Moon Bound

by Stephanie Julian

  Steven followed, but she outdistanced him in seconds, fear giving her wings. Vaguely, she felt some power call to her, something that wanted her to slow, to calm, to wait.

  She was too far gone to wait. She barely felt the underbrush tear at her legs as she raced home.

  It didn’t take her long to reach the house by the edge of the woods. An unfamiliar, battered Jeep sat in the dirt driveway.

  Her heart leapt to see her brother sitting on its tailgate, head in his hands.

  “Cole!”

  Her scream made him lift his head and she saw tears streaming down his face.

  “Are you okay?” She skidded to a stop by his side and threw her arms around his shoulders. “What’s going on? Where’s Mom and Dad?”

  Cole’s arms wrapped around her waist and crushed her against him, as if he needed the comfort.

  And that terrified her.

  “Cole?”

  “I’m sorry, Bella. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t help…they were already gone.”

  That’s when she saw them. Or rather, their bodies.

  Cal, her mother, her father. Lying next to the house while a stranger stood over them, hands outstretched, chanting.

  “No!”

  She tore away from Cole and ran for them, for her mom, but another pair of arms came around her from behind and lifted her off her feet.

  Kicking and crying, she fought to get away.

  Steven held her, crooning something she didn’t fully understand in her ear. The words helped to calm her but the grief continued to build.

  “Let her go, Steven. It’s alright.”

  “Dad, I don’t think—”

  “She needs to see. Come here, Arabella.”

  The man who’d been standing over her parents and brother stood and held out his hand. She ignored him and ran for her family, dropping to her knees beside them.

  Cal had a wound on his chest. Mom did, too. There was a blanket over her dad’s face. Instinctively, she reached for it, but the man who’d called to her grabbed her hand.

  She turned. He looked somewhat like the boy, though he was older and his dark hair was laced with gray.

  “You don’t want to do that.” The man’s voice held a gentle note despite his hard expression. “They shot him first. They had to, or he could have beaten them. Your mother and brother fought well, but the cowards shot them both in the back.”

  Her chest hurt so bad, she didn’t know if she could breathe. Gone. Her parents were gone. And Cal, too.

  She sobbed, laying her head on her mom’s stomach and cried even harder at the stillness of the body.

  * * *

  Steven watched the girl pour out her agony with her tears, his own sense of failure weighing on his shoulders.

  They’d been too late. His dad, a legendary Etruscan grigorio with magical powers to rival the gods, had gotten the call only an hour ago that the lucani royal family was under attack. They’d raced up here from Chester County but the four Malandante assassins had killed Cole and Bella’s parents and older brother before his dad had killed them.

  In one swoop, the Mal had killed the king and queen of the Etruscan lucani and their oldest heir. As one of the last royal versipelli families in the world, their deaths would rock the foundation of the magical Etruscan society in America.

  The question was, why now? The lucani hadn’t made any aggressive moves on the Mal in years. More like centuries. The Luporeales had been more interested in keeping the lucani from splintering into factions.

  Why the hell had the Mal killed them?

  And broken this girl’s heart?

  After a while, Arabella’s sobs finally faded but her expression was so desolate, his heart hurt for her. The boy, Cole, was just as devastated. His dad was talking to Cole now, his voice strong and solid as Cole cried too.

  Leaving Steven with Arabella.

  Kneeling next to the girl, remembering the absolute sorrow he’d felt when his mom had died, he laid his hand on her shoulder.

  After several minutes, she finally calmed enough to look up at him, her pretty face red and blotchy. He wanted to take away all her fear, all her sorrow. He wanted to make this better.

  He knew he couldn’t.

  “We need to go.” He held out his hand and watched as she stared at it for several seconds. Finally, she took it and let him draw her to her feet. Then he picked her up in his arms and held her against his chest. She couldn’t weigh more than eighty pounds.

  “We can’t leave them.” Her voice, barely a whisper, reverberated against his chest.

  “We won’t.” He kept his voice soft, not wanting to make her cry again. “We’ll bury them first.”

  Her lower lip trembled and she bit into it until she drew blood. “Where are we going? Where’s Cole?”

  “Cole’s right here. He’s coming with us, too. You’ll live with us now. I’ll take care of you, Arabella.”

  Chapter Two

  Present Day

  Bella stared at the envelope in her hand, chest tight as she traced his name with her finger.

  Would he come? Hell, would he even open the damn thing when he realized it was from her?

  Damn him to the depths of Aitás and the not-so-loving embrace of a tukhulkha demon. She was so sick of this situation.

  Her nose wrinkled and she sighed. Okay, maybe the demon was a little much. She didn’t want him injured. At least, not permanently.

  She needed him. And he needed her.

  Last week had proved it.

  The blasted man either didn’t have a clue what was going on in his narrow little world or he didn’t care and was lost to her forever.

  Sudden, agonizing pain burned in her chest, like acid on skin. Her lungs contracted and tears gathered in her eyes.

  Damn him.

  He’d been gone three years. Three, torturous years and she’d had enough.

  He would come back.

  Whether he wanted to or not.

  * * *

  I need you. Please come.

  The note wasn’t signed but Steven Carter would recognize that handwriting anywhere.

  He didn’t know if he was more shocked by the letter’s arrival or by Bella’s use of the word “please.”

  Then shock gave way to something else, something dark and forbidden. Something he’d worked hard to eradicate from his life these past three years.

  Fierce, hot desire.

  His body wanted to wallow in it, to let it rise up and devour him whole. He wanted to go to her, run to her and—

  And what? What has changed?

  Not a damn thing.

  With an effort, Steven submerged those feelings and the fierce rush of anger that came with them. He couldn’t afford the emotion.

  Rising, he tossed the note on the desk and walked to the wall of windows overlooking Tampa Bay. Strong summer sunshine beat on the glass but behind it, here on the top floor, he was cool.

  He’d worked hard the past three years to get here, to this office. To forget that the name his coworkers called him was as much a cover as the expensive clothes he wore. To forget the life he’d left behind. To forget her.

  The contract on his desk, a will for one of the richest men in the state, showed just how far he’d come.

  Garrison Laveau trusted Steven to write a will that would screw his family six ways to Sunday. Laveau was a twisted son-of-a-bitch with more power and money than any man should have. And he’d chosen Steven to do his dirty work.

  Bella had chosen him once. From the moment they’d met, eleven years ago, they’d been inseparable.

  Until it had all fallen apart three years ago.

  Why had she contacted him now?

  “Steven.”

  The woman’s voice caught him off guard and he took a brief second to compose his expression before he turned to face Tiffani Jones.

  The dark wood of the door trim framed her blonde beauty perfectly, her aristocratic features the very definition of haughty. Smart, spoiled and supr
emely self-absorbed, Tiff wanted for nothing and what she couldn’t get for herself, her father—Steven’s mentor and a senior partner at Case and Jones—gave her.

  Unfortunately, she’d set her sights on Steven.

  He’d tried to disabuse her of the notion but she clung to the thought like a terrier with a bone.

  He didn’t have to force a smile with that thought rolling around his head. Good thing she couldn’t read his mind. “Hello, Tiffani. What’s up?”

  She waved a piece of paper in his direction. “The museum gala is next Friday. We need to RSVP today.”

  He stifled a sigh at her possessive tone and forced an appropriately apologetic smile. “I’d love to but I’ve got too much on my plate at the moment. And I may have to take a trip.”

  May being the operative word.

  Tiff pouted full lips, designed by the best plastic surgeon money could buy. Steven couldn’t help compare them to another woman’s more beautiful mouth. Bella never pouted. She snarled or beamed, scowled or grinned. Nothing as tame as a pout.

  Damn, now he had Bella on the brain. And that was dangerous.

  “Then dinner tonight.” Tiff’s eyebrows lifted. “Daddy said I should bring you along and not take no for an answer.”

  And that, he knew, was a royal command. Still…

  He glanced at the note on his desk. What was he going to do?

  “Steven? Tonight? What time should I expect you?”

  He looked into Tiff’s contact-enhanced blue eyes, saw her knowledge that she had him by the balls and liked it.

  Fuck. That.

  His chin lifted. “I’m afraid I have to decline. I’m taking a few days off. I’ve got business in Pennsylvania. I’ll be back Tuesday.”

  Tiff’s lips parted in shock and Steven had a short-lived victory that quickly turned to realization of what he’d agreed to.

  He was going home, which had more to do with where she was than a geographical area.

  Tiff recovered quickly, a shrewd look in her eyes. “I thought your dad died a few years ago.”

  “He did.” Three years and three months ago to be exact. One more loss. “One of my dad’s wards needs…help.”

  “I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

  The arrogance in Tiff’s voice put his back up and he had to rein in the urge to use just a tiny bit of power and redirect her misguided affections. But that would be like a reformed crack addict thinking he could have just one more fix.

  Power was dangerous. Magic, off limits.

  And Bella…forbidden.

  Still, he couldn’t ignore her plea. She never asked. She always demanded.

  This was different. Something was wrong.

  Steven looked Tiffani in the eyes again and smiled, pouring on the charm he’d become known for instead of the power he fought back every day. “Ask your father if dinner when I get back could be arranged. I’ll see you when I return.”

  * * *

  Remo Paganelli stared out the window of his home in The Majestic on Central Park West.

  Central Park was a sea of green at the moment but not for long. Fall was nearly here and the leaves would turn brown and blow away like so much dirt.

  Good thing he’d never have to worry about shriveling up and dying like those leaves. His father had taken care of that little problem with mortality five hundred years ago.

  And all it’d cost was the death of Fabrizio Paganelli’s beloved youngest son, Christo.

  Who’d been a complete waste of space as far as Remo was concerned.

  Still, Christo’s death had been Remo’s gain so Remo figured he should be thankful to his little brother for dying of cancer and throwing their father into a black pit of despair.

  Who would’ve thought their father, a member of the Malandante, an ancient and powerful cult of Etruscan magic users, would have been able to convince Veive, the Etruscan God of Revenge, to lay a curse on the heads of the streghe, Etruscan witches who’d failed to save his son?

  And who could have expected Fabrizio to screw it up so wonderfully and not only curse the streghe to everlasting life but have that curse rebound on his three remaining sons?

  That had just been pure good luck.

  Staring out on the expanse of his adopted hometown, most of which he could see from these windows, Remo spared a moment to wonder at the whereabouts of his spineless younger brothers, Dario and Parente. Immortality had been wasted on them. They’d whined and bitched and wrung their hands like women, crying about being taken out of the natural order of life.

  Not Remo. Only he’d been smart enough to see the beauty and advantage of eternity. He’d embraced it, thrived on it.

  Never wanted it to end.

  Dario… Remo sneered thinking about his youngest remaining brother. For centuries Dario had hunted the streghe, believing that when he’d burned all of their bodies to ash, the curse would be broken.

  In five-hundred years, the fool had only managed to kill three of the thirteen women.

  Remo shook his head. Christ, how inept did you have to be to manage to kill only three women in five hundred years?

  Damn good thing Dario would never come to him for a job. Even though they were family, Remo didn’t need another screw-up on his staff. He had enough of those already.

  What he didn’t have was powerful magic.

  Parente had inherited the lion’s share of their father’s gift, leaving only crumbs for Remo and Dario.

  How the hell was he supposed to become a god among men if he didn’t have the power to back it up?

  For five hundred years, Remo had built an empire. Five hundred years to amass a fortune, manipulate world leaders, gather information. Five hundred years leading the Malandante from behind the scenes.

  But what good was all that if he was unable to wield true power himself?

  Remo felt his arus rise, like warm cognac flowing through his body. Lifting his fingers, he directed a stream of power down into the street below.

  And smiled when a taxi crashed into the Benz in front of it. The driver of the Benz jumped out of the car, arms waving, red-faced. The taxi driver barely paid him any attention as he reached for his phone.

  Damn, no blood.

  That was the problem. He wanted blood.

  He wanted the power to control the elements. He knew only one man who could.

  And Remo had decided he wanted that power. He was sick of waiting for the man to agree to work for him.

  He would take what he wanted.

  Even if that meant he had to enlist the aid of a real god.

  * * *

  Steven’s cell rang as he tossed clothes in a duffel bag, enough for the weekend.

  The digital display read Private Caller. He answered on the off-chance it was her.

  “Bella?”

  “Where the hell is she?”

  Steven knew that deep growl, though they hadn’t spoken for three years. “Cole! Dio, Cole—”

  “Where is she? Is she with you? You bastard, you promised you’d stay away from her.”

  Pain slashed into his chest like sharp claws but he kept his voice steady. “She’s not here.”

  There was a pause and Steven heard the man he loved like a brother take a deep breath, trying to control the temper that could overwhelm him if he wasn’t careful. And Cole had learned to be very careful.

  “Then where the hell is she?” Cole spoke each word carefully, as if they were trying to get away from him.

  Shit, Cole didn’t know where she was either.

  Not good.

  When he’d first read the note, his immediate reaction had been to call his best friend. For eight years after the death of Cole’s parents, they’d shared a room, their secrets, their lives. And then everything had gone to shit.

  Three fucking years.

  Anger started to creep into his spine. “I got a note in the mail today. ‘I need you. Please come.’ What the hell does that mean? What’s going on?”

  Cole sighed and
Steven heard a wealth of frustration in the sound. “Baciami il culo. I don’t know. She dropped off the radar a week ago and I haven’t heard from her since. I’ve tried to call her but I haven’t been able to get through to her cell and if she’s at the house, she’s not answering the phone. You were my last call.”

  Hurt sideswiped him even as fear took a bite out of his lungs. Three years ago, he would’ve been the first person Cole called.

  Of course, he hadn’t picked up the phone to call Cole in all that time either, so…

  Focus. No time for past bullshit now. “What do you mean, she disappeared?”

  “I mean, she hasn’t called and I haven’t been able to reach her. Why the hell would she get in touch with you? I’m her brother.”

  Steven’s back straightened at Cole’s tone. “I know that. You never let me forget.”

  Cole sighed again. “Shit. Shit. That’s not— Fuck. Where the hell is she, Steven?”

  Fear had started to seep into Cole’s voice and Steven tried not to let it crank up his own anxiety. They’d find her. They had to. “The note didn’t say where she was, just that she needed me. I’m assuming she’s at your parents’ house because she knows that’s the first place I’d look for her. I’m getting ready to go there now.”

  Does she still need me?

  And if she did, what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing had changed.

  “Why the hell did she send for you and not me?” Cole asked.

  Good question. “Are you two fighting again?”

  Cole huffed. “We’re always fighting about something, you know that. We talked two weeks ago. She was in Philly, getting ready to go to work. She didn’t mention anything out of the ordinary. We don’t talk as much as we used to so I only called her three days ago and haven’t been able to reach her.” Cole took an unsteady breath. “What if the Mal caught up with her? What if—”

  “Jesus, Cole. Chill. You sound like a fucking old woman. Pull it together.” There would be time to fall apart later. “The letter was postmarked two day ago.”

  “Two days.” Now Steven heard anger in Cole’s voice. The guy’s mood swings were almost as bad as his had been. “Vaffanculo. I’m gonna strangle her. Steven, I can’t lose—”