Moon Bound (The Reluctant Werewolf Chronicles Book 3)

by Tori Centanni

  “It’s not often a were graces us with their presence,” he said.

  His voice had a low timber that seemed to rattle my bones.

  “Oh?” Really clever response, I know.

  He smiled faintly. “Not many of your kind are collectors. But you are?”

  I swallowed uneasily. Something about his golden eyes made me nervous, but this was my chance.

  “Yes. Or, I want to be. I’m interested in rare and arcane books, but there weren’t any tonight.” Not that I’d have had any hope of affording them if there had been. I didn’t say so. “Do you know where I can find items like that?”

  The man’s eyes widened in surprise. Whatever he’d expected me to say, that wasn’t it.

  “Odd for your kind to be invested in books. I thought you were more about brute strength.”

  I pictured Raff, buffing up to fight for his life, and shivered. I did not point out that it was ridiculous to assume all werewolves were alike.

  “I’ve always preferred books.”

  “I see. Well, you can always check with Ellianne. She’s a fae woman in West Seattle who collects.”

  I tried not to let my disappoint show.

  “Okay, I will,” I lied.

  He tilted his head in a predatory way, a predator examining its prey. “But perhaps you two are already acquainted, since you bear the Faerie Mark.”

  My mouth went dry. I didn’t have a response to that. His eyes met mine, and I felt them probe into me, as if he could read all of my secrets. I wanted to run away, but I didn’t dare move. Finally, he broke his gaze.

  “I, myself, enjoy collecting the odd magical tome.”

  The way he said it sounded like a challenge. I couldn’t figure out how to react. And before I could, a woman came up and took his arm.

  He hooked his arm through hers and asked me, “Which book do you seek?”

  I hesitated, unsure if I should tell him. But then, what was the harm? Either he knew where I could find a copy or not, and if so, he’d tell me if he so chose.

  “Curses and Cures by Leah Ladd.”

  He put his thumb and finger around his chin and considered.

  “I don’t believe I know that one,” he said, with a slight shrug.

  Disappointment washed over me. If this guy collected arcane books and hadn’t heard of it, maybe it really was too rare to find.

  “No one has,” I said, a little bitterly.

  “Aki, dear, really, must we linger? I’m so bored.” She wore a bright red dress that matched her pupils and pouty lips.

  “Of course, dear,” he said, and nodded at me before turning to leave.

  I stared after him, unsure what to make of the encounter. I didn’t know what he was—or what his girlfriend was—but he was definitely dangerous.

  “Aki Volan doesn’t have anything you want.”

  I looked up to see Bryce, a demon—well, half-demon—I’d met briefly not long ago while looking for the source of a poisoned potion. His dark hair was spiked up with gel, and he wore a black suit vest over a collared white shirt and black slacks, which was far more formal than anything I’d seen him in before. Granted, I mostly saw him on videos on his YouTube channel, where he talked about experimental magic potions.

  “Bryce, I’m surprised to see you here.”

  Honestly, I was surprised to see anyone I knew, since I wasn’t exactly popular in supernatural circles.

  He shrugged. “I like to find cool art. Nothing I wanted tonight, but you never know. What brings you here?”

  I felt immediately like a kid being caught out of class, though I had as much right to be there as anyone else.

  “I’m looking for a book.” His brow knitted together. “For someone else. I’m sort of on an errand.”

  “Is that what the Faerie Mark is for?” he asked.

  “Okay, seriously, is there anyone who can’t see it? Is it like a giant light-up billboard over my head or what?”

  Bryce smiled. “Other werewolves probably can’t see it. Doubt shifters can either. And most witches might miss it.”

  I felt my shoulders relax. At least Raff wouldn’t know it was there.

  “What book?” Bryce asked.

  “Curses and Cures,” I said. “It’s rare.”

  “Never heard of it. I’ll let you know if it crosses my path. But a word of warning: Stay away from dragons. They’ll always take more than they give.”

  “Dragons?”

  My brain reeled, bringing up images of the golden scales on Aki's hands.

  “Just trust me. They’re the last people you want to do business with.”

  Bryce patted me on the shoulder, which wasn’t condescending at all, and then got his coat. I remained rooted to the spot, trying to absorb the fact that dragons were real and I’d just spoken to one, until the place was almost empty. Then I got my phone, made my way out to the street, and summoned a car to go home.

  Chapter 6

  By then, it was midnight, and though going home felt like giving up, I didn’t have anywhere better to go. I’d exhausted my current options. The clock was ticking, but I still had two more days. I decided to scour the internet, check for replies on my posting, and then squeeze in a nap and a shower before I ventured out again.

  Raff wasn’t home. Disappointment warred with relief inside me. I wanted to see him, because I always wanted to see him. Whenever he was around, I felt light and happy in a way I couldn’t explain. But I was also glad I wouldn’t have to look at him and think about the idiotic fight he was about to throw himself into. Plus, I didn’t exactly want to tell him about Michael. Things were already tense between my BFF and my roommate, and Raff did not like vampires. Michael dating one had been bad enough. Being one was going to ratchet up the tension between them.

  I opened the fridge and grabbed a slice of cold pizza and a can of caffeinated cola and headed to my room.

  No one had responded to my posting about the book. And new internet searches didn’t turn up anything. Eventually I passed out on top of my covers, woke up an hour later, and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Raff’s door was shut now, and his light was on, so I knew he’d come home. I resisted the urge to knock. Instead, I pulled on pajamas, sent my alarm for another two hours, and fell asleep.

  At four am, my cell phone alarm blared to life and my eyes popped open. I’d been in the middle of a strange dream and, disoriented, pushed myself out of bed. I got dressed, put on makeup, and then checked my computer for messages.

  I had two.

  Blood pumping, I clicked the first one. It was from someone with a username made of random letters and numbers, and the message was gibberish. Some kind of weird dark net spam, I guessed. Disappointed, I deleted it.

  The second was from someone named BookWitch. That was promising. The message was short and sweet. The woman said her grandmother had been a big book collector and she swore she’d seen a copy of Curses and Cures in her collection, but unfortunately all her stuff had been sold a few years ago. She gave me her grandma’s name, Emily Dart, and last address, where her estate sale had been held.

  My heart deflated. On a scale of one to helpful, that was maybe a two. But it was also the only lead I had so far. I supposed I could try and track down whoever had managed the estate sale and find if they’d kept detailed receipts. If I got lucky, I might be able to find out who’d bought the book, and if I got really lucky, they’d let me have it.

  I wasn’t feeling very lucky.

  Raff was still asleep because it was too early for anyone to be awake. I suddenly realized I was supposed to work at the yogurt shop today and immediately felt like crying. There was no way I could waste eight and a half hours at work when I only had forty-one hours left to hunt down this book; just wasn’t going to happen.

  I thought about Michael, now a vampire who couldn’t even do his job making internet videos now that he was a supernatural creature.

  Well, I was too, darn it, and I had better things to do than pour soft-
serve into cups all day. So, I did something rash: I dialed the yogurt shop. No one was there at four in the morning, so I got the machine.

  “Hey, this is Charlie Lear,” I said. “I have to resign. Sorry. I’ll come get my last check next week. Um, thanks.”

  Then I hung up, heart pounding, feeling like I’d just cut the cord on my parachute. The yogurt shop was the last piece of my normal, non-werewolf life I’d had left, and now it was gone, too.

  I didn’t know what I’d do for money, but I’d work that out after I was sure all my time wasn’t going to be devoted to being Ellianne’s errand girl. I knew Raff would forgive me if I was a little late on rent, especially after I explained everything.

  Assuming he was still around to care.

  I swallowed a scream and made a pot of coffee to drown my panic. Then I sat with the steaming mug of java and a Pop-Tart and looked up Emily Dart’s old address and the words, “estate sale.” Old listings for the sale came up almost immediately.

  Thank goodness for social media and internet archiving, that’s all I had to say.

  I jotted down the contact’s information and then finished my coffee. It was too early to call, which meant I had a few hours to explore other avenues–if I could think of one. There had to be something obvious I was missing.

  “You’re up early.”

  Raff stood in the kitchen doorway, hair rumpled from sleep. He still wore polka-dot pajama pants and a blue wolf t-shirt.

  “I couldn’t sleep,” I lied, hoping he hadn’t heard my alarm going off. “Why are you up?”

  “Not sleeping so well myself,” he said and got himself coffee before joining me at the table.

  We sat in silence for a moment, Raff tapping the sides of his mug with his longer fingers.

  Finally, he said, “I know what I’m doing. With Levi, I mean.”

  A lump formed in my throat.

  “I know,” I croaked, although I wasn’t so sure.

  Raff had always been a little cocky and full of bravado. He was strong and sexy and kind, so it worked for him, but I was scared it might get him killed. Tears pricked at my eyes, probably fueled by exhaustion, but I willed them away.

  “I just hate that someone has to die just to figure out who gets to be in charge. It’s so stupid.”

  “No one’s going to die,” Raff said.

  I stared, confused. “You said…”

  He lifted one hand and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “It is a fight to the death, yeah. And in theory, one of us is going to die. But there are ways around it. If I injure him enough that he can’t fight, I can show mercy and let him live.” Raff stared into his mug. “That’s my plan. But you can’t tell anyone. Because I have to go in with the intention that only one of us will walk out.”

  “That’s not a plan,” I said. “That’s a gamble.”

  He shrugged. “I believe I can best him.”

  “So do I,” I said firmly, trying to meet his gaze. I needed him to hear that, to know that I believed in him. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was Levi was unpredictable and fights were chaotic. There were no guarantees. “But Levi has done this before. And if you think you have a sneaky solution, imagine all of the bright ideas he’s got. What if he gets lucky and wins? He might not be merciful.”

  “I know,” Raff said quietly. “Like I said, I’m willing to take that risk. But I wanted you to know that if it’s up to me, no one is going to die.”

  With that, he got up. “I should get dressed and head to the gym. Always good to get there before it’s crowded.” He left, shooting me one look over his shoulder as he did.

  My breakfast sloshed around my stomach like the sea in a storm. Less than two days before I had to hand this elusive book to Ellianne, and less than three before Raff put his life on the line.

  Yeah, I definitely wasn’t feeling lucky.

  “Who was the author, again?” the bookstore clerk asked.

  She’d gotten tight-lipped when I’d mentioned the title of Curses and Cures, muttering that good people didn’t mess with curses. I said the book was for a friend, and the woman finally searched for it in her computer.

  “Leah Ladd,” I said.

  I was in a rare bookstore in Bellingham that sold paranormal books. I’d convinced Raff to lend me his car before he headed to the gym and made the drive in under an hour and a half, thanks to lack of traffic, since I was going the opposite direction of rush hour.

  The bookshop’s white cat sat next to the register, its blue eyes trained on me as its tail twitched back and forth. I was surprised it hadn’t run for cover when I’d walked in.

  The bookshop clerk finished typing and gave a small shake of her head. I frowned.

  Maybe I looked as desperate as I felt, because she said, “Let me check in back. I have more records there. One moment.”

  She vanished into the back, the door closing behind her. The cat didn’t move.

  I nervously stared down the cat, hoping this shop would put an end to my ridiculous quest. The woman returned a moment later. I held my breath.

  “Sorry. No book like that. We do have one called Why Curses Aren’t Real Magic.”

  She smiled sweetly but gave me a meaningful look. She clearly didn’t approve of the book I wanted. Maybe her mom had been cursed or something.

  “Oh, well, I don’t need that,” I said, and walked out before she started throwing holy water at me or something.

  I walked around the corner and leaned against the building, frustration bubbling up around me. Another waste of time. I tried not to panic, but it was starting to seem like a very real possibility that I’d never find this stupid book. And worse, that Ellianne had known I wouldn’t and had sent me on a wild goose chase in order to bank even more favors. That didn’t seem like her, but then, I didn’t know her all that well.

  It was after seven am, so I decided to call the man who’d handled Emily Dart’s estate sale.

  He picked up on the third thing, his voice booming, “Yes, this Arthur Dawson, how can I help you?”

  “Hi, Arthur.” I tried to keep my voice from shaking with exhaustion and frustration. “I understand you managed an estate sale for a woman named Emily Dart a couple of years ago.”

  I let that hang in the air.

  “Ah, yes, I believe so,” he said.

  I crossed all of my fingers and toes. “Her granddaughter told me she had a copy of this rare book I’d really like to get my hands on, and I was hoping maybe you’d have receipts and could tell me who bought it. It’s called Curses and Cures by Leah Ladd.”

  “I do have records, but they’re in storage,” he said, “and it’s not really good business for me to divulge the private information of buyers.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I spoke in my sweetest customer service voice. “That makes sense. It’s just, this book was written by an ancestor of mine I discovered while doing a big genealogy project, and I’d really like to flip through it. It’s super rare, and this is the only copy I’ve been able to track down. I promise not to tell the buyer how I found them.”

  Arthur was silent for a long moment.

  “That’s not usually how we do things…” I didn’t say anything, just silently willed him to be cool about this and help me out. “The author is related to you?”

  “Great-great-great-aunt on my mother’s side,” I lied. “It would really mean the world to see if she included the lost family recipe for healing tea.”

  Another pause. Then: “Look, I’ll check the records and get back to you. This number okay?”

  “This number is great,” I said, hoping I didn’t sound as relieved as I felt.

  “Fantastic. I’ll head to my storage unit on my lunch today and see what I can dig up.”

  “Great!”

  I hung up feeling lighter than air. If I could at least find a physical copy of the book, I could worry about how to get it into the faerie’s hands. I got back into Raff’s car and started the drive home.
<
br />   When I got home, I texted Michael, but he didn’t answer. He hadn’t been much of a morning person before he’d been made into a creature of the night, so I never expected a response from him this early, but I figured I should check in and see if he found anything. Just in case Arthur discovered he’d lost his records or changed his mind.

  Satisfied that I’d done pretty much everything in my power to hunt down the book for the morning, I curled up on the sofa, turned on the reality cooking competition Donut Battle, and promptly passed out.

  Chapter 7

  I awoke to someone shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw Raff standing over me, his warm hand on my arm. Light behind his blue-blond hair made him look angelic.

  I jolted upright.

  “What time is it?” I asked, frantic. I’d meant to watch one episode of Donut Battle, not sleep all day.

  “It’s almost noon,” Raff said, face glistening but full of concern. “Don’t you have to work?”

  Oh, crap.

  “Not today,” I said, which was technically true, since I’d quit.

  I tried to tell that part to Raff but it got stuck in my throat. I didn’t think he’d care, but explaining why I’d quit meant telling him about my faerie bargain and the debt I was trying my darnedest to repay.

  “They called you a few times,” he said, gesturing to my phone, which was plugged into the charger and sitting on the coffee table.

  I scooped it up.

  I had three missed called from Yogurt Time, and a text message from my coworker Dia that said simply, “WTF?”

  “You looked at my phone?” I asked, pretending to be scandalized.

  In truth, I was glad there were no visible texts from Michael.

  Raff didn’t smile. “What’s going on?”

  I dropped the phone to my side. Screw it, he deserved at least some fraction of the truth.

  “I quit.”

  I stared at the scuffed wooden coffee table and waited for Raff’s reaction. There were a few seconds of hard silence.