Christmas Moon

by Sadie Hart

  Tears threatened to burn, but the moment she turned away Hunter was there, standing in front of her. He touched her face, the soft wool of his gloves skimming over her cheek and she closed her eyes. Right there, he held her together, just the touch of a fingertip against her skin.

  “You okay?” His other hand lifted until he framed her face, his thumbs skimming under her eyes. Wiping away the tears she hadn’t even realized she’d shed.

  The memory played out in her mind. Ari’s little face round with joy as she jabbed the button, the small horses spinning round as it jingled merrily. The ornament was so heavy they always had to hang it on the bottom, where the branches were stronger, just so it didn’t fall and break. It had broken the first year; one of the horses was now missing a tail.

  Her eyes opened. She didn’t even know how to begin to explain the swirl of emotions inside her, but the moment her gaze met his, she knew he understood. “We can find a different tree.”

  “No. This one is perfect. Everything I wanted.” She leaned her face into his touch. “I was just remembering her favorite ornament. I hope it still works.”

  She’d probably cry when she first heard that tune again, but she hoped and prayed it still worked. “I hope so too,” he said quietly and she smiled.

  Reaching up, Bree touched both of his wrists, holding his hands in place. Hunter stilled at her touch and for the briefest moment she regretted the slight touch. Then his gaze drifted down to her lips and she watched the heat bank in his eyes. “Hunter.”

  His eyes lifted to meet hers again. He stepped closer and Bree felt her heart pick up speed, slamming in her chest. One hand slid to cup the back of her neck, fingers tangling in her hair, the soft touch of his gloves soothing against her skin.

  Another step and Bree leaned into him, rising on her tip-toes to press her lips against his. It started out soft, gentle. Just a phantom of a kiss, a quick ray of hope, but she couldn’t pull away. Didn’t want to pull away. Something about kissing Hunter filled an emptiness inside her, reminded her she wasn’t alone—didn’t have to be alone.

  Amazing how in such a short time a stranger could turn her life upside down.

  He pulled away first, his dark eyes molten as they stared down at hers and Bree smiled. He’d become a heck of a lot more than a stranger. She almost dared to call him a friend, and she wanted to call him more than that.

  Then he blinked and stepped away, color hinting at the edge of his cheeks. “Sorry. That was probably not appropriate.”

  “What part?” She didn’t bother to hide the incredulity in her voice. She’d kissed him. He had nothing to apologize for.

  “A moment ago you were mourning your daughter.”

  “And a moment after that I was reminding myself that someone else has walked into my life and reminded me what it’s like to live again.” He stilled at that and she felt the blush creep up her neck. Bree looked away, staring at the tree beside her. “Some, you know, crazy next door neighbor who thought to remind me that I wasn’t exactly alone in the world. He even washed my garage door for me.”

  “My wolves did that.” There was a chuckle in his voice as he spoke.

  “Yeah. And then he was brave enough to stay for hot chocolate. Nice enough to check on me instead of hunting down a rogue. Even insisted on staying...”

  The words died in her throat when she heard Hunter step closer. He slid a hand around her waist and turned her back to him, his eyebrows drawn down as he watched her. Then he leaned in and kissed her again. “Why don’t we get this tree home for you?”

  His lips brushed her forehead and he stepped away. Bree watched as he headed for the back end of his truck. Even in the winter jacket, he radiated strength, presence. And as he looked back over his shoulder at her and smiled, she felt her heart flip in her chest.

  Then he pulled the saw out of the truck and turned his attention to the tree. Bree let him work, watching and reveling in the ease in which he tackled the problem at hand. The tree shuddered when it hit the ground, snow drifting up in white clouds around it. He looped a rope around the trunk and with a little work on both of their parts, they had it safely in the bed of his truck and ready to go home.

  She touched the prickly branches and smiled. It was perfect.

  Hunter laid a kiss against her cheek. “Let’s get it home and decorated.”

  “Thank you,” she whispered, fisting a hand in his jacket and a warm glow suffused in his eyes.

  “Everyone deserves a touch of Christmas, sweetheart. Especially those who’ve tried to forget.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  The scent of beef stew warmed her house. Bree carried the steaming bowl of stew into the living room and settled herself on the couch. The tree glowed with dazzling colors along the window. Hunter had not only stuck around to help her put it up, but decorate. The house, the tree, everything. Her heart clenched.

  He had no idea what his actions meant to her. How much she’d cherish the memories he’d given her for this Christmas. Tears stung the back of her eyes and she let out a slow breath. This Christmas she’d make new memories; they wouldn’t have Arianna in them, or Caesar for that matter, but they’d still be good ones. Scooping out a spoonful, she savored the rich flavors of vegetables and the thick gravy-like sauce. Christmas music hummed from the radio and for the first time since she’d moved here, the place felt like a home. Her home.

  About damn time too.

  By the time she’d finished with her dinner she was all but bouncing with joy. Humming along to Silent Night, Bree moved around the house, putting up pictures she’d kept hidden in her closet. She hung a pair of stockings on the door, one for Arianna and one for her.

  Night fell outside the windows and with it came fresh snow, the first in days. She leaned against the window sill beside the tree and watched the snowflakes trickle down. The lights hung along her eaves lit the snow, making each flake dazzle with color. Bree lost track of how long she stood there, remembering past Christmas evenings where Ari had made snowmen and angels outside, begging not to have to come in.

  The first yawn snuck up on her, the tendrils of sleep tugging at her, and Bree closed her eyes, her head leaning against the window trim. Today had been exhausted, long, stressful...and yet, triumphant. She’d found herself again, helped someone else, and for the first time in years, she’d found happiness again.

  Turning off the lights, she headed toward her bedroom. There were no constant phone calls to keep her nerves on edge and while the rogue was still out there, tonight was the first chance in awhile for her to truly get some sleep. Tomorrow she’d go back to the ravine, she decided, to see what else she could find. Maybe she’d even look up what she could on the Hale’s and see if she could learn something about the man stalking her.

  The moment her head hit the pillow, sleep grabbed hold of her and dragged her under, the weary aches of the day nothing but a distant lullaby as she drifted off. But somewhere in the trenches of sleep she felt the first stirrings of unease.

  Bree woke, her heart a hammer in her chest, and glanced at the clock. Almost three AM. She’d been asleep maybe three hours. She glanced around the dark expanse of her bedroom and couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary. With a grunt, she pressed her face into her pillow.

  “Losing it, girl,” she muttered to herself.

  Her body was so used to being on high alert now, used to the broken, jagged remnants of sleep she’d been getting with the bloody phone. Pair that with the adrenaline from today and of course she was having issues.

  Bree tugged the comforter up to her chin and closed her eyes, trying to will herself back to sleep, when the hair along the back of her neck prickled. Tension stretched through her muscles and she found herself holding her breath, staring into the darkness like a child awaiting the monster in the closet. Damn.

  She listened to the familiar sounds of her house at night. The clock ticked steadily along, the wind played along the loose boards on her front porch. Nothing sounded ou
t of the ordinary. She wanted to tell herself to suck it up, ignore it all, and go back to bed.

  But she’d been a Hound for too long to ignore her instincts when they came knocking. And right now, they were screaming that something was wrong. Rolling out of bed, she reached towards her nightstand where she now kept her gun when a shadow moved by the door.

  Bree launched herself towards the table, but she was too late. Just a hair too slow.

  The rogue caught her around her waist and flipped her back into the bed. Her feet tangled in the sheets as she thrashed but he pinned her, one hand falling over her mouth to block off her scream. A snarl rose in her chest. Like she’d have screamed. This bastard was going down. She bucked against his grip, twisting, and rammed her elbow into his ribs. He grunted and rolled away.

  She made another move towards the nightstand when a gunshot sounded through the dark. Piercing, right before it splintered the wood on the stand. “Looking for this?”

  She caught the handle and dragged the drawer opened.

  Gone.

  The bastard had her gun. Bree’s jaw tightened, fury coiling through her, wild and ready to be unleashed. He hadn’t shot her earlier today. She knew what he’d wanted then. A confession. To have her prove that he was right in his accusations, to make him a savior and her just another monster ending up dead.

  She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.

  Curling her hands into fists at her sides, she turned to face him. His face was drawn tight, exhaustion etched in every wrinkle and the dark bruises under his eyes. He’d slept even less than her. He stank of sweat and she knew he hadn’t had a real bath, one with soap, in a long time. She had no doubt he’d been hunting her for far longer than he’d let on.

  “Look at you,” he said, his cold eyes flashing as he stepped closer to the window, gesturing with one hand at the lights illuminating her side yard, “Getting all merry and shit.”

  “No use living in the past,” she said, voice hollow.

  “No? Are you done hiding from the truth then?”

  “I didn’t know what Caesar was going to do.”

  Rage enveloped him and he lunged towards her. Bree took a step backwards, her hip hitting the splintered table and she muffled a grunt, right before his fist slammed into the wall beside her. “Liar! Stop lying to me! You shared the same house, the same job. You slept in the same fucking bed.”

  “And how many people have had affairs while they went home at night and cuddled their ‘loved’ ones? Sometimes the people closest to you are the last to know.” Hurt and anger rolled into one and she lashed the words back out at him. She was so damn tired of feeling guilty, but damn it, if anyone was going to beat her up over this it was going to be herself. Not some psycho asshole who thought he knew the truth. “I didn’t know. He didn’t tell me. He didn’t say a word as he stalked the woman who was like a daughter to me.”

  There’d been a brief moment when she’d actually thought Caesar was having an affair, but when the truth had come out, she’d almost wished he had been. An affair she could have taken a thousand times easier than having to live with the fact that he’d killed so many.

  “He was distant, withdrawn, but we’d lost our daughter. I figured he needed time and space. I didn’t know what he was going to do. If I had, I’d have done anything to stop him.” Pain lanced through her heart as the words came tumbling out, one after the other. Bree let herself feel the pain, the regret, the wishes—because hiding her emotions in the dark hadn’t done a damn thing. Maybe pouring them out now was exactly what she needed to heal, and what he needed to hear. “I am sorry you lost your brother. I’m sorry that mothers and fathers lost their children. But I didn’t know until it was too late.”

  Bree winced at the memory. She’d held out hope that Caesar was good guy until the very end. She’d thought for sure that he had to be hunting the killer, that he’d never be the killer.

  She trembled. It wasn’t until the end when she’d finally accepted the truth. When she’d seen him lunging for Lennox, spouting off things the real Caesar never would have said.

  “You mourn him,” the rogue spat.

  Yeah, yeah she did. But she didn’t grieve for the man he thought she did.

  “I watched him die.” She’d sobbed over his body, held him, but the man who’d died that day in the barren rocks of the Boulder Pride’s territory wasn’t the man she’d mourned. Arianna’s father, the sweet man she’d fallen in love with, that had been who she had cried for. “But the man who did those horrible things, he wasn’t the man I married. The man I married was someone I loved, who loved our daughter, who wouldn’t have done those things. I mourn that man. And some days I still don’t see how he became the monster that killed those people. Including your brother.”

  Denial and rage flashed across his face a second before he leapt at her. Bree had just enough time to lunge out of the way. She bolted out her bedroom door just as she heard the gun crack behind her. Plaster flicked across the floor from where he’d struck the hallway wall. Shit.

  Bree sprinted for the living room, flinging open the front door, and bolting into the cold. The icy wind wrapped around her and her breath froze in her lungs, burning, but she pulled her inner-dog to the surface and shifted. In a single stride she went from woman to a brilliant red hound dog. Another shot fired but she was running for the trees, the dark bushes and haunting shadows seemed to reach out for her as she dove into them.

  But she didn’t stop running.

  She bolted into the forest, running full out, when she heard the terrible howl rip through the wind behind her. The rogue giving chase. And no matter how fast her dog ran, she knew the wolf would be faster. Stronger.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Hunter stirred awake, tossing off the heavy blankets as he blinked up into the dark. His muscles were tense and the wolf under his skin stirred, eager to get out. Worried. Hell. He rubbed his forehead. Maybe it was Rylie. The wolf always seemed to know when something was off with the pack and he’d learned not to ignore the animal.

  Dragging his ass out of bed, he grabbed his phone off the table and dialed the wolf in charge of guarding her tonight. “‘llo,” the gruff man answered.

  “How is she?”

  “Fine. Sleeping like a rock. Doc says she’ll be fine. He’ll release her in the morning.”

  “Good.” Hunter severed the connection and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the growing tension out of him. A muffled pop sounded in the distance and he tilted his head, curious.

  He was just about to reach for the covers and go back to bed when he heard the eerie howl, distant and faded, but it rocked the beast inside him and sent a chill down his spine. It wasn’t from one of his wolves and he knew the direction the sound came from.

  Bree’s house.

  Son of a bitch. Hunter leapt from his bed and sprinted down the hall. He should have known the bastard was going to go after her, that he wouldn’t have just settled for being one-upped at Wolf’s Peak. He’d just thought they’d have more time, that the rogue would be too rattled to worry about attacking now.

  Hunter rammed open his front door and bolted barefoot out into the snow. The wind slapped against his chest, leaving an icy sting across the broad expanse of bare skin. But he didn’t stop. Instead he yanked the beast inside him out and let the wolf flow free. He didn’t make a sound as he raced towards the woods behind Bree’s house and the direction of the second howl, triumphant as it gave chase.

  His wolf longed to answer, but Hunter clamped down on the beast. The rogue didn’t deserve to know danger was coming from him. That the hunter was also the hunted. He didn’t want that bastard to know he was coming until he ripped out the rogue’s throat.

  And Bree, he trusted she could stay alive until he got there.

  It hadn’t been long, but already he knew her well enough to know she could handle herself. He knew if that wolf was howling through the forest it was because it was already pursuing her, which meant she had a hea
d start. She’d make the best of every situation that turned up—including backup.

  His lungs screamed against the rush of bitter cold air flowing down his throat with every breath, every stride pumping hot blood through his veins. His nose registered the wolf’s scent the moment they neared his trail, followed by the unique, feminine scent that was Bree. He spun and followed the trail, rushing headlong through the dark bushes.

  A snarl rippled ahead followed by a thump of bodies hitting the snow. Desperation clawed through him, but no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t go any faster. The growl that poured from him was beyond his control, nothing could stop the beast from crying out. If that rogue so much as touched her, Hunter was going to rip him apart.

  There was a yelp ahead, then a second later a gunshot. The piercing pop splitting through the quiet, night forest. Hunter spilled from the trees just as another shot rang out. He watched as a sleek red dog dove to get away, one leg black with blood. Her body twitched as the bullet slammed into her haunches. Her back leg gave out but she spun, white teeth flashing in the dim light of the moon.

  Her jaws snapped around the man’s wrist. Hunter saw him squeeze for the trigger again and leapt.

  The roar that thundered out of him startled the rogue, it bought him the second he needed to clear that last distance between them. The rogue looked up at him, eyes wide just as Hunter’s wolf slammed into him, sending them all toppling into the snow. His teeth tore through flesh, blood spilling into his mouth as Hunter clamped his jaws over the man’s neck.

  The rogue gave a last gurgling cry before he shuddered and went still.

  Hunter pulled up, only to see the gun lying in the snow. Black against white.

  Bree lay a foot away, her sides heaving, but her head was up, ears pricked forward as she watched him. Her tail gave a small, half-hearted wave. Hunter shifted back to human on a breath, and then he was there, kneeling in the snow in front of her. With a pained shiver, Bree shifted. There was blood on her right arm. The skin was jagged and torn from where the rogue had bit her. Her flannel pajama pants were torn on her left thigh.