by Laura Del
Dueling Moons
A Pat Wyatt Novel
Laura Del
Copyright © 2014 Laura Del
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1500841897
ISBN 13: 9781500841898
Library of Congress Control Number: 2014914727
CreateSpace Independent Publishing Platform
North Charleston, South Carolina
I dedicate this novel to Samantha and Rocky…
All dogs are heaven on Earth, and they were
a piece of my heart.
Thank you for putting a smile on my face.
You were a part of the pack, and you will
always be missed.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Prologue
When men duel, they fight for love, honor, truth, and chastity. Well, I wouldn’t know about chastity, but I do know a thing or two about duels. It’s a fight to the death, with one or none of the parties surviving.
A duel is a scary thing. A bullet or a blade through the heart or an artery and you’re done for. But what if you can’t help it? What if a duel is the only way out? What if it is the only way you, or the ones you love, can survive? What then? You stand tall, put your big girl panties on, and do what needs to be done.
Like the moon: it does what it has to because it relies on its orbit. If something were to happen to that, it would fall from the sky or move through space all willy-nilly. We would lose the moon forever, and when we looked up at night there would be a big hole where it used to be.
So if the moon can rely on its orbit then I have to rely on my instincts, even if those instincts told me to fight someone I knew I would never be able to defeat. It would be a duel to the end. And in the end, there would be nothing but darkness; darkness and death.
chapter
ONE
“Mike!” I called him as I crawled on the floor. “Michael!” I screamed again, looking under the coffee table. “Michael Ray Wolf! Where in the hell is my left shoe?” I had been looking for it for over an hour. It was part of my favorite black pair of Birkenstocks, and I couldn’t seem to find it. I was very upset. It seemed like every full moon my shoes went missing. Since we moved to Gretna, Louisiana over three months ago, I had lost four pairs. I had to learn how to hide them. With a werewolf for a lover, I really should have known better.
Mike walked out of the small bedroom of our band new miniature apartment, with only a pair of jeans on. My werewolf stood about five-ten with broad shoulders, beautiful dirty blonde hair that always winded up in his sparkling green eyes, a tanned muscular body that had grown darker—even with the cold December weather we were having—since all he seemed to do was stay in the sun all day.
He rubbed the back of his neck—which was an annoying yet endearing habit of his—as he pulled out the shredded hundred-dollar shoe from behind his back.
I sat on my heels, feeling as though I might punch him in the face. “Oh, Mike! Come on, man!” I climbed up onto the big purple couch, plopping down with a frustrated sigh. I turned my eyes upwards so I wouldn’t have to see the ruined shoe, part of my favorite pair. Did I mention I wanted to hit him?
“I’m sorry,” he said, his deep southern voice sounding very sad and apologetic.
“Do you have the money to buy me another pair?”
He shook his head, and I rolled my eyes. “It’s fine. I’ll pay for them. But next time you change, try not to eat my shoes.” I couldn’t stay mad at him and not just because he looked like a lost puppy, but ever since we had left the Hamptons, he had been a little short on cash. And when I say a “little,” I mean my vampire of a husband had all of his assets frozen.
We had run away from Samuel, and he couldn’t accept the fact that I despised his undead guts. So he decided that he was going to punish Mike by any means necessary. Also, Samuel ruined Mike’s chances of finding any kind of work, which frustrated the hell out of him, and infuriated me. Our income now consisted of (what I liked to call) my freelance money.
I work for a magazine in New York City. My boss promised to put me on full time rotation but that fell through when he talked to the higher-ups. Samuel’s doing, no doubt. I’m sure Joey had done his best. Meanwhile, I had to find work in Gretna in order to pay the rent and the bills. Thankfully, I had successfully found a job, and that made poor old Mike feel even worse. After all, the only thing my bastard of a husband let me do was get my clothes and jewelry from his house. And I don’t even think he would have allowed that if it weren’t for a certain queen of all vampires.
I mean, I was almost twenty-seven years old, and I never thought that I would have to deal with this kind of shit. But this was my life now, and I just had to deal with it.
Mike sat next to me on the couch, kissing my cheek. “You’re wonderful, you know that?”
“Yes, I know. Mike,” I sighed his name, “I think you should go see the pack. I’m sure they’ll help with this…” I paused, trying to think of the right word, “Situation!” Being delicate is not one of my better qualities, so I was proud of myself for not blurting out the first thing that popped into my head. At least I was improving.
“No!” he huffed, “I won’t do it.”
This was the third time I had mentioned it, and the third time he had refused. I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Mike, be sensible, my wolf. You at least need to try and find a way to get some work.”
He frowned. “I have! No one wants me.”
I took my shoe from his hand and threw it aside, so I could sit on his lap. “That can’t be true. I know of one person that wants you.” I smiled at him because I knew how much he liked it.
He took a deep breath, saying, “You’re not gonna get off the subject that easily.”
“What subject?” I asked innocently. “The only subject I want to get on is this right here.” I kissed his cheek.
He gasped. “Why, Mrs. Satané. I’m shocked.”
“Don’t call me that,” I hissed, getting off his lap. I didn’t like it when he called me by my married name, even if he was trying to be funny.
He hugged me from behind. “Don’t be that way, bébé,” he whispered in my ear. “You know I was only funnin’ ya.”
I sighed, turning in his arms. “Well don’t. I don’t like it.”
“I won’t do it again,” he whispered.
“Promise me,” I asked, with a raised eyebrow.
He sighed. “Yes, I promise.”
“Okay then,” I paused, thinking for a moment. “Promise me something else?” I pulled him closer, so our lips almost touched.
He smiled. “Sure,” he said, turned on. “I’d do anythin’ for you.”
“Anythin’ but that,” he huffed, then pulled away from me and walked into the bedroom.
“And why not?” I followed him. “Wolf, you’re dying without work. I see how you act around people when they talk about their jobs. It’s eating you up inside. It kills you when I’m the one who has to pay the rent, the bills, or even for our dinner. I don’t mind but come on! You love being a lawyer, and just because some ass wipe fired you doesn’t mean you should roll over and show your belly.” This, of course, was the same ass wipe who would not give me a divorce even though I didn’t want a dime from him. Every time I sent the annulment papers something always mysteriously happened to them.
“I hear what you’re sayin’,” he said, sitting in his chair next to the bed. “I can’t do it.”
“Why not?” I asked again. Whenever I asked, he never gave me a straight answer.
He closed his eyes and lowered his head. “Because of what they’ll do.” That was a little better than the last answer he gave me. “I just can’t do it.”
I shrugged. “And what will they do? Make you leave me?” He shook his head. “Make you rejoin the pack?” I asked, and he shrugged. “Make you kill for them again?” When he nodded, I took a deep breath. “If you want a job, that’s a risk you’re going to have to take.” I know it sounded cruel, but I could tell that I was the only thing Mike was afraid of losing if he killed again. I thought maybe if I just told him that it was okay, even though it really wasn’t, he would do what needed to be done to get out of his rut.
He looked at me, stunned. “Patricia Anne Wyatt, I’m surprised by your candor.”
My eyes widened. “My candor! Well I’m surprised that you won’t even consider trying to help yourself.”
His face softened into his sparkly green-eyed grin. “I could think of a million other ways to help myself right now.” He looked me up and down, biting his lip.
“I mean it,” I huffed, folding my arms.
The smile vanished, and he looked down at his hands, which were resting in his lap. “All right,” he conceded, “I’ll go and talk to them tomorrow.”
“Are you serious about that?”
I could see his jaw clench. “I’m not Sam.”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it.” Whenever we have a conversation, it ended with him telling me that he wasn’t Samuel. “Don’t you think I know you’re not him by now? You are in two completely different leagues. You’re a gentleman, and he’s a jerk and a moron.” His face relaxed, and I shrugged. “Besides, you have me and he doesn’t.” I walked over to him slowly, placing my hand on his shoulder. He looked up at me as I bent down to give him a kiss.
“I love you, Pat,” he whispered, while my long curly brown hair fell around both of our faces. “And your hazel eyes.” He said that as a way of telling me something vulgar without actually saying the words.
I rolled my eyes. “Ha, ha.” That’s when he pulled me onto his lap and started tickling me. “Stop,” I squeaked through laughter. “Stop it, you wolf.”
“Oh, you’re gonna get it now.” He picked me up and threw me onto the bed, growling before he jumped on top of me.
I laughed even harder. “Stop! Bad dog!” I flicked his nose, which made him tickle me again.
After some more laughter, he started to kiss me gently. At first, it was a couple of quick pecks on the cheeks and lips, but before long, the kisses became passionate and full of longing. I wrapped my legs around his waist and the phone rang.
He growled, pulling away from me.
“Let the machine get it,” I whispered against his neck, and he nodded, going back to kissing me. Then as he was just about to move his hand under my shirt, I heard, “Hello, is anyone there?” It was my best friend Tina (Chrissie to everyone else) Iglesias.
“Patty,”—she is the only one who can call me that without being smacked—“I really need you.” She sounded like it was something important, so I pushed Mike off me, and he fell to the floor with a loud thud.
I ran into the living room, before the machine could cut her off, and answered the phone. “Sweetie,” I breathed, “I’m here. What’s wrong?”
“Are you sitting down?” She sounded extremely upset, so I sat down on the arm of the couch.
“Yes,” I said, waiting while she took a breath.
“I just saw Samuel,” she said, and my mouth dropped. “But that’s not the worse part. Guess who I saw him with?” I hoped it was Kathryn. Incidentally, she was that certain queen of all vampires that I mentioned earlier, and the one who had saved me from a very unfortunate situation with Samuel. And I’m talking crazy nonconsensual sex, making me into his undead bride-in-a-dungeon kind of situation.
“Who?” I asked, crossing my fingers.
“Promise you won’t get upset.” Tina’s Brooklyn accent was hardly noticeable when she was serious.
I smiled into the phone. “Why would I be upset?” Tina could be so ridiculous sometimes.
“Because it was your sister.”
She was right; I was upset. I was so stunned that I couldn’t speak or think for that matter.
“Patty,” Tina asked softly, “Are you there?”
“Yes,” I answered my voice not above a whisper. “I’m here, barely.”
“Are you okay?” She sounded concerned.
I shook my head, even though she couldn’t see it. “No.” Kathryn distinctly said that my family would be safe from that monster, and now Tina was telling me that my sister was my husband’s lover. I was so angry that I could have strangled somebody. “Did you talk to them?” I asked after a moment’s silence.
She sighed, “Your sister? Oh, yeah. Him? Hell to the fucking no.”
Now I was clenching my jaw, just waiting for the opportunity to punch something. “What did she say?” I managed to ask through my teeth.
“She said that he’d asked her to marry him, and then told me that she’d said yes.”
That’s when I realized it was the middle of a bright sunny day, and there was no way she could have seen them together. “When did you see them?” I asked my anger subsiding.
“Last night.” She told me, bursting my bubble. “At this new restaurant Herbert took me to.”
Herbert Morris was Tina’s new fifty-four year-old millionaire beau. He was good for her, and she was good for him. But I couldn’t think about that right now. All I could think about was my heart in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you earlier, but Herb and I—”
“It’s all right, Tina.” I paused, feeling my lower lip begin to quiver. “It’s fine.”
“It sure as hell is not fine!” She was angry and getting louder by the second. “You know what else she told me?”
“No,” I said, not having a clue what my sister may or may not have told my best friend. She and I were never what you might call “friendly” to one another. But that didn’t make her any less my sister.
“That you two are still married,” she huffed, “and that you’re the one who won’t sign the papers.”
My hand tightened around the phone, I could think of only one word to describe Jessica Wyatt, but it was rarely used outside a kennel, as Joan Crawford would have put it. “She’s mistaken; we are not married anymore.”
“That’s what I said,” Tina started to whisper, so I figured she was at work. “Then she said that I was the one who was wrong, and that the only reason she told me any of this was so I could get you to sign the papers!”
“We aren’t married anymore.” I figured if I said it again, it might actually make it true.
“I believe you.” Her voice got louder. “It’s that bitch sister of yours that I don’t believe. Your marriage bed is barely cold, and she takes it upon herself to heat it up again.
”
“I don’t care about that. What I care about is that he’s going to do the same thing to her that he did to me.”
I didn’t want to tell her that this whole thing was a ploy to get me back. He wouldn’t love Jessica Lynn Wyatt if she was the last woman on earth. Even if she was his blonde-haired, blue-eyed type. He wanted me to know that even though he was punished for the things he did to me; he could still make me suffer for not letting him turn me into a vampire.
Tina gasped. “Good Lord!” I know she crossed herself. “I hope not.”
“Is that all, Tina?” I wanted to get off the phone before I threw it across the room.
“Yeah,” she whispered. “That’s all.”
“All right,” my voice cracked. “I’ll talk to you later.”
“Okay,” she said sounding concerned. “Bye, babe.”
I was so numb that I just hung up. In an instant, I could feel the tears begin to fill my eyes and tried to keep them in, but it was too late; they had spilled over. “Mike,” I let out a deep breath. “Mike!”
He came rushing into the living room, and as I slid down onto the couch cushion, he sat beside me, placing his hand on my lap. “Bébé, what’s wrong?”
I turned, crying onto his bare shoulder. “He’s got her, Mike,” I said, my voice muffled by his flesh.
He rubbed my back. “Got who, chér?”
“My sister!” I sobbed and he held me tighter. “He’s got her, and he’s g-going to kill her, Mike. I j-just know it.” Granted, I did not like my sister, but I didn’t want her dead.
He pushed me back, sweeping the hair out of my eyes so he could see my face. “He won’t touch a hair on her head, I promise you. Not if I have anythin’ to do with it.”
When he assured me, I tried to compose myself by taking some deep breaths, but all that did was make me angry.
I started hitting him, just pounding on his chest relentlessly. But he didn’t stop me; he just let me beat the crap out of him until I didn’t have any strength left. Then he lifted me off the couch and walked me into the bedroom.