Dark: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Blood Moon, Texas Shifters Book 1)

by Kat Kinney

  And shit. Now I was sporting a semi.

  Letting my head thump back against the wall, I rubbed my face. Hayden Crowe could never really be mine. And the sooner I accepted that, the better.

  Neither of us got much sleep. When my phone blasted out Sex Pistols at 4 a.m., it felt like getting shot in the head. I stumbled to the galley kitchen to start coffee, then rapped lightly on the doorway leading to the bedroom.

  A few seconds later, Hayden emerged looking tousled and damn adorable in panties and one of my old concert tees featuring a trio of laughing skeletons chasing a walrus. Brody practically crashed his cruiser every time I wore it down to the station. Which was why I kept doing it. She took one look at me in my sleep pants and nothing else and blushed down to the roots of her hair.

  “You mind if I grab the first shower? Need to get downstairs.”

  “Less. Talking.” She rubbed her temples, clearly feeling the effects of having shifted so many times during the night.

  I smirked. “Or you can sign for deliveries. Turn on all the machines. Clean that nasty spot at the back of the ice maker—”

  “Death wish?”

  Tapping the end of her nose, I brushed past her into my bedroom. “Protein’ll help. I’ll grab us tacos at Guillermo’s.”

  Her phone buzzed. She frowned down at the screen.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” She shut it off, face betraying the lie.

  “Brody texted last night after you were out. August will monitor Ellie this morning on campus. See if she’s being followed.”

  Hayden’s expression softened. “Thank you.”

  The thing to understand about Hays? She acted tough as nails, like nothing and no one could touch her, but Ellie was her kryptonite. And I wasn’t about to let anything happen to the one person she had left.

  I took the fastest shower of my life. Throwing on a dark gray Henley, jeans and my Vans, I came out to the bedroom, only to discover Hayden was nowhere to be found.

  “Hays?” I called, double-timing it down the stairs. “Hayden—"

  And that’s when I heard their voices.

  Karma always had a way of piling it on when you were in the middle of a spectacular foul-up. Like when the high school called your parents to tell them you’d been cutting class, getting into fights and not participating (as if they needed another reminder you were the puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit in their picture-perfect little family) and you had to trudge back down from the principal’s office after hearing Ben say in his sheriff’s voice you would discuss this at home, only to find a science quiz you hadn’t studied for waiting on your desk.

  Life could be a bitch.

  I rounded the bottom of the stairs in time to see Lacey Blair framed in the doorway. Dressed in yoga pants and a sherbet-green hoodie, she had the heavy crate of fresh sandwiches and pastries we had delivered every morning from her aunt’s bakery propped on one hip.

  I was nearly across the shop floor when Hayden crossed her arms and shrugged.

  “—called first shower.”

  As if she hadn’t heard me coming.

  “Hey. Thanks for dropping these off,” I said, stepping in front of the little shit-stirrer.

  Lacey shot me a dark look, trying to peer around me at Hayden, eyes flicking accusatorily from my borrowed shirt to the bite mark at the base of her throat.

  The topic of Hayden? Strictly embargoed. Which didn’t mean Lacey hadn’t tried to get the dirt. Pretty much everyone in my family had at one time or another. And I didn’t trust any of them but Cal, who was a freaking shrink and knew how to keep that shit locked down.

  “Can. We. Talk.” Not waiting for a response, Lacey shoved the crate of pastries in my face, sending blueberry muffins and individually wrapped slices of vegan carrot cake flying.

  The door slammed. Hayden whirled on me, eyes icy slits of fury. Because of course, by whatever freaky girl-logic, she could both keep insisting I was nothing to her while simultaneously being pissed I hadn’t spent the last ten years locked up in a monastery, having my dick spiritually cleansed.

  I dropped the crate on the counter. “I can explain.”

  Hayden let out a huff. “Explain why you told me you’re single and now she’s here with a bag of peanut butter crunch cookies we both know are your favorite?”

  I opened my mouth. Maybe to deny it? Except we both knew on some level, she was right. I had no idea why Lacey would even pull this sort of crap. We agreed from the start our hookups would be no-strings-attached. As in, a once-a-month arrangement to keep our wolves in check. I didn’t get a chance to say any of this, though, before a still-warm paper Blair’s bag was being smashed into my chest, incriminating peanut buttery fumes wafting up as it hit the floor.

  “Hayden,” I started.

  The door slammed.

  Burn.

  Cursing, I tossed the ruined cookies in the trash and headed out into the chilly pre-dawn morning. Time for damage control.

  Arms folded, Lacey was practically burning a hole in the wet sidewalk out by her family’s delivery truck in her baby-blue Nikes. Shivering, I stuffed my hands in my pockets. A ribbon of pink edged the eastern horizon. It was early for the first cold snap of the year, but the change in the air felt good. Or it would have if I were dressed for it, but no way was I going back inside for a coat now.

  “Are you with her?”

  Startled, I glanced up. “What?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Come off it, Caldwell, and answer the question.”

  “None of your business.”

  “Wow.”

  Running a hand over her close-cropped hair, she stared out at the street. Lacey Blair had been hanging out with my brothers for years, kicking West’s butt at foosball and cheekily informing Dallas no man was going to tell her how to shoot pool. The two of us never hung out much in high school even though she was just a year above me. She ran track, and pretty much the only running I did was out to the parking lot to my truck after the 8th period bell.

  Lacey was pretty in that classical sort of way. Heart-shaped face. Flawless olive skin. Dancer’s physique. The fact that there had never been anything there on my end had nothing to do with looks.

  “Look, we said up front this was just—”

  Lacey laughed harshly. “Yeah. You don’t do relationships. No ties. No attachments. And then goth girl shows up out of the blue and all the rules change.”

  She waited. But there wasn’t a question in that little monologue. And even if there had been, it wasn’t like I had an answer that was going to make her feel any better.

  “I’m sorry.”

  Seeming taken aback by this, Lacey paced a few more steps. “You marked her.”

  I said nothing.

  Her jaw hardened. “Did she mark you?”

  Hayden’s claim burned beneath the edge of my sleeve, her quiet rage simmering through our tenuous connection. I closed my eyes, trying to send back a silent apology wrapped in waves of reassurance, unsure two people who’d bitten each other by mistake could even communicate that way.

  “That really what this is about?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She released a harsh laugh. “Now you’re calling me a liar? Unbelievable.”

  I let that one go. “Whether or not I gave a crap about anything never mattered to you before.”

  Lacey looked away, lips set in a thin, colorless line. “Maybe I don’t like getting blown off in a text by a guy I’ve been seeing for over a year. That’s low, even for you, Ethan.”

  Even for me.

  Yeah. Because everything was all my fucking fault. It was why it wouldn’t ever matter how hard I tried to change, or what sacrifices I made for my family. I wouldn’t ever be good enough for any of them.

  And especially not for Hayden Crowe.

  “This wasn’t planned. She showed up last night after close, desperate and begging for help. Someone attacked her, changed her by force.”

>   Lacey flinched. But just as quickly, her lip curled. “And your first instinct was to mark her and take her to bed? I should kick your ass on behalf of women everywhere.”

  I ground my teeth. “You’ve got it all wrong. And I’m not getting into this with you.”

  When I turned to go inside, her eyes flared topaz. “We’re not done here.”

  I let my head thump against the door, wondering where this was coming from. Lacey and I had never gone out, not to a bar, not to a restaurant, not even to freaking McDonald’s. We didn’t spend the night once business was taken care of, and we sure as hell didn’t leave stuff at each other’s places. Implying that this train wreck was some sort of relationship in the making was as screwed up as that sack of cookies.

  Maybe I should have seen this coming, should have known a random hookup one night would complicate things, but there was honestly never any intent on my part for either of us to get hurt.

  “I’m sorry if you thought we might turn into something more, but that’s not, I don’t—"

  I trailed off.

  Lacey’s eyes narrowed into slits. “Save it. Because let me tell you, it feels pretty crappy to be told you’re hookup material for a year, only to find out you’ve been a placeholder all along for someone else.”

  “That’s not how it was. You’re acting like I planned this.”

  She set her jaw. “Everyone told me to stay away. I should have listened when your own brothers said I’d just wind up getting hurt. You’re not capable of anything real.”

  It was the truth, and we both knew it. But knowing the warning had come from one of my brothers still felt like getting knifed in the back.

  I kept my voice flat.

  “So why’d you follow me home that night? Or was I just a revenge lay to get back at Dallas?”

  She reared back. There was a second where I was sure she was going to slap me. I didn’t move, pretty sure this time I deserved it.

  “Screw you, Ethan.”

  Yeah, that seemed to be our theme song today, and I hadn’t even had caffeine. Slamming the door to her van, she gunned it and peeled off down Main. Pushing up my glasses, I sagged against the door.

  Back inside, all the lights were off. The floor was littered with blueberry muffins like we were in the middle of goddamn Candyland. I kicked them out of the way, not even bothering with the trash.

  “Hays?” I called, vaulting up the stairs.

  But I knew what I was going to find even before I threw open the door. The living area was empty, the bed neatly made. Three cobalt-blue plates had been washed and set in the strainer to dry. The clothes she wore last night were gone. I yanked at the ends of my hair, sagging into the wall.

  “Crap.”

  * * *

  Dark was slammed from the moment I unlocked the doors. Because I had a death wish, I picked the last week in September to run a special on pumpkin spice lattes. I was so pissed at Hayden for taking off without even giving me the chance to explain, every drink I shoved across the counter looked like a high school kid poured it. Scratch that. I could pour better at fourteen. Probably with two broken arms.

  By mid-morning, I was going out of my mind. Yanking out my phone, I pulled up our last chat thread from three years ago, the one I’d reread at least a hundred times and had never been able to bring myself to delete.

  WillKillforThinMints: Just saying. You strike me as a cat person.

  WillKillforThinMints: Black, obviously. To match the emo.

  Me: You do know surprise cats can be regifted. And if we fail a health inspection because of Sumatra…

  WillKillforThinMints: How cute is it that you’ve already named our love-cat??? Heart emoji.

  Me: NO LAUGHING. Hard limit. (And no cat.)

  WillKillforThinMints: Eye-roll emoji. Daisy emoji.

  WillKillforThinMints: You still need me at 4 tonight?

  Me: Sure you want to come in on your bday?

  WillKillforThinMints: Like I’d let you and Sumatra scare off the trick-or-treaters

  …and nothing more. I’d gotten distracted with the after-lunch rush and had forgotten to check back in until she showed up. My thumbs twitched as the message box popped up.

  Me: Where are you?

  Three little blinking dots appeared. I was still staring at the screen when an order came across the counter. Iced Coffee. Non-fat milk. Extra syrup. Leave three inches for whip. Extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce.

  It was the non-fat milk part that I never got. Either go all in or go home.

  Then there was the guy who stopped in two or three times a week on his way into Austin to order a quadruple shot Venti, black, at exactly 134 degrees. Which, whatever. I was the last person with the right to lecture anyone on their quirks. My problem was dude thought the fact that he drove a Porsche gave him free rein to cut to the front of the line, snap at my staff, and half the time shoved the drink I’d just made back across the counter and told me to redo it just to be a dick.

  Ben wouldn’t have survived half a shift in customer service. Growing up, we would go through the drive-thru down at the Dairy Queen, and he would lean out to the old dented speaker and order a sack of fries and a sack of burgers, all the way, which he promptly tossed back to Brody or Cal. Anything you didn’t want, you were in charge of picking out of your lettuce or wiping off your bun. I guess with seven kids, his way made more sense than wasting gas while August decided if he was eating pickles that week and West got all squirmy about the mayonnaise.

  My phone buzzed with a message from West.

  HashtagWhore: Switzerland. Don’t even try to drag me into this. I told BOTH of you FWB would end in disaster. ON YOUR OWN.

  Which meant Lacey was already spreading shit all over town. Great. I banged my head against my fist just as another message came in.

  HashtagWhore: And Hayden Crowe? Really? Why am I always the last to know?

  Me: Yeah. I blogged the whole thing on fucking Instagram. You didn’t see the #aesthetic? #ourfuturewedding

  Me: And ffs, give me a chance to explain.

  HashtagWhore: Alps, Bro.

  Whatever. He and Lacey were tight and no way was I getting in the middle of that. Although would it kill one of my brothers, just for once, to take my side?

  No reply from Hayden. I was starting to fume, but two more orders came in and the kid working the counter was starting to panic. Time to pull my head out of my ass and act like the manager.

  Ten minutes later (and oh yeah, I knew it was on purpose), my phone buzzed. It was from Hays. Rather than answer, she sent me a middle-finger emoji.

  Me: Cute. You know what else would be cute? You at the end of a leash.

  Me: I think PetCity even has one with daisies.

  WillKillforThinMints: Devil-horns emoji. Meat-on bone emoji. Knife-emoji.

  She and Ellie had entire conversations in emojis. I was pretty sure Brody hadn't even heard of them. August sent a bunch of GIFs to Ben once as a joke, and Ben threatened to throw his phone in the lake.

  Me: You’re pissed, but willing to talk over lunch. Out of silverware so I should bring. What time?

  Me: I’m sorry

  WillKillforThinMints: Skyping with my band. Got to go.

  By the time someone finally made it in to finish out the lunch rush, it was after one. I punched out and grabbed my keys.

  The trailer park east of town was just as dilapidated as ever. Think chipped paint and AC units that sagged from broken windows. Rusted-out cars up on cinder blocks. Half-starved attack dogs strung out on chains. Brody had done a lot this past year to try to clean up the place, enforce curfew and chase away the dealers and low-lifes. Word around town was Hayden’s aunt still paid rent on their trailer just in case her brother ever decided to get clean and come home, and to keep Ellie from making the long drive back to Austin at night when she worked at the local vet clinic on the weekends. There was still no way in hell I wanted Hayden staying here.

  I banged on her door two times with no answer
. Like the whole neighborhood hadn’t heard her guitar wailing from the highway. The third time I raised my fist, the door flew open. Hayden slouched in the doorway, looking pissed enough to deck me.

  She had on black chucks, an olive-green cropped canvas jacket and skinny jeans that hugged every inch of her legs and hips. I pictured how she looked on her back the night before, those slim legs bare and spread for me, and my cock rammed up into my fly. She was still wearing my shirt, which my wolf liked. A lot. Almost as much as the messy knot of hair on top of her head.

  Don’t get me wrong. Nothing turned me on like the sight of those dark strands tumbling loose and luscious around her face. But damn if seeing my mark openly displayed on her skin didn’t send fire roaring through my blood. I’d never done long-term. There was no point when we all knew I’d just wind up razing things to the ground. But suddenly it seemed like no accident I’d jammed my cuffs up to my forearms the moment I got into my truck.

  Hayden gave me a look that would have flash-frozen a horde of zombies in July. “You shouldn’t be here.”

  “And you shouldn’t have taken off. Not when we don’t have a feel yet for what’s going on.” I folded my arms. “Out of curiosity, what were you planning to do at sunset, go furry and do donuts in your trailer?”

  “Cute. You try that line out on Lacey Blair before you headed over here?”

  She started to slam the screen door in my face. I blocked it with the flat of my hand.

  “This isn’t a game, Hays.”

  I’d seen friendlier looks offered to roadkill.

  “I had some stuff I needed to run through with my band over Skype. We’ve got a huge gig the weekend after next. What are the chances I’ll be able to go out at night without eating anyone?”

  “Varies. For most shifters, moonlust lasts roughly three days, a week at the outside. For new Bittens, you’re probably looking at a week, maybe ten days each month where you won’t be safe. For Ferals, the period of lucidity shrinks each cycle until eventually they never come back to their human selves even during daylight hours.”