Diamond Moon (Black Hills Wolves Book 12)

by Celia Breslin

  The girl’s gaze slid past Ross to the doorway. Her brother Bobby strolled in armed with grocery bags, placing them on the counter. “Hey, Mom. Hiya, Ross.”

  His gray eyes targeted his sister, scowling at her half-eaten cookie. “Thanks for not helping with the bags, squirt.” His stare shifted to Darci. Interest—of the sexual kind—heated the teen’s eyes, his nostrils flaring wide as he openly scented her. “You smell…different.” He stepped closer, openly ogling her chest.

  Ross clenched his teeth. It would be bad form to bat the randy teenager upside his head. He straightened to his full height and pulled Darci against his side staking his claim. To his great relief, she stayed there.

  Mrs. Carson smacked her son’s shoulder. “Eyes up, Robert J. Carson, and apologize right this instant.” To Ross and Darci, she added, “I’m so sorry. My children usually have better manners.”

  Bobby turned a dark shade of red from his neck to forehead. He glanced at his mom and Ross then slouched against the counter, hands shoved into his jean pockets. “Sorry, Miss.”

  “Darci. My name is Darci.” His little mate held out her hand.

  “Bobby.” Still beet red, the boy gripped it for a second then dropped it as if it were on fire. Fine with Ross. Now he wouldn’t eviscerate the boy.

  His sister, oblivious to the subtext of teenage hormones, picked up a cookie and threw it at her brother. “Cookie time.”

  Bobby caught the flying morsel and stuffed it in his mouth. Mrs. Carson huffed in annoyance. “What am I going to do with you kids?”

  “Someone giving you grief, Mother?” Mr. Carson’s voice boomed as he entered the kitchen.

  Darci gasped. Not surprising. Pushing seven feet and built like a lumberjack, Mr. Carson gave new meaning to the word robust. He was also one of the nicest men Ross had ever met.

  Mr. Carson’s kind, steel-gray eyes fixed on Darci. “What have we here?”

  Ross opened his mouth to make the introductions, but his woman beat him to it. “I’m Darci. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Carson.”

  Molly bounded over and yanked on her father’s arm. “She’s Ross’s girlfriend!”

  Mr. Carson scooped up his daughter. “Is she now?”

  Molly’s head bobbed up and down. “Yup. And she made white-chocolate-chip cookies with macadamias!”

  “She’s more than that,” someone snarled from behind them.

  Tension thickened the air, and the hairs on Ross’s nape rose in warning. He pivoted and put himself between his mate and the unknown man hovering in the entry.

  The man leveled an aggressive stare at Darci. “She’s human.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Dread settled in Darci’s stomach at the anger and disgust on the man’s face. This is exactly what she’d worried about when she’d argued with Ross at his house. Pack members would hate her based solely on genetics. Most of the other men she’d met earlier were friendly enough, but if there were more like this one? She wanted out.

  “Orson, I’ll have none of your misguided attitude in my home,” Mrs. Carson admonished him as if he were a five-year-old. She cast a meaningful look at her husband and ushered her kids from the room.

  Darci wished she could go with them, but Ross clamped her against his side. She appreciated his protective gesture but wished it wasn’t necessary.

  Mr. Carson focused on the angry man. “Orson, this is Ross Luparell, the man who has kindly offered to build your home. And the woman you just insulted is Darci, his girlfriend.” He headed to a cabinet and pulled out two coffee mugs. “Now, get your ass over here and apologize like the honorable man I know you are.”

  Orson didn’t budge. His snarl sent chills scurrying over Darci’s skin. She cleared her throat. “I’ll just leave you alone to discuss your business.”

  “Nothing to discuss,” Ross growled. “Let’s go.”

  Mr. Carson rubbed his jaw. “Aw hell, Ross, don’t let the old coot run you off.”

  Ross’s mouth formed a thin, tense line. He clasped Darci’s elbow and led her to the mudroom and door on the other side of the kitchen.

  “See you later, Carson.” Ross spoke to the nice homeowner, but his gaze never strayed from Mister Crazy.

  The angry madman, Orson, strode farther into the room. “I know you.” The venom in his stare made her breath catch in her throat.

  Ross raised a hand. “That’s close enough.”

  Darci looked up at Ross. She didn’t want the men to come to blows, but judging by Ross’s rigid posture, the muscle ticking in his jaw, and the hostility rolling off him in waves, they headed there unless she took action.

  She swallowed the lump of fear in her throat and gave scary Orson good eye contact. “Impossible, sir. I’m new in town. This is my first time here.” There, polite. And her voice only shook a little bit.

  Orson sneered. “Think you can hide who you are? That we won’t see?” He rounded the island and stalked past the kitchen table.

  Mr. Carson moved to intercept. “Orson, stop.”

  Ross pushed Darci behind him. “Back off. Last warning.”

  Darci plastered herself against Ross, put her hands on either side of his waist, and peeked around his side.

  Orson halted two small steps away from them, his chest heaving, his fists banging against his legs. “You can’t fool me. I know who you are. No one has your eyes. No one but D.”

  “Fuck,” Ross cursed.

  Mr. Carson halted by Orson then swiveled to stare hard at her. One blink, two. His eyes widened in recognition. “Holy shit on a pine tree. You’re Diamond’s daughter.” Half question, half statement.

  Without another word, Ross hustled her through the mudroom, out the door, across the deck, and down a set of stairs leading into the backyard. The older men followed, the fast thud of their boots on the hardwood deck matching the pounding of Darci’s heartbeat in her ears.

  Orson’s hate-filled voice boomed in the air behind them. “Infiltrator. Deserter. Murderer.”

  The insane man’s words struck Darci with fear and confusion, while Ross cursed again and froze at the foot of the stairs, his grip on her arm painfully tight. Around them, conversation and construction halted. Eerie silence fell over the area broken only by her panicked panting. She should’ve left Los Lobos the moment Ross had told her about Magnum and her father. Now it was too late.

  She surveyed the yard, cataloguing the mundane as if somehow her action might break her free of this insanity. Three men nearest them planting a baby tree. Four men erecting a gazebo farther away. Two more standing in a hole shaped like a small pool. Next to the hole, several containers of succulents, grassy green plants, and pink, yellow, and orange flowers. Overhead, cottony clouds speckled the bright blue sky. Beyond the yard, the mountains loomed large, dotted with pine.

  Nope. Didn’t help destroy the surreal moment. There was still a madman glaring at her.

  Orson’s voice rang out. “She’s D’s daughter. Diamond’s human spawn.” Spittle left the man’s mouth as he lunged at them from above.

  Mr. Carson caught Orson, clamping his substantial arms around the thinner man, restraining him. Ross shoved a hand into his jeans and pulled out a set of keys, pushing them into her palm, his furious gaze locked on Orson. “Run. Get in my truck. Go to Gee.”

  Dread churned her gut. What was he saying? Her gaze bounced around the yard as the workers closed in on them. She estimated a fifty-fifty split between those who wanted to help and support Ross and those who stared at her—and by association, him—with something akin to horror and disgust.

  The words flew from her mouth. “I’m not leaving you.” Not here, not surrounded by Werewolves, half of whom looked as if they wanted to throw both Ross and Darci in the hole in the ground and fill it full of dirt. By not leaving earlier when she’d had the chance, she’d put him in this terrible position. She wouldn’t desert him now.

  Ross gave her wild, worried eyes then returned to glaring and growling at his workers. “Damn it, Darci. Th
is isn’t a joke.” He backed the two of them toward the path alongside the house. The men followed.

  “I know. I’m not leaving you.” She started to dig her phone from her rear pocket. “I’m calling the cops.”

  Ross shook his head and moved them along the path. “Don’t bother. It won’t help.”

  Darci stumbled, and Ross firmed his hold on her arm. Behind them, two men shifted into brown wolves. Teeth bared, they trotted closer. Ross picked up his pace, rounding the house only to find more men in the front yard, forming a half circle before them. Blocking access to Ross’s truck and potential freedom.

  They were trapped. “I’m so sorry, Ross.” Darci’s voice broke on a sob.

  Ross rounded on her and gripped her shoulders, putting his face close to hers. “This is not your fault. I won’t let them touch you, Moonbeam.”

  His use of the pet name he’d given her pulled another sob from her throat. “I don’t want you to die. I didn’t want any of this. I just wanted help. I just wanted….” You.

  She scanned the assembled men and wolves then looked up at the house. Mrs. Carson gazed out a second-story window, hugging Molly to her, the young girl’s face pressed into her shoulder. So the sweet little girl won’t see my death by rabid, angry Werewolves.

  Anger snapped Darci out of her panic. Screw this. She wouldn’t go down without a fight. She’d spent a lifetime battling her Wolf nature, resisting the shift. Almost dying. Hell if she’d give up without striking back. But first, she needed a better weapon than her bare hands.

  She grabbed Ross’s face between her palms and closed the gap between their faces, kissing him hard. “I’m so sorry about earlier. I panicked and said stupid shit. I didn’t mean it. What we did, it meant something. It did. I’m sorry I shut you out.” She kissed him again. “I could fall in love with you. If we had more time.”

  “Darci,” Ross rasped. He clutched her nape, forehead pressed against hers. “Little mate.”

  He kissed her, slow and gentle, as if they had all the time in the world. For a moment, the hostile world around them receded and there was solely the press of his warm lips, the slide of his tongue over hers, the clenching of her core, and the promise of more in his touch. If they had more time.

  “You’re not going anywhere. And no one is dying today. I’ll fix this,” he growled against her lips.

  She pulled away. “We’ll fix it.”

  They both looked at the surrounding men and wolves. Just a few had shifted. As she glared at the brown Wolves, a smaller tan one joined them. It growled and lunged. Ross shifted to Wolf and blocked her while another Wolf, a huge and familiar gray one, sideswiped the tan Wolf, taking it to the ground, powerful jaws clamped on its neck. The tan one yelped and rolled, exposing its belly.

  Ross shifted, his human body trembling with rage. He jerked his head at the helpful gray Wolf. “The gray one is Carson.”

  Darci glanced around. “Where’s Orson?”

  Ross pointed at the tan Wolf subjugating itself on the ground. “That would be the coward on his back.”

  She surveyed the somber men still in human form. “Why haven’t they all shifted?” What were they waiting for?

  “They can’t. Unlike, you, me, Carson, and them—he pointed at Orson and the brown wolves—the others need the full moon.”

  Carson let out a huffing sound, seeming to confirm Ross’s explanation. Darci stared hard at Carson in his massive Wolf form then gasped. She did know the Wolf and not because she’d just met the man in the kitchen. He was the friendly Wolf who’d escorted her into town. Hope coalesced in her heart. She did have friends here. Supporters. She and Ross weren’t alone in this. And yet most of the men—hostile or supportive—seemed to be waiting for…something. For her?

  The meaning of Ross’s words—unlike you, me, and Carson—sunk in as Gee’s returned to the forefront of her mind. Diamond was Infiltrator. Stop fighting who you are. Could she shift at will? She’d never tried. She hadn’t wanted to be a Wolf, had just wanted the shift to stop forever. But maybe shifting wasn’t the problem after all. Maybe she was.

  She’d been fighting the wrong battle all along. “I need to shift.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Shift? His little mate had lost her mind. But, as Ross gazed down at her, only determination and grit gleamed in her green eyes. She was ready to fight her way out of this fucked-up situation. She was ready to die. For him.

  “Ross, help me shift.”

  He shook his head and growled at his crew, meeting each man or Wolf’s stare one by one. He couldn’t believe this was happening. How had things spun out of control so fast? He’d trusted these men. Worked alongside them. Helped their families. But although the pack was rebuilding and reshaping itself into something better, this proved it was still wounded and wild. Old wounds wouldn’t heal overnight. He should’ve taken more precautions with his mate.

  “Ross. Please. I can do this. I have to do this.”

  Fuck. He yanked her close, squeezing her so hard she banged his shoulder to get him to soften his hold. “Your dad was an Infiltrator, Moonbeam. This means you should be able to shift the way I do. No pain, no suffering, and whenever the hell you want. Easy.”

  She trembled in his arms. “Yeah, kinda just had the revelation myself. But I’m scared.”

  He gave her a squeeze and released her. “Don’t be. Together we can do anything.”

  The men scattered, forming two distinct lines, their intentions clear. One side helpful, one side not. Their collective aggression sizzled the air.

  He glared at them. “She’s not her father. And it shouldn’t fucking matter, either way.”

  He escorted Darci closer to Carson, still in Wolf form, and the half-dozen men who’d made their support known. He faced off with the larger of the brown wolves—Michael, his foreman for fuck’s sake—and the line of men backing up his so-fired-after-this foreman. “But what does matter, you small-minded assholes? She’s my mate. Touch her and die.”

  He shifted. Michael attacked. He met his foreman head on as the men around them burst into action in a full-on brawl. Dominant to the core, he made short work of cowing his fucking foreman. The man shifted to human, raising his hands and backing away. Darci screamed and splintered Ross’s focus. He pivoted to the sound. One of Michael’s supporters lunged. Ross sidestepped and landed a KO punch to the man’s jaw, laying him out flat.

  The scent of fresh blood had him whipping around in his mate’s direction. An angry roar rushed from his lungs at the sight of her on all fours, spine arched, ribs poking out from her torso under her T-shirt stained red from her blood. Fingers contorted, broken and bloodied. Her neck twisted in an impossible angle. Black fur appeared and disappeared on her writhing legs, her feet curled, resembling the letter c. Horror raised the hairs on his arms. Holy fucking hell. He’d never seen anything like this. He started to run to her but some asshole grabbed him from behind. He jerked his head backward, smashing the nose of his assailant. The man released him. He rounded on the man and—

  A gunshot rang out, echoing off the mountains. The fighting stopped. Ross checked his next blow and looked up at the house. Mrs. Carson stood on her porch, rifle pointed into the air, her face a mask of fury.

  “You boys should be ashamed of yourselves. Now you help the poor girl before I put a hole in every single one of you.” She scanned the men until her gaze landed on Ross. Her fierce expression softened. “I’ve called the healer.” She stomped into the house and slammed the door.

  He pushed through his men and rushed to Darci’s side, landing hard on his knees next to her. “Darci, baby, can you hear me?” Jesus, Mary, and Joseph please hear me. “Don’t fight it, Moonbeam. Let it happen.”

  “T-t-t-trying,” she rasped through gritted teeth. She collapsed on her side and looked up at him. Bloody tears leaked from her eyes, streaking her cheeks.

  Orson and Carson appeared next to Ross. The two men looked down at Darci, Carson’s expression one of fatherly conc
ern. Remorse and guilt furrowed Orson’s face. Orson, the mother fuckin’ cause of Ross’s new personal hell, the cause of all Darci’s pain. Ross shot to his feet, hands fisting the bastard’s shirt. “Don’t think I won’t kill you where you stand.”

  Orson’s mouth opened and closed, his gaze on Darci. She vomited blood. Orson sagged in his grip. “Dear God, I didn’t know. I’m sorry. So sorry.”

  “Save it for someone who cares.” Ross shoved him. The man stumbled and fell on his ass.

  “Ross.” Shit, her voice sounded so weak.

  “I’m here, baby.” He wiped the blood from her face, his fingers trembling, his goddamn heart ready to burst in agony. Don’t you fucking die on me, mate of mine.

  Fangs formed in her mouth. Her body spasmed and curled in on itself. He almost yanked her into his arms, but fear of adding to her pain had him stabbing his hands through his hair instead. Helpless. Where was the fucking healer?

  Carson clasped Ross’s shoulder. “She really your mate, son?”

  “Yeah.” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed dirt.

  “Then you can probably help her. Trust your instincts, son. Trust in your Wolf.”

  Ross had said as much to Darci not so long ago. He had no fucking clue what his instincts would have him do, but he didn’t waste another second. He shifted. Carson followed suit then lifted his head and howled. Orson also shifted, howling along with him, their primal song reverberating into the night.

  The pack responded. From the mountains, the town below, and throughout the countryside, other Wolves joined the chorus.

  Darci whimpered. He stood over her, caging her with his legs, and nuzzled her neck. She seemed to be listening to, even responding to the howls from the pack. Her spasms had lessened, and her body had ceased its contorting and cracking under the force of her attempted shift. Instead, she trembled and moaned as if in response to the pack’s song.

  Every cell in his Wolf body raged at him to fix her, claim her. Instinct drove him to latch onto her shoulder, so small and fragile.