Sara's Moon (Moons of Mystery Book 1)

by S Bolanos

  “Well, if you’ve noticed the body-temp thing, then you’ve probably noticed increased sensitivity, especially in your hands, and that you heal a bit faster."

  “Is that why you didn’t take me to the vet after you hit me?”

  He flinched. “I can’t believe I basically ran you over. I’m supposed to be helping you, not making things worse. But yeah, once I realized most of the injury was superficial, I wasn’t too worried.”

  I snorted and finished my glass, then placed it on the coffee table next to his. Superficial my ass, that hurt like hell.

  “Alright, Miss Skeptical. There’s also the tiny fact that you can’t exactly take a werewolf to a hospital—animal or otherwise—without raising a few eyebrows.” Michael’s sass was comedic until I remembered my own stay at the hospital.

  “About that. I’m not sure how relevant it is now, but I’m pretty sure I raised a few eyebrows during my recovery,” I said sheepishly.

  Michael groaned and tossed his head back on the couch. “This mutt is going to be the freaking end of me.”

  “I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know? This is all incredibly new, not to mention out in left field.”

  He lifted his head back up to meet my worried gaze. “No, it’s not your fault. Things are …complicated for me. I have to tread carefully with this or there could be serious consequences."

  “Like the doctors conducting an inquisition?” I hazarded.

  “That too. There’s so much you don’t know, things I take for granted.” He stared back at me as if debating how far back to pull the curtain. “I realize all of this is probably a little overwhelming, but I promise, it’s easier to adjust than you think. You’ll get through this."

  I tried to tell him that I really wasn't having that hard a time, but a huge yawn that cracked my jaw prevented me.

  "Damn, I didn't realize how late it is.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “You've had a long day. And here I am keeping you awake with my own problems..." He shifted to get up.

  "Michael, relax," I said, my hand on his arm.

  He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Clearly something in our conversation wasn’t sitting well with him. "Alright,” he said as he stood. “I'll get you set up." He grabbed my bag from the floor and headed down the hall, leaving me to catch up.

  When I didn’t find him in the first room, I moved down to the main bedroom.

  Not this again.

  "Michael, wait."

  "Oh, here," he said and shoved a bundle of clothes into my arms without meeting my eye. "You go ahead and change." Message delivered, he whirled back around to continue cleaning, pointedly avoiding any eye contact.

  Rather than stand there and argue, I gave him some space. In the bathroom, I realized what he’d given me—the shirt I'd taken.

  Crap. Now he knows that I took it and lied about it.

  I shook my head and pulled it on anyway. The soft cotton hung off my shoulders, no less comfy for being too big. Determined not to make things any more awkward than they already were, I returned to find the room miraculously transformed.

  "Michael, I'm not sleeping in your room," I said, doing my best to leave no room for argument.

  "Yes, you are," he said as he fluffed a pillow. “It’s the least I can do.”

  "I won't take your bed. It's yours, you sleep in it." Not to mention, I doubt I could survive another night wrapped in your scent and keep my wits.

  "But you're a guest," he protested, looking thoroughly put out.

  "So, I’ll sleep in the guest room, that is what it’s for. The bed just needs some sheets," I added.

  He stared at the ceiling and let out a heavy breath, then finally met my gaze. There seemed to be a battle playing inside of him, but without him saying anything, I was at a loss for what it could be.

  Is there some reason he doesn’t want me in there?

  “If you’ll tell me where to find the sheets, I can take care of it.”

  My words seemed to propel him into motion. "No, I’ve got it. I don’t know why I didn't think of that before. Suppose it has to do with the fact that I don’t really have anyone stay the night. Most of the time, I forget I have the room altogether.”

  My cheeks burned slightly as I put two and two together as to how a man like Michael Howell could forget he had a second bedroom. I ducked my head to hide my blush as he walked past me to obtain the requested linens.

  "Are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable in the other room?" he asked for probably the fifth time.

  “I'll be fine, this is great," I said, standing in the middle of the guest room. It was a decent space. Smaller than his, but that was to be expected, and the sheets were clean if a bit musty.

  "Okay, but if you need anything, I'll be down the hall." He hesitated in the doorway as if he wanted to say more.

  "I know, thank you. Goodnight, Michael," I said in an attempt to give him the out he so clearly needed.

  To my surprise, he didn’t immediately vanish. Instead, he stepped forward and moved a loose strand of hair out of my face, his hand lingering. My breath caught and I tried desperately to pretend my hormones weren’t freaking out.

  "Goodnight, Sara,” he whispered.

  I swallowed, unsure of how to respond or if I even could. “Goodnight,” I said again, substantially more breathless.

  His hand finally slipped away, trailing tingles in the wake of the intimate touch. I continued to stand there dazed well after he’d gone.

  “Sara…Sara…”

  I grumbled at the intrusion, not wanting to let go of my wonderfully fuzzy sleep. But it was too late, the damage was done. I cracked my eyelids. Deep brown eyes framed by long lashes stared back at me only inches away.

  I screamed and scrambled backwards nearly falling off the other side of the bed. Between the harsh sound and heart-stopping scare, I was officially awake, though my brain was still struggling to catch up.

  “Christ, Michael.” My hand fisted in the fabric above my pounding heart. “Personal space much?”

  Completely unphased, he sat on the bed. “You know you make noises in your sleep? It’s kind of adorable.”

  “How long have you been here?” I screeched in violated outrage.

  He shrugged casually in response and I smacked him as hard as I could in the arm, which I suspected was now actually quite hard. “Ow,” he laughed, rubbing the appendage. “I’m sure breakfast should help make up for any grievance I may have caused.”

  Despite being in a completely human body, I could swear my ears perked forward. He laughed again and led the way. I followed his example and stayed in pajamas as I trailed after him and the promise of food.

  “Where did you find grits?” I asked, sipping on my coffee and only a little disheartened that ham steak hadn’t made the menu.

  “I had a conference in Alabama a few years back and liked them so much that I brought some back. Now I keep ‘em in stock. Why do you ask?”

  “No reason, I just pegged you for an oatmeal kind of guy.” As he laughed, something occurred to me. “Hey! You never mentioned anything about having an obscene appetite.”

  “I figured that was pretty self-explanatory,” he said as he topped off his coffee.

  “Yeah, but now I look like a cow when I go out and order mountains of food,” I pouted. “Eventually, it’s going to draw attention, not to mention the drain on my wallet.”

  “You look great, Sara,” he said, leaning on the peninsula. “But if it really bothers you, most weres eat a full meal or snack before they go out so they can appear a little more normal.”

  “I suppose that could work,” I grumbled, though it didn’t solve the budget issue.

  Michael sighed and looked into his steaming mug before bringing his gaze back to mine. “I can’t even begin to imagine how much food it would take for a werewolf to put on weight.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, intrigued despite myself.

  “Our metabolism is incredibly high. It takes
a lot of fuel to keep us running,” he explained.

  “Call it another perk?” I proffered.

  He smiled. “Yeah, call it another perk.”

  “There seem to be a lot of those. I can’t tell if you’re just biased about being a werewolf or if you don’t want to talk about the downsides.”

  His grin slipped. “There are a few downsides, but I don’t expect them to be a problem for you.” He hid a dire expression behind taking another sip and glanced out the sliding doors. “Look, it’s a beautiful day. Why don’t we hit up the park?”

  I let the blatant shift stand unopposed. “You don’t really expect me to believe that you just now came up with that. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’d planned a whole weekend.”

  “I can guarantee you this is not the weekend I had planned. Now go get changed so that we can get out of here.” He followed his own advice by hastily rinsing his cup and walking around the peninsula dividing us.

  “But I didn’t even…”

  “I’m sure there’s something in there,” he said and shuffled me off.

  Sure enough, there were clothes for an outing to the park. I'd been joking earlier, but now I wasn’t so sure. He could have easily planned everything out—though biting someone seemed a bit extreme.

  I glanced towards the door and the living room beyond, where Michael was undoubtedly already waiting for me. Doubt and uncertainty warred in my mind. Whether he’d lied about biting me or not, he was definitely hiding something.

  “Are you coming?” he called as if sensing my reticence.

  I put the doubtful thoughts on the back burner with the full intent of exploring them later. Thus far, Michael hadn’t given me any real reason beyond also being a werewolf to doubt his sincerity. I hesitated in the doorway, foot poised to step into the hall at the sudden, alarming realization that I was literally trusting a man I barely knew with my life.

  My teeth sank into my bottom lip as I cast an anxious glance toward the living room. A second later, my foot came down. So far, Michael was the one with the answers and that meant I would have to keep trusting.

  The beauty of the park easily eclipsed my bleak thoughts and effortlessly pushed aside my persistent doubts. Winter was finally beginning to relinquish its hold on the landscape and fresh sprigs of green peeked out from barren branches. Even the breeze carried a tantalizing promise of change right around the corner.

  I sucked in a lung full of air and spun in a circle, arms out wide, while Michael’s laughter swirled around me. “What?”

  “It’s good to see you smiling,” he said with one of his own.

  “I smile.” I frowned.

  “It’s okay. Most of us find it difficult to be indoors for long stretches of time.” He gave his own exaggerated stretch. “It’s not easy being confined to the house. That’s one of the reasons I wanted us to get out today. Honestly, rain or shine, I’m not sure I could have endured another day.” As his arms fell back to his sides with a satisfied sigh, it occurred to me that while I felt like I was under house arrest, as my jailer, he was faced with the same restrictions. Guilt twisted in my stomach at my earlier suspicions.

  “Come on.” He waved his hand. “Let’s stretch our legs.”

  “I swear if you produce a stick, I’ll bite you,” I warned. He chuckled and led the way down a dirt path next to the tree line. I sprinted to catch up and fell in step beside him. “Truth be told, I expected you to do as much that first night.” The admission flew out of my mouth accompanied by an almost immediate burn on my cheeks.

  “You have absolutely no idea how tempting it was,” he chuckled. “But I figured I’d be in enough trouble once you learned the truth.” He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye.

  My face burned hotter as I recalled my behavior that night. I cleared my throat. “Do you come here often?”

  He shrugged. “Not really. I’d rather go over to Raven Rock.”

  “Why didn’t we do that today?”

  His grin was downright roguish. “Let’s just say I’m not typically presentable when I go. You haven’t lived until you spend a whole weekend out there.”

  I thought about how tan he was and the noticeable lack of tan lines. My exhale caught and I started to choke.

  “You alright?” He turned as if to start patting me on the back.

  Unable to bear the compounded humility, I waved him off and tried harder to school my thoughts from wandering to places they had no business being. Thankfully, he let it go.

  “You know what? I’m sure you’re probably tired of the exercise by now, but this is kind of a great place to really test your nose.”

  “You can’t be serious. Can’t I have one day off?” I bemoaned.

  “Nope, now focus. Tell me what you smell.”

  I gave him an exaggerated eye roll, which earned me a laugh and I couldn’t help but smile. Aside from the weirdness of it all, this was shaping up to be an almost normal day. Obviously, my definition of normal had changed.

  He was still waiting expectantly, so I rolled my shoulders and concentrated. I inhaled deeply, sampling the breeze curling around us. Right off, I smelled Michael, his scent deep and musky beside me, the woodsy undertones sparking memories of home and a forest that felt friendly rather than threatening. I pushed the dominating scent away and searched for something else.

  “I can’t believe I’m sniffing things like some dog,” I mumbled under my breath, not thinking about the fact that Michael would be able to hear it. Laughter instantly bubbled out of him, shattering the little focus I'd attained. “Shut up. Don’t make fun of me.”

  He only laughed harder, clutching his side as he gasped for breath. “I haven’t heard anything that funny in ages.”

  “It’s not funny! Stop laughing,” I griped, shoving him for good measure. “Besides, how am I supposed to smell anything with you standing right there?” I let out an aggrieved huff when his laughter refused to abate. “Fine, be that way,” I said and ran a few steps away.

  “Wait!” he called after me.

  I ignored him and closed my eyes to eliminate any other distractions.

  Within seconds, his scent was once again dancing at my periphery. “I’m sorry. I’m not making fun, I promise. It’s just…”

  “Shh.” I held up a hand. and he instantly went silent. He waited patiently as I struggled to pin down what had caught my attention. The eerily familiar scent taunted me like a word hovering on the tip of your tongue.

  I focused harder and an image of a medium-sized pond with gray-feathered occupants came to me.

  “Geese!” Without a second thought, I raced toward the source.

  “Where are you going?” Michael asked, hot on my heels as I dove into the trees.

  “I’ve been here before,” I said over my shoulder.

  A second later, I burst through the foliage and the oasis I'd stumbled upon weeks ago opened up before me. Sure enough, the geese were swimming lazily around the pond with a few waddling on the shore. It was almost exactly as I remembered it.

  “You’ve been here?” Michael asked as he emerged from the trees, not half a step behind.

  “Yeah,” I said, walking towards the water confidently. “This is where I ended up that second night.”

  “Good grief, no wonder I couldn’t find you.”

  I shrugged and kept walking.

  “Sara, wait,” Michael cautioned. “Geese aren’t exactly known to be friendly, especially to wolves.”

  I looked down at his hand on my wrist and smiled up at him. “We have an understanding,” I said and slipped his grip.

  He stayed where he was as I approached the pond and my feathered friends, admittedly a little slower than before. They eyed me skeptically, but didn’t panic as I walked right up to the water’s edge. I gave them a moment to accept my presence and then reached down to scoop up a handful of water. The cool water slid down my throat and I gave a contented sigh.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Michael said with a touc
h of awe from his safe distance. “One of these days, you’ll have to tell me how you earned the trust of a gaggle of geese.”

  “Sure thing.” I stood and wiped my hand on my pants.

  A peek over my shoulder showed him eyeing the geese every bit as warily as they were eyeing him. I debated making a crack about how the big bad wolf was afraid of a few feathers, but managed to keep both the terrible pun and my laughter to myself. Instead, I turned my attention to the clearing at large.

  My gaze traveled along the perimeter, noting the subtle differences now that I wasn’t looking at it from the perspective of a hunted animal. The trees weren’t as tall, the lake wasn’t as wide, and the geese weren’t nearly as intimidating. I smiled to myself and brought my focus to the hill that had nearly killed me, then followed the tree line.

  Amidst the crowded trunks, in spite of the bright light, a dark patch stood out and the fear I'd felt that day sprung back to life. I swallowed my sudden anxiety, no longer interested in playing this game.

  “You’re right about enough exercise,” I said as I turned away from the pond and sinister shadow.

  Michael looked at me askance. “Something wrong?”

  “I’m hungry is all,” I said, affecting false cheer.

  He didn’t seem to buy it, but didn’t protest as we made our way back to the original path and then to the car. We ended up picking up lunch and taking it back to his place to settle in for some more heart-to-heart werewolf talk.

  “Did it have to be hot dogs?” I asked, kicking my shoes off.

  “You didn’t really think I’d let it go?” He laughed as he set down the food and fixings.

  The couch gave out a big whoosh as I flopped down and eyed the impressive spread. There was enough for a small party, but like everything else, it seemed that was something I would have to get used to.

  “Anyway, I figure we should talk about what you're going to do,” Michael said, then devoured a dog in two bites.

  “About what?” I asked as I prepped a condiment-loaded bun.

  “About what?” he echoed, mirroring me with his second helping. “Sara, there’s a reason I wanted you to stay here last night.”