Blood Moon Rising Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Lola Taylor

  Her breath caught, and she swallowed hard. Something told her not to speak, to let him tell her how he was feeling as he figured it out, one emotion at a time.

  There was the trembling of a fist, right before he drove it straight through the wall with an enraged cry.

  She jumped, startled, and then dove to catch him as he sank to the floor with a defeated sob. His face looked red from holding back tears, which gathered in the rims of his eyes. He let her cradle him to her chest, rock him back and forth.

  In those silent, sweet moments, she swore she could hear her heart breaking. Though she could tell Elijah was trying to control himself, she felt his pain through their bond as clearly as if it were her own. Heartache, rage, and guilt roiled together in a hot, messy soup of volatile emotions. She’d been there, done that. Played the blame game. She knew what was going on inside his head. Wanted to fix it. But she knew she couldn’t unless he let her in.

  “Easy,” she murmured, pressing a kiss to his head. “You’re all right. It’s all right. I’m here.”

  Something about what she said, or maybe it was the softness in her voice, had him lifting his arms to clutch her so tightly it became a chore to breathe. Not that she minded. It was moments like this, the ones where they felt as if they had nothing else in the world to hold on to except each other, that seared themselves into Verika’s head and drove out the dark memories.

  These were the moments that kept her sane.

  Verika let him hold her, and she, him, for as long as he needed. Their mate-bond calmed and unwound, the emotional tension draining from it like water down a drain. His breathing steadied, as did his voice when he spoke.

  “I apologized to her, to Alara. And she forgave me.”

  “I knew she would.”

  “And I needed it, needed to hear her—my victim—say that she didn’t blame or hate me. I thought it would make me feel better, but if anything, it makes me feel worse. She’s a better person than I am. A far better person. If someone did to me what I did to her, I’m not sure I could forgive them.”

  “You can’t go beating yourself up forever. You have to forgive yourself and let it go.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you—”

  “No!” He untangled himself from her arms and stood, looking down at her. “You don’t understand. What if I lose control again? What if I kill someone? What if I kill…?” He reached for a strand of curly red hair dangling over her shoulder, as if to brush it aside or stroke it. At the last second, he changed his mind and let his hand drop.

  Verika got to her feet. “You’re not going to hurt me. We’re going to conquer this, together.”

  “Tch. If you knew what was good for you, you’d stay the hell away from me.”

  Her anger flared. “Why? Because you’re so big and bad? What about me? Have you seen my powers, what they’re capable of?”

  “You have more control than I do.”

  “Ha! That’s hilarious, Elijah… Ah, screw it. You’re going to find out eventually.”

  “Find out what?”

  “My powers are growing, have been growing at an alarming rate, for the past few weeks. Every day, I lose a little bit more control over them. If they get much stronger, I won’t be able to keep them in check.”

  “Jesus, Verika. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you had so many worries piled on your back, I didn’t want to add to the burden!”

  “You could never be a burden to me, do you hear me?” He grasped her shoulders, squeezed for good measure. “I love you too damn much to ever think of you as a burden.”

  She shuddered; her eyes blinked. “Say that again.”

  “You could never be a bur—”

  “No, no, no—the other part.”

  “Huh?”

  “Oh, just forget it,” she breathed. Her eyes dropped to his mouth. “I love you, too, you big goof.”

  Seizing his face, she yanked his head forward and slanted her mouth over his.

  Her emotions, her desire for him, flared brilliantly hot, consuming all rational thought.

  Yes, they had an insane witch to track down.

  Yes, they needed to deal with Elijah’s emotional scarring before it cost them all something very dear.

  But did they need to see to those things this instant?

  Hell no.

  Right now, the only thing that mattered was him in her arms, all of him, both their souls bared to each other.

  There was the tearing of clothes, the moan of pleasure as hot flesh met, and then he was taking her on the carpet.

  He pumped into her wildly, his mouth ravaging hers as surely as his body did. She felt the hot rigidness of his sex gliding in and out of her, the roughness of his palm as he pinned her wrists above her head with one massive hand.

  He suckled a breast, fondled the other. Squeezed, licked, and prodded. Her back arched as she thrust her hips up, bucking them in time with his.

  Sweat glistened along their flesh. There was a shudder, punctuated by their cries as first she came and then he.

  Spent, they lay there, still sculpted together, breaths hot and melding as they stared into each other’s eyes.

  He tenderly brushed the damp hair back from her flushed face. “Some things words can’t express,” he said raggedly.

  She smiled and kissed him, unable to agree more.

  When one of the servants came to tell them dinner was ready, they asked whether it could be brought up. Too much had happened today for anyone to be able to make polite dinner conversation. And judging by how well the last family dinner went, neither of them was in a hurry to relive the experience.

  As they sat in bed picking at plates piled with steamed vegetables slathered in butter, creamed potatoes rich in sour cream and garlic, and prime rib that was as spicy as it was juicy, Verika’s mind turned over the events that came before this quiet moment of peace.

  Elijah hadn’t wanted to go through with the memory probe; she knew he hadn’t. Could feel his fear screaming in protest through their mate-bond. Yet, at everyone else’s insistence, she’d coaxed him into it. If anyone were responsible for Alara’s injury and the cutthroat tension between Elijah and Nik, it was she.

  At a complete loss of appetite, she set down her forkful of asparagus and stared glumly at her half-eaten dinner. “I’m sorry.”

  Elijah paused in conquering his mashed potato pile to stare at her. “For what?”

  A half sigh, half sob rushed out of her. “For everything! It was my fault. It’s all my fault.”

  “What is, darling?” He’d set down his fork and scooted closer to her, grabbed her shoulders. “You’re not making any sense.”

  Tears stung her eyes. Dammit, she hated crying. Had used to cry all the time when she was a child, desperately wishing to fit in with other children her age who had already manifested powers. Back then her tears could fill a river—until she realized that didn’t accomplish anything. Then she’d plain stopped caring about friends, acceptance, loneliness. Had made peace with the fact that she was different and there wasn’t a damn thing to be done about it.

  Suppressing her anger at herself and the situation, she said, “I shouldn’t have pushed you into the probe. I should have tried harder to defend you, to do something other than just go along with whatever everybody else wanted. To hell with everyone else!”

  “Sssh,” he soothed, taking her to his chest and holding her tight. “None of that was your fault. I chose this. Me. Not you. In case you forgot, I’m a two-hundred-and-ten-pound mass of muscle and stubbornness. Nobody can make me do anything.”

  She smiled a little. “The stubbornness part might be understated.”

  “There’s my girl.” He kissed her forehead and let her slide out of his arms.

  She sat back with a hard sigh. The gears in her brain spun. “I just don’t understand what went wrong. I was so careful…”

  “Maybe nothing went wrong. Maybe you did everything perfectly. Wasn’t it
you who said magic was unpredictable, at best?”

  That was true. Master magicians had floundered spells they’d mastered decades ago due to circumstances outside of their control. Magic had a mind of its own sometimes. Still…

  She got up off the bed and went for the laptop nestled on a corner desk. Binding up her hair in a messy bun, she flipped the laptop open and pulled up a browser.

  “Whatcha doing?” Elijah came up behind her.

  “I’m not going to be able to stop thinking about it until I figure out what I did wrong—or what went wrong,” she amended quickly at Elijah’s raised brow. “Call it my inner spell nerd, but I don’t like making mistakes this big. I have to ensure it won’t happen again.”

  Elijah swallowed hard. For a moment, it looked as though his dinner might come back up.

  She squeezed his hand. “Not that we’re attempting that spell again. I already forbade it when Gage broached the topic earlier.”

  He sighed and smiled. “Thank you.”

  She gave him a brief smile back, and then turned her full attention to the computer. The rapid firing of keys filled the room.

  Eventually, Elijah wandered off, muttering something about going to bed. Verika whispered a drowsiness spell the second he closed his eyes to help him sleep nightmare-free. It took serious effort to keep her eyes open after several long hours of studying, reading, and working complex magical equations. And some serious willpower not to punch a hole through her computer. Or throw something. That seemed to be werewolves’ favorite way of venting anger and frustration.

  It was still odd, thinking of herself as a werewolf, but she might as well get used to the idea. Honestly, she didn’t mind it. Unlike with witches, a werewolf was just a werewolf. Well, sure, there were Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, and the Omegas certainly got looked down upon. But the pack took care of its own. Everyone belonged, everyone was important because the pack was only as strong as its weakest link. No one was considered useless or worthless, so long as you pulled your own weight. Not doing so meant risking exile, which in itself didn’t sound so bad. At least then you’d be your own boss, free to make your own choices.

  With witches, there was a social class “superiority ranking” based on what type of magic one manifested—or, as had been the case for Verika’s entire lonely childhood, what type of magic a witch did not manifest. Blue and Gray Magic seemed to be at the bottom of the “Most Coveted Powers” list. Green ranked somewhere in the middle, with Red above it because fire was arguably the most destructive element. Higher-paying jobs seemed to favor Red Magic because the ability to cause mass destruction was a highly prized asset.

  Then there were White and Black Magics, the most prized of all magical gifts for various reasons. Namely, the power to command life and death itself earned top dollar in the magical arts industry. But since coming into her powers, Verika had given very little thought to how she could monetize her newfound, and terrifying, abilities. Honestly, she knew she was really avoiding thinking about it because the longer she didn’t acknowledge this was her new reality, the less real it seemed. As if her life could go back to being the way it was before. When she was powerless, at least she knew who she was. She had an identity. Now, she’d gone from being comfortably shunned—or, at worst, ignored—to irrationally feared. Which frightened her more than anything because every time she looked in the mirror, she wondered whether people were right.

  As if maybe there really was something inside her to fear.

  Shortly before dawn, she ran out of coffee. Which was just as well, because she’d also run out of brain power and patience. The night had produced nothing new. She was no closer to figuring out why she’d failed in the probing than when she’d started, though she was closer to a migraine than before.

  Surrendering, she at last crawled into bed just as dawn’s first rays broke the horizon. The crackling of an unfamiliar paranormal signature, the same eerie sense of being watched by something not quite human, tickled her senses as her eyes fluttered shut, but by then she was too tired to care. It was probably her imagination.

  Probably.

  The first trickle of sunlight kissed Danica’s sleeping face, warming it. That was the problem with gauze curtains; although they looked pretty and feminine and all that, they didn’t do much for actually blocking light or heat. Not that she minded. Though she’d never tell the moon for fear it would get jealous, she loved the sun. Sunrise and sunset were her favorite times of day because she was a sucker for all the pretty colors.

  She lay there in bed, staring at the brightening light with a soft smile on her face. The manor was quiet, nothing at all like the noisy corridors of the palace that never seemed to sleep. The quiet used to bother her when she lived alone because it was a constant reminder she had no one special in her life, no one to come home to.

  No family.

  No doting husband or boyfriend.

  Nada.

  The house had felt empty and cold, mirroring the growing depression eating a hole through her chest. It had taken every ounce of willpower in her to keep it at bay, to keep it from sucking all the joy out of her life. Onyx nearly killing her had just about been the tipping point. Though she’d never told anyone, she’d come dangerously close to letting him that night in the parking lot outside of Howl. To letting him squeeze the life from her, to drain away all her sorrow and worries. The bills were piling up, she wasn’t getting any richer, and everyone she’d ever counted on had literally abandoned her.

  Then she met Gage. Sweet, wonderful, thoughtful, strong Gage.

  Her mate. Her king. The best damn thing to ever happen to her.

  Until now.

  She wasn’t surprised when the nausea crept up her throat, as it had done for the past few weeks. First thinking it a cold, she now knew it was so much more than that.

  Slinking out of bed, she padded to the bathroom and softly shut the door. A twist of the tap, and cold water splashed noisily into the sink, obscuring the sound of her heaving into the toilet.

  Gage had been so preoccupied with court matters that he’d either been up and gone before she was, or he slept like the dead and didn’t hear a peep of what happened in the room around him. Seriously, the wolf could sleep through a hurricane.

  Wiping her mouth, Danica stood and flushed, and then washed her hands and splashed her face with cool water and rinsed her mouth with mouthwash. God, the chilly water felt good. With her hormones in an upheaval, she was either constantly burning up or frozen to the bone. Usually a little of each several times within the same hour.

  Fun times.

  Turning off the tap, she turned to the side, lifted her shirt, and admired the slight bulge just below her navel with a grin. It warmed her to see her child—their child. The tiny, precious life growing inside her, filling her with his or her love. Maybe their love.

  When she’d first found out, it had been scary as hell, and there had definitely been an “Oh shit! I’m going to be a parent!” freak-out moment. This little person was going to depend on her. Her, who barely had her own shit together. Though her life had felt significantly more stable since meeting Gage, crazy witches and lovestruck ex-alphas excluded. But hey, everyone’s life had to have a little weird, right?

  Her palms slid over the smooth bump, as they so often did when she was alone. It still amazed her every time that she was carrying a baby—and made her happy beyond belief.

  A warm glow grew inside her, the love of her new baby—her pup—spreading through her like liquid sunshine. A deliriously excited giggle bubbled from her.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  Shrieking, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d been so distracted by admiring her new baby bump that she hadn’t heard Gage sneak up on her.

  Her handsome husband leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, lips stretched in a yawn. “I thought I heard you throwing up. Is everything… o…kay?”

  His entire body literally froze. Like really freaking froze. Blood drain
ed from his face. His jaw went slack. Eyes turned the size of silver dollars.

  Eyes that were very much glued to her stomach. In her shock, she’d turned halfway around, clearly exposing the bump for what it was.

  The air itself seemed to suck in a breath as Danica stared at her mate, and he stared at her belly.

  “I was going to tell you today,” she breathed, stepping forward tentatively and quickly thrusting down her shirt. “You’ve just been so busy lately, and with Elijah, I didn’t want to worry you more, or give you anything else to fuss over.” She knew she was rambling but couldn’t stop. It wasn’t one of her finer traits, the spew of word vomit whenever she was nervous. Something every woman in her family inherited.

  Gage’s blue eyes looked up at hers. So many emotions passed through them, it was impossible to keep up.

  Before she could blink, he stepped forward, swept her in his arms, and kissed her breathless.

  Dazed, she fought to catch her breath when he at last released her, one hand still gripping her head. “You are wonderful,” he rasped, kissing her hard again. “Amazing. Incredible. The most beautiful mate a wolf could ask for.” He kissed her again, this time reaching deep with his tongue and eliciting a moan from her. Her inner wolf stirred, wanting to mate, but her very human—and very pregnant—body was so tired and queasy it immediately shut the idea down.

  After he had kissed her senseless, he at last left her mouth alone long enough for her to speak. “Are you mad?” she whispered.

  He blinked. “Why on earth would I be mad?”

  “Because I didn’t tell you right away.”

  “You’re telling me now.” He brushed some loose curls away from her face before he pressed his forehead to hers. “And that’s the only thing that matters.”

  Alara’s eyes bugged as she set down the cup of hot cocoa. “Well, how’d he take it?”

  The majestic wolf had been Danica’s go-to gal when she’d seen the pink plus on the pregnancy test. In other words, she’d flipped out and called Alara at, like, two a.m. because she was just that awesome.