Blood Moon

by A. D. Ryan

  The underlying implication to his answer caused my heart to strain despite the ferocity of its unusual rhythm, and my lips curled up into an angry snarl. Nick sat up, possibly sensing my escalating anger. “Easy, Brooke,” he said, his voice no longer holding a smug note, but one of concern. “You need to harness that before you do something you’ll regret. Deep breaths, baby.”

  “Don’t,” I snarled through gritted teeth, my self-control starting to slip away inch by fragile inch, “call me that.” Warmth traveled under my skin, which prickled and crawled as I grew more agitated, and my hands trembled as rage consumed me. It was a feeling I recognized, and it didn’t take long to make the connection to last night…right before everything went blank.

  Nick’s eyes grew even more serious, and he pushed himself up off the bed, slowly rounding the end of it. “Okay, I’m sorry. You’re right. I was out of line.” His voice remained steady—calm—and he took a few steps toward me.

  My eyes betrayed my loyalty to David again, and I glanced down at Nick’s naked lower half. Surprised and horrified with myself, I found my desire for him awakened, burning through my veins like wildfire. It pushed my anger aside for the moment, and I reveled in the feeling. Something drew me to him against my better judgment, and I knew he sensed it from his position several feet away, because I saw the same yearning in his darkening eyes. I shouldn’t have felt this way, but this went beyond simple want. This felt deeper. It felt familiar. Primal.

  “What”—I took a deep, unsteady breath through my nose—“happened?” The prickling sensation continued as Nick stepped even closer, stopping once he reached his dresser to grab a pair of long pants to pull on. As he covered himself up, I noticed his upper body was covered in pink scratches similar to mine, and bile churned in my stomach when I realized that we must have gotten carried away. Knowing that we woke up naked in bed together only pushed me toward this conclusion, and I couldn’t help but feel even guiltier about what we likely did.

  “Did we…?” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question that scorched the tip of my tongue.

  That cocky, one-sided smirk returned to Nick’s face as he perched himself on the edge of his messy bed. “Have fun?” he quipped with an arched brow. “Well, I know I haven’t had that much fun in years. You’ve got quite the bite.”

  My heart dropped like a lead weight into my roiling stomach, and my legs threatened to give out beneath me. I clutched the sheet tighter to my chest and looked away from him, noticing with tunnel-visioned clarity the two sets of muddy footprints that covered his pale laminate floors. Ours. They’re ours. I knew this because I saw a brief flash of the two of us stumbling naked down the hall in the darkness, seemingly intoxicated and laughing with blood trickling from the corners of our mouths. The image slipped away into the dark recesses of my mind.

  Holding the sheet against me with my left hand, I pinched the bridge of my nose with the thumb and forefinger of the other and clenched my eyes shut. “I don’t…I don’t remember what happened. How is that possible?” The question wasn’t directed toward him. I was merely thinking out loud, but he answered anyway.

  “Memory loss is common the first time.”

  Confused and concerned, my gaze snapped back to his, only to find his forehead furrowed with remorse. “What do you mean, ‘the first time’? Did you… Did you drug me?” I seethed, glaring accusingly at him.

  Looking more than a little offended, he held his hands in front of him in some sort of surrender. “Whoa. Back the hell up, Brooke. Did I drug you? Are you serious? I love you…” His confession left me breathless, and he quickly backpedaled, running his dirt-covered fingers through his hair. “Loved.”

  The pounding in my head returned, but it traveled down my neck and into my left shoulder where it settled and burned. “Nick,” I whispered, my tone taking on an air of pleading. Before I could ask him about last night again, the tremble in my knees turned a little more severe, and I slid down the wall as they eventually buckled beneath me.

  Nick crossed the room in a hurry, wrapping his arms around my shoulders. He grabbed a corner of the sheet and draped it around my shoulders to cover me completely as he led me toward the bed to sit down. Without thinking, I rested my head on his shoulder and tried with everything I had to recall anything from the missing hours in my brain. His hand moved up and down my back, comforting me, and I shivered as the tips of his fingers occasionally grazed the skin above the drape of the sheet.

  It was easy to get lost in the familiar sensation of being wrapped in Nick’s arms. The way my body fit against his, the musky way he smelled—like warmth and nature and man—and the way his lips felt pressed against the top of my head took me back to a time when things were simple. When Bobby was alive. I held onto this feeling in the wake of my confused state, because it helped keep me grounded.

  I inhaled deeply, smelling the nutrient-rich soil that coated our bodies as well as the subtle notes of rain and clipped grass, and it forced the same images as before: the moon in a pitch black sky, the amber eyes and white teeth of the wolf as it lunged for my throat…no, wait. Upon digging into my dream a little deeper, I saw that it wasn’t my throat, but that of another wolf. One with a red-brown coat and yellow-green eyes.

  That was as far as the image seemed to go, though, and it both frustrated and unnerved me, because something in the depths of my mind told me—screamed at me—that this wasn’t just the lingering remnants of a dream, but a memory. I closed my eyes again, trying to force my thoughts back to the two wolves. Deep down I knew this was important, but it didn’t happen no matter how hard I tried.

  Nick sighed, and I snapped back to reality, pushing myself away from him until my back was pressed against the simple wooden headboard of his bed. I clutched the sheet to my body, pulling my knees to my chest and noticing the dirt and grass stains all over my feet.

  “Please,” I pleaded quietly, the confusion weighing heavily on me. “Nick, what did we do?”

  Heaving a deep sigh, Nick leaned forward and rested his forearms on his thighs. “Over the next few hours—maybe even days—your memory will return.”

  I shook my head slowly and thrust my fingers through my hair. I clutched it tightly at the top, the sting travelling down my spine. “I don’t have the next few days, Nick. I have a life…a boyfriend. I need to know. I deserve to know.”

  He sighed again, dropping his eyes to the bed between us, but not before I caught what looked like disappointment flashing in them. “We didn’t have sex,” he assured me. I believed him. While all the evidence could prove that we must have slept together, the tenor of his voice was all the proof I needed to know he was telling me the truth.

  Of course, the fact that our clothes were nowhere to be found and the bedroom was covered in bits of mud and grass still left a lot of unanswered questions.

  “But we…” I paused, still confused and trying to wrap my head around this piece of information. “If we didn’t sleep together,” I said quietly, my eyes slowly meeting his again, “then what happened?”

  His eyebrows pulled together, and a heavy silence filled the air between us. Seconds passed by, but the weight of the situation made time feel like it stretched on infinitely. He looked exactly how I felt—minus the confusion, because something told me he knew more than I did about last night. His distress was evident in the heavy creases of his forehead and the darkening of his eyes, though, and as I watched him carefully, waiting for his reply, it was the first time since he re-inserted himself back into my life that I really saw him.

  Not only had his body filled out and his hair gotten a little longer, but there was a sadness in his eyes—one that I recognized all too well—and it made me wonder if he was still as deeply affected by what happened to Bobby as I was. We continued to stare at each other, and I lost myself in the depth of his blue-green eyes, admiring how they faded to a bright amber color around his pupil. I don’t think I’d ever noticed this before.

  He blinked, breaking t
he trance I’d fallen into, and I held my breath when he opened his mouth to speak. I don’t know what I expected him to say, but what came out of his mouth wasn’t it.

  “You changed.”

  Chapter sixteen | denial

  “Changed?”

  Nick stared at me like he expected me to understand immediately, and I waited in silence for him to elaborate. I didn’t know what took him so long, but I grew tired of waiting. “You need to give me a little more than that,” I snapped. “You can’t just come back into my life after seven years and tell me I’ve ‘changed.’”

  Frustrated—which was a feeling I wholeheartedly related to—Nick rubbed his hand over his face and turned toward me, bringing one of his legs up onto the mattress. “No,” he started, bringing his intense gaze to mine. “That’s not what I mean.”

  “Then what?” I impatiently prodded. “I don’t understand, Nick.” My chin quivered and warm tears stung my eyes.

  His expression softened, and he scooted toward me on the bed. My first instinct was to go to him and seek comfort, but my second was to move away from him. I did neither. “What can you remember from last night?” he asked gently.

  Everything played out in my head again before I replied. “I was with my team at that club—”

  “Gianna’s?” I nodded, and Nick growled in frustration. “Damn it, Brooke, I told you not to go there!” he boomed.

  “It’s my job, Nick,” I argued, getting off point. “Anyway, I remember feeling overwhelmed and a little sick, so I went outside for some fresh air. I…I ran, and I kept running, and that’s it. Everything else is kind of fuzzy.”

  I could see he was still upset about my going against his demand—not that he was in any position to tell me where I could and could not go—but he dropped it. For now. I had this strong feeling he’d bring it up again before we were done.

  “Did you dream?” he asked.

  I found the question odd, but I placated him with a simple, “Yes.”

  “What about?”

  “I’m not sure what my dreams have to do with how I wound up naked in your bed, Nick,” I fired back, annoyed that he seemed more interested in my dreams than helping me figure out what the hell happened to me.

  “Just answer the question, Brooke. I promise it’s relevant.”

  “Wolves,” I supplied, annoyance haloing the word. “I dreamt about wolves. I’ve dreamt about the damned things for almost two weeks. Ever since my attack.”

  Nick shrugged, dropping his face, but keeping his eyes locked on mine. “And you never once asked yourself why you’ve been having these dreams?”

  I dropped my knees in front of me, crisscrossing my legs and leaning away from the headboard to get in his face without getting too close. “I was traumatized. I was attacked in the park one night, remember?”

  “That’s not why you’re dreaming about them, Brooke,” he informed me. I laughed humorlessly, shaking my head and leaning back again as I clutched the sheet to my chest. “And what you think was a dream last night… well, it wasn’t.”

  Confused, my eyebrows pulled together and my face screwed up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  Nick looked nervous as he continued to stall his explanation, and it pissed me off. With an aggravated growl, I threw my legs over the edge of the bed, but the sheet tangled and I stumbled. Nick was quick to grab my arm and keep me from falling. I tried to yank it away from him, but his grip was strong, and he held me tight, locking his eyes with mine.

  Breathing heavily, I was pulled into the depth of his stare, admiring the amber rings around the inner edge of his aqua-colored irises until they seemed overtaken. Something clicked into place just then, the amber color sparking a memory of eyes the same color against sandy-brown fur and a night sky. My eyes widened as I stepped back, forcing him to release my arm.

  “No,” I whispered, shaking my head in disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

  “Is it, Brooke? Think about it.”

  “Are you high?” I demanded, ignoring the beginning niggle in the back of my mind that ordered me to hear him out. “What exactly are you trying to say? That I’m—what?—a werewolf?”

  Nick’s silence told me that he believed this, and I laughed hysterically. “You’ve lost your damn mind,” I told him through my fit of laughter, but he remained serious, and this sobered me. “Oh, god. You actually believe this is possible, don’t you?”

  “You wanted me to tell you what happened, and I am. That night in the woods…it was no ordinary wolf that attacked you. Deep down, you know this. You just refuse to admit it to yourself.”

  I tried to tell myself that he was wrong—that he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about—but that little feeling kept pushing through my denial. It clawed its way to the surface, until my dreams from last night resurfaced.

  At first, the colors seemed wavy and warped, and my vision looked tunneled again. It was disorienting at first, but I quickly adjusted. Trees snapped by at an alarming rate, and when I looked down, I didn’t see human feet, but paws covered in red fur disrupting the dirt, leaves, and grass…

  I gasped, backing up until I slammed into Nick’s dresser, and I looked up at him to see him waiting patiently for me to piece it all together and believe it.

  “Tell me what you remember,” he urged gently.

  “I…I’m not sure.” I dove back into the vision, finding this wolf in the middle of the desert.

  A bush to the right rustled and a low growl filled the air. It was confusing and the red wolf seemed taken by surprise. A darker, almost brown wolf stepped out, its yellow eyes wide and curious, and its pink tongue hanging out the side of its mouth in a way that seemed non-threatening. This didn’t stop the red wolf from leaping anyway, its instinct to survive taking over. I didn’t understand how I was able to feel what this wolf did or why I saw things from its point of view, but, like a runaway train, there was no stopping the images from playing out in my mind.

  With a loud growl from the red wolf, they collided before rolling through the dirt as both wolves fought for dominance. Teeth snapped and feral growls filled the forest, causing birds and other critters to flee. Fur flew every which way and finally the red wolf’s teeth sunk in at the apex of the darker wolf’s neck and shoulders. It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, and for some odd reason, I felt the memory of warm blood wash over my tongue. Before the red wolf could bite down harder, the brown one fought back, its teeth piercing its attacker’s right shoulder and causing it to yelp…

  The sting breached the barrier to reality, bringing me back to the here and now, and I looked down at my now-throbbing right shoulder. There were already-healing teeth marks amongst the myriad of other pink wounds that had almost fully healed. They were sensitive to the touch, and just as the first of several tears fell, Nick took my hand, pulling it toward him and pressing it over the wounds at the apex of his neck and shoulder. They were warm to the touch, my palm tingling, and a bizarre twinge of guilt paralyzed me.

  If what he’s saying is true, I did that.

  No. It was impossible.

  He was feeding me a bullshit story. He had to be. I didn’t care how vivid and real the dreams over the last couple weeks had felt, none of this could be real.

  Can’t it? a voice from deep in my head inquired, trying to make itself known as I continued to pass off Nick’s ramblings as those of a crazy person. Denial flooded my entire body again, muting any progress I might have made toward accepting what I’d just learned, and my labored breathing filled the room. My fingers traced the upraised pink marks along his strong neck and shoulders, following them down his chest, and I clenched my eyes shut as hot tears streamed silently down my cheeks.

  “Brooke,” Nick whispered, bringing his large hand up to cup my face. His thumb brushed the wetness from my cheek while his fingers reached around the back of my neck and tangled in my hair.

  Even though I shouldn’t have, I leaned into his touch and allowed him to pull me forward
. His eyes remained locked on mine, and I could tell that he understood exactly what I was going through.

  Whatever that was. I still wasn’t even sure I understood it.

  Confusion clouded my judgment as he pulled me even closer. We stood so close, I could feel the heat from of his body, smell the lingering sweat on his skin. Every breath I took filled my lungs with a heavenly scent. It wasn’t just the scent that was uniquely Nick, but something else I couldn’t quite place.

  It wasn’t until I looked deep into his eyes and felt the way one of his hands gripped my hip that I figured it out. Apparently, along with fear and excitement, I was capable of picking up the scent of his lust and desire.

  The fog of Nick’s desire blanketed me in an instant, and it was beyond inappropriate, but I couldn’t help but fantasize about kissing him. I was still angry and hurt about our past, not to mention whatever happened last night, but the urges were strong. It all felt beyond my control.

  As Nick moved closer, my skin warmed and goosebumps rippled up my arms and down over the rest of my body. It was all so intense, but the minute his soft lips brushed against mine, reality slapped me, forcing me to stumble away from him.

  David.

  Sniffling, I held the sheet around me while harshly tugging at the roots of my hair. “I-I have to go,” I murmured, my voice hoarse and cracking with every confusing emotion that still coursed through my body.

  Denial. Possibility. Desire. But most prominently, guilt.

  “Brooke, we should talk about this,” Nick said, taking a step back and giving me some much-needed space. “You don’t understand how serious this is.”