Hunter's Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

So when Simon finally moved away from the door, her entire body went tense. He moved toward her.

  “It’s time,” he said. He sniffed the air, turning his head toward the door. “It’s night. I can smell it.”

  He looked down at her from his lofty height. His features were shadowed, but his eyes bright. Rose stared up at him, no longer hiding her disgust. She felt her face screw up. She didn’t have to say anything because instantly, Simon was provoked.

  He growled and reached for her. Rose had been mentally preparing for this moment all night. As he neared her, she let out a snarl and snapped at his hand. Like a caged animal, she lashed out. Her teeth, even in human form, were sharp and she bit down on the flesh just between his thumb and forefinger.

  Simon howled at the sudden, unexpected pain and wrenched his hand back, but not before Rose had ripped out a sizable chunk of his flesh. He clutched his hand to his chest, wounded.

  The taste of his blood was tangy, and she immediately spat the flesh out. She wiped the blood from her mouth. To her, it tasted like a poison, and like poison she wouldn’t let it linger for long in her system. She lowered her head, eye staring daggers at him as she gave her final warning.

  “Don’t touch me,” she growled. Simon glared at her. Blood oozed between the fingers of both hands as he pressed against it.

  And then suddenly the pain was gone, or at least ignored for the time being. He pounced at the mattress, throwing his full weight onto her. Rose yelled in fright and then again in pain as his knee drove down into her injured leg. She could feel the partially healed bone snap once more under the pressure. The pain blinded her. She bit down on her lip to keep from crying out again.

  When the pain began to clear and she could see beyond the bright colors of the hurt, she found Simon leering at her. His face was only inches from hers, his eyes wild and golden. His breath was rank, smelling of cigarette smoke and putrid, rottenness of something that smelled dead.

  “Listen to me and listen to me good,” he said in a low voice. His strong hands held her arms tightly and even if she could struggle, she wouldn’t have the chance. His weight bore down on her more and again she saw the red of pain flash before her eyes. She squeezed them tightly and whimpered.

  “Are you listening?” he hissed. “Are you?” His nails dug into her arms. Though his hands were slick with blood, he held tight to her.

  “Yes!” She opened her eyes just enough to see Simon’s satisfied smirk. She closed them again.

  “Good. You are going to do exactly what I say. I don’t like hurting you any more than I have to, so don’t do anything stupid. Just do what I tell you. Now look at me.”

  She whimpered, not wanting to. She felt the pressure ease from her arms. His hands touched her face. The smell of blood was strong. He grabbed her just under the chin, holding her jaw.

  “Look at me,” he demanded.

  “No.”

  “Look at me!” he shouted. She felt his fingers pressing against her eyelids, trying to force them open.

  “All right, fine,” she screamed back. When Simon’s fingers left her face, she opened her eyes. He stared at her intensely.

  “I want your eyes open, Rose,” he whispered. His hot, nasty breath blew into her face. She tried not to breathe it in. His fingers bit into her jaw. He added just enough pressure so she couldn’t open her mouth. “I want you to watch when I kill him.”

  His words made her tremble, not only with fear but with anger. She tried to struggle against him, but he continued his dominating presence. He leaned his face closer to hers. He drew his cheek along her own, his beard stubble scratching her skin as he nuzzled. He breathed in her scent and exhaled against her ear. Rose tried to protest, but he kept her jaw firmly closed.

  “I want you to watch me tear his throat out. I want you to see the exact moment when I become alpha. I want you to see your mate fall dead at my feet. I want you to see this, to know that I am the strongest and no one shall oppose me again.”

  Simon was crazy, she had always known this, but his words were ranting. They were the words of a deranged lunatic. Rose ceased her struggling and stared at him, her eyes wide. She realized suddenly that all this went deeper than his own personal vendetta, or his desire to have her bear his children.

  Simon wanted to be the dominant one. He wanted to be the supreme alpha, the pack leader over all. The blood had to be pure though, from his line, and he had to be in charge.

  “And I want you to watch it all,” he finished, a cruel grin on his face. He let go of her jaw, but Rose was too stunned to speak. He lifted himself from her, easing weight from her broken leg. Pain flared and she gasped.

  Without warning, Simon pulled her off the bed in one quick motion. He heaved her over his shoulder. She couldn’t even struggle. The pain now was unbearable. Her legs dangled helplessly against his back.

  “It’s time. This is it,” he said again. Rose whimpered in her misery as Simon pushed open the door and they stepped out into the night. There was a noticeable chill in the air, the ground covered with frost. She shivered in the cold as Simon carried her out of the burned shell of a house and down the front lawn.

  Dangling, she saw the ground give way to asphalt as they crossed the road and then more grass, leaves, weeds. The fallen leaves littered the ground and crunched under Simon’s bare feet as he trekked his way deeper into the woods.

  This is it, Rose repeated Simon’s words, knowing they were true. This is it.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  They remained in silence until they reached town. Jason gave directions in a monotone, pointing with his index finger in the direction Glen should turn.

  Glen nodded and steered the van through a residential neighborhood. When Jason indicated, he slowed the van to a crawl as they turned out of the residential places and headed out of town.

  Jason furrowed his brow. The road looked familiar. “Stop here,” he said. “I think this is it.”

  “Are you sure?” Glen asked, the first words he had spoken in a long while. Jason shook his head.

  “I don’t know, but it’s as good a place as any. Pull over.”

  Glen pulled the van to the side of the road and cut the engine. Everything grew deadly silent. Jason shifted his weight in his seat and took a deep breath.

  “I remember this road,” he began. “I came here a few years after I first met my father. We had agreed to meet again, the following week, but he never came. I thought he had a change of heart, changed his mind, or something. In any case, I was pissed off that he didn’t show up. Pissed off and hurt.”

  He paused, turning his attention away. He sighed heavily.

  “When I first met him, I was hesitant. I wasn’t sure if I wanted a father. We talked for a long time, almost all night, and he told me about his life, about my mother. That’s how I found out she was psychic and mentally ill. I knew that, her name and that she died when I was just born and that was about it.”

  “Then you must’ve known your father’s name. He must’ve told you he had a son,” Glen broke in. He looked at Jason with his eyebrows furrowed in concern. He had never heard this story before. No one had, not even Rose. They knew the truth about his mother, but that was all. His father was unknown to them.

  “Yeah, you’d think that,” Jason said, “Truth is, I didn’t really care at the time. Yes, I knew his name. I knew he had a son, though I wasn’t clear on his name. He was very vague about it. Point is, I put it out of my mind. I didn’t like to think on it, so I didn’t.”

  “So when you heard the name ‘Conner’, it didn’t register,” Davis said.

  “Right,” Jason said. “So my surprise at finding out the truth was shocking to say the least. It was a couple years after that before I gathered up enough courage and cut through my own misgivings to come here.”

  He looked out over the dark landscape. The woods nearby looked forlorn in the shadows. “I had the address on a piece of crumpled paper. I found the place, but there was no house there, only a b
urnt out shell. It had been for sometime. That’s when I knew there would never be a chance for me to actually know my father, so I left. I never came back.”

  “And you never thought of it either,” Glen added. He nodded in sympathy. “It’s understandable.”

  “The house—what’s left of it anyway—is just over there,” Jason said, ignoring Glen’s remark. He nodded in the direction. “That’s where Simon wanted us to meet.”

  “Then let’s not waste any more time,” Davis said in a low voice. They all silently agreed and piled out of the car.

  The air was biting and Jason was glad he had worn his jacket but its warmth offered little comfort because a cold feeling came from inside. As they walked the road leading toward the house, he kept an ever watchful eye on the trees to his right. It was as if he could sense Simon there. It was as if he were watching him, waiting, and Jason didn’t like it.

  They reached the house in a few short minutes. It was just like Jason remembered it. The house frame still stood, retaining a skeleton of its former structure. The blackened ground around it was dotted with tiny blades of grass and weeds had already begun to overrun the entire plot. There was a reminder of a territorial scent. Jason wrinkled his nose.

  “Where is he?” Davis spoke, breaking the silence.

  “He’s not here,” Jason answered. He stopped just outside the burnt area that might’ve been the kitchen. Remnants of furniture—refrigerator, sink, major appliances—had been removed long ago. Fifteen years had really taken its toll on what was left.

  “It could be a trap,” Glen answered. He took a few steps further until he stood on the blackened ground. “It smells like a trap.”

  “It could be,” Jason agreed. “Just keep your eyes open. He could try a sneak attack.”

  “That will be a first,” Glen said sarcastically. No one responded. There was too much tension. This was serious.

  Jason sniffed the air. The charred smell of the burnt wood assailed him, but he sniffed again to cut through it. He could smell the were-scent, both male and female, as well as the territorial scent and he wanted to growl. He had been here, with Rose.

  He began to walk, slowly and carefully toward the center of the house. He sniffed again. He smelled blood this time and a stronger trace of the were-scents.

  “They were here,” he spoke softly. “He had her here.”

  “Where?” Davis asked, but Jason didn’t answer. He paused, turning his head. He saw the door, slightly ajar.

  Suddenly, he felt sick. He had a strange, surreal feeling as if in a dream. It reminded him of the falling sensation he had when he dreamed of Simon throwing him through the window, in a strange twist of real events. It caused his stomach to lurch upwards.

  “Here,” he called to them, speaking louder. “Over here. There’s a door.”

  Jason reached it first, grabbing hold of it to pull it open.

  He felt it again, a stronger lurch this time. The world began to spin and he felt lightheaded. His vision blurred, blackened and he was immersed once again into a world of visions.

  He saw a black wolf crouched in deep foliage. He saw one brilliant yellow eye glowing in the darkness, the other empty, hollow. He heard a growl and then everything began to move again.

  “Oh God,” he choked out as the vision came to a halting end and he almost lost his balance. He leaned against the door. His heart beat wildly within his chest.

  “What? What is it?” Glen was at his side in an instant. “What happened?”

  “Another vision,” Jason whispered. “Stronger this time.”

  “A heavy psychic vibration,” Glen said, as if that could explain it all. “What did you see?”

  It was like a vibration, Jason realized, almost like an electric shock. It charged his body and left him feeling panicked. His adrenaline pumped, leaving him breathless.

  “I saw a black wolf.”

  “Simon?”

  ”I don’t know,” he said, calming down slowly. “I don’t know. It might’ve been him, but an eye—” he gestured vaguely at his face. “An eye was missing.”

  “Where is he?” Davis asked. He moved to stand beside Glen.

  “Not here,” Glen said, “but I can smell him. Rose too.”

  Jason had recovered enough that he didn’t need the support of the door. He pulled it open and peered into the darkness within.

  The first thing he noticed was the smell. At first, it smelled dank and wet, like something mildewing. Then he caught a hint of cigarette smoke and Simon’s dominating were-scent. Then he smelled Rose and blood and something else.

  He stepped down the three rickety stairs and entered the room. Glen hovered in the door behind him. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness.

  There was mattress in the corner, heavily soiled with what looked like drying blood. The floor was a mess of dirt and mud. Her scent was strongest beside the mattress and he took a step toward it.

  “Jason, don’t,” Glen warned, but it was too late. He had already picked up on the scent.

  Sex.

  There was no one way to describe it, but he knew that smell, knew it as well as any other scent.

  Rose and Simon and sex.

  He stared at the mattress, feeling the anger rise again within him. This is where it had happened. This is where she had betrayed him. This is where he had fucked her.

  “Jason, we need to go,” Glen said softly. “There’s nothing here.”

  “No, there’s not,” he agreed, finally calming down just enough. He turned away from the mattress, trying to force the image of it from his mind. “We need to get going.”

  He turned toward Glen and he moved out of the way just enough for Jason to pass. As he did, their eyes met and he saw the anger in Jason’s gaze.

  “I know where he is,” Jason said, remembering the vision. Simon was in the woods. Simon was waiting. “Let’s go.”

  * * *

  He dumped her unceremoniously to the hard, cold ground. She landed in a pile of wet leaves, already in the stench of decay. She looked down at the mess she sat in then up at Simon. He had stepped away from her to survey the area.

  The wooded area was small, but well shielded. The trees still held most of their leaves, blocking them from view of any passers-by on the road. Rose sniffed the air. The place smelled of the decaying leaves, of earth and tree bark. It smelled of stale air, something heavy that didn’t belong. It made her uneasy. She watched Simon as he walked a few feet one way, only to turn and walk back.

  “This is perfect,” he said, not so much to her as he did to himself. He looked gleeful, Rose noticed. There was mad sparkle in his eyes and he even rubbed his hands together. She could only stare at him, aghast. It was worse than she had thought.

  Simon had completely lost it.

  Not that he ever really had it, Rose couldn’t help but think sarcastically. It had gone way too far this time. There was something about him that seemed changed, completely mad. He was more unpredictable now than ever.

  She shivered in the cold, unable to do much else but watch him and pray for the end to come quickly.

  “It’s perfect,” he said again and laughed. The sound was loud in the clear, biting night. “This is wonderful.”

  Still, Rose said nothing. She didn’t know what was so perfect about it or so wonderful, unless he meant it as a great place for him to die. In that case, she agreed with him. She narrowed her eyes up at him, finally finding her voice.

  “I’m cold,” she said. She didn’t have the courage nor the strength to argue. She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered violently. Simon, naked, didn’t seem too awfully bothered by the chill in the air. In fact, his skin was beaded with sweat, as if he were running a high fever. And he probably was. A fever of madness.

  He stopped pacing and looked down at her as if he had forgotten he wasn’t alone. “Deal with it,” he said after a moment. “It won’t be long now. Then I’ll warm you.”

  The thought of Simon doing anything t
o her, much less warming her in whatever perverted way he was thinking, made her stomach curl. She felt sick. And to think, the wolf had wanted him and she had given in. That more than anything made her ill and she fought the urge to throw up right there.

  “Like hell you will,” she managed to say, though her voice sounded thick. “I still can’t believe I fucked you the first time.”

  “And the second and the third,” he added, a sly grin spreading across his face. “And I know you enjoyed it.”

  “I faked it.” She lied, of course. She hadn’t enjoyed it, not really. The wolf had. She stared at Simon, making sure her displeasure was known. She wrinkled her nose and curled her lip back. He only laughed.

  “You didn’t fake that. Just admit it. You liked it. You wanted it. It made you feel free, alive, powerful…”

  His words touched a nerve. She had felt all of those things and more, yet she wouldn’t admit them. Her face burned and she knew she was blushing. Simon chuckled and she looked away from him.

  “I guess you don’t have to admit it after all,” he finished. “Your silence speaks for itself.”

  “Fuck you,” she said hotly, turning her eyes back to him and glaring.

  “I’d love to.”

  He took a step toward her and Rose felt the wolf rise within her. She didn’t lift her head in lust this time. This time, she did it with anger.

  She growled, her throat straining to make the low, vibrating sound. It did the trick however. Simon stopped a few steps from her and stared at her curiously.

  She shifted her weight, sitting up more. She couldn’t stand, let alone walk or run. She was crippled, hindered where she was. Her hands, resting at her sides, dug into the mud and leaves. She felt her nails grow longer, sharper. They extended into a variation of her claws.

  A smirk spread over his face as Simon took one more step toward her. He knelt beside her. He didn’t make the mistake of reaching for her as he done before. Instead, he just stared at her, cruelly and coldly.

  “Before this night is over, you will give me the respect I deserve,” he began. “You will know where your place is and you will stand beside me, figuratively speaking.” He paused and looked down at her torn leg. “You will stand beside me when I take control, when I become—”