Tangled Moon

by Stocum, Olivia

  This wasn’t nearly as weird as she’d thought it would be, she decided after a few minutes. The initial awkwardness having passed, she felt kind of safe.

  She fell asleep.

  An hour must have gone by, judging by the lengthening shadows in the room. Danielle’s sweater was damp. She was drenched in Nick’s sweat. While it was an attractive smell to her, she had the feeling Lothar would not agree.

  Tentatively, she pushed against Nick’s chest. She could smell the broth on the stove, heard someone in the next room, and smelled Lothar.

  Pushing harder, she managed to squeeze out from under Nick. She straightened the blanket then prepared herself and padded out to face her alpha, hoping he would check himself long enough to be her friend. She didn’t need a teacher right now. She needed a companion. One who understood her.

  He was bent over the wood stove, putting a log on the fire. The sleeves on his black button up shirt were folded back. It seemed too hot in the tiny cabin now.

  “Lothar,” she said, her throat tight. She cleared it.

  “You must give mortal more herbs,” he said, straightening. “I assume broth is for him.” He took the pot off the stove to cool.

  “Well, it’s not for me,” she snapped, wincing as soon as she’d said it. Good grief, that was a great way to start.

  It didn’t faze him. “I have leeches.”

  “I hate them.”

  “Necessary evil.”

  Danielle rubbed her clammy hands on her jeans. “He had the chills.”

  “Is normal.” Lothar hadn’t looked at her yet. He took a bowl out of the cupboard, handing it over. “When cools, mix herbs with it.”

  “All right.” She held the ceramic bowl with numb fingers.

  “You stink,” he said.

  “I thought you would say that.”

  He took up the glass jar swimming with brown, slimy nubs. Danielle swallowed back her revulsion. Leeches were bloodsuckers. Just like vampires.

  “Do not watch, if too much,” he said, brushing past her and into the bedroom.

  Danielle tried to distract herself from the leeches by focusing on scooping out broth. She set the bowl aside on the counter then went into the bedroom. She took up the herbal tinctures and returned quickly to the kitchen with them.

  “Coward,” Lothar said, a challenge in his voice.

  Danielle set the vials next to the bowl. With a sigh, she turned and went back in. “What can I do to help?”

  “Hold jar.” He shoved it at her and she took it with a grimace. Fortunately, it was only half full and didn’t slosh all over her. “Male is yours, but as you have weak stomach, I handle leeches.”

  “I don’t have a weak stomach. I just don’t like leeches. And he’s not mine.”

  Lothar pinched the tail end of one between thumb and index finger, holding it out like a boy with a worm.

  Danielle jumped back. “Just tell me what you want me to do. And stop that.”

  “Turn arm up,” he said. “I have feeling this male has thick hide.”

  Pursing her lips, Danielle set the jar aside and did as he asked. Lothar lowered it over the inside of Nick’s arm.

  “You stink,” he said. “I do not like.”

  “Get over it.”

  He applied more leeches, placing extras around the bite wound. Danielle counted twenty of the nauseating bloodsuckers.

  “Feel free to warm male, should chills return,” Lothar said, his expression deadpan.

  “No, thank you.” Danielle walked out of the room, Lothar following. She set the jar in the sink then turned to the tinctures.

  “I have been defensive,” he said. “I do not mean it.”

  Another apology.

  It was one of those things she could count on with him. A leader with a conscience. Unlike his uncle. One day, Lothar would take his rightful place on the High Seat, and they would all be better off for it.

  “You saw something coming,” she said. “I just wish you’d told me.”

  “I did not know what to say.”

  “Why did I bite him?” Her skin warmed. “Never mind.” She picked up a vial.

  “You know then.”

  She counted off drops first. “I’m not the type to use mortals for vain pleasures.”

  “What if male is not human?”

  Her hand stopped in mid-motion reaching for the second vial. “He is not . . .” She jerked and knocked it over. Luckily, she hadn’t taken the top off yet.

  “Judging by your reaction, he is Carrier.”

  She turned to look at him. Lothar sat down at the pine table left by the former occupants, resting his elbows serenely on top as if contemplating what to make for dinner. His dark hair was impeccably groomed despite his recent shift from human to wolf and back again.

  “I came across his kind in Lithuania and I never bit any of them,” she said.

  “Because they were not compatible with you.”

  Werewolf, but not werewolf, Carriers were the only males of her species capable of reproduction. Shapeshifting males, like Lothar, were completely sterile. Some females never came across a compatible male, and her kind hovered on the verge of extinction because of it.

  If she had found one . . .

  “Oh, no.” She shook her head. “Forget about it.”

  “Good.” Lothar looked out the window, his face hardening. “Because I will not let him take you from me without fight.”

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled.

  “You wouldn’t do that,” she said. It wasn’t even like that between them. Then again, sex or no sex, he was pretty protective of her.

  “Wouldn’t be a fair fight,” she said weakly. “Nick doesn’t have fangs.”

  “I do not mean literal fight.” His gaze found hers, eyes darkening to black. There was no growl as he spoke, but his accent was nearly impossible to understand. She had to admit, her knees went a little wobbly over it. “Male must prove worth to have you,” he finished.

  She swallowed, feeling heavy, like his stare was made of lead. “I don’t want a mate,” she said, mostly to convince herself. Her heart gave a squeeze. Yes, she’d fantasized about spending the rest of her life with Lothar, having the best arguments, followed by even better lovemaking. How could she not? He was a sexy euro-yuppie with a superiority complex easily backed up by both mind and body. And he’d always been there for her when she’d needed him.

  She turned back to the counter, focusing on counting drops of herbal tincture. It was hard. She could only hope she’d put the right amount in. Taking up the bowl and a soup spoon she went back to Nick. Danielle tried hard to dismiss the leeches all over him, but she couldn’t. She set the bowl down and took up the blanket.

  “No offense,” she said. “But your little friends are making me nauseous.” Danielle tossed it over him.

  This whole situation with Nick was bad. She must have bitten him to see if he was strong enough to endure it, and to mark him as her own.

  No. He wasn’t hers. She didn’t want a mate, or children. She wanted to be a Huntress.

  Danielle pulled up a chair and sat next to him. He smelled good simply because it was nature’s way of attracting them to each other.

  If she had never gone into town with Lothar in the first place, she wouldn’t have met Nick. Everything in his simple mortal life could have gone on normally.

  She scooped out a spoonful of broth and brought it to his mouth. “Please drink. You really need to.”

  He was semi-conscious, and it was laborious, but she got him to take broth laced with herbs at regular intervals throughout the night. Lothar came in and removed the leeches. Danielle eyed the fat, gorged nubs as they went back into the jar.

  “Get rid of those,” she told him.

  He smiled like only Lothar can. Sarcastic and sexy. “As you wish, Darling.”

  “Snob,” she muttered after him.

  Lothar left her alone after that. Nick talked in his sleep throughout the night, something abou
t bears and Jason, and a woman named Genevieve he hoped he would never see again. His fever broke just before dawn. It seemed he was through the worst of it. Danielle stretched stiff muscles, relieved he was out of danger.

  She hadn’t killed him. She wasn’t a killer.

  “He made room stink like gym locker,” Lothar said, standing in the doorway with a cup of coffee, looking no worse for wear save the annoyed pinch between his brows. “He makes you stink. I do not like.”

  “Yes, you said that before. You do not like.” Danielle sighed. “It’s not that bad. Once he’s better we can trade rooms, and I’ll take this one.”

  “We should get him back to town now.”

  “His fever just broke.”

  “And when family looks for him?”

  Lothar had a point. “Either way, I’ll have to come up with an excuse for this. Do you think he’ll remember what happened?”

  “Wait and see.” He leaned against the doorframe. “I called Greg under pretense of seeing male and found he has apartment over sister-in-law’s diner.”

  “His name is Nick.”

  Lothar showed his teeth, fangs already elongated and wet with venom.

  “All right, call him male, then.”

  “If we go now we can leave him in bed.” He paused, frowning. “Where did I leave lock picks?”

  She rolled her eyes. “They’re in the van. What happens when he wakes up in his own bed with no idea how he got there?”

  Lothar smiled. “Convince him he had reaction to animal bite and rest was bad dream.”

  “But the bite looks human.”

  “Be creative.”

  Danielle wanted to bite Lothar, but for an entirely different reason. “You’re still not being very helpful.”

  “You carry him yourself?”

  She growled, and Lothar growled back.

  “Fine,” she said. “If he has a relapse, it’s all your fault.”

  “I am not one who bit him,” he said, looking at his coffee cup instead of her. His arrogance was showing itself. Here she was, trying to figure out what to do with this compatible man she hadn’t even been looking for, his mere presence threatening to destroy her neat little world—

  Danielle hid her face from Lothar. Damnit, but she knew the truth behind her angst. She still wanted her hunting partner. The fact that he didn’t actually want her back in that way, and that it was illegal for them to be anything but casual lovers anyhow, didn’t change her heart. Nope. Not one bit.

  “He’s not supposed to exist,” she thought out loud.

  “What, did you expect to be Huntress forever?”

  Something inside her snapped. She felt all the stress from last night, the sleep she needed this morning. The sheer terror of losing this prick so casually walking all over her feelings.

  Danielle turned on him. “You’d like that, my leaving you to become a Matriarch!” she yelled. “Then you can get yourself a new partner. Maybe one that will satisfy you.”

  His eyes darkened immediately to black, his face shifting into the subhuman, high-boned shape of an angry werewolf. The coffee mug hit the floor and shattered.

  Danielle froze in place. Oh, yeah, she’d gotten to him this time. She refused to flinch, even though her wolf instincts told her to stand down.

  “I rip male’s throat out,” he growled. It echoed in the cabin.

  She felt the shift in her brain. It was her Arrested Development kicking in. The human female was taking completely over. She backed off from Lothar, not in submission, but in empathy, worried about him.

  “Why?” she asked, her eyes tearing.

  He slowly returned to normal. They both stood there in silence, save the sound of their breathing.

  “Why?” she repeated. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing is wrong.”

  “Don’t lie to me.” She was practically whispering. “We’ve been through too much for that.”

  “I tell you.” He frowned, then switched to Lithuanian. “He is young and foolish. He is not worthy of you.”

  “I never said I wanted him,” she said in English. “I want to stay with you. I mean . . . to be a Huntress. We won’t tell anyone he exists, that way the Council will never know I turned him down.”

  His chin lifted. She knew what she was asking of him. If the other werewolves found out about Nick, it would mean another trial for Lothar. He was her alpha, so he would take the blame for her not telling them she’d found a Carrier. Males, particularly shapeshifting males, always took the blame among her kind. Because females bore young, they were protected.

  “No. I can’t hurt you like that,” she said finally. “Do what you need to. Don’t worry about me.” Her throat closed up. No, she wouldn’t be fine. The very thought of being anything but Lothar Ludvitski’s hunting partner terrified her. She felt seventeen all over again. All alone in a world that was no longer hers.

  Having to submit to his uncle was just a passing phase in his life. Once he had matured enough, he would take his uncle’s place. He couldn’t risk his future on an orphaned she-cub he’d picked up fifteen years ago.

  “I protect you, brangioji,” he said. It meant, darling.

  She shook her head. “You promised your uncle you wouldn’t put me first. I can’t do that to you.”

  “My uncle is a . . .” He followed it with a word in Lithuanian she could only translate as, “manwhore.”

  Well, yes, he was.

  “So where does that leave us?” she asked.

  “It leaves us. I have always protected you. I will not stop now.”

  She wiped her face. “Stupid tears,” she sniffed. “You can’t do that. I won’t ruin your life. I’ve caused enough damage as it is. You were the best Mentor we had, and I messed everything . . .”

  Lothar reached out, catching her off guard. She jerked back before realizing his intentions. His palm formed neatly around the back of her head. He drew her close, tipping her face into his, his lean body pressed against her.

  Oh. My. This had not happened in years. Four years, three months, and twelve days to be precise. Not that she was keeping track. That was the last time he’d kissed her. Assuming he was going to kiss her. Her stomach tightened in anticipation. Lothar hovered there, his scent obliterating Nick’s.

  He seemed to change his mind and kissed her forehead instead, his mouth warm on her suddenly oversensitive skin. He bent her neck back, exposing her throat to him. Danielle growled deep in her chest as he smelled her scent straight off her skin. He let her go and backed away—leaving her gasping for air.

  She swore she could still feel him touching her. She brushed her hand across her neck, swallowing hard.

  He turned his back to her as if gathering himself. “You might want to bring clothes and gun. If male investigates and finds pants here, will not look good.”

  Lothar glanced at her from over his shoulder, lingering longer than necessary. She couldn’t respond, was still shocked.

  “Then again, he might wonder what he missed during memory lapse.”

  She snapped to her senses. Picking up Nick’s boot, she threw it at his head. He caught it easily, even though he wasn’t looking, tossed it back at her.

  “Quickly, brangioji.”

  “Annoying werewolf,” she grumbled, grabbing Nick’s things.

  Lothar lifted him up, teetering a bit under Nick’s heavy frame.

  “Not so smug now, are you?” Danielle said as she opened the front door for him.

  He growled on his way out.

  Chapter Four

  Nick drifted to awareness late morning, opening his eyes to stare vaguely at a familiar ceiling. He pulled himself out of bed, swayed like he’d been drinking, and then sat back down on the edge of the mattress.

  He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten to his apartment. Last he knew he’d been in the forest bantering with the sexy Danielle.

  Nick rubbed his throbbing temples. What had happened to him last night?

  He stood careful
ly, this time making it all the way to his destination. The bathroom. He flicked on the light then looked at his reflection in the mirror over the sink. And stared. He turned his arms. He was covered with nasty bug bites. Nick ran his hand over a set of crescent marks on his shoulder. Top row, bottom row. They burned when he touched them.

  Danielle.

  Nick gripped the edge of the sink. He’d held her in his arms yesterday, drawn by her strangeness and her scent, had bent to her . . .

  The rest was a blur.

  Nick pulled on a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, and his battered cowboy boots. He ran his hands through his hair. A shower would be a good idea, but he needed answers first.

  He started down the narrow stairs to the kitchen in Kendra’s diner, making it halfway before being forced to slow down. He stopped altogether and leaned against the wall, taking deep breaths until the spinning in his head stopped. The smell of pancakes, bacon, and eggs were doing nothing for his stomach.

  He never got sick. This just wasn’t right.

  Holding his breath, he made tracks through the kitchen and into the dining room of The Robin. Kendra looked up from the counter, a white flounced apron around her trim waist and a pencil stuck through the base of her ponytail. He couldn’t believe the girl was working again already. She’d make herself crazy.

  Nick swayed and caught himself on the powder blue Formica countertop. He let out his breath and breathed through his mouth for a bit.

  “Where have you been?” Kendra asked, attempting to catch him as he slid onto a stool.

  He waved her off. If he fell, he’d flatten her. “I was hoping you knew. Did you see me come in yesterday?”

  “No. And I was here until eleven.”

  “Eleven?” He tensed for verbal battle, then let it go. He’d have to make sure her parents knew what she was doing to herself. Later. After his head stopped pounding.

  “I’ll get you some coffee.”

  “I don’t think coffee’s going to fix me.”

  “Sure it will. Black. That’s what I give the good old boys when they come in hung over.”

  Nick eyed her. “I am not hung over.”