Blood Moon (30 page)

“You know, I had that under control,” I told
Nick very matter-of-factly.

He only laughed. “Brooke, you were two
seconds from tearing out his throat.”

My jaw dropped. Not because he was
wrong—because the thought had crossed my mind quite vividly—but
also because, in hindsight of the actual incident, it was such a
violent resolution. I was ashamed I’d even entertained the idea. I
wanted to believe I would never have actually followed through with
it, but I wasn’t so sure. It did seem to be the more dominant
“solution” I could come up with. Dismemberment coming in a close
second.

“I was not,” I denied weakly.

“No?” Nick challenged. “Dismemberment
then?”

Silent, I pressed my lips firmly together,
looking up at Nick sheepishly through my lashes, and he smirked.
The cocky son of a bitch
smirked.

“That’s what I thought.”

We wandered farther into the house, my eyes
moving about and taking it all in for the first time. My head was
in such a foggy state when I had been in a mad rush to leave the
other morning, I never really noticed all of the little details.
Not that this surprised me; a lot had happened, and I wasn’t ready
to accept any of it as the truth.

“Can I get you anything?” Nick offered.
“Coffee? Tea?”

“Um, tea? I probably shouldn’t have caffeine
if I plan to sleep any time soon,” I replied, wrapping my arms
around myself as I continued to look around.

It wasn’t an overly large house, and the
floor plan was pretty basic. The living room was off to the right
of the front door, furnished as only a bachelor pad would
be—leather furniture with glass and chrome coffee and end
tables—and the kitchen was next to it. There was a dining nook that
adjoined the kitchen and living room, and a second entry to the
kitchen off the hall we were currently in. There was also another
hall that exited off this one. What was down it, I didn’t know. I
guessed a bathroom and maybe a bedroom. Upstairs, as I already
knew, housed Nick’s bedroom, a bathroom, and another two rooms.

In addition to the visual details, I also
picked up on the various scents that surrounded me. Obviously, this
place was filled with Nick’s scent, even mine lingered from the
other day—weird—but in addition to ours, I also picked up on a few
others. One of them I immediately recognized as Jackson’s, and it
forced a deep, guttural reaction from me. I may not have DNA
evidence that he was the one who did this to me, but I remembered
with perfect clarity what the wolf that bit me looked like, and I
saw something in his amber eyes earlier that shook me to my
core.

Three other scents I didn’t recognize joined
the others, swirling around me and forcing me into some kind of
sensory overload. I just assumed they belonged to the other guys
that were staying here with Nick.

Nick disappeared into the kitchen, telling
me to make myself at home. This was much easier than it probably
should have been, and I couldn’t quite figure out if that was
because I was in Nick’s space, or if I felt like I belonged
here.

No. I don’t belong here,
I told
myself, the feeling that filled me reminding me an awful lot like
the denial I was working to overcome.
It’s all just familiar
because it’s Nick.

I took a seat on the couch, sitting in the
center of it, and soon, I heard the shrill whistle of the
teakettle. Nick emerged from the kitchen a moment later with two
steaming mugs in his hands and joined me on the sofa. Still
shirtless. Still distracting.

Knowing it was rude to ogle—not to mention
inappropriate since my boyfriend was at home sleeping while I sat
here with my ex—I avoided looking at him, instead focusing on the
rising steam and swirling golden liquid in my cup.

Nick set his mug on the table in front of us
before shifting toward me. He reached out hesitantly, resting his
hand on my forearm. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I croaked, glancing at him. My eyes
wandered south, and I noticed the scars on his torso for the first
time. Some looked like bites, some like cuts and gashes. Then I
realized they were battle wounds from seven years as a werewolf.
“You’re just…well, shirtless.”

This made him laugh. Loudly. My cheeks
warmed, and I avoided his gaze once more. I knew I shouldn’t have
been this uncomfortable around him; it wasn’t like I’d never seen
him without a shirt—or pants, for that matter—before. But this was
different for so many reasons.

“I just woke up, and then I caught your
scent,” he explained, standing up. “I was getting dressed when I
smelled that guy, too. It worried me, especially when I picked up
on your anger, so I rushed outside. I’m sorry.”

Nick disappeared, his heavy footsteps
clomping up the stairs, and when he returned moments later he was
in a black T-shirt that did little to hide the chiseled planes of
his body. So, really, it was no better than being shirtless. I
actually stared even more at his biceps, wondering how the sleeves
of his shirt weren’t ripping under the strain of his muscles.

“I’m glad you came tonight,” he said,
pulling me from the inappropriate thoughts that swirled in my
imagination. “There’s still so much we need to talk about.”

After taking a sip, I set my tea down next
to his and nodded. “I think it’s important for me to get a handle
on this sooner rather than later. I’m still so confused.”

“That’s normal.”

“How long before you could control it?”

Nick paused a minute, running his hands
through his hair. “About two years.”

Hearing this sent my heart plummeting into
my stomach. Two years? While I didn’t expect this to happen
overnight, I definitely didn’t want to have to suffer through this
transition for two years.

“But I was angry and hated that my life had
been uprooted.”

This was something I could relate to.

“I’d just lost my best friend, and then I
was bitten—in the same damn alley—forcing me to—”

What he said registered quickly, and my eyes
snapped to his. “What?” He looked at me, blinking. “You were
attacked in the…” I swallowed thickly, trying to keep my voice even
and calm. “In the same alley that Bobby died in?”

Nick nodded solemnly. “I returned to that
alley almost every night after the cops released the scene from
their investigation. Your dad didn’t seem to be making much
progress, and I was so sure that they had to be missing something.
Every time I showed up, I felt like I was being watched, but no one
ever appeared…until the night I came face to face with a wolf. It
wasn’t your average wolf though. This one was almost twice as big
and built like a brick house. At first, I didn’t know why it
attacked me without hesitation, but now I do.”

“It wanted to change you,” I deduced, but
Nick shook his head.

“He thought I was the thing he was looking
for.”

Nick’s extremely vague explanation prompted
me further. “He?”

“Jackson.”

I scoffed, even more resolute in my
suspicion of Jackson’s involvement in my own attack. He seemed a
little too quick to bite.

“I didn’t think much of it at first, until
the changes started. I didn’t know what to make of it in the
beginning. The heightened senses, my increased strength…” I nodded
along, understanding wholeheartedly what he was saying. “Then
Marcus approached me before the next full moon—my first
transformation.”

“Marcus?” I inquired, unfamiliar with this
new name.

“Our Pack leader.” Nick laughed as if
remembering something. “I thought the man was bat-shit crazy—much
like you thought I was, I suppose. Though, I was a little more
violent about it. Perhaps because, deep down, I knew the truth, and
I was beyond pissed off about it.

“I told him to fuck off and leave me alone,
that I didn’t need him or his bullshit theories…” Nick sighed, and
I saw something familiar in his eyes—something I’d been dealing
with these last few days. I reached out to take his hand. It was
only meant to be a comforting gesture, but Nick threaded his
fingers through mine, smiling as he continued. I knew I should
correct the act, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it. “And when I
woke up the next morning, naked, alone, and in the woods, he was
there. Sitting, fully-clothed, against a tree with his arms resting
on his bent knees. He had this smug look on his face, and I just
lost it.

“I started beating the shit out of him,
accusing him of drugging me—like you’d accused me. I couldn’t
remember anything. I didn’t come around nearly as quickly as you,”
he told me. “I stuck around town for a few more days, and by then,
little fragments of that night started to come back.”

“So you left.” My voice was quiet, barely
audible.

Nick shook his head. “It wasn’t my change
that prompted me to leave,” he admitted sadly. “I thought for sure
I could manage it. I mean, changing once a month? Sounds easy
enough, right?” Something dark flashed in his eyes before he
dropped them to our still-joined hands. “In the wake of my mounting
frustration, I almost hurt my mom.”

“Wh-what?”

“I don’t even know how it happened. I’d been
going out a lot at night—the need to be outside overpowering the
need to sleep.” Yet another thing I empathized with. “I came home
at dawn one day. Mom had been up, sick with worry. I couldn’t blame
her for being scared something happened, especially after Bobby,
but when she started in on me…” A visible shudder rocked through
Nick, and he seemed hesitant to continue. “I recognized what was
happening before anything bad could transpire. But the things I
imagined doing… I was so unbelievably angry—not necessarily at her,
but at everything that had happened—and I just snapped. I got
outside and away from the house before I shifted.”

“During the day?”

Nick nodded. “It can happen if your emotions
get too intense. Fear, confusion, stress, anger. They can all
escalate and trigger the change.

“Marcus found me hiding in a shrub three
blocks from home. He coaxed me out and led me here.” He looked
around the living room, indicating the house. “He owns houses in
several towns and cities since the Pack tends to travel around
quite a bit. After I was calm enough to change back, he gave me
clothes and something to eat and then explained everything to me.
Again, it took a bit for the memory of such a violent shift to come
back to me, but it did, and it was then that I decided to go with
him.”

“Where?”

“To his main residence. He owns a large plot
of land near the mountains in Canada where he built an above
average house that we all stay in. He likes to keep the Pack close
together. A unified front.”

Canada. Nick’s been in Canada this whole
time.

“So, Marcus taught you to control it,” I
said, trying to steer the conversation toward something that I
hoped would be a little less stressful on Nick. It was clear that,
even seven years later, this still bothered him.

“He did.” Nick paused, smiling. “It wasn’t
easy, and as you know, I’m easily frustrated if I don’t catch onto
something right away.” I laughed, because he was absolutely right.
He’d always been a pain in the ass in that regard.

“But two years later, you had it figured
out.” While I knew this was going to be a process, I had hoped for
it to take less time. Especially based on what he told me earlier
this morning. “I thought you said that once you accepted it, it was
easier.”

“And it is, but you’re never really out of
the woods until you’ve got absolute control.”

“Meaning?”

Nick grinned, his smile reaching the outer
corners of his eyes and brightening them. He pulled his hand from
mine, and I looked down in shock; I’d been so completely content
that I’d forgotten all about the connection. And now I missed it.
It was confusing, so I tamped it down with every other unsettling
thought I’d had regarding Nick and tried to ignore it.

The key word being
tried
.

“When you have absolute control, it’s
possible to focus the change on one particular part of your body.”
I eyed him, at a complete loss for words. Nick still seemed pretty
amped about it though, turning to face me and pulling his right leg
up onto the couch between us. “You want to see?”

I
sat for a moment,
looking at Nick like he’d lost his ever-loving mind—something I
realized I’d been doing a lot of the last couple days.

Did he just ask if I wanted to watch him
transform part of his body? Was this some kind of perverted
euphemism? Nick always had a strange sense of humor, so I honestly
wouldn’t doubt it.

But, no. Something in Nick’s eyes told me he
wasn’t kidding around. He seemed excited about sharing this strange
ability. I know I said I believed all of this—because I was pretty
sure I did—but now that I was being offered the opportunity to
witness an actual transformation firsthand, I wasn’t sure I was
ready to fully let go of that last thread of denial.

Naturally, that curious—and fast-becoming
dominant—part of me that I kept trying to repress answered for me,
forcing my head to move up and down. I don’t know what exactly I
expected, but I watched with complete awe and shock as Nick held
his right arm out and stared at it.

Nothing happened at first, and I started to
doubt everything he’d told me. A strange combination of relief and
disappointment filled me. Relief because I started to believe I
could go back to my normal life, and disappointment
because…actually, I didn’t quite know why. I think it was that part
of me that I’d been repressing that was disappointed.

Yup. That was exactly where the
disappointment originated, but at the same time, it seemed to be
cheering Nick on. It was bizarre and very disorienting to have my
brain so split on what to believe.