After the Moon Rises

by Karilyn Bentley

  “I don’t know. He keeps females locked up like dogs. Like he did Landa. Like he is Zenia.” Zane dragged in a breath. “But that magic seems to be similar to the torcs’. He has no problems killing those who get in his way. Usually by blasting them with energy.”

  “So, we have an energy blasting dictator who maintains his reign of terror by non-discretionary killing.”

  “That pretty much sums it up.”

  “Well, a bullet can kill anything. Provided it has a chance.”

  “Fairly certain that’s been tried before. It didn’t work.”

  “We’ll see. Now let me look at that torc.”

  ****

  Margie walked up to Zane, drinking in the anticipation glowing in his amber eyes. This close she could see the shadow of a beard on his cheeks, smell the scent of evergreens that belonged to him alone. Her skin simmered from the heat of his body, dancing shivers of warmth tracing the veins in her limbs. Her body spoke to his in the most ancient of ways, the calling of alpha-to-alpha, mate-to-mate. She wanted to stretch out on the bed and explore every inch of him.

  She needed to find a way to take the torc off his neck.

  Damn responsibilities.

  Reaching out, she tucked her forefinger under the torc and ran her thumb across the twisted metal, a tremor shooting through her body at the touch. The heat of his skin warmed the back of her hand and instead of focusing on the metal, she turned her attention to his eyes. Amber irises watched her from under lowered lids.

  “What do you think?” His breath caressed her cheek and she felt liquid pool between her legs.

  That the bed’s three feet away and the door is shut. “I feel the magical signature, but will need some time to figure out the spell he placed on it.”

  “How long? If Sid’s here, he won’t hesitate to attack you.”

  “I know. I’m not sure how long it will take. Sit over there.” She took a step back and gestured to the bed.

  A smile creaked across his lips. “While I’d love to see you in my bed, I’m not sure now is the time.”

  “Oh, I—,” Margie took a deep breath and tried to will away the blush attempting to turn her face a nice shade of tomato. No such luck. “Just sit. So I can look at the torc.”

  His smile broadened. “Just for you.” Zane walked to the bed and sat, his gaze never leaving hers.

  Ah. Now she liked that picture, hot, shirtless, alpha male on a bed. Good one, Margie. Your pack is under attack and all you can think about is sex. What the hell is wrong with you?

  Throughout her life she’d heard about finding one’s mate and the hormonal shift that occurred, but until she saw Zane, she hadn’t realized how strong the biological urge was. Until last night, she hadn’t even wanted a mate.

  But now, within hours of meeting him, she couldn’t imagine life without him. She wanted him in her bed, in her life, in her body. Especially in her body.

  Talk about an abrupt shift in thought patterns. Teenagers and menopausal women had nothing on her.

  Zane inhaled deeply, his jaw tensing, a blast of heat flowing from him. Great. He must have smelled her arousal. She ventured a gaze down his body. Yep. Definitely smelled her arousal and was reacting accordingly.

  Magic, Margie, focus on the magical signature and how to counteract it.

  Two steps and she stood in front of him, her fingers locking around the torc. Closing her eyes, she pictured the magical signature that twisted through the metal. Threads of red mixed with strands of silver, woven into the metal like braiding on a sweater. Amazing. And daunting.

  For while she had learned magic, she had never seen anything like this. Energy balls, fog, making people do things they wouldn’t normally do, no problem. Imbuing inanimate objects with magical abilities, big problem. Sure, she’d heard of it. But it was a magic she hadn’t bothered to study. What was the point?

  As her mother wisely said, just because you can doesn’t always mean you should.

  So now she needed to learn how to break the spell on Zane’s torc when she had no previous experience using that type of magic. No one did. No one—

  Her eyes popped open. She might not know how to get the damn torc off Zane’s neck, but Landa might. The little wolf had read Sid’s grimoire and freed herself. Landa knew magic too.

  “Zane?”

  “Mmm?” Lust-riddled eyes met her gaze and heat slammed into her.

  “If this torc comes off, what happens to Landa?”

  “If you get this torc off, she won’t have to worry about Sid because he’ll be dead. By my hand.”

  “And if it doesn’t come off?”

  “If you can’t block the magic, then you’ll need to keep me away from the fight. Sid will try to control me if he sees me.”

  “Do we need to tie you up?”

  “Mmm.” He waggled his brows. “Only if you want to, babe.”

  Margie shook her head and sighed with a loud huff. Tease. Her thoughts went careening down a path that had nothing to do with Sid’s impending attack and everything to do with seeing Zane tied to a bed, his body eager for hers. Head back in the game, Margie. “When’s the best time to attack? Provided he’s still outside my property.”

  “Oh, he’s still there. He has Landa in his sights and he won’t let her go. Assume he didn’t come alone either. He’d have left half his enforcers at home and half of them he’ll have with him.”

  “How many?”

  “Twelve total. So that means he’ll have six here. Expect a fight.”

  “Do the enforcers stay with him because they want to or because they have to?”

  “Most don’t want to, but some are like Sid. They’ll follow him willingly.”

  “Maybe we can help the rest of them. If Sid wasn’t already here, I’d call in different alphas to help out. They’d love a fight with a dictator.”

  “Come here.” One minute she was in the middle of a discussion and the next, his hand clasped around her wrist, drawing her to him. His arms encircled her waist as he flipped her onto her back on the bed, his heavy body following, his lips pressing against hers.

  Oh, yeah. She wanted this, wanted him. Her arms wrapped around his back, pressing him closer, while her lips opened for the thrust of his tongue. The kiss was anything but gentle, a claiming of alpha-to-alpha, male-to-female. Each stroke plundered her mouth, her soul, marking her as his.

  One hand ran between her breasts and down her side, searching and finding the hem of her shirt. With a quick flick of his wrist, her shirt moved out of the way and his hand traced across the skin of her stomach. When he pushed aside the cup of her bra and rolled her nipple between his fingers, she let loose a moan.

  Hers. She belonged to him and he to her. Forever.

  Once she accepted him as her mate, once she allowed him in her body, they became each other’s, for in the pack there was no divorce, no separation. Once a were found his or her mate, they stayed together until they died. If things continued on the path they were heading, the two would soon be mated.

  No matter that Sid was running around the vicinity of her pack, or that she really needed to be working on getting that torc off Zane’s neck. Mating hormones prevailed. She wanted him, he obviously wanted her and that was that.

  Or not. Instead of mating with Zane now, she had pack responsibilities. She needed to ensure Sid didn’t kill a single one of her pack members. She needed to be in on the fight. Mating could come later.

  Margie pushed at Zane’s shoulders until he raised his head and looked at her with a puzzled gaze.

  “Sid’s out there now threatening my pack. I should be preparing for a fight, not mating.”

  Zane pressed his forehead against hers as he drew in several deep breaths while smoothing her bra cup over her breast. Despite its covering, the skin of her breast felt cold from the lack of his touch. “You’re right,” came out as a growl, “but I don’t want you to leave.”

  “Come with me to talk to the pack. Provided Allen released you?”
<
br />   Zane raised his head and looked her dead on. “I release myself. He removed the bandage. I have stitches and I heal fast. And Sid’s my kill.”

  Margie pecked him on the lips as he started to stand.

  “Keep that up my little wolf and you won’t be leaving this room anytime soon.”

  “Mmm. I’ll have to remember that.” She took his hand and he pulled her to her feet. “Let’s get you a shirt and shoes and then we’ll meet with my pack. They should know what’s going on.”

  ****

  Zane watched Margie as she strode to a wardrobe and pulled out a scrub top. Her ass was made for his hands to grasp as she rode him, while her slick core gripped his staff. He shook his head, dispelling the fantasy. As much as he hated to admit it, Margie was right. They did not need to be mating while Sid was terrorizing her pack.

  Intellectually he knew that, but the mating hormones rode through his veins like a wave of lust and his higher thought ground to almost a complete halt. Once they neutralized the threat of Sid, he would finish what they started, claiming her as his. But by then he would be free of the torc and could claim her as an alpha, not as the beta enforcer he was now.

  Margie pitched him the scrub top and Zane pulled it over his head. Who would have thought he’d rock the doctor look?

  “Hey, check me out. I’m the good doctor Ben Dover, proctologist.”

  Margie barked a short burst of laughter. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you just said that.”

  “I can’t believe I’m wearing this get-up.”

  “It’s easy to get to since it’s right here in the room. You need shoes, though. Hmm. Here are some socks. We have the standard slippers, but I’m going to have to ask someone to loan you a pair of shoes.”

  He liked watching her think. Or move. Or, well, he liked everything about her so far. And now that he had a taste of her, he wanted more. There would be plenty of time to taste her, to join with her, to be gloved by her core and her soul. Plenty of time once he got the damn torc removed and his alpha powers restored.

  Provided the torc hadn’t permanently suppressed his powers. Zane shuddered. Nope. Not going there. Positive thoughts, Zane.

  After handing him a pair of baby blue hospital slippers, Margie moved to the door. He looked like a candidate for a geriatric commercial in his beige socks and baby blue slippers. On the plus side, the slippers barely made a sound as he walked by Margie’s side.

  Her boots and the soles of Big G’s shit-kickers tapped an angry tune as they marched down the hall.

  “You sure he should be out walking around, alpha?”

  “Yes, Big G, I’m sure. When we get to the top of the stairs, I’ll need you to call the pack together. I need everyone to meet inside, on the basketball court. Outside is dangerous with Sid around. Zane, we have a couple that resides off this property. Would Sid try to take them out, or is he more likely to focus here?”

  “He wouldn’t expect pack members to live anyplace other than in the direct vicinity of the alpha. They should be safe where they are.”

  Margie slammed her palms against the release bar on the door at the top of the stairs and strode through, turning to Big G.

  “Big G. Don’t call in Tom and Vonda. They should be safer where they’re at, but do let them know to be on the lookout for Sid.”

  “How do you know he is telling the truth?” Big G nodded in Zane’s direction. Zane couldn’t blame the giant for doubting him, nor could he stop the snarl from crossing his lips for the insult.

  “He’s my mate.”

  “Well, hell. That means I have to play nice, don’t it?”

  Margie patted him on the shoulder. “Go on now. Make sure everyone on the ranch is gathered in thirty minutes. I’ll be in my office with Zane and Landa.”

  She marched in the opposite direction from the giant. Zane narrowed his gaze on Big G and started to turn when the giant hissed at him.

  “You might be her mate, which one day will make you my alpha, but alpha or no, you fuck with her and I’ll rip your throat out.” His canines flashed as he snarled at Zane before striding off down the hall.

  Zane growled, wanting to run after Big G, wanting to avenge the disrespect. His feet apparently liked that plan too as his baby blues turned in Big G’s direction. But that route meant he was nothing better than Sid. Avenging disrespect, fighting for honor, destroying other lives. All because his ego pride couldn’t handle a bit of truth.

  What was he? A spoiled child or a full-grown male?

  And shouldn’t he be glad to know Margie’s enforcers were willing to go up against her mate if he hurt her? Most definitely.

  Stinging pride was a dangerous thing.

  Instead of talking to Big G about the giant’s attitude, he should be getting busy earning that respect. Earning it. Not demanding it. Demanding it would only cause dissension and dissension within the pack damaged pack dynamics.

  After all, Big G’s job was to protect his alpha, Margie. True loyalty by an enforcer was hard to come by, he should know. If Margie managed through trust and respect to inspire loyalty in her followers, then what right did he have to interfere? Even if it meant sucking down insults and disrespect.

  Oh shit. He was going to have his own pack. This one. Complete with the skinhead giant enforcer his pride wanted a piece of. Why hadn’t he thought of that sooner? How would he run a pack? The only example he had was the dictator from hell. Okay, so he knew enough not to go that route. Other than that, he had abso-fucking-lutely no idea how to do it. Luckily for him, his mate seemed to know what to do. The few wolves he’d met today had shown Margie only loyalty and respect.

  Learning from her was his number two priority, right after removing the damn torc from around his neck. No, wait. Learning from her was number three on his to-do list, number two being a horizontal work-out session on the bed of her choice.

  Oh, yeah. That was some action he wanted to get in on.

  Now.

  Unfortunately, he had the little matter of his neckwear amputation to attend to first.

  His slippers swished on the wood floor as he turned and followed Margie into an office, his thoughts bouncing from one thing to the next. The ping-pong internal conversation came to an abrupt halt as he saw Landa sitting in an overstuffed leather chair, her upper body twisted around so she faced him, her face a ghostly white. Her eyes darted to Margie.

  “You said I didn’t have to go with him.”

  “And I mean that. This is your pack now. But he’s not going back to Sid. He’s my mate and I’m not going to let anyone else have power over him. So we’re going to take his torc off. And you’re going to help me.”

  Chapter Five

  Margie watched Landa’s eyes grow large, saw her throat move as she swallowed. “Me?” Her voice came out on a high-pitched squeak.

  Margie toed the door shut and left Zane standing by it as she walked toward the blonde wolf. “I need your help, Landa. You read Sid’s grimoire. You know more about him and his magic than I do. I know magic, but I don’t know how to remove Zane’s torc. I need you to show me. Are you willing to help me?”

  Landa’s gaze darted to Zane—who wisely stood still next to the closed door—her tongue licking her lips before her eyes closed. She pulled in a deep breath and opened her eyes, her gaze on Margie as she spoke.

  “Are you sure he’s your mate?”

  Well, she hadn’t expected that question. A simple yes or no-way-in-hell, sure. What did Zane being her mate have to do with it?

  “I’m positive. Why?”

  “Fate has a way of things, eh?”

  “Will you help me or not, Landa?”

  “What will he do when the torc is removed?”

  “Kill the bastard.” The growled words came from the door and Margie glanced to Zane. His lips pulled back in a snarl, his canines gleaming. “He took from me too, Landa, and for that I apologize. Because of this torc I was unable to save you when he took you for his. Several of us tried to free you, but
he stopped us before we were able. The punishment didn’t mean we gave up trying. We never gave up trying. He deserves to pay for what he has done. Please. Help me to help you.”

  Muted tweets of birds drifted through the closed window into the vacuum of silence previously known as her office. Not that she blamed Landa for thinking on the matter. Zane had come for the little wolf, after all. If he hadn’t been her mate, she might not have trusted him either. But even though they hadn’t joined bodies, she felt as if she knew his mind, and she knew he wouldn’t betray them no matter what happened.

  Landa continued to stare at Zane as the minutes ticked by. Patience might be a virtue, but whoever wrote that proverb probably wasn’t sitting around with his heart in his throat waiting for an answer.

  Right when Margie opened her mouth to try again with the question, Landa’s gaze turned to her.

  “He speaks the truth. I’ll help you.”

  Margie released a breath of air. Apparently patience really was a virtue. Not to mention it seemed like Landa really did read minds, which was something that bore watching in the future. “Great. Thank you. I have no clue about the torc. I can feel its magic and that’s about it. Did you read the spell in Sid’s grimoire?”

  Landa nodded, her eyes focused on the white knuckles of her hands, her lips moving silently.

  Margie waited for a minute. Nothing, but muted birdcalls. To hell with the proverb. “And?”

  Landa’s gaze flashed to hers and Margie hissed a breath in. Did her eyes turn black when she worked magic? Who knew? It wasn’t like she looked in a mirror while casting spells. Landa’s once blue irises now shone black as obsidian. Part of Margie expected Landa’s head to start spinning around and her voice to warp.

  She was only mildly disappointed when Landa’s head stayed in place as she nodded at Margie. Rising from where she sat, Landa walked over to Zane, Margie trailing behind like a hungry dog on the scent of a rabbit. She saw magic twisting around Landa in ribbons of color, saw it circle around a wide-eyed pale-faced Zane. Damn, but the little wolf could work some magic. How long had she studied Sid’s grimoire? Margie had worked hard learning magic spells, all under her parents’ noses. She learned her magic through many hours of practice, but she had a feeling Landa’s magic was part of her, strengthened by study.