His normally mean look was clouded by terror, and the scent of his fear became combined with the scent of urine. He had pissed his pants.
Rose’s grip only tightened around his wrist. Bones cracked under the pressure. He let out another cry of pain.
A snarl blew heated breath upon the hunter’s face. With a powerful thrust of an arm, she sent the hunter back so that he stumbled. He toppled over a chair and fell harshly onto his backside. He stared up at the werewolf and blinked in sheer disbelief.
Then a cold grin replaced that look. She hadn’t seen where she had thrown him and hadn’t realized that his precious gun was within arms reach. He held his useless broken wrist close to his body and reached for the weapon.
The metal glinted in the yellow light of the room, a moment too late for her. Rose prepared herself to charge at him, but the gun had already discharged.
A blinding pain momentarily crippled her, and she fell upon all fours, emitting a sound akin to that of a wounded pup. It stung madly in her shoulder. It had struck bone. Blood poured from the wound.
The cold shock of it was enough for her to resume her human form. Her wolf form seemingly melted away as she conformed once more to the human shell the wolf resided in. Rose remained on her haunches. One palm touched the floor, the other rested upon the gaping wound. She didn’t care if she appeared to him as a half naked woman with a bloodstained chest. Her long hair made a perfect veil around her face and tears brimmed in her golden eyes.
The pain was crippling, and she cried out as she tried to rise to her feet. He towered over her and gave an extremely hard kick to her side. Rose screamed as torturous pain coursed through her body. She doubled over. Her gaping gunshot wound spilled even more blood down her chest.
“Please…” She tried to say. Tears fell down her face. The pain was too much. She couldn’t see further than the bright colors of the hurt.
She could hear Marcus’ laughter, and smell the stink of his cologne, his urine and his fear as it emanated from him. Another deafening shot rang and pain sliced through her midsection. It exited. This time it took her breath away, and all she could do was gasp for the air that was not there.
No, it cannot end like this. Her mind raced. The wolf within her struggled to come out again, but the pain kept it at bay. Wounded even on the inside, Rose felt powerless to stop her inevitable death.
Marcus gripped her hair and pulled her up into a sitting position. Tears blurred her vision, but not enough that she couldn’t see the gun pointed at point blank range at her forehead.
Rose forced herself to look beyond it and into those cold grey eyes. The malicious gleam shone brightly in those orbs and she knew she had only once chance left.
Arrogant as men often are in situation in which they exert their power, Marcus gave a cocky smirk.
“Any last words, bitch?” he asked. He spat his words at her. Rose barely heard him through her agony. She continued to gasp for breath. Blood now stained the carpet around her feet. Rage blinded her, but she stared up in the direction of his voice.
“Just…two…” She finally choked the words out through gasps of air. She was a little surprised to find her own lips were slipping into a sneer. “Fuck you.”
Marcus’ self-pleased leer became a grimace of anger. He let go of her, throwing her back. She fell with a groan, rolling onto her side. He cocked the gun. The resulting click was ominous. Rose’s breath was heavy and her heart pounded. Blood and sweat mingled their scents. It putridly filled the air around her. Her fingernails dug into the floor as she rolled onto her back to look at him.
Inches from her death, Rose made her move. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. She saw his finger edge back on the trigger. The blast of the gun was clear and the bullet left its chamber.
And hit an empty space were Rose had just been.
She crouched to the floor. She ignored the blistering pain that accompanied her movements and pounced forward. Her strong back legs gave her just enough push to accomplish the distance.
No sooner had the shot been fired, Rose was on him. Her preternatural strength was only matched by his determination and gusto. The force of her shove knocked the man back.
Marcus let out a cry and cradled his broken wrist close to him. The gun clattered to the floor and out of the way.
Her panting was heavy as she pinned him down on the floor. Her grip resumed around the broken wrist. She snarled and stared down at him angrily.
“I’ve had enough of you” she growled at him. There was a perfect combination of fear and anger in his eyes, and she delighted in it.
“Bitch,” Marcus spat at her. At that, Rose grinned. The man made a move to struggle out of her grip, but Rose only tightened her strength on the wounded wrist. A whimper of pain issued from Marcus.
“I have half a mind to let you live,” Rose told him. She had already begun to feel the lightheadedness associated with blood loss. She fought to ignore it and kept her focus on holding this criminal down. “But keep it up, and I might change my mind.”
Laughter rang from the hunter. His face contorted in mirth. He leaned his head back and opened his mouth wide as he laughed. Confusion rose for a moment within her. She saw spots dance before her eyes. She felt dizzy.
“I don’t think so, Ms. Sullivan,” the hunter said. “I really don’t think so.” Taking advantage of her weakened state, he broke free of her hold and threw her back from him with a swipe of his good arm.
Rose rolled to her side and struggled to climb to her feet. She stumbled a few times and collapsed on the floor once more.
This isn’t happening, a voice within her head screamed. This can’t be happening.
Through her pain and her lightheadedness, the wolf steadily began to take over. Instinct once more kicked in, and Rose felt a surge of adrenaline rush through her body. It gave her strength enough to stand to face Marcus. The wolf couldn’t come out. The pain prevented her from changing, but being human had its advantages.
Marcus was looking for his gun.
As Rose stood to her full height, she found the gun just within her reach. A moment too late, Marcus saw it and he scrambled for it. Rose moved fast and the gun was in her hands, heavy and foreign. She aimed it directly at the hunter. All color drained from his face when the realization hit him. He started to make his move.
The gun fired one shot. Having very limited experience when it came to guns, Rose’s aim was off, but it hit him in the left leg. He crumbled to the floor. His enraged cries echoed.
“You fucking wolf bitch!” he screamed. Marcus began to crawl out of the way. He tried to seek shelter behind a cabinet. Rose fired the gun once more.
The bullet ripped through the torso. Marcus screamed this time. His one good hand touched the gaping and bloody wound at his stomach. “Bitch…” he choked out. His face contorted in pain.
Rose fired one more shot. This one held more precision than the rest, and it struck true in the chest. Marcus soon slumped into a silent mass on the floor.
The handgun fell from her hand and hit the floor with a thud. Fresh blood dotted along the walls and pooled bright on the carpet. Rose stared at the lifeless body, feeling numb.
He was dead. She had killed someone. She had killed a hunter.
It was a numb realization. Her movements were fluid, yet slow as she moved through the house. She stepped over the dead bodies on her way. She found simple clothes in the laundry room, and though it pained her, she put them on. It was with a blank mind and blank thoughts that she left Tiffany’s house, got into her car.
She had killed someone. Her best friend was dead. Her way of life as she knew it had come to an end. It was all over. She had done the single worst thing a werewolf could do, that anyone could do. It had been self defense. It had been instinct…but she couldn’t shake the horrible feeling that, in saving her own life, she now risked exposing all of her kind to a most certain fate.
All she could do was cry.
Chapter Two
She glanced down and over at her shoulder. She pushed aside the cloth of her blood-stained T-shirt. The wound was deep and red, but it had stopped bleeding. That was a good sign. It was healing. The blood that had splattered along her neck, arm and chest had dried. It was still sticky, and whenever she inclined her head, she could feel the sickening pulling sensation against her skin.
Rose had to shift gears again. She clenched her teeth to bear the sudden hurt. Easing her foot down on the clutch, she gave a jerk to the stick shift and cried out against the pain. It brought tears to her eyes. She had to get that bullet out.
It wasn't very far to Jason's now. If only she could hold out that long.
The silver bullet burned every second it remained in her flesh. Rose could feel it. It hurt more now than it did when it first hit her. It was lodged somewhere in the meat of her shoulder. Every movement burned through her.
Rose knew full well that silver had no ill effect on werewolves, but it still hurt. The scent of blood was strong and overwhelming. Her blood was distinguished easily enough. She had smelled it before. She could smell Tiffany’s blood, and Marcus’. She felt another wave of nausea and quickly thrust all thoughts of the asshole hunter from her mind. She couldn’t think on it now. She had to get home.
At any minute she could pass out and veer off the road. She could hit a tree and die. She fought to stay conscious just long enough to reach Jason’s. The lights of oncoming traffic were bright. They blinded her and Rose squinted against the brightness. It wasn’t far now.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself. The lightheadedness was returning. She had lost too much blood. She pressed her foot harder against the gas pedal, and the Mustang GT accelerated dangerously along the dark highway. She was going well over the speed limit, but she didn’t care. She just wanted to get to Jason’s, get help…
Be safe…
Rose forced herself to check the rearview. There were no flashing lights. The cops were not after her. There was no ominous black BMW on her tail. There were no cars of any kind. Rose breathed a slight sigh of relief.
She focused on the road. The white lines that flew past on her right and the yellow lines on her left began to lull her predisposed body into a stupor. She shook her head. She was almost there. Almost there.
She thought of her fiancé with a strong longing to be with him. His muscled arms would wrap around her, and she would take comfort as she would rest her head against his chest. He would stroke her dark hair softly and whisper words of comfort. He would protect her.
Rose closed her eyes briefly and lifted her arm to touch the chain around her neck. Pain stung through her limb, but she endured it enough to touch the engagement ring that dangled at the base of her throat.
Jason…
Whenever she touched it, it reminded her of him. Now it was sticky and wet with blood. She let go of it.
Rose tried to pull her focus away from her past memories. She needed to focus on the road ahead.
The lack of light and the looming trees only made the dark road even more menacing and shadowed, but she continued on. Her foot pressed hard against the gas pedal. She clenched her teeth tightly as she moved to downshift again. She slowed the car just enough to take the turn she needed.
Her right shoulder throbbed with pain and her stomach continued to cramp where the bullet had passed through. She couldn’t tell if there was any internal damage. She was healing fast. The cramping would end shortly.
I have to get that bullet out. Her flesh had already covered over it, but as long as the bullet remained, it would continue to burn and would never fully heal. The skin would have to be reopened, which meant more pain and more blood.
She fought a wave of sudden nausea at the thought and took a deep breath to regain her composure. There was no time for a weak stomach now.
She saw the cabin come into view up ahead. The road was still long and rocky. Rose took it too fast. Every jar the Mustang made on the unpaved path sent jolts of pain through her. She didn’t slow down.
The small cabin was dark. His bike wasn’t in the drive. He wasn’t home. Rose felt her stomach drop. A sudden lump of despair formed and she cried out. She would have to do this alone. Jason couldn’t help her now.
She winced as she opened the door of her silver car and stepped out. Rose took comfort in the woodsy smell that surrounded the cabin, but it was short lived. Pain shot through her shoulder and arm suddenly, and she cried out again.
She hurried up the steps and inside the house. With a flick of the switch, the living room was filled with sudden harsh light. She let the door fall shut behind her.
She had made it.
The room spun. Quickly, Rose gripped the back of the couch and waited until the room stopped moving. Once she had collected herself, she started for the bathroom at the end of the hall.
Once she made it into the room, the dizziness hit once more. This time she held the door frame and balanced herself between the hall and the bathroom. She felt sick. Hair fell into her eyes and she could see the dark strands were matted with blood.
She fought to keep her consciousness. She waited for the lightheadedness to subside once again. When it did, she was so overcome with a sense of foreboding doom, she almost lost her balance. She stumbled into the bathroom and grabbed hold of the sink to keep from falling.
Tiffany had been killed tonight, and she had been attacked. The man was dead now. She had killed someone. He had been a hunter. She had put herself in danger. She had put Jason and every other werewolf that she was connected with in danger.
Somehow, Rose knew it wasn’t over yet.
* * *
The loud music of the bar did very little to drown out his increasingly worried thoughts. Again, Jason Barnett dialed her cellular phone number, but there was no answer. Instead, her soft voice repeated through the earpiece:
“Hi! This is Rose! I’m not able to answer my phone right now, so if you want to leave me a message, just tell me your name and number and I’ll call back! Bye!” It was followed by a beep, to which Jason hit the “end call” button on his phone. He gave out a sigh as he watched the number flash on the flip phone’s screen.
It wasn’t like her to not answer her phone…
With a small click, he closed the phone and put it back in his pocket. The bar was crowded and noisy. People pressed past him and he scowled at the laughing drunken couples.
With the sneer still there, he lifted his bottle to his lips and took a long drink of the cold beer. It wasn’t his favorite drink in the world, but it was cold and refreshing. He savored it. He was in need of something stronger, something harsh that burned his throat and made him forget about things. He knew better though. He was going to be driving later and being drunk wasn’t something he wanted right now.
His gaze traveled over the dimness of the bar. He looked at people briefly when they passed. Bits and pieces of conversation drifted to his ears, and his sensitive hearing, much more sensitive than that of a human, could close in on anyone he wanted to in this place. But Jason didn’t exactly want to listen to anything being said here.
He had his own problems.
He was tempted once again to reach within his pocket and remove his phone and hit redial, but he refrained and instead rested his hand on the bar top. This wasn’t like her. She would’ve called back.
Jason only prayed her phone battery was dead or that she had left it at home. Not anything else, not something horribly bad. Images flashed in his mind and he quickly pushed them out.
Loud voices penetrated his thoughts just then and he was momentarily grateful they had been interrupted. That gratitude left when he glanced to the corner of the bar and eyed the ones who had caused it.
One of t
he men looked very familiar. He had short feathery brown hair, wisps of which fell across his forehead and clung to it. Nervous grey eyes darted around the bar. He quickly downed a shot glass full of dark liquor. It was the dark man beside him doing all the talking. He was muscular, with short black hair, brown skin and a goatee. He stood beside the other man and peered down at him from his lofty height.
Jason narrowed his eyes at the paler man and listened in avidly on the conversation.
“I told you, he’s not going to like this.” the burly man said. “Just give it up.”
The other man laughed. “Yeah, right. I got a lead.” His gaze flickered for a moment in Jason’s direction then away just as quickly. “Trust me Eric, okay? Tell him to trust me, and I’ll work it out.”
The other man’s gaze drifted in the direction his comrade had looked to so briefly. Jason calmly raised an eyebrow as this man didn’t look away as quickly. The man nodded and looked back at his seated buddy.
“All right…I’ll tell him. But he will not be happy.” With that, the heavier man made his way toward the exit. He threw a contemptuous glance at his companion, and then threw one at Jason. He disappeared into the evening.
Jason looked down at his beer bottle and furrowed his eyebrows together. That man was familiar. He didn’t know his name, never spoke to him, but he had seen him more than once. It sparked some suspicion in him. Who was this guy? Was he being followed?
And only one thing came to Jason’s mind. Hunter.
He had encounters in the past with other hunters and he wanted no more of it. For werewolves, it was a matter of keeping things hush-hush, something many younger rogues were incapable of. Even a half-blood, like himself, with only half the genes and strengths of a full-blooded werewolf, knew that. It was common knowledge.
But leave it to a few to ruin it for everyone else.
Perfect, Jason thought to himself with a shake of his head. He took another swig of beer and tilted his head back as he drank. When he finally lowered his head and the bottle, he found the guy was no longer seated where he had been a few moments ago.
Sweet Moon Dreams Page 2
