Bad Moon Rising (8 page)

She was a spell caster with a talent for food. In a way it made sense—she could whip up a recipe with the best of them. Make up her own, too.

There was magic in the concoctions she created. It’d taken her years to realize that. And still, the thing she should be able to depend on—her instinct—continued to be deficient.

She was standing in the pantry thinking about making fudge, when Trey came back. He moved so silently, she didn’t hear him. He was just there, his arms wrapping around her waist and lips nuzzling her neck.

The memorable heat unfurled in her belly, and she relaxed against him, enjoying the swirl of his tongue over her pulse. He pulled her into the sunlit kitchen and she blinked, at the glare or his setting her away she wasn’t sure.

“Okay,” he said, his voice strained with tension. “Here’s the deal.

You can go back to work, but you’ll have someone with you at all times.”

She expelled a pent up sigh of relief and launched herself at him.

Yes!
With her legs wrapped his waist, she held his face in her hands and rained kisses over him. “Thank you! I’m going crazy here!”

He laughed and walked towards the old scarred table. “I know.”

He set her on the edge and tugged her shirt over her head, pausing a moment to admire how her nipples pebbled under his gaze.

“I can relate,” he growled softly.

She arched her back, offering herself to him, and murmured,

“Anyone could walk in on us.”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

Her laugh ended on a startled gasp when his lips found her breast, his tongue circling it before he sucked the tip into his mouth. She was suddenly primed and ready, and fumbled with the snap on his jeans. It popped open, she tugged the zipper down, and then her hand circled his cock. With the shock of contact, he bit down on her nipple and she yelped, squeezing him hard. He shoved into her grip.

“Yes,” he hissed. “Like that.”

So many people were in and out of the house these days that she expected someone to walk in at any moment. It added to her excitement 55

Bad Moon Rising: Lunar Mates Book 2

and her pussy was screaming for attention. He managed to get her shorts off without taking his mouth from her breasts or slowing the thrusts in her hand.
Hurry, hurry, hurry
beat like a mantra through her head. When his fingers found her clit, she cried out his name. He lifted her and thrust into her, spinning around to sit on the edge of the table. Gasping, she threw her head back and shuddered around him. Lost in her own orgasm, she barely registered his groan when he came. They collapsed back onto the table together. She smiled dreamily. She’d never look at this old table in quite the same way again.

56

Loribelle Hunt

She entered the back door of the bakery, glad to be here, but already missing Trey. The kitchen was empty, its steal surfaces gleaming from a recent cleaning. Remembering her promise, she locked the door and called to check in. At ten, the morning rush had mostly passed. She followed the low buzz of conversations from out front where Milo and the local lingerers greeted her warmly. She sighed. It was good to be back.

Pouring a cup of coffee and grabbing a Danish, she returned to the office and her desk. Paperwork had piled up in her short absence—bills and order confirmations, delivery change notices and miscellaneous mail, the week’s receipts. She rifled through the junk mail first, dropping it in a small can at her feet, then pulled out her check ledger and paid the bills.

She noted a couple of delivery schedule changes on the large desk calendar and turned to last week’s books.

At least business hadn’t suffered while she was gone. As a matter of fact, it increased; the small town equivalent to rubber necking.
I should
get shot at more often.
She grimaced. Aside from the unpleasantness of repeating the whole ordeal, she could only imagine Trey’s reaction. He’d probably hide her away on some desert island.
Hmm…an idea with merit
.

She could go for some isolated tropical time with Trey. She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and smiled. Yes, a Bahama Mama, some white sand, Trey, and no one else around sounded pretty damned good.

“Well, don’t you look content?” Meg drawled.

She cracked an eye open and half glared at the interruption before 57

Bad Moon Rising: Lunar Mates Book 2

sitting up and turning her full attention on Meg. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked defensive. Wonderful. Tara had a few things to say to her baby cousin, and now was as good a time as any.

“Have a seat,” she said, nodding at the chair in front of her desk.

Steps reluctant, Meg moved towards the chair and gripped its back.

“You’re still pissed at me, huh?” she asked.

Tara sighed, anger dissipating like wind from her sails. It was impossible for her to stay angry with anyone for a week, much less one of her cousins. She looked contrite at least. With Summer gone, it was left to her to fill Meg in on some of the bigger Duveau family secrets.

“Sit down, Meg,” she said wearily. “Do you remember Grandpa Jack? Tinnie’s husband?”

Tara saw nothing but avid curiosity on Meg’s face, and no wonder.

Jack was persona non grata with her and Summer. She watched Meg sip her cappuccino, and took a fortifying sip of her own now cold coffee.

“Jack was a werewolf.”

“What?” Meg cried out the question and jumped to her feet. The chair scraped across the floor and Tara winced at the sound. It seemed to go well with the conversation. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

She took a steadying breath, arranged the timeline in her mind, and started talking. She told her everything. How Jack was rarely around, how he disappeared when Tinnie got sick and never came back. How she and Summer had tried to track him down, but had gotten nowhere in their search. When she finished, Meg looked back at her, shock plain in her wide‐eyed expression.

“Trey is your mate. And Darius is mine. Do you suppose Summer has one?” She shook her head and paced. “I don’t know enough. This can’t be common, even for werewolves. Is it because we’re witches, or because Jack was one of them?”

Tara shrugged. “Summer would be the one to ask probably, and I doubt we’ll be seeing much more of her.”

She picked at the Danish on her desk, then looked up to catch Meg watching her suspiciously.

“There’s more,” Meg said.

58

Loribelle Hunt

Tara bit back a bitter laugh. Must be nice to have reliable intuition.

“Do you know much about them yet? Their hierarchy for example?

Have they told you about the rogue?”

She nodded. “I saw it. Darius said it was Bradley Jones. Who’d have thought? I never had any idea.” So her intuition wasn’t completely whacked out.

“And hierarchy…Darius is the Alpha. Eric is the Beta.” She cocked her head to the side. “And I’m not sure what Trey is, but they all defer to his judgment.”

“He’s a Hunter,” Tara said softly. Meg stopped in her tracks and went back to her chair. Catching Tara’s gaze, she leaned forward.

“All right, spill. You’ve got that ‘it couldn’t be worse’ tone going on.”

“They’re a…special organization, I guess you’d say, of werewolves who hunt these rogues. Jack was a Hunter.” She paused. “They’re supposed to retire when they mate. The bond shouldn’t let them stand that kind of separation.” She shrugged and added bitterly, “That didn’t seem to stop, Jack.”

“Ah, I think I see.” Meg leaned back in her chair, resting her elbows on the arms. She arched an eyebrow. “Trey isn’t Jack. I don’t see him taking off. He’s relentless, steadfast.”

She closed her eyes and heard the conviction in Meg’s voice.

Among the cousins, her ability to read people was superior, and they’d learned not to question it. But what did that mean really? She already knew he was unyielding and committed. But where would his loyalty ultimately lie? With her or the Hunters? Her grandfather had picked them. Trey could too. Did she really want him to stick around, anyway?

Part of her craved him, but part of her was damned suspicious of anything resembling happily ever after. Hell, she didn’t know anymore.

The chair creaked and she opened her eyes to see Meg standing.

She tossed the paper coffee cup in a nearby trashcan and picked up her bag.

“I’ve got to get the bar. Are you going to be okay?”

She smiled and knew it was a weak effort. “I’ll be fine.”

59

Bad Moon Rising: Lunar Mates Book 2

After allowing herself a minute to wallow in self‐pity, she returned to the books. The first day after the shooting business had gone way up. It gradually trickled back down to more normal levels in the following days.

The increase had leveled off in the last couple of days, and she hoped that meant she’d gained a few new regulars. She was adjusting the next week’s orders when the phone jangled. She heard Milo answer it, and a second later he stuck his head through the door.

“It’s some insurance guy for you on line one. He said it’s about your window.”

“Thanks, Milo. I got it.” She reached for the phone as disappeared around the door.

“Tara Burke,” she said into the receiver.

“Ms. Burke,” a nasally male voice said. “My name is Andrew Smith from National Insurance. I’m the adjuster assigned to your case.”

“Yes, of course. What can I do for you, Mr. Smith?”

“Well, I need to have a look at the house, and I have some forms you’ll need to fill out. I’m passing through town now on my way to another meeting. I could fit you in if you can meet me at your house.

Otherwise it will be at least two weeks before I can get to it.”

Crap. Two weeks with a boarded‐up front window. Trey would kill her if she went, since he didn’t have anyone watching her today. He’d let her come to work with the understanding that she wouldn’t leave the building. But Jones had disappeared, so what could it hurt to go three blocks over to her house in broad daylight?

“I can be there in five minutes,” she said and hung up.

Telling Milo she’d be back in a few minutes, she grabbed her bag and went out the back door. She paused long enough to lock the door before turning to the opening of the long alley and walking to her SUV. A scurrying sound came from behind her. Too late she realized it was a ploy to get her outside and alone before she got completely turned around.

Bradley Jones’ face flashed in front of her before the world went dark.

* * * * *

60

Loribelle Hunt

It was late afternoon when she woke. It took her a moment to remember what happened. Lying motionless, she tried to breath as if she was still knocked out, and cracked her eyes open enough to peak around.

She was on a narrow cot pushed against the back corner of what appeared to be a one‐room cabin about twenty‐five by twenty‐five feet. She was alone. Standing, she grabbed her pounding head and stumbled to the closest grimy window. Wiping it with the edge of her shirt, she peered outside. Woods. Unfamiliar woods at that. She could be in any hunting shack in south Alabama. Damn.

She started for the front door. It flung open before she reached it, and she shrank back. Bradley Jones stalked in and she unsteadily retreated until the backs of her legs once again hit the bed. Flinging the door closed behind him, his eyes flickered over her, but he didn’t utter a word. Instead he carried a grocery sack to the kitchenette on the opposite wall and unloaded a six‐pack of Coke and some deli sandwiches. He set two of each on the small table and nodded at her.

“Sit. Eat.”

Her stomach rebelled at the thought. Whether from the hit on the head or her current circumstances she didn’t hazard a guess. Rather than anger him, she walked to the table with ginger steps, careful not to jar her pounding head. Once seated, she reached for one of the subs and unwrapped it. Jones dove into his while she picked hers apart. Expecting to need energy to get away, she tried to force her usual hearty appetite to appear. She nibbled some of the ends and popped the top of the Coke.

She wondered where Trey was. Probably freaking out by now and looking for her. He better hurry. She wasn’t waiting around for him to come to the rescue. Her instincts were screaming at her to get away now and for once, she was confident they were right.

Glancing up, she caught Jones staring at her. His eyes were too bright and he was a little ripe, but otherwise he looked normal.

“You don’t look like him,” he said.

She blinked in confusion. “Like who?”

“Your grandfather. Jack Wilder.”

“My grandfather was Jack Duveau.”

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Bad Moon Rising: Lunar Mates Book 2

He snorted. “Don’t be stupid girl. You had to know what he was, and I’m sure your mate checked it out. And came up with nothing.”

She inhaled sharply, curiosity warring with the need to flee. Was he just guessing or well informed? And why was he talking about Jack like he knew he was dead? They didn’t even know that for sure.

“You knew my grandfather?”

He laughed, the sound grating like nails on a chalkboard, and the hair on the nape of her neck stood on end. His eyes looked wild, and she realized he was insane or so close to it the difference didn’t matter.

“I can take you to him,” he said slyly. “Maybe I will after I take care of Trey Williams. No one said you had to live”

And she knew what happened to Jack. “You killed him.”

“Of course,” he said, grinning evilly and spreading his arms wide.

“This town wasn’t big enough for the both of us. For such a famous Hunter, he was very easy to kill.”

She gasped, shocked at the hurt that speared her heart. He’d sucked as a husband. So what? He was still her grandfather. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and lurched, gagging, to the sink. Turning the tap on, she scrunched over and stuck her mouth under the faucet, gulping water and spitting it out.

She rested her elbows on the edge of the sink and hung her head, taking deep breaths. A flash of blue caught the corner of her eye and she canted her gaze to see an old‐fashioned porcelain teapot. Behind her she sensed as much as heard Jones move and knew her time was limited. The idea flew through her so fast she didn’t stop to consider it. Grabbing the handle of the pot, she spun as Jones leapt. In slow motion she saw the round bottom crash into his skull. His eyes rolled back and he slid to the floor.