Beneath a Blood Lust Moon

by Jodi Vaugn

  His heart hitched as the female sobs grew louder. The one thing that always got to him was a woman crying.

  Easing further into the shadows of the alley, Braxton didn’t see anything at first. A small movement on the ground near the dumpster drew his attention. A petite blonde woman was sitting back on her knees, her hands covering her face and sobbing like someone had ripped out her heart.

  “Are you okay?”

  The woman jerked her head up. Pushing herself to her feet, she stood. The uneven brick pavers caught the heel of her shoe and she stumbled. Braxton wrapped his arm around her waist to steady her.

  “I’m fine.” She kept her head down, swiping her hand across her face to dry her tears. Her dark blonde hair curtained her face, hiding her features from his gaze.

  She pushed his hands away and took a step back. Her heel stuck in another crevice and pitched her forward into his chest. Automatically, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.

  “I’ve got you.” Braxton tried to swallow as her sweet scent muddled his brain. His blood heated from the feel of her small but firm breasts pressing into his chest. She might have been petite, but, damn, did she have a body. His dick hardened and strained forward.

  Unaware of the physical effect she was having on him, the woman looked down at her foot, wriggling her heel free from the crack. She was so very close. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deep, drawing her delicious scent inside his body, memorizing it. She wasn’t a werewolf, but her unique scent was the most fascinating thing he’d ever encountered.

  “You smell like fresh snow on cedar trees.”

  She looked up at him and blinked. Her beautiful brown eyes so serious. “Must be floor cleaner. I mopped before I came into town.”

  He would have laughed if he hadn’t been so startled by her beauty. She could be no more than twenty-five and her teary golden-brown eyes hypnotized him and had his heart racing like the latest Harley Davidson.

  He shook his head, but couldn’t bring himself to let her go. “No, you smell nothing like floor cleaner.”

  She cleared her throat and stepped back. Reluctantly, he let her slip out of his arms.

  “Are you sure you’re…” His gaze stopped at the pendant dangling around her neck. Reaching out, he brushed his fingertips across the moonstone shaped into a crescent moon. It was the same symbol female Weres wore when they were mated.

  He narrowed his gaze on her. It didn’t add up. Her scent was clearly not wolf, yet she wore the pendant of being mated. He gritted his teeth as jealousy flooded his veins. “Where did you get that?”

  She clenched the pendant in her palm. “My mother gave me this when I was a little girl.”

  He glanced at her bare right hand and relaxed. “I thought maybe your boyfriend gave it to you.” Her mother had probably bought the pendant from a pawnshop. Werewolves had money troubles, just like humans, and sometimes were forced to sell their prized possessions to make ends meet.

  “I’m single.” She blushed and shifted her weight. “Thank you for your help.” She dug her keys out of her purse and shouldered her bag. “I need to be going.”

  Braxton wanted to hold her tight and kiss her senseless until whatever had upset her was nothing but a wisp of a memory. He wanted leaving to be the last thing on her beautiful mind and him to be burned forever in her soul.

  He cleared his throat as he struggled to get his lust under control. He didn’t have time to get laid. The Assassins were probably closing in on him at this very second. If he didn’t get back on the road and make it to Missouri, he wasn’t going to live to see another day.

  “Maybe I’ll see you around.” She gave him a shy smile and slid into the driver’s seat of her SUV.

  His chest tightened as he watched her pull out of the alley and drive away. “No, sweetheart. I’m afraid you won’t ever see me again.”

  ***

  “He’ll try to make a break for the Missouri border.” Brutus ground his cigarette butt under his boot heel and glanced at his two Were soldiers. They’d been a team for years now, with numerous executions under their belt. With matching black Harley Davidson V-Rods and dressed all in black, they were an intimidating force when they rolled into town.

  “Don’t you know those things will kill you?” Lorcan, his second-in-command and ever-growing thorn in his side smirked as he finished gassing up his motorcycle. With his blonde hair and blue eyes, he looked more like a California surfer than a deadly killer. “Or kill us, if you get too close to the gas tank.”

  As the leader of the Louisiana Assassins, Brutus knew his two partners thought it was funny as hell to ride his ass about his nasty smoking habit, since werewolves never got cancer.

  Brutus shot a glare at Lorcan and Killian. “You two assholes better get focused. You know we have a job to do. I’ve never let a rogue werewolf out of my target, and I sure as shit don’t expect to start now.”

  “We got it, boss.” Killian straddled his Harley and started the engine. The massive beast roared to life. “We’re burning daylight. Eureka Springs is only a few miles down the road. Missouri shouldn’t be much further from there.”

  Brutus pulled out of the gas station and back on the road with his soldiers flanking him. His target was clear.

  Assassinate rogue werewolf Braxton Devereaux.

  ***

  “If I had the money, I’d give it to you. You know that, right?” Beau Smith, local vet and Kate’s best friend, squeezed her hand across the diner table.

  After embarrassing herself in the alley and crying all over the gorgeous stranger with the blue-tinged hair and tattooed arms, Kate had driven over to Beau’s work. He suggested taking her out to lunch in hopes of getting her mind off the day’s terrible events.

  “Even if you had the money, I wouldn’t take it.” Kate pulled her hand away and picked up a soggy French fry covered in ketchup.

  “I had a feeling you’d say that. It’s that independent streak running through you.” Beau sighed and shrugged. “So tell me more about this alley guy.”

  She flushed. Just the mention of the hot guy made her stomach turn to gelatin and her lady parts tingle. It was an odd reaction, since the stranger was totally not her type.

  “I don’t know. He came out of nowhere and helped me up. Not really much to tell.” She left out the part of when he had held her in his massive arms, she had this overwhelming urge to kiss every part of his incredibly hard body. Beau didn’t need to know about that part.

  “I’d never seen him before. I just thought maybe he was new in town and you might know who he is.” She shrugged.

  Beau frowned before taking a drink of his soda. “Doesn’t sound like anyone I know.”

  “It doesn’t matter anyway. I’ve got bigger issues than to be thinking about some hot guy.” Kate pushed her plate away and glanced at the time on her cell phone. “I’ve got to get going. I have to figure out how to get my bed and breakfast booked solid for a month.”

  “Go by the historical registry. I’m sure those ladies will have some good advice. Maybe they can push the Bella Luna on their website to encourage more visitors.”

  “I hope so.” She stood and took out a ten to cover her tab.

  “Put it away. This is on me.” Beau waved her money away.

  She hesitated and then relented. She shoved her money back in her wallet and dropped it in her purse. “Thanks. Next time I’m getting the check.”

  ***

  Braxton smiled as he passed the highway sign stating five more miles until Missouri. He’d make it to Branson with plenty of daylight left to drive around the city without worrying if someone was about to put a bullet in the back of his head.

  He couldn’t help but think about the pretty blonde he’d left in Eureka Springs. He never remembered having such a strong attraction to a woman, human or werewolf, before. A part of him wanted to turn around, seek her out, and make sure she was okay.

  Braxton shook his head. That was not even a remote possibil
ity. He was the one in trouble, not her. At least whatever she was facing wasn’t as bad as being hunted down and killed. He needed to start looking out for himself and stop worrying about someone who didn’t care what happened to him. Old habits died hard.

  A loud boom ricocheted down the highway and between the mountains.

  His first thought was that his tire had blown out until pain exploded between his shoulder blades and spread like fire to his chest. Confused, he glanced in his rearview mirror to see three Harleys speeding toward him. His heart nearly stopped as he realized he’d been shot.

  Assassins.

  He gripped the handlebars of the bike as blinding pain spread through his body at a dizzying rate. He tried to tighten his grip on the handlebars in an attempt to keep the bike upright, but the paralyzing effect of the silver bullet was too strong.

  The bike tilted to the right. Braxton tried to lean the other way, but his body wouldn’t obey. The bike went down hard on the road. His leg was caught underneath as the bike skidded a few feet on the asphalt and toward the cliff. He held his breath, unable to do anything as he, along with his bike, plunged down the mountain.

  Disengaged from his Harley, he continued to fall, crashing between limbs and bramble and trees. Pain splintered through his body as bones snapped. Being a werewolf, he could normally survive the fall and his bones would knit themselves back together unnaturally fast. But the silver bullet lodged in his shoulder would prevent any healing.

  The silver would slowly poison him as he died a painful death.

  His body met the ground in a bone-crushing thud, knocking what breath he had left out of his lungs. Nausea and fiery pain swept through his body in indescribable agony right before his vision grew dim and he passed out.

  ***

  Braxton blinked, his body jerking alive with excruciating pain. Night had fallen and the temperature had dropped several degrees. Pitch-black surrounded him and the bristle of pine needles stuck his face. He wasn’t dead.

  Yet.

  He tried to lift his left arm. White hot pain shot up his arm and into his chest. He knew immediately his arm was definitely broken. He raised his right arm, feeling his body for bone and excessive bleeding. Though no bone stuck out of the flesh, he could feel the awkward bend of the arm.

  He shoved down his nausea and continued assessing his injuries. His side burned with each breath, and he knew he had suffered some broken ribs as well. He bent his knees. Despite bruises, his legs were not broken.

  He closed his eyes, wondering why the Assassins didn’t finish the job. Maybe they saw him fall off the mountain and didn’t think he’d survive the drop coupled with the silver bullet.

  He shook his head, not daring to give that thought an ounce of hope. It was more likely they were waiting until dark to come back and make sure he was dead.

  Urgency flooded his veins. He had to get the hell out of there. His heart thudded against his ribs as he bolted upright. “Fuck!” Pain radiated throughout his core as his stomach twisted in nausea. He leaned over and emptied the contents of his stomach.

  He didn’t plan to stick around and wait for those assholes to finish him off. He wiped his mouth with his uninjured arm. Grabbing the nearest pine tree, he attempted to stand, but his shaky legs wouldn’t bear his weight.

  He panted as cold sweat beaded across his forehead.

  He had no choice. Not if he wanted to live. He needed to keep going. If he stayed, he was as sure as dead.

  Focusing his energy on his inner wolf, he shifted. He gritted his teeth, trying to not yell as his broken bones twisted into his wolf form. Bones shifted and cartilage stretched. When the transformation was done, he lay on his side, panting. His injuries were still there, but in his wolf form he might have a chance to keep moving. He eased to his feet, growling as the pain reminded him he was running out of time.

  He forced one paw in front of the other and began his trek.

  He just prayed he was walking toward the Missouri border.

  ***

  Braxton walked for an eternity under the cover of the inky night sky. Although his keen sense of sight helped him avoid running into a tree or stepping in a hole, he had no idea which direction he was going since he had no stars to guide him. His head spun as he pressed on, each step pure agony. Surely he had crossed the Missouri border by now.

  Glancing up, he hoped the sky had cleared. He needed those stars to guide his course. Once again, fate, being the bitch she was, had left him without a fucking star in the sky.

  His broken ribs cried out with every breath he took, and his body begged him to stop and rest. He knew better. If he stopped, he would die.

  A tiny light broke through the thick trees. It must be someone’s home. He sucked in another painful breath and pressed on, his eyes never wavering from his illuminated hope of harbor.

  ***

  He’d never raised a hand to either of his men, but for the first time, Brutus really wanted to plow his fist right into Killian’s face. They’d had to leave the spot where Braxton had been shot and head to the nearest rest area and wait until dark to continue their search for the rogue wolf.

  “Why in the fuck would you think it was a good idea to shoot a werewolf in the middle of the fucking day?” Brutus glared at Killian as they stood on the side of the road. The temperature had dropped several degrees and the scent of impending snow hung heavy in the air.

  Killian frowned and shook his head, his expression grim. “He was three miles from the border. He was about to jump the state line. I was thinking...”

  “No. That’s exactly what you were not doing. You were not thinking.” Brutus aimed his flashlight down the side of the mountain. “You’re lucky there was no oncoming traffic. Otherwise, your ass would be sitting in a jail cell for murder. Not to mention the fact that we couldn’t even stop and investigate without every nosy state trooper asking if we were having bike trouble.”

  “It’s not murder if there’s no body,” Lorcan said as he climbed up the steep drop-off. He’d volunteered to go down and investigate while Killian and Brutus stood watch from the road. “From what I can see, there’s no body—not a trace of him down there.”

  Lorcan frowned. “He must be heading to the Missouri border.”

  Brutus grinned. “Then we need to get there first. And welcome him with a silver bullet to his head.”

  ***

  “Barrett, what’s so important that you wake me up in the middle of the night to haul my ass all the way over here?” Damon Trahan glared at his Pack Master and all-around badass leader of the Arkansas werewolves, Barrett Middleton. Barrett’s office was sparse but neat, with a large desk and office chair that creaked every time Barrett leaned forward. Damon was big, but Barrett was even larger. Damon often wondered how much life the chair had left before it snapped under Barrett’s large body of muscle.

  He began to wonder if Barrett even had a home to go to, or whether the Pack Master had a bed somewhere in the back. The only time he’d seen his Pack Master was in his office or in the adjoining meeting room when all the Guardians needed to be updated on the status of the Pack.

  Barrett leaned back and smirked. “Don’t pull that shit with me, Damon. I doubt you and Ava were getting much sleep. I’ve seen how you two act in the day; I can hardly imagine what you’re like at night when no one is looking.”

  Damon let a slow grin cross his lips. “We’re way worse than what you are imagining.”

  “Okay, TMI.” Barrett’s expression grew grim as he met his gaze. “We have an issue. The Louisiana Pack has overstepped its boundaries. It seems early this morning a Were crossed into Arkansas.”

  “So?”

  “That Were was being following by three Louisanna Assassins.”

  “Shit.” Damon narrowed his eyes. Assassins were the death squad for werewolves who’d broken the most serious of offenses. Each state had its own Assassins, and they answered only to the Pack Master of their state.“Yeah, shit’s right.” Barrett ran a large h
and across his face. “The Assassins broke protocol when they didn’t inform me of their mission or even let me know they were crossing into my fucking state. I had to find out from an informant,” Barrett growled. “I was going to let it slide. Who am I to interfere with an execution?”

  “And now?” Damon cocked his head. Barrett was all about order and following protocol. There was something more to the story.

  “I found out the rogue wolf they’re after is Braxton Devereaux. The charge is murder.” Barrett sighed heavily.

  “Braxton Devereaux? From Shreveport?” Chills ran down Damon’s back. Braxton had helped him the night he went in to rescue his best friend, Jayden, from a pack of rogue wolves. Those same rogue wolves had kidnapped Ava. The leader of the rogue wolves was captured and Damon, as the role of Ava’s mate, had the honors of carrying out the execution. If Braxton hadn’t been there that night, things might have gone south.

  “So who exactly did Braxton kill to get an execution order?” Damon’s gut turned to stone.

  Barrett narrowed his eyes. “Braxton killed his father.”

  Damon gritted his teeth until his jaw hurt. “Well, from what I’ve heard the fucker was asking for it. It seems Braxton’s old man had a habit of using his mom as a punching bag.” Damon frowned. “Look, Barrett, even if Braxton did do this, don’t ask me to help the Assassins look for him.”

  “You feel indebted to him. I get that.” Barrett sat back in his chair.

  “He helped us out in Shreveport. You know I’m right. At least get his side of the story before handing him over to the Assassins.”

  “The Were Law states I am to hand over any werewolf accused of murdering another werewolf.”

  “The Were Law also states any Assassins crossing into your territory have to be granted permission before doing so,” Damon countered.

  “So when this shit blows back, my defense should be, ‘They started it.’” Barrett shot him a glare.

  Damon gave him a toothy grin. “Always works for me.”

  CHAPTER THREE

  Kate clutched the baseball bat in her sweaty palm and eased the front door open. She had tried to ignore the soft whimpering coming from outside, but her heart tugged with pity for whatever creature might be freezing to death in the snowstorm that had come out of nowhere.