Moon Bound (Glorious Darkness Book 1) (17 page)

(31) You Can Leave Your Hat On

|Scarlet's POV|

"Strip." It's the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth.

"Are you for real?" Echoing aloud, I rise from my spot on the bed and cautiously back up away from him. I'm not imagining how these same lips will feel on my body. This is the last thought in my mind.

"What do you mean 
strip
?"

"I mean 
take off 
your clothes, Scarlet." Flashing me a grin, licking these oh-so-kissable lips, it's official. He's gone crazy.

Or have I?

"Why do I need to take off my clothes if we're just going to talk?"

We're just going to talk. That's all there is. He's not in his underwear. He's not smirking at me a cat-like grin. Those green orbs are not darker with desire. Oh no. He's not doing any of that.

He's not getting closer, each step he makes towards me isn't making me excited to the point of exploding.

"Don't be mistaken, Scarlet. The moment I want you underneath me, you will be." Crudely, he's not bothering to sugarcoat it. Hand reaching up, thumb caressing my lips, trailing down my chin, my neck, rubbing circles at the crook of my neck, where his mark is supposed to be, strange sensations are flooding my body.

Insanity.

"The moment you're ready, I'll be ready too and I will accommodate you any way you want me to." Beaming at me, inching closer and closer, my feet retreating from the heat of him, his hand trails lower and lower.

Shivers on its way. Limbs tingling. Heat burning in my core, pooling out, I fold my hands, my back hitting the wall behind, his own caging me from both sides now.

"I will never be ready, Alpha." Reason's flailing back at the insanity. Tense to the point of bursting, I must keep my hands still, not give in to the need to touch him. 

Leaning closer, breath fanning my skin, sending small shocks to my spine, my body's quivering, alit by desire and melting in the heat of all he is. Pure. Male. Mine to take.

"Soon," he's whispering, so close I can count his eyelashes

Inhaling my scent, his own mingling with mine into an intoxicating fragrance that brings that fire inside me closer and closer to the surface, boiling under my skin, he's forsaking my reason for me.

"So sweet," he growls, vibrations travelling deep into my core, images of what could be living inside my mind.

Hand coming up to cup my face in its palm, tilting my head up for his better access, he's pinning me down with that heated stare of his, challenging me for a taste.

Will it be sweet? Will it be bitter? Will I crave more once I've tasted him?

Lips descending upon mine before I can stop the momentum, my heart is stuck in the back of my throat as his mouth takes a hold of mine, capturing it, tasting it, begging for entrance.

Like mold in his hands for him to shape into a form of his own desire, I'm so weak I can't fight it. My eyes flicker closed. I give in to his advances. My hands in front of my chest fall down, pushed by his as he goes on a sensual exploration down my body, ending on my hips, pulling me closer and closer to him... until there's no space between us.

We fit. Like lock and key. A perfect symmetry.

Not knowing where this will lead, 
What are we doing? Why am I allowing this? How did this happen?
 I should be wondering. I should be asking myself now. I'm not. 

Breaking the kiss, resting his forehead on mine, he's panting, body shaking.

And I... I'm now cold, with blood inside my veins that's freezing, with soul inside me that's being torn apart. What have I done?

Every caress, every brush of his lips is turning into a scorching bruise. Small bites of guilt are breaking my heart all over again. 

I'm back... under the fistfall of memories. My breath chased out, I am choking for air.

Struggling under his touch, my hands go to his sculpted chest to push him off me.

"Go away." Pleading in a whisper, I'm broken. Doesn't he see it? Doesn't he care?

"What's wrong?" he asks, glowering because, once again, I am denying his right. Alphas should get everything they want. Alphas should always win their battles.

Cold to my very bones, is this how I'll feel every time after he touches me? Is this how it is supposed to be?

"What is wrong, baby doll?" he says, voice softer, hand back to my cheek, cradling it gently. There's not a trace of the anger I've glimpsed a few moments ago. He's back to being sweet and caring. It's what the bond is turning him into.

"Everything's wrong. Everything. This, you, me... it's all wrong." No matter what he does, nothing's ever gonna change.

"I'll make it right again, Scarlet. I promise you I will." Words that are empty of meaning. Pointless just like his struggle will be.

The past can't be forgotten. What he did can't be forgiven. No matter how hard he tries, this battle's already lost.

"You're wasting your time with me, Regan," I tell him the truth.

He chuckles. "I don't think I am and now, when I know you feel the attraction too, I am going to try even harder. I want that - you, and you know I always get what I want."

Is this all a joke to him? Does he think he can snap his fingers and make it all go away?

"Don't look at me like I'm gone mental, Scarlet. I don't have illusions that this will be a walk in the park. I know how hard winning you over is going to be but I also know that I can do it. I will do it. You know I never give up."

Alphas don't give up. Of course, I know. He's the one who taught me this. Day after day. For two years. "Not this time, Alpha. Not this time." This time, he's going to fail.

He steps away from me, narrowing his eyes. "We'll see, Scarlet. Now get those clothes off and let's go to bed."

"I thought you wanted us to talk," I remind him, scowling at the images the idea of sleeping in the same bed with him evoked.

"We will but tonight I'm just going to lay next to you and hold you," he tells me point-blank causing me to groan. "And better get used to it because I'm not going to wait for you forever." Shivering, this is the Alpha I've come to know. Unyielding. 

"Ready or not, I will have my queen one way or the other."

Is this a promise or is it a threat? 

(32) I Dreamed Of You

|Scarlet's POV|

War howls ringing in the quiet of the night, the patrols are calling out for the pack to join in the fight, disrupting the silence of sleep.

My hands trembling, I slip into my clothes. The fear is choking me while I keep listening to people shouting, crying out in pain and surrender. Ears catching every sound, not a single voice of my pack mates manages to repeat the plea. Just once and they end in silence.

What is happening?

We haven't been under attack for a long time, the last I could remember has been years ago and then it was just a couple of rogues who breached the territory. This doesn't sound like a rogue attack.

No, this is war. A war raging in the very heart of our territory.

I run out of my room, the one next to mine, my stepdad's chamber is left open as if he's made his way out in a rush. Not surprisingly, he's been one of the first to join the battle. Even after losing his mate he hasn't given up. His protective instincts still alive, he has kept his strength somehow. Maybe it's the knowledge that he needed to be which kept him strong. He couldn't step down yet, at least not until I was ready.

I'm not ready. I haven't even changed yet.

I count the few lost seconds as I wonder if I should do what every juvenile in the pack is supposed to do in this kind of situation but quickly dismiss the idea. I'm not training to be a coward. Even if I am small and too young to be a part of the fight, there's no way I will hide tonight. No one who is supposed to take over a pack should retreat in hiding as the men face the threat. It just doesn't work this way.

As soon as I step out of the house I see the wreckage. Half of our warriors are laying on the ground, fallen in their defeat. A bloody mess, yet an honorable way to die.

I take out my blades, letting out a vicious shriek. I can't manage a growl considering I'm still one of the unshifted wolves but in my own way, I'm as dangerous as any wolf. I jump to my father' side, flanking him as he battles the perpetrator wolves, canines menacingly bared in a statement that could not be clearer.

I'm not as strong, not as big a threat as a full grown wolf is, but my daggers are sharp, slicing through fur. They stick in, probing into their flesh with efficiency.

My father and I are making our way through the masses of furry shadows, leaving a bloody trail behind. The perpetrators are getting weaker, dying helped by us. Our warriors are winning their fights, as brave and ferocious as they are supposed to be.

Just a few of the wolves are still standing now, their efforts ending in despair as we taunt them with attacks meant to hurt but not kill, not yet. Victorious in our howls.

I join in the song, my lips parting and letting out a sound more animalistic than any I have produced before. The thrill is like nothing I can describe. To be a part of this is something I never dared imagine, yet, now that I am experiencing it, I want more of it. More battles, more blood to bathe my skin.

The very thought is terrifying and gruesome but somehow it's what I need. Something deep inside me is whispering that truth and I, for once, am willing to accept it.

And then, as if from the very pits of hell, the howl of victory is drowned in a litany of growls, their voices louder than our own.

They descend upon us from the darkness, emerging from behind the treeline. Hundreds of them, probably standing spectators to the battle till the very end only to announce the fight is far from over, the victory is nothing but a trick they played on us.

A wolf, black as night in color and in form bigger than any I've seen, is leading them. His paws hitting the drizzle-soaked ground with thunder. A god descended from his throne to quench the fire, his wolf eyes are glowing with a spark that speaks of all things evil. Green with specks of yellow, lighter in their animal reflection of the man, they take a slow perusal of our battered group. His canines flash white and a strange, a near laugh-like, sound comes out.

He is mocking us, telling us without actually uttering any words...

You bow down to me. You surrender. Or you die.

My father's wolf growls in response to the threat, his body stiffening as he prepares for the other's attack. My hands clasp my blades tighter until it hurts.

With a soft, promising rumble, the black wolf lunges at my father.

I swing... again and again until I can no longer hold onto the steel.

A single, dying cry is heard as the last of our men falls and two strong arms take a grip of me to drag me screaming to the pole standing a hundred feet from the house.

The fire inside me still burning, the shame of the collar fastened around my neck is unacceptable. A girl collared like a dog as the enemy rejoices in their victory. That's who I am suddenly.

"You stay here and learn to obey, little one," the green-eyed monster tells me before leaving me to rot on the pole for days to come.

I stay there. Wounded and bleeding, shaking with something I can't face yet... loathing the sun that sheds its rays on me day after day and cursing the Moon night upon night... weeping for my loss and screaming out my anger that can't be contained.

Someone joins in the shouting, a voice from far away, from a time different than the one I've returned to. It is a voice I recognise, one that has been haunting my nightmares for months.

That collar is tight around my neck, suffocating me with its burning grip on my sore flesh as the restraints are holding my hands in place, not to hurt myself.

The shouting becomes louder. Words I can't understand yet. But slowly their meaning registers in my mind.

"Wake up, baby doll. Wake up. It's just a dream, princess," they are saying with desperation.

As I open my eyes, the haze is lifted and replaced with another. The eyes from my dream are staring down at me, the restraints are nothing else but his hands clasped over mine.

"It was just a dream, baby girl," he promises, hugging me closer to himself, swinging us back and forth in an attempt to calm me. Like a mother waking over her child.

Just a dream... A nightmare... It's what he says it is but he's wrong.

"What did you dream of?" he asks with concern. He's worried, that much is evident on his face. It's pale and scared. A look I've seen just a couple of times on him. A look that does not become him.

"You. I dreamed of you," I whisper, choking on the words.

(33) The Healer's Truth

|Scarlet's POV|

He's seeking help. Now, when he knows just how broken I am, he wants me to heal. He's searching for an answer and praying for a cure for my illness but nothing can cure me of my own memories.

What can he do to make me forget?

I'm stand in the hall outside our pack doctor's office while they talk. I don't know what they are speaking about - the office is soundproof for a reason, but I can guess. He's probably telling Doc what's wrong with me, asking how I can be healed, not realizing that the only cure there is for me is to be away from him.

Being close to him has brought all these memories back. Being back at the place where it all happened has made me live in a new type of nightmare, one that has a very distinctive, very unique taste.

It tastes like him.

He doesn't realize that I am an addict, that just like an addict, being away is the only remedy there is for me.

They emerge from behind the door, Doc holding it for Alpha to pass as my mate points a concerned look my way. Soon enough, realizing his slip, he plasters a smile on his face. Faking it like I am faking being someone else and not the broken girl he's rendered me to.

Alpha steps up to me, placing his hands on my shoulders. He leans closer, his lips brushing my cheek, he whispers, "Just listen to what she has to say, Scarlet. Talk to her."

I nod, not daring to look into his eyes. It's hard to do that after the nightmare. It's like everything he did to me is coming back when the least I need is to relive it again.

I told him I didn't want to do this but he isn't someone who will just listen, no matter that he's now demanding it from me. To listen.

This isn't going to change anything.

"Go in." Giving me a light push, he's still smiling at me. I take a tentative step. Doc is holding her office door open, now for me.

She is a small, frail woman looking to be in her mid-thirties. It's possible for her to be this exact age too. Healers age faster than normal wolves. They are different. More magical than the rest. But magic always has its price.

The path they walk is difficult, the burden they carry heavier, taking its toll on them day after day, draining them of life as they give it away to others who need it more at the time.

I have seen the woman before but never been in actual contact with her, perhaps because they never brought me here and, being a healer, she never meddled with pack affairs. However, this is what she has been meant to do. Heal. Regardless.

She never did this for me. Heal me. It's a complete miracle I survived Alpha's care on my own.

I get inside her cabinet, responding to her welcoming smile with a slight nod as she motions for me to take a seat opposite her desk. A glass door leads to the examining area but since I haven't been physically hurt there's no need for us to go there.

The strong smell of antiseptic and medicine is lingering in the air. It doesn't seem to be bothering her but it does bother me, my nose sensitive enough to be overwhelmed.

I take the indicated seat as she closes the door and comes behind the wooden desk to sit on hers. She fiddles through the folder on the desk, turning a few pages and stopping at a blank sheet, then takes the pen laying next to it, ready to take notes.

Being on display to her piercing stare, about to be internally examined, my mind to be probed from each side, to be disclosed in view for her to see all the holes and dark spots in it, this feels uncomfortable. Awkward even.

She is my therapist and I am her patient. She needs to heal me and I need to be healed. The problem is that I'm not sick, not really. There isn't an illness growing like cancer inside me. It's just me. I am the tumor.

Taking my time to inspect the framed diplomas on the walls, I feel her gaze studying me behind the half-moon glasses, the woman putting into use all the degrees she's accumulated over the years.

I have no idea what is it she can see. If she sees the girl or if she sees the cancer.

"Well, Scarlet. I guess we can begin now," she says with a soft voice, her lips stretching into a warm, comforting smile.

Her pale blond hair restrained in a french braid, a set of intelligent blue eyes behind the glasses, a baby pink lipstick on her mouth and then the beige suit she's wearing, she's sunk into the role she's been asked to play in front of me.

Responding to her smile with my own, "Sure, let's get started but first things first," I say evenly. "Can I ask a question?"

Slowly nodding, a small line is forming on her forehead as she contemplates me. "Go ahead, Scarlet. I'll always be here to hear out your concerns. This is what we healers do," she assures but I know better.

All this time, I've seen exactly what she's been here to do and heal is just a small fraction of it.

She has watched, she has been noting how much I can take from the torture in that notebook of hers. Scribing down the proof like my life was just some kind of experiment to her. She was the observer and I was the main subject of her science.

"What healers do." Echoing, bitterness is dripping from my voice. "You are a healer and healing is what you do, what you've been born to do. It's how you serve Her..." I trail off, venom poisoning my words into silence. Perhaps, it's not my place to question it but I can't not do it. "But it's not only the Moon you serve, though, is it? You place your Alpha before Her, don't you?"

"I can assure you I haven't strayed from her path, Scarlet. If this is your concern, then I can guarantee you that I am a healer following Her biddings. I've never hurt anyone." Her words are plausible, the excuse as good as any in her place could give, but her voice is weak. Her eyes don't look at me when she says it, her hands are now hidden under that desk, probably resting in her lap.

She may not have hurt anyone, not directly, but she knows she has caused pain.

"You watched and you did nothing to help me. You took notes and documented my suffering but you stayed silent. You didn't do anything to stop him."

"There was nothing I could do, Scarlet."

"There was so much you could do, healer." Leaning over the desk, closer to her, I am sure she can feel my breath fanning over her skin, my hate for all that she is scorching on that aging face. "You could have taken care of me, helped me heal the wounds he inflicted, 
healer
," I hiss out, hoping it stings, it burns, does so much more than that.

"The Moon has seen you and is going to punish you for what you did- what you didn't do, just like She's punishing me now with him. You just wait and see."

She's trembling. Her face pale like the Moon's on a winter's night. She knows where her fault lays.

"I tried, Scarlet." A whisper. "That night when the men brought you back from town, half-dead, I tried to heal you."

"Bullshit!"

Shaking her head, her glasses has slid down her nose, nothing obstructing our direct contact now. Blue eyes staring up at gray.

"No, Scarlet. I'm not lying. I snuck to your room that night. I really tried but... My healing wouldn't work on you. There was nothing I could do. Please, I'm saying the truth."

Do I trust her? How can I know she's not lying?

I don't.

"What is he making you do now?" I motion towards the door behind which he is waiting for me.

"He wants me to heal you, Scarlet," she stutters.

"You said your healing abilities don't work on me," I point out. She's been lying and now is getting mixed in these lies.

"They don't. Or at least, they didn't the last time I tried."

Raising a brow at that, does she think I'm stupid? "And now I guess they'll suddenly work. How very convenient."

"I don't know if my abilities will work. The tests are..." she snaps her mouth shut.

"The tests? What tests, healer?"

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, I need to try to find out if they would." Rising from her seat, she comes around her desk to stand in front of me.

"May I?" she inquires, lifting her right hand and bringing it to my forehead.

I nod, giving her permission to do whatever it is she does and her palm rests on my skin.

Closing her eyes, she's breathing deeply, expression one of deep concentration as I fight the compulsion to wrap my own hand around her neck and bring her closer.

Now that she's so close, her scent is stronger in the office that smells of antiseptic. Underneath the other scents, hers is alluring to my senses with the promise of hunger fulfilled, a hunger I've forgotten but now is back.

"I need you to relax and let me in," she says softly, not prying her eyes to look at me but continuing her meditation.

"How am I supposed to do this?"

"Close your eyes. Breathe. Clear your mind from thoughts. That's all there is."

Following her advice, I do as she says, waiting for something, anything. There's just a moment, a fraction of the second when I can feel warmth traveling from where her palm lays on my forehead, to my skin.

It's not uncomfortable but neither is it a nice sensation.

"Let it flow in. Don't fight it," she instructs quietly and though I don't see her face now I can almost hear the smile in her voice.

Slouching in my seat, my body is slowly relaxing and then, as if I've been zapped, I feel heat flooding in, retreating as soon as it comes. A woman is screaming.

I open my eyes only to see her - the healer, holding her hand up in front of her. The same hand that touched me.

The skin is red and peeling off her flesh as if it's been burned.

Did I do this to her?