A Killing Moon

by Alexis D Craig

  He stilled behind her, and for a moment she wondered if she’d hurt his feelings or if he was going to turn away and go back to his side of the bed. Instead he simply sighed and kissed the back of her neck. “For the record, I’m not sure my heart can take you being any more beautiful.”

  Chapter Twenty- One

  CORA

  Thankfully the heaviest parts of the previous day’s shots had worn off, leaving her more or less in fighting form. Good thing, too, since she positively hated the whole hothouse flower routine, and she had shit to do.

  Including shopping for a new dress before the king’s release from the hospital. Though it hadn’t been explicitly stated, she and Finn assumed this would be the date they debuted the engagement ring, his paternal grandmother’s and purple was all he’d told her, and she knew those pictures would be shots seen around the world.

  Accompanied by members of the Guard handpicked by Xander and Devon, she visited numerous salons and stores that specialized in couture in search of the perfect specimen.

  “What does one wear when they commit treason?” she murmured to herself as she sat by herself in the salon and the clerk brought out yet another sheath dress.

  “I’m sorry, ma’am?” The young lady who’d been so patient with her as she looked at and rejected all the selections. She wasn’t normally this indecisive but prepping for her first official press conference with the royal family was a big damn deal. It was one thing for an impromptu luncheon. It’s another entirely for a planned event, in front of the entire shifter kingdom, where it was likely she’d be announced as the fiancée of the newly installed crown prince.

  A glance at her watch, a delicate, diamond Chopard affair her mother had gifted her when she graduated high school and worked perfectly for a cover like this, said she was running low on time if she was going to do her hair and makeup appropriately. “Shoes please.”

  “Of course, ma’am.”

  * * *

  FINN

  The butterflies in his stomach were rapidly transmuting into a squadron of angry hornets, the agitated buzz a vibration just under his skin.

  For her part, though, Cora was the soul of cool. From the moment she’d returned from the atelier with her clothes, she’d dressed, and they were headed to the hospital, she was as pressed as a new suit, perfection walking. He would not want to play poker against her, because that poker face was professional grade and under other circumstances, more than a little frightening.

  In the back of the SUV, he fumbled with the antique ring box, dropping the blemishless sterling silver cube in the footwell in front of her. “Fucking hell,” he groused as he knelt down to get the box before pressing it into her hands. “Here.”

  He watched her trace the emblem on the lid, the engraved crest of House Lupine, her perfectly manicured nails following each line and whorl. When she opened it, she gasped, dark eyes big and round as she took in the three-and-a-half carat oval amethyst surrounded by twenty-eight seed pearls set in a gold ring nestled in obviously old blue velvet. It was Victorian, perfectly faceted, and absolutely breathtaking. Just like the woman holding it.

  “Finn,” she breathed, his name on her lips an exclamation as much as an exhalation.

  “Well?” he prompted as he clambered back into his seat. “Put it on.”

  Cora reared back, brows down in confusion. “I’m sorry?”

  “What? We needed an engagement ring to sell this, so there it is. You don’t like it?”

  She blinked at him a few times like she was trying to focus, mouth opening and closing like she had things to say but better angels kept intervening. “You… don’t want to—you just want me to put it on?”

  “Well, I—-” He swallowed hard as he felt a sudden heat burning in his cheeks and down his neck. “I just thought… that is, I thought because we—” he held out a hand gesturing vaguely, feeling helplessly mortified.

  Slowly the warmth in her expression crystalized, hardening until it looked like she was happy, but he could feel in his soul that she was not, and he had no idea why. “Right. Of course. My bad.” She took the ring and slipped it onto her finger with no preamble and no further commentary.

  As she stared out the window, Finn felt the overwhelming urge to apologize. “Should I have—”

  “No!” she cut him off decisively. “No, it’s fine.” Her gaze fell to the ring sitting perfectly on the third finger of her left hand. “Just kinda reminded me of my first marriage proposal.”

  The last part, said so softly only a wolf could hear it over the hum of road noise, broke his heart and told him exactly how badly he’d messed up. “I’m sorry—” he started, reaching for her hand.

  “Should I tell your father it was glorious and romantic?” she pulled her hand just out of his reach and didn’t even acknowledge his apology.

  He huffed a laugh, as self-conscious and embarrassed as he’d ever been in front of her. “No need to lie to the man. You can tell him I bumbled my way through it like I do most things involving beautiful women. Badly.”

  “Women? Plural?” At his wide-eyed sputtering, she giggled and took his hand. “You do this type of thing often, do you?”

  “Killing me outright would be kinder,” he pouted as they pulled into the underground garage and headed to the private elevator.

  “But not near as much fun.” She kissed his cheek as they boarded the elevator, and from there, they were the picture of a happy couple. She floated next to him swathed in glorious purple silk that wrapped around her luscious curves to perfection and made her dark skin luminous, hair twisted up and into a bun that was in no way demure, showing off her long neck and her amethyst necklace and earrings that effortlessly matched her ring and his tie. Cora was a vision, and he was too wound up to appreciate it fully.

  He was too busy focusing on the next crisis looming on the horizon: his father’s press conference. Finn was under no delusion as to how this would proceed. The look on his father’s face when they’d told him of the pregnancy all but sealed his fate, today he would become the crown prince. What happened from there was anyone’s guess.

  When they were announced at the door of his hospital room, she took his hand and smiled up at him, beaming like she really was his girlfriend and for a moment, he almost let himself believe it. Almost. And then he remembered they were here to commit treason on behalf of the kingdom and lying to a dying old man and he’d get all wound up again.

  King Niall wanted to present a united front as a family to ease the worries of the shifter kingdom as a whole. It was part of the job, he’d say when he had to go on camera and reassure the people. Part of ruling was bringing calmness and surety to dark and insecure times. The impending death of a monarch didn’t get much darker.

  Finn squired Cora about, taking her first to his father, who embraced her in a hug after looking at her hand. His smile of approval and remarkable exuberance were shocking to the advisors in attendance including Marius LeStrange and his son Mos. If she felt concern over speaking with them again, she didn’t show it. Again Finn couldn’t help but marvel at her icy cool demeanor. She moved like she was bulletproof and knew it, and he absolutely believed she was.

  Especially when his father casually mentioned Cora’s status as expecting an heir to the throne.

  Finn had never seen a roomful of people straighten up and fall mute so quickly. Astonishingly enough, Marius was the first to recover his composure, offering a hearty congratulations and a first handshake. The fact a Corvid would be consort to the king was not lost on him at all, Finn figured, and he was nothing if not a calculating man. Mos looked like he’d swallowed a porcupine, pointy end first, but was also congratulatory, nonetheless.

  That was a conversation he hoped to be privy to.

  He wondered how they’d feel when they saw the real her, knowing she was more than his fiancée but their estranged family as well. Well, Mos knew, but his opinions were still up in the air. Slipping an arm around her waist, he hugged her to his side,
as much a show of possession as a show of solidarity for her. Regardless of everything else going on, he would support her, and needed her to know that.

  After that, everyone in the room pretty much got onboard, with the press secretary finalizing spellings and pertinent information for the formal announcement from the palace, and even a first picture together as an officially sanctioned couple by the royal photographer. There were things that needed to be discussed, interviews with the media to coordinate, stories they wanted told versus ones they wanted to keep for themselves. It was incredibly surreal, and then Brendan arrived.

  He should have been there when Finn and Cora arrived, but as it was, he in his funerary chic slid in the door with Aunt Gwen in tow immediately prior to their scheduled departure. The intent was to have the press conference on the steps of the hospital, and then leave the rest of the day to make preparations for coronation and now the royal wedding.

  Of course, it would have been better to have a minute to speak with Brendan about this rather than just spring it on him, but Finn wasn’t the one making the rules. Their father had never suffered lateness gladly.

  The squall line of press gathered outside in the late afternoon chill was immense and just seeing that many people as witnesses to his deception made his stomach drop. Thankfully, Cora was right by his side with an affectionate squeeze at his waist and a beaming smile. He positioned himself next to Brendan, as it was the easiest way to keep at least one person between Aunt Gwen and Cora. He wasn’t worried about the spy’s ability not to start anything, but from experience, he could not say the same of his aunt.

  Of course, he would have preferred to be on the other side of the planet than his brother, but he could suck it up and behave like an adult for their father’s sake.

  King Niall looked surprisingly spry as he stepped up to the bank of microphones in his long slate cashmere coat and scarf. He had always had an air of restrained refinement about him that had dimmed in the recent months as his illness accelerated. But now, it appeared to be making a comeback and it brought Finn’s heart joy, even if the reason wasn’t exactly kosher.

  “Good afternoon. I’d like to thank the many people who reached out to my family to offer prayers and comfort these last couple days. Your ongoing support has been greatly appreciated. Rumors of my demise have been greatly exaggerated.” He paused to catch his breath as a chuckle wound its way through the throng of reporters. “To that end, I have wonderful family news I’d like to share with you all. Miss Cora Westgate, of Philadelphia, has accepted a proposal of marriage made by Prince Finnegan of House Lupine, my youngest son. I would like to take this opportunity to formally welcome her to the family,” he glanced over his shoulder at them with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “and to announce a change in the order of succession.”

  The collective gasp that went through the crowd was drowned out by the sounds of both Aunt Gwen and Brendan choking on air. Questions burst forth in a torrent from the journalists, but all fell silent at his raised hand.

  “In addition to announcing the crown prince’s engagement, I have permission from the family, to my great joy, that I am to be a grandfather. Under the rule of Primo Progenitor, the same rule that allowed me to ascend to the throne as your king, Finnegan by continuing the royal bloodline, is now His Royal Highness, the Crown Prince of Therantia. To be clear, this decision is not in response to the ongoing investigation into the suspicious death of Miss Bedelia Fielding.”

  “Thieving son of a bitch!”

  Brendan roared and yanked back on Finn’s arm, turning him into the fist he had flying toward his jaw. The taste of fresh blood on his tongue brought out his fangs as Finn snarled and snapped at his brother’s attempt for a follow up hit, shredding the sleeve of his coat. Incensed, wild-eyed, Brendan turned to rail against the king, only to find Finn standing firmly between them prepared to defend their father to the death if necessary.

  “Don’t you dare talk about our mother like that,” he warned, claws out and ready to rip into his flesh at the slightest provocation. “Time and place, Bren, and this is neither.”

  Eyes bulging, teeth out, shoulder seams ripping as his chest heaved. “Fuck your time and place! You and you whore conspired to take this from me, and this will not stand!” He snarled at Cora, who, surprisingly enough, did not react beyond shifting her eyes as the deposed prince was set upon by his aunt and several members of the Guard who dragged him away. “I will have my day!”

  Cora pressed a handkerchief to his lip he hadn’t even noticed was bleeding as a hush fell over the crowd, no one daring to speak until the SUV containing the irate wolf had left the premises.

  “My son’s outburst notwithstanding,” King Niall picked back up like nothing had even happened, “this a joyous day for our family, and the shifter kingdom at large. Thank you all, again, for your support.” The moment he stepped away from the mics, they were barraged by a rising tide of questions as the Day and Night Watch Guards surrounded them and herded them toward the waiting vehicles.

  “That could have gone better,” Finn murmured as Cora tilted his chin to attend to his bruised jaw.

  She hummed in agreement, pressing a kiss to the uninjured corner of his mouth. “Could have gone worse, though.”

  He sighed, leaning back in the seat and cuddling her against him in his lap, his cheek against her forehead. “You’re right. You could’ve shot him.”

  “There is that.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  AUNT GWEN

  She wished she could say the screaming was unexpected as she came into the palace via her private entrance. Ahead of being the dowager duchess, she was the older sister of the king and as such afforded certain liberties that others would likely not be. One of which was a private entrance in a sequestered part of the palace that was otherwise unoccupied. It was an entire wing for her, as if giving her that instead of her rightfully deserved crown would appease her. Still, it kept her close to court, and the throne, and that was exactly as she’d planned.

  The boys’ mother dying had been exactly the boon she’d needed positioning her exactly as she wished to be. Also exactly as she’d planned. For Brendan, so desperately heartbroken at the loss, Gwen was a guide, a mentor, a mother figure, among other things who loved and supported him even when he made decisions others found selfish, or even downright reprehensible. She was his rock, and more importantly, she had his ear.

  There was damn little in the future king’s life that she didn’t know about, and that was by design. Sometimes it was to foster connections he’d need later in his reign, and sometimes simply so she could have leverage over him when such things were required. Such was the case in that moment as she wandered down the hallway toward her darkened drawing room stepping over disembodied limbs and splatters of blood on damn near every available surface.

  While the wolf in her was disciplined enough to overlook the terrified shrieks and pained wailing, the smell… ye gods, the smell was another matter entirely. Copper heavy and rich with proteins and adrenaline. Her fur and fangs were out by the time she hit the door.

  Brendan’s wolf was rangy, tall, unusually so at almost nine feet, black fur and bright green eyes. Well, normally black fur now matted in clumps of drying gore from his snout almost all the way to his tail. His was imposing figure even on all fours.

  Currently he stood in the shadows by the cold fireplace at the far end of the room, up to his shins in bits and bobs and people’s parts. He pulled his face from his latest kill with a snarl at the sound of her claws clicking against the hardwood. The blood dripping from his fangs only added to the horrific tableau.

  “Put those away,” she murmured as she surveyed the damage. Thank goodness all the curtains were drawn and the shutters long sealed. She left her Guards outside her wing of the palace, knowing they could only be paid to overlook so much. So far, she counted four torsos, nine legs, and three arms. “Is there any housekeeping staff left?”

  He grumbled instead of
speaking, biting into the flesh of a thigh defiantly, green eyes following her acutely as she did a circuit of the room. Brendan could be this way sometimes, petulant, entitled. It was a difficult set of traits to temper given that he was the crown prince and thus entitled to a great deal, however, he did not get to behave that way with her.

  Gwen chuffed, a quick almost-howl that brought him snapping to attention. He watched as she clicked her claws at him and indicated, moving to heel at her side like a good boy. So long as she reminded him, he would always behave like a good boy.

  “That was quite the show today,” she murmured, not unkindly. When his eyes widened in terror, she shook her head and trailed her claws behind his ears until those same eyes closed in pleasure. “It’s understandable, really. He stole from you. They stole the crown from you, my dear sweet boy, like your father did from me. And how do we treat thieves?”

  For anyone else, that blood-soaked grin, with his head cocked to the side and tongue out playfully would have been heart-stopping. In Gwen it just aroused… pride, among other things.

  “So, now we must decide, my sweet angel, how will we rid ourselves of this meddlesome Corvid?” At his grunt of confusion, she sighed fondly, lightly scratching his chin. “Because, the fastest way to solve your problem is to remove the baby from the equation. No half-breed mongrel, no crown.”

  She didn’t mention that this was the correction of a mistake she’d made last time. Lacking the will to do what she must. There would be no such problems this time.

  She walked slowly from her place by the hearth to one of her overstuffed armchairs on the other side of the room, away from the carnage, her nephew matching her step for step on all fours as she walked upright.

  Perched on the fine damask, she changed forms again, human once more, but naked, with him on the floor by her side. It wasn’t the first time Brendan had seen her like this. She needed to think. They needed a plan because the Corvid, unlike the Hircine girl, was smart, cagey. This would require cunning and careful crafting to get past the birdbrain’s natural suspicious nature. It was difficult, but not impossible.