Moon Bound (The Reluctant Werewolf Chronicles Book 3)

by Tori Centanni

  It couldn’t if we didn’t want an angry faerie crashing the party. “It’ll be quick. Michael will give me a ride after. I’ll be there by ten, I promise.”

  Raff didn’t look convinced. In fact, he looked hurt.

  “I will.”

  “Yeah, okay, sure.” He squeezed the balled sweatshirt in his hands and headed for the stairs.

  “Raff, I swear. I wouldn’t miss tonight for the world.”

  He paused on the steps, foot hanging in the air. “You shouldn’t. For the pack, if nothing else.”

  I highly doubted half the pack ever wanted to see me again and wouldn’t even raise an eyebrow if I missed tonight’s ceremony, but I wasn’t going for them. I was going for Raff.

  I just had to get the steal the book, appease Ellianne by handing it over, and then get to the Orchard. How hard could that be?

  “Did you have to dress like you were going to a Vampire the Masquerade ball?” I asked.

  Michael bowed. “At your service, my lady.” He made sure to show lots of fang. The effect was spine-tingling.

  Wearing the silken vest over his white, puffy-sleeved satin shirt, with his inky dyed hair contrasting with his pale skin, Michael looked like an extra from a vampire movie.

  “If I’m going to play the part, I might as well wear the costume,” he said, smoothing the blue brocade of his vest.

  He definitely looked like what most humans would expect a vampire to look like, though I figured this collector, who’d been at the supernatural auction, was all too aware that most vampires dressed to blend in, not to stand out.

  “What happens if he locks you in a steel cage?” I asked.

  “He won’t get that far. Vampire strength is nothing to mess with.”

  Michael winked. I was glad he was reasonably confident. I had moths zipping around my belly and felt like throwing up. Our plan was for me to walk up to Peter Yates’ house and pretend to offer Michael, a vampire I’d captured, in trade for the book. Then Michael would attack him and keep him busy while I nabbed the book, and we’d get the heck out of there. Simple enough in theory. To my exhausted and overexerted brain in the wee hours of the morning, it had seemed like a suitable plan. Now, though, I was starting to doubt its viability.

  “What if he’s done it before? Maybe he has stakes at the ready.”

  I remembered the noises from his garage. It was possible he was just a jerk who abused his dogs—still not okay—but I’d gotten the feeling he was keeping something else locked up in there.

  “It’ll be fine. Now, finishing touches.” He produced a pair of shiny silver handcuffs, dangling them on one finger.

  “Do I want to ask where you got those?”

  I took them and studied them. They were heavy duty, super-thick cuffs, crafted specifically for vampires to make it harder for them to break free. At least in theory. Michael had assured me he could get out of them in a hurry.

  “Probably not,” Michael answered, holding out wrists. “Take me away, officer.”

  “Do not enjoy this.” I slapped the cuffs around his wrist. There was a chain attached, which would allow me to lead him. His job was act drugged and out of it. I’d tell Peter Yates that I fed the vampire blood laced with silver, Klonopin, and Xanax. Silver didn’t have much effect on vampires unless it got into their blood, and then it could only slow them down. And though they metabolized drugs and alcohol faster than humans, big enough doses of a few heavy hitters would keep them sedate and confused for hours. Long enough for me to transport a vampire to Yates’ house and make the trade, anyhow.

  Now all we had to do was hope Yates believed I was capable of drugging a vampire and that he’d be willing to trade the book for Michael.

  “I really hope this works,” I said, swallowing the butterflies that kept dancing around my throat.

  “It will,” Michael said, giving me a slight smile. “We’ve got this, Charlotte.”

  I seriously hoped so.

  “Ready to act like a zonked-out creature of the night?” I asked.

  “Ready,” he said, and immediately let his face go limp. His jaw hung slack and his eyes glazed over. He looked zombified.

  “Perfect. Let’s go,” I said and began dragging my friend toward Peter’s house.

  Peter answered the door so fast, it was like he’d been waiting eagerly. That was odd, because I hadn’t called to give him a heads up or anything. Michael and I both agreed the element of surprise would work in our favor. We didn’t want to give him more time to think about the situation than necessary.

  The moment Peter laid eyes on Michael, he looked ready to throw a parade. His eyes lit up and he clapped his hands together.

  “Is that… is he….” Peter stammered, stepping back to take in the whole picture, Michael’s ridiculous vampire getup and all. “Is that for me?”

  “You said you’d trade for Curses and Cures,” I said, “so I brought something to trade.”

  “How on earth did you get him?” He reached out toward Michael’s face and Michael’s eyes fluttered and his jaw snapped, but slowly, like sedate animal who was fighting sleep.

  “I gave him blood laced with sedatives and silver. He’s an abandoned newbie vampire, so no one will miss him,” I lied.

  “Is he?” he asked. Now a hint of suspicion passed over his face. “Well, isn’t that lucky?”

  “Not lucky at all. I told you I wanted that book, and I happen to have a contact at Bats who told me about this guy,” I said. “He was only turned last week. Easy enough to get him to drink poisoned blood when he was so desperate for it.” I forced a cunning smile and ignored the roiling in my stomach. “So, do we have a deal or what, because if not, I’d love to find someone else to take this monster off my hands before the drugs wear off.”

  I waited as Peter considered the situation. He took a long time, too. My palms were slick with sweat, and my heart pounded in my chest. If he said no, I didn’t know what I would do. I had a little over three hours until time was up.

  “Well, it’s quite an offer. I suppose for a living vampire, I can part with the book,” he said. I let out a breath but tried not to seem overly eager. “Come on in.”

  He opened the door wide and stepped back. I pulled Michael over the threshold. He shuffled behind me. I made it three steps inside before the acrid smell hit me in the face. Silver, metallic and hot. Panic rose in my throat. I looked to Peter to ask what was going on, but he wasn’t there. Michael, who had snapped to attention, started to say something.

  Hands grabbed me and wrenched me away from Michael. The chain slid out of my slick palms and hit the ground. Peter spun me around so my back was to him, one hand digging into my shoulder. The silver knife was at my throat before I could scream. The blade burned against my skin, even though it wasn’t cutting me.

  “What are you doing?” I screeched.

  Peter Yates laughed. “Getting two treasures for nothing. I know what you are, girl.”

  My heart plopped into my stomach and acid splashed up my throat. My mind raced, and all I could think about was the silver touching my skin. It burned, and worse, if it cut me, I would get silver poisoning and die. And that was if he didn’t just cut my throat and let me bleed out.

  “What?” I finally asked, my brain reeling.

  “I looked you up after you left. Wasn’t hard to find that Charlie the scholar was actually Charlotte the werewolf.” He tsk’d. “You really think I’m easily fooled? A man like me doesn’t survive collecting supernatural treasures if he’s not careful. I discovered what you were and decided to be ready when you came back. And I knew you would come back.”

  “I wasn’t trying to fool you,” I said. “I just want the book.”

  “Well, I just want living specimens for my next and greatest collection. And now I have a werewolf and a vampire.”

  I could hear the smile in his voice. He shifted and then swore. I looked up. Michael was gone.

  “Where did the bloodsucker go?” he demanded, as if he wasn’t
holding me at knife point and I might actually know.

  “I have no idea. You sort of distracted me,” I said evenly. I hoped Michael was getting ready to tear this guy’s throat out. I could practically feel the beating vein beneath my wolf teeth, spilling out hot, coppery blood.

  I shuddered at the thought of how nice that actually sounded. I didn’t want Michael to rip this jerk to shreds. I wanted to turn into a wolf and do it myself.

  “I thought he was drugged.” Peter sounded angry.

  Wow, what a piece of work. He’d decided to double cross me without even bothering to consider I might be smart enough to do the same.

  “I thought you wanted an honest trade,” I quipped.

  Peter growled, but it was a weak, human growl, nothing like the low, throaty growl of a wolf.

  “Come on,” he hissed. “I have stakes in the garage.”

  He tried to shuffle me forward, but I kept my Doc Marten’s planted firmly on the marble ground.

  “Move it, wolf, or I’ll cut you with my silver blade.” He sounded so freaking proud of himself, knowing what would hurt a werewolf, like it wasn’t part of practically every werewolf movie ever.

  I slowly shuffled forward, stalling, as he forced me toward the hall. I caught a glimpse of silver handcuffs stuffed behind an ornate sculpture on a sideboard, but did not point them out to Peter. Wherever Michael was, he was free and ready to attack. Or so I hoped. It didn’t seem like Peter had backup, but who knew what dangers lurked in this house of horrors.

  Peter led me to a brown door with a worn knob. He reached around me with his free hand, knife still against my neck.

  Cold hit me as the door opened, along with the overpowering stench of urine and vomit. He flicked on the light. There was a row of cages lining the back of the garage. They were maybe four feet square but went up to the ceiling, large enough for a person to sit or stand in but never lie down.

  Inside the first cage, a guy sat cross-legged. He’d been stripped naked except for a pair of brown khaki shorts. His hair was long and greasy, and he smelled of sweat and unwashed skin.

  “Who is he?” I asked, almost reflexively.

  “A shifter who won’t shift,” Peter said, disgusted.

  “Screw you!” the guy in the cage spat.

  “But I won’t have that problem with you.” He grabbed my ponytail and pushed me into the garage, letting the door close behind us. “You can’t help but change during the full moon, can you?”

  I couldn’t, but I wasn’t going to confirm that. He dragged me past the shifter’s cage and pulled his keyring off his belt. He fumbled one-handed for the key, trying to keep the knife against my skin while he located the right key.

  The garage door flew open. Peter turned, spinning away from me and dropping the knife as Michael flew at him. Peter jumped out of the way and Michael landed on me. His face was contorted and strange, his mouth open to reveal razor-sharp fangs. Blood thrummed in my ears.

  Michael pushed himself off me and jumped up, chasing after Peter, who’d gone for a shelf at the side of the garage. A stack of stakes was on one shelf, just ready to be used. Who had a collection of stakes? A guy hoping to keep a vampire in a cage, I guessed.

  Peter got a good grip on the stake. Michael rushed him, baring his fangs and hissing. Peter tried to stake Michael, who moved out of the way and tried to go for Peter’s throat. Michael’s mouth was practically on Peter’s neck when Michael went still and fell to the ground, paralyzed by the stake in his heart.

  I screamed.

  Peter panted and stared down at the now-paralyzed vampire.

  “Don’t just stand there,” the shifter behind me said. He’d gotten to his feet and was now watching this chaos unfold.

  I shook myself and bent down to grab the knife Peter had dropped. The handle was smooth, maybe ivory, which was kind of icky but better than silver, which would have burned my hand. Even holding the silver close to me made me itch. Peter grinned, still watching Michael like he might pop back up.

  “You didn’t really drug him,” Peter said, breathless. He sounded almost impressed. “Clever ruse. Unfortunately for you, I’ve been ready to hold monsters like you for years.”

  “And unfortunately for you, I’ve faced monsters worse than you before,” I said.

  He laughed. Seriously laughed at me. If I wasn’t already boiling over with rage and adrenaline, that would set me over the top.

  Peter picked up another stake and inched toward me. Werewolves healed faster than humans, but the stake could still do serious damage, and it would hurt like heck.

  He stepped over Michael’s prone form. “Well, wolf girl, show me what you’ve got,” he taunted.

  He wanted me to come at him so he could disarm me. I didn’t fall for it. Instead, I took a step back. As he moved closer, I continued backing up until I was near the cage. The bars were thick and heavy as I backed against them, close to the shifter.

  “Get the keys,” he whispered, low so Peter wouldn’t hear.

  I nodded. That was the plan. Well, part of it.

  Peter kept coming. When he got close, I growled. I gave it my all, growling like I wanted to tear out his throat. It wasn’t a stretch. I absolutely did. The wolf inside me howled to get her claws into this man’s flesh.

  He hesitated. Only for a split second, but it was long enough. I flew forward and aimed low, slamming the knife into his thigh. He screamed and tried to stab me with the stake. I ducked around him and ran to Michael. I’d pulled a stake from a vampire’s chest before, and I knew it would take a good amount of effort.

  Peter was moving fast across the room despite his injury.

  I grabbed the stake with both hands and, leveraging my weight with my foot against Michael’s chest, I pulled as hard as I could. All those hours lifting weights with Raff (well, more hours than I ever had before, anyhow) paid off as the stake came out with a wet pop! I swayed backward. Michael’s eyes snapped open.

  Peter reached me, brandishing the stake.

  Michael moved so fast he was practically a blur. One second, he was on the ground, coming to. And the next, he was flying at Peter, knocking him to the ground. He wrestled the stake from his hand and then his fangs went for Peter’s throat.

  “Don’t!” I yelled. Michael stopped. Even Peter looked surprised. “Just knock him out, okay?” I didn’t know why the thought of watching Michael drink his blood skeeved me out, but it did, even though the wolf inside me very much wanted a turn at the guy’s throat myself. “We can’t leave him here exsanguinated. The neighbors will ask questions.”

  “He has a guy in a cage, dudes, I think there are already tons of questions,” the shifter said.

  Michael licked his lips, his tongue stopping over his lip ring. But then he nodded. Instead of biting Peter’s neck, he slammed the man’s head against the cement floor, rendering him unconscious.

  “Thanks,” I said to Michael.

  “It’s your mission,” Michael said. “But I do recommend we don’t leave him alive.”

  Cold trailed down my spine. I knew Michael was right. I wasn’t a killer—neither, as far as I knew, was Michael—but I knew what happened when you left determined men who wanted to kill you alive. They kept coming after you and hurt those around you, relentlessly and without mercy.

  “Just get me out of lockup, kids, and I will happily take care of it,” the shifter said.

  I bent down and grabbed the keys from Peter’s belt.

  Chapter 15

  “How did you end up in here?” I asked the shifter, who’d told me he was named Dalan.

  I went through the keys one by one, trying to find the key that fit. There were at least fifty keys on the ring and they were all approximately the same size, which didn’t make it easy. I’d already been at it for what felt like a small eternity.

  Michael was standing near the third cage, his lips curled in disgust as he stared at the small space that Peter had wanted to keep us in.

  “He tricked me,” Dala
n said. “I was working as a contractor, doing general handyman stuff. I don’t know how he found me or learned what I was, but he hired me to fix his dishwasher. When my back was turned, I felt this sharp pain in my head and then he tased me. I woke up in this cage.” He shook the bars. “I don’t know what it’s made of, but it was designed to hold those like us who might have the strength to break out of a normal cage.”

  “That’s messed up,” Michael said.

  “Yeah, man, it is. I’d only told a few people in Seattle that I’m a tiger shifter. We’re rare, you know? But I met some other shifters and felt safe sharing my secret with them. And I went to this bar a few times, Crow. Guess it’s popular with the shifter crowd.” He shook his head ruefully. “Maybe he learned about me there.”

  “How long have you been here?” I asked, stunned. From how ripe he smelled, he hadn’t had access to a shower in over a week.

  “Sixteen days. I’ve been counting.” He nodded to the floor, where he’d scratched tick marks in the corner of the cement. “At first, he kept trying to get me to shift, but I refused. I thought maybe I could convince him he’d made a mistake and that I was human. No dice.”

  The key I was trying turned and the lock clicked. The cage came open. Dalan hurried out, glad to be free. He stretched and sighed with relief.

  “God, it feels good to be out. He let me out sometimes to use the restroom, but only after meals. Pretty sure he was drugging me, because I always felt too wonky to fight back.” He set his gaze on the still figure across the garage, a dark yearning in his expression. “But not today. Today, I’m ready to fight back.”

  “I should get the book,” I said, holding up the keys. “That’s the thing I came for,” I explained to Dalan.

  “Get whatever you want, sweetheart. This guy won’t be around to miss it.”

  Michael and I hurried out of the garage, leaving Dalan to whatever revenge he wanted to exact. In a perfect world, Peter Yates would be arrested and jailed for the rest of his sad human life, but with supernaturals involved, it would never happen that way. No shifter was going to go to the mortal cops or testify in court. Supernaturals preferred to dole out justice themselves.