Beneath a Blood Moon (44 page)

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Authors: R. J. Blain

Tags: #Fiction, #Urban Fantasy

BOOK: Beneath a Blood Moon
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I grabbed my seatbelt and unfastened it. The skirts of my dress hampered my efforts to get to the front of the limousine. My wolf fed me her strength, and I tore through the silk a little above my knees. The driver pointed the gun in my direction, but my wolf was ready.

With her driving me on, I lunged for the Inquisitor’s throat.

He fired, missing me. Diving through the partition, I grabbed for the weapon, snarling profanities I couldn’t hear thanks to the ringing in my ears. My wolf’s fury at the cold numbness that had replaced the warmth of my mate in my head blinded me to everything other than our enemy.

Once again, the Inquisitor’s mouth moved, but I couldn’t hear what he said.

Closing one hand around his throat, I snatched the gun with the other, grabbing the barrel and yanking it out of his hand. The weapon was hot and burned my fingers. The pain fueled my anger, and my wolf encouraged me to rip the Inquisitor’s head off.

Instead, I tightened my hold. The Inquisitor struggled to free himself from my grip, clawing at my wrist with his nails. I growled, not caring I couldn’t hear the noises I made, and kept squeezing until the Inquisitor went limp in my hand. Something cracked in my victim’s neck, but only when my wolf was satisfied he wouldn’t come after us ever again, did I turn to face my mate.

Sanders wasn’t moving.

Taking the gun with me, I crawled into the back of the limousine. Biting on the grip of the gun to free my hand, I fumbled for the buckle of my mate’s seatbelt and released it, shoving the strap aside. With my heartbeat pounding in my head, I touched his throat.

His pulse was strong beneath my fingers. Releasing my breath in a sigh I couldn’t hear, I scrambled over him. Wrapping my hand around the gun’s grip, I settled my finger against the trigger, drew a deep breath, and shoved open the door.

A man in a suit was waiting for me holding a gun pointed in my direction. I bared my teeth, jerked my weapon towards him, and pulled the trigger.

I think it surprised my victim as much as it did me when a dart buried deep in his stomach. He opened his mouth, groping for the cylinder. Unlike my mate, he didn’t manage to pull it out before he crumpled to the ground.

My wolf’s vision was much better than my own at night, but the rising full moon offered its light. I had no idea where we were, but the limousine was near a forest. The road circling a lake or a bay rather than the ocean. While there was a hint of salt in the air, it wasn’t strong. Wherever we were, it wasn’t where we were supposed to be.

In the Hamptons, the scent of the sea was pervasive.

I checked for any other unwanted company. From what little I could make out, something had crunched the hood of the limousine. The passenger side of the car had taken most of the damage. The harsh stench of car fluids burned my nose and obliterated more useful scents, including those indicating how many people might be waiting for us to emerge.

When I didn’t see anyone else in the darkness, I grabbed hold of Sanders’s arm, tugging on him until he slumped on the seat.

His eyes remained closed. My wolf’s worry surged.

Before my wolf had joined with me, I never would have been able to lift or even drag someone like my mate. He was taller than me by at least a few inches, and like me, there wasn’t a single bit of fat on him. He was sleek muscle, which weighed a lot. If I wanted to try to carry him, my shoes had to go. Snarling curses I still couldn’t hear, I kicked my useless heels into the water. They vanished, their ripples washed away by wind-born waves.

With my wolf’s help, I wrestled Sanders out of the limousine and onto the asphalt. Where the road ended, a bank of large boulders and gravel began, leading down to the lake below.

The glare of approaching headlights forced me to retreat towards the shore, and I eased my way down the bank to the winter-chilled water, dragging my mate down on his back, holding him beneath the arms.

Once we were at the bottom of the slope, I had two choices. Farther along the shore, the trees came to the water’s edge, but anyone searching would easily be able to spot me and my mate. My other option was to brave the water and hide among the waves.

My wolf remembered what we had done, and her shame was a match for mine.

Several car doors slammed, and headlights bathed the road above in their glow. Leaving my mate defenseless scared my wolf more than the water, and after securing my hold on Sanders so his head wouldn’t submerge, I backed into the lake. Sharp rocks bit at my feet, but I ignored the pain and moved deeper until my mate’s still body floated. Lowering myself until only my head remained above the surface, I crept away, pulling him with me as I went.

Sanders’s phone died a watery death, refusing to turn on no matter what I did to it. Fighting back tears of frustration, I threw it as hard as I could.

I found no satisfaction in the way it broke apart, metal bits and glass flying in every direction. The faint relief I felt at hearing it crunch faded beneath my worry. Without the phone, I couldn’t call anyone for help. I had no idea what the Inquisitor had used on my mate, but nothing I did woke him up. The water left me cold and shaking.

My wolf tried to coax me into transforming into her shape, which was far better equipped to deal with the cold. Staring at Sanders’s pale face, I considered it before deciding to remain human.

If I became a wolf, I would be dry and warm, but my mate would suffer.

She understood, and her fear for our mate once again surged. While she had fur, I had hands. Hands were needed to care for him and secure a safe place to den. Together, we would figure out what to do.

It took me several tries, but I managed to haul Sanders across my shoulders so I could carry him away from the shore. Dark, quiet forest waited for me, and my wolf was eager to delve into its depths, away from the open water and shore where we were easy prey.

Old trees towered over me, and the moonlight through the bare-branched canopy guided my way. With my wolf’s help, the darkness didn’t bother me. She preferred it to the harshness of sunlight. The prey she enjoyed crunching between her teeth came out at night.

I denied her once again, trembling at the way she lusted for fresh meat, hot blood, and the thrill of the hunt.

“Later,” I informed her between clenched teeth.

Maybe my wolf offered me inhuman strength, but I lacked the endurance to carry my mate for long. I resorted to dragging him, peering around for someplace suitable to den. Once we found a place to hide, I’d consider her request.

If my mate didn’t wake up soon, I would need to keep him warm. If I had fur, I could. Satisfied I was being reasonable, my wolf settled, leaving the matter of denning in my hands.

I found a massive boulder jutting up from the forest floor, worn smooth by the years and weather. Near its base, gnarled thickets offered coverage. Once upon a time, another animal had made its home where the dirt and rock met, digging a cave barely large enough for two humans but plenty spacious for two wolves needing shelter.

Dragging Sanders into the hole, I paused long enough to catch my breath. The idea of stripping in the middle of the forest repulsed me, but I didn’t savor the thought of trying to change into a wolf while dressed. Taking off my rings, I slipped them into my mate’s pocket, drew a deep breath, and welcomed my wolf.

She was eager to take her form, and I clenched my teeth in anticipation of the pain. While the cold helped, it wasn’t enough to spare me from the way my bones snapped and writhed beneath my skin. My tears froze on my cheeks until I shifted enough I grew fur.

When it was over, I shook. My wolf released control, her exhaustion greater than mine. I rose to my paws, braced myself, and shook. Black fur drifted in the air to settle on my mate. At her insistence, I licked my paws and smoothed my coat.

A sprinkling of shedding black fur clung to me, but my coat beneath was pale. In the darkness, I couldn’t tell if it was white, silver, or some other pale color. My paws and the tip of my tail were darker, and with the help of the moonlight, I determined the color to be either red or brown.

Groaning at the stiffness in my bones and muscles, I crawled onto my mate’s stomach and chest, resting my head beside his. I rested my paws on his shoulders, squirming until I was as comfortable as I could make myself. Sighing, I waited, touching my nose to his throat to breathe in his scent. When I licked him, there was a bitter taste to his sweat, and it made my tongue go numb.

With no idea of how to help my mate, I waited.

The memory of falling asleep eluded me. Fangs digging into my throat jerked me awake, and old memories of Rory and Isabella tearing at me frightened a whine out of me. Shuddering, I opened my eyes.

The wolf standing over me could eat me in two or three bites without having to stop and chew. Larger than Wendy and easily more than a match for Rory and Isabella combined, his size intimidated me more than his low, rumbling growl.

When I remembered to breathe, my mate’s scent filled my nose. Going limp with relief, I gawked at him, wondering how he could be so huge. No natural wolf could match him.

I’d seen smaller ponies.

Red fur covered him, as though he had bathed in blood. His paws, nose, tips of his ears, and the end of his tail were pure white. From what little I could see of his back, a black stripe ran along the length of his spine.

His eyes blazed a brilliant sun gold, and when he noticed me watching him, he released my neck, stretched out, and bowed, lifting a paw to bat at my shoulder. The warbling noises he made interested my wolf, and she took over control enough to lurch upright. While she shook off, shedding more black fur, she considered our mate.

There was something odd about his scent, something that worried my wolf, as though the wildness of the forest had somehow infected him. Uncertain, she once again gave me control, and at her encouragement, I took a hesitant step forward, lowered to my belly, and wormed my way beneath his muzzle.

Sanders draped his paw over my shoulders, and with a pleased and contented sigh, he sank down beside me, licking my nose. My fears of being eaten faded, and I leaned my head against his throat. He radiated soothing warmth. Settling in, I took a long look at the den I had chosen. With him so large we barely fit, although the tight confines didn’t seem to bother my mate. Shreds of charcoal and white fabric littered the ground. My gown, which had already been ruined but intact, had likewise suffered. Had Sanders torn it apart before turning his attention to me?

Disconcerted, I wiggled to extricate myself from my mate. He snapped his teeth at me, growling in warning. I froze, turning my ears back and whining. With a heavy sigh, he tugged at my scruff before licking my muzzle. When I remained motionless, he groomed me, shifting his weight off me, though he kept me pinned with a paw.

My wolf adored his attention, encouraging me to roll over and expose my belly to him. While hesitant, I obeyed. Snuffling, Sanders nosed at my stomach, breathing in my scent. His ears pricked forward. Once again, he stretched out his forelegs, bowing down and warbling at me, batting at me with his paw.

I sniffed, and at the pleasure and excitement in his scent, I rolled and stood.

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