Bound to Secrets (Sisters of the Moon)

by Nina Croft

  My name is Connor and I’d like us to be friends.

  She blinked; he’d hardly want to be her friend if she burst into tears every few seconds. Instead, she bent down and investigated the remaining contents of the rucksack.

  Chocolate. Fruit. Tins of soup. Steaks. A bottle of whisky. A huge cake.

  Her mouth watered and her stomach rumbled. Very slowly, she unwrapped a bar of chocolate and placed a piece in her mouth. She stood there, her eyes closed as she savored the intense flavor. When she opened her eyes the wolf was watching her, head cocked to one side. She broke off a square of chocolate and held it out to him and he took it delicately from her fingers.

  “Hello, Connor,” she murmured.

  Turning away, she busied herself emptying the rucksack and shopping bag, nearly swooning as she discovered coffee and milk. He must be a mind reader to know of her cravings. Unable to resist, she set up her small kettle on the camping stove and left it to heat while putting things away on the makeshift shelves.

  She’d cook a dinner, a proper dinner. Steak and salad, then cakes for dessert. Would a werewolf want his steak cooked or raw? A smile tugged at her lips at the thought.

  She had a friend.

  At least for tonight.

  ***

  That night Connor didn’t allow himself to sleep. Keira appeared nowhere near as tired as she’d been the night before and he didn’t fancy waking up to find his brain melting. Instead, he lay beside her, listening to the sound of her breathing.

  He realized something. Always before, he’d found his human self totally submerged when he was in wolf form, but this time he could think clearly. He made a mental note to ask Sebastian whether this was normal.

  When he knew dawn was close, he rose from the bed, grabbed his rucksack in his teeth, and padded outside and back to where he’d left his clothes. He took a deep breath and shifted.

  Once he’d dressed, he sat on a tussock of heather and took out his notebook and pen.

  Keira,

  I have to leave but I will be back.

  He sat back and chewed the end of his pen while he thought about what to tell her. He didn’t want to mention the Agency. Not until he knew more of her story, and he didn’t think she was ready to tell him yet. She had talked nonstop last night while she cooked and ate. But nothing really of any importance and nothing of the past or how she had come to live here alone on the moors.

  Watching her eat, he reckoned he’d felt the first moment of happiness since he’d been attacked six years ago. It was his goddamn savior complex coming back to life. And he knew that could only cause him pain. He was no savior; he was a monster. He went back to the letter.

  You might not know it, but you have sisters, and they’ve been searching for you. They heard rumors and sent me to investigate. They want to help you. I need to return to London, but I’ll be back in two days.

  That was the quickest he reckoned he could do the journey both ways and fit in the operation to have the shielding implant. The operation was a simple one. Even so, he knew two days was pushing it. But he remembered Keira’s tears when he’d arrived back last night and couldn’t bear the idea of leaving her longer than he had to.

  He needed to add one more thing.

  Keep out of sight—there may be others who heard the rumors.

  Connor.

  He thought about taking the note back but when he glanced up, she was standing in front of the keep, one hand shading her eyes from the rising sun. He lifted the note and waved it toward her, placed it on the ground and weighed it down with a rock. Then he turned, picked up his rucksack, and set off. It was at least five miles to where he had left the car, and he wanted to be back in London by nightfall.

  ***

  Keira watched until he’d disappeared across the moor and couldn’t help wondering whether she would ever see him again. The sun was just rising; for once, the sky was clear and the light sparkled on the water of the loch. She walked slowly toward the point where he’d stowed his clothes.

  A piece of paper rested on a tussock of heather under a piece of rock. She was almost scared to reach for it. But at his first words, she relaxed and the tension inside her eased. She sank down to the grass and read the rest.

  She had sisters?

  She’d known she wasn’t the only one. Back at the Agency, they’d told her there were others, but she’d never been allowed to meet them. Keira reckoned they’d probably been “terminated” as they’d planned to do to her. Either that or they now worked for the Agency. But perhaps some had escaped as she had done.

  Could she trust them?

  Maybe this was all a trap. But if Connor had wanted to kill her or even take her back to the Agency, he’d had plenty of opportunities.

  And at the end of his note, he’d said there might be others after her. That had to be the Agency. Who else would care? She pressed her fingers to her forehead trying to ease the pressure. Should she go away? Head further north, lose herself in the Highlands?

  But she was so tired of running and hiding.

  Maybe the time had come to face up to what she was. Perhaps there was someone who could help her get control, even reverse whatever they had done to her all those years ago.

  And for some reason, she trusted Connor.

  She’d wait and hope that somewhere in the world there were people who didn’t want her dead.

  Chapter Four

  They arrived the afternoon Connor left.

  A man and a woman.

  Keira had seen them from a distance and known instantly they weren’t the usual hikers. They were hunting for something—probably her—crisscrossing the moors, constantly alert. The woman appeared vaguely familiar, medium height and slender, with long dark hair, but from her safe distance, Keira could tell nothing more.

  They didn’t come near her the first day, but all the same, she hadn’t returned to the keep to sleep. She didn’t want to be trapped inside if they found her. Instead, she grabbed a sleeping bag and spent an uncomfortable night wedged in a rocky outcrop. It had started to rain just before dawn and she was cold, wet, and tired by the time the sun came up.

  They returned that morning and found the keep around midday. Bel-Bel, her tame magpie had swooped down on them. They must have taken that as a sign there was no one around, because they circled the place once and then left.

  Keira spent a second night outside and was close to exhaustion by dawn. But at least this morning, she was dry.

  She rose to her feet and stretched, her muscles sore from the uncomfortable position. As she stared out over the moor, she became instantly still. The sun had burned off the last of the early morning mist revealing a solitary figure striding toward the keep.

  Connor.

  Relief rolled through her and she realized that despite his note—which was still in her pocket and which she read at regular intervals—she hadn’t really believed he would return.

  She raised a hand and waved. He stopped walking and lifted his own to shade his eyes. She’d forgotten how stunningly gorgeous he was. Tall and lean, and even in human form, he moved with the lithe grace of an animal. His black hair was glossy and fell over his forehead. He wore faded jeans that hugged his narrow hips and long legs, and a black sweater with the sleeves pushed up. A rucksack hung over one shoulder but he carried no shopping bags this time. Maybe he didn’t plan to stay.

  She waved again, and he started walking toward her.

  What was he doing?

  He was getting too close. She started to back away.

  “Keira, wait.”

  She stopped at the sound of her name. How long since she’d heard it spoken?

  “Don’t go. I think I’ll be okay, just stay where you are.”

  Okay? How could he be okay?

  Then she realized how close he’d gotten and her fists clenched at her sides. She studied his face for signs of pain, but he showed nothing. Her feet itched with the need to run, but she held herself in place, hardly daring to breathe
as though if she moved now, everything would fall apart.

  Finally, he came to a halt only a foot away.

  And she stood staring at him, her mind refusing to function. He seemed real. So why wasn’t he rolling about in agony?

  “How?”

  He lifted his hand and touched the side of his head, behind the left ear. “I’ve got an implant. It stops telepaths from being able to read your mind. The Agency developed it—”

  “You work for the Agency?”

  Her panic must have shown.

  “No. Never,” he said quickly. “The people I… work with, they discovered the technology when they rescued your sister, Tasha, from one of the Agency’s labs.”

  She found it hard to take in. For the first time in over five years, she stood close enough to touch somebody. And she couldn’t resist. Her hand reached out of its own accord and her fingertip stroked his cheek. His skin was warm.

  At least she wasn’t crying; she was way beyond tears.

  He stood like a statue while she touched him. Edging closer, she pressed her palm against the soft wool of his sweater, felt the steady thud of his heart.

  His hands came up almost tentatively and rested on her shoulders. It occurred to her that she knew nothing about this man. Except he could turn into a wolf and somehow he could stand beside her and not scream in pain. It was enough.

  More than enough.

  She took the last step, which brought her up against his body. He was much taller, so her head tucked in beneath his chin. Breathing in, she caught a wild musky scent, which reminded her of his wolf. His arms came around her and pulled her tight against him, and for long minutes they stood wrapped close together. She thought she felt his lips brush her hair, but she wasn’t sure.

  If she turned her head slightly, she could taste him; kiss the skin of his throat. She’d never kissed a man. And up until five minutes ago, she’d been convinced she’d go to her grave without ever kissing a man.

  Why was she even thinking about kissing?

  Finally, his hands tightened on her arms and he put her slightly away from him. He stared down into her face, examining her. What did he see? She hadn’t looked into a mirror in years. Occasionally, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the still water of the loch, but never clearly. Now she wished she’d combed her hair—at least at some point in the last six months. When her mother had been alive she’d encouraged Keira at least to try and maintain a semblance of a normal life, normal routines. But since her mother had died, she’d almost given up. What did it matter what she looked like when only the animals of the moor ever saw her? And they didn’t care.

  His brows drew together in a frown. “You look a mess.”

  Well, what had she expected—romantic words? She’d read too many books. All the same, it didn’t seem fair—she’d been standing here thinking how stunning he was and he’d been thinking she looked a mess.

  His hand came up and he brushed her long hair away from her face and stroked her cheek beneath her eyes. “You’re exhausted and malnourished. Haven’t you been eating or sleeping?”

  “No and no. What are you—a doctor?”

  She’d meant the question to be sarcastic, but his lips curved into a smile. “Actually, yes.”

  “Oh.”

  “Why? I left you food. Why haven’t you been eating? And what are you doing out so early?”

  His scolding nearly broke her. She bit her lip and pulled herself together. She should tell him. “There were people here—the day before yesterday. They arrived not long after you left.”

  His brows drew together. “Hikers?”

  She shook her head. “No. They were searching, systematically. And one of them—the woman—seemed familiar.”

  “You think they were from the Agency, looking for you?”

  Could she trust him with her secrets? And would she be putting him in danger if she did?

  “I can help you, Keira.”

  “Why? Why would you want to help me? Who are you and how do you know about the Agency.”

  “I told you in my note, I know your sisters. And they’ve been looking for others like them since they escaped the Agency.”

  She wanted to believe in him so badly. But she had relied on nobody but herself for so long she was finding it hard. Too much emotion, together with the lack of sleep and food, finally caught up with her and she swayed.

  Connor tightened his hold on her arm and held her up. “Come on, let’s get you to bed.”

  “I’d rather stay out here. I don’t want to be stuck inside if they come back.”

  She thought he would argue, tell her she was being paranoid, but in the end, he shrugged and glanced around, his gaze resting on her sleeping bag. He nodded toward it. “Okay, get in then and get some sleep. I’ll keep watch.”

  He shrugged off the rucksack and put it on the ground and then crouched down and rummaged inside. He brought out an apple, a bar of chocolate, and a thermos flask.

  “In.” He pointed at the sleeping bag, and she sat down and wriggled into it, then took the food he offered. He watched as she ate the chocolate and washed it down with hot coffee.

  There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but waves of sleep were washing over her, dragging her under. She placed the empty cup on the ground beside her and snuggled down. Connor crouched by her head and stroked a hand over her hair. “Go to sleep. I’ll wake you if anyone comes near.”

  She watched for a minute longer as he pulled a set of binoculars out of the rucksack then moved to the highest point and started to scan the surrounding area.

  Then closing her eyes, she slept.

  ***

  Keira slept for eight straight hours. Connor alternated between scanning the area for any signs of life and sitting on a nearby rock watching her sleep. He also tried his cell phone; he needed to contact Sebastian to tell him he’d arrived and Keira was safe. But the phone was dead—he suspected it was more than the lack of a signal. He saw no one and by midday, he relaxed a little. Chances were, if they hadn’t found anything in the last two days, they would have given up.

  For once, the sun shone, the sky arched deep blue above them, transforming the moor. No longer the dark and depressing place he’d first seen.

  He turned his attention to the sleeping woman. She was beautiful, though way too thin, the bones in her face sharp under pale skin. Her hair was dark, not black as he’d first thought, but deep dark brown with glints of ruby. Her brows were elegant arches, her lips soft in sleep, full and tender. Watching her, he felt something tug at his heart. A mixture of compassion and guilt.

  He’d spent the last few years bemoaning his fate. Up until the attack, nothing in his life had ever caused him problems. For as long as he could remember, he’d wanted to be a doctor—like his mom—and save people. He’d sailed through med school and been well on his way to his dream of being a top surgeon when he’d been bitten.

  He hadn’t even been on duty in the ER that night, just passing through when he’d heard the commotion. Everyone else had had the sense to get out of the way, they’d all been running out of the room as he’d run in. Afterward, he hadn’t remembered much.

  It had been the end of his career as a surgeon. The end of any career as a doctor as far as he could see. The smell of blood raised a hunger in him he couldn’t control. Though Sebastian claimed that was his own stubborn fault; if he would accept his wolf, then his control would grow.

  He hadn’t wanted to accept anything about his new situation. Instead, he’d wallowed in self-pity because his perfect life had been fucked up. He’d spent years rejecting what he was, refusing to even acknowledge it more than he absolutely had to.

  But here was this young woman. He could only guess what she had gone through in her early years, but he doubted her childhood had been happy or normal. And her life must have been almost impossible since she’d fled the Agency, never to be able to approach another person for fear of hurting them.

  But she’d made s
ome sort of life for herself out here. She hadn’t given up and immersed herself in self-pity as he had.

  He went and sat beside her, his back resting against the rocky outcrop. As though she sensed his presence, she rolled onto her side and curled up against him one hand resting on his thigh and a sense of peace stole through him.

  When she finally opened her eyes, the sun was high in the sky. She shifted onto her back and blinked, then came awake suddenly and bolted upright.

  “Shh,” he murmured. “It’s okay. Everything is all right.”

  Wonder filled her eyes. He didn’t think anyone had ever looked at him quite like that before and it made him feel inadequate. Unworthy.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hello. How do you feel?”

  “Better. Hungry.”

  “Well, get up and I’ll heat you up some food. I think we’re safe—there’s been no sign of anyone all day.”

  He got to his feet and held out his hand to her. As she slipped her palm in his, a tingle passed up his arm. Her eyes widened and he knew she had felt it as well. He tightened his grip and pulled her up.

  After pushing everything back into his rucksack, he slung it over his shoulder, picked up the sleeping bag, and headed toward the keep. They didn’t speak on the way and once inside he busied himself sorting out the food he’d brought with him; rich beef stew ready to warm up. He set up the camping stove and placed the pan on to heat. Glancing up, he found her staring at him.

  “What?” he asked.

  Keira shook her head. “Nothing. I’m just not used to…” She waved a hand at the food cooking, the other provisions he’d set on the small table.

  “Relax then. Sit down, have a glass of wine.”

  She peered down at herself and winced. “I think I’ll go wash up. If that’s okay?”

  She was actually a little…crumpled. And grubby.