Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  After Sebastian’s extreme outburst, I showered and grabbed some food, which I ate in the room. The further I distanced myself from Sebastian and Ethan’s rage, the better I felt. Dr. Baker was still working on Steven, so I hadn’t been able to see him again.

  The television was watching me as it had been for the past hour. I turned it off and went to the library; I found the VAMPIRE logs and looked for Emmanuel. Emmanuel, the person Michaela referred to as my creator. Creator—I hated that word. It implied that I was sired, and the very thought made me cringe. The implication that I was put in the same category as a vampire was unsettling.

  Scanning over information, I noticed that some of the pages had been recently updated, I assumed by Josh. Chris’s relationship with Demetrius was noted because he wasn’t known to trade with a human before. Josh had also placed a symbol by her name but I wasn’t sure what it meant. I assumed that it was because vampires were only known to trade with faes, witches and even demons to temporarily have use of their gifts; it was never a benefit to them to trade with a human so such an act was noteworthy. Or it could be because it was Ethan’s ex-lover.

  Emmanuel did indeed make it into the VAMPIRE logs. He was created by Michaela, who apparently found him amusing as well. Fascinated by the turmoil and havoc he caused as a human, she naturally was drawn to him, believing he would make a great addition to their family. Why not gift a raging psychopath with eternal life and superstrength? That’s rational thinking. With an extensive history of violence, alleged rapes and assaults as a human, he easily incorporated his poor life choices into his new life as a vampire. Like his creator, he had a sick perversion for feeding from children and pregnant women. He became a menace in the other world. Josh had made a notation of his role in my mother’s death, and he also referred to him as my creator.

  Putting aside the disgust, I was impressed that Josh had already figured out that it was Emmanuel who killed my mother. I was created by a vampire who was considered a psychopath even by vampire standards. Things just kept getting better. When Dr. Baker entered the room, I placed the binder on the bookshelf, grateful for the distraction. “Steven would like to see you.” His voice was soft and weary, showing all the signs of a long, hard night.

  I followed him back to the office. He had placed him in one of the recovery rooms. In the small space, the smell of blood and antiseptic lingered. Steven lay on the hospital bed with steri-strips across the wound on his abdomen and chest. For anyone else, an injury like that would have taken a massive number of stitches; but as a were-coyote, he was patched up with a few steri-strips, a good pack doctor and a very powerful Alpha.

  “Hey,” he greeted lethargically. His skin was still pale and his voice a hoarse whisper. When he attempted to smile, his lips barely curled.

  “Hey yourself. How are you?” I asked, pulling a chair up next to the bed.

  “I’m good,” he stated with a strained voice. “The real question here is how are you?”

  “I’m not the one with a gut wound.”

  “Yeah, but you had to have cracked a couple of ribs with all the sobbing and crying you were doing earlier,” he stated flippantly, this time successfully achieving a half-grin.

  “Excuse me.” The words barely came out through my clenched teeth as I glared at him.

  After seeing my response, he straightened, “It was a joke—bad joke. Sorry. I’m just not use to such … um … you know … ” he stopped abruptly, having difficulty finding the right words “ … overly human displays of emotions. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen tears from a were-animal. It’s just not our way,” he admitted with a frown.

  “If being unsympathetic and heartless is what you strive to be, then you can have it. I can’t watch someone nearly die and pretend like nothing happened.” I snapped as I stood up.

  “Steven, I thought you were going to die! I’m not sure how a were-animal should react in that situation, but I can’t watch someone almost die because of me and not become emotionally affected by it.” It was then that I realized I didn’t fit in anywhere. I wasn’t whole enough to be human, animal enough to be a were-animal, vamp enough to be a vampire.

  I exhaled. “I don’t belong in this world and I doubt I ever will. The deaths and violence are too much for me. The smell of blood makes me ill, the violence leaves a bad taste in my mouth and near-death experiences give me ongoing nightmares. Make fun of it if you like but it’s not going to change the way I am. And if you think it’s okay to be like that, then you are an ass,” I stated bitterly before I stormed out of the room.

  “Skylar, come back.” He called out after me.

  I paused, but decided to continue to my cell that was cloaked as a beautifully decorated room. I was too tired and frustrated to deal with an argument and I couldn’t yell at him anymore.

  “Please,” he added in a tense sigh.

  Wavering briefly before turning around, I walked back to the room. I leaned against the doorframe, my arms folded firmly across my chest. A large part of me didn’t want to leave him, but I couldn’t be around him if he was going to be a jerk. He had just knocked everyone further down the list while he held strong at first place.

  “I appreciate your concern. I really do. Being part of a pack for half of my life, I’ve grown accustomed to our way. All other things seem unfamiliar and odd to me. I can appreciate that you worry about me. It was inconsiderate of me to belittle your actions and trivialize your feelings, and for that, I am sorry,” he stated with as a reserved sincere smile.

  Wow, Joan had indeed trained him well. Equipped with her talents of diplomacy and grace, armed with a youthful angelic appearance and boyish charm, it was impossible not to forgive him for any of his wrongdoings. He could very well get away with anything and probably had.

  Returning to my chair next to him, “You know you should bottle that and sell it at the farmer’s market. You can call it ‘sugar coated compost,’” I acknowledged smiling.

  He laughed, and immediately winced, grabbing his stomach. “Still hurts … ”

  “Well, it happened just a couple of hours ago. A gut wound like that, even for you superfurries, is going to take time to heal.”

  “I know. I’ve never been injured this badly before,” he admitted in a low voice, putting a lot of effort in disguising his fear about his near-death experience.

  “Farmer’s market, huh? That’s what every were-animal wants to hear. I sound really hard-core, a menace for all to fear,” he stated jokingly, holding his stomach.

  I laughed. “I assure you—you are quite scary.”

  “I met Michaela today,” I informed him, breaking the edge of silence between us.

  His mouth twisted. “Well, you’re here; so, I assume the meeting didn’t go well for her.”

  “Did you know she likes to feed from children?”

  He nodded with a partial frown.

  “She found me amusing and wished she could keep me as a pet.”

  “That’s not unusual. Gabriella and Chase are similarly amused with Winter and had the misfortune of expressing it on several occasions. They even asked if she would consider joining them in their bed,” he scowled. “That was a bad day for them. One of his tattoos is covering a scar she gave him as a result of that lewd proposal.” Well, that explained why she hated the terrible duo so much.

  “Aside from the fact she wants to murder me so she can go around feeding from children, she seems like a big bowl of crazy,” I acknowledged.

  He chuckled. “Demetrius likes his women to be eccentric with a certain level of passion,” he stated.

  “You realize eccentric and crazy aren’t synonymous.”

  “For them, it seems like a very fine line. From what I hear, she is actually more palatable compared to his former mistress. She was touched in the head and tapped danced on the line between sanity and crazy every inch of the way. Apparently, she was quite the menace.” That very thought was sickening. His last mistress was worse than Michaela? How in the hel
l was that possible? Michaela enjoyed feeding from children and was responsible for a significant number of the vampires found in the VAMPIRE logs. She saw perverted and potentially psychopathic behavior as an opportunity to populate their seethe. I leaned forward and lay my head on the bed next to his leg, “If I never see another vampire in my life, it will be too soon,” I stated with an exasperated sigh.

  Patting me on the head, “You’re not a very good wolf,” he stated. “The challenge should be exhilarating.”

  “What about me ever gave you the impression I was a good werewolf? I am probably the worst ever created,” I whispered into the side of the bed.

  He chuckled. “Worst … that’s a stretch. You’re just not a very good wolf, but I assure you, I’ve met worse,” he stated lazily. His eyes were starting to droop. He was getting tired, and so was I. “Sleep,” I insisted. He didn’t require much urging. Once his eyes closed, he drifted off into a deep sleep.

  I fell asleep in the chair leaning forward on his bed moments after he had. He still slept in coyote form in my room and I had become accustomed to being near him. His deep raspy breathing had become rather soothing.

  When Dr. Baker woke me up and suggested I go to my room, I declined. He looked at Steven, who had fallen asleep with a couple of strands of my hair interlaced through his fingers. Then his gaze shifted to my hand, which was placed haphazardly on his legs. He gave me a disapproving look. “His wounds need to heal; so, it’s best if he doesn’t overexert himself,” he commented, stepping toward the door. “You two will have to behave the next couple of days,” he stated sternly.

  I stared after him incredulously. Was he serious with this? Ew! Was any display of concern automatically an assumption of a sexual relationship in this house? If I weren’t half-asleep, I would have responded with something clever, but in this state, it would have just come out bitchy.. I changed from my position, moving further from Steven, feeling dirtied by Dr. Baker’s insinuation.

  CHAPTER 12

  “I need help,” I admitted to Winter’s back.

  She grunted, “You need help. What else is new?” she responded snidely.

  I ignored her jibe. I didn’t need her friendship, just her help. “Show me how to fight,” I blurted. She continued to hit and kick the punching bag as though she hadn’t heard me. With the same aggressive gracefulness she held during the ambush, she spun to kick the bag and face me with an unwelcoming sneer.

  Steven seemed to have healed just fine, but Dr. Baker still had him on bed rest, which just brought out his antagonistic tendencies. After attempting to leave the room several times, Dr. Baker threatened him with sedation or the cage; he eventually stayed put. So my first choice wasn’t available. Winter was a better choice, though not necessarily the wisest. Winter, a serpent and a lesser species, maintained her position as third amongst those who possessed strength superior to hers. Whatever skills she had that gave her that edge, I wanted. The next time I encountered a vampire, I hoped they regretted the experience.

  There was a look of utter contempt. Then she smirked and asked, “You trust me to do this?” She slinked around me quickly in a taunting manner, inevitably making me regret my request.

  “Yes,” I mumbled, watching her carefully; but I wasn’t confident with my choice, and she sensed it.

  She made a harsh abrupt sound, which I’m sure was supposed to be a laugh. She began to walk away. I waited for her to tell me to go to hell in the only way she knew how—cruelly. “I need to learn how to protect myself,” I uttered loudly before she reached the door.

  She noticeably tensed before she stopped at the door. “I am a snake. I am faster and more agile; that is my advantage,” she stated conversationally as she went into a series of flips that landed her directly in front of me. Her palm pushed into my chest so hard that I forcibly exhaled as I hit the ground.

  Standing over me, her eyes changed between human and snake in a disturbing sequence. “You are a wolf: strong, instinctive and aggressive. That is your advantage,” she continued as she extended her hand to assist me up. Once up, she flipped me to the ground using a hip toss. She circled me, taking slow measured predacious steps. I had a hard time convincing myself that she wouldn’t kill me.

  Her voice lowered into harsh hiss, “You are so much trouble,” she declared hatefully. “Protecting you is an unnecessary chore. We have died for you, faced injury for you, and still Sebastian tries to protect you. You don’t deserve our help,” she continued as she hovered over me, her face inches from mine.

  “You have the opportunity to make it easier. Do something about it instead of standing over me blaring hateful words,” I stated in a level voice.

  She scurried behind me, her arm fixed around my neck and her legs wrapped around my torso. “Are you afraid?” she inquired harshly next to my ear.

  I was too stubborn to admit that I was.

  “I could kill you right now. Simply choke the life from you and end it all right now. Do you think Sebastian would care? I could give him any trite excuse, and he would accept it without question. He doesn’t want you here anymore than I do, but he is committed to our laws more than I am. I doubt he would even be angry with me," she hissed in a low voice.

  My breathing became erratic as my heart pounded. I tugged at her arm but it didn’t budge. “Sebastian would punish me harshly to keep up appearances, but he wouldn’t kill me over you," she crooned self-assuredly.

  The pressure around my neck increased, making it difficult to pay attention to her rambling. I tugged at her hands but it was pointless; she had me at a positional advantage. The salty beads of sweat tasted bitter as I twisted and turned trying to free myself from her hold.

  “Are you afraid that this could be the end?” she asked. My struggle intensified. All I wanted to do was release myself from her and get the hell away. “The more you struggle, the firmer the hold becomes and the harder it will be to breathe. If you die from this, then it will be your own fault. I remain blameless. Now answer me. Are you afraid?” She demanded through clenched teeth.

  I hesitated before slowly nodding my head. “Good,” as quickly as she achieved the position, she abandoned it. “Fear always works as a good motivator. And you if you are pissed off with me, that’ll help too. Come, let’s make you a decent fighter,” she said in her horrifying Jekyll and Hyde reversal of personality. She smiled as she offered her hand to help me up. I looked at it as though it were poisonous to the touch. Ignoring it, I pushed myself up. Psychotic bitch.

  Winter was trained in several types of martial arts: Bando Taing, which contributed to her knife and sword skills; Aikido; and Ju Jitsu, the holds of which she said would help disable larger opponents. She kick boxed, which was her favorite because of its total ‘brutality’. And, of course, she was trained in the more traditional martial arts of Karate and Tae Kwon Do.

  While others were on the playground developing social skills that allowed them to interact well with others, Winter was in a gym, kicking someone’s ass. Now, dealing with her as an adult, it was quite apparent she should have been on the playground learning social skills.

  Winter made no secret that she was only helping me because my protection should be my responsibility alone. She approached training me in the manner she seemed to approach most things—intensely, aggressively and with intent. Her only request was that when we sparred, I treated it as though I were fighting for my life. Unfortunately, for the eight hours a day we practiced, I felt like I was. Fighting with all I had still didn’t seem like enough. My kicks weren’t quick enough, my strikes clumsy, my holds just firm hugs and my punches laughable. “Your only goal is to bring me down. No love taps—save your girl crush for a better time!” Her shrill voice haunted me even in my sleep.

  Practicing daily served as a good distraction for both of us. The vampires seemed to have abandoned any ideas of more attacks or they were taking time to prepare for another, more elaborate, one. Josh hadn’t returned since the attack and I was starting to worr
y. I had read everything in the library that was relevant to me and couldn’t look at another page.

  “Why are you on the ground? Get up! You are not adapting. You know my moves. Use your instincts. Within minutes, if not seconds, you need to adapt; anticipate what they are going to do. I am just asking you to take the few things I have shown you and apply them. How hard is that? You can’t be this pitiful!” she finally said on the sixth day of us working together. As I lay on the ground, I reluctantly met her deep penetrating glare.

  Disgusted, she frowned, turning her attention toward the door. “Perhaps you are," she ground out. Then she walked out.

  I waited for fifteen minutes for her to return, but she never did. That day I practiced for three hours alone and beat the hell out of my make-believe opponent who didn’t happen to be a meticulously trained snake that moved like lightning and hit like a sledgehammer.

  On the ninth day, I lay on my back with the familiar taste of blood in my mouth, metallic and bitter. I had been in this position so much that I had learned to accept it. “Get up,” she commanded standing over me. I was slow to respond, having a hard time trying to find the motivation to continue. Winter was still dominating me with what she considered basic techniques that even “a child could defend themselves from.”

  I contemplated giving up. Beginners luck had run out days before and the intensity of our sparring increased. I hadn’t adapted and there wasn’t anything instinctual about my responses. It’s not as though she dealt with me cautiously in the beginning but now she treated me like I was a skilled fighter without any excuses for my defeat. The problem was—I wasn’t.