Bad Moon Rising (The Crown's Wolves)

by Zoe Forward

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “You’re saying none of what we feel is real? We just want to bone so hard it hurts because of the moon phase? Roman, tell me it’s more. That’s just…disappointing.”

  The way she said his name sent chills down his spine. “I take a serum to suppress it.”

  Her eyebrows popped upward. “Well, it’s not working well for you.”

  “What happened in my flat was nothing compared to moon madness.”

  “You just blamed it on moon madness. Now you’re not blaming it on the moon? Admit there’s something here that’s real. Do we feel like this because we’re the same species? Do all of us just want to have sex all the time with each other?”

  Dying again. Softly, he said, “I’ve never spent much time with someone like you, so I’m not sure.”

  “You admit there’s something between us, something more than an order from your king.”

  “I didn’t say that. He’s also not my king.”

  “Sure sounded like you did.” She was all geared up to fight, but with her flushed cheeks, she wanted him to kiss her and push this until they were naked. Oh man, did he want that, too.

  Nope. Control.

  He shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest, more to keep himself from reaching for her than being upset.

  Her lips snapped shut, but she seemed to struggle against smiling.

  “Uh-huh.” She burst out laughing. “You like me. You want to kiss me. And…” She waggled her eyebrows and glanced at the back seat meaningfully.

  He double blinked.

  Who was this sassy girl? This wasn’t the exhausted confused person from yesterday.

  That image she just planted tortured his mind.

  She laughed again.

  Too close. No room in this car. Stifled.

  Sweat trickled down his back, tickling his spine.

  He needed fresh air. Anything to clear his head and get away from the temptation of both of them in the back seat.

  “Stay here,” he ordered as he hopped out to inspect the gate. The compulsion to leave the area pushed strong. Of course, any home belonging to magicals would have wards. Removing from his pocket the small metal Domitianus coin, a relic from Roman Empire endowed by a seventeenth-century witch that could show the nature of a cast spell. He held it up and looked through the hole rounded into its center.

  “What are we doing here?” she asked behind him. “You doing that is beyond bizarre. Why’re you staring through what looks like a really old coin at a shabby gate?”

  He glowered at her. “I said stay in the car. It’s not safe out here.”

  “Why? Are there dangerous spirits that’ll jump out of the fields to slice my throat?” She marched right up to him, not the least intimidated. “The attitude is cute, but it’s not getting that gate open.” She waved her hands at him. “Open it and then we can drive up to the house. Hope they don’t have an attack dog. There is that humongous Danger. Keep Out. sign right there.” She pointed to the right.

  “I highly doubt anyone’s at home. I don’t smell dogs. Do you? We can’t get through this without removing the protective spells.”

  “The coin helps?” She trailed off as she stared at the wooden fence. “I feel cold and… Why do I want to leave? Whatever this is really doesn’t want us here. Well, tough. If this is the key to my past, then it can shove it.”

  Boldly, she touched the gate.

  “No,” he ordered. “Back away.”

  She rattled it hard, but it didn’t open. “I don’t— Oh, no.” Gripping her head, she dropped to her knees with a moan.

  Roman lunged forward, careful not to move too close to the gate, and tugged her a few feet backward. “You okay?”

  After a few more seconds, she removed her hands from her face. “Well, it didn’t make me miraculously remember. Just hurt. Like a bad headache.”

  “Maybe you should stay in the car.” Like I told you.

  She cocked her head and stared at the gate for a moment before managing to get herself upright without help. Obviously, she was still shaken by the protective ward on the gate. “What happens to you once we get the gate open and go through? What happens when we face what’s up the road at the house?”

  He didn’t like the possible answers to her question. Worst-case scenarios pinged around inside his head.

  She put her hands on her hips. “What if the people living here are my family and they’re home?” She stared at him as if trying to gauge his expression, which he worked hard to keep stoic. “Are you going to drop me off and go find some hole to hide in until the curse kills you?”

  He’d considered this.

  It was the worst-case scenario.

  She asked, “Had it occurred to you whoever wiped my memory wanted this? Wanted us right here, right now. That whoever it is wants you to wipe me out? Or maybe the plan is to end up with you dead?”

  “I’ve considered many angles on this. I swear on my soul what I said before holds.” He gritted his teeth against the renewed agony the curse sent through his body, not just limited to his arm and chest this time.

  “Damn it. It’s hurting you again.”

  Burning pulsations surged up the nerves of his arm the longer they stood here. Shaking consumed his entire upper body as he fought against the intensity of the agony.

  She stepped into him, her body pressed against his while muttering words he couldn’t hear over the escalating pain.

  He cradled his numb arm. I can’t do it. Won’t do it. His body lit up like someone set him on fire.

  And then it all abated like the tide on a beach going out with a slow ebb.

  Nova stood back. She chewed on her lip and stared at him for endless moments. “Better?”

  Yes. It was. The agony had receded to a faint electric feeling across his skin. He nodded. “Thanks.”

  She took a step toward the gate and wavered. He caught her.

  “I’m good. That took a bit out of me. I want to know what’s on the other side of the gate. My gut is telling me something about this gate, but I’m not sure what.” She touched the post that held the gate’s hinges. “There’s writing there. It says: Who comes so late to Candle Gate?”

  He listened to her repeat the phrase over and over while he looked at the complex spells through the coin again. Lace-like patterns of light wove around the gate and the trees immediately surrounding them. These were intricate. He needed a witch or mage to undo these. Slim chance Dom would do a house call. As well, no way he’d pay Dom’s price. Maybe for Nova… Dom might make an exception, not that he had a way to contact him out here in the middle of nowhere. They’d have to drive back to town, which was thirty minutes, and use a payphone.

  “I know this from somewhere. Like a song. I remember songs, which is so bizarre.” She rubbed her forehead, muttering the phrase a few times and then singing them. “Hurts…but I can almost remember. It’s right there.” She groaned and fell to her knees gripping her head. “Remember. Come on. Don’t let me down.”

  She held up a hand when he stepped close. A brisk breeze whipped around them, worming its icy bite through clothing. She shivered. Then her whole body progressed to shaking. “I can do this. It’s…it’s right there.”

  “We’ll find another way in. Maybe we can approach by water.” He couldn’t see the house from here to gauge how far it was from the nearby bay. The driveway looked to go on for a while and wound into hills.

  For long minutes, she sang the Candle Gate phrase on rapid repeat while her entire body trembled. Suddenly, she stopped and stood. In a clear tone, she sang, “Who comes so late to Candle Gate? Who comes so late, by raining bent and roaring spate? Who knocks so late at Candle Gate? Who knocks so low, yet will not wait?”

  She collapsed to a sit.

  When he bent to check on her, the gat
e unclicked and swung open on its own with an eerie squeak.

  He moved forward to step through the gate.

  “Stop!” she ordered reaching for his leg but missing. “That’s not all.” She looked at the fence and sang, “Who rides in state from Candle Gate? Who rides in state, by rainy bent and roaring spate? Who rides so slow, yet will not wait? Nor bide at all for love or hate?”

  Roman held up his coin. All the wards were gone. “You did it. Spell is gone.”

  In silence, they stared at each other.

  “Guess I’ve been here before. I’m a little freaked out,” she whispered. Questions about her pretending amnesia resurfaced, but the frank shock on her face seemed too genuine to be faked. “Who is supposed to live here? Who are these people that they’d put some sort of magical lock on this gate?”

  “This estate is owned by an old lycan family by the surname Kinley. They practiced some sort of magic. All I could find out is that both parents were executed by the Council for practicing magic, and their daughters disappeared many years ago.”

  She moistened her lips and swallowed several times. She stared up the drive. “You think?” She cleared her throat. “You think they might be my family? That I’m one of the girls or their mother, if she managed to escape?”

  He hadn’t considered she could be the girls’ mother. That meant there might be a male out there with a legitimate claim to her. His mind rejected the notion.

  She stumbled to the car door and wretched it open to slide into the passenger seat. “To the house we go.”

  …

  The dirt road screamed to be repaired. Its pothole-rich, washboard pattern rattled her teeth as he drove. It wound for over a quarter mile up a hilly, mostly woodland area until arriving at a circular drive in front of a horseshoe-shaped house constructed of classic harled white stone.

  After he parked, he ordered, “Wait.”

  He held up the coin again. Then he did something with a crystal on a chain that came from one of his pockets. “It’s clear of more spells, at least ones that are detectable. Watch out for other things.”

  “Other things?”

  “Who knows what people like this use to guard their property? Gnomes, fairies, or maybe a nasty goblin.”

  “Those are real?”

  “Yes. Let’s pray it’s not a goblin.”

  Together, they walked up the stone path, which was overgrown with weeds. He knocked. She was tempted to move closer to him.

  No answer.

  He knocked again.

  She fidgeted. “No one’s home.”

  “Seems that way.” He tried the knob without success, then scooted to the window beside the door, cupped his hands around his eyes and looked inside. “No movement. I don’t hear or smell anyone, not that it means much when dealing with magic.”

  She touched the front doorknob. It turned. “Not locked.”

  “I just tried it.” His lips compressed into a thin line. “The house likes you.”

  “Maybe you didn’t try hard enough.”

  “Maybe.” Skepticism tinged the word.

  The air inside smelled stale.

  “Stay,” he commanded as he marched through several rooms. When he returned to the entryway, he announced, “No food in the pantry or refrigerator. House isn’t occupied and hasn’t been for a long time.”

  Something about the place comforted her, as if she felt safe here.

  He stiffened and froze. His eyes darted around, but he didn’t move a muscle. In a hushed voice, he said, “It’s alive.”

  “What is?”

  “The house. It is its own entity. You hear the air moving through the upper floors?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not getting a bad feeling. Maybe it’s haunted?”

  “Ghosts have a different presence. This is the entire place. It’s almost breathing.”

  “I’m going to do a cursory walk around and see if anything jogs a memory.” She abandoned him in the foyer.

  The kitchen was quaint, but serviceable. All furniture looked dated, as in circa 1800s. As she walked into a main dining room the chandelier quivered. She jolted backward, smacking into Roman, who wrapped his arms around her.

  Sweet. Really sweet. It also confirmed she’d made the right choice to trust him.

  The chandelier rocked back and forth, rattled, and something fell out onto the table. Wind whistled through the room, and then all movement stopped.

  He still hadn’t let go of her. She stared up at him.

  He said, “I’d like to get out of here before we get on the house’s bad side. I think it wants you to have whatever fell on the table.”

  She swallowed hard. “Looks like a car key.”

  The key was plain silver with no symbol.

  He took the keychain and rotated it to view the small insignia that looked like a sideways L, or like an open duck beak. “That’s a Valliante symbol. It’s a Spanish car company that makes exclusive super cars and nothing else.” He lit up with almost giddy excitement. “Please, let there be one in the garage.”

  “And the key?”

  He shrugged a no-idea.

  An exhaustive search of the modified barn found no vehicles, and there were no other buildings on the property.

  “Maybe it’s a clue. Where in Spain do they make this car?”

  “Barcelona.”

  A chill spread from her neck outward through her shoulders. “If this is my family’s house, why would they leave this?”

  “Maybe you left it.” He passed his thumb over the keychain insignia.

  “Guess I’m going to Barcelona.”

  “I’ll take you, but first we stop in Italy tomorrow night. Right now, we’re going to eat and sleep for a bit somewhere safe.” He held up his hands. “Sleep separately.” He rubbed his forehead as he led back to the car.

  “Italy?” she prompted.

  His jaw hardened, and he pressed his lips together. “Dinner with my mother. It’s mandatory on full moon nights.” At her questioning look, he said, “It’s so we don’t go sex crazy and end up doing something stupid. She makes sure if suppression serum fails that we’re locked up or drugged up until the sun rises, and the threat is over.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A poke to her forehead woke Nova.

  “Wakey, wakey.”

  She squinted up at the finger hovering over her face for an instant before survival instinct kicked her into high drive. She sprang forward to attack the man standing above her. Her head throbbed with the rapid movement, but her drive to protect herself superseded pain. No weapon handy. That left her with a direct attack.

  After a solid hand-to-chin thrust, she threw her body at the man to catch him by surprise and knock him off balance. He grunted but didn’t fall over. He also didn’t back up. He tried to say something, but she kicked to land a foot into his stomach. However, he turned such that she caught his side. When she managed to get to her knees, he caught her arms and locked them together behind her back, then threw himself on top of her. Outweighed and trapped, she stilled, her head finally clearing from sleep.

  “It’s Roman. Do you remember who I am?” he asked. “Roman. The one whose name is on your wrist.”

  Shit.

  She’d attacked. Roman. Bad move.

  “Get off me.” Can’t breathe. She sucked to draw in air, but the miniscule amount of oxygen tugged inward wasn’t enough.

  He didn’t budge. “Tell me you haven’t done a rewind and lost your memory.”

  “You surprised me.” She wiggled for some breathing space, which he didn’t give.

  “Prove to me you remember who I am and who you are.” His face was so close to hers, she could feel the heat of each breath that came out of him.

  “Excuse me for having some PTSD from being abducted.” She sucked in her ch
eeks and glared. “I overreacted. I’m sorry, but you surprised me.”

  He blinked. “Did you think I would kill you in your sleep?”

  Now he was pissed because his honor was offended.

  She shook her head. “No. You promised. I believe you.”

  “Helping you figure out who the hell you are is a real pain in the ass.” His gaze dipped to her lips, which were in line with his. His eyes went opaque, glazed. She sensed a desperation in him.

  Her breath caught, and her pulse pounded in her ears. When he made no move, she said, “If you’re not taking us to that level, get off me. I can’t handle getting hot and worked up with no relief in sight.”

  “Are you going to try to attack me again?”

  “You poked me in the face.”

  “Worked to wake you up.” A smile tilted up his mouth, which transformed him. It made him devastatingly handsome and almost playful. If she weren’t careful, she’d fall for him like this. “Note to self: Nova isn’t a morning person.”

  “What’s so funny?” she asked, entirely unsure what the smile meant other than it was distracting. He didn’t have to be so good-looking or sexy. And he didn’t have to have that look on his face, the one that said he was a predator who’d be delighted to eat her. In a good way. The way that would have her screaming pleasure.

  “You.”

  “What about me?”

  He pushed up and off her. His clean-shaven face and fresh-looking dark T-shirt made his eyes look an even more brilliant blue. “Few people catch me by surprise, but you? I have no clue what to expect next. You chin jabbed me. I mean, damn.”

  “Didn’t do a good enough job. If you were actually a contract killer, I’d be dead. Because my jab sucked. I need to work on my attack strategy.”

  “If I were an assassin, you’d be dead. I wouldn’t wake you up. I’d kill you while asleep. It’s easier.”

  “Valid point unless you like your victim to struggle.” She sighed and rubbed her eyes. “Why do you think that contact killer didn’t outright kill me? Bugs the hell out of me. Makes no sense.”

  Everything about him stilled. He dragged both hands over his face. “There’s something bigger than us going on. Someone wiped your memories before they sent you to me, which means whatever was in there must have been so important it had to disappear. Why didn’t they put a bullet in your brain? Why keep you alive? This whole thing is a mystery mind-fuck that’s making me nuts.”