Raging Moon

by Lea Jade

  Xavier, on the other hand, is a different story. He looks at me like he wants to see inside of me and tinker around a bit, and not my inner emotional state either but my actual working organs. Creepy as hell.

  When I get to the clinic, I unlock and quickly set up, and then take my phone from my bag which is hanging from the back of the chair. I’ve got what seem to be over a hundred missed messages from my pack. Although, on closer inspection it’s more like ten. Most are from my mom. Two from Zac telling me to get my ass back to pack territory or he’ll make me wish I’d been born less than an omega. I scowl at the screen, tempted to throw the phone back in my bag rather than call him. As if that’s even a thing. Being omega means you’re the lowest in pack. There is no lower than that. He’s such a dick sometimes.

  I grab my jacket and a packet of unopened cigarettes from my bag and head back into the tunnels to make my way to the rear exit of the warehouse. I don’t smoke, but I had the bright idea to use them as cover for when I’m snooping around. I can say I’m just out for a smoke or something. I just hope to fates that they don’t make me light up as I’m pretty sure I’d fail right there. I’ve never even drunk alcohol. I lied about my age and experience of course, I’m still a medical student. If I get caught impersonating a doctor, forget the twins, I’m pretty sure the law would have me.

  Outside the only light is from a solo streetlamp and the loading bay interior. The place is deserted. I pull on my jacket and lean against the warehouse wall, then speed dial Zac’s number. It rings once before he picks up. That’s the fastest he’s ever answered. Usually he lets it ring while he’s on a job. He must be pissed.

  “Jess. What the fuck? Where are you?” His voice is all authority. I want to tell him. I have to tell him.

  I take a breath, before my own wolf caves in and makes me give myself up. I think of my brother, and how much I miss him. That, and having a distance between us gives me the strength I need. “Screw you, Zac. I’m not coming home.”

  “Just tell me where the fuck you are now.”

  “Or what? You’ll drag me back? You might be dominant but you’re not my Alpha.” Not all of the pack supported Zac’s claim, my family included. When my dad was Alpha, Zac wasn’t even fucking Beta. That makes him as low as third in line for pack leadership. Third. One step up from no one. Just because he’s a man....

  I breathe in deeply.

  None of that that matters anymore. I couldn’t care less about pack politics. I just want Dylan, my brother, back home where he belongs, with me.

  There’s a growling down the other end of the line and I flatten my lips in response. In this form I can’t flatten my ears, so this is the next best thing.

  “So, you’re not coming home?”

  “Not right now.”

  “Shall I tell your mother that?”

  What am I? Twelve? But I don’t say that, instead I remind him of how much he’s going to hurt when she finds out he lost me. “It’s your funeral.”

  I know I sound like a petulant child, but I’m not going to give in. Not when I’m this close. I know the brothers had something to do with Dylan’s disappearance, I just know it. Zac might be the next Alpha but he’s a freaking coward too sometimes.

  “Fuck, Jess, you do my head in, you know that? If you’re not going to tell me where you are, just tell me you’re safe, at least.”

  “I’m safe.” Lying is easier on the phone when he can’t smell his way to the truth.

  Suddenly there’s a noise coming from the garage door which doubles as an entrance to the twins’ apartment; a two-storey, glass tower duplex sitting adjacent to the arena warehouse. From my spot against the wall, I glance over. It looks like the shutters are starting to open, and I can just about hear the sound of a car engine as it approaches.

  Someone is coming home.

  “Look, I’ve got to go,” I say, backing out of the way of the headlights and into the protective shadow of the building. It might be Eric. If he catches me outside while the fight is on, I can kiss this job goodbye.

  “Wait…”

  I hang up on Zac and crouch down in the dark, turning my phone off in time as a rather luxurious-looking black vehicle with huge silver wheels pulls into the loading bay area, and then into the twins’ driveway. It’s not Eric. He has a Merc, if I remember rightly.

  From my hiding place, and by the soft light of the streetlamp, I can just about make out the driver is a woman; a rather beautiful one with light-brown hair piled high on her head and dark red lipstick. I switch to my wolf eyes to get a better glimpse and I swear she looks right at me with eyes as red as a summer sunset.

  She must be a shifter. I can’t imagine the twins have many human visitors, so it stands to reason. In fact, I’ve never seen them have any visitors ever. They certainly don’t bring girls back home. They have a suite in casino hotel for that.

  Who is she?

  As she drives into the building’s underground garage like she owns it, I hesitate to follow. Curiosity has got the better of me and I really want to slip under the shutters before they can seal shut, but I don’t. I have to go back. The fight should be over by now, and I have a job to do if I don’t want to get fired.

  When I get back to the corridor where the clinic is, Jake is waiting—leaning against the wall all bloodied, battered, and naked from the waist up. He looks like he’s been dragged through hell a hundred times. He also looks divine.

  His pale-blue eyes flick my way. There’s a question in them. No doubt he wonders where the hell I’ve been, but he doesn’t say anything, instead he folds his arms while I open the clinic door and then follows me inside.

  I grab my white coat from the behind the door and gesture to the examination bench, trying not to stare too much as he strips off. I reach for my stethoscope to start the check-up. I can’t help but notice he’s still wearing the bloodied wraps on his hands. My eyes do wander a little though, I can’t help it. It’s hard not to take in his lovely broad, sculpted shoulders complimented by a set of perfectly chiseled abs. My mouth goes dry and I find my gaze sliding down to the solid v of muscle just above his shorts. A blush forms on my cheeks. Every freaking time.

  You’d think I’d be used to half naked men by now given the profession I’ve chosen and usually I am, but there's something about Jake that has me an emotional mess inside. He was a legend to me growing up. The greatest fighter our pack has ever seen. Our fighter. My father’s second.

  And now, there's a strange attraction seeing him like this. Vulnerable. Broken. A shell of the wolf he once was. He’s not even the same wolf he was in the ring moments ago. He’s quieter, more subdued, sitting on my examination table, gritting his teeth as I examine the wound on his side. That’s not to say he’s weak. Jake could never be weak, not by any means. Hell, after what I’d just seen out there in the pit, being weak is something no one in their right mind could possibly accuse him of.

  My own wolf, submissive as she is, agrees and whimpers. She wants me to crawl on my belly and lick his ears and offer myself up to him.

  Not happening.

  I catch him looking at me, a stray smile ghosting his lips. I ignore him and carry on running my hands over his sculpted abs, checking for internal injuries. His skin feels warm to touch and I want to get closer. Instead, I step away and take out my suture kit. He’s a shifter and that means accelerated healing, but his healing abilities have been slowing down lately which is the only reason the twins have brought me in. I've not been able to pinpoint what it is that's making him more human than the rest of us. He looks tired, but nothing a little sleep wouldn't fix.

  He's still staring at me. Blue orbs burning into my soul. Annoyingly, he must have scented what I was thinking earlier. I suppress the urge to roll my eyes as I thread the needle. I may be an omega but that doesn’t mean he’s my alpha and I’m going to let him do what he likes. I’m a negotiator rather than a pushover, used to alphas who, despite appearing all macho, are so busted up and bloodied within an inch o
f their lives they need me to survive. The harder they fight, the worse they fall.

  Even if my wolf thinks otherwise, it’s my human form who has control right now. There’s no way in hell I’m letting him see how much his semi-naked body affects me.

  I catch a wry smile on his face from the periphery of my vision. “You have very steady hands...” He winks at me.

  Suddenly, for some reason I'm angry. The Jake I know wouldn't make jokes like that. Not to me. Not to the Alpha’s daughter.

  But having been here for at least a month, seeing him up night after night, I can safely say Jake doesn’t remember me.

  “Ouch!” He grunts as I pass the needle a little deeper than I intend.

  “Sorry. Did I hurt you?” I say eventually, not quite able to meet those blue eyes of his.

  “All good.”

  He’s not one to complain, even though I jabbed him quite hard on the last pass.

  “You're doing great,” he adds with a soft smile, one that warms me from the inside out.

  “I'm doing my best,” I say. “You took quite a beating out there.”

  “You should see the other guy,” he quips.

  It’s my turn to frown at him.

  The other guy is probably dead which makes him a murderer, just like everyone else in this fates forsaken building. He’s worse than all the others, given who he used to be. The Jake I know would have stopped this, not become the reigning champion of the Pit—slaughtering more souls than anyone else I've ever met. What's his kill-count again? Eric spouts it at every opportunity he can get. To be honest, I don't even want to remember.

  Not everyone who fights in the Pit is there to win the prize money, most are there out of debt to the Twins, having no choice but to enter the cage and fight the Raging Wolf. If Jake knows that and takes their lives anyway…

  My blood boils just thinking about it. I steal another glimpse into his eyes. Traces of regret seem to lurk in their wintery depths. There’s a distance in the way he regards me back, like he’s looking at me from behind a sheet of glass. When I first saw him fight, I had hoped he wasn't killing his all opponents. I prayed he wasn't. Otherwise what's the hope for Dylan still being alive.

  “Do you kill them all?” I ask, finishing up his stitches and gently applying a salve to the wound.

  “All who?”

  “Your opponents. All they all dead?” My words are as blunt as the pain in my heart. If Dylan is dead…

  His nostrils flare as he looks at me. “Not all, no.”

  “So what happens to the ones you don't kill?” I’m hyper aware my voice is raised and my eyes are blazing, but I don’t care. I’m risking everything by asking but I have to know. I can’t not know.

  “Honestly, I’ve no idea.”

  I narrow my eyes at him, I can't help it. “Of course, you don’t,” I snap.

  His brows raises, and he stares at me like I’m not who he thought I was. He’s right. I’m so not. For the first time the sheet of glass between us has a crack. “Did I offend you? Why are you mad at me?” The confusion on his face is real. He really doesn't have a clue.

  Fates, this is harder than I thought.

  “I'm not mad, I'm just…” I breath out, letting all my frustration go in one breath. Getting mad at Jake isn't going to help me find my brother. I have to be smart about this and use the only asset I have right now to get Jake on my side.

  I need to flirt.

  “I don't get why men fight all the time,” I say, and offer him a tight smile. It's not flirty but it's the best I can do given that I wanted to punch him in the balls only seconds ago. It’s also my attempt at changing the subject to relieve the mounting tension. Anything to get him to smile at me again. Fates, I'm such an omega; All I want to do is please.

  “Hey, there are women fighters too, you know,” he says after a pause.

  “Seriously?” I ask, raising a brow. “When? Where?” I've never seen women fight here and I'm not sure I believe him.

  “They host the women’s fights here once a month, usually after a full moon.”

  The confusion on my face is real. “Why only once a month?”

  “It’s expensive to pull off. It’s mostly to draw in new punters. A showboating event, if you like. Much more like wrestling than bare knuckle slaughter.”

  I raise an eyebrow at this. “So powderpuff death matches, then? How enlightened...”

  He shakes his head dismissively. “From what I’ve seen, females rarely ever fight to the death, it’s more in the interest of... Er... titillation, than genuine combat.”

  “Titillation?”

  “They fight topless. There might be mud too.”

  I didn't know whether to laugh or to find this demeaning, but I end up doing both. “Seriously?” I give him an incredulous look. He’s joking, right?

  He chuckles and the humor reaches his eyes making them twinkle. “Hey, I didn't say I’m right there in the audience,” he protests. “This might come as a surprise to you, but I prefer to spend as little time in or around the Pit as humanly possible. I’m not here because I want to be. But I mean, if you're really that interested in the female matches, I can get you front row tickets. Or the sign-up sheet, whichever you prefer...”

  At that, he gives me the once over, sending little sparks of desire down to my core.

  I let myself to blush—it comes naturally being a submissive omega in the presence of a dominant wolf. Did I mention I’m great at negotiation, at charming the pants off a dominant shifter until he’s goo in my hands? Zac refuses to utilize my gift, hell, even acknowledge it, but I know what it’s worth. A date with the mighty Jake might just get me what I want here. I’m partly worried about my body’s reaction to his raw appraisal just now, but screw it. Jake is hot. Why wouldn’t I find him attractive?

  But, my position as an EMT here, as well as my stupid ulterior motive in infiltrating the black-market elite, hinges on the condition of my anonymity. Dating Jake might get me found out or worse Dylan killed, if he’s still alive.

  I'm also still mad at him and I don't know why. He's clearly not the Jake I remember.

  “You know, if you hate something so bad why do it so well every day of the goddamn week? I think you like it more than you let on,” I say, glaring at him.

  “Is that right?” he says, the warmth in his eyes turning to ice. Instantly, I miss his more flirtatious self.

  “That's what I see.”

  “You may be right, but I will say that you don't know me well enough to lecture me on how I live my life. Not all of us have choices. There are things you don't intend for and there’s fuck all you can do about it. But I do know, that when it comes down survival or death, almost everyone would choose survival like I did, and do every day, if they had to.”

  I feel sufficiently chastened but that doesn't stop me from returning the coldness of his gaze straight on. “Maybe you’re right, I don't know what happened to you how or how you became a cold-blooded killer, but I damn well know I would’ve made a different choice given the circumstances. I'd rather die than become the same as you.”

  There’s an awkward and strained silence while he stares me. You can hear a pin drop and maybe my heart racing to catch up with my thoughts.

  What the hell. I'm supposed to be flirting!

  “I’m sorry,” he says flatly. “It’s been a long night. I need to rest.”

  The air is thick with frost between us, making it hard to breathe and the brief connection we had is long gone, dead already. I killed it in favor of telling him how I feel, my real thoughts on this whole bloody charade. Crap, now he knows he’s going to rat me out to the twins.

  Great, Jess, this is not the way to get Jake on your side!

  “I’m sorry. I overstepped the line. I shouldn't have said that.”

  He shrugs. “You’re allowed to have an opinion. Being ringside every night isn’t a pretty sight. Are you sure you’re cut out for life as a fight doctor?”

  I blink a few times, g
nawing my lower lip.

  Ouch. I guess I deserve that.

  “Touché,” I say finally, and offer him a smile with an outstretched hand. “Still friends?”

  The cold front melts somewhat as he returns my gaze. The corners of his mouth curling up slightly. “Of course, why wouldn’t we be?”

  Why wouldn't we be indeed?

  “Okay, you’re done here. Try to avoid shifting for a few days until that heals up. I’ll run your bloods again, see if there’s any change. I want to crack this mystery of your slow healing before your next big fight,” I say, nodding to his abdomen.

  “It’s probably just a lack of protein. I should eat more red meat.”

  “Hmm, I don't think so. Just take it easy, okay?”

  “Duly noted,” he says, hopping up from the table, as though he didn’t have two massive gashes in his side and a ton of drugs starting to work their way through his system.

  “And start taking this,” I say, producing a couple of medicine bottles from a locked cabinet. “It should help you heal a bit faster and stave off any secondary infection.”

  “What is it?”

  “Oral antibiotics and some painkillers.”

  “Human drugs?”

  “Since you’re reacting to injuries like a human, we have to treat you like one. Just for now until we figure this out.”

  He nods, reaching to take both medicine bottles.

  And as his fingers brush over mine, a wild spark of energy erupts. It snaps along the course of my entire body making me jump, causing Jake to gasp and snatch his hand away, dropping both bottles.

  The Raging Wolf looks up, his pale-blue eyes colliding with mine.

  He growls.

  My own wolf reacts, letting out a low, soft and almost imperceptible, growl.