Beneath a Blood Moon (13 page)

My wolf’s terror consumed me, leaving me hostage to her instinct to run and live to fight another day.

I couldn’t remember much about my first transformation; one minute I was a human and Rory and Isabella were sinking their fangs into me—the next, my wolf had come to my rescue, turning on them so we might survive.

I had no memory of searing pain deep inside while my bones shifted, snapped, and reformed. My muscles writhed under my skin, which split, dissolved, and reformed to a furry coat. She was so frightened she wouldn’t let us scream.

If we cried out, it would show weakness.

If we were weak, we would die.

Under the light of the blood moon, we had been strong and large enough to fight off our attackers, killing so we wouldn’t be killed. Without its ruddy glow, I took a more gangly form, with paws too big for my long legs. My wolf ruled, forcing me to tuck my tail and lower my head so my throat wouldn’t be torn out. At her insistence, I cowered and retreated in the direction of the piano, hiding beneath its bench.

“She’s just a puppy,” Wendy spluttered. “Charles, she’s a
puppy
. She can barely walk on her own.”

“I see that,” Desmond replied before heaving a sigh. “Things become clearer.”

“Clearer how?” Sanders demanded. He knelt beside the armchair, his amber eyes bright.

Desmond growled. “That was no stomach bug. Ritual sickness. There’s nothing else it could be. Three days puts it right during the full moon.”

Ritual sickness? My wolf didn’t understand what he was talking about and neither did I. I hunched over the bench’s supports, whining with each breath. I didn’t want to remember the full moon. I didn’t want to remember how I had buried my fangs into my best friend’s throat, her blood hot in my mouth.

“Who did it?” Sanders growled.

Breathing in the scents, all my wolf could distinguish was cinnamon and the acrid bite of rage hanging thick in the air.

“Let’s worry about your little puppy first,” Desmond suggested.

“My little puppy?” Sanders whirled around, lost his balance, and sat down hard.

“I see no reason you can’t claim her as yours if her Alpha can’t hold onto her. If you don’t want her, I’ll take her to Richard. I’m sure one of his unmated males would jump at a chance for such a beauty. If her Alpha
can
hold her, well, we’ll find out who he is soon enough.” Desmond’s tone promised violence, and I shuddered, whining and retreating from under the bench to the corner.

“Charles, perhaps you should relax. You’re frightening her,” Wendy stated, her tone utterly calm. “Sara, darling, we’re not going to hurt you.”

I shook. They saw me for what I was: a monster. They weren’t afraid of me—of us? Confusion, worry, and fear choked off my breath.

What did they mean by Alpha? Why would anyone want a monster? Why did it matter I hadn’t allowed my wolf to mate with the first eligible male?

My wolf’s attention focused on Sanders, who still gawked at Desmond.

“She’s looking at you, Sanders,” Wendy said.

I pressed down to the floor, the marble cold against my belly, turning my ears back. My wolf approved, easing control away from me so we remained still.

Twisting around to face me, Sanders’s eyes darkened to a light brown. “Sara.” The way he breathed my name soothed my wolf.

“Poor girl. Unless my nose is lying to me, she’s rutting early and probably has no idea what’s going on,” Wendy said, shaking her head, crouching beside Sanders. “If her Alpha isn’t the one driving the rogues, I’ll be surprised. Easy pickings for you, Sanders, if you want her. If not, Richard’s a call away.”

“She’s traumatized enough and drugged with wolfsbane. You want me to add to it?” Sanders flexed his hands, drew a deep breath, and sighed. “If she’s rutting, you know exactly what’ll happen, Wendy.”

“Oh, my. The thought never, ever occurred to me,” Wendy replied, covering her mouth with her hands, her eyes widening. “Charles, did we keep the receipts for our daughters? Sanders doesn’t seem to think I know what happens during the rut.”

Desmond snorted. “If only.”

“Wendy!”

“She likes you. She thinks you’re nice. You’d rather let her stay with the cretin who performed the ritual and then let her run loose?” The sharp edge in Wendy’s voice made Sanders flinch.

My wolf growled.

“Damn it, Wendy. She’s drugged,” Sanders spluttered.

“Should make it easier for you to subjugate her. You know how this works. If her Alpha isn’t taking care of her,
someone
has to. I’m sure Charles could until Richard arrives, but it’ll be much nicer for her if you’re the one to do it.” Wendy huffed, bending down to pick up the shredded ruins of the dress I had worn. “A real shame about the gown. She made it beautiful.”

“Stop worrying, Sanders. I ordered her to do exactly what she wants, and if anyone else tried to make her do something she didn’t want to do, she’s to ask me. I’m more impressed she managed to embrace her wolf with wolfsbane in her system. They must not have given her much, knowing she’s just a puppy, or she burned it off somehow. She was giving you the eye earlier. Maybe the fact she’s rutting is helping. At least she’s not weak to it like Richard is.” Desmond stood and approached me, halting within several strides. “She probably weighs about fifty pounds. Pretty puppy coat, too. Solid black from the looks of it.”

“Makes me wonder how she’ll shed out after she’s aged,” Wendy said, dumping the shredded gown onto the table.

“Or mated,” Desmond added.

“Too young. Even if she mates this year, I bet she won’t shed out until next winter at the absolute earliest,” Wendy declared.

“I don’t know, dear. If Sanders lets her sink her teeth into him, she might this rut. He
is
an Alpha after all, even though he’s acting like he’s in his puppy coat still.”

“Desmond!”

“Be nice, Charles. It’s been less than a year. Anyway, most bitches shed out after three years, so don’t rush her. She’ll shed out when she’s good and ready to shed out. Sanders, dear, you can subjugate her without nipping her, you know. Unless, of course, you
want
to nip her.” Wendy smirked at Sanders, crossing her arms. “She’s lovely, sweet, and she’s
interested in you. Most men would kill to be you right now.”

Sanders spluttered.

Desmond crouched in front of me, resting his forearms on his knees. “Sara, can you tell us your Alpha’s name?”

Because the question wasn’t unreasonable, I couldn’t resist the compulsion to shake my head.

“Do you know his name?”

Once again, I shook my head.

Desmond frowned, then his expression went slack. Sucking in a breath, he stared at me with widening eyes. “Sara, do you know what an Alpha is?”

I shook my head, and unable to retreat any farther, I whined. Desmond stayed where he was and asked, “Were you attacked?”

Ashamed what I had done to survive, I curled into a ball and shook, whining with every breath.

Sanders whispered. “Are you seriously thinking she was forced to accept the ritual?”

Drawing a deep breath, Desmond held it for a long moment before letting it out in a sigh. “I don’t think she was forced, Sanders. I don’t think she has any idea what she is, what we are, or what’s happening to her at all. I think some rogue wolves went hunting and found out what could be born beneath a blood moon.”

As long as I stayed in the corner, my wolf let me stay in control. Desmond kept us trapped with his presence alone, sitting on the piano bench while he watched me. I panted, unable to stop trembling.

“What do you think, Wendy?” Desmond asked.

“You’re asking me?” My wolf identified the change in the woman’s scent as surprise.

“You’re submissive. For some reason, I don’t think my usual method of dealing with these sort of things would be wise or appropriate,” Desmond replied, huffing. “She’s terrified enough. Your show, Wendy. My way will cause a lot more harm than good, I think.”

“Unbelievable. You can be taught. Okay. I guess I want to know what you think happened to her, first,” Wendy replied, coming up to join her husband at the piano bench. “If you don’t think there was a ritual and you don’t think she was forced, what happened?”

“She’s either a reverse True-born or she’s spontaneous,” Desmond replied, rising so Wendy could take his place on the bench. “When we first met her, I wasn’t paying much attention to my nose; I was a bit distracted. My bet, considering her reactions and what I know of the rogues in the area, is that she’s spontaneous.”

“I wasn’t paying much attention, either,” Sanders mumbled from his spot on the couch. “To my nose.”

“I know exactly what you both were paying attention to,” Wendy growled, her glare focusing on her husband. “I’m still deciding how you will pay for your crimes, Husband. Sanders, you’re encouraged to pay attention to things other than your nose. Charles, on the other hand, is not supposed to be doing such things without me.”

“Duly noted,” Desmond replied. “I shall endeavor to come up with a suitable penance for my crimes.”

“One I’ll enjoy,” Wendy demanded.

“One you’ll enjoy very much.”

“Could you two focus on the problem instead of flirting?” Sanders pleaded. “I’ve heard of successful forced rituals, but what in the hell do you mean by spontaneous?”

“All myths have a bit of truth in them… and the one about werewolves being created by another werewolf attacking them is a myth with a little bit of truth. Humans born to wolves are rare, but it’s obvious enough what they are when they show up. There’s what, three of them alive right now versus zero—possibly one—spontaneous?”

“Something like that. One in North America. I think the other two are in Europe,” Sanders replied. Sighing, he stood, crossed the room, and leaned against the piano. “So you think she was attacked by rogues?”

“Do or die.” Desmond growled. “Attacked, probably for sport or mating, and she proved either incompatible with them or she fought them. That’s one possibility. Maybe one of them tried mating with her, and she didn’t like it and was so desperate to get away she bonded with a wolf to escape. I suppose it’s possible she just spontaneously bonded when the moon rose, though I’ve never heard of that happening before. We won’t know for certain unless she tells us.”

With them distracting each other, I belly-crawled along the wall in my effort to get out of the corner.

Sanders sidestepped the piano, and before I could scramble to my paws, he grabbed me by the scruff of my neck and lifted me up. I yipped, and at my wolf’s insistence, I tucked my paws and tail. “Jesus, she’s not even fifty pounds, Desmond. She’s like Richard, except she’s an actual puppy and not just pretending to be one. There’s no muscle to her at all.”

Cradling me in one of his arms, Sanders returned to the couch, sinking down carefully. I whined and whimpered, trembling as he situated me on his lap, all without releasing my scruff. “Okay, Sara. Easy. We’re not going to hurt you. Wendy, you’re the least likely to give her a heart attack. Mind changing?”

“I don’t mind. Just try not to frighten her, Charles.”

“Me?” Desmond demanded.

“Yes, you. Don’t terrorize the poor puppy. Let Sanders see if he can calm her. If you can subjugate her gently, it might be wise, Matthew.”

Snorting, Sanders relaxed beneath me, stroking his hand along my back without loosening his hold on my scruff. “They’re going to kill me, I hope you know.”

Wendy paused halfway to the hallway. “Whatever for?”

My wolf breathed in deep; she fixated on the faint hints of Sanders’s interest in us. When Desmond didn’t come any closer, she relaxed, and twisting and turning, she situated my paws beneath me before shunting control back to me. At her encouragement, I lurched upright. My legs trembled, but I managed to remain standing.

Sanders stroked his hand down my back one more time before he moved his stroking hand to my neck. He slid his other hand under my belly and supported me. “I’m an unmated Alpha about to bring an unmated bitch into the pack. The instant I do that, they’ll be calling demanding to know what’s going on and asking Desmond to provide supervision.”

“Denied,” Wendy replied. “You will surrender your phone to Charles. You will present yourself to the lovely lady at her convenience.”

“Hey!”

“Sorry, Sanders. My mate has spoken,” Desmond replied, holding out his hand. “Please surrender your cell. I will assure them that everything is as it should be. You do not need their approval for this. You do, however, require mine. It’s granted.”

“I don’t need your approval,” Sanders growled.

“The Shadow Pope says otherwise.”

I cocked my ears back at the conversation, wondering what they were talking about. The only Pope I knew of led the Catholic Church, and I was fairly certain he would view me as the abomination I was.

“Damn it, Desmond! You can’t be going along with that bullshit. I’m not up for sale or auction.”

“Actually, you are. Otherwise, every eligible bitch on the continent would show up on your doorstep for a chance to sink her teeth into you. You should be grateful. No one knocks on your door without my approval. If they came when they wanted, they would’ve been hunting you within a month of Mary’s death. Anyway, your little lady has my approval.” Smirking, Desmond sank onto the armchair. “Surrender the phone, Sanders. Now.”