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

by Kat Kinney

  Ending the call, Ethan got out of the truck. “Right now there’s nothing pointing towards Ellie as a target and the guy tailing you seems to have moved up into our territory. That said, with all the disappearances the past eighteen months, we have no idea how you were targeted, so it’s probably better if we keep someone watching her and see how things play out.”

  “She’s supposed to leave town with my aunts this Sunday. They’re visiting medical schools on the east coast.”

  Because despite the fact that my sister’s heart was in veterinary medicine, she couldn’t justify the guilt of taking on four years of debt she might never be able to pay off.

  “That gives us time.”

  He pulled off his shirt and Vans and tossed them into the truck bed. I opened my mouth, any reply I might have made catching in my throat. Lean and angular, his torso was all hard angles and planes, the six-pack at his stomach arrowing down to a dark scrawl of hair trailing below his navel.

  The corded muscles of his arms seemed to be carved rather than sculpted, all sharp sinew and bone. He scraped a hand across his chest, his arms bare but for his wrist cuff. I swallowed, throat suddenly dry. How many times had I watched Ethan’s hands brew coffee or swirl art into a cup? Those hands that had expertly cupped my breasts as he pushed me back onto the counter, tongue invading my mouth in a panty-scorching kiss. My gaze fell to his nipple rings, and I felt a pulse between my legs, remembering the way he’d groaned when I sucked the barbell in his tongue. What would he do if I tugged on his piercings while we were—

  “Eyes are up here, Daisy.” Ethan smirked, flipping me his knit hat.

  I caught it. “If you’re expecting tips for this little strip show then I get to pick the music.”

  He popped the button on his jeans. “Yeah. You should start getting undressed, too.”

  “Come again?”

  “This ain’t happy hour down at the Naughty Kitty and West can tell you I don’t look any good in a thong.”

  And then I got it. “You realize if I accidentally get loose, I’ll kill everything between here and Llano.”

  “You won’t.”

  “Oh, well, so long as you’re sure.” I shoved him in the chest with his hat.

  Rocking back a few inches, he rubbed his lip. “Look, I know this is new—”

  “Try, I’ve had two days with it.”

  “—but the only way you’re going to learn to control that mad little she-wolf of yours is to shift during the day, sometime when you aren’t completely wild with moonlust.”

  “And we’re stripping first because? When I came to in my car, I was still fully dressed.”

  “It’s how everyone learns. Clothes and piercings will transform when you shift, but the less you have on, the less power you have to draw and the easier it is to stay clear-headed.”

  I crossed my arms. “So why are you stripping?”

  “Yeah. Like you’d really agree to get naked if I didn’t.”

  I huffed and he smirked.

  “You got a better idea? Other than sending me over to the Dairy Queen at sunset for a dozen Bacon Cheese GrillBurgers and a sack of Dilly Bars? ‘Cause I’m kinda worried Beowulf won’t even stop chewing long enough to spit out the sticks.”

  “You are so not naming her that.”

  “No, I’m thinking maybe Thin Mint Crazy.”

  I glared, the memory of that first night I’d nearly lost control threatening to empty my stomach, the thought of it happening again—

  But Ethan was right. I had to do this. What was the alternative? Bury my head under a pillow and slowly turn feral over the course of the next few months? Ellie and I had already lost both our parents. I couldn’t put her through losing me, too.

  I shoved his shoulder. “Turn—”

  A branch snapped. We both whirled, scanning the horizon where a line of trees dipped down towards a dry creek bed. My heart raced, the wind whipping my hair into my eyes. A dark shape bolted off into the grass.

  “Stay here!” Ethan barked, taking off before I could protest.

  “What? No way!”

  But it was too late. There was a sharp crack, and Ethan was gone, an enormous black wolf blurring off into the trees.

  “Are you kidding me?”

  Stumbling after him, I tore at the sleeves of my jacket and kicked at my shoes, only to nearly face-plant in a patch of prickly pears. Freaking great. Snarling, I yanked at the knots in my laces, hopping away from what would have been a spiny and completely suck-tastic end to the afternoon. My chucks landed, first one, then the other off in the grass. Every damn sticker burr in three counties picked that moment to latch onto the wacky sushi socks Ellie got me for my birthday.

  Total. Werewolf. Fail.

  Which, whatever. You try stripping out of skinny jeans and your bra while some rogue wolf was getting away. No wonder guys went commando.

  Finally naked and more than a little weirded out about baring it all to every Google Maps satellite, flying saucer and Amazon drone flying overhead, I squirmed in place, trying to call forth my inner wolf goddess, or however one did this, to remember the feeling of my bones splitting in two. But other than a pounding headache and a familiar shaking in my limbs, nothing happened.

  “Un-freaking-believable,” I snarled, pressing fingers to the scar at my throat.

  Instantly the bond sharpened like a rope pulled taut, Ethan’s heartbeat a steady whoosh in my ears as I closed my eyes, black spots forming in my field of vision. Dull pressure buzzed in the back of my mind, saliva filling my mouth as my muscles contracted. For a second, I swore my skin was being peeled inside out like a freshly-plucked chicken’s, that I was lying trapped in a bed, bound in rope, unable to move, stretch, or scream. The wolf clawed for an exit in a room with no doors, desperate to shed our human flesh. And then in the next instant, I was torn free.

  This one time I totally got up onstage to play a show after knocking back waaaay too many hits of cold medicine. I’ve never forgotten the sensation of the strobe lights threatening to make me black out, my head pounding in time with Eun-ji’s drums, or how I nearly fell face-first into a rabid mosh pit in the middle of the second set. Don’t judge. Try getting a gig in Austin and see if you cancel for anything short of hemorrhagic fever.

  This was pretty much the same, just on four paws.

  I swayed in place, black spots dotting my vision. And then everything came rushing back. Ethan. Stalker wolf. With a snarl, I bolted. The underbrush flashed by in a thousand shades of butternut gold, loam brown and brittle barky gray.

  Everything was wrong, the colors off, the smells distorted to the point they hurt, my ears roaring from a flood of information I couldn’t hope to process. Heart pounding, I vaulted fallen logs, skirted stands of live oak and mesquite, chasing the echo of Ethan’s heartbeat somewhere far ahead, off in the trees.

  The world blurred past, too sharp, sight and smell and scent so overpowering I itched at the rasp of mockingbirds rustling, could taste the tang of sage and mesquite in the air, found myself getting dizzy every time I blinked.

  Rocks scuttled underfoot as I scurried down a gully, the scent of the third wolf causing fury to rise in my blood. Come after me and my sister?

  I. Would. End. You.

  Paused at the edge of a creek bed, I was preparing to leap when a huge black wolf burst onto the path before me, cutting me off. I bared my teeth. He growled. I flipped my tail in his face, darting around him.

  The sounds of the highway grew ever louder. Ethan snarled behind me, images slamming into my head. Chocolate muffins. Trash bags. A small black wolf getting shoved into his bathroom. A stainless-steel bowl of kibble. I flashed fangs over one shoulder.

  For real? Werewolf time-out? Yeah, no.

  I shot back an image of badass Hayden-wolf eating Bad-wolf. Growling, Ethan leaped a fallen log, coming up beside me. Metal glinted in the distance as a truck flashed by. And then suddenly the wolf was Ethan, standing over me in jeans and no shirt. Hands on hips. Glaring
.

  Which was hot as hell. But, crap, he was pissed.

  Well too bad, because so was I. In a rush of fur and skin, I shifted back to human. And promptly remembered I was naked.

  “Ack! Turn around!”

  Ethan snorted. “You do remember last night when we—”

  “Death wish?”

  But he was already turning, a smirk in his voice. “Guess I should take it from here?”

  I flipped him off.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, I was scrolling through texts from my bandmates, so bone tired and sore I could barely flick my thumb across the screen.

  Shifting back the second time had involved a lot of snarling, the wolf refusing to let go, and Ethan having to lure me back to his truck by tossing out articles of clothing, which I promptly attacked like Meera’s cat on a laser pointer. And now I majorly needed some Advil before I started chewing on the upholstery.

  “—must have gotten picked up, or left a car somewhere,” Ethan was saying on the phone. “Yeah, out on Highway 29, north of town. Big brindle. Male. ‘Bout August’s size. Didn’t see him shift, had a head start. Yeah, well, you’re the track star, not me.”

  “Was that Brody—” I started when he yanked open the door, but he cut me off.

  “What I’m about to say isn’t because you’re a girl. I’ll be the first person to remind you it’s my mom who was the Tracer, not Ben, but lighting out after some Feral who’s been stalking you when you still can’t control your shift? Scared the hell out of me, Hays.”

  “I wasn’t going to do anything stupid.”

  “Oh, okay.” He started the ignition, following the line of tire tracks worn into the grass out towards the highway. “Shifting burns up a lot of fuel. Protein will help with the shakes. We gonna be able to hit up the drive-thru without you biting anyone?”

  “Prick.” I clacked my teeth at him, zombie-style.

  But the truth was, even though I still couldn’t stop shaking, there was something else churning underneath the muscle pain and fatigue, like the high you got right as you went on stage and the crowd began to roar, that electric current that made your skin buzz and your hair stand on end. Raw. Wild. Powerful.

  “She’s a pretty wolf,” he said as we bumped out over the cattle guard onto the highway.

  I snorted. “If you think you’re getting some freaky wolf action later—”

  “Yeah, not my kink. But she looks like you. Inky black fur. Violet eyes.”

  “Ugh. Way to sound like a bad romance novel—"

  “Brody and I are together on this,” he interrupted. “You’re staying with me until we catch this guy. You need hours, I’ll give them to you at Dark, but no more going off alone.”

  “Ellie—”

  “Brody’s on it. Neither one of us likes the looks of this. Too many players and the pieces don’t add up. Your sire changed you by force, tailed you here from Austin, stalked you over at the trailer park with who knows how many people hanging around. There’s maybe someone else following Ellie, which I can’t even think about right now because this guy? Getting so close in broad daylight when he can smell there’s a more dominant male around? Bad sign.”

  Ethan gripped the steering wheel, knuckles turning white.

  “You’re being hunted.”

  6

  Hayden

  ETHAN AND I SPENT THE NEXT THREE DAYS tracking my stalker in between shifts at Dark. After following the trail back across the Caldwell’s property into town, through two dumpsters, and underneath a busted Chevy Impala, I started to wonder if the wolf I’d glimpsed darting away spent any time in human form at all.

  We were backtracking through the side streets of Blood Moon when the sky exploded in a sudden downpour. Every spring, Central Texas got thunderstorms like you wouldn’t believe. Winter often meant months of drought, the ground turning so dry the grass shriveled up and blew away in papery white tufts. But within five minutes of that line of gunmetal gray thunderheads driving in off the western horizon, hailstones would blanket the ground like snow, the culverts flooding with ten inches of rain. They were beautiful in the way most things in Texas were beautiful—fierce, wild and rare enough to make you appreciate what this planet could create despite their destructive power.

  “He’s being too careful, avoiding all the cameras.” Ethan dragged me under the awning of The Broken Spoke, Blood Moon’s world-famous barbeque pit owned by none other than Dallas Caldwell.

  “Can Brody talk to local business owners, get their footage?”

  “Sure. But he’ll have to be careful. It’s always a balancing act. You start asking questions, pulling data, who’s gonna get curious? Unless we can be sure we’re onto something—"

  “It’s not worth the risk.”

  “Right. We’ve got motion-activated cameras outside Dark. If he tries to get close, we’ll get him on tape.”

  He swiped his hair out of his eyes, the rain sticking his t-shirt to his chest.

  I bit my bottom lip. “Do you have to close later?”

  Ethan slid a hand into my back pocket, drawing me in. “Curry and Westeros?”

  My heartrate increased, the tingling connection of the bond shivering across my skin. Every night the moon rose and my body came alive. Ethan and I hadn’t gone any farther than our hookup on the counter downstairs at Dark. Which had meant a lot of heated make-out sessions on his couch. And table. And okay, that one time he held my wrists over my head up against the door. Um, yes please.

  I couldn’t be sure what this was. What we were. Was I just fooling myself into thinking I was different? Or was I the next in a long line of Lacey Blairs?

  In the moments I managed to cling to consciousness long enough to retain my human shape, we ate takeout and curled up on the couch in front of his laptop, binge-watching Game of Thrones over containers of honey-sesame chicken, beef with broccoli, wonton soup and crispy egg rolls. Having someone else who geeked out over the Starks as much as I did? Yes, please. But it was more than that. It was Ethan giving me stolen moments of normalcy in a world that had been upended, daring to show me glimpses of a side of himself he fought to hide from the rest of the world.

  Every night, I got stronger, managing to hold out a few more minutes each time before, shaking and sick, I let myself be taken by the wolf. While I went furry, Ethan sketched, occasionally sliding bowls of Cocoa Puffs into my new lair beneath his coffee table in exchange for toe kisses. Twice I’d awakened in his arms, human again, being carried to bed. When I begged him in a slurry voice to stay, he pressed a kiss to my forehead and retreated to the couch out front.

  But some nights it was impossible to fight the rising sense of helplessness. I couldn’t leave. Couldn’t see my sister. Night after night, I battled rage, confusion and blackouts. Forgot who I was only to wake in a post-shift stupor. Trembled as tears pricked the backs of my eyes, wanting to break every dish, shred every pillow, destroy all of Ethan’s furniture down to the last chair. And then curl into a ball and weep, trapped and alone with the part of what had happened I could never say aloud. That in those darkest moments just after twilight, I worried I would never feel like me again.

  Ethan had me talking to Cal. Which… describing moonlust-fueled hookups with your therapist’s brother and whether or not they were a good idea in the long term? Um, awkward? But after watching my dad deny he had a problem and go back to using no matter how many programs Piper tried to get him into, I knew I needed help dealing with this.

  I was in the middle of a killer practice session Saturday afternoon when my hands started to shake.

  “C'mon,” I said under my breath. "Five minutes. Not yet.”

  Fumbling like I’d downed three margaritas, I forced my fingers back to the right frets. But thirty seconds later, the muscle spasms were so bad I was in danger of rewriting rock history In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida style. I pulled out my phone, the room blurring as the wolf clawed to get free. Not even six. Just freaking great. Between trying to track down whoever
was out to kill me, fight training (I’d been informed my epic Kleenex-box-versus-spider ninja skills did not count when confronting the feral and undead), and learning not to eat Ethan’s couch when I shifted, Daisy Addiction’s gig next weekend was on track to be an epic fail.

  Thumbs shaking, I tapped out a text.

  Me: Where are you? Threat level hangry.

  Darth Roast: Someone called in. Closing now. Pizza and Walking Dead?

  A new text notification popped up. Ellie.

  CadburyFunny: I work tonight. Quick queso and guac at Guillermo’s?

  Me: What about lunch tomorrow?

  CadburyFunny: Meera wants you to come with us to NYC.

  Ellie was convinced Ethan had me locked in his cellar. Telling her I turned into Beowulf every day at sunset would get her on the Council’s hit list. Which left option three: lie.

  Me: You know I can’t. Huge gig next wknd.

  CadburyFunny: She’s worried. We all are. Maybe some time away would be good.

  Me: I can’t.

  CadburyFunny: Ninja-cat GIF.

  Me: Call off the hounds

  The three little dots seemed to blink forever as I pictured Ellie walking out to her car rage-texting.

  CadburyFunny: Is he there right now?

  Me: no…

  My phone exploded with All Along the Watchtower, the picture of me and Ellie smashed together on the screen compacting my heart into a little tinfoil ball. Tears pricked my eyes as I sent it to voicemail.

  Darth Roast: miss you

  I clicked on the attached image. A yellow post-it was taped to the serving counter downstairs at Dark. On it was a latte with a heart swirled into its depths. I swiped my cheeks.

  Darth Roast: You okay?

  Before I could find a GIF of Vikings ransacking a shopping mall to appropriately convey the not-okay-ness of my mood, my screen lit up again, this time with a call from an unfamiliar number. I hesitated, thumb hovering over Decline. But what if it was August or Cal calling to say there was some sort of problem with Ellie? I tapped to accept.