Moon Claimed: Supernatural Battle (Werewolf Dens Book 2)

by Kelly St Clare

  “There’s something I need to come clean on,” she spoke to her hands. “When you first arrived here, Dad said that we needed to do everything we could to ensure you stayed.”

  I blinked. “What?”

  Rhona met my eyes briefly. “He told me to introduce you to people our age. I was meant to show you our community without being too pushy. He said you didn’t have much money, so I asked you to drive my friends around to eat into what you did have. Dad said you’d be a great addition to the team, and he’d never done that before. I figured it was because you were a Thana. But it was wrong.”

  What the fuck. “He orchestrated all that?”

  Herc offered me a rent-free apartment and a job within a minute of me expressing interest in remaining here. He and Rhona were a big part of my decision to stay.

  They’d made me feel so welcome.

  And it was all fake.

  My mouth dropped. “Was he dangling that information about Mum on purpose too?”

  I’d hesitated about playing the game before he informed me Mum was a star player. And he said Mum’s friend couldn’t talk until Tuesday when I’d expressly mentioned departing on Monday.

  Is there any way you can extend your trip?

  “Why?” I asked.

  She lifted a shoulder. “Because you were his long-lost stolen daughter, I suppose. I didn’t ask at the time.”

  “Were Wade and Cameron involved?”

  “I saw them introduce themselves at the lake. You seemed to get on well, and I told Dad…”

  Who then used Wade and Cameron too.

  At least they’d had nothing to do with it. Rubbing my temples, I sighed. “There’s so much I want to ask him.”

  “Do you ever wonder if he was training you all that time?”

  I could lie to her. Jesus, this had to hurt her so much. I’d rolled in and pushed her off the podium in a matter of weeks.

  Herc was the one to replace her, but I looked like the shitty person.

  I had to conceal what happened with Sascha in Sandstone, but otherwise, I refused to disrespect Rhona that way. “The day we switched, Herc figured it out, but only told me after the meeting and asking me leadership questions.”

  He’d expressed concerns about Rhona’s ability to lead the stewards on multiple occasions. Personally, I thought he was wrong on that count. What I’d give to switch with her now. Give me the role of advisor any day. Chuck me in an office somewhere. Anything that removed this terrible pressure to succeed.

  “The date on the will was a week prior to his death,” she said quietly.

  “I heard.” My heart hurt for her.

  The date was unmissable. Seven days before Sascha snapped his neck, Herc changed his will to name me as heir. He’d only informed Pascal as she had to marshal the document, and she hadn’t said anything else on the matter thus far.

  Rhona stared at her hands, and a familiar fury rose in me, creeping over my jaw.

  “He loved you, Rhona. Never forget that. People fuck up.”

  “That’s a big fuck up,” she whispered. “Why lie for so long and then spell out the truth in a will? He could have left it buried.”

  Because I came back and started asking questions. “I think the answer has to do with why Mum and Murphy left with me. I want to find out what happened.”

  “She wasn’t your mother.”

  I swallowed against the stabbing pain under my ribs. “It’s hard to think of her as anything else yet.”

  To go from Mum to Aunty Ragna seemed physically and mentally impossible. And to think of Aunty Savannah as Mother was stranger still. I’d made the switch from cousin to sister with Rhona, but we’d forged a bond prior to this mess that made that leap easy.

  “Are you angry at her?”

  My mind flashed to sitting with Mum in the garden. “I can’t feel more anger. If I could, I’d be angry at all three of them.”

  They’d all lied. The person least to blame was ironically the person I’d blamed since three years old. Murphy.

  “Ragna stole you though.”

  “Savannah gave birth to me. Don’t you think it’s strange that none of the stewards saw a massive pregnant woman waddling around? How did no one know I existed? I mean, Mum fucked up too many times to count in my life, and I’m well aware of that. But something bigger is going on. People don’t just steal babies.”

  Rhona rose, rounding the desk. “Have you searched in here? I haven’t. Maybe there’s something that could help us. A fifty-page letter detailing all the answers we want.”

  I arched a brow. “Yeah, right. And I feel like an imposter sitting in this chair. So no.”

  Rhona elbowed me out of the way. “Get over it. You’re the eldest. Tradition is tradition.”

  This woman had an odd, kind of brutal way of lightening my heart. I opened the drawers to my left as she started on the right.

  In the top drawer, I found a list of the stewards. That could come in handy. Digging underneath, I found another folder titled Importer Contacts.

  Also handy.

  The next drawer down was filled with stationery. The last drawer had a change of clothes and some toiletries. Couldn’t blame him. There was a definite pressure to appear put together in this position. Maybe I should do that too.

  “What are these?” Rhona straightened from searching the bottom drawer, two books in her hand.

  My mouth dried. “They look like the journals Mum used.”

  She’d used a black, leather-clad journal each year. I’d read until age seventeen and assumed there weren’t more. Herc had purposefully concealed these.

  Rhona handed them over.

  The first was titled I’m 18 and the second I’m 19.

  If Herc concealed these, the journals had to contain truths he hadn’t wanted me to learn.

  “What’s wrong?” Rhona gripped my arm.

  I hovered my fingers over the page corner of the first, arrested by fear. Mum left at nineteen with me and Murphy. Was I ready to learn the truth? “She lied to me so badly. She’s not even my mother, and I should hate her for pretending. But she was the only person I had. How could she do that to me?”

  Why did she hurt me? Again and again.

  And why did I always forgive her?

  Since her death, wedge after wedge had been slammed between me and the memory of her. I couldn’t take another hit without losing her completely.

  Rhona whispered, “I guess the answer is inside those journals.”

  I cast her a look. “Herc kept these journals from me, Rhona. What if there’s something more in here? Something worse.”

  I couldn’t fathom what could be worse, but anything was fucking possible at this point.

  My sister paled.

  Exactly.

  I shut the cover. “I’m one blow from emotional knock out. We need to get through Grids this week. Whatever’s in here can wait.”

  Until I could handle it.

  “Just promise me, Andie, no matter what’s in there, you tell me. No matter how hard the truth is, I want it. I’m so sick of the lies.”

  Guilt slammed into my chest. I inhaled slowly, hating myself. “I promise.”

  3

  I parked Ella F outside the riverside apartment. The short time spent living in town and making my own way at The Dens before werewolves existed haunted me.

  Stewards were at dawn training, and this was officially the first chance I’d had to get out of the manor. People were always around, asking questions, clamouring for my thoughts, wanting something.

  I just needed one hour of alone time. Especially with the Tuesday night gathering tonight. If I didn’t decompress somehow, I’d end up shaving my head or something.

  I walked up the stairs and down the hall, then stood in the doorway, studying the small, open-plan space.

  Yep. Really fucking bittersweet.

  And I just needed to get over it.

  First step, moving out.

  Wade and Cameron transferred my clothes
to the manor after Herc’s death, but everything else was here. Setting the flattened boxes on the table, I set to work.

  Stripping the bed, I shoved the load in the washing machine and made up the boxes. Everything would fit in Ella F—the only new additions were the cleaning and cooking supplies. I couldn’t quite bear to leave them behind after having forked out the money for them.

  Habit was still a big bitchhole.

  Packing felt the same as emptying the house after Mum’s death.

  Like I was touching someone else’s stuff.

  This Andie played saxophone at a bar and had normal problems—well, mostly normal. I glanced at the saxophone case on the two-seater couch. After the will reading, I gave it to Wade to ditch here.

  That was part of old Andie’s life too. She’d played it for her mother.

  Tearing my gaze from the instrument, I boxed my few books and threadbare towels.

  The floor creaked.

  Heart leaping into my throat, I whirled to find a man in the doorway. Him. How the fuck did he have the audacity to show his face here?

  Sascha Greyson, dressed in jeans and a forest-green flannel shirt, looked at me from across the room.

  “You aren’t this stupid,” I told him.

  He took a breath.

  Oh? He was.

  “Get out. This is an unsanctioned meeting.”

  The Luther stepped into the room instead. “And when the marshals ask why I came to your apartment, will you tell them what nearly happened on that bed two weeks ago?”

  His face between my legs.

  Not that anything did happen, but what went down was without doubt the most erotic experience of my life. Every time I relived it, I felt like a disgusting piece of shit.

  I set the full box on the dusty kitchen table. “That’s a mighty bluff. The truth would be just as bad for your people as mine.”

  “My people know everything,” the werewolf said without missing a beat.

  There was a reason I didn’t try to best him with words. “You could try it, I suppose.”

  “You know I won’t.”

  “You killed my father. I think we can agree there’s no limit to what you’ll do.”

  Sascha lowered his head.

  I’d had enough interactions with him to recall that was a sign of submission, but the werewolf lifted his head again and took another step inside.

  “Get out,” I snapped. “I mean it. The only time I want to see you is on the other side of a screen.”

  The werewolf circled the table toward me. “The mating meets will continue.”

  Incredulous laughter left my lips. “I fucking dare you to try.”

  His eyes darkened, and my mouth shut with an audible click. Greyson loved nothing more than a challenge.

  I’d learned that the hard way. “You’ve catalogued my scents, right? Then have a good whiff. I loathe you. The sight of you is repulsive. What nearly happened between us in the past revolts me. I find you and your kind vile in every way. I was a stupid girl who didn’t believe what a monster you really were. What a wake-up call. Get the fuck out and stop trying to ruin what’s left of my life.”

  The Luther was carved from stone. Why couldn’t I be like that? Why was my breath shallow and erratic?

  Why were my eyes burning?

  Sascha lifted a hand to my face, and I reeled away.

  “Touch me and I will do my best to murder you with my bare hands.” Icicles dripped from every word.

  Shock coated his handsome features.

  Seemed fitting that the worst monsters had the prettiest packaging.

  “Hercules was wrong about one thing,” he said low and fast. “When the seven meets are done, you have a choice to decline me as a mate. I’ve scented you already. We’ve met gazes and touched, and my wolf captured you. There are three more meets. Then you’ll be free, and I won’t be driven to obey the meeting call. If you still don’t want me.”

  If you still don’t want me.

  “You’re incredible. How can I say this so you’ll understand? There is no possible future where I will not hate you. There will never be an us. I will never accept you.”

  His eyes glittered. “Then there shouldn’t be a problem seeing it through to the end.”

  “I don’t acknowledge rudimentary Luther rituals.” I gathered one of the filled boxes. “Close the door on the way out.”

  A small growl built in his chest. “You’re moving to the manor for good.”

  I didn’t answer.

  The werewolf followed me down the stairs. Opening Ella F, I shoved the box in, glowering when Sascha slid the remaining three inside after.

  His honey eyes bore into my face.

  The rage I felt toward him was almost shocking in its intensity. I wouldn’t have thought myself capable of so much hate.

  He inhaled.

  Yeah, have a good sniff. That’s undying fury.

  “Would it help if I told you how sorry I was?” he said quietly.

  My brows shot up. “You killed someone and you’re sorry? Shit, that makes it all better.”

  “I wasn’t talking about Hercules Thana. I won’t apologise for his death.”

  My face slackened. “You’re truly a monster inside, aren’t you?”

  “He intended to kill me. Do you know what my death would do to you?”

  Ugh.

  Considering Rhona had plans to tear Sascha Greyson apart, perhaps I should take notice of this. “What?”

  “It would break you.”

  Herc’s words came back to me. Your death won’t kill her.

  “But my death would kill you,” I mused.

  Sascha clenched his jaw. “You hate me that much?”

  My upper lip curled. “I don’t hate myself that much. It is good to have the insurance with your killing tendencies.”

  Black edged in on the honey. “He would have killed you too, Andie. Maybe not immediately, but in time, once he witnessed your reaction. I trust my wolf’s instincts implicitly. Hercules Thana was dangerous for you. Leaving him alive wasn’t an option. Not with the power he holds in this valley.”

  I’d never wanted a protector. I never wanted any of this. “You’re doing so well looking after me, Sascha. Sign me up.”

  He flinched. “I will prove myself to you. I will undo the hurt I’ve caused. I swear this to you.”

  His hurt was a cool rain on the furious inferno filling my heart.

  Nothing I said would get through to this beast.

  His eyes searched my face. “You should know a mating call between a Luther and human is unusual. Unheard of in our pack and in others I’ve reached out to. So far as I can tell, you didn’t complete your side of the scent meet. I think it’s because you don’t possess the strength of our senses.”

  Good. Something was going my way at last.

  “Without it, you can’t make your final decision, and the mating process cannot end.”

  My face hardened. “Again. I don’t acknowledge your rituals.”

  His jaw clenched. “This isn’t going away, Andie. If an answer exists, we’ll need each other to figure it out.”

  Yeah. Snort. I was sure that would work just fine with whatever he had planned for the next meet.

  I turned my back on him to slam the boot closed. “How about we skip to the end? You’re unworthy, Sascha Greyson. There’s not a chance in hell I’d ever choose you.”

  4

  I paced inside Herc’s office, breaths shallow. This was the first time I’d faced the stewards since the day at the lake. They knew I didn’t belong in this position. And like Rhona, they didn’t even know the truth.

  I shook my hands out, exhale shaking.

  The point of visiting my old apartment was to decompress. After the run in with Sascha, I was a mess.

  I couldn’t be a mess.

  This was crucial.

  Yet trying to not be a mess was just making me more of a mess.

  Fuck.

  The door opened, and R
hona stepped in. “Everyone’s here. It’s your turn.”

  No.

  I’d reached my limit. “I can’t do it.”

  Glancing over her shoulder, she closed the door. “That’s unfortunate, because you need to get your ass on that stage.”

  “I’ve played in the grid twice. Why the hell would anyone listen to me?”

  Why didn’t I go with Timber? Something safe. Something I didn’t need to justify.

  I could see it now. A sea of blank faces as they wondered why I’d bitten off the hardest grid out of the gate.

  “I fucked up.” I thumped my forehead against the bookshelf ladder.

  “You convinced the head team,” Rhona said. “And me.”

  Except the anger fuelling me all week had chosen now to disappear. I’d used it all against Sascha Greyson. Mothershitter.

  I sank to the floor, shoving my head between my knees. “I’m not doing it. Can you go out and make an excuse? I’m unwell.”

  “You can’t be hearing yourself.” She pulled my arms away. “All week, you’ve said we need to be confident and unified. What the hell do you think this message will tell our stewards?”

  That I sucked. I was past caring.

  This was my breaking point.

  Gripping my wrists, Rhona clenched her jaw, scanning my face. “Get up.”

  I stayed put.

  “Get up and put on my clothes,” she said, sighing.

  Jerking my head up, I took in her tight black cargos and long-sleeved, fitted top. She had a red cap on that read Go Fork Yourself.

  My steel-grey full-length jumpsuit was about as opposite as could be from her outfit.

  I rose on trembling legs. “You think it’ll work?”

  “No idea. But the tribe needs to see you tonight. And their looks of pity are grinding my gears. You be me. I’ll be you. Win-win. What do I say?”

  I rushed through the points of my intended speech, watching her nod at intervals as we switched clothing.

  I raked my hair into a ponytail. She pulled hers free.

  “You’ll need to say it like me.” I pressed my hands into my cheeks. Shit, this was ballsy, but I just needed to not be me for five seconds.

  “I’ve heard you say this stuff at meetings already. Piece of cake.”