Blood Moons (3 page)

The jury was stone-faced. They never acknowledged that they heard her. They just stared at her as she shouted and cried and begged, then they turned their backs on her and refused to listen anymore.

And then he was there. The killer.

She felt his presence like a cold chill running up her spine and she turned around just as he reached out and snatched her around the neck. His eyes were feverish and he had the look of a maniac. This was more than a kill for him. It was an obsession he was helpless to stop. He
needed
to kill.

Just as his cold fingers closed around her throat, Dara woke up gasping so loud it was almost a scream. She instantly remembered where she was and scrambled deeper into the shadows in case Hunt, or someone else, decided to take exception to the noise.

She shivered so much she was afraid that the involuntary spasms would travel up the wall and wake Hunt, sleeping 22

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

above her. But he never even stirred. After a while, she was able to calm herself enough to lie back down.

The odd thing was that she couldn't "see" into Hunt's mind. She could see what those prisoners closest to her were dreaming, sorting through the information methodically, uninterestedly, so that she wouldn't be overwhelmed by the influx of information. But she didn't get anything from Hunt.

It was as if he wasn't really human. Everyone thought, and remembered, and dreamed. If not, at the very least they perceived and had opinions about what they saw and heard.

And they most definitely dreamed. But either Hunt was some kind of very convincing AI robot, or he'd conditioned himself not to, because Dara wasn't getting a thing. He was still there, but his brain wasn't broadcasting.

Dara even tried to reach out to him, for the first time in her life taking a chance and making use of this stupid, useless ability. But when she couldn't access his thoughts, she lost interest and gave up.

It was a double-edged sword. At least if she knew what he was thinking, she could prepare herself for what was coming, instead of always dreading the unknown. On the other hand, not knowing had its advantages, in theory. Dara had read somewhere a while ago that a person's life ended on the day they found out when they were going to die. Knowledge of a possible future didn't make the wait any easier. In theory.

But in practice, here, it might be nice to know where the biggest threats were housed. One of them might be sleeping on the bunk above hers. Without being able to read him, she was as vulnerable to an attack from him as anyone else might 23

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

be. With nothing else to go on, Dara was reduced to examining his actions.

He had ignored her last evening completely and he hadn't done anything to her yet, she tried to reassure herself. But that
yet
was frightening to contemplate.

It doesn't mean he'll be as uninterested today.

A loud siren made her jump and scramble to get out of bed and she managed to hit her head on the top bunk in the process. She hissed and rubbed the spot.

Hunt slid off his bed and landed softly, stretching his half-naked body.

Dara stared. In his shirt yesterday he'd been impressive.

Without it today ...
Holy crap!
For just a second, watching those beautiful muscles stretch and bulge, she forgot where she was and who he was. The walls faded away, the other voices muted, and she was just a woman, staring at a man who just rolled out of bed, his pants riding low on his hips.

And Dara was curious about what it would feel like to be gathered up in arms that powerful. Would he crush her without a thought? Her gut said he wasn't that kind of guy.

Right now, without that tough, menacing face he'd put on yesterday, he looked completely devastating. The type of guy for whom women fell all over themselves; and who touched his women with just enough strength to make them feel overpowered, but not threatened. Well, not
much
, anyway. A guy like that never let a woman forget she was toying with danger.

The fantasy made the region around her heart ache. Why couldn't she have met a guy like this before? Maybe if she 24

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

had, her life would have turned out differently. Maybe he could have kept her thoughts and dreams occupied with more pleasant things than what those around her were thinking.

Maybe she could have woken up with him, and spent her days smiling about how lucky she was, and come back home to sleep in his arms at night.

Maybe he would have kept her so busy in his bed that she wouldn't have had time to think about anything else.
Ah, sex
.

Dara remembered having had it. So very long ago.

Remembered not being impressed with it. She should have known better, though. Nothing was ever as good as the books made it seem. Dara had built her hopes up with a steady diet of romance novels in which the hero was ... well, like this guy, and everything turned out perfect when he found his heroine.

If she let herself, Dara could pretend that this was the beginning of some steamy romance novel. Wouldn't be difficult, really. The plot had already begun with a complicated situation, and now here she was, trapped with the hero of the tale, with nowhere to turn except into his arms.

His really big, strong-looking arms...

Then Hunt spoke and quickly dispelled her fantasy.

"Wake-up call," he said and grinned, as if he'd read her thoughts and they amused him. "Six thirty."

Dara blushed, feeling as if she'd just been caught in one of those naked-in-public dreams. When he turned away, she swallowed a wistful sigh and made herself look at something besides his tight backside.

There was nothing, except a wall.

25

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

Back to reality she plunged, and it wasn't a soft landing.

What was she thinking? Romance novel? Turning into his arms for help? Ha. All that strength had a completely different purpose here. Hunt probably
would
crush the life out of her, given half a chance. And he'd smile while doing it.

A spark in the doorway disabled the force field. Hunt left without a word, joining the others to go somewhere. Most likely to breakfast.

Dara felt a tingle of panic when she lost sight of him. The cell was open, and she was suddenly all alone in it.
Bad, bad.

Alone was very bad. Alone, she had no one to scream for if something happened. It was ridiculous, bordering on insane, to even think about Hunt as possibly a friend—and romance novel hero was completely out of the question. He'd have the most opportunities to hurt her in any number of ways. But she was getting a feeling—which felt a lot like the stupid useless instinct that had gotten her into this mess to begin with—that she should stick with Hunt and take her chances.

What else could she do? Dara hadn't been born yesterday.

Her experience in these situations was thankfully lacking, but her imagination wasn't. She knew she'd have to throw her lot in with someone at some point; she didn't stand a chance on her own. Plus, she would need to eat eventually, which meant exposing herself to the others in the ... cafeteria?

Stay or go? Stay or go?

Making a split-second decision, Dara ran out after Hunt.

She took up the rear and followed the others, down to the bottom level, then away from the main chamber to the cafeteria. Somehow she found herself with a mangled tray in 26

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

her hand, somewhere in line for food. Something was dropped onto the metal thing and she was shoved aside as the person behind her put his tray forward.

Dara looked around uneasily. Some tables were already filled while others only had a person or two; none were completely empty. And most faces she'd rather not come close to. She got a strange image in her head of playing Russian roulette, except the gun only had one chamber empty.

The cylinder spun and spun, then settled with a chamber aligned. The hammer pulled back slowly with a loud click. No one held the gun. No one was even in the picture. And still the trigger moved back farther and farther until...

Someone cursed low behind her and then her upper arm was gripped in the tight vise of Hunt's huge hand. How did he get behind her? He pulled her after him to the shadows under a broken lamp where a lone table stood unoccupied. She hadn't noticed it before.

Hunt pushed her down to sit in the corner. He dropped his tray across from her and sat, glowering again like he'd done yesterday.

Shaken, heart racing, Dara just stared.
What just
happened?
For a second there, she'd thought that would be the end of it.

"You don't have the sense of a sparrow, do you?" Hunt demanded. No more fantasy guy. Firmly back in the scare-you-to-death-with-a-look guy mode. Obviously he didn't expect an answer. He continued, "First day and you already stand out like a sore thumb.
Get some sense, lassie!
" He 27

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

hissed that last part and she frowned at the term. Didn't know anyone still used it outside of books. "If you want to survive the week, you keep the hell out of sight."

Dara ducked her head and looked around to see if anyone had noticed her. No one was even looking in her direction.

She was so relieved, she almost let herself relax. Shifting her chair farther into shadow, Dara turned her gaze to her unlikely rescuer. Hunt was angry, but her gut still said the same thing it did before. He just didn't look the type to hurt her. Not like the others did. Why else would he be hiding her now? He was right, of course. The moment those other men started to pay attention to her, she was dead.

Dara nodded once, since it seemed he was looking for some kind of response, and hunched down over her bowl.

Whatever was in that dish, it didn't smell like anything. It looked like runny oatmeal, with lumps, and she wrinkled her nose. Scooping up a small amount with her spoon, she sniffed it cautiously, and then squeezed her eyes shut and stuck the spoon into her mouth.

No taste, either. And the texture was nondescript as well.

Dara let out a tense breath and opened her eyes to find Hunt watching her with amusement. How quickly his mood changed. And damn him, he looked even better when he smiled. Looked like someone she'd want to put her trust in.

"Not used to our fine cuisine, are you? It gets better over time." He popped a spoonful into his mouth and swallowed without chewing. "We have the same in solid form for lunch and dinner. Don't ask why breakfast is different. You probably don't want to know."

28

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

The woman gave him a tentative smile, then ate some more, slowly and cautiously, as if she was afraid it was poison. He could have put her mind at ease. People didn't need poison to take someone out around here. Brute force usually worked just fine.

Tristan shook his head. What someone as timid as this creature was doing in here was beyond him. It hadn't escaped his notice when she woke with such a start close to morning.

He hadn't been sleeping, but seething that Herb had done this to him. And that he couldn't retaliate.

He'd heard her tossing and turning and had been about to snap at her to keep still so that he could sleep when she'd nearly screamed. He'd even heard her huddle in a ball. But she'd never said a word. A fucking miracle—a quiet woman.

Had she taken it to heart when he'd told her not to utter a peep?

Tristan looked her over again, taking advantage of her inattention while she was still eating and wouldn't notice his scrutiny. She was beautiful in a way that was rare these days.

Then again, after so many years with only men for company and those three that looked more like men, he supposed anyone would look beautiful to him.

She'd braided her raven hair for the night, but it was now mussed, giving her a look of a woman who'd just rolled out of someone's bed. She had pale skin, big honey-brown eyes, a thin nose, and full, naturally red lips he wanted to feel all over him.

She held her spoon like a lady of old, in delicate fingers that were clean of all dirt, with elegant fingernails that were 29

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

neat, not fancy. All woman, the way a woman should be; without artifice.

She had a figure that was just right. Not too ample, nor too flat. Breasts that would fit perfectly into his hands, a waist he could fit his arm around, hips that were shapely, and legs that would be just long enough to wrap around him.

He straightened. Where the hell had
that
come from? He shifted so that she was better concealed and concentrated on the act of eating so as not to draw attention. Christ! If anyone noticed her, she'd end up dead within a week, just as he'd said she would. There were no conjugal visits here. The men had to make do with what was available. A woman as delicate as this one was wouldn't survive a minute in the filthy games those men played.

"What the hell did you do to get in here?" he heard himself asking.

She shook her head awkwardly, but did not look up.

"Don't wanna talk about it?" He shrugged easily. "Fine by me. I like silence."

She ducked her head, but he caught the wry grin on her face.

He didn't know what she found so funny, but oddly, Tristan felt like smiling himself.

"
Move it, ladies! Two minutes!
" a guard bellowed and she jumped.

"He means all of us, not just the women," Tristan assured her. He leaned forward to impart the next piece of wisdom.

"If you value your life, you will stay out of sight. Stay in the cell as much as possible. Don't draw attention." Then he 30

Blood Moons

by Alianne Donnelly

scoffed at the absurdity of it. "Shit, it's like trying to hide a mouse in a nest of snakes."

"
All right! Single file. Pick a fight and you'll regret it!
"