Blood Moon (41 page)

“Did you find her? Gianna?”

“No. The trail came up dry.” He sighed.
“Listen, Brooke, there’s still so much you need to learn about our
world.”

I nodded. “Then teach me. I can’t be in the
dark any longer. You said I would be safe—that my loved ones would
be safe—but you were wrong. I’m not safe, and I won’t be safe until
I know what I’m up against and how I can stop it.” My hands shook
as the fires of rage flared inside me. “I want to find this bitch
and tear her apart for what she’s done.”

It didn’t take him longer than a few seconds
to concur, looking down at me with nothing but understanding.
“You’re absolutely right. It’s time you knew the truth.”

With that, I agreed to let Nick lead me
through the cemetery and off into the night. My need to right this
terrible injustice was stronger than it had ever been.

Denial.

Anger.

Bargaining.

Depression.

Acceptance.

These are the five stages of grief. Everyone
experiences them in their own time and at their own pace, and I
believed this to be true, based on personal experience. David had
been dead almost a week now, and I was slowly coming to terms with
it. But as I stood and watched fresh dirt cover his grave that
afternoon, I realized that the people who classified these five
emotions left off one more. One that I welcomed with everything I
had. One that would bring me closure.

Revenge.

S
leep wasn’t easy.
Every time I closed my eyes, my nightmares alternated between
David’s death and watching his coffin being lowered into the
ground. Both of these were memories that would likely haunt me for
the rest of my life. Exhaustion eventually overpowered me, and I
slept in short bursts every couple hours.

When I finally woke in the morning, my
throat was sore, and I felt the warmth of the sunlight as it
streamed in from the window. I rolled over onto my right side,
hoping that all of this was just a nightmare and that David was
fine and lying next to me. Deep down, I knew this to be wishful
thinking, but my brain was still muddled with sleep, and I held
onto the possibility for a little longer.

When I found the bed empty, the extreme
sadness returned, my chest aching as I fought another sob. I also
remembered I wasn’t in my own room…or my own house, for that
matter.

After Nick found me at the cemetery, I asked
him to take me back to his place. It wasn’t because I wanted to
lose myself in him; that would be an insult to David’s memory.
While I admitted to still having feelings for Nick, I wasn’t about
to act on those feelings. Not even for a moment of solace.

Because I didn’t want to worry my parents, I
called them and let them know that I didn’t think I was in any
shape to join them at the celebration of life. I wasn’t trying to
be rude or disrespectful to David’s memory, I just didn’t think I
was mentally stable enough to attend. Besides my undeniable grief,
I was feeling an insurmountable level of rage and vengeance. It
actually eclipsed my grief more and more as time passed, shielding
me from everything else until it was all I focused on. Even now, as
I slowly pushed myself up to sit on the edge of Nick’s bed.

My back and shoulders ached from all the
crying over the last few days, and I inhaled a shuddering breath,
holding it until my lungs burned. When I released it, I looked over
my shoulder at the unoccupied side of the bed, my heart straining
as I willed David to appear.

But it was Nick’s head that appeared as he
sat up from his makeshift bed on the floor, startling me.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, slapping my hand
over my chest, my heart hammering and my adrenaline pumping. It
shouldn’t have caught me off guard the way it did; it wasn’t like I
didn’t remember where I was.

“Sorry,” he apologized softly, standing up.
He wore a pair of flannel sleep pants and nothing more, so I turned
away. “How was your sleep?”

“Restless.” I fixed the blankets on the bed
while Nick folded his up and placed them in the red armchair in the
corner of his room. “You don’t have to pretend like you hadn’t
noticed.”

Nick shrugged, grabbing a black T-shirt from
his dresser and pulling it on. “I was trying to be polite. Are
you…?” He hesitated briefly. “Are you all right?”

Why was it when people asked you that
question, you felt like falling apart? It was like a chink in my
armor, causing my need for vengeance to ebb. I hated it. I felt
what little strength I had found begin to waver, and I tried to
hold onto it as best I could. “I’m about as well as can be
expected.”

“Of course,” Nick said. “It was stupid of me
to even ask.”

“No,” I tried to assure him. “It was sweet
to ask… It’s just hard for me to talk about right now.”

Nick looked at me and smiled. “You
hungry?”

My stomach growled at the prospect of a
meal, but it still felt like a roiling sea of nerves and nausea. I
couldn’t remember the last time I had a decent meal, though, so I
figured I should at least try. “Sure,” I replied before looking
down at my rumpled dress.

“We can stop by your place afterward if you
want to change.”

I tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles
that formed while I slept. “Yeah. That might be a good idea,” I
agreed, following him out to the hall where I was suddenly very
aware of the movements and voices of Nick’s Packmates in the
kitchen. I froze, and Nick noticed, sensing what my problem
was.

“It’s fine,” he whispered, taking my hand in
his, and I clung to him like he was my lifeline. “They know enough
to be respectful.”

We entered the kitchen and all talking
ceased as they turned to look at me. The only face I recognized was
Jackson’s, who looked surprisingly empathetic while eating his eggs
and coffee. While I didn’t know the other three, I recognized their
scents from the few times I’d been here.

“Brooke,” Nick started, placing his hand on
the small of my back, “These are a few of the guys from my Pack.
Zack…” He gestured toward the guy to Jackson’s right with the dark
skin, almost-black hair, and expressive brown eyes. He was just
lifting the spoon out of his cereal bowl and nodded his greeting
since his mouth was full. “Vincent…” To Jackson’s left sat a
slightly smaller, yet no less intimidating man with bright blond
hair and sea-green eyes. “Corbin… And you already know Jackson.”
Corbin looked to be about the same size as Vincent, but his frame
was a bit more slender. He regarded me with dark blue eyes as he
pushed his fingers through his light brown hair, while Jackson
continued to stare.

“Hi,” I returned quietly. “It’s…uh…nice to
meet you all.”

Zack smiled warmly, excitement flashing in
his dark eyes. “We’ve heard a lot about you,” he said.

“Zack…” Nick warned, his voice low and
threatening as he walked to the fridge and perused its
contents.

It was hard not to smile as Zack playfully
challenged Nick, his youth more obvious as he ignored his superior.
“All good things,” he assured me with a wink. “It’s nice to finally
put a face to the s—”

The fridge door slammed, and Nick whipped
around, chucking a loaf of bread at Zack’s head. “If you want her
to like you, I suggest you
don’t
finish that sentence.”

Confused, I looked toward Nick. He rolled
his eyes and brushed his finger across his nose as if to itch
it…and that’s when I realized what it was Zach had meant, and my
face heated up with embarrassment.

“Stories,” Zach tacked on, throwing the
bread back at Nick, who caught it in his huge hand, crushing it in
the process. “How crass do you think I am?”

Nick shot a pointed glare at him. “Do you
really want me to answer that?”

Smirking, Zack leaned back in his chair.
“Yeah, maybe not.”

Listening to them react to one another,
playing off what the other one said, reminded me of the kind of
relationship Bobby and I used to have. How he and Nick used to do
the same thing. It brought a smile to my face, even in the midst of
all this sorrow and anger that flowed through me. It was nice to
feel something other than grief.

The scrape of chair legs across the tile
pulled my attention to Corbin, who pushed out one of the two
available chairs around the table. “Why don’t you join us, Brooke?
Nick’ll bring you a coffee, won’t you, big guy?”

Nick nodded, his hand moving from the small
of my back and over my hair as though smoothing it a little. “Yeah.
Have a seat. They don’t bite.”

My eyes snapped to Jackson, who conveniently
looked away from me and took a sip of his own coffee. My resentment
toward him flared again as it occurred to me this might not have
happened had he not bit me that night in the park. But I didn’t say
anything, because my time just wasn’t worth the strife it might
cause. I needed Nick right now, and I was sure at some point I’d
need his Pack, too. Especially if I was going to get justice for
David.

Nick handed me a cup of coffee, and I added
cream and sugar from the containers on the table. Zack, Corbin, and
Vincent all watched as I put teaspoon after teaspoon of sugar into
it before stirring and taking my first sip. It wasn’t the first
time people had stared at me like I was crazy when making my
coffee, and it likely wouldn’t be the last.

I wasn’t really in the mood for making
conversation—which was only natural, given it was the day after my
boyfriend and partner’s funeral. None of the guys pressured me for
any details on my life, and I appreciated it. Instead, they
continued to carry on their conversation about their mission for
the day, and how they were looking forward to getting the job done
so they could head back home. Behind me, Nick cooked bacon and
eggs, and when it was ready, he put a heaping plate down in front
of me.

“Thanks,” I whispered, placing a napkin in
my lap before picking up my fork.

Nodding, he took the empty seat next to me,
the outside of his leg brushing mine, and was about to dig in when
Corbin spoke up. “How come you never cook like that for us?” he
asked with a teasing lilt to his voice.

Smirking, Nick met his stare. “Because you
don’t appreciate me,” he fired back.

My stomach was still in knots, but I knew I
had to eat something. It had been far too long, and I was weak.
Weaker than I had been in a long time. Thankfully my appetite
flourished after my first bite instead of dwindling further, and I
ate in silence while the guys talked about where they planned to
patrol later.

I didn’t understand most of what they were
talking about, but one look at Nick told me he’d fill me in later.
It was why I was here, after all: to learn about this way of
life.

Well, that and to avenge David’s death.

Out of nowhere, Jackson pushed his chair
back loudly and stood up. “I’m heading out,” he announced curtly.
“I’ll let you know what I find.” With that, Jackson took his cup
and plate to the sink and then left the kitchen, the front door
slamming a minute later.

“He’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he?” I
quipped.

Zack laughed loudly. “I like her!” he
declared. “She’s way more fun than any of the other strays you’ve
brought home.”

Shocked, I inhaled sharply, dropping my fork
onto my plate with a loud
clank
. “I’m sorry, what?
Strays?”

Nick shook his head and wiped his mouth with
his napkin. “Ignore him. He’s young…a
pup
. He doesn’t know
when to keep his mouth shut.” He stood up and grabbed his plate.
“You done?”

Shoveling one more forkful of food into my
mouth, I nodded once, and Nick took our dishes to the sink and
quickly washed them while I finished my coffee. “You guys planning
on heading out today? Marcus wants an update this afternoon. He’s
getting antsy and threatening to come out here himself. You know
he’s got enough shit to deal with back home, he doesn’t need to
think he can’t trust us to get this done.”

Zack, Corbin, and Vincent stood up, taking
their dishes to the sink. Nick grumbled, but agreed to do them, and
after they left, I grabbed a dishtowel, offering to pitch in.

“You really don’t have to help,” Nick said
as I grabbed the first dish. “You should be relaxing. We’ve got a
lot of work to do today.”

“It’s fine. You’ve done so much for me by
letting me stay here. It’s the least I can do.”

Once the dishes were done and put away, Nick
and I headed to my place. He offered to drive us on his motorcycle,
but I refused, saying I’d prefer to walk. Within the better part of
an hour, we were walking up my front steps, and I grabbed my
hide-a-key from a fake rock in my garden.

There was still a police notice on the door
that they posted when this was deemed an active crime scene. The
house still hadn’t been released, and wouldn’t be until the case
was solved, but I needed a few more things and Nick said he needed
one more look around. I shouldn’t have even been here, but if it
was going to help us find Gianna, then I didn’t give a shit what
the rules were anymore. Everything worthwhile had already been
filed, taken into account, and photographed, but they needed to
keep everything “as-is” in case they had to come back and
reevaluate something. Knowing this, I wouldn’t disturb the crime
scene. It’d be like I wasn’t even here. No one would even have to
know.

Carefully, we stepped inside the house, and
I purposely avoided the living room, heading straight for my
bedroom, while Nick lingered in the entryway, sniffing around for
anything useful. Everything was still in shambles, so I carefully
sidestepped any debris from the fight, telling Nick to do the same.
He assured me he wouldn’t touch a thing, so I headed to my room to
grab a few more things and change out of my dress.

I paused at the end of my bed, staring down
at the perfectly smooth blanket. My heart seized at the thought
that I’d never share this bed with David again, and I walked over
to his side of the bed, picking up his pillow. His scent still
lingered on it, so I drew it to my face and inhaled deeply,
committing his scent to my memory in hopes I’d never forget it.
This awakened the memory of his fear that night when he came in to
find me under attack, and the confusion he probably felt as he
died…alone.