Wolf Moon

by J. E. Taylor

  “Do you happen to have a towel and a first aid kit?” Hunter asked.

  “You don’t need to stand by the door, son. Why don’t you come in and take a seat,” the man said.

  “I don’t want to ruin your carpet,” Hunter replied.

  The homeowner gave him a nod. “Well, then, I best get to it,” he said and stepped into the far hallway.

  Alessandra glanced at Hunter. His face had lost most of the bright color it had when he got back in the jeep after making them change. He leaned against the door, meeting her gaze, offering a half smile and a shrug.

  She stepped towards him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, but he certainly didn’t look fine.

  “Maybe you should sit.”

  “That’s not a bad idea. The adrenaline is definitely fading.” He slowly slid down to the floor and crossed his legs. “Way too much excitement for one night,” he mumbled.

  Alessandra let out a soft chuckle. He wasn’t kidding. She was just as exhausted as he looked, and her shoulder pounded. Sleep was beginning to be a necessity not just something nice, and she yawned.

  “I’m tired, too,” Hunter said, just as the man came out with a couple of towels and a first aid kit.

  “The name’s Stan, by the way,” he said, handing a towel to Alessandra and then to Hunter.

  “I’m Hunter, and my girlfriend’s name is Ally,” Hunter said, nodding in her direction.

  The way he said girlfriend sent a warm flush though Alessandra and she gave Stan a smile to mask the chill Hunter had created in her. It was almost as shocking a reaction as the way his lips had felt earlier.

  “Let’s take a look at that arm,” Stan said and crouched down next to Hunter, inspecting the tears in his shirt. “You might need to take that off, in order for us to get an idea of the severity of the wounds.”

  He nodded and attempted to shed the sweater and got his arm stuck in the fabric. Alessandra moved closer to help like he had done for her. Her hand grazed his skin as she peeled the sweater over his head and the connection lit a fire inside her. One that scared the shit out of her. His words from earlier echoed in her ears and she moved back so Stan could take a look at the damage she’d done to Hunter.

  “I’m not sure I have what you need in this box,” Stan said.

  Alessandra eyed the cuts. She had gone deeper than she meant to.

  “At least it wasn’t my throat,” Hunter said, trying to lighten the mood as he inspected the wounds. “I’ll just need to clean the wounds and use some butterfly Band-Aids.” He bit his lip and glanced up, meeting Alessandra’s gaze. “If you have a small tube of liquid band-aid, that would help as well.”

  “All I have is what’s in this kit,” Stan said, and flipped open the case.

  Hunter took a deep breath and laid the towel across his lap. “Do you have hydrogen peroxide?”

  Stan shook his head.

  “Whiskey?” Hunter asked, and Stan broke out in a smile.

  After Stan stood and disappeared into the kitchen, Alessandra said, “You’re not drinking that, are you?”

  Hunter grinned and lifted his shoulder. “That might dull the pain when I flush the wounds with it,” he said.

  The sting of irritation raked through her, but the flash in his eyes daring her to say more kept her silent. She had caused his pain. All of it, and nothing she could say would stop him from his current self-destructive path. At least nothing she was willing to admit to.

  Stan came back with the bottle and handed it to Hunter. Alessandra pressed her lips together as he unscrewed the bottle. The man actually hesitated, and closed his eyes for a second. When he opened his eyes, his blue irises shone and he clenched his jaw, pouring the scotch across his arm. Air hissed between his teeth. Then he brought the bottle to his lips and took a hefty sip before handing it back.

  “Thanks,” he said, and then began to pat the broken skin with the towel, blotting both blood and alcohol from the wounds. Hunter nodded to Alessandra. “I need you to start putting the butterfly band-aids across the cuts where I tell you.”

  Alessandra stepped closer, putting his shirt next to him on the floor. Both she and Stan fished through the kit, pulling out a dozen of the small elastic sutures. They carefully patched Hunter’s arm at his direction, and when the worst of the wounds was closed, they wrapped his arm in gauze from his wrist to his elbow.

  “That should do it,” he said as Alessandra taped the end of the gauze with a small band-aid. “Thanks,” he added.

  Stan stood, gathered the remnants of their triage session, and gave him a nod. “I have a guest room downstairs, if you two want to catch some sleep. We can figure out what to do about gas in the morning.”

  She traded a glance with Hunter and gave Stan a nod. If he had meant them harm, he probably would have done something by now. “That would be nice. I think, now that the adrenaline has faded, we both could use a little rest before we deal with anything else.”

  “Much appreciated.” Hunter said and climbed to his feet.

  Stan brought them into a partially finished basement that held a double bed. He waved towards the opposite corner. “There’s a powder room over there where you can clean up. There’re a couple of hand towels for you. The bed is already made. My son’s friends are supposed to be swinging in tomorrow, so...”

  “We hope to be out of your hair before your guests arrive,” Hunter said. “Thank you for your hospitality. It is a rare quality these days.”

  Stan gave them a smile and a nod as his cheeks bloomed at the compliment. He left them to their own devices, closing the door at the top of the stairs. The click of the lock caught her attention.

  “He doesn’t trust us,” she said.

  Hunter lay on his back on the bed. “He’s just being cautious.” He nodded towards the bulkhead doors to their right. “We can still get out, but with the door upstairs locked, we can’t get to his family. He’s compassionate, but not blind to what could happen.”

  Alessandra stood staring at the small bed, and Hunter sprawled out on the mattress. Finally, he lifted his head and met her gaze.

  “I’m not sleeping on the floor,” he said, and she cocked an eyebrow at him. “We both need sleep to heal. I’m not tossing and turning on the floor, so you choose. You can share the bed with me, or you can have the floor.”

  “What if I order you?”

  He slowly sat up. “If you order me? What the fuck? I saved your ass tonight, I deserve a soft mattress. Don’t worry, princess, I’m not in the mood for anything other than sleep, tonight.”

  “Hunter,” she started.

  “Once I get you somewhere safe, I’m not sticking around,” he said, and rolled to his side, giving her a view of his back.

  Alessandra stared at the remaining space on the bed and then the hard industrial carpet on the floor. Instead of immediately dealing with the situation, she stepped to the bathroom to relieve herself and wash up as best she could.

  When she returned, his soft snore filled the room and the tension in his back had relaxed. His injured arm hung over the edge of the bed and the small red stains in the bandage tugged at her. Without any more arguments, she climbed under the covers, facing away from Hunter.

  Heat from his close proximity bathed her with a strange comfort. Alessandra sighed, letting exhaustion finally drag her under.

  Wolf Moon Chapter 4

  Hunter woke and blinked at his surroundings. His shirt was balled up on the floor and his senses were back to their heightened wolf level. Alessandra’s arm draped around his waist and he stared at it for a moment before turning his head.

  The movement made her stir and she pulled her arm with her as she rolled onto her back. The absence of her skin against his almost pulled a groan from his throat. If she didn’t address this attraction, he had to cut her loose for sanity’s sake.

  She made the sweetest noise and stretched. It took everything he had not to pounce, and he took a deep soothing breath to staunch
the fire burning in his soul.

  Alessandra’s eyes popped open and her head snapped in his direction. She nearly jumped from the bed, her gaze jumping from him to their surroundings. He could almost see the click in her mind as the memory of where they were, and why, flooded her brain. Red bloomed in her cheeks and she rolled her shoulder.

  It was amazing what solid rest did for a werewolf. His arm had the faint itch of healing. He knew if he peeled back the gauze, there would be nothing but light scratches, and he ventured to guess Alessandra’s shoulder was healed. He’d have to remove the stitches after they got out of here.

  “You didn’t yield,” she said, and her hands found her waist.

  Just like that, the serene morning turned to shit, and aggravation braised every inch of him. He climbed out of bed and swiped the shirt off the floor, passing by her without a word. When he finished his business and rinsed the sleep from his mouth, he opened the bathroom door.

  Alessandra stood, shifting from foot to foot, and almost ran him down in her bid to get inside the washroom. Hunter straightened out the bed and cocked his head, listening for signs of life upstairs. Nothing stirred.

  He glanced at Alessandra when she stepped out of the bathroom and then headed up the stairs. He tried the door knob and let out a small sigh of relief when it turned easily. The morning sun spilled into the living room and the note sitting on the nearest table caught his attention.

  “They unlocked the door?” Alessandra said from behind him.

  “Yes. And left a note. They went to get us some gas. They said to help ourselves in the kitchen.” He held the note so she could see. “I guess he didn’t want us alone with the kids,” he added with a shrug.

  “You didn’t answer me downstairs,” she said, returning to her scolding.

  “I’m not yours to command, Ally. We had this discussion yesterday before the shooting started.”

  “Bullshit. I’m the alpha here.”

  Her domineering tone set him off and he spun on his heel. “You really want to challenge me right now?” he barked.

  “I want you to snap out of this shit. Now,” she said.

  “In all the years we’ve known each other, have you ever seen me just bow down to you because you told me to?” he asked.

  “You always did what I asked.”

  He laughed. Miss high and mighty needed to be set in her place. “I did what was right for the pack, and in most cases that coincided with your requests. Jesus, do you really think I’d blindly follow anyone? Are you that fucking naive?”

  She glared at him.

  “You don’t know a goddamned thing about me, do you?” he snarled. “I bet you don’t even know my real name?”

  She blinked at him. “Hunter Blaez,” she said meekly, and it burned right in the center of his core.

  “No. It’s actually Jacob. Jacob Randall Blaez. Hunter is a fucking nickname my Dad gave me when I was younger, and it stuck.” He towered over her, glaring down into her upturned face, torn between walking away and taking her in his arms.

  “Well, I bet you don’t know anything about me.” She crossed her arms. Her lips pressed together in that smug way that sent him over the edge.

  “Your name is Alessandra Elizabeth Tate,” he said, with no hesitation and her eyes widened. “Your favorite color is blue, and your favorite food isn’t steak, like it is for most wolves, it’s actually spicy chicken. You talk to your dead mother every night before you go to sleep, asking her to guide you, and you curse your father for leaving you behind and taking the council’s side. You pretend to hate chick flicks, but you secretly love them as much as you do action films. And while you flinch at the thought of a man touching you, deep down, you want someone to make that pain disappear. Do you need me to continue?”

  Her eyes narrowed and her jaw tightened. He stepped closer and she backed into the wall. Hunter planted his hands on either side of her head and leaned forward so his eyes were level with hers.

  “I also know you feel whatever the hell this is between us.”

  The sound of the garage door pulled him away and he stepped into the kitchen, finding two coffee cups along with sugar and creamer waiting next to the pot. He poured both cups and fixed Alessandra’s the way she liked it and left his black, hoping it was strong enough to fuel him for the day.

  He turned and handed the cup to her and she raised an eyebrow.

  “I’m mad, not a dick,” he said softly, as the door to the house opened.

  “I see you found the coffee,” Stan said as three teenagers bounded in the house. Two girls and a boy came in and the girls stopped short at the sight of him.

  “We hear you got attacked by a bear,” the boy said from behind the two stunned girls.

  Hunter pulled his shirt sleeve up to show the bandage. “Yeah and I lived. Can you believe it?” He sent a grin their way and a sideways glance at Alessandra. “Your dad was kind enough to help us out.” He reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet. “How much do I owe you for the gas?”

  Stan waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Hunter’s senses prickled and he exchanged another glance with Alessandra. She was too busy sipping her coffee to catch the nuance of fear from Stan. The kids headed down the hall and Stan watched them go before he turned back to Hunter.

  “So...” Stan said and his eyes darted between Hunter and Alessandra.

  Hunter put down his cup. “We should be going. We’ve taken up too much of your time and kindness already,” he said. “Come on, honey,” he said to Alessandra, and held his hand out.

  Alessandra still clutched her coffee and she stared at his offered hand for a second before she slid into character. She set the cup on the counter and slipped her hand in his. Hunter’s chest loosened as she smiled at Stan.

  “Thank you so much for your hospitality,” she said.

  “Why are your boots in the jeep?” Stan asked before they passed and Hunter stopped.

  He bit his lip and sighed. “Would you really have let us in if I had my boots on?” He waited, meeting Stan’s gaze.

  “It was my idea,” Alessandra added. “We needed help, and Mr. Skeptical here said no one in their right mind would let us in their house that late at night.”

  Hunter glanced at her, impressed at her improv skills.

  Stan huffed. “So, why did you have shoes and she didn’t?”

  Hunter shifted and looked down at the ground before he glanced up. “I was getting a little too close to nature,” he said, and smirked. “And she struck back.”

  Stan pressed his lips together. “Really?” Sarcasm laced the question.

  “I didn’t realize a mamma bear was hibernating in the brush I chose to relieve myself in.” He shifted, wondering if they should have chosen some other animal. It was rare for bears to be out and about at this time of year, and if he had been thinking straight he might have chosen something else, instead of a bear attack.

  Stan reached out and grabbed the rifle leaning on the wall. “You sure it has nothing to do with that home invasion a couple of towns over?” He turned his phone towards them and their pictures graced the screen with a wanted sign underneath.

  Shit. “Yes.” Hunter said as he moved his gaze from his picture to Stan. “My arm wasn’t torn to shreds by a person.”

  Alessandra squeezed his hand. “That was our house,” she said drawing Stan’s attention. “Someone attacked us.”

  “This says there’s an outstanding warrant for your arrest.” He waved his phone at them.

  Hunter pulled the side of his lip between his teeth. The gun wasn’t quite level, but Stan had his fingers near enough to the trigger to keep Hunter from trying to rip the weapon from him.

  Noises behind them caused Alessandra’s hand to clamp down on his.

  “We didn’t come here for trouble,” Hunter said softly. “We needed some rest, and now we’ll get out of your hair.”

  The cock of a gun behind them made him close his eyes.
/>   “You really don’t want to do this,” Hunter said and met Stan’s gaze.

  “Why not?”

  Hunter took a gamble. “If someone you loved was raped and beaten and left for dead, what would you do?”

  The gun was lowered and Stan’s jaw tightened.

  “I took justice into my own hands. That’s why I have an outstanding warrant.”

  Alessandra’s head lowered and her shame and horror swept over him. He gave her hand a squeeze, glad she still held tight.

  “And some son of a bitch bounty hunter shot us out of our home last night.”

  “Your arm?” he asked pointing the barrel of the gun.

  “I honestly don’t know what happened,” he said because he was fresh out of lies. “I didn’t even know I was bleeding until we pulled into your driveway.” He sighed.

  “Please, just let us go,” Alessandra said. “We really don’t want any trouble.”

  “What about the reward, Pa?” the boy behind them said.

  Stan’s gaze bored into Alessandra, and her hand squeezed Hunter’s like she knew the question that was going to come next.

  “Is he telling the truth about what happened to you?”

  Hunter glanced at her and the shame was visible in the heightened color of her cheeks, but the single tear that escaped her right eye said more than the slight nod. It broke his heart, and he took a deep breath, blinking back the wetness in his own eyes.

  Stan seemed to be affected in the same manner. The barrel of the shotgun dropped to the floor. He looked beyond them to the boy. “I know you wanted that reward, son, but I can’t, in good conscience, hold these two.”

  “They could be lying,” he said and both Alessandra and Hunter turned to look at him.

  The boy’s gaze moved from Hunter to Alessandra. The gun slowly lowered. Somehow, he could see the damage reflected in her eyes, and relief washed over Hunter. He let out the breath he wasn’t aware he had been holding.