Blood Moon

by A. D. Ryan

  Laughing, my mom graciously declined his offer before heading to the kitchen, where I heard my dad moving around. Dishes clanked together, platters hit the countertops, and a cork was pulled from a bottle of wine while my parents were gone, and soon they rejoined us, bringing a couple of items each to the table. David took the wine from my mother and filled our glasses while Mom and Dad finished setting the table.

  “Everything looks and smells amazing, Mom,” I told her, taking the seat David so gallantly pulled out for me.

  As we all dished up our food, passing it to the right before taking the next item, my dad tried to initiate the conversation. “How did things at the office go after I left? Any progress?”

  I shook my head, my frustration returning. Ever since finding the abandoned nightclub, we’d hit a brick wall. Donovan had been as much help as he could be, and we still checked in often in case the suspects resurfaced there. I wasn’t so optimistic given their reaction according to our witness. If they truly did sense our involvement with the club, it was unlikely they’d go back there looking for future victims.

  “Nothing,” I replied, scooping some broccoli onto my plate. While I still didn’t crave vegetables, they weren’t as unappealing as they were a couple weeks ago. Plus, I didn’t want to hear my mother complaining about the lack of green on my plate. I might be twenty-eight years old, but that didn’t mean she’d stopped mothering me. “Keaton and O’Malley are still digging around, but—”

  “Uh uh,” Mom interrupted in an admonishing tone. “No shop-talk tonight. You know the rules, Keith.”

  The rules.

  Mom had always been proud of what my dad did for a living—what I now do for a living—and even more so since Bobby died. She knew what it felt like to be on the receiving end of bad news, and while we never got closure after his death, she appreciated that we worked hard to give others in similar situations the chance to heal and move on.

  But she didn’t like to hear details over dinner. Ever, actually.

  We never went into specifics, though, because it actually wasn’t allowed. Having always been more of a sensitive soul, Mom liked to look at the world through rose-colored glasses. Especially after Bobby’s unexplained death. She knew what happened in the real world, but she was so empathetic that it affected her deeply. Occasionally she’d ask, but we kept details to a bare minimum, glossing over everything enough that she wouldn’t have nightmares or relive what we’d already been through.

  Some days I struggled with the same thing, but my need to stop it from happening again kept me going.

  “Sorry, dear.” Dad was quick to apologize, reaching over and taking my mom’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

  It always warmed my heart to see those little looks of affection they shared, and I looked across the table with a smirk out of habit, only to find the chair there empty. One would think I’d get used to that empty chair staring back at me after this many years, but I didn’t. Bobby and I always used to exchange a look during one of these moments between our parents. Growing up with so many people whose parents split when we were all younger made us appreciate the strong connection our parents shared. It gave us something to look up to.

  I shook off the twinge of sadness that gnawed at me and picked up my fork, spearing a piece of broccoli. It wasn’t easy to forget, and I didn’t really want to. Even though Bobby had been gone for the last seven years, I still sensed his presence in everything I did. Sometimes more than others. It used to comfort me to think he might be watching over me in some way.

  My last thought gave me pause. Used to? Before I could slough it off as one of those things you said or did without much forethought, my mother’s voice filled the room.

  “So, how are things going, you two?”

  Next to me, David shifted in his seat, turning his head and smiling at me. “Really well.” A pause. “Right?”

  Offering him a smile that felt as genuine as I was capable given what happened the other day, I nodded. “Yeah. I mean, there’s definitely been an adjustment period, but things are good.”

  I saw something in my mom’s eyes—the very thing that had me worried about accepting this dinner invitation in the first place, and I tried to give her that look that told her not to go there. She must have missed it.

  “I’m so happy to hear that.” She pushed her roast beef around her plate before picking up some potatoes. “It’s been so wonderful to see Brooke ready to settle down again.”

  And there it was. That one little word that would open the flood gates of this conversation: “Again.” Prefaced with the words “settle down.”

  I didn’t need to look at David to know his curiosity had been piqued; I felt it billowing off of him. I gripped my fork so tightly, the metal bit into my palms, and I stared nervously at my dinner plate, my heart beating unevenly. When he didn’t say anything right away, I relaxed, thinking that maybe he’d let it go since it was in my past and I’d proven my efforts to move on. With him.

  “Laura, sweetheart,” my dad began, his voice low and uneasy as he poured another glass of wine, polishing off the bottle. “Maybe we shouldn’t—”

  Mom finally realized the potential for how uncomfortable this conversation could turn out, because she nodded. “You’re right,” she agreed. “I didn’t mean to suggest they’re ready to get engaged…”

  Beside me, David choked on a sip of his wine, and my face heated as I clenched my eyes shut. And there it was. David would finally know just how serious Nick and I were, which would only add fuel to the fire of his hatred and jealousy. He’d been pushing for us to come out as a couple for so long, and I knew that he saw marriage in our future. But, after a failed engagement to a man I honestly thought I would spend the rest of my life with, I’d grown quite content with the idea of just living happily ever after with the man I now loved. No piece of paper binding us together. No gathering of friends and family at an overly expensive celebration.

  Just us. Living together. In love.

  That was enough for me, and I figured I could get David to be okay with that as well…until now, that is. Now that he was on the verge of learning the one piece of my past I deliberately shielded him from, all bets were off. He’d want more. Or at the very least, he’d wonder why I didn’t if I’d been able to commit myself to someone else before.

  And he’d have a point. Why shouldn’t I commit to another if it was something I’d done before with someone else? Well, it all stemmed back to how my engagement ended, and the one simple truth remained: I was afraid. I let Nick into my heart completely and he stomped on it when he walked away from us. Yes, he had his reasons, but that didn’t excuse the fact that I was left behind, broken and destroyed. It wasn’t exactly something I wanted to ever relive, so I vowed to never take that step. Why would I set myself up for something like that to happen again?

  Now, deep down, I truly believed that David wouldn’t do that to me—he wasn’t Nick—but the fear still lingered, keeping me from opening that small part of my heart back up. Did I imagine what it would be like to marry David? Sure. More so lately than the first year we were together—or up until a couple weeks ago when my life irrevocably changed—but then those musings shifted into my worst nightmare: David left me with no explanation. He just took off. So I dropped it, burying it as deep as possible.

  And now, there I was, sitting at the table, awkward silence hovering in the air, my heart thundering and my stomach clenching as I struggled to find the words to explain why I hadn’t told him about my failed engagement.

  I couldn’t, though. My cowardice reared its ugly head, and I set my fork down gingerly before pushing my chair back. The legs scraped against the tile floor, the sound obnoxiously echoing off the walls. David stood beside me, and when I met his eyes briefly, I found worry. Hoping to reassure him that I was okay, I smiled. Like before, it didn’t work. But he let me go without a fight. “I’ll be right back,” I said, my tone soft but loud enough that they all heard me. “I’m just goi
ng to grab another bottle of wine.”

  My eyes met my mother’s on my way out of the dining room, and I recognized her remorse. She tried to follow me, but I shook my head, telling her silently that I needed a moment alone.

  From the kitchen, I heard nothing. The awkward silence continued to suffocate them all, and I placed my hands on the countertop, holding myself up as I dropped my head and closed my eyes. I took a deep breath, and the crisp scent of autumn traveled in on a breeze through the open window above the sink, filling my head. It wasn’t the only scent swirling around me, though; with it, I picked up the one scent that still called to me even though I kept trying to ignore its pull.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I grumbled under my breath, pushing off the counter and silently making my way for the patio doors.

  I opened them as quietly as possible and slipped out into the night. It was completely black out, the moon hiding behind a cover of cloud, but I left the light off to keep from alerting my parents and David that I slipped outside for a moment. Plus, I picked up the ability to see better in the dark, rendering the light unnecessary anyway.

  The back deck was empty, but Nick’s scent hung in the dry desert air. I descended the few stairs and walked past the pool, and the minute my feet hit the grass, Nick stepped out from the shadows, hair unruly, jaw more unshaven than usual, black T-shirt fitted to his upper body, and his hands thrust into the pockets of his purposefully ragged-looking jeans.

  “Hey,” he greeted, eyes locked on mine, hard yet concerned at the same time.

  “What are you doing here?” I demanded through clenched teeth, annoyed that he continued to pop up unannounced like this. Sure, there was that small part of me that was happy to see him, but I kept a tight leash on it. I refused to give him the satisfaction. “You realize that stalking a cop probably isn’t the best idea, don’t you?”

  “I’ve been calling. When you didn’t return any of my messages…” He sighed, and I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking. He wasn’t just worried about me, but about what I could have done. To David. “I was concerned.”

  “We’re both fine,” I informed him, my voice cracking at the end, giving me away.

  Nick definitely picked up on it, his eyebrows rising. “Did you…?”

  Unable to meet his gaze, I crossed my arms in front of me defensively and averted my eyes to the left. “He’s fine.”

  Naturally, he didn’t buy it. “What happened?”

  Embarrassed to be having this conversation with my ex about the man I was currently involved with, I buried my reddening face in my hands. “It’s nothing,” I mumbled. “Everything turned out fine.” I was starting to sound like a broken record.

  The warmth of Nick’s touch on my upper arms pulled me from my mortification, his hands moving up and down them in a soothing manner. “What happened?” he repeated in a soft and soothing tone, drawing my confession from me with ease. “Did you lose control and hurt him?”

  Peeking up at him above the tips of my fingers, I shook my head. “Not the way you think,” I mumbled into my hands before dropping them. “We…” I thought back to what happened that night, and the skin all over my body warmed with a blush that I hoped the dark would conceal. What it couldn’t hide was the unexpected shift in my hormones, its heady scent alerting even me, so I didn’t finish explaining everything.

  Understanding and sorrow filled Nick’s expressive eyes, and he took two large steps back. “Oh.”

  “He’s fine, though,” I repeated, sighing and rubbing my hands up and down my arms in an act of self-comfort. “But I’m…struggling with the memory of it. I didn’t even realize I was being that rough.”

  A rumble escaped Nick, and he was quick to quell it. But not before I recognized it for envy. It was obvious that he wanted to tell me how he told me so, but instead, he expressed it with the silent intensity of his stare. Then his eyes turned angry without warning. “As much as I want to hear about how kinky things are in the bedroom now, that’s not why I’m here.”

  My annoyance flared when his concern melted away completely. “Then what the hell do you want?” I don’t know why, but he seemed taken aback by my reaction. “I mean, if you didn’t come here to check up on me, which is kind of the impression that you initially gave off, then what is it? What is so important that you’d interrupt a family dinner?”

  Flustered, Nick stumbled over his words for a second before releasing an aggravated sigh and thrusting his fingers through his hair. I mentally patted myself on the back for even momentarily throwing him off for once. “Look, I didn’t come here to argue with you,” he informed me. “I was concerned about you—still am, if that means anything to you—but I also came to talk to you about that case you’re working.”

  Shocked, I tightened my grip around myself. “Wh-what about it?”

  Back in the house, I heard footsteps, and I looked up to see movement in the kitchen window. It would only be a couple of minutes before whoever was in there found me out here with Nick, so I prodded him again.

  “We need you to back off a bit,” he said, his expression clearly telling me he knew it was a stupid request, and one I obviously couldn’t grant.

  “You can’t be serious.”

  Nick sighed, his eyes moving about as if scanning the darkness for something. He didn’t seem at all threatened. One sniff of the air, and I picked up Jackson’s scent as well as his other pack mates. They weren’t close, keeping their distance, but they were there somewhere. Probably waiting for Nick to return.

  “I realize what it is I’m asking—”

  “Do you?” I interrupted, confused and angry. “We’re trying to solve several murders. Murders, Nick. Murders, I might add, that you told me are tied to my brother’s own unsolved case. And now you want me to just walk away?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head emphatically. “Not walk away, just…back off a bit. Maybe lead them in another direction.”

  “You want me to impede my own investigation?”

  “Believe me when I tell you that you and your team aren’t properly equipped to deal with this. Your investigation is only scaring them off.”

  “Them?” I questioned. “So, you know who they are?” Nick’s silence was all the confirmation I needed. “And why, exactly, do you think we can’t handle this?”

  “Because,” Nick explained, conflict growing in his eyes. “It’s nothing you’ve ever dealt with before, Brooke. It’s…not of this world.”

  “Werewolves,” I offered without a questioning lilt in my tone.

  “In order to keep you safe from them, I can’t tell you just yet,” Nick supplied. “But it’s not other wolves. It’s something else entirely.” Another brief pause before Nick looked up, and when I heard the screen door open slightly, he quickly concluded. “They’re moving on—most of them—so it’s making them harder to track. Your involvement is only complicating matters further, forcing them to lie low.”

  “So, you’re upset that they’re not killing anymore?” His logic didn’t resemble mine.

  “Of course not, but with you guys constantly sniffing around, they’re packing up shop. We are so close to stopping them, but the more interference from the police, the harder it’s becoming.”

  Before I could defend the actions of the department and point out his demands for how ridiculous they were, Nick stepped back into the cover of darkness. Just as he disappeared, warm hands appeared on my shoulders, causing me to jump in surprise. Turning, I found David behind me, and I offered him a smile. Had I not been so wrapped up in my conversation with Nick, I might have sensed him before his arrival startled me.

  “You okay?” he asked, kissing my cheek lightly. I sensed the hesitance behind the gesture, but he didn’t falter, trying to make things better between us.

  It was comforting, and I leaned into it, humming contentedly as the distance between us was momentarily forgotten. “Yeah. I thought I saw something out here when I was in the kitchen
. Figured I should check it out.” It wasn’t a total lie, so I didn’t feel overly guilty keeping the real reason I was out here from him.

  Then I remembered the reason I went into the kitchen, and I turned around to face David, ready to apologize for my total lack of regard when it came to disclosing my past with Nick. “Are you okay? I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I guess I—”

  David stopped me. “You don’t need to apologize. That entire conversation was equally as awkward for me.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  Chuckling, David pushed a length of my hair back over my shoulder, his hand trailing down my arm and making me shiver. When it reached my elbow, he flattened it on my back and pulled me toward him abruptly, exciting me. “Come back inside. Your mom feels terrible and promises to be on her best behavior. No more talk of marriage until we’re ready.”

  My lips fought the smile I forced as David led me back toward the house. Before leading me through the doorway, I stopped him. “David…”

  Seeing the look in my eyes for what it was, he sighed. “Brooke, I know you’re not ready, but I’m willing to wait until you are.” Leaning in, he kissed my forehead. “That’s how much I love you and believe in us.”

  I let him take me back inside. When we returned to the dining room, my mom didn’t allude to my future with David at all—just as promised—and I was grateful for it. Instead, our conversation revolved around the upcoming holiday season. Thanksgiving was only two weeks away, and David was all too eager to talk about his hopes for that day.

  “Well, Brooke and I haven’t really discussed it yet,” he began, reaching over and taking my hand, “but I was thinking we’d host this year. Have you two join us and invite my parents down.”

  I choked slightly on the bite I’d just taken, and pulled my hand from his to grab my wine. David rested his hand on my back, moving it up and down in a soothing manner as I dislodged the piece of roast beef and finally swallowed it. “Sorry,” I said, glancing over at David.

  He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “They want to meet you.”