Shadow's Moon

by Jami Gray

  Ryuu held up his hands in a placating gesture, retreating a step. “We were only reestablishing our communication techniques.”

  “And?”

  “Our lines are all clear.”

  “She kicked your ass, didn’t she?” A warm glow of pride unwound a few knots in his stomach.

  Ryuu’s lips twisted in a wry grin. “Yeah, but I let her.” Then he laughed and dodged the punch Xander threw. “Look, I need to head out. I’ve got some urgent emails awaiting my attention. You two play nice.”

  Ryuu bumped shoulders with Xander as he left, the small, affectionate movement reassuring Warrick the two truly were okay.

  When they were the last two in the conference room, the tension drained from his body. His wolf still rode under his skin, wanting to run, but the need wasn’t as suffocating.

  “Warrick?”

  Hearing the hesitancy in Xander’s voice softened the ice-cold barrier he locked his emotions behind. His voice was gruff when he answered, “Yeah, pixie girl.”

  “If you give me a few minutes, we can duck out and go for a run at your place.” She made the offer as if expecting him to reject it, or her. “I just need to call Zeke and push our appointment out a little later.”

  Her unusual show of insecurity made him frown. Was it his fault she felt this way? Stupid question. Of course it was. Initially, he shut down their connection to give her time to come to terms with the changes his decision had created. Instead, she’d taken it as a personal rejection. The truth was, part of him needed her to want to be with him, so much so he’d been worried he’d pressure her into accepting their bond. Unfortunately, he found keeping their connection open now was proving more difficult than he had expected.

  He reached out and cupped her face, his fingers finding and tracing the delicate lines of her tattoo. The familiar texture of the hidden scar tissue under his fingertips reminded him how much he wanted to know the story behind the artwork. But not now. Later, when things weren’t quite so…hectic.

  “I’d like that,” he answered.

  Her smile lit up her face and there, where she would be horrified to realize he could see it, was a wealth of emotion. Just for him.

  He kissed her, stepping close, bringing his body in so he could feel every inch of her. The heat of her seeped through his clothes, his skin, and slowly began making its way through that layer of emotional ice. Need, want, and softer emotions he refused to name rose, drowning all his good intentions. He took her over, and she let him. Would she understand how much that meant to him? That she, a dominant wolf, would submit to him? Not because he was her alpha but because, at some level, she felt safe enough with him to trust him? It humbled him even as it raised his passion higher.

  As much as he wanted to strip her bare and make use of the conference table behind them, he pulled back. It took an ungodly amount of discipline to gentle their kiss until he could raise his head. Her face was flushed, her breathing ragged, and her nails sharp little bites against his shoulders. He smiled, both wolf and man happy with their accomplishment.

  “Okay then,” Xander managed to choke out. “I’ll—um—meet you in about five.”

  He let her go. A sense of anticipation simmered in his bones, holding back the myriad of problems surrounding him. This run meant more than just a chance to let his wolf out, it was a gift. Her gift to him, a chance to step outside his position as alpha and take a moment for just the two of them.

  Hours later, rain and shadows obscured the moon as Xander pulled into a parking lot. The run with Warrick had done her and her wolf a world of good. She felt calmer, more centered. And Warrick? Well…She grinned as she recalled how he had chased her through the forest this afternoon. They had indulged in a wolf version of tag, slipping in and out of the heavy foliage to nip and pounce on the unsuspecting it. For a few blissful hours, they simply played. It was so rare for Warrick to do that, and it had been fun.

  Now, it was time to dive back into the waiting problems. First up, meeting with Zeke.

  She parked her bike under the Morrison Bridge. The small parking lot was half full. Tucked in an industrial area most would probably avoid, if given the choice, sat Montage. The squat, red brick building didn’t look like much, but the quirky pub served spectacular dishes, if you didn’t mind a little spice. Personally, she preferred the alligator gumbo.

  The street lamps stood watch outside, valiantly attempting to illuminate the darkness and drive back the night. Like a pied piper, the sounds of music and laughter seeped around the iron-barred door, beckoning visitors to take a chance despite the worn exterior.

  She pulled open the door and stepped inside, letting the warmth and smells wash over her. Looking around, she took in the crowd. Burly bikers, white-haired grannies and gramps, too-cool college students, casual professionals—Montage welcome them all. No judgment, just good food and great beer. It was one of her preferred meeting places.

  She caught the attention of one of the waitresses. Mitzi smiled as she finished setting a bowl of gourmet mac and cheese in front of an elderly couple. It took her a few moments to work her way around the tables, but once within earshot, she told Xander, “There’s a spot in the back. Will that work?”

  Xander nodded and followed her back. “Thanks, Mitzi.” Xander scooted into the booth.

  “You want your usual?” the Rubensesque brunette asked.

  Xander shook her head. “Not tonight. I’ll just stick with the gator bites and a coffee. I’m meeting someone.” She gave Mitzi Zeke’s name and a brief description, then sat back to wait.

  She wasn’t too early, maybe ten minutes. Normally, Zeke was fairly punctual. She passed the time people watching. It was always fun here. She spotted an intriguing couple.

  The man looked like he’d gotten dressed in the dark. Skin tight pants, done in vertical stripes of green and blue, clashed horribly with the paisley-patterned shirt resembling a refugee from a seventies sitcom. His companion was bit more together. Her batik skirt at least matched the shirt. Xander would bet good money that her shirt was made from organic cotton, just based on the Birkenstocks and mass of dull-brown dreadlocks. If those weren’t a clue, the distinct musk of body odor would have been. Sometimes having a sensitive nose just sucked.

  She amused herself by creating their background story. She left off once Mitzi brought her coffee and Cajun-seared gator tails with black bread. She closed her eyes, inhaling the stomach-awakening aromas. Her stomach grumbled—loudly.

  She caught Mitzi’s chuckle. Opening her eyes, she gave her favorite waitress a wry grin. “I’ve been stuck in meetings all day.”

  “Hungry work, meetings,” Mitzi agreed. “You need anything else, sugar?”

  “Nope, I’m good. Thanks.”

  Another quick grin then Mitzi was off, buzzing around the other tables.

  Xander picked up her coffee and took a sip. The subtle blends of cinnamon and spice hit her tongue. Lovely. She dug into her food. About twenty minutes after the gator tails had made their last descent, her good mood started to sour. Zeke was late. Her fingers drummed an impatient beat against the table and her gaze kept straying to the door, as if that would encourage him to walk in.

  On the table in front of her, her cell phone began doing its Mexican jumping bean impression. She snatched it up. Ryuu, not Zeke.

  “Hey,” she answered.

  “Hey back,” he answered, sounding distracted. “Let me talk to Zeke.”

  “Would love to, but he’s not here.”

  “What?” Ryuu shot the word out.

  Uneasiness stretched awake inside her, causing her stomach to protest the pile of food she had just dumped on it. “He’s not here,” she repeated.

  “He left over forty minutes ago.” There was nothing distracted about Ryuu now. “Where the hell is he?”

  “Did he mention stopping somewhere else first?”

  Don’t panic. Not yet. There could be a reasonable explanation. Just because everything seemed to go to shit in a hand
basket lately, didn’t mean Zeke was in trouble. Too bad her roiling stomach wasn’t buying it.

  “No,” Ryuu answered. “Did he tell you why he wanted to meet?”

  “He said he had found a connection between our three—” She stopped. There was no way a human could eavesdrop on her conversation, but still, it never hurt to be safe. “—chew toys,” she finished.

  Ryuu’s growl registered loud and clear in her ear. “And you didn’t think to let me know that one of my employees was going to pull some Sherlock Holmes stunt?”

  “First off, he wasn’t planning on leaving the office,” she shot back, knowing it was worry making Ryuu an ass, but still. “Second, when I spoke to him after the meeting, he was still working on it. At. His. Desk.”

  “Okay, okay,” he muttered. “I’m going to see if I can get into his computer and find out what he was working on.”

  “What’s he driving?” she asked then tucked her phone between her shoulder and ear as she began digging money out of her pocket. She threw it on the table, grabbed her jacket, and left Montage. As she hit the door, she was almost running.

  “An old green pickup truck,” he answered. “You won’t be able to miss it. He’s been putting it together piece by piece, so it’s a patchwork of primer and olive green. I think he’s got a headlight out as well.” He blew out an audible breath. “At least it wasn’t working this morning when we were at Warrick’s.”

  “So GPS is out then,” she said, getting on her bike. “I’m going to backtrack his possible routes and see what I can find. See if you can track his cell.” She didn’t wait for his response, but hung up and shoved the phone in her jacket pocket. Tugging on the helmet, she started the powerful bike and roared out of the parking lot, her heart in her throat.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Xander followed the most direct route from Montage to Taliesin, scanning the steep drop offs and surrounding traffic. Oregon’s Department of Transportation obviously had something against streetlights because they were few and far between. It never bothered her, until now, when she could have used the extra light. Since the shadows created their own black holes along the roadsides, she concentrated on any signs of a vehicle going off the road.

  Her frustration mounted and the uneasy feeling from earlier had morphed into a full-on ball of dread. It wasn’t until she hit the road tucked in the forested area just past the Terwilliger Curves that she struck pay dirt.

  She carefully pulled in behind the parked pickup sitting on the side of the road. Her headlight illuminated the obviously newly dented bumper and the partially open driver’s door. She sat there, studying the truck, her bike’s quiet rumbles magnified under the heavy foliage. Someone had hit the vehicle, hard enough to leave one taillight hanging by a wire like a dangling, bloody eyeball.

  Tension crawled down her spine. She turned off her bike’s engine, but left the headlight on so she could study the damage. As the engine’s echoes faded, an oppressive silence snuck in and the feeling of being watched crawled over her.

  Making her way to the truck, she tried to scan her surroundings without being obvious about it. Between the wind blown clouds cutting in front of the moon and the swaying trees, the shadows took on ominous over-tones.

  Up close, she could see the flecks of darker paint etched into the scraped metal of the bumper and, through the windshield, confirmed the cab was empty. Crouching down, she ran her finger over the marks. She studied the paint chips on her finger under the light of her bike’s headlamp. Blue or black, maybe. She couldn’t be sure unless she got some better light. Even with her exceptional eyesight, it was a muted shade of dark. She brushed her finger off on her pants, rose to her feet, then did a slow perusal of her surroundings.

  If someone was out there, they were holding prenaturally still. Walking around to the passenger side of Zeke’s abandoned truck, she sucked in a deep breath, hoping to catch a scent. Wood, winter, wet dirt, the sharp bite of gasoline, and something that stung her nose. It got stronger as she moved toward the front of the truck. She sneezed. Antifreeze.

  Frickin’ fantastic. Zeke’s radiator must have blown. Unfortunately, the astringent smell just rendered her nose temporarily useless. It would take a few minutes to clear it out.

  She placed a hand against the hood, the metal cold under her touch, increasing her worry. She crouched down and sure enough, there was a pool of antifreeze painting the dirt with a light luminance. Half-hidden behind the front wheel well, she was able to see under the truck and to the other side. The faint snap of a branch had her breath stilling and her muscles coiling. She watched the bare ground on the truck’s far side. Leaves blew gently across the earth, but nothing else moved.

  She couldn’t stay in this position long or whoever was out there would know they had her attention. She pasted a worried frown on her face and stood up. “Hey, Zeke? You out there?” She kept her voice quiet. Let her watcher think they had her fooled. She made her way around the front of the truck until she stood next to the partially open driver’s door, presenting a tempting target.

  There was no way she was giving that forest her back. Right now, she was scent blind and although the night was a spectrum of grays, the shadows were thick.

  A soft moan drifted through the night, raising the hair on the back of her neck. Was it Zeke? Had he been disoriented from the hit and stumbled off in the wrong direction? Or was it a lure? She stared into the heavy foliage. Only one way to find out.

  She picked her way down the slight slope and into the trees, letting her wolf slide under her skin, taking comfort in her reassuring presence. Her steps quieted and her muscles flowed as she made her way deeper in. Again, that soft moan echoed through the night. She tilted her head, swiveling around to pinpoint the direction. Definitely sounded male. She altered her path until she was downwind.

  There, through the patchwork of branches and ivy-covered tree trunks, she finally found her prey. Hunched over, a hand on a thick pine, she still couldn’t tell if it was Zeke. Whoever it was, was facing away from her and seemed to be completely unaware of her presence.

  She held still, watching, waiting.

  The figure gasped then stumbled forward.

  She rolled to the balls of her feet, poised to jump closer, except the capricious wind changed its direction.

  The figure straightened with alarming speed, one arm coming up then down.

  Pure instinct had Xander jerking her body to the side and spinning behind the nearest tree. The blade swept by so close she could taste the bite of silver in the air. She rounded the trunk, lethal nails ripping through her fingers, the bright pain lost under the rush of adrenaline. She managed a couple of steps before he was on her, cutting off her route.

  Muscled arms wrapped around her waist as a shoulder plowed into her stomach. He managed to lift her off her feet but she twisted enough to keep her arms free. Still, not a good position to be in. He used his weight against her, slamming her against the tree.

  Pain exploded across her back and ran down her spine. Unable to brace for the impact, her vision became dotted with white stars as her head snapped back with a solid thunk. The shock of the hit may have stolen her air but it flipped her internal switch.

  Time seemed to slow and the night erupted into crystal clarity. Her pain faded under the melding of her intellect and her wolf’s instinct.

  She cupped her hands and slammed them over his ears, shooting an explosion of air down his eardrums. To make her point, she dug the sharp tips of her nails into his scalp and skull and dragged them down. The arms around her waist loosened and her feet hit the ground. A painful yowl ripped through the night as he stumbled back. Not hesitating, she kicked out with her leg, nailing her attacker in the ribs.

  He stumbled back, shaking his head and flinging his blood like sweat. The furrows from her nails left strips of flesh hanging around his head like strands of gory hair. His yowl morphed to a furious growl. “Stupid bitch, I’m gonna make you pay.”

  “You�
��re welcome to try,” she snarled.

  He was a big guy. Thick arms, even thicker chest, no neck, and huge hands. If she was lucky he’d be slow and awkward. He stepped closer, his arms up in classic boxing stance, and snapped out a left jab.

  She barely had time to twist to take the hit on her shoulder. So much for that theory. She was facing an experienced fighter.

  Using her twist, she continued her spin and snuck in a strike on his unprotected ribs as she came back around. She ducked his right hook and went in low, raking her nails across his stomach. The scent of fresh blood marked her hit and her nose coming back online.

  The bright burst of scent was quickly followed by another. Her attacker’s. A now familiar smell of Feral wrongness washed over her. Whoever this was, he was tied to Neil and the two other Bitten wolves. The unexpectedness of her discovery left her open and she took a solid hit to her stomach. Doubled over his arm, she clamped her shifted hands on his flesh and sank her claws in deep, fighting for air.

  He roared, trying to yank his arm back.

  Her nails tore through his skin and muscles, shredding his arm to the bone as he tried to pull it back. She dodged to the side, letting him go to avoid his hastily thrown right hook aimed at the back of her head.

  He stumbled, off balance, and hunched over, his mutilated arm cradled against his stomach.

  It was an opening and she took it. Sucking in short, shallow breaths, she moved in, counting on her small size and speed. Before he could avoid her, she hammered her fist against the base of his skull then darted out of reach. The shock of her hit sent him to his knees.

  She lashed out with a kick to his jaw. Dazed or not, he still got his hands up to block the kick and slapped her leg away. But it wasn’t enough. She used the movement of her right leg to mask the actual strike from her left. Her foot snapped just under his ear, hitting hard against his carotid artery. The shock of her strike ran up her leg, but she didn’t have time to gloat. Her right leg crumpled under her as she completed the kick, giving her an up close and personal view of the ground.