“Excuse me?” A smile crept across my face. She was wrong; she had to be. Byron wasn’t dead. Nor was he supposed to die—he was sitting right here in front of me.
“You heard me, Darcey. He was supposed to die. What did you do?”
I stuttered like a child caught in an act of defiance. Except I hadn’t done anything wrong. At least, I was pretty sure I hadn’t done anything wrong. I’d simply done what was necessary to save him. Where was the harm in that? But that was a stupid thing to even think. I, above all others, understood the balance. Certain actions caused harm, sometimes minor harm, but it created a ripple through the fabric of time, knocking the balance off and costing hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent lives in the process.
“I didn’t do anything,” I said finally. It was the truth. I hadn’t done anything special… or had I?
“You must have done something,” Noree insisted. “First, you cross the boundary and take death into yourself… Just because you have that power doesn’t mean you should wield it.” She shook her head. “And now this? I saw his death, harbinger—it was bloody and it was messy, but it was a true death.”
She was calling me ‘harbinger,’ which meant nothing good.
“I swear, I didn’t do anything special. You know I gave up my powers for the cage.” I conveniently left out the part where the Bone Blade had appeared in my hand. That used to be a regular occurrence, and while the Bone Blade still answered to the harbinger side of my nature, I didn’t wield the level of control over it that I once had. And because I was weaker, the blade was weaker by extension.
Until tonight.
I had felt it feed on the werewolf’s life. Now that I was thinking about it, that didn’t feel right. But at the time, watching the blade feeding on his death, feeding on his soul, had felt more right than anything else had in a very long time. And that was enough to frighten me.
“You’ve thought of something. I know you have.” Noree moved toward me and grabbed my face.
Jerking away from her, I took a step back. I’d allowed her to read me in the basement, but I wasn’t going to do that now. Once per day was definitely one time too many.
“What I think in my own head, gypsy, is my own,” I said, pushing as much venom into my words as I could.
Noree looked shocked and recoiled from me as though I had slapped her. For a moment, I felt remorse.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” She cut me off with a wave of her hand and turned toward Byron and Katia.
“What took you so long, child? Why are you always so slow to complete such simple tasks?” She snatched the small leather bag from Katia’s hands.
“I am sorry,” she said, but Noree lashed out, leaving her handprint on the young woman’s face.
“Don’t take it out on her,” I said, moving to intercept the second blow, but Noree shrugged out of my grip and stepped away from me.
“She must learn, or she will perish at the hands of something like you.” Noree practically spat the words in my face.
“You can’t—” I started to say, but Byron mumbled something in his sleep.
“I can see now what the beast wants with you,” Noree said, her words cutting me to the core.
“What does that mean?”
“You are the key to his freedom, and he knows it. All he needs to do is find a way to force your hand, harbinger.”
“I won’t give him that chance,” I said, but Noree laughed, the sound echoing oddly in the small room.
“You talk like someone with a choice,” she said when she finally got her laughter under control.
“I do have a choice,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Do you know one of the last things he said to me before he ate the eyes from my head?” she said, changing the direction of the conversation with such speed that I was sure I would end up with whiplash. She leaned in toward me and hissed, “What I think in my own head, gypsy, is my own.”
It took a few seconds for realisation to sink in. Such simple words, petty and insignificant on their own, and yet they had the power to rock me to my very core. Those were his words, not mine.
Turning away, I stumbled to the other side of the room and planted my hands on the wall, letting my head drop down between my shoulders as I struggled to draw a deep enough breath.
“Do you feel him inside you yet?” she asked, her words carrying across the room, each one like a rock around my neck, drawing me closer to the ground.
“You’re wrong,” I said. “He has no hold over me. I would know it. I would know if he had me again.”
But I couldn’t stop the small kernel of doubt that sprang up in my heart. Would I actually know? I certainly hadn’t the first time he had taken over, not until it was far too late, and by then I was already lost to him. To make matters worse, I had my full powers at that time.
Now, however, I was weak. A pathetic creature whose mere existence on the earth did nothing to enhance it in any way.
“Would you know, Darcey?” she asked, her voice closer than it had been moments before.
Searching deep within myself, I found my answer and drew myself back up to my feet. “I would feel it. I know what it is to be controlled. To destroy at the whims of another. And I made a promise that I would never again allow that to happen. I would rather destroy myself.”
“What if that is what he wants?” she asked gently.
I didn’t have an answer for her. I could only say for certain that I would never again allow anyone to control me, and I would keep that promise to myself. No matter what.
Noree patted my shoulder, and her sudden kindness surprised me. “I know you fear him as much as I do.”
“Every time I close my eyes…” I said. She nodded, and I didn’t need to finish the sentence. She, above all others, understood.
“Now come help me fix your wolf as best as we can before the tonic wears off,” she said, moving back toward Byron and Katia.
“What about Katia?” I said.
Without turning to face me, Noree shrugged and gestured to the girl still holding the leather bag. “What do you want from me?” she asked.
“Your power,” the girl said, and the hunger and bitterness in her voice surprised me.
“And what will you do to get it?” Noree asked.
“Whatever it takes,” Katia said simply, and in her words I could hear the implicit threat.
Noree nodded, seemingly satisfied. Had she not heard the girl’s pledge?
Noree took the bag and waved Katia away, and the girl practically ran from the room. I noticed that she didn’t look frightened, or even upset, despite the imprint of Noree’s hand that stood out in stark relief against the pallor of her cheek.
“Do not worry your head about her,” Noree said. “She has only tried to kill me four times, each time less imaginative than the one that came before it. I’m beginning to lose hope with her.” Noree pulled what looked like a large needle made of bone from the leather bag.
“She’s tried to kill you four times and you’re all right with that?” I asked.
“It is our way,” Noree said. “The day she is fit to kill me is the day my power shall become hers. It only took me three attempts to kill my maestru.”
With a shake of my head, I stood beside her and watched as she pushed the bone needle through Byron’s shoulder while muttering something beneath her breath. I couldn’t see any thread on the needle, but power prickled along my skin as the wound slowly began to close and the oozing blood slowed to a trickle before stopping completely.
When she was done, she grabbed a jar from the bag and spun open the lid. The room suddenly filled with the scent of blossoms and roses. She slathered the wound with the pink, gritty mixture before replacing the lid.
“What about the sickness?” I asked.
Noree shrugged. “There is nothing I can do for that. He is strong, but it is stronger. That is why I sent him to you in the first place.”
“Yeah, why did you do that
?” I asked.
“Because you were the only one I thought might have a chance of stopping the wolves should they go rogue. I hoped you might be able to find a cure before they all turned.”
“You know about the Huntress Moon?” I said.
She nodded, still busying herself with the bag’s contents.
“It is said that the first wolf was actually a god, and that he and a goddess created the were-shifters as we know them. But he supposedly fell in love with a human and bit her, turning her into the first werewolf.” Noree placed the bag on the floor before taking a seat on the sofa.
“But that’s not possible,” I said. “Everyone knows a human can’t survive the turn into a werewolf.”
Noree shook her head. “Patience. Let me tell the tale.” She settled back in the chair. “The goddess, so unhappy with what the god had done, poisoned the woman. The poison turned her mad, and that madness was complete on the Huntress Moon.”
“What happened then?”
“In her madness, the woman attacked the god. He was forced to kill her, but not before she cursed her daughters so that many of them would never be able to carry their children to term and would die in childbirth rather than suffer the same fate as her.”
“Could any of this be true?” I asked.
“As true as the existence of banshees and magic,” she said.
“What happened to the god and goddess?”
“It is said they destroyed each other, but that’s where the tale becomes a little hazy. The goddess is said to have given her shifter children the ability to spread their nature with a bite, giving them the upper hand against the werewolves. But that ease came at a price.”
I nodded. “Turning is far more painful for them, almost an agony. I’ve heard some even try to avoid it, but that usually proves impossible.”
The story sounded farfetched, but, as Noree had said, it was no more unbelievable than the existence of magic and the fae. Of course, most of the tales of the gods and goddesses were simply stories of fae in the prime of their power. I’d never been able to work out whether their power had come from being worshipped as gods and had waned as the belief in them faded, or if they had been powerful enough to rival any god and the diminishment of their powers was simply due to ageing.
“So where would the poison have come from now?” I asked. “It seems a little coincidental that something from the origin story of the weres and shifters is occurring now and wiping out both of them. Especially since it’s set to culminate on the Huntress Moon.”
“But the shifters will recover—they multiply faster than rabbits. Werewolves, on the other hand…” Noree shook her head and eyed Byron. “He wants to save his kind, but the future is bleak indeed.”
“Couldn’t you just tell me who is responsible for all of this?”
“No. Just as you are not allowed to interfere in the balance between life and death, I, too, cannot interfere in what is to come. In fact, I have already interfered far too much.” She pushed up onto her feet.
I didn’t try to argue. If the Noree had made up her mind on something, then she wouldn’t change it.
“I shall wake Samira and tell her you are here to take her home,” she said, eyeing the windows and the beginnings of the dawn light streaming into the room. “You do not have a lot of time left, Darcey. The first night of the Huntress Moon will be upon us two nights hence… If there is not a cure by the moon’s rising, many will die.”
“So no pressure,” I said, but there was no sarcasm in my voice. It was simply the truth.
She glanced in my direction and then nodded. “I will get Samira,” she said, making her way out of the room and leaving me alone with Byron. She was right. Many would die, especially if the rogue I had faced in the woods was any indication of what would happen to the others. Just thinking about it sent a shiver racing down my spine. Death had been waiting—I had felt him. When the werewolf had jumped me, I’d felt Death’s icy breath on my neck. And despite everything, I was still sitting here, alive.
Noree had thought Byron wouldn’t make it back alive. But as I watched him sleep, his breaths deep and even, his chest rising and falling, I knew I would have done anything to make sure he did. I was beginning to develop feelings for the wolf, feelings I had sworn I would never allow myself to have again. Hell, that was part of the reason I was so goddamned afraid of getting too close to Lunn. That man was sex on legs.
So how had I allowed Byron to blindside me? He’d gotten past my defences the moment he’d pinned me to the floor in my own office. I’d felt the attraction simmering between us, but had he?
Shaking my head in an attempt to clear it, I consoled myself with the thought that my feelings for Byron were artificial. He was an alpha wolf. I’d seen Samira go weak at the knees for him, and my attraction to him was simply due to his pheromones.
“Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Darcey,” I said beneath my breath.
“Keep telling yourself what?” Byron asked, watching me from across the room.
“None of your business,” I snapped, suddenly angry at myself for getting caught, and angry at him for doing the catching. “Time to go,” I said to Samira as she entered the room with bleary eyes.
She nodded and grabbed her coat from the couch as Byron pushed unsteadily to his feet.
“I think I might need a little help,” he said.
“Fine.” I crossed the room and placed his arm across my shoulder once more.
He settled in against me, the hot press of his body sinking in through my clothes as we headed for the door. Luckily, the sky was still partially dark, because if anyone saw us crossing the city in such a state I didn’t know what I would say.
A car sat at the curb outside, the engine idling gently and the passenger window open. The moment he saw us, the driver indicated for us to hop in. I turned back to stare at Noree’s apartment, but the only indication that she was watching us was the slight twitch of the curtains as they dropped back into place.
“Looks like we’ve got a ride,” I said, helping Byron into the back seat and waiting for him to scoot across. Once we were all settled, the car took off, gliding smoothly through the city streets. I could feel the tension in Byron’s body as he sat next to me, his leg pressed to mine, but I kept my gaze trained out the window. If we were going to talk, then we would do it back at my apartment and not in the back seat of the Noree’s car. The driver was clearly loyal to her, and that woman had more than enough ammunition on me already. The last thing I needed was for her to find out the kinds of feelings I was beginning to have for the wolf. No, if I was going to make a fool of myself, I’d do it in the comfort of my own four walls, thank you very much.
Chapter Twenty-Three
We made it to the apartment, and Samira took one look at my expression before scooping up the kitten and heading for her room. I helped Byron to the couch and then made my way to the kitchen, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water from the filter jug on the counter.
The water was warm, but my dry lips didn’t care, and my throat slowly lost the scratchy feeling that had been bothering me all the way home.
“Darcey,” Byron said, and the husky way he said my name sent frissons of desire racing down my spine.
I turned to find him within touching distance, and it took all of my willpower not to reach out and run my fingers beneath the ripped fabric of his hoodie, to feel the warmth of his skin below.
As though he could read my thoughts, he groaned and brushed his fingers against my cheek, pushing a strand of hair behind my ear. I leaned into his touch, all thoughts of keeping my hands to myself forgotten.
Moving into him, I pressed my face against his throat, inhaling the scent of pines and fresh snow. He wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me against him, his body fever hot, and when I glanced into his eyes I saw his wolf staring back at me.
“This is a bad idea,” I said, planting my hands against his chest.
“Why?”
&nb
sp; “Because it’s too much like me taking advantage of you. You’re sick. Maybe when you’re better, but right now…” I trailed off as he tightened his grip around my waist, his fingers digging into my flesh, and my breath caught in the back of my throat as I imagined all the things those hands could do. I arched into his touch as he scored his fingers beneath my shirt, his thumbs brushing against my ribcage and sliding higher.
“I nearly died tonight. I felt my life ebbing away, and before that…” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “When I saw the rogue take you down, I thought you were gone.” The words were little more than a painful whisper, but I was so close to him I could feel every one of them reverberating through his chest.
“But we’re not dead,” I said.
“You’re not, but let’s be honest…the chances of finding a cure before I go rogue is pretty slim.” His eyes popped open once more, the wolf barely restrained beneath the surface.
“You might think it’s slim, but I don’t.” I forced myself to sound confident. I’d almost watched him die once, and I wasn’t going to do it again, even if that meant giving my own life in return.
“Darcey, let me have this,” he said, raising one hand to my neck and sliding his fingers up into my hair. He tightened his grip and tilted my head. I moved with him, my ability to fight his touch melting away as his lips met mine.
All of my reservations disappeared as he crushed my body to his, his lips brushing against my mouth, his tongue dipping in to taste me.
The hand on my waist suddenly felt different, his grip tightening past the point of pleasure as his kiss grew more desperate, almost hungry. I shifted in his hold, but his fingers became claws that dug into my flesh, holding me more firmly in place. He bit down on my lip hard enough that my mouth was flooded with the sweet tang of my own blood.
My eyes met his, but it was no longer Byron staring down at me. Twisting free of his grip and tearing my eyes from the beast’s, I moved away from him. He raised his fingers to his lips and tasted the blood that dotted his clawed fingers.
Huntress Moon (Bones and Bounties Book 2) Page 16