Moon Bound (3 page)

May
being the operative word.

Tiff pouted full lips, designed by the best plastic surgeon money could buy. Steven couldn’t help compare them to another woman’s more beautiful mouth. Bella never pouted. She snarled or beamed, scowled or grinned. Nothing as tame as a pout.

Damn, now he had Bella on the brain. And that was dangerous.

“Then dinner tonight.” Tiff’s eyebrows lifted. “Daddy said I should bring you along and not take no for an answer.”

And that, he knew, was a royal command. Still…

He glanced at the note on his desk. What was he going to do?

“Steven? Tonight? What time should I expect you?”

He looked into Tiff’s contact-enhanced blue eyes, saw her knowledge that she had him by the balls and liked it.

Fuck. That
.

His chin lifted. “I’m afraid I have to decline. I’m taking a few days off. I’ve got business in Pennsylvania. I’ll be back Tuesday.”

Tiff’s lips parted in shock and Steven had a short-lived victory that quickly turned to realization of what he’d agreed to.

He was going home, which had more to do with where
she
was than a geographical area.

Tiff recovered quickly, a shrewd look in her eyes. “I thought your dad died a few years ago.”

“He did.” Three years and three months ago to be exact. One more loss. “One of my dad’s wards needs…help.”

“I’m sure it can wait until tomorrow.”

The arrogance in Tiff’s voice put his back up and he had to rein in the urge to use just a tiny bit of power and redirect her misguided affections. But that would be like a reformed crack addict thinking he could have just one more fix.

Power was dangerous. Magic, off limits.

And Bella…forbidden.

Still, he couldn’t ignore her plea. She never asked. She always demanded.

This was different. Something was wrong.

Steven looked Tiffani in the eyes again and smiled, pouring on the charm he’d become known for instead of the power he fought back every day. “Ask your father if dinner when I get back could be arranged. I’ll see you when I return.”

* * *

Remo Paganelli stared out the window of his home in The Majestic on Central Park West.

Central Park was a sea of green at the moment but not for long. Fall was nearly here and the leaves would turn brown and blow away like so much dirt.

Good thing he’d never have to worry about shriveling up and dying like those leaves. His father had taken care of that little problem with mortality five hundred years ago.

And all it’d cost was the death of Fabrizio Paganelli’s beloved youngest son, Christo.

Who’d been a complete waste of space as far as Remo was concerned.

Still, Christo’s death had been Remo’s gain so Remo figured he should be thankful to his little brother for dying of cancer and throwing their father into a black pit of despair.

Who would’ve thought their father, a member of the
Malandante
, an ancient and powerful cult of Etruscan magic users, would have been able to convince Veive, the Etruscan God of Revenge, to lay a curse on the heads of the
streghe
, Etruscan witches
who’d failed to save his son?

And who could have expected Fabrizio to screw it up so wonderfully and not only curse the
streghe
to everlasting life but have that curse rebound on his three remaining sons?

That had just been pure good luck.

Staring out on the expanse of his adopted hometown, most of which he could see from these windows, Remo spared a moment to wonder at the whereabouts of his spineless younger brothers, Dario and Parente. Immortality had been wasted on them. They’d whined and bitched and wrung their hands like women, crying about being taken out of the natural order of life.

Not Remo. Only he’d been smart enough to see the beauty and advantage of eternity. He’d embraced it, thrived on it.

Never wanted it to end.

Dario… Remo sneered thinking about his youngest remaining brother. For centuries Dario had hunted the
streghe
, believing that when he’d burned all of their bodies to ash, the curse would be broken.

In five-hundred years, the fool had only managed to kill three of the thirteen women.

Remo shook his head. Christ, how inept did you have to be to manage to kill only three women in
five
hundred
years?

Damn good thing Dario would never come to him for a job. Even though they were family, Remo didn’t need another screw-up on his staff. He had enough of those already.

What he didn’t have was powerful magic.

Parente had inherited the lion’s share of their father’s gift, leaving only crumbs for Remo and Dario.

How the hell was he supposed to become a god among men if he didn’t have the power to back it up?

For five hundred years, Remo had built an empire. Five hundred years to amass a fortune, manipulate world leaders, gather information. Five hundred years leading the
Malandante
from behind the scenes.

But what good was all that if he was unable to wield true power himself?

Remo felt his
arus
rise, like warm cognac flowing through his body. Lifting his fingers, he directed a stream of power down into the street below.

And smiled when a taxi crashed into the Benz in front of it. The driver of the Benz jumped out of the car, arms waving, red-faced. The taxi driver barely paid him any attention as he reached for his phone.

Damn, no blood.

That was the problem. He wanted blood.

He wanted the power to control the elements. He knew only one man who could.

And Remo had decided he wanted that power. He was sick of waiting for the man to agree to work for him.

He would take what he wanted.

Even if that meant he had to enlist the aid of a real god.

* * *

Steven’s cell rang as he tossed clothes in a duffel bag, enough for the weekend.

The digital display read Private Caller. He answered on the off-chance it was her.

“Bella?”

“Where the hell is she?”

Steven knew that deep growl, though they hadn’t spoken for three years. “Cole!
Dio
, Cole—”

“Where is she? Is she with you? You bastard, you promised you’d stay away from her.”

Pain slashed into his chest like sharp claws but he kept his voice steady. “She’s not here.”

There was a pause and Steven heard the man he loved like a brother take a deep breath, trying to control the temper that could overwhelm him if he wasn’t careful. And Cole had learned to be very careful.

“Then where the hell is she?” Cole spoke each word carefully, as if they were trying to get away from him.

Shit, Cole didn’t know where she was either.

Not good.

When he’d first read the note, his immediate reaction had been to call his best friend. For eight years after the death of Cole’s parents, they’d shared a room, their secrets, their lives. And then everything had gone to shit.

Three fucking years.

Anger started to creep into his spine. “I got a note in the mail today. ‘I need you. Please come.’ What the hell does that mean? What’s going on?”

Cole sighed and Steven heard a wealth of frustration in the sound. “
Baciami il culo
. I don’t know. She dropped off the radar a week ago and I haven’t heard from her since. I’ve tried to call her but I haven’t been able to get through to her cell and if she’s at the house, she’s not answering the phone. You were my last call.”

Hurt sideswiped him even as fear took a bite out of his lungs. Three years ago, he would’ve been the first person Cole called.

Of course, he hadn’t picked up the phone to call Cole in all that time either, so…

Focus. No time for past bullshit now.
“What do you mean, she disappeared?”

“I mean, she hasn’t called and I haven’t been able to reach her. Why the
hell
would she get in touch with you?
I’m
her brother.”

Steven’s back straightened at Cole’s tone. “I know that. You never let me forget.”

Cole sighed again. “Shit.
Shit
. That’s not—
Fuck.
Where the
hell
is she, Steven?”

Fear had started to seep into Cole’s voice and Steven tried not to let it crank up his own anxiety. They’d find her. They had to. “The note didn’t say where she was, just that she needed me. I’m assuming she’s at your parents’ house because she knows that’s the first place I’d look for her. I’m getting ready to go there now.”

Does she still need me?

And if she did, what would he do about it? What
could
he do about it? Nothing had changed.

“Why the hell did she send for you and not me?” Cole asked.

Good question
. “Are you two fighting again?”

Cole huffed. “We’re always fighting about something, you know that. We talked two weeks ago. She was in Philly, getting ready to go to work. She didn’t mention anything out of the ordinary. We don’t talk as much as we used to so I only called her three days ago and haven’t been able to reach her.” Cole took an unsteady breath. “What if the
Mal
caught up with her? What if—”

“Jesus, Cole. Chill. You sound like a fucking old woman. Pull it together.” There would be time to fall apart later. “The letter was postmarked two day ago.”

“Two days.” Now Steven heard anger in Cole’s voice. The guy’s mood swings were almost as bad as his had been. “
Vaffanculo
. I’m gonna strangle her. Steven, I can’t lose—”

“No. Just shut up.” He didn’t want to hear the words, didn’t need a reminder of the past. And he knew telling Cole to do anything usually made the man do the exact opposite. “You know Bella. She’s probably gotten out of whatever fix she got herself into but I booked a flight out tonight. It leaves in two hours. I should be at the house by one a.m. Where are you?”

Cole took a few seconds to answer. “New Orleans. I’ll take the next flight out.”

“What are you doing in New Orleans?”

Cole paused again. “
Congress
.”

Shit. Something was going down.

As king of the
lucani
, the position he’d inherited when his father and older brother had been killed, Cole had never held
congress
, a meeting of the leaders of the American
versipelli
. It was too dangerous for them all to be in the same place at the same time.

Why now?

No. Not my business. Not anymore.

“Can you take the time?” he asked Cole.

“No.
Congress
is in less than a week and it’s
fucking
hard to hide five-hundred
fucking
shapeshifters in this
fucking
city!”

Steven had to laugh. In the world he lived in now, it was a ludicrous statement. Sometimes he wondered—

No. He couldn’t afford to think about what could have been. “I’ll find her, Cole.”

What the hell he’d do with her afterward was something different. Because nothing had changed.

Cole sighed. “Steven…”

There it was again, that tone in Cole’s voice. The one that made pain ooze from every pore of Steven’s body.

Vaffanculo
, he missed Cole. And Bella.

Cole sighed again. “I thought you two weren’t talking. Hell, I specifically told you
not
to talk to her.”

Yeah, he had. And Steven had listened.

Idiot
.

“When was the last time I listened to you?”

Cole’s snort sounded slightly amused. “Yeah, fuck you,
ceffo
. You never listen to me. Just… Shit, don’t screw with her head. Find her, bring her to me. She needs to be with family.”

That dig cut him off at the balls. “I
am
family.”

The silence from the other end of the phone was deafening. “I know that. Damn it, Steven. Don’t…” Cole sighed one more time. In resignation. “Just find her. And put her on the first fucking plane down here. And Steven…you be on that damn plane, too.”

* * *

Four hours after he talked to Cole, Steven walked out of Philadelphia International Airport, picked up a rental car and headed northwest.

Rush-hour traffic on the Schuylkill Expressway hadn’t changed since he’d been here years ago. The bumper-to-bumper crawl made it difficult for him to concentrate on anything but driving.

Which was probably a good thing because if he had too much time to think about what he was doing, he might turn tail and run.

Damn it, he didn’t have a tail.

But Bella did. Occasionally.

She was a beautiful wolf, her coat sleek and silver, nothing as ordinary as grey.

Gods be damned, he hadn’t seen her in three years. What the hell would he say—

Idiot. You sound like you’re going on a first date.

This was no date.

By the time he reached the Pennsylvania Turnpike, where finally he could put his foot to the floor and cover some miles, his temples pounded and his stomach roiled.

He needed to stop and get some food and something for his headache before he drove to the Luporeale family house in northern Berks County. Bella and Cole owned the property where they’d grown up…before moving in with him and his father in Chester County after the death of their parents and brother. But the place held too many memories for her to stay there for any length of time.

Hell, maybe she wasn’t even there.

Instead of spending another forty minutes in the car—after the two and a half hours on the plane and now the nearly two hours behind the wheel—he decided to stop in Reading first.

If Bella was in the area, Harry would know. Of course, the guy might refuse to talk to him.

By the time he pulled up outside The Spyder Club, it was nearly midnight and his headache threatened to make his eyes bleed.

He parked down the street from the club then sat in the car for a few seconds, staring at the once-grand building that housed one of the best-kept secrets in the state.