powerful body.

  Idiots. Why did men have to be slaves to their testosterone? Violence wasn’t just their first recourse, it was their only recourse.

  I checked the floor around the two men for the bottle fragment. The last thing I needed was to leave a weapon lying around. It wasn’t on the carpet, nor on the sofa.

  My lungs turned to ice. Had Cody fallen on it?

  “Are you okay? Guys?” I kneeled next to the two men and shook Drake by his shoulder, then prodded Cody.

  Muffled gulps came from beneath Drake, like an old man in the last stages of pneumonia.

  Cody was alive.

  Trapped under a motionless body.

  “Drake?” I whispered. Why wasn’t he getting up? “Stop messing with me.”

  I leaned in to listen for his breath.

  Silence.

  He couldn’t be hurt. Not Drake. He was too strong, too powerful to be harmed by a drunk human.

  “Hey.” I stroked his hair, my voice jittery. “Get up. Please. Please get up.”

  Cody grunted.

  “Shut up,” I shouted, before hovering close to Drake’s ear. “Say something. Or you can shrug. Shrugging would be great.” I briefly closed my eyes. “Please.”

  He moaned, and it was the most beautiful sound in the world. His head moved, then his shoulders, as he pushed himself onto his knees.

  Blood soaked through his T-shirt, which sported a large tear. He ripped out the bottle fragment, leaving a gash that spidered high up on his chest. Damn, that looked deep.

  “Hang on.” I scrambled up and ran into the kitchen, then the bathroom, to find a towel, anything to stem the flow of blood.

  Drake was strong, stronger than anyone I knew, and probably no stranger to injuries. He’d be okay.

  Jeez, what a stupid thing to say. One wound wasn’t exactly like another. What if this one was life threatening?

  I kicked the radiator next to the empty bathroom shelf. Didn’t Cody own anything that was clean? I sprinted back into the living room and took off my jacket, but its fabric was too stiff to serve as a bandage.

  His expression distorted into a grimace, Drake swayed. Cody’s gaze tracked his motions as if in a trance, but made no move to help.

  I twirled on my feet. The curtains were filthy. The throw pillows—hell, I didn’t even wanna touch them. Fuck it. With my back to Drake, I ripped off my top, put my jacket back on, buttoned up, and kneeled beside him.

  “You’ll be fine.” I dabbed my vest against his chest. “Can you speak?”

  He winced, but at least stopped swaying. “That hurts.”

  The bottle pieces lay between a kneeling Drake and Cody’s sprawled body.

  “Why do they sell beer in glass? I don’t get it.” I shook my head. “Soda, milk, fruit juice—plastic and cartons are good enough for them. But alcohol, which has a habit of turning men into idiots? Sure, let’s pour that stuff into glass so you can really smash each other’s brains out.”

  Drake made a weird sound, and I eased my pressure against his wound.

  A touch of pink returned to his cheeks, and I traced his jawline with my finger. My hand shook. Seriously shook. How easily a little scrap could have turned deadly. I willed my lungs to inflate, but they refused to obey. Breathe, Kensi. And calm the fuck down. A chest wound this close to the shoulder blade wasn’t going to kill him, not even one this deep. But he would need to shift soon if he wanted to heal without a scar.

  “I’m sorry.” Cody’s quiet gulps morphed into sobs. “I’m so sorry.”

  I rubbed comforting circles on Drake’s head, kept him close by my body, ready to leap into action should Cody flip out again.

  “This is all fucked up,” Cody whispered. “God, I’m sorry.”

  I leaned past Drake toward the wretched figure lying prone on the floor. “Pull yourself together, man.”

  “Sorry. Oh God.” His leg kicked out. “Raven.”

&n
bsp; The bastard couldn’t even feel sorry for what he’d done to Drake, but maybe I was finally getting answers. “Did you hurt Raven, Cody? Is that why you’re sorry?”

  He violently shook his head. “Not me. No.”

  “Do you know who did?”

  “You don’t understand.”

  “Try me.”

  He rolled away from Drake, lifted his head from the floor and plonked it back down onto the rug. Tears streaked his face, and a red patch spread under his left eye.

  “Someone followed us to the lake a few times.” Snot flowed from his nose, which he sucked back in with one loud sniff. “That’s what Raven said. She could hear better, see? She knew someone was watching us from the trees. I told her not to be para... para...”

  “Paranoid?”

  He gave an almost imperceptible nod. “The park was private, so I didn’t think nothing of it, y’know? But maybe... What if she stayed behind to confront him?” He snuffled loudly. “If I’d been with her. I could have protected her.”

  “Who was watching you?” I shot a side-glance down at Drake, who sat still with his head against my chest. “Her parents? A stranger?”

  “Someone she knows, is all she said.” He rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “God, I should have believed her.”

  Even though the flow from Drake’s wound had slowed, I kept my makeshift dressing in place. “Who was it? I need a name.”

  “She didn’t say, did she?” He lowered his eyelids. “But he warned her not to see me anymore, she said, and that he got really weird about it. I thought she was playing with me. Trying to make me jealous.”

  “But it was a man. You’re sure?”

  “Yes, I told you.” He held a hand over his eyes. “Can you leave? I don’t know anything else.”

  “Are you okay to walk?” I gently removed the red-stained top from Drake’s wound, which was no longer seeping.

  “Yeah. I’m good.”

  I helped him to his feet. Even though he grimaced through the movement, he didn’t stumble or look excessively pale.

  “Do you want to go to the hospital?” My voice matched the tenseness in my shoulders.

  He took hesitating steps. “I need to run, that’s all.”

  His words helped unknot my shoulders.

  “Okay. I’ll drive.” I held my hand out for his key.

  “Yeah, that’s not gonna happen.” He lightly kicked Cody’s leg. “See you, buddy. Get your life together, will you?”

  We headed out the door into the falling darkness, his arm draped over my shoulder. When we reached the pickup, I snatched his keys from his hand.

  He growled. “We talked about this.”

  “You talked.” I dragged him to the passenger side and dropped him in the seat. “I didn’t agree. When are you going to get it through your thick head that I know what I’m doing?”

  “When hell freezes over? When pigs learn to fly? When you’re actually right?” He shrugged and instantly winced. “Take your pick. They’re equally likely.”

  I sat behind the steering wheel, turned on the headlights, and adjusted the seat and mirrors. The truck purred to life. That’s right. I knew how to bend machines to my will. With a little coaxing of the pedals, this could be a smooth ride.

  But after Drake’s condescending comments?

  I tore away from the sidewalk, and then yanked the steering wheel around for a less than elegant turn. The front wheel crunched past the curb, and I nearly clipped a parked car.

  Drake smacked against the door and pressed his hand against his injury. “Hell, do you even know how to drive?”

  “I passed the test, but how much of it I remember will depend entirely on you and your behavior. Capisce?”

  He gave a low rumble that could have been a chuckle, but was more likely a dissenting opinion.

  Tough. Tonight, I was the one in charge. A temporary situation in his mind, no doubt, because Drake’s stubbornness might just be more enduring than mine. He was annoying that way—and yet oddly adorable. Even though I found enjoyment in having the upper hand for once, the sooner he’d be back to challenging me for the lead, the better.

  Seventeen

  The journey led us through single-family homes and their lit windows into the pitch-black woods. Drake had his eyes mostly closed. Only now and again did he move and give directions.

  His beautiful brick-built cottage lay nestled deep inside the forest, not a fence or paving in sight. A circular patch of dirt and earth served as a parking lot. But all this disappeared from view the second I turned off the headlights.

  I gave my eyes a minute to adjust, then helped Drake out of the truck.

  The living room had a homey feel, although those little touches—the throw pillows on the sofa, the curtains, and the paintings on the wall—could have done with modernization and the walls with a fresh coat of paint.

  “My parents left this place to me. My brother got the other house.” Drake held his breath and fell into an armchair.

  “Can I get you anything? Gauze? Bandages?”

  “Later maybe. I’m going to go for a run. The shift should heal the worst of it.” He squinted up. “Wanna come?”

  I awkwardly pointed toward the kitchen that I’d spied on my way in. “I’ll make us food. Assuming I can find more than a package of ramen in your bachelor pad.”

  “Who says I’m a bachelor?”

  “If you’re not, maybe I should have a chat with your girlfriend about our kiss.”

  He heaved himself off the armchair and approached. That inch or two he had on me wasn’t the only reason for his confidence. His self-assurance came from deep within, not just as part of his dominance, but a constant reminder of his power.

  This extra, this je-ne-sais-quoi, was what I worked so hard to master in order to cover up my shortcomings, yet he wore it like an old sweater.

  I held my ground, even managed to lift my chin.

  He circled my hands around his neck and gifted me with a deep, sensual kiss that made my lids close and my insides gooey. He claimed my mouth with possessive determination, went so deep my lungs struggled for breath, and yet when he released me, I was seized by a feeling of loss.

  “Only wanted to make sure you hadn’t forgotten.” He rolled back his voice to sexy as hell—and strode upright toward the door.

  On his way, he pulled the T-shirt off his smooth, defined back and got to work on his belt in preparation for his shift.

  Before he got to the good stuff, he was out of sight.

  I placed two fingers against my lips. No, that wasn’t a kiss I was likely to forget.

  Was this flirtation of ours headed toward a crash landing? Sex lay in the cards, plain as day, but there was an outside chance our brains prevailed. Very, very far outside. Shoot. Who knew the protector who was supposed to shield me from trouble was the one getting me into it? Because neither Jonah nor my dad would be impressed with the two investigators sleeping together while on the job.

  Drake’s pots and pans hid in the cupboard near the stove, forks and knifes in the left drawer. Exactly where I’d have stored them. The drawer on the right contained an assortment of batteries, screws, and instruction manuals. While the pasta was boiling, I sneaked out into the hall, lined with photos of Drake and his friends—including an assortment of pretty women. Many. Different. Women. Some snuggled up to him in an embrace that indicated they’d been more than friends.

  If my assumption was correct, he certainly had a type. Long dark hair, tall build, slim but not skinny. Would he add me to his wall, a pleasant reminder of that woman he once knew?

  I shook myself loose and returned to the kitchen. A quick fling was the best way forward for us both. What was the alternative? He’d mend his ways, play second fiddle to my ego, and return to Chicago with me? I sat at the table, supporting my chin with my palm, and grinned. Not Drake. That man wasn’t going to be anyone’s plus one.

  In fact, a one-and-done wasn’t the worst idea. Our kisses hadn’t gotten
him out of my system, but a night with him surely would. Right?

  The pasta and canned vegetable combo I made bubbled on the stove. Cooking had never been my strength, but my concoction offered a basic, filling meal, while salt, pepper and spices would make up for my shortcomings.

  About twenty minutes after he’d left, Drake returned. His wound no longer seemed to trouble him, and he greeted me with a peck on my cheek.

  “Help yourself.” I pointed at the food, which I’d left on the counter to ensure he didn’t think of me in an overly domestic context. “Did the run do the trick?”

  He filled a plate, fell into a chair, and picked up his glass of water. “I’m nearly healed. I’ll have a shower later, maybe put a bandage on to keep it clean, but it’s all good.”

  I shoveled food into my mouth. “You’ve been a very brave boy.”

  Drake tipped his imaginary hat. “Why, thank you, ma’am.”

  Actually, the meal tasted okay. Then again, pasta was difficult to get wrong.

  “Cody didn’t get us anywhere, did he?” I pushed up my sleeves.

  Since my top had served to mop up blood, I only sported a bra under my jacket. The cottage might be set deep in the woods, but the omission of an AC system had been a mistake.

  Drake, once again seemingly unaffected by the heat, placed the glass back onto the table and folded his hands. “Not quite. Talking to Cody convinced me you’re right. He didn’t kill Raven.”

  “I’m right, you say?” I dropped my fork and smacked my flat palm against my heart. “Oh dear. Is it the fever? Are you that sick?”

  The tip of his tongue made a brief appearance from between his lips. “You’re prone to exaggerations. In any case, I bought his story. I didn’t want to, but Cody’s not hugely creative, if you catch my drift. I also believe Raven’s claim that someone was following them.”

  “Someone Raven knew.”

  He heaved a sigh. “Yeah. Someone she knew.”

  “Like another wolf.”

  He snapped up his head, and his eyes appeared to flash, but in the end, he gave a browbeaten shrug. “Another wolf is a possibility. Yes.”