Beneath a Blood Moon (24 page)

“For what? You didn’t do anything wrong,” she replied.

“Whatever they did to you doesn’t change us, Sara. End of story. I don’t believe in victim blaming, and I never will,” my mate growled, flicking me with his finger. A jolt ran through me, and I gasped at the way I jerked in reflex, my toes curling from the strength of his rebuke. “When you’re ready to talk about it, you will, and not a moment sooner. All that matters is you’re alive and with me.”

“I worried you.”

“Of course I was worried. Someone stole you from me, and when I find him, I’ll eat him.”

I sniffled, knowing he wouldn’t be able to have that satisfaction. “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“You can’t eat him.”

“Why not?” he demanded, poking my ribs. “He deserves it.”

I squirmed, fiddling with one of his shirt’s buttons. “I killed him. He’s all rotted by now. You’ll get sick.”

For a long moment, my mate was silent, and when I drew in a deep breath, surprise and pleasure sweetened his scent. “I can live with that.”

“He tried to touch me. I didn’t like it. Only you’re allowed to touch me. I killed him,” I babbled, once again flicking the button of his shirt. It popped off under the force of my nail. “Oops.”

Picking a new button, I toyed with it, flushing at my acknowledgment of what Kent had tried to do to me. Sanders was my mate, not Kent, and neither were any one of the other Fenerec Kent had tortured with my presence. If he had, using his sorcerous powers, broken my bond with my mate, I’d forge it anew and make him mine all over again.

I’d use Kent’s curse against him, binding Sanders to me once again, no matter what it took.

“If you keep destroying my clothes at your current rate, Sara, I’m not going to have anything to wear.”

“I need you. You don’t need clothes,” I growled, flicking off another button and sending it bouncing off the end of the couch.

Wendy laughed. “I’ll take you both clothes shopping when you’re feeling up for an outing, Sara. You can dress up Sanders however you want, and you’ll decide what he takes home. It’ll be your reward for a job well done.”

I smiled, and flicking off another button, I opened his shirt enough I could nuzzle him without the fabric in the way. Once again, I breathed in his scent. “Okay.”

“The lady has spoken. Before we take you both home to Seattle, there shall be shopping, and a great deal of it.”

“Don’t I get a say in this?” my mate demanded.

“It’s in the women’s handbook. Shopping is a legitimate form of therapy,” Wendy stated, sniffling.

“If she gets to dress me up, I get to dress her up.”

“That is a fair compromise. You will dress each other up, and I will use Charles’s credit card to buy everything. It’s a deal.”

“You really killed him?” my mate asked, curling some of my hair around his finger. “Was he the one who dyed your hair?”

I nodded. How would he react when he found out he was also the man who had killed his Mary? Swallowing, I bit my lip.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, giving my hair a gentle tug. “I’m proud of you. Why are you so worried? I’m not mad at you, Sara. All I care about is that you’re safe.”

“You were afraid of losing me like you lost Mary,” I whispered.

“Damned fucking straight I was afraid. I thought you were gone, and once again, I hadn’t been able to do a single fucking thing about it.”

“He’s dead. The one who killed Mary,” I whispered. “He’s dead.”

My mate sucked in a breath. “What are you talking about?”

“It was him. He wanted you; he wanted to draw you out. He was using me to get to you. He tried to rape me, and I snapped his fucking neck with my feet. I broke him like he wanted to break you.” The words bubbled out of me in a rush, leaving me shaking in their wake.

“Oh my God,” Wendy whispered.

Sanders’s hand, still tangled in my hair, rested on my shoulder, his fingers flexing. The scent of his fury stung my nose. “You’re sure it was him?”

I wrapped my arms around him. “He told me what he had done. What he wanted to do. He made me mad. You’re
mine
.”

Someone knocked at the door. Wendy got up and answered it. The scent of meat teased my nose. Hunger pains cramped my stomach, and I restlessly shifted. My mate untangled his hand from my hair, worked his hands under me, and sat me upright.

Instead of letting me go like I expected, he moved me so I straddled his lap, and with a heavy sigh, he pressed his face to my shoulder and held me close. He shook, his hands clutching at my back. The sting of the silver burns drew a hiss out of me. As he had for me, I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair.

I hoped my touch soothed him as much as his soothed me.

I waited until Wendy closed the door before growling, “Mine.”

“Do I need to call Charles, Sanders?” Wendy asked.

My mate shook his head. “I’m okay. Just surprised.”

“And angry,” she stated.

“Infuriated,” he admitted in a snarl. “I want to rip him to pieces for what he did.” My stomach gurgled, and with a weak laugh, my mate nuzzled my neck. “I’ll fantasize about murdering him later.”

I matched his snarl and bit his shoulder. “Don’t you even dare. The only one you’re allowed to fantasize about is me.”

“Wrong type of fantasy, Sara,” my mate murmured, and while it was small, he did smile.

“Your lady has spoken, Sanders. Come eat, Sara. Charles will get mad at me if I let you devour your mate.”

Chapter Twelve

I spent a great deal of time sleeping. At some point, Sanders brought me back into the pack, but the memory of it was hazy. I was aware of one thing, however; instead of a joyful reunion, the smothering sense of dismay wrapped around me, and it only eased when my mate was close to me.

I woke alone; stomach-cramping dread enveloped me, warning me my mate was away. Something was amiss, but I couldn’t tell what. I fidgeted with nervous energy, tossing and turning in my effort to return to the peace of sleep.

I gave up, and with a groan, I cracked open an eye. Muttering curses at the need to face the world, I got out of bed.

The room was dark, as was the hallway beyond. A peek out the curtain revealed it was early morning. When I sniffed the air, my mate’s scent lingered, although my wolf believed he hadn’t been around recently. Bothered by the quiet and the darkness, I slinked out of bed and crept to the door.

Silence.

No one was in the bathroom or the sitting room. The other bedroom was also empty, as were the office and foyer. For the first time since I’d been snatched on the way home from class, there was no one around to bother me, to hover, or to worry. While I still ached for my mate, it was a tolerable discomfort.

I flicked on the bathroom light and was startled by my reflection in the room’s many mirrors. The red in my hair, as promised, was gone. Judging from the smell, it had been bleached, leaving it an odd orange-pink color. I had no memory of bleaching it.

At least it wasn’t red.

Tucked in a corner was a bag full of hair dye products. Giggling at the variety of blondes and blues, I selected the palest blonde and the brightest of the blues. Desmond either knew his way around hair dyes or he had asked, because there was aluminum foil in the bag, several brushes suitable for applying dye, and a package of plastic bowls. He had even bought doubles of everything in case I needed it. With my hair falling halfway down my back, I needed the extra boxes.

Folded across the edge of the bathtub was a dye-stained beach towel, victim of their efforts to restore my hair to normality. Stripping out of my pajamas, I tossed them into the hallway to spare them, wrapped up in the towel, and went to work. My wolf’s interest in what I was doing grew until I opened the box containing the blonde dye. She got one whiff of it and retreated until I could barely detect her presence.

“Wuss,” I muttered.

In addition to a huge mirror, the bathroom had a television. While I had a small one at my apartment, I couldn’t afford cable. I had an internet connection only because I couldn’t do my schoolwork without it. My work schedule had been so intense most of my research happened online.

Taking the time to go to the college library wasn’t an option.

Once I finished brushing dye into my hair, I prowled the suite, turning on all of the lights as I went. On the coffee table, I found two envelopes, both of which had my name on them. Scowling, I grabbed them.

One contained cash, and a lot of it. In the other was a phone number, an address, and a key card for the hotel room. The purse Desmond and Wendy had purchased with the dress was on the couch. Sitting down, I grabbed it and went through it. I found more cash inside along with a bank card, which had a sticky note with the pin number. My keys were inside, but the blue wallet was new. My ID and bank card were tucked inside.

At the bottom of the bag was a slim cell phone. Puzzled, I picked it up. While most girls had cells, they were a luxury I couldn’t afford. The phone I had was a cheap corded phone from a dollar store, although I had splurged on an answering machine so I wouldn’t miss any calls from work.

I took my time rinsing my hair out, relaxing in the warm water. My arms and shoulders ached, but the heat worked out most of the stiffness by the time I got the excess dye out. Long after the water ran clear, I stood in the spray, staring at the wall without really seeing it.

Kent had dyed my hair in the basement shower, pawing at me while I was cuffed and unable to fight him. I flexed my hands at the memory, growling at how close I’d come to being forced to mate with him.

I understood Brandy and why she hadn’t killed me right away; breaking Kent’s sorcerous neck didn’t satisfy me. Maybe he was dead, but death was an easy, fast way out for what he had done to me and Sanders, Mary, and his other victims.

I wanted to end Brandy’s life for helping Kent, for watching, laughing, and helping him torment the males, for using me, for waking my need for Sanders and leaving me unsatisfied, and for hurting my mate. I wanted to break Brandy in my hands, and when she stood on the brink of death, I wanted to give her to my wolf so she could kill her.

I held my breath until my lungs burned before exhaling.

I had no idea what to do about the witch or how to find her. My wolf, recognizing the hunt as futile, turned her attention back to more important matters. Finding Sanders and making certain he was safe topped the list, although she paused to contemplate what I had done to my hair.

While the dye remover had stripped out the red, the blond and blue weren’t quite as bright as I wanted. Muttering curses, I toweled off and headed into the bedroom in search of clothing. Several bags waited, where I found a selection of dresses, lingerie, and heels. “What the hell? Dresses?” I sighed and changed.

My first order of business would be to buy comfortable clothes. A few pairs of jeans and some tank tops and I’d be ready to go, although I considered wearing the sundresses over some jeans. The one I picked, a blue matching my hair, had a certain charm to it. I’d also have to get a new purse.

I had no idea how much work I had missed, but going to the club and quitting was my second order of business. When Sanders returned to Seattle, I’d follow him. Surely Seattle had an underground just like Las Vegas. I would find some way to integrate into the city and build a new life.

Once and for all, I’d lay Sara Watson to rest.

After grabbing a matching pair of heels to go with the dress, I headed into the sitting room to retrieve the pair of envelopes on the coffee table and the purse. I decided if they hadn’t meant for me to leave the room, they wouldn’t have left a key.

I opened one of the suite’s doors to discover a pair of men wearing suits standing guard. I sucked in a breath, my eyes widening as they turned to face me.

The cinnamon scent of Fenerec teased my nose.

“Good morning, Miss Madison.” The man on my right had pale hair and a thin, almost gaunt face; his voice was startlingly deep. “Will you require a car?”

I blinked and opened my mouth to reply, but I failed to make a single sound. It was like my life back in New York, where nameless guards showed up at my parents’ convenience. Swallowing, I tried again and whispered, “I’m going to the shops. I don’t need a car.”

I also didn’t need or want bodyguards, especially strange males I didn’t know. My wolf wanted me to growl and drive them away, but I kept quiet.

With the exceptions of Desmond and Sanders, my experiences with men hadn’t been pleasant. Would the males of my kind view my dancing as an all-access pass? Some human men did. I considered retreating into the room and slamming the door. Instead, I closed the door behind me, squeezed by them careful to avoid touching either one of them, and headed for the elevator.

They followed me. My wolf fidgeted under the feeling of their gazes on my back.

By the time we reached the main level of the Venetian, I shook with worry. My wolf’s anxiety spiked; determined to get some distance between me and the two males, I marched through the crowds, following the signs for the Canal Shoppes.

If they were going to stalk me around the stores, I had no intention of making it easy for them.