Blazing Moon: An Adult Urban Fantasy (The Tynder Crown Chronicles Book 2)

by Wendy Owens

  I shrug before placing my hands on my hips with an irritated sigh. “Well, except for the fact that I would like to go change out of these wet clothes.”

  “How did your clothes get wet?”

  If I could shoot laser beams from my eyes, I am pretty sure Nash would be on fire right now. “Excuse me, Dad?” I hiss. “I was standing outside when it was raining and got wet. Is that okay with you?”

  He looks down at the ground, collecting himself, his lips pressed together tightly. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Are we done?”

  “Tynder, you have to be careful,” he starts.

  “Don’t!” I warn, lifting a single finger into the air. “I am an adult, and I will do whatever it is I damn well, please. Unless you have a valid reason I shouldn’t be out all night with a man.” I think I intended the words to cut him, but when they are out of my mouth, I realize they’ve come out more like a question.

  “What are you saying?” he whispers.

  I’m dizzy. I’ll be all right if I can just get away from all of these men and their insane testosterone. “I need a shower,” I answer in a soft tone, pushing my way past his firm torso.

  He grabs my wrists as I try to walk away. I’m too scared to meet his probing gaze. “I care about you.”

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you want it to mean?”

  My breath is stuck in my throat, threatening to suffocate me. The draw to Nash has been there from the moment I met him. All the more reason to stay as far away from him as I can. My mother loved a man, and he abandoned her. Love is a fool’s path, and Joe didn’t raise a fool. At least I didn’t think he did.

  “I want you to get your head in the game,” I answer him pointedly. “We are about to head into a den of the wolves, and you’re talking this nonsense. There’s nothing here Nash; there never will be.”

  He takes a step back, and I look up just in time to see the hurt in his wet eyes. I don’t mean the words, despite wanting to, but he doesn't know that. He swallows hard. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I was out of line.”

  The lights flicker before cutting out completely. Damn it, the power outages are getting more frequent, I think to myself.

  I don’t say anything else. I move straight into the apartment and take a warm shower. I’m worried if I did say anything more, I would end up asking Nash to kiss me as well. I’d had quite enough strange man kisses for one day. I don’t know what the hell has gotten into me, but a little water and some fresh clothes would give me a whole new perspective.

  Eleven

  Coffee, Stat

  Walking through the living area after my shower, I notice it’s empty. I sigh in relief at dodging a confrontation with Nash.

  “I don’t even know what to say,” Nash’s voice causes me to nearly jump in the air as I step inside the office.

  I slam the door behind me in frustration. “How about you’re going to go get yourself some much-needed therapy because something is seriously wrong with you.”

  “With me?” he snaps.

  On any other day, I might have felt embarrassed rolling in looking like a classic walk of shame in last night’s dress and wet hair matted against my face, but not today. I’m not going to let him slut shame me when there was no slutting to be ashamed about.

  “Yes with you! Who in the hell hides out in the shadows ready to scare a person as soon as they walk in the door. You’re lucky I didn’t light your ass on fire with my laser vision.”

  “You don’t have laser vision,” he reminds me.

  “Lucky for you because you’d be smoking right now!” I move in the direction of the apartment before pausing and looking back at him with a puzzled look on my face. “Why are you here?”

  “Lycan killer running around, ring any bells?” he says sarcastically.

  Fighting the urge to scream at him like a petulant child, I turn my back to him and rush through the door to my apartment. As I cross the living room I pause, waiting to see if he has the nerve to follow me, he doesn’t.

  I open my bedroom door, shove it closed behind me and collapse onto the bed fully dressed. Even thirty minutes of sleep will go a long way to help me prepare myself for the task ahead of me.

  “Tynder, I’m coming,” the familiar stranger’s voice stirs me. Startled, I sit upright, my head jerking around the room. I’m alone. I sigh and move over to the dresser, searching for a set of fresh clothes.

  The stranger from my dreams has haunted me longer than I can remember. When I see him in my dreams, I struggle to see his face, but I never can quite seem to get the angle right. I told Desmond once about the dreams, and he dismissed it as a sign I eat too much junk food before bed, and I should probably change my eating habits. I likely would have accepted that theory accept when I mentioned to Des that I planned to talk to Joe about it he became very agitated and made me promise not to bother him with such things. I can’t help thinking now that Des knew something more about my mystery man from dream world and didn’t want to tell me. I suppose it’s just one more question I have for Des that will go unanswered now.

  I slip into jeans and a black t-shirt before pulling my hair up into a fresh tight ponytail. I open the door to my bedroom and head toward the bathroom, only to find Piper standing directly in my path, nursing a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Oh, my God. That smells amazing,” I moan.

  “I’ll dispense you one,” she replies, setting her cup on the counter and moving to the drinkit3000. I need to get that thing traded in for a new model. Last time I tried to get a cup of coffee, it delivered me a hot tea. Tea has always tasted like dirty water to me, so this is not a mistake I can forgive the machine quickly for. Luckily, Piper has mastered the defective machine.

  A moment later, she hands me a steaming mug. Her eyes are fixed on me.

  “Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask even though I already know the answer.

  “Seriously?”

  I shake my head. “Get your mind out of the gutter, dirty-bird. Nothing happened.”

  “Nothing?” she grins at me before hiding her mouth behind her mug.

  “Okay,” I snort because Piper knows me too well. “Maybe not nothing.”

  “Spill it,” she presses, bouncing in place.

  “Since when do you like to hear about this stuff?”

  “Are you kidding me? I am a witch who has zero social life. Yes, I hate that you went without me, and yes, I think it was a stupid and unsafe idea, but it’s done. The least you could do now is share all the juicy details,” she says leading me by the wrist to the couch.

  As I sit there and retell the very unexciting details of the evening, I realize that the idea of a female friend isn’t so bad. I’d never had anyone I was even remotely interested in sharing these types of exchanges with. Now, it was actually kind of fun, but I wouldn’t admit it, even under threat of a firing squad.

  “So are you going to see him again?” she asks me pointedly.

  I shrug and look into my mug for answers. “I don’t know, it’s not like I have time for a social life, ya know?”

  “We should go,” I hear Nash from the doorway by the office area of the apartment. I wonder how much he heard. I can’t decide if I’m angry he was listening or worried that my relationship with Trunkwater might upset him. I can’t figure out why I would even care.

  “He’s right!” Piper exclaims. “It’s still early, but Grimlore house will be opening soon for the day. We have to get Peter out of there as soon as we possibly can. Who knows what they’ve done to him by now.”

  “You can’t think like that,” I remind her. “He’s going to be all right.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she sighs, her voice quivering as she spoke.

  I nod, attempting to reassure her and we all scatter without another word, getting ready for something we’re likely not ready for. I’m not a warrior, and I’m certain I’m not prepared to fight an Alpha. Our only hope is t
hat we get in undetected, grab Peter, and get the hell out of there.

  Twelve

  Call Me Unorthodox

  Piper pulls out her wand and begins to work her magic, making me look like a Lycan.

  “It wouldn’t be a Tynder plan if it gave you the warm and fuzzies.” She mutters anxiously.

  “I’ll be fine!” I exclaim.

  The illusion spell is complete. I look down at my hands and chuff. “I’m impressed.”

  I can feel Nash’s eyes fixed on me as they have been since we transported to the woods near Grimlore house, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of letting him know I can sense his attention, or that I would even care.

  “I don’t know about this,” he sounds annoyed, but also a little bit stressed.

  “I said I’ll be fine— probably. I promise,” I reassure him, wondering if he’s thinking about the mission or me with Trunkwater. Does this guy even get jealous? What is there to be jealous of? It’s not like Nash and I have anything—

  He grabs me, this time pulling me close. “Joe wouldn’t want me to let anything happen to you. You have to be careful, okay?”

  The mention of my grandfather’s name makes me uncomfortable. “Of course, aren’t I always?”

  “Somehow I’m pretty sure we both know the answer to that is no,” Nash is quick to reply. It makes me a little angry, even if he’s right.

  “Fine, then this time I’ll be careful,” I answer.

  Piper sighs a heavy breath. “All right already! She’ll be careful; we’ll all be careful. Great, we’ve all got the plan.”

  “Okay, that’s my cue,” I awkwardly laugh.

  “Wait, no we don’t all have the plan,” Piper corrects herself in a nervous voice. “What are we supposed to say to Lord Ardack?”

  “I don’t know, tell him you’re on official business from your Royal Magistrate. You’re a Bimtok and a Crim, I’m sure you can come up with something.”

  “Yeah, so just so you’re aware something like that never happens. I doubt it will be remotely believable.” Nash argues.

  “Well, I’m known to be very unorthodox … use that,” I reply.

  “He’ll want to know why you’re not there,” Piper insists.

  “Tell him I’m following up on a lead … I don’t know … something. I’m sure you can come up with a story that sounds believable enough,” I say, turning and emerging from the tree line, walking toward Grimlore House at the top of the hill.

  “But—” Piper calls out.

  “Figure it out!” I whisper yell.

  “Yup, we’re all going to die,” Piper groans.

  They scurry after and follow me to the top of the hill. “Piper, quit being so negative and get in there to create a distraction for me,” I command.

  I can still feel Nash staring at me; my face flushes red. I can’t take it anymore. “What?”

  He smirks, shaking his head to break his stare and look at the ground.

  “Is something funny?” I growl.

  He now has a full on smile peeling across his face. “It’s nothing—it’s just that you make a pretty damn hot wolf.”

  “Shut up, and get your ass in there.” I wave off his compliment, though I hate to admit, my insides are quivering from his comment. Why is it always the brooding jerks that get a rise out of me?

  “I think I’m going to vomit,” Piper mutters as she walks toward the entrance of the Grimlore House. Nash stashes his sword in some nearby bushes, not wanting to bring any more attention than necessary to our group. He then looks over his shoulder one last time before he and Piper enter the building. My senses are all on edge, something I am still not used to a month after my transformation into a Phoenix began. I’ve been changing so much over the last month I can't help wondering when it will end. When will I have all of my capabilities and will I even recognize myself.

  Maybe Nash is right; maybe I do need training. Some self-defense classes are not the same as figuring out how to protect me against certain Fae. What good does knowing how to land a knee in a guy’s crotch when I’m up against a wolf? Why am I so damn stubborn about letting Nash teach me?

  I’ll be the first to admit; there’s an undeniable chemistry between Nash and me—a spark that ignites the moment we’re in the room together. But I’m part of this world so I can find Joe’s killer, not make a love connection. A month into the Fae world, and I already have two bachelor's clouding my focus. I can’t afford all these distractions.

  Minutes pass without any significant disturbance. They must have gotten in all right … I stay low to the ground, making my way around to the side of the building to Lord Ardack’s office windows. Peering inside cautiously, I hold my breath. The room is empty. Where in the hell are—

  The door swings open, and I watch as Piper enters first, then Nash, and Lord Ardack close behind. Ugh—the guy makes me sick to my stomach. That fake smile, the way he pretends to be helping you while he is only plotting how to enslave everyone around him. Swooping back down, I crawl to the rear of the building, searching for an easy access point.

  A large man in a white jacket is carrying a load of boxes toward the back door. I rush over, and I offer to help as if I belong there. He motions to the open truck, and I realize he’s making a food delivery. Without hesitation, I stack the boxes in my arms and rush to catch up with the portly gentleman. A moment later, the back door opens, and a Lycan guard is staring at us. The gentleman explains he has a delivery, and we’re ushered inside, no questions asked.

  I follow him down the corridor and into a storage room; it’s obvious he has been here many times before. He thanks me for my help before I slide away unnoticed into the maze of halls.

  Evidence … what in the hell can I find that can be used as evidence? Maybe they have a control room I can stumble into with written confessions and blueprints outlining their master plan. Come on, Tynder, think outside the box.

  I told Nash I wouldn’t take any unnecessary risks to rescue Peter, but right now Peter seems to be my best bet in getting the proof to bring these bastards down.

  Where would they keep a prisoner? I remember back to when Desmond and I were captured. I can’t imagine where they would have dungeon-like cells in this place. There has to be somewhere else … a holding room.

  I continue down the long hall, doing my best to look inconspicuous. I’m merely a Lycan going about her business, so why is it that everyone I pass turns their head and continues to allow their eyes to linger on me? I feel my palms begin to sweat, and adrenaline grips my heart. What if they know? What if they can sense that I’m a Royal Magistrate and this is simply a spell? I need to find Peter, and I need to find him now.

  Two more sets of eyes follow me as I dart around a corner and press my back up against the wall. I don’t know how much longer I can keep up this charade. I reach around and make sure the sterling silver blade I have tucked into the back of my pants is still there. When I confirm that it is, I breathe a sigh of relief.

  I turn and walk as fast as I can, weaving in and out of the hallways. Emerging into a large open room, I realize somehow I’ve made my way to the main lobby area. I catch a glimpse of the frigid secretary and scurry past into the other wing before she sees me, praying my disguise is working.

  I pad forward, never slowing my pace, making a mental note of every turn now. Once I have Peter, I need to get out and fast. A Lycan dressed in all black is walking up ahead, his tall and lanky form familiar. He turns and disappears down a hallway. I freeze as it hits me. Ian Blake. I swallow hard, considering what to do next. If I turn and run, I’ll likely never find Peter. There’s a chance Ian is going to see Peter this very moment. If not, there is no doubt in my mind he knows Peter’s whereabouts. How do I get a Lieutenant of the Lycan army to reveal such information? Hmm … maybe I should just go in and ask nicely.

  Blinking several times, I wring my hands into fists. Now or never, I tell myself. Charging down the hall, and in the direction I last saw Blake, I’m met w
ith a series of doors. There is no indication what lies behind each door. It could be a room full of Lycan killers, or it could be Peter waiting desperately for my help. Biting my lip, I push open the first door to my left. The room is dark, and various boxes are piled in it. The next is similar, and the one after that. I’m starting to calm a bit, the terror of the unknown fading.

  I push open the next door, and, just as I begin to pull it shut, what I’ve just seen finally registers. Peter is slumped over in a chair. The same shirt he was wearing the night at the warehouse is clinging to his chest, large red patches of dried blood splattered all over it. His face is pale, a feat considering how dark skinned he naturally is. I rush over to him, flicking my eyes downward.

  “Peter,” I whisper. I glance around the room and see a two-way glass directly in front of us. For all I know, guards are watching us right now. It won’t take them long to figure out I shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t answer. With a single finger, I lift his chin, the wounds on his face turn my stomach. One eye has completely swollen shut in a puffy display of purples and reds. Blood runs down his temple from a gash over his eye, and a crusty mass of red clumps has settled around his swollen and split lips.

  “Damn it,” I mutter. If I am being watched, they should have already been in here to get me. If I’m not being watched, my window is small, and I need to get him out of here.

  I untie the restraints around his wrists and legs. Slipping my arm around his back and pulling one of his arms up and over my shoulder, I pull him upright. Hell, you don’t look this heavy. Making my way to the door, I’m more dragging him than carrying him. Suddenly, I hear him heave a sharp breath as he stirs into consciousness.

  “Piper—” he groans.

  “I’m going to get you to her, don’t worry,” I assure him. “But I need your help. Can you walk with me?”

  He presses down on my shoulder, positioning himself into an upright position, squinting out of his good eye, and nods. In a ghostly voice, barely more than a whisper, he tells me, “We have to hurry.”