Blood Moon (24 page)

“Wolves,” I supplied, annoyance haloing the
word. “I dreamt about wolves. I’ve dreamt about the damned things
for almost two weeks. Ever since my attack.”

Nick shrugged, dropping his face, but
keeping his eyes locked on mine. “And you never once asked yourself
why you’ve been having these dreams?”

I dropped my knees in front of me,
crisscrossing my legs and leaning away from the headboard to get in
his face without getting too close. “I was
traumatized.
I
was attacked in the park one night, remember?”

“That’s not why you’re dreaming about them,
Brooke,” he informed me. I laughed humorlessly, shaking my head and
leaning back again as I clutched the sheet to my chest. “And what
you
think
was a dream last night… well, it wasn’t.”

Confused, my eyebrows pulled together and my
face screwed up. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Nick looked nervous as he continued to stall
his explanation, and it pissed me off. With an aggravated growl, I
threw my legs over the edge of the bed, but the sheet tangled and I
stumbled. Nick was quick to grab my arm and keep me from falling. I
tried to yank it away from him, but his grip was strong, and he
held me tight, locking his eyes with mine.

Breathing heavily, I was pulled into the
depth of his stare, admiring the amber rings around the inner edge
of his aqua-colored irises until they seemed overtaken. Something
clicked into place just then, the amber color sparking a memory of
eyes the same color against sandy-brown fur and a night sky. My
eyes widened as I stepped back, forcing him to release my arm.

“No,” I whispered, shaking my head in
disbelief. “That’s impossible.”

“Is it, Brooke? Think about it.”

“Are you high?” I demanded, ignoring the
beginning niggle in the back of my mind that ordered me to hear him
out. “What exactly are you trying to say? That I’m—what?—a
werewolf
?”

Nick’s silence told me that he believed
this, and I laughed hysterically. “You’ve lost your damn mind,” I
told him through my fit of laughter, but he remained serious, and
this sobered me. “Oh, god. You actually
believe
this is
possible, don’t you?”

“You wanted me to tell you what happened,
and I am. That night in the woods…it was no ordinary wolf that
attacked you. Deep down, you
know
this. You just refuse to
admit it to yourself.”

I tried to tell myself that he was
wrong—that he had absolutely no idea what he was talking about—but
that little feeling kept pushing through my denial. It clawed its
way to the surface, until my dreams from last night resurfaced.

At first, the colors seemed wavy and warped,
and my vision looked tunneled again. It was disorienting at first,
but I quickly adjusted. Trees snapped by at an alarming rate, and
when I looked down, I didn’t see human feet, but paws covered in
red fur disrupting the dirt, leaves, and grass…

I gasped, backing up until I slammed into
Nick’s dresser, and I looked up at him to see him waiting patiently
for me to piece it all together and believe it.

“Tell me what you remember,” he urged
gently.

“I…I’m not sure.” I dove back into the
vision, finding this wolf in the middle of the desert.

A bush to the right rustled and a low growl
filled the air. It was confusing and the red wolf seemed taken by
surprise. A darker, almost brown wolf stepped out, its yellow eyes
wide and curious, and its pink tongue hanging out the side of its
mouth in a way that seemed non-threatening. This didn’t stop the
red wolf from leaping anyway, its instinct to survive taking over.
I didn’t understand how I was able to feel what this wolf did or
why I saw things from its point of view, but, like a runaway train,
there was no stopping the images from playing out in my mind.

With a loud growl from the red wolf, they
collided before rolling through the dirt as both wolves fought for
dominance. Teeth snapped and feral growls filled the forest,
causing birds and other critters to flee. Fur flew every which way
and finally the red wolf’s teeth sunk in at the apex of the darker
wolf’s neck and shoulders. It wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, and
for some odd reason, I felt the memory of warm blood wash over my
tongue. Before the red wolf could bite down harder, the brown one
fought back, its teeth piercing its attacker’s right shoulder and
causing it to yelp…

The sting breached the barrier to reality,
bringing me back to the here and now, and I looked down at my
now-throbbing right shoulder. There were already-healing teeth
marks amongst the myriad of other pink wounds that had almost fully
healed. They were sensitive to the touch, and just as the first of
several tears fell, Nick took my hand, pulling it toward him and
pressing it over the wounds at the apex of his neck and shoulder.
They were warm to the touch, my palm tingling, and a bizarre twinge
of guilt paralyzed me.

If what he’s saying is true,
I
did
that.

No. It was impossible.

He was feeding me a bullshit story. He
had
to be. I didn’t care how vivid and real the dreams over
the last couple weeks had felt, none of this could be real.

Can’t it?
a voice from deep in my
head inquired, trying to make itself known as I continued to pass
off Nick’s ramblings as those of a crazy person. Denial flooded my
entire body again, muting any progress I might have made toward
accepting what I’d just learned, and my labored breathing filled
the room. My fingers traced the upraised pink marks along his
strong neck and shoulders, following them down his chest, and I
clenched my eyes shut as hot tears streamed silently down my
cheeks.

“Brooke,” Nick whispered, bringing his large
hand up to cup my face. His thumb brushed the wetness from my cheek
while his fingers reached around the back of my neck and tangled in
my hair.

Even though I shouldn’t have, I leaned into
his touch and allowed him to pull me forward. His eyes remained
locked on mine, and I could tell that he understood exactly what I
was going through.

Whatever that was. I still wasn’t even sure
I
understood it.

Confusion clouded my judgment as he pulled
me even closer. We stood so close, I could feel the heat from of
his body, smell the lingering sweat on his skin. Every breath I
took filled my lungs with a heavenly scent. It wasn’t just the
scent that was uniquely Nick, but something else I couldn’t quite
place.

It wasn’t until I looked deep into his eyes
and felt the way one of his hands gripped my hip that I figured it
out. Apparently, along with fear and excitement, I was capable of
picking up the scent of his lust and desire.

The fog of Nick’s desire blanketed me in an
instant, and it was beyond inappropriate, but I couldn’t help but
fantasize about kissing him. I was still angry and hurt about our
past, not to mention whatever happened last night, but the urges
were strong. It all felt beyond my control.

As Nick moved closer, my skin warmed and
goosebumps rippled up my arms and down over the rest of my body. It
was all so intense, but the minute his soft lips brushed against
mine, reality slapped me, forcing me to stumble away from him.

David.

Sniffling, I held the sheet around me while
harshly tugging at the roots of my hair. “I-I have to go,” I
murmured, my voice hoarse and cracking with every confusing emotion
that still coursed through my body.

Denial. Possibility. Desire. But most
prominently,
guilt.

“Brooke, we should talk about this,” Nick
said, taking a step back and giving me some much-needed space. “You
don’t understand how serious this is.”

“How serious what is?” I demanded, letting
denial win this round. “Do you realize how crazy all of this
sounds? Do you really expect me to believe all of this?”

Nick looked surprised—like he actually
expected me to just accept everything he tried to tell me. “How can
you not believe it?” he asked.

“How
can
I?” I shouted. “You’re
asking me to believe in werewolves, Nick. It’s ridiculous.”

“Is it?”

“Yes!”

Nick’s eyes narrowed in challenge as they
met and held my gaze. “How have you been feeling?”

I balked at the question, my mouth opening
and closing as I struggled to reply. This seemed to amuse him, and
he arched an eyebrow triumphantly. “Craving red meat? Increased
sense of smell? Taste? How’s your eyesight and hearing?”

Staring at him, slack-jawed, my heart
pounded furiously as I tried to speak, but no sound came out. How
could he possibly know about any of that? Once again ignoring the
possibility that he might be telling the truth, and suppressing
that inner voice that really worked to make itself known, I tossed
my head back and forth defiantly. “That doesn’t mean anything. Low
iron can make you crave red meats, and as for my senses—”

Nick chuckled. “You tell yourself whatever
you have to if it helps you sleep at night.”

Anger coursed through my veins, and I glared
at him. “You know what? Screw you, Nick. I never asked for any of
this, and I sure as hell don’t need to sit here and listen to you
feed me some bullshit story about werewolves.”

To my surprise, Nick’s amused expression
disappeared, replaced by one of sadness. “I know you didn’t ask for
this, and I’m
sorry,
” he replied gently, “but now that—”

I couldn’t listen to him tell me everything
again, because if I did, I was afraid I’d start to believe him. And
I was already going back and forth on that front. “N-no,” I said,
covering my ears like a crazy person trying to block out the voices
in her head to no avail. “I can’t hear this again. I have to get
home.” I glanced up at him to see he looked…rejected, and the urge
to take him by the hand and console him consumed me, but I
refrained.

“Is this about him?” The question came out
of left field, and the tone of Nick’s voice was like a punch to the
gut. I found it weird that it had this affect on me; we’d been
broken up for seven years. I shouldn’t feel bad about moving on
after all this time.

So why did I?

“Along with my mother and father,” I replied
carefully, hoping to ease that blow. “I’ve been missing all night.
I left a potential crime scene…in
Phoenix
. They’re bound to
be worried, Nick.”

Nick nodded his agreement, his expression
turning cold as steel. “You’re right. You should go.”

I turned to leave the room when I remembered
I only wore his bedsheet. “Um…”

Sighing, he opened his top dresser drawer.
“Right.” He reached in and produced a few things. “I know they’re
not yours, but they’re better than that sheet.”

I accepted the clothes and gasped when I
recognized the old concert T-shirt as one I used to wear all the
time. Fond memories of those early years together washed over me,
forcing a smile to my face. “You still have this,” I whispered,
placing it to my chest sentimentally.

“Of course.”

“But it doesn’t even fit you—it hasn’t for
some time,” I reminded him, recalling the time I dared him to try
it on and he looked ridiculous with it plastered to his upper body
while his lower abdomen showed.

His eyes appeared sad as he laughed
nervously, scratching at the back of his head. “It’s always held a
bit of sentimental value,” he confessed before turning away from
me. “The, uh, bathroom’s down the hall and to the left. I’ll give
you a ride home when you’re done.”

“Uh…I think it might be best if I didn’t get
a ride home from my ex. I’m still not sure what I’m going to tell
David, but I do know that if he sees you, he’ll jump to all the
wrong conclusions, and I’m not ready to deal with that right now. I
can call a cab.”

“Did you happen to swallow your wallet
before you changed last night?” Nick asked, once again reminding me
of the one thing I tried to deny.

“Um…”

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.
I’ll pay for your cab…on one condition.” I met his eyes once more
and saw how serious he was. “You’ll meet with me again. Don’t
ignore me, Brooke, because you don’t understand just how dangerous
this part of you is. I can help you learn how to control it.”

The entire situation was still pretty
unbelievable, but hearing the conviction in his voice every time he
talked about it made me waver. There was a very large part of
me—the rational part—that continued to refuse to believe that
another world existed within our own.

Or that I was somehow a part of it.

I wanted to continue to deny that any of
this was happening to me, but the memories kept coming, each one
more vivid than the last. That definitely made it more difficult
for me to do. If I had to be entirely honest, I wanted to tell him
I still didn’t believe him, all in an effort to ignore it in hopes
that it would all go away and things would return to normal.

I didn’t, though. I nodded instead, hoping
to placate him long enough to get him to let me leave.

When he seemed content with my response, I
headed to the washroom to clean myself up before pulling on the
clothes he gave me. I looked in the mirror for a minute after
dropping the sheet around my feet, and I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The pink marks were slowly disappearing, looking more like light
scratches, and my skin was marred with streaks of dirt and grass. I
would need to shower when I got home.

I dressed and found his shirt still fit the
same as it did back then—a little loose, but comforting and it
smelled like him—and the shorts he’d given me were a few sizes too
big in the waist and really long in the leg. I remedied that by
rolling the waistband of them a few times until they sat on my hips
and fell to about mid-thigh. I looked ridiculous, but it was
definitely better than finding my way home in a filthy dirt and
grass-stained bedsheet. How horrible would
that
have
looked?