Huntress Moon (Bones and Bounties Book 2)

by Bilinda Sheehan

  I stared at him, dread and nausea growing in the pit of my stomach. “What does this mean?”

  “My brother wants to meet. He wants to see you with his own eyes to make sure I’m telling the truth about you. If we don’t, he will put a bounty on our heads and let the others hunt us down.”

  “Your brother is an asshole,” I said through gritted teeth.

  “He is only doing what I myself would do in his position,” he said.

  “Maybe, but that doesn’t change the fact that he’s an asshole,” I said. “Anyway, we weren’t alone when the house burned down last night, so couldn’t the others vouch for us?”

  “I tried to tell him that, but he’s not interested.”

  “Fine, we’ll see him,” I said, irritation colouring my words.

  Byron inclined his head in my direction.

  “So when you’re done with the family niceties, where will we meet?” Idalina asked. “Your entrance to Faerie was always different from mine.”

  “We’ll use yours,” I said, catching Byron’s eye as he headed for the door. “We can’t go right now, though. I’ve got to call someone to come round and make sure Samira stays safe.”

  Byron shook his head. “The arrangements are already made.”

  “I’m going over to visit Tim,” Samira said, a coy smile hovering around her lips.

  “And who is Tim?”

  “The friend Byron introduced me to last night. It’s Tim’s coffee shop,” she said, and the name sounded vaguely familiar.

  “The place across the street?” I asked. Samira nodded and grabbed her bag from the desk.

  “He said I can bring Fuzzikins with me,” she added.

  The look I gave her would have withered lesser women, but Samira squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin defiantly. “You might have decided to call her Havoc, but that doesn’t mean I’ve agreed to it.” Then she threw her bag over her shoulder and scooped up the cat.

  I didn’t respond; I had no time to argue with her over the name of the cat. But secretly I knew Fuzzikins would never stick.

  Samira placed her hand on my arm, the expression in her eyes softening. “Don’t go too hard on him,” she said.

  “Samira,” I warned, but she shook her head and grinned.

  “Look, you know me, I’ll always stick my nose in where it doesn’t belong. But please, just remember that he’s not the enemy.” She released me and headed for the door without looking back. I turned to watch her cross the street. The tall blond man who greeted her in the doorway with a warm smile looked happy to see her.

  “What is Tim?” I asked, turning to face Byron, who hadn’t moved an inch.

  “A witch. He runs the place with his sister, Emily. The pair of them are more like family to me than anything else,” he said, and the sudden warmth in his tone told me he was telling the truth.

  Glancing back out the window, I could just make out a petite blonde woman bouncing past Tim and dragging Samira inside. If Byron believed she would be safe with them, she probably would be.

  “Why does she wear a collar?” he asked suddenly, breaking my train of thought.

  “It’s a long story, and it’s not really my tale to tell,” I said, heading for the basement stairs. Idalina was already gone, no doubt making preparations for whatever awaited us in Faerie.

  He didn’t answer, instead following me and trailing my every move. I felt him cross the wards I’d set up to guard the basement, his warmth tingling my skin as he descended the steps. His wolf was close to the surface today, no doubt a product of the sickness, but I wondered if perhaps his brother’s ultimatum had contributed.

  “You’re bringing weapons?” he asked in surprise.

  “Of course,” I said, resisting the urge to add a ‘duh’ to the statement, but that would have been childish and so I bit back the word. What exactly did he expect? This wasn’t going to be a friendly chat, especially not if his brother was tossing around words like ‘bounty’ and hunting us down like we were little more than common criminals. In fact, his brother would be lucky to walk away from the meeting with his pelt intact.

  “He won’t take kindly to you walking into the den armed,” Byron said.

  “And I don’t take kindly to people giving me orders.” I strapped the silver blades to my wrist sheaths. “I’m bringing him a cure, so he could at least be happy.”

  Byron said nothing, but continued to watch with interest as I geared up. Some of the weapons were for my meeting with Byron’s brother, but most wouldn’t come into use until I stepped foot in Faerie. If I was lucky, I still wouldn’t need the half of them, but luck was for leprechauns.

  The Bone Blade hung from my belt, and for good measure I strapped a long sheath to my back, securing it in place under my arms and around my waist. Pulling my hair out of the way, I slid the long blade into place, the handle easily reachable beneath my braid.

  Byron’s eyes had widened slightly at the sight of the steel sword, but he didn’t say anything else. Either he was honestly afraid I would use it on him if he questioned me again, or he’d just given up his attempts at changing my mind.

  Grabbing a combination of wickedly sharp iron throwing knives and silver-coated steel ones, I arranged them in place around my belt and inside my boots. Guns would always have the advantage against wolves, but I just couldn’t quite wrap my head around using guns as weapons. They gave you the ability to kill from a distance, which seemed like a good idea, but I’d been brought up on blades. Something about them appealed to me.

  Perhaps it was my Unseelie nature, but I enjoyed the proximity a knife or a sword required—getting up close and personal, the spill of blood across cold steel, the ability to look into your enemy’s eyes as you brought their life to an end.

  Closing my eyes, I shook off the frisson of excitement that raced up my spine. Now was not the time to get caught up in memories.

  “Lead the way,” I said, reopening my eyes to find myself staring into Byron’s gaze as the predator within swam up to the surface.

  “Your scent,” he said, drinking deeply of me, “it changed. What were you thinking about just now?”

  “Nothing that will help us,” I said, hating the hoarse longing in my voice. I clenched my hands into fists, so badly wanting to tuck the loose silver lock of his hair back behind his ear.

  Goddess, what was wrong with me? Here I was, covered in blood and grave dirt and turning into a quivering wreck every time I was within touching distance of his skin. The only other man I’d ever been so drawn to in this animalistic way was Lunn, but that was part of his power. Now that I knew he had been worshipped as a god, I understood why humans threw themselves at his feet, why they lost their minds just trying to get one look from him. Hell, physical contact with Lunn had the power to turn even my knees to jelly. Of course, knowing he had been the father of the wolves made everything else about him fall into place.

  The wolf in Byron’s eyes faded slowly, and he straightened up once more. He drew a deep breath into his chest, his shoulders rising slowly as a rueful smile crossed his lips.

  “You do things to me that no one before you was capable of,” he said, closing his eyes and letting his head drop back.

  “Ditto,” I said with a sigh. Pretending like I wasn’t attracted to him wasn’t going to achieve anything. He could hear my heart beating, and if my scent changed when I thought of the past, then it definitely changed when I thought of him without clothes, his sweat-slicked skin pressed to mine.

  “Stop it,” he said suddenly, and I bit my lip hard enough to draw blood, the pain shattering the image that had threatened to swallow all of my self-control.

  “I don’t know what I was thinking,” I said, putting as much distance between us as the small basement would allow. Byron’s reaction reminded me of Lunn, and the way mere proximity to him could cause me to lose my head. My heart ached at the memory. What if we didn’t get to him in time?

  Byron wouldn’t even look at me as he turned towa
rd the stairs, taking them two at a time back up to the main office.

  Great, so not only was I attracted to him in ways unbefitting any self-respecting harbinger, but now he had practically run away from me. Was he expecting me to jump him?

  With a growl of frustration, I gathered up the last of my blades and followed him back up to the office, crushing down every ounce of attraction I had for him. The last thing I wanted was to visit his brother, but since we had to, then I needed to be in control of my feelings. Byron might know I wanted him, but I didn’t need a whole den of wolves knowing it too.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  I followed Byron through the city on my bike as he wound through the traffic and led us to its outer limits.

  Byron killed the engine and let his bike roll to a stop on the rough gravel, dust kicking up around the wheels as he steadied himself with his legs straddled on either side. I followed suit, remaining on the bike as I stared up at the white-slatted house and the huge wraparound porch where several people milled around. They watched us warily as the dust settled and the breeze carried our scent toward them, and I watched as their eyes shifted to amber.

  The sound of a screen door slapping against the side of the house cracked through the awful silence that had descended around us like a mantle. A man who looked like a younger version of Byron appeared. His hair and eyes were the same rich colour, but he was missing the Mallen streak and his shoulders weren’t as broad. As I stared at him, I quickly realised he was also shorter than his brother, and the dusting of stubble on his face was much blonder in colour, almost invisible in the dim light of the covered porch.

  His flip-flops slapped against the worn boards of the porch as he walked toward us, and his jeans hung loose on his waist as though he’d recently dropped a lot of weight. His cheeks were hollow and sunken, and the dark circles beneath his eyes gave him a haunted look. His grim expression did nothing to lighten the mood that was growing more and more hostile as the weres already gathered on the porch moved into a loose formation.

  “We came as you asked, brother,” Byron said, his voice calm and lacking the usual challenge and authority I’d come to expect.

  “Not before I had to threaten you. Don’t you think there was enough to worry about?” Ash’s anger caused the hairs on the backs of my arms to stand to attention.

  “For that, I am sorry. I thought I was doing the right thing.” Byron held his brother’s gaze.

  “You are not alpha here. You do not think unless I say it is so!” Ash’s voice lifted with anger. It dawned on me then that they were having a staring contest, as if they were kids in a playground. Of course, the outcome would probably be different, but the level of ridiculous was the same.

  “I don’t mean to interrupt the pissing contest you two seem to be enjoying,” I said. “You might be alpha of your pack, but I am not pack and don’t come running when you whistle. And if your bitch takes one step closer to me, I will present her head to you while her heart still beats.”

  I felt the wolf behind me halt. Her progress had been stealthy and silent, but I’d caught her scent in the downwind when she’d dropped from the tree next to the driveway as we drove in. Her scent was similar to Heather’s, and I wondered if they were related.

  Byron broke from the staring match, and I felt his eyes graze over me before he turned to the woman who was within leaping distance of me. A low growl trickled from his lips, and I felt the tension in the air ratchet up several notches.

  “You wouldn’t dare harm one of mine,” Ash said.

  “If you think I wouldn’t, then you don’t know me very well,” I said, my voice filled with icy certainty. “I won’t touch her if she backs off, but if any of yours attempt to harm me I will finish them.”

  Part of me hoped she would continue forward, that she would jump the way her readied muscles said she wanted to. What was wrong with me? I was standing in a wolf stronghold, and I was hoping to go to war? Was I nuts?

  “Stand down, Michaela.” Power rippled through Ash’s words, tightening my muscles as it slid across my skin.

  I felt her disappointment, but still she didn’t move. No human in her position would have been able to keep such laser focus, but she was a true predator who could remain locked on me for as long as necessary.

  “Michaela.” Byron’s voice cut through the tension, the power he called forth rushing over me in a scalding heat.

  The wolf behind me let out a low-pitched whimper and stumbled backwards on the gravel. Byron had said his brother was fit to lead, that he was the true alpha, but the difference in their power was like night and day.

  “You’re disciplining my wolves now, brother?” Ash said, and a low whine of frustration escaped the wolves who had gathered at his back.

  “I did not come here to fight you; I came to help. So please, Ash, let me.” I hadn’t expected to hear Byron pleading.

  Forgetting where I was for a moment, I took my eyes off Ash and the other wolves, my gaze falling instead on Byron as he lifted his hands to his brother in an almost submissive gesture. It pained me to see him pleading. He was a true alpha. Byron’s father might have told him that he was built for war while his brother was built to lead, but, as I stood in their presence, I couldn’t help but disagree.

  “I have a cure,” I said. “Not much, but perhaps enough to keep the worst at bay until I can get more.” I spoke loud enough for any wolves nearby to hear. I half-turned, giving my shoulder, but not my back, to the strange alpha.

  The air shifted around me as Ash launched himself across the short distance between us. He’d used my momentary distraction to take the upper hand. He had no intention of making peace or accepting that his brother had come to me for help. But then, what else could I expect from weres? Just like the moon they worshipped, they were ruled by emotions that could change like the tides.

  Rolling backwards off the bike, I landed on my feet and crouched low in the gravel, my boots a little unsteady on the stones determined to shift beneath me. The moment I’d felt the first flicker of movement from him, I’d pulled two silver blades free of my belt and readied myself for impact.

  Ash slammed into the motorcycle, sending it skidding away as he half-shifted and reached toward me with clawed hands. I brought the blades up in front of my face and then sliced down the insides of his wrists in an arc. A roar escaped him, but he kept coming despite the silver blades and the blood dripping onto the ground. I jumped, using my crouched position as extra leverage as I back-flipped out of his reach, my booted foot connecting with his half-human, half-canine jaw.

  He fell backwards, and I readied myself for another assault, lining up the blades in my hands as I prepared to throw them. Ash climbed to his feet and moved toward me once more, but Byron was there before the knives could leave my hands. He slammed into his brother, sending them both sprawling to the ground in a scattering of gravel and dust. The sound of flesh being torn and the pained growls of the two half-shifted men filled the air.

  “If you had given me a chance to finish…” My words were cut off by the sound of a gunshot ringing through the air, and I jerked to the side as a bullet grazed by my head, whistling as it passed me and found a different target.

  There was a short bark of pain, and the ferocious battle shuddered to a halt. Byron fell away from his brother, the front of his shirt soaked with blood.

  My heart stopped as his surprised eyes met mine and his hands went to his chest. Shouts and howls of anguish ripped the air, and I found myself moving forward without really thinking about what I was doing.

  Byron’s gaze tore away from mine and latched onto his brother, who had dropped to his knees.

  Ash’s gaunt face was completely human again and even more haggard now than when he’d first appeared on the porch.

  My eyes fell to the bullet wound that had ripped through his abdomen beneath his left lung. The blood bubbled in the wound as Ash tried to speak, air wheezing past his lips and coating them in crimson flecks.

>   Ash started to fall forward, and I wrapped my arms around him to stop his fall. My hands were coated in warm blood that spread across his front and back, and I knew without a doubt that the bullet had exited.

  I’d mistakenly thought the day couldn’t get any worse. But having the alpha werewolf of the local pack bleed out in my arms as his lung collapsed while his brother watched, his face a mask of horror, made me realise my mistake.

  The day absolutely could get worse. And if the alpha died while we were surrounded by his pack…

  Well, then the shit was well and truly going to hit the fan.

  “You have to shift,” I said to Ash, cradling him against my body.

  “Can’t,” he managed to wheeze out.

  I pressed my knee into the wound in his back to apply as much pressure as possible.

  “You’ve got to! It’s a through-and-through, and if you shift you will heal most of the damage. If you don’t…” I didn’t finish the sentence; I could already feel Death hovering on the wind, and each rattling breath Ash took brought him one step closer.

  His eyes told me he knew the truth, but I could see that something was holding him back from shifting.

  “Why won’t he shift, Byron? Tell him,” I said, urging him forward.

  “If he shifts this close to the full moon, the force of it will bring on the change in the whole pack,” Byron said.

  “So?”

  “The change could kill some of the younger, weaker wolves,” he said, but it sounded suspiciously like an excuse to me.

  “You’re an alpha!” I said in frustration. “Take the pack from him… Release him so he can save himself.”

  “I gave up my right to the pack a long time ago. That cannot be undone.” His words sounded odd and rehearsed.

  “Bullshit,” I said. “I might not be an expert on weres, Byron, but I know crap when I hear it.”

  Ash didn’t give Byron a chance to respond, his breaths growing shallow as his colour started to change.