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

by Kat Kinney

  “Hello?”

  Silence. Chills trickled up my spine. I checked the screen just as the call dropped. Rubbing my temples, I debated whether I really wanted to listen to Ellie’s message.

  The phone buzzed in my hand. Same number. A weird feeling twisted in my gut. Fingers shaking, I swiped.

  More silence. I lowered my head, stomach in knots. Cal and I had been over the expected after-effects of a traumatic event. Nightmares. Panic attacks. Anxiety. Anger. I’d been mugged. Assaulted. Freaking out over everyday things like slammed doors and unknown callers was normal.

  Taking a breath, I ended the call.

  Dropping the phone, I paced the length of the room. Okay. Talk to Ethan. But tell him what, exactly? That a random hang up call had me so completely freaked I needed him to swaddle me in werewolf bubble-wrap? So not happening.

  I rubbed my arms, tearing open Ethan’s drawer in search of one of his hoodies. Okay, maybe not werewolf bubble-wrap. But I was totally stealing his clothes.

  Frowning, I pulled the drawer open when something thumped inside. There beneath sloppily folded pajama pants and a kelp forest of black socks was a flat, heavy box. Checking the door, I set the box down on top of the dresser. There was a latch, but no lock. Chewing my lip, I lifted the lid.

  A shadow moved in the doorway.

  Startled, I knocked the box off the dresser. Instinctively, I lunged for it, my fingers closing around something cold and metallic. White-hot pain seared through my flesh.

  I screamed.

  “Hayden!”

  Tears blurred my vision. I stared down at the gleaming silver handcuffs for only a second before they were torn from my hands, clattering against the wall. Ethan gripped my shoulders, dragging me into the bathroom. I shivered, gasping for breath as he wrapped his arms around me from behind, getting the tap going, guiding my hands underneath it so the water could cool the burns. He smoothed my hair off my neck, pressing his lips repeatedly to my claiming mark and murmuring in a low voice, my heartbeat slowing as our wolves melded.

  I blinked down at my hands, watching as raw, red welts blistered across my skin.

  Ethan cursed. “Stay here. I’m going to find some ointment.”

  Shutting off the tap with my wrist, I rubbed my eyes with the back of my arm. Ethan returned.

  “What the hell was that?”

  He blew out a breath. “Emergency restraints—handcuffs, chains, shackles, carabiners, clamps—all silver, which is highly toxic to shifters. My brothers and I keep them on hand in case any of us needs to restrain a Feral.”

  Because, you know, it was totally normal to collect instruments of torture.

  My stomach plummeted as Ethan uncapped a little tube and began slathering ointment over the burn.

  “You’d chain them up like animals, just… listen to them scream?”

  “Not my first choice. But in addition to being toxic, silver is also incredibly addictive. The clarity the pain brings, the fact that it’s one of the few things that drives back the wolf, can serve almost as a high. Our community is full of silver chasers and pain junkies, people whose wolves are so damaged they can’t be controlled any other way. They’re totally dependent on supplements, bracelets, even silver-lined rooms to keep from going off the rails. Sometimes the only hope of rehabilitation is to get them lucid, then slowly wean them off the stuff. It’s a messed-up cycle.”

  I thought of the night I was attacked. Was that what had happened to me? Had an addict deprived of his fix snapped and lost control, forever turning me into a monster? Was it possible I was nothing more than collateral damage in someone else’s drama, just like I’d always been with my father?

  Taping off the bandage, Ethan dropped the supplies on the bed and lowered his head. “You’d tell me, right? If you were thinking about hurting yourself?”

  “Ethan—”

  “No bullshit, Daisy. I’m serious. Some new Bittens self-injure as a way to deal. Borns, too. They cut or they take stuff knowing with our rapid healing abilities, the effects will be erased within hours. Problem is, it’s like trying to train a wild dog by beating it with a stick. It warps the connection with your wolf. Sometimes for good.”

  I swallowed. “I’m not.”

  Ethan held my eyes for a long moment, like he wasn’t sure whether or not to believe me. Finally he pushed away from the dresser, heading back into the galley kitchen.

  “You want pizza?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  Back to me, he grated extra gouda onto a stuffed-crust deluxe. “Guess I’m eating this tiramisu all by myself then.”

  I made a strangled whining sound.

  “Chocolate and zombies?”

  I cued up The Walking Dead. Ethan flopped down beside me in a fitted gray tee and sleep pants, arm thrown behind my pillow. I felt a little flutter behind my belly button, the wolf preening at having him so close.

  “I can hold the plate.”

  “Like I’m falling for that.”

  I stuck out my tongue. He tickled me and I shrieked.

  “Death. Wish.”

  “You’re gonna forgive me in about two seconds.”

  The fork hovered in front of my lips, fragrant hints of espresso, cocoa and rich cream making my mouth water. I opened up. Chocolate exploded across my tongue. Moaning, I collapsed onto the pillow. Ethan moved over me, setting the plate aside.

  “You’ve got some cocoa—”

  Half an hour later the timer went off. We ate in the kitchen, standing up, devouring gooey, cheesy slices piled with ham, sausage, mushrooms and black olives.

  “I never pictured you as quite so domesticated.”

  “Uh, totally making me sound like one of those creepy hairless cats that has to wear the sweaters.”

  “Again, with the making fun of our love cat.”

  “We are not getting a love cat. You don’t even like cats. You’d probably eat her the first time I didn’t manage to chase you around the couch fast enough with the Dilly Bars.”

  I flipped him off. “You know what I mean. You’re the artist. Dallas is the cook.”

  “You do get that we’re not the seven dwarves, right?”

  “I get that I’d totally rock the goth Snow White look.”

  A crease formed in his cheek. “Pretty sure she eats apples. As opposed to my couch.”

  “I was hangry.”

  “Uh huh.”

  Rolling my eyes, I kicked his toe. “And for the record, you know I think what you’ve done with Dark is amazing. The new look. Inviting in local artists for readings. The open mic nights—”

  “Some of that stuff hasn’t really taken off yet.”

  “My point is you’re helping revitalize the downtown district. Making Blood Moon into more than just a weekend tourist trap for wannabe fang-heads.”

  He reached for his Sprite. “Yeah, well. Not everyone sees it the way you do.”

  “You want to share with the class?”

  He hesitated for a beat, then shrugged. “My dad was cool with me taking over as manager the first couple of years, you know? Figured it was better than me getting into trouble. Let’s just say my decision to quit community college after two semesters didn’t do anything for our relationship.”

  I turned the question over in my head for a minute, and finally decided to just come out and ask. “Are you happy?”

  “Happy as any of us deserves to be. College wasn’t for me. Mom got it, I think. Ben, well, that’s another story.”

  “Do you ever think about renting out studio space, trying to sell some of your art?”

  Blinking, he pushed up his glasses. “I don’t know. Right now, I have the shop to run. Brody says it’s mine, you know. At the end of the year. Ben and Sofia set it up before—"

  A weighted silence settled over the room. I started to apologize, but before I could, Ethan was putting Daisy Addiction’s latest set list on and starting on the dishes, effectively signaling that for the time being at least, this conversation was ove
r.

  I leaned against the counter. “Can Brody trace a phone number?”

  “Not without a warrant. Why?”

  “Weird call. They never said anything. I could just be freaking out.”

  “I’ll text him in a few hours when he’s off duty.”

  I traced the scar at his wrist, finger grazing the edge of his leather cuff. Ethan reached for another plate, gently prying free from my grip.

  A strange feeling twisted in the pit of my stomach.

  “Where did you get your cuff?”

  He tensed. “Why?”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever asked you. You’re always wearing it.”

  “Ben,” he said shortly.

  “How long have you had it?“

  "What is this, twenty questions?” He gripped the edge of the sink, the sharp edge to his pulse slamming in my neck. “I don’t know. Since I was a kid, I guess.”

  “Do the markings on the band mean anything?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  “It's just... I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without it.”

  He didn’t answer. When I reached for his wrist, he twisted away.

  “Shit,” I breathed. “It has silver in it, doesn’t it?”

  Flipping off the sink, he retreated into the bedroom. Arms crossed, I followed. Ethan scrubbed a hand over his face.

  “It doesn’t. Not anymore. You have to let me explain.”

  “Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.”

  His throat bobbed. “I was going to tell you, I swear.”

  “You never take it off.”

  “I can’t. It covers the scarring.”

  I raked a hand through my hair. “How—"

  “It was Ben’s idea. I… had trouble controlling myself when I first came to live with him and Sofia. Most Borns shift for the first time between the ages of four and five. There are anomalies. Cal was two. But before I had a chance to change forms, my parents—my biological parents—died. And so I didn’t.

  “When you try to suppress the wolf, well, you’ve seen the results. Between the shock of losing my parents and having social services separate me and August, I forced everything down deep inside, kind of walled myself off. Two years later I reached a boiling point. I ran away from my foster home, blacked out and shifted. I woke up miles away the next day.”

  I covered my mouth. “Ethan—"

  “The damage had been done. By the time Ben found me, I had no control, could barely keep my wolf in check—"

  “And his answer was to put a torture device on a kid?”

  Ethan frowned. “You don’t understand.”

  This time when I grabbed for his wrist, he didn’t fight. Turning the leather cuff over, I examined the underside.

  “I’m taking this off now.”

  He swallowed. “Hayden.”

  “Shut up.” I worked the leather straps loose.

  The last buckle released and I sucked in a breath, shocked at the sight of what he’d done to himself. Sickeningly pale compared to the rest of his arm, the flesh beneath the cuff was scarred by row upon row of angry black hatch marks. Years upon years of silver burns scarred over and re-healed only to be seared fresh into his skin every time he moved.

  And suddenly I wanted to throat-punch Ben Caldwell.

  “It’s not that bad.”

  Giving him death-eyes, I cradled his wrist. “Want to try that again?”

  “It’s been worse.”

  “Do I need to have Violet bite you?”

  “Violet?”

  “Big eyes. Swishy tail. Sharp teeth. Has a thing for Dilly Bars.”

  His lip twitched. “You named her?”

  “Technically you did.”

  I traced the sharp, angular scars, fingertips cool against his skin. Ethan leaned back against the pillow, intent on the progress of my fingers.

  “I used to try leaving it off. I’d make it… hours. Once an entire day before the shakes and hallucinations got so bad I was forced to put it back on.”

  “What changed?”

  “You.” When my head shot up, he just nodded. “You left that night and… things got really bad for a while. I knew I needed to get help. Cal found someone I could talk to. I’ve been clean for over two years.”

  The image of my father, strung out and unconscious on our couch, rose unbidden and unwelcome to the forefront of my mind, the enormity of what Ethan had done hitting me in a rush.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  The silence stretched.

  “I told you I’ve never tried to be with anyone. Not for real. I’m screwed up, Hayden. I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. But sometimes I ask myself if maybe you should just stay away.”

  I bit my lip. “So is that what you want? To run?”

  “You want to know how many times I worried something about me got so messed up when I was a kid that I just can’t be in a relationship? At least not without hurting the other person. I’ve never done this before. I don’t know if I can.”

  I looked down. “Do you even want to?”

  “Be with you?” He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles turned white. “Sometimes, I think it’s the only thing I’ve ever wanted. Why I tried so hard to stay away.”

  “Why?” I whispered, staring into hazel eyes I’d memorized a thousand times.

  His chest rose and fell, breaths coming too fast, as if I’d asked the one question he’d been dreading since I walked back into Dark, back into his life.

  “Because I’m poison.”

  “No.” I cupped his face in both hands, lifting his chin. A breath before our lips met, I whispered, “You’re mine.”

  He tugged me forward into his lap, the kiss quickly growing urgent. But when I stripped his shirt off, running my hands down the sculpted muscles of his torso, he broke away, pressing his forehead to mine.

  “Okay, so we have to talk about this.”

  I bit his lip. “You’re such a cockblocker.”

  “Yeah, and as much as I’m all up for this happening, things the other night got really effed up. It’s biological once the wolf gets in the driver’s seat, and neither one of us was fully in control of what we were doing. But if this is about to happen, I need to make sure we’re both on the same page.”

  I sat back, face flaming. “Ethan, I—”

  “Don’t. It wasn’t your fault. I’ve been a werewolf my whole life. I couldn’t stop the bonding rush either. It… happened. But if we’re gonna take that next step, this time it has to be all you and me.”

  I held his eyes. “It is.”

  He was so close I could practically taste the espresso and soap on his skin, wanted to run my tongue over the beard growth darkening his jaw. His thumb teased my bottom lip, lightly tracing the little silver ring.

  I caught his lips in a kiss. Our tongues met, his pulse pounding under my fingertips as I skimmed his chest. His hands slid under my tank, slowly drawing it up my torso. He grazed the back of his knuckles up past my navel, measuring the dip of my clavicle as if I were a work of art, like my body was something to memorize and paint in a thousand interpretations. His fingers smoothed over my skin, warm and calloused, mapping my ribs, caressing my hips. I stretched my arms up over my head, his touch raising gooseflesh as he grazed the undersides of my breasts. Time slowed as he tasted and tempered, exploring ticklish spots, discovering every inch of skin that could make me shudder and squirm. And still it wasn’t enough. Not close to enough.

  Ethan’s fingers glided up my spine, pausing between my shoulder blades to unhook my bra. “God. You’re beautiful.”

  I bit his lip, wolf so close to the surface my thoughts were turning savage.

  “Tie me up.”

  The straps shivered down my shoulders, the sudden rush of cool air peaking my nipples and causing my breath to speed. He tugged lightly at one, sending electricity arcing from his lips at my throat to the juncture of my thighs.

  Something rough and warm scraped up
my torso, starting at the band of my panties, traveling past my navel. My breath caught as Ethan traced my bottom lip, and I recognized his studded leather belt.

  He bound my hands and moved over me. Hard, calloused palms smoothed up my bare ribcage, thumbs slowly circling my navel as his breath raised goosebumps at my exposed throat.

  “You want to guess how many times I pictured you naked that last year we worked together, waited until after close to go upstairs and draw you spread out over my bed just like this?” He grazed the rim of my areola with a single fingertip, the touch so light I shuddered in delicious agony. “This puts everything I imagined to shame.”

  “Please,” I breathed, arching into his touch.

  He sucked hot kisses down the column of my neck, tongue flicking across his bite scar at the base of my throat. My wolf came alive, the tether between us sharpening, tightening until I was trembling from my fingertips down to my toes.

  Ethan palmed me, hands warm and rough, tongue flicking the wet tip of my breast. I twisted in the restraints, skin humming in anticipation. He moved over me so his mouth was poised at my throat, laving and teasing so that twists of pleasure arced through my belly with every sharp tug of his fingers. I cried out as his teeth sank into my shoulder, shivering at the rush of ecstasy through the bond. Growling, Ethan slid down my body to tear my panties away. He parted me with his thumbs, the flat of his tongue rolling in smooth strokes, the hard stud of his piercing causing me to see sparks.

  I released a strangled cry. Rough, warm hands held me down as stars burst on the backs of my eyelids, the tantalizing combination of pleasure and pain, of being bound and consumed, inch by glorious inch, tipping me over the edge. Ethan kissed a slow trail up my body when it was over.

  “You still up for more?”

  I let my gaze lick over his naked form, the chiseled lines of his chest, the tight muscles of his abs, and further down where his cock stood at attention. “Hell, yeah.”

  I nipped his pec and he groaned, our tongues dancing as he fumbled briefly in the nightstand, then moved over me. A shiver ran through me starting from the tips of my toes all the way up to the nape of my neck. I arched in the restraints, marking the broad line of his shoulders with my teeth.

  “You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this. Pictured the day I would make you mine.” Pressing his lips to the scar at my throat, he entered me and withdrew, dipping and teasing, giving me only a taste. “You want this, Hayden?”