*****
Frank
Traffic along South Quentin Avenue began to slow as the night dragged on, allowing him an almost-unobstructed view inside the restaurant across the road. Only the occasional car driving past broke the scene before him, robbing a few seconds of her flirtatious smile from him. He'd been standing there for nearly two hours, and it looked like they weren't going to be leaving any time soon.
God, she was beautiful. More than she'd ever been, if it was possible. Her face was alive and vibrant as she spoke, her hands animated with whatever story she was sharing with the man at her table. For once, it looked as if she had thrown all of her worries aside and allowed herself to live in the moment, to enjoy life and all it had to offer her, and he hated her for it. He hated the way this man could bring that coy smile to her lips, the way she fluttered those eyelashes at him, and lightly touched his arm as they talked.
He'd been looking for her for several months. Every city they passed through, he couldn't help but wonder if she was nearby, if she was right under his nose. Like most things Harley did to him, her running off had made him crazy. He didn’t know what she’d done with his bike, if she'd gotten herself hurt, or worse, if she'd moved on. Watching her with this guy, it appeared as though she had done just that.
A waiter set a plate between them. The man grabbed his fork and dug it into the fat slice of chocolate cake then offered it to Harley. Rage roiled within him as she leaned over the table and let the guy feed her.
Oh, but that bitch was gonna pay. She would pay for what she put him through, how she made him feel, but first, he was going to tear that jackass limb from limb.
Frank's cell rang in his jacket pocket, and tamping down his anger, he answered it on the third ring.
"Yeah," he growled.
"Where are you?" the voice was impatient.
"Who are you, my mama?"
Harlow growled over the line. "Don't start with me, Essex. You're on thin ice as it is, you know. Now, if it were up to me... I'd have skinned you alive the night you let the girl ride away on your little toy. You had one job to do, and you fucked it off. However, my father thinks you'll be worthwhile, yet."
"Is that so?" Frank laughed derisively. "Must piss you off that daddy likes me better."
"Don't get too cocky, jackass. You're about one wrong move from being on his shit list. Please," he said the word with longing. "Please, give him a reason to send me after you."
"Sorry, dickweed. You're not my type," Frank breathed as his eyes moved back to Harley.
She was reaching over and wiping something off the guy’s lower lip. Frank’s grip tightened on his phone so hard that it began to creak in protest. "What the fuck do you want, Harlow? I'm a little busy right now so if you just called to bust my balls—"
"Have you found her yet?"
Frank stared at the woman in the restaurant. Her hair was different. Blond and shorter than before, but there was no doubt that it was her. It was tragic, really. So many memories of that long, thick, dark hair as it tickled down his body. The tips sliding silkily over his skin as she teased him. So many memories of her and the things she could do. His dick hardened at the mere thought of it.
"No," he growled as he watched them together. "Still no sign of the bitch."
There was a disgusted snarl on the other end of the phone.
"I knew you were useless. How hard can it be to find one little girl?"
"Pretty fuckin' hard when she don't want to be found. I don't see you or daddy pluckin' her off the street."
"Funny, I don't see you doing much of anything. Are you even trying to locate her?" Harlow asked.
"She's got my bike, dick. I want to find her just as much as you."
"No, see... that's where you're wrong. I don't give a shit about her," Harlow hissed. "But my father wants her. He wants you to find her and deliver her like you should have done ages ago. You were supposed to procure her and bring her to us not play house with her and make her your little biker bitch."
"Play house," Frank snorted. "Trust me. She's more of a headache than you know. I was tryin' to make her more pliable. You think she would've just dropped everything and let me drop her off on the doorstep of some guy she never met? You gotta tame ‘em, first. Then they'll do whatever you ask 'em."
"Sounds to me like she was the one doing the taming, Frankie-boy," Harlow laughed smugly. "Tell me, did she at least give you your balls in a jar when she neutered you?"
"Fuck you," Frank growled. He hung up on the sound of deep, self-satisfied laughter.
When he let his attention return to the window across the street, he saw an empty table. Damn it. Daddy’s boy had gotten him so distracted he didn't realize they were leaving. Hoping they hadn't left the restaurant, Frank pushed off the lamp post and hurried across the street. A car honked as it nearly clipped his leg, and he cursed. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to himself.
When he was tucked safely in the shadows again, he rolled his shoulders and waited, watching the entrance. Harley's laugh erupted from around the corner, and they stepped out onto the sidewalk, heading the other direction. They were walking towards that beat up car he'd seen her driving around town. He found it amusing that she drove here separately. Apparently, she hadn't trusted this jerk as much as she'd like to think.
Feeling a deep satisfaction at that thought, Frank carefully trailed the pair. He didn't lose sight of them, but he didn't have to be too close to hear them. Or smell them. The night was breezy and warm and carried scents to him easily. The scent of Harley's perfume, and beneath that, her salty-sweet skin made his stomach tight, his mouth dry as he remembered the taste of her under his tongue. So many months and the thought of her stretched naked under him could still overwhelm his senses.
He loved it and hated it all at once. Loved that the memories were recalled so thoroughly that it was like she was right there with him. Hated that she could distract him so easily. So fully.
It was the second scent, though, that turned him from lusting flesh to lusting for blood. It was an earthy musk. Damp and strong like forest dirt after a heavy rain. It was the smell of kin. The smell of wolf. It blew past Frank's human logic and poked at the part of him that wanted blood. He would rend the wolf's flesh from his bone for daring to go near his territory.
He wouldn't move, yet, though. Not until they'd parted ways. It was the only way he could swoop in without bringing down the entirety of hell around his head. Patience and timing.
They hovered next to her Toyota for a good ten minutes, just laughing and talking. The subtle nuances of her body language were flirtatious and inviting, but there was still a tension in her shoulders and neck he could see in spite of the distance between them. She wanted to pretend things were normal and easy, but she knew better. She could never trust easily again, and Frank was satisfied in his hand in that. Finally, the man leaned forward and kissed her.
A low, feral growl trickled from Frank's throat as he watched this dog violate her mouth. This would not be tolerated. He would pay, dearly, for touching her.
They finally separated, and Harley moved to get into her car. Frank waited eagerly for her to pull onto the street and drive down the road. If only she knew how close he'd been.
Keys jangled beside him, drawing his gaze back to the man who had been pawing her. He flicked his cigarette to the road and pushed away from the wall, moving with swift determination towards the wolf. He was just sliding his key into his car door when Frank reached him and grabbed the back of his hair, throwing his face forward into the top of his car.
Braedon ‘s nose cracked with the force of the blow, spilling thick, hot blood down his face and throat. He started to grab at his face as he spun around, only to barely duck his head to the side before Frank’s fist smashed through the car window, raining pieces of broken glass down on him.
He fell to his side, catching the ground under his hands, and quickly crawled away from Frank trying to get back on his feet. He sta
ggered back, still stunned from the blow to his face.
"Who the fuck are you?" he shouted, blood spraying from his mouth.
He was answered by another strike to his cheek, which rocked him to the side but didn't knock him down. He blocked two more hits before thrusting his own fist up into a powerful uppercut that connected with his Frank’s jaw.
Frank fell back against the car, his knuckles sliced to bloody ribbons from the broken glass and peeling away with the force of each blow he laid into Braedon. So the dog did know how to throw a punch. This would be much more satisfying than he'd originally thought. He didn't move as the guy stepped into him to throw another blow to his face. Not until he was close enough for Frank to jerk his knee up and crack him in his groin. A howl of pain screeched from the guy and Frank laughed, standing up easily.
"Oof. Now that... that's gotta hurt," he taunted as he walked towards him. "But not as much as it will when I'm done with ya."
He grabbed Braedon by the hair again, and dragged him into the darkened alley before grasping his pants and lifting him from the ground. With a grunt of effort, he tossed the man headfirst into the brick wall, watching as he crumpled into the pile of trash bags below.
"See, now that's a start," Frank said with a clap of his hands as he approached him. "Now that I've got your attention, I've got a little story to tell you. You see, there's this woman. This hardheaded, pain in the ass, want-to-choke-the-life-out-of-her woman. She's hot. I mean, smokin' hot. Guess the gods felt that this was a way to make up for the incessant, belligerent nagging she dealt out like her life depended on it."
Braedon crawled out from the trash and was trying to get to his feet again, a dark trickle of blood seeping down his forehead. He'd barely managed to reach out and brace himself on the wall when Frank's boot cracked against his ribs. He sprawled out on his back on the ground, coughing wetly.
"Jesus, and she is a wildcat in the sack, I mean," Frank touched his pointer finger and thumb together, extending the other three fingers as he gave a low, appreciative whistle, "amazing. And this woman, well, she sort of made some bad decisions. The biggest mistake of all was that she left a man that would, quite literally, kill for her. Someone who can protect her from things she doesn't even understand. Someone who really, really hates when other men, and most especially other wolves, sniff around his belongings."
"I didn't touch her," he mumbled, clutching his ribs.
Frank lifted his foot and lowered his knee down into the man's chest, putting weight into it. He was rewarded with a grunt of pain.
"How long, wolf?" Frank asked.
"W-what?"
"When were you bitten?" he asked again, his tone almost bored.
"Two m-months," Braedon wheezed through the pressure on his lungs.
Frank's mouth twitched, "You're just a pup, ain't ya? No wonder you don't know how to fight. You've barely had time to learn what to do with all the strength you've been given."
Braedon didn't say anything. He simply stared at Frank with a look of self-righteousness that sickened him. Oh, fantastic. Another wolf that would rather play human. The idea of trying to pretend to be normal was laughable at best. But mostly, it was just pathetic.
Frank leaned forward, bracing a hand on the ground next to Braedon's head until he was hovering just over him. He pressed his knee harder into Braedon’s chest, grinning as he watched the terror shine in the boy’s eyes.
"Let me teach you a little somethin', then. Most alphas can smell dishonesty on you. It's not easy to pull the wool over our eyes." Frank's voice dropped low and quiet. "The fact that I saw you two doesn't help. I saw you kiss her. Saw you put your filthy, fucking lips on hers." Frank actually moved his hand to Braedon's face and rubbed his thumb across the underside of his lower lip.
Frank heard the guy’s pulse speed up as he stared at the red smear of lipstick that rubbed off on his thumb, sniffed it, and then growled low in his throat.
"I'll end it. I swear." Braedon swallowed hard. "I won't go near her again. Man, I wouldn't have kissed her if I knew she was yours. Please."
Frank grabbed Braedon's bottom lip between his fingers and ripped the soft flesh clean from his face. Blood sprayed the front of him, and the man's chilling scream echoed in the alley. He flung the strip of severed flesh to the ground and reached forward, hooking his fingers into Braedon's blood-drenched mouth, gripping his fingertips into the back of his lower gums. Braedon cried out, tears pouring from his eyes to mingle with the flow of blood as it pooled around his head.
"Oh, I know you won't. No one touches my girl," Frank growled in his face before he pulled his head up from the ground by the jaw and slammed it into the asphalt.
His skull shattered, the asphalt breaking beneath his head. Frank released his mouth and wiped the blood on his shirt as he caught his breath, swallowing down the rage and need for blood.
It was getting easier, now. Long ago, the idea of killing another human being would give Frank pause. Then it would haunt him. As time went on and the realities of his life came to surface, it was almost nothing to him to snuff out the weak. Just the nature of the beast.
Frank started to move off him but stopped when he heard a light, melodic ring. He looked down at Braedon's lifeless body, searching for the source of the sound until he found a small flip-phone tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. He flipped it open and saw a text alert from a woman named Lizbeth.
So? How'd it go?
Did Harley show up tonight or will I have to knock some sense into her?
A wicked grin spread along his face as he replied.
It was killer.
He stared at the screen for a few seconds, thumbing through the various apps and settings until he found the address book. There, tucked in the H's, was Harley's number. Another grin stretched slowly over his lips. Well, well. Wasn't that handy?
Clicking the phone shut, he shoved it into his pocket and pushed himself to his feet. He heard voices drawing closer and knew that the guy's scream had been heard. It was time to get out of there. Fast.
With a new spring in his step, Frank made his way back to the room he'd bought for the month and thought of how Harley would react when she realized he’d found her, that she’d never escape him, and that her whole new life was nothing more than a distraction that let Frank plan his next move. Soon, he'd have her, and everything she was, at his whim.
Deny the Moon Page 14