Tangled Moon

by Stocum, Olivia

  “You don’t look like you could fight off a squirrel, much less a bear or a mountain lion. We have those out here, you know.”

  “I know. And you’d be surprised. Besides, I prefer it here. I don’t like crowds, cities close me in, and car exhaust smells bad.”

  “To tell you the truth, I feel the same way.”

  She shook her hair back. “You’re some bigshot detective.”

  “There’s more work for me in the city. It holds no other allure.”

  “Plenty of work for me in the forest.”

  “If you don’t get yourself killed. Where’s your tranquilizer gun?”

  “I left it in the van.”

  “And what about that mad bear of yours?”

  “There are other ways to deal with a bear. Ways that don’t involve guns.”

  Forget the bear. This chick was mad. Oddly, it didn’t repel him. And that had him concerned about the state of his own sanity.

  Her irises were jet black, light reflecting in silver-shot threads off them. Her scent made it hard to think about anything but her. It didn’t matter that he hardly knew her. He had to touch her. He had to. Nick reached out, Danielle growling when his fingers closed around her waist. He urged her to him in a feral need he’d never known before, her slight body forming perfectly to his. And just as he bent to kiss her—Danielle lunged, biting him on the shoulder.

  Nick released her, his hand going to his arm. Blood trickled from between his fingers as pain exploded like an aftereffect through his shoulder and down his back.

  “What did you do?” he gritted.

  Danielle wiped his blood off her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes wide with shock. “Oh, no.”

  Her fingers fumbled over his shirt. She grabbed hold of the fabric and tore it off completely, tossing it aside.

  He looked at it in shreds on the ground. That seemed like overkill, but then he clearly had left the boundaries of normal town long ago.

  He staggered, falling to his knees, his vision blurring.

  “Listen to me.” She dropped down beside him. “You’re sick. Very sick.”

  He’d never been sick a day in his life. “It’s all right, baby. I’ll be fine.”

  “You’re not going to be fine. You’re going to . . .” She took a deep breath. “There is one thing I can do. Sometimes it works.”

  He had no idea what she was talking about, and he didn’t really care. This close, all he wanted was to be in her arms. He twisted a lock of her hair around his finger, tugged until she bent toward him.

  “Stop that,” she said, shaking him off. Danielle pressed her hands to either side of the bite wound. “I really don’t want to do this.”

  She bent, sucking the blood out like a venomous snake bite and spitting it aside. Nick moved to stop her, because, well, she was sucking out his blood for crying out loud—but his head was beginning to clear. After she repeated the procedure four or five times, the pain eased to a dull burn down his arm.

  “Can you walk?” She swiped up his torn shirt, wiping her mouth with it.

  This couldn’t be happening. Things like this didn’t happen. He felt a chill coming on.

  “We need to get you to the cabin,” she said. “I removed enough of the venom that you might not die.”

  Might not. “What?”

  She came to her feet, hand over her mouth. “Excuse me.” Danielle stumbled into the bushes. A moment later he heard her throwing up.

  He heaved himself off the ground and stumbled after her, finding her kneeling in a bed of pine needles, hands braced on her thighs. Nick helped her to her feet.

  “I had to remove venom once before,” she said. “Only I wasn’t the one who did the biting. It was an adolescent. She didn’t know any better. I’ve never bitten anyone, I swear. Well, Lothar once—okay, twice—back when I didn’t know any better.” She seemed pretty adamant about convincing him.

  “What are you?” he asked.

  “I’m not like other women.”

  “I gathered that. What are you?” he repeated.

  She looked at the ground between them. “I can’t tell you.”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “And you’re sick. There are herbs that will help, assuming your immune system is strong enough.” She paused as if listening for something. “Your heart is very strong. That’s good.”

  “Herbs?”

  “There’s never been much research done on this kind of venom. All we have are the old cures.” She ducked under his arm, leading him away.

  Her scent was getting him a little buzzed. He buried his face in her hair instinctively. “Sure, baby. You can take me anywhere.”

  “Walk,” she gritted, urging him on. “Just walk.”

  Chapter Three

  Danielle knew Nick was close to losing consciousness. His arm was heavy on her shoulder and chills coursed through his body. She stumbled over a rock and he fell after her, his masculine weight sprawled, smothering her in damp skin and shoving her cheek into the ground.

  She fought for control over her emotions but couldn’t gain a foothold. Feeling helpless and utterly human, hot tears filled her eyes. In wolf form she had the strength to carry him, but no hands to lift him onto her back. As a woman, she was apparently too weak to do anything but cry about it.

  Try harder, Danielle. She steeled her nerves. With a groan, she rolled Nick off of her. Her goal today had been to keep him safe, but she had failed to protect him from one monster in particular. Herself.

  She brushed his dark brown hair off his forehead, took a moment to bring the sound of his heart back into her senses. It was strong and regular. Good.

  Unlike werewolf mythology, Nick would not morph now that she’d bitten him. One had to be born into this. What it would do was make him distasteful to vampires. Not that they wouldn’t kill him anyway, just for being associated with her.

  He groaned, his head rolling to one side. His eyes opened to slits and he looked at her, gaze unfocused. She smoothed her fingers over his face, taking in the rough texture of the stubble on his jaw.

  “I’m so sorry.” She swallowed thickly and backed away, gaze flicking over his bare torso, devastated that she might still cause the death of such a beautiful man.

  She couldn’t do this alone. Danielle cringed as she realized it was time to shoulder her shame and call in Lothar.

  Coming to her feet, she ducked behind a tree and stripped out of her clothes, then shifted into a wolf. She howled a warning siren.

  Danielle padded back and guarded Nick as she waited, listening until she knew Lothar was on his way. Once she heard him coming, she dropped down and belly crawled to Nick’s shivering body, nudging her head against his arm until his fingers came to life in her brown fur.

  She stayed there with him until Lothar arrived, then crouched submissively before the powerful black wolf. Like this, she was subject to her canine instincts. She felt overwhelming guilt course through her. She shouldn’t have bitten Nick. She shouldn’t have gone out after him without her alpha’s approval either.

  Lothar sniffed the air around Nick. His hackles lifted and his lips curled back. Danielle, fighting the impulse to stay on the ground and let Lothar do whatever he pleased, bounded to her feet, planting herself defensively between them. She couldn’t explain why, but it was intrinsic that she protect Nick.

  Even in the shade beneath the trees, Lothar’s white teeth glistened with venom. One more bite would kill Nick. They’d both taken vows to protect human life. Lothar would never attack a man. Something more powerful was governing them.

  Lothar, hesitating, finally backed down. He didn’t duck his head. She knew he would never lower himself like that. He simply gave her space to do what she needed.

  Turning to Nick, she nudged him until his fingers wove into her fur. Lothar came to his other side and did the same. Together, they dragged him to the cabin. Danielle loped inside her room and shifted back into a woman. She pulled on jeans and a sweater. Lothar, fas
ter than her, was already dressed and hauling Nick onto his bed by the time Danielle had emerged from her room.

  “What is this you do?” Lothar said. His eyes were black, his voice a low growl. Another bad day, she knew.

  “What does it look like I did?”

  “You should have stayed away.”

  “There’s no time for this.”

  She had plenty of questions for Lothar too. She knew he was hiding something from her, something to do with Nick. But that would have to wait. Danielle stormed across his room, grabbing the black med bag off a battered dresser. She plopped it down on the floor next to Nick. The narrow mattress wasn’t big enough for his bulk. His limbs were sprawling over the edges.

  “I’ve only done this once,” she said. “It was years ago. You have to help me.”

  It took Lothar a moment, then he nodded. “Use tinctures,” he said, sounding fully human now. He left the room, returning with a cup and a bottle of water. “I should have watched you more closely.” He left them on the nightstand.

  That was him apologizing. As her alpha, he didn’t have to do that. Ever.

  “I shouldn’t have left without letting you know,” she said. “You’re going to tell me everything, right? After you help me save his life.”

  “Of course, Darling.” He handed her a glass vial. “Thirty drops.”

  She counted out drops of the concentrated herb into the cup.

  “You stay and watch him. I gather leeches,” he said.

  Danielle cringed.

  “They are a time honored method of cleansing blood. Unless you rather do it?” He lifted his brows.

  “Ah . . . should be plenty of them in the creek. You’ll have no problem finding some.” She swallowed, her mouth tangy from Nick’s blood. “I removed as much of the venom as I could.”

  “Mortal is healthy. Leeches should save him.” Lothar handed her another vial. She took a look at the label. Horehound. Or maybe whore-hound would be more accurate. She felt like one at the moment. Her face warmed as she recalled the way she’d felt right before biting Nick.

  Danielle had chosen to maintain a respectful distance from the finer details of the mating practices of her species, but while in Lithuania, she’d heard talk of werewolves who’d damaged the mortals they’d had relations with. Or tried to have relations with. Such things were illegal for good reason. They bedded down only with their own kind. Anything else was forbidden. Permanent relationships only occurred between fertile females and their genetic matches, to avoid Territorial Aggression. Mating was complicated enough for her kind, so she’d learned what was required of her by the law, and butted out of the rest.

  “Add enough water to dilute taste,” Lothar told her. “I almost forgot. . .” He left the room.

  She added a little water, then eyed the golden liquid in the glass and wondered if it was enough. Her gaze shifted to Nick’s unconscious body. How was she supposed to get him to take it? The generator kicked on, humming just outside the window, then the microwave ran for about ten seconds and beeped. Lothar returned with liquefied honey.

  “Honey?”

  “Trust me.” He poured it into the glass, making the mixture syrupy.

  Danielle swirled it around. “How exactly do I get him to take it?”

  “Pinch nose until open mouth. I get leeches.”

  “Great . . . Hey, you’re leaving already? A little help here.”

  “I help. I get leeches.” She could tell he was struggling. His English was getting worse by the moment. She knew it wouldn’t be long before he gave in and used Lithuanian.

  “You could hold his head or something.” She followed Lothar into the other room like a lost lamb.

  He turned to face her suddenly. “You disobeyed,” he breathed. In Lithuanian.

  Yup, there it was.

  “I know,” she continued in English, because her Lithuanian was worse than his English. “You never technically said I had to stay away from . . .” She let it go at his look. “It was assumed, I know.”

  He stepped closer. She had to arch her neck to look him in the face. “Danielle,” he said, then cut it short and turned away.

  Danielle, not Darling. He only called her Danielle when they were at odds.

  She shot him an annoyed look, but he wasn’t watching. He rattled around in a cupboard then pulled out a mason jar and looped twine around the top. He would hang it from his neck before shifting into a wolf.

  “Sooner we have leeches, better,” he said.

  She watched Lothar leave, the front door hanging open. It had gotten cold out. Stifling a nervous whimper, Danielle closed it and turned back into the bedroom. Nick wasn’t shivering anymore. He was sweating. He would go from hot to cold and back again until his immune system gained victory over the venom.

  Assuming it gained victory.

  Survival of the fittest. It was the way of her kind.

  She tucked her hand under the back of Nick’s head and lifted. It was heavy, like the rest of him. Danielle brought the cup to his lips but he was nonresponsive. Rather than waste the herbs by dribbling them down his chin, she took Lothar’s advice. She pinched nose until open mouth.

  Nick gulped for air. She poured the entire contents between his lips. He sputtered and she cupped her hand over his face until he had no choice but to swallow it down.

  Danielle hastily set the cup aside.

  Well, that was unpleasant.

  She stared at him for a moment, then decided he might be more comfortable without his boots and gun. She loosened the laces on his hiking boots. Grabbing one, she pulled, and pulled.

  Danielle growled, yanking until it finally slid off, flinging her halfway across the room with it. She dropped the boot to the floor.

  “Human weakness. Stupid human female weakness.”

  Danielle yanked his other boot off, bracing her thigh muscles so it wouldn’t send her flying. She tossed the second boot at the wall. After a clarifying breath, she tucked her fingers under his hips, finding the handle of his pistol. She worked it free and set it on the dresser.

  Another task accomplished, and all by herself no less.

  Danielle frowned at Nick sprawled over the bed. She’d read a book once where the heroine stripped down the hero and climbed in bed with him. By morning, his fever had broken, and she was applauded for her innovation.

  Sounded good to her.

  His shirt was gone already, so that just left his pants and whatever was under those jeans. Hopefully there were some boxers, because if not, well, she just did not want to go there. A werewolf didn’t get to be chronologically thirty-two years old and still a virgin without either being a total prude, or completely intimidated by the male anatomy.

  Um . . . yeah.

  How was she supposed to get his jeans off anyway? She could shift into a wolf and tear them off with her teeth. But then she’d risk nipping him. No. That was a bad idea.

  Danielle stood there with her cheeks stinging. She realized her hands were hiding behind her back.

  “Get a grip. It’s just a man.”

  She pulled out one hand, then the other. Biting her lower lip, she undid his jeans. Danielle sighed in relief when she saw blue boxers.

  “Really, it’s not like you’ve never seen a man before,” she muttered to herself.

  She’d never been naked in front of Lothar. He was nothing if not respectful of her privacy, and had not changed in front of her either. But other werewolves had no such convictions. She’d been teased by them for being too conservative. And maybe she was. Maybe it was her Arrested Development, or perhaps it was personal, but no amount of teasing changed her policies. Her soft human body was not on display for anyone.

  At least not without her express permission.

  She just hadn’t given it yet.

  No, that wasn’t true. There had been times with Lothar when she’d been really close. But there was that whole issue with his uncle, and the fact that he was out of her league. Oh, and she was shy when it c
ame to asking him to meet those particular needs for her . . .

  She focused back on the present and set to work on getting Nick’s jeans off. By the time she’d managed it, she was decidedly hot and cross. She was tempted to tear them up, then settled for tossing his pants at the wall instead. They landed next to his boots.

  Her gaze flicked over Nick’s muscled body as she covered him with a blanket. He was a big boy, that was for sure.

  “So far, so good,” she said, backing away.

  She wondered what else she should do. He would dehydrate, right? Broth, maybe? She ground her teeth, wishing Lothar was feeling more helpful. Wiping her eyes and refusing to give in to human emotions, she stumbled to the main part of the cabin in search of something good for mortals.

  There was a fresh carton of chicken broth in a door-less cupboard. Good thing her partner had a taste for human food. She took a cast iron pot left over from the previous owners and hauled it to the wood stove. There was kindling already stacked against the wall and she found a book of matches.

  Once she had the fire going, she emptied the broth into the pot. For good measure, she added minced garlic. She remembered hearing on the radio that garlic was good for the human immune system.

  Danielle went back to check on Nick and found him shivering. His head had rolled to one side, his hair sticking to his face. To say she was feeling useless would be an understatement. She wasn’t used to this. As a child, her friends had come down with all sorts of contagions. Not her. It was unusual, yes, but it hadn’t caused any problems. Her adoptive father had told everyone she’d never caught colds because of his careful regulation of her meals and sleep patterns. For years, he’d actually believed it too.

  With the broth busy warming itself on the stove, she had no more excuses. This was all her fault and she had to do whatever she could to see him through. If that included cuddling, then so be it. Danielle peeled back the blanket and carefully crawled in beside Nick. There wasn’t much room. She had to tuck herself closely.

  His arm curled immediately around her waist, trapping her against him. She pursed her lips. He was obviously accustomed to having a female next to him. Danielle wiggled herself into a more comfortable position. She closed her eyes and ran through relaxation exercises in her head.