Under the Moon (Goddesses Rising)

by Natalie J. Damschroder

  “You’re the one who wouldn’t undo my hands!” she yelled. “Go find a tree!”

  He grunted and then, incredibly, his footsteps crunched away across the gravel. She rushed to get her jeans fastened, then slowly, quietly, unlatched the door and eased it open.

  The unit was positioned sideways to the parking area, with the door opening on the left. When she cracked it, it blocked her from where the truck was parked. No one stood nearby. She slipped out and toward the left side, closest to the woods, and held the door so it didn’t bang closed. Plastic slapped softly on plastic, and then she was behind the john.

  She pressed her back to the wall for a second, well hidden in the shadows, and struggled to keep her breathing steady and silent. She checked to her left and right. No sign of her tree-seeking friend. About fifteen feet of lit, open space lay between her and the woods, but if she could get in there, she might be able to get away. She had to act fast before they realized she was done going to the bathroom.

  Taking a deep breath, she tensed, then took off as fast and as lightly as she could, trying not to make any sound on the stones. That was impossible, and halfway to the woods someone cursed, then shouted. Footsteps pounded behind her. She dashed full-tilt into the woods, her bound hands slowing her down, but she made it into the darkness before they closed on her.

  She darted to the right, hoping they’d think she charged ahead. She needed to get some distance and find a place to hide, then somehow dig her cell phone out of her jacket pocket and call Nick.

  She couldn’t hear them behind her anymore, but she made a racket of her own that would cover up their noise. She could barely see and was moving so fast—relatively speaking—that she had several near-misses with trees, only dodging at the last second.

  Then her foot landed in a hole below the leaves. Her right ankle snapped sideways. She cried out as she went down hard on her side, the nausea welling much more strongly this time. Pain flowed up her leg and dispersed through her entire body. She lay on the ground, holding her breath against the sharp agony in her ankle for way too long before it subsided.

  Now she could hear her abductors crashing through the woods. Farther away than she thought, but still too close. She couldn’t just lie here. Panting slightly, she rolled up to her knees, then pushed to her feet on the left side, slowly putting her weight on her right. To her relief, the ankle felt okay. When she rotated it, the ligaments and tendons shrieked, but it wasn’t so bad she couldn’t walk.

  She worked her way up to a trot again, relieved when the ankle continued to hold, but moving much slower now so she didn’t injure it again. A beam flashed ahead—headlights on the highway. She was almost out of the woods.

  A body stepped in front of her and caught her upper arms as she slammed into him. A scream gathered in her throat, but she managed to hold it in. She balled her hands into fists as best she could and swung them right, then with all her force spun into a two-fisted punch that connected with the side of the guy’s head. He cursed and lost his grip. She’d run half a dozen more steps before she realized she recognized his voice.

  “Nick?” she whispered, peering back at him. He leaned against a tree, his hand to the side of his head.

  “Yeah. Jesus Christ, Quinn, I’m trying to save you.”

  Oh, thank god.

  “Then save me.” She held out her hands. He stepped toward her, his hand in his pocket. With the snick of his switchblade and a quick tug, she was free.

  “Thank you,” she breathed, rubbing her wrists. She’d never felt anything so good. Except maybe a few minutes ago in the Porta-Potty.

  “Keep running. Charger’s on the road a couple hundred feet back.”

  Quinn didn’t need further urging. Her pursuers had gained on her since she fell. But with her hands free she could at least push obstacles out of the way before they hit her in the face. In minutes they burst onto the shoulder of a four-lane highway. She hobbled to the Charger, parked in a small emergency pull-off. Nick slid across the hood and got inside at the same time she did. She looked back toward the woods that lined the road as he started the car. No movement, no light, but she still sensed them pursuing her. Her foot pressed on an invisible accelerator, and she braced against the dash, willing the car to start moving.

  “They might have run back to the truck,” she said. If Nick drove ahead, they’d pass the kidnappers, and as fast as the Charger was, the SUV had a powerful engine.

  “Don’t worry.” Nick pulled onto the road but did an immediate U-turn across the grassy median. His tires spun once in the soft earth, then caught and flung them onto the far side of the highway. He slammed his foot on the accelerator, and they flew.

  Quinn wondered where Sam was, but every fiber concentrated on watching through the rear window for pursuit. She saw no headlights and no flashes of streetlamps off a vehicle running dark. Slowly, her body relaxed.

  After a few minutes, she said, “I think we’re clear.” She turned back, grinning with the euphoria of freedom, and saw Nick’s face. His jaw was clenched so tight it pulsed. His hands and arms were stiff enough to rip the steering wheel off its column if he turned it, and his eyes bore so hard into the road in front of them, Quinn was amazed it didn’t explode.

  “Thank you, Nick,” she said softly, hoping to defuse him. He was furious with her. Even though he’d cleared her to go into the store, she’d been too complacent and let them sneak up on her. Nick never had a chance to stop them from taking her.

  “Don’t,” he bit out, and she knew he meant more than don’t thank him. She didn’t talk the rest of the short drive. Nick got off the dark highway at the next exit and followed even darker, more deserted back roads to the edge of what appeared to be a small lake. He skidded to a stop outside a tiny cabin, one of a few dotting the shoreline, and pushed his door open, leaving the headlights on to illuminate the pitch black.

  Quinn climbed out slowly, wary. Nick stalked toward the cabin, spun around halfway there, and stalked back to her. He met Quinn at the front of the car, yanked her into his arms, and slammed his mouth down on hers. Fury burned into instant passion, and instead of bruising her, Nick plundered.

  Heat swept over Quinn, chased by his desperation and the power of something that had been bottled up far too long. She shuddered and arched into him, her hands clenched hard on his shoulders, her body burning and aching. Part of her protested, This is Nick! But the rest of her sighed, This is Nick. He drove one hand up under her hair to hold her head and bent her backward over his other arm while his mouth devoured hers and his tongue plunged, over and over.

  Quinn hadn’t been kissed, or kissed anyone else, in years. Not even Sam. Not since the first time she’d kissed Nick, and that had ended in disaster. Part of her despaired that this would end the same way, but before she had time to really react, he broke away and stared down at her, panting. “We’ve got to get inside.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, pushing away from him. But he didn’t let go. He held her and crossed the dozen feet to the door of the cabin, up the steps, and inside. The door closed, and he shoved her backward with his body to press her against the hard wood. This time, the kiss was all hunger. He laced the fingers of his left hand through her right and held it over her head, against the door. His other hand found her waist, under her coat and shirt, and stroked her skin in time to the rhythm of his tongue.

  Quinn didn’t care what this meant. She wanted to scream, to laugh. Her body acknowledged how right this was, how necessary. Not because of channeling power or moon lust, but because this was Nick, and she wanted him. She tugged at his leather coat, trying to get it off. He barely let go long enough for it to drop to the floor. When she pushed his T-shirt up his body, he grabbed the back of it with one hand and yanked it over his head, then threw it aside and pulled Quinn against him again. A sob escaped her throat when her mouth met his skin for the first time. It was silk to her fingertips, his back and shoulders hard beneath her hands. Need thundered through her, and she welcome
d it, even embraced it.

  But then he stopped. He buried his face in her neck, his heaving chest crushing her against the rough wood. He brought one hand back and slammed it against the door but didn’t release her where his other arm wrapped around her waist. Then he didn’t move for long minutes.

  Quinn’s passion subsided along with Nick’s tension. She stroked her hands through his short, almost prickly hair and then across his shoulders, soothing. He still didn’t move, wouldn’t look at her, even when she tried to tug him back so she could see his face.

  “When I couldn’t find you”—his voice rumbled in her ear—“it was pure terror. I saw that truck leave the garage, and I knew you had to be in it, and if I lost it for a second, you’d be gone forever.”

  “It’s all right,” Quinn murmured. “You didn’t lose me.”

  He leaned away from her now, far enough to brace his forehead against hers. “Never out of my sight, Quinn.” His voice cracked. “How many—”

  “Times do you have to say it, I know.” She traced her fingertips along his jaw and didn’t remind him that he’d okayed the short distance. It wasn’t his fault. “Thank you for saving me.”

  “You saved yourself. I couldn’t get close enough to the damned truck to stop it, and even if I could have, I had no idea how many were in there, what I was up against.” His voice was rough, anguished, and Quinn’s chest hurt with the pain of it. “In all my years as a protector, I’ve never lost a goddess. And then you—” His voice cracked again, and Quinn shushed him.

  “It’s okay, Nick. I’m safe. You got me.”

  “Only because you were smart enough to stall until I got in position.”

  She had to chuckle. “That wasn’t intentional. They didn’t untie my hands. I had no choice but to be slow.”

  “Thank god for that.” He pressed his lips to her forehead, then eased away until her feet touched the ground. Everything shifted when he let go of her, and they became separate entities again.

  The air thickened with the apology on its way. This was the part where he regretted what he’d let happen. He’d compromised his integrity as a protector, had forced himself on her, had jeopardized her safety because he was focused on what they were doing instead of on whether or not they’d been found.

  She didn’t want to hear any of it.

  “Where’s Sam?” she asked.

  Nick backed away and bent to get his shirt.

  “I left him at the hotel.” He sounded normal now, less tormented. “Called him a few times. He found this place when the truck first slowed down, like they were looking for something, and I thought I might be able to get you out.”

  “We’d better let him know you did.” She smoothed her hair and clothes, then turned away rather than watch Nick put himself to rights. He was way too sexy with rumpled hair, half dressed, his mouth heavy from their kisses. If she looked too long she’d want him again, and he wouldn’t be able to pass it off as simple relief.

  Which she had to let him do, if he was going to remain in her life. He’d leave her with another protector rather than let this compromise everything he stood for. He had a job to do, a job that was more important to him, and to the Society, than any personal needs. He couldn’t have a normal life, so he wouldn’t prevent her from having one, too. Grief swelled her throat and rose up, making her eyes sting.

  She pulled out her cell phone and hit the button for Sam’s. He answered immediately, and hearing his voice was like reconnecting with the mother ship. The urge to cry receded.

  “Quinn.”

  “Yeah, Sam. I’m safe.”

  “Thank god. Where are you?”

  “The camp you told Nick about. No one’s found us. We’ll wait another half hour or so, then head back to get you.”

  “No, go straight on to your place, if you’re sure you’ve lost them. You’d be backtracking too much to come get me, so I called for a rental car. I’ll meet you at the cabin. Are you okay?” he added. “You sound okay, but—”

  “I’m fine. They didn’t hurt me.”

  “Good.” He cleared his throat.

  “We’ll meet you soon.”

  “Wait, Quinn.” She waited, hearing the rustle of papers. “I did some more digging on your birth family while I was waiting. It shouldn’t have taken so long, but Nick had the fucking last name wrong.”

  She didn’t want to hear about Nick’s shortcomings right now. “You found something?” Her heart pounded in escalating rhythm.

  “I sure as hell did.” He paused. “Quinn, you have a sister.”

  Chapter Eight

  Goddess lineage is maternal and almost never dormant. The Society keeps careful track of its members, registering a new goddess upon her birth and offering educational support when she turns twenty-one and discovers both the source and manifestation of her power.

  —The Society for Goddess Education and Defense, New Member Brochure

  …

  Quinn’s phone beeped. Low battery.

  “I have a what?”

  “A sister. She’s—”

  Another beep. Shit. “Sam, I’m going to lose you. I’ll call you back.” The call dropped and the screen went dark. She whirled on Nick, her ankle protesting. “Let me use your phone.”

  He shook his head. “It’s almost out of juice. I was on with Sam for a lot of the last six hours.”

  “You have a charger, don’t you?”

  “Car charger broke. Haven’t had time to get a new one.”

  “What about a regular charger?”

  Nick waved a hand. “No electricity.”

  She turned, studying the room she hadn’t noticed when they first came in. The tiny, warp-planked cabin was bare bones, with an empty steel bed frame in one corner and a bent Formica table in another. No outlets, no lamps, only the glow of the headlights outside. “What is this place?”

  “Private campground. Sam figured it would be deserted this time of year. The sign out by the highway is damaged, too. They won’t find us.”

  “Shit.” She shoved a hand through her hair, realizing how wild it must look between the hood, her run through the woods, and Nick’s hands in it. “Okay, let’s get going as soon as possible.”

  “Give it a few more minutes.” He picked up his coat from the floor and shrugged it on. “You warm enough?”

  “Fine.” She limped to the bed and lowered herself to the edge of the frame. “Should you turn off the headlights?”

  “It’ll be okay for a minute.” He didn’t come closer, but she could feel his frown in the darkness. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “Sam just told me I have a sister.”

  The distance Nick had been trying to maintain disappeared. He snapped back to his usual self and sat beside her.

  “I meant you were limping, but we’ll come back to that. He didn’t have time to tell you anything else, did he?”

  “No.”

  He took her hand. “Only a few more hours.”

  “You really need to get a car charger for your phone.”

  His teeth flashed white in the darkness as he smiled. “Or maybe one of those battery-powered instant chargers?”

  “Yeah.” She wished she could shut off her brain until they got to Michigan and she could get answers from Sam, but it persisted in spinning questions and theories. At least, if she concentrated on those, she could ignore the indecipherable swirl of emotions inside her.

  After a moment of silence, Nick joined the what-if game. “You think the family ties Alana mentioned mean your sister?”

  A foreign sensation zipped over Quinn’s skin at the word. “It’s the likely assumption. But how do they know? She might not even be a goddess.”

  “She’s gotta be. Dormancy’s rare, you know that.”

  Quinn wanted to feel joy and excitement about the prospect of a sister, but the men in the truck had made that impossible. “The guys who abducted me?”

  “Yeah.” His voice went deep, gruff. “What about them?”


  “They were careful with me. They wanted me neutralized but not harmed. Because ‘she’ would have their asses.”

  “Oh, man.” He straightened and let go of her hand to check his watch, pressing a button to illuminate the face. “Why were you limping? Twisted ankle?”

  “Yeah, it’s okay. I’m sure it’s swollen and it’ll be sore for a while, but I can walk.”

  “The first-aid kit had a chemical cold pack. You can put your foot up on the backseat and ice the ankle.”

  “Okay, let’s go.”

  They drove nonstop. For a while, Nick left Quinn to her thoughts, reclining on the seat behind him. She focused on the mundane. What would a sister look like? Was she older or younger? Was she adopted, too? Quinn didn’t want to be jealous if she wasn’t, if their parents had kept her sister when they hadn’t keep her. She reminded herself of their visit when she was eight, of how glad they had been that she was with people who loved her. She thought her mother—her birth mother—had had tears in her eyes when she smoothed Quinn’s hair and told her to be happy. And she had been happy. She couldn’t lose sight of that. But when she let her imagination go, it spun daydreams of pushing her little sister on the swings, playing tag in a big sunlit park, teaching her to tie her shoes.

  Fanciful crap, she thought, squinting as the sun broke on the horizon. She hadn’t had that and never could. Her sister was an adult, and whether she knew about Quinn or not, welcomed her or not, they’d have to build a relationship from scratch, like any grown strangers who met…under extreme circumstances.

  The dread flowing quietly under her thoughts rose. For a while, she’d forgotten her sister could have orchestrated her abduction. Maybe she’d also flipped Sam’s car and attacked her and Nick in Boston. Maybe she was a psychopath.