Bad Moon Rising (The Crown's Wolves)

by Zoe Forward

  Roman had despised those events. The men in suits and the women in corseted gowns all doing polite dancing with as little touching as possible while family heads discussed power matings.

  Colin said, “You have no idea how lucky you are to be able to avoid that nightmare. The posturing, the testosterone… It’s revolting, more so since not a single one of those females can actually choose who they find attractive. It’s all about males and power alliances. Mark my words, those females are far more cunning than the pawns we make them out to be. So, one of them being abducted is disturbing on multiple levels. Someone is stealing our ability to reproduce and taking the shrewdest of our kind.” He waved his cup dismissively. “Maybe you found one of the lost ones. Tell me about her. I’ll let you know if she’s one someone’s looking for.”

  “She’s not that old. Maybe fifty. She’s got magic marks on her neck.”

  Colin eyebrows drew low at the comment about marks. “Is she pureblood or part human or part something else?”

  “Not a mix.”

  Colin emptied his pint and stared. “A missing female with magic marks. She’s not one I was contacted about as missing.”

  Roman’s heart raced. He knew something.

  They stared at each other in silence for a few moments.

  “I want to help her find her people.” He placed a small box on the table.

  With eyebrows up in question at his offering, Roman opened the box for a second to flash the two white pills inside. He slid the box between them.

  “I’m not saying I know who she is.” Colin fingered the lid of the box and slid it his way. “Are those what I think they are? Are they genuine?”

  “I bought it off a witch in Indonesia who had access to the last of the Papaver flavo plant before it was wiped from the planet by the Council. One will knock you out for twenty-four hours. You might wake up with a hangover, but it’ll keep you from getting shot or arrested for doing something stupid on the full moon night. There’s enough in there for two full moons.” The pills were black market. Rare. The Council eradicated them two decades ago since the last thing it wanted was a drug on the open market that could be hidden in food or drink and knock lycans out at random.

  “You gonna finish that?” Colin nodded at Roman’s pint.

  Roman shook his head.

  Colin put his hand over the box to hide it from view. “Damn shame to waste good brew.” Colin grabbed the glass and drained it. He scratched his hair under his tatty Sheffield Football Club cap. “There was a family from Scotland who dabbled in magical things. Both their daughters disappeared years ago.” He shut his eyes as if trying to remember. “They never contacted me, but I heard rumors from someone else because the girls’ parents were caught by the Council for using magic. I think they were executed and their children were never found.”

  “Give me a last name.”

  “Kinley.” Colin opened the box for one last look at the pills before thrusting it into his jacket pocket. “I also have an address.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nova bit into a chocolate cookie, its gooey center coating her tongue. She groaned in bliss. She rounded the street corner back to the flat where Roman had dropped her off over five hours ago. Since he obviously spent no time at the second floor two-room flat, she’d found little more than a single tin of old crackers and some ancient tea in the cabinets. Turned out she despised tea, especially the herbal green stuff she found. But she had discovered a wad of cash and a key to the front door in one of the drawers.

  Roman told her not to go outside until he returned, which she interpreted as more of a suggestion than an order. A few hours later, afraid her stomach was going to start digesting itself, she ventured out to find food. A half hour in the small store around the corner that sold essentials and she emerged with a slew of food to sample.

  A hand banded around her chest. Her grocery bag hit the ground. A large man—human based on the stench of sweat and recently consumed curry—pulled her tight to his thick chest. He plunged a needle into her thigh. She shrieked at its burn.

  On instinct, she threw her head back, connecting with her would-be abductor’s nose. Crack.

  He released. She whirled, swiped her bag off the ground and sprinted. Not leaving the food.

  The world blurred a few yards from the front door to the apartment building.

  No, no, no. Get inside.

  Her knees wobbled and hit the ground.

  …

  Darkness. Nova couldn’t move her hands or legs. A small plastic band locked her wrists together, a zip tie. A few solid tugs at the restraints did little more than dig the ties into her skin. Her prison jerked, the movement flinging her across the empty metal floor of what she assumed to be a small truck. The driver was partitioned away by windowless metal.

  Roman would be furious with her when he found out she’d been abducted. Hell, he’d be mad she left to begin with.

  The world teetered as she sat up, bracing herself against the side when the truck jerked again. Mr. Badass in the front seat may have expected her to be out another eight or more hours from the tranquilizer, but surprise surprise. Lycan metabolism must give her super drug-processing ability in addition to super healing. Guess this meant she believed Roman about her non-human status. And her abductor didn’t know what she was.

  She wiggled her hands against the ties. You have to shift.

  Shift? Freedom required she turn into whatever it meant to be lycan.

  If she didn’t do this, she’d die. Deep in her gut, she wanted to survive. She wanted to see Roman again. He still owed her a kiss to erase the icky feeling of Dom’s lips on hers. How screwed up was that?

  Shift. Now.

  Something wild rose to the forefront of her brain. Senses sharpened and muscles expanded. The muscles of her legs and arms felt larger, stronger. Her vision in the pitch dark became sharp, using the light from the few holes in the metal shell to see everything.

  She easily broke apart the tie around her wrists and the one around her ankles.

  A feel of her head informed her it was about the same size, but her teeth were longer. She wanted a mirror.

  More than that, she wanted revenge on Mr. Badass driver. Anger thrummed in her veins, more potent than when in human form. Lead by pure undiluted rage, she kicked open the back door as if it were plastic wrap. Bright light blinded her momentarily. It’d been midday when she’d been darted. The sun was low on the horizon. She scaled the roof of the truck to the passenger side without fear. After she gave it a yank, the door flew off its hinges and glided into the middle of the dark highway. In a flash, she slid into the passenger seat and punched the driver before he got a shot off from the Sig aimed at her head. She wrenched his arm upward. The shot pierced the roof. Its noise brutalized her sensitive ears.

  The car lurched as it bounced against the containment wall on a curve, throwing her off him. He shot again. She shifted position instantly, but the bullet grazed her left arm. She punched him again, this time harder. Kidnapper was no longer moving. The vehicle whirled out of control. She stared in horror out the windshield.

  This was going to hurt.

  The truck hit the concrete containment wall dead-on, throwing both her and the unsecured driver through the windshield, over the wall. She rolled down the steep embankment, bouncing off rocks and ping-ponging against trees until ending on a muddy shelf overlooking a wooded ravine.

  The vehicle sat wedged hundreds of feet above her between two trees. For endless moments, she watched it, expecting the trees to give and the truck to crash down on top of her. Nothing shifted.

  In the silent aftermath, her breaths echoed in her ears. Aches resonated from places she’d never considered could hurt. She gripped both sides of her pounding head and lowered her forehead to her knees as she felt herself transform back to her normal state.

  She should b
e dead. No one survived climbing the top of a moving vehicle and then going through a windshield down a cliff. Unless she wasn’t human. I’m not human.

  Blood came away on her hands when she touched her face. Her arm still bled where the bullet hit. A quick examination found an entry and exit wound through her biceps, not a graze as she’d thought but a direct through-and-through hit. Another bullet wound. Another lucky shot.

  This one hurt far worse when looking at the small holes oozing blood than it had moments ago. What hurt more was her index finger, which had turned a dark shade of purple red, likely broken or dislocated.

  Anger-driven revenge had been a bad option. Lesson learned.

  Jumping out of the back of the vehicle would’ve been the smart move, although she suspected the driver would’ve hunted her again. Round two would’ve been guaranteed to be more difficult for her to escape alive unless she had Roman on her side. Would he fight for her? She suspected he’d gone to meet the ones who gave him orders, not that he would say anything about where he headed.

  She cradled her head in her hands again as tears flowed. Broken and hurting, maybe this was her sign she should give up.

  Somehow, deep in her gut, she knew no one existed to miss her. No one waited for her. No one other than assassins searched for her.

  There was Roman, but she represented a burden he’d been saddled with. Some sort of ingrained species honor drove him to help her and watch over her. Sure, there might be a hint of attraction—okay, a shitload of chemistry—but he’d probably be relieved if she lay down and died right here or disappeared from his life.

  She stared up at the sky where a gray haze in the distance heralded an approaching storm. Given the freezing air, it’d be ice or snow.

  Why is this happening to me?

  The idea of a god listening reassured her. She whispered, “Where do I go? What’s the right choice?”

  Her arm tingled. She wiped mud off her wrist to expose the tattoo. Roman.

  Why was this inked into her skin? She touched the tattoo as if it might activate some long dormant memory. Nerves built up in her stomach, as if this time, something was going to happen. She squeezed her eyes shut, waiting.

  Nothing surfaced in her mind other than memories of him.

  I won’t give up. Even though I might fail, I won’t give in until I figure out who took my memory.

  “All right,” she said out loud, nodding. “Not yet.”

  Sirens sounded in the distance. Move.

  She managed a wobbly, painful stand using a spiky tree.

  “Well, shit.” Her jeans and sweatshirt were torn and bloody. Not only did she have no clue where she was, but she also needed new clothes. An onlooker would think she’d visited a war zone. Not exactly the best appearance when she wanted to avoid attention.

  Moving hurt. But she clawed her way up the incline before the emergency vehicles arrived, not easy with a damaged index finger. She rested at the top in the shadows of several trees with her hands on her knees, a few hundred yards from the accident site. A sprinkling of rain tickled her face. The flashing lights spiked her adrenaline and pushed her into motion. A fast, limping walk away from the crash scene was the best she could manage. A road sign advertised a fuel station about a half-mile away. Time to commit a few small crimes and steal some clothes.

  …

  Nova gripped Roman’s flat key tight in her fist as she entered the flat. If he wasn’t back, she could return it to the hallway table and pretend she hadn’t left. As if that wasn’t the stupidest plan ever. Explaining away her injuries…yep, idiotic idea.

  Silent darkness greeted her.

  A smart girl wouldn’t have returned. With no memory other than Roman, though, she didn’t have a clue where to run. She was stuck with the inhuman super spy whose name was tattooed on her wrist, despite the fact he didn’t want her around.

  As well, the cell phone, her lifeline to the only past she remembered, had remained in this room, since she hadn’t taken it to the corner store. She refused to leave without it. Perhaps, she could snag the phone and go. She flipped on the light.

  Someone stepped out of the dark bedroom like a lethal shadow.

  Chapter Ten

  On instinct Nova attacked, attempting to clock him in the face and kick his shin, but he dodged. He slammed her against the wall and ripped off the black headscarf she’d found in the back of her stolen car—oddly fortuitous find. Great way to mask the damage to her face, but didn’t hide the blood that had seeped through her stolen clothes.

  He caught her jaw, his fingers biting into her skin as he wrenched her head around.

  “Where have you been?” Roman snapped. Hostility radiated from him, a palpable force that seared her skin.

  Words wouldn’t come. Her thoughts froze.

  “What happened to you?” Hoarsely, he whispered, “Where were you?”

  She rasped out, “I went to get food. You were gone for hours and, in case you hadn’t noticed, there’s nothing here to eat. I hadn’t eaten in over a day, maybe longer.”

  “You were missing for six hours.” His voice came out a purr of soft menace, as if he distrusted everything about her. His big hand covered her jaw from ear to ear.

  “I went around the corner to the shop. On the way back, someone drugged me—stabbed me in the thigh with a needle—tied me up, and shoved me in the back of a truck.”

  His grip lessened until he stepped back, although didn’t release his hold on her while he examined the damage on her face. “What does the other guy look like?”

  “Dead.” Her hand drifted to her face before she realized. She crossed her arms, but pain ricocheted up the shot one. She tried to hide her wince as she uncrossed her arms but suspected he hadn’t missed it. “Being kidnapped apparently makes me go a little nuts. I changed into…whatever we are. It was…I didn’t know I could do the things I did.”

  His tone smoothed out and went almost melodic. “Are you telling me the truth?”

  “What’s up with the weird tone? Are you trying to use some sort of magical persuasion on me again?” She pushed at him to get free, but he didn’t let go. “That’s the second or third time you’ve tried to force me to answer a question.”

  He glared at her in the darkness. “Why should I believe you were kidnapped?”

  “I’m telling the truth. Why would I come back if I lied about this?”

  “I don’t know what’s truth anymore.” It came out soft, almost frustrated. Louder, he said, “I instructed you not to leave the flat. There were protective wards on the place.” His piercing blue eyes penetrated her as if he could look inside and read all her fears.

  “You didn’t say anything about protective wards,” she murmured. “I was hungry. But like a good dog, I came back.”

  “For all I know, you were out meeting someone.” He waved at her face. “And doing something you shouldn’t have been.”

  “Who would I meet? If I was doing something bad like you’re implying, why would I return looking like this? I don’t know who I am or what I am. I don’t, well didn’t, know I could change like that.” She threw up her arms. “If I knew anyone on this continent…hell, anyone on the planet other than you, that mage, and your irritating brother, I’d find them if for nothing other than to get away from you and all the accusations. I’d do just about anything for a decent meal and sleep.” She cradled her arm and rolled up the sleeve. “I’m sick of being shot.”

  “Did you learn anything before you killed this guy?”

  She blinked at him. And blinked again. “Excuse me for not taking time to interrogate him before he shot me and drove us off a cliff.” She stepped close to him and waved her hand in front of her face. “This is what it looks like when you go through a windshield and bounce down a cliff. But Mr. Kidnapper couldn’t pull the car over to finish our disagreement in a civilized manner. No. Th
e gun came out, and then the vehicle spun out of control.”

  Roman didn’t reveal an iota of emotion.

  “I should be dead. But I’m not human, am I?” She swiped a tear of frustration off her face. “Whatever I am makes me stronger, faster, and scary as hell when fighting. I changed, scaled the top of a moving truck, and fought a guy shooting a gun at me.” She ran her hand across her face to wipe away the tears. “I’m a mess. The mud in that ravine got in all the cracks, even my underwear. But the injuries are already almost gone, and somehow, I know all this will heal. Based on you being all pissy, I assume your meeting didn’t go well.”

  “It took an unanticipated turn.” His tone was odd as he continued to stare at her.

  “What exactly do you do that involves secrecy and the Crown?”

  “I can’t tell you.” Something about how he looked at her was different. Her skin tingled like it had before she’d shifted. Survival instinct flared.

  “Did they order you to…kill me?” It came out of her on a fatigued exhale. Her shoulders drooped.

  His face remained remote as if trying to wall off emotion. He neither confirmed nor denied, which might as well have been a screaming affirmative.

  “Shit.” She dropped her chin.

  He said nothing, so she looked up. He stared intently at her, making her almost shrink in place under the gaze of those thunderous eyes.

  “Is this when you tell me to leave again?” she asked.

  “Would you go?”

  “If they ordered you to kill me, wouldn’t you be forced to come after me? To hunt me down? So, what’s the point in me running unless you like the hunt?”

  He pushed his hand through his dark hair and stepped away from her. Frustration oozed from him. Seeing him start to lose some of his composure made him less threatening. He wasn’t the robot assassin. She wanted to run her fingers through his thick hair and down his scruff-roughened chiseled jawline to soothe him. Would her touch, if done in comfort, affect him the way she suspected his touch would destroy her?