by Casey Lane
Besides, suicide may suit more ordinary, common witches, but it would not be a very “Titus” thing to do. A general does not go down before he has to, no matter how many battles he loses. I was no craven heart, no defector. When death finally comes, he will find me on my feet, steady-eyed, hard as iron to the last.
After all, I was no longer a nameless slave. Not a foolish young man in love. Not even an older man, stricken dumb by grief. No, I am, now and forever, Titus: cold and alone. Bearing the weight of centuries and the countless deaths under my feet, as only a vampire can. Like the soulless piece of marble whose form my body takes. Whether or not this is ideal is irrelevant. It is what must be. It is the only way death can never conquer me again.
What happens to me does not define me. True men make the world. They do not let the world remake them. I was a fire witch, and by Fate, and I still have some fire left in me. Hell, I was made of fire. I was forged from fire. From the ashes of Pompeii.
I was a being even the gods couldn’t destroy.
And there you have it, dear reader. I’ve finally gotten my story down on paper. I do hope you’re satisfied, and that you didn’t find the entire process as dull and tedious as I did.
Oh! How absurd of me. There is one crucial part I left out. I shall rectify it now. Here:
It begins, oddly enough, with a man walking into a bar.
That man was me.
I wasn’t there for a drink, obviously. At least, not the kind that came in a glass, or a bottle. It was just another tiresome evening on the outskirts of Londinium—sorry, London—in search of easy prey. Or it was, until I saw her.
With dark curls and keen brown eyes, she appeared not unlike Sabine. True, she looked about ten years younger than Sabine had been when I first met her. But just as with my first love, I felt her magic immediately. It was not as strong, yet not exactly subtle either.
I remember, then, feeling a strange lightness in my chest, a flutter of . . . it wasn’t happiness, exactly. I want to say potential. Possibility. Not hope, because the word is a sentimental mess. I couldn’t decide if her resemblance to Sabine was a good thing, or a bad thing. But it seemed, for a moment, that I might be wrong. About my story. About how it ends.
Of course, by now, the reader likely knows that I was wrong, which is not something I often admit. I married that woman. And even though it was heretofore impossible, through magic, she bore me a son. Could there be a future—beyond the dark ravishes of time—that even gods and monsters could not see?
Sigh. “What’s past is prologue,” as a mortal bard once said. I have nearly been burned to death—and Pompeii was only the first time. The sun has been all but blotted out from my existence. And yet, my vision is more precise than ever. As if certain truths have been distilled. Given better illumination. Sometimes, I still hear Sabine’s voice whispering to me:
Fire is a very powerful thing. So is light.
* * *
THE END
See how the Mage Tales began in Book I: The Age of Mages!
http://ilanawaters.com/
Newsletter
http://ilanawaters.com/get-free-books/get-a-free-book/
About the Author
Ilana Waters writes mostly fantasy for adults, young adults, and middle graders. She once pet-sat an electric eel and crashed her car into a house, though not on the same day. Before she became a writer, she was reprimanded and/or fired for reading in every job she ever held.
She considers this her greatest accomplishment to date.
Read more from Ilana Waters:
Ilanawaters.com
Blood Moon
J.E. Taylor
JET-Fueled Fiction
* * *
Blood Moon © October 2016 J.E. Taylor
* * *
All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
* * *
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
* * *
For additional information contact:
www.JETaylor75.com
* * *
Cover Art by Cora Graphics
* * *
Editing by: Dragonfly Editing
* * *
Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.
Blood Moon
Alessandra and Hunter have a price on their heads. Can they escape their fate, or will the sins of the past lead them to their death?
In the eyes of the werewolf council, Alessandra Tate and Hunter Blaez committed the ultimate sin. Humans were killed at the hands of a werewolf, and the price for taking a human life is death.
After being on the run for three months, Alessandra’s nightmares are still plagued with the acts of that evening. Never again will she trust a man to get close enough to betray her, even Hunter Blaez, her beta wolf and protector.
Hunter has other ideas. He has been in love with Alessandra for years, but all she ever saw was her second in command. Even rescuing her from certain death and following her into damnation wasn’t enough for her to see him as a man.
When the council catches Hunter, Alessandra must choose between surviving without him, or risking her life to save the only man she truly loves.
Chapter One
Alessandra Tate stood on the balcony of the old cabin, staring out into the woods with a cup of hot chocolate in her hands. Her thoughts kept drifting to the night she was attacked. As much as she wished she could shut the memories down, they kept crawling to the surface. She shivered. Hands came to rest on her shoulders, and she jumped, nearly spilling the scalding liquid down the front of her.
“How are you doing?” Hunter’s deep baritone whispered.
His concern grated on her nerves. “Fine,” she said, even though she was anything but. She had crossed the line, and was now a fugitive. Killing a human for any reason was taboo.
The tribal community didn’t care that Jeremy and his fraternity brothers had beaten and raped her. They didn’t care the bastard had injected her with belladonna and left her for dead.
All they cared about was that she had spilled human blood.
“Bull,” he said.
She turned. Hunter’s sharp blue eyes held her gaze. He was as handsome a man as he was a wolf, but she had always seen him as her right hand, her beta in charge of the pack when she wasn’t around. She had alpha blood running through her veins. Hunter Blaez didn’t.
Besides, he was six years older, and had always viewed her like a little sister who needed to be protected. The night she was attacked, he crossed the line with her, tearing into those frat boys with as much feral fury as she had, while the rest of the pack looked on in horror.
The only reason she was alive today was because of the human hearts she’d ingested. That was the only thing that reversed the deadly affects of the belladonna.
“Why did you do it?” she asked, searching his eyes.
His lips twitched and he glanced out at the woods, scanning the trees as if the answers she was looking for were carved into the bark. When his gaze returned, he sighed and gave her a single shoulder shrug.
Hunter wasn’t much for small talk, and Alessandra had been thankful of that the days following the massacre, but that was three months ago. Now, his quiet demeanor just made her want to scream and shake him. She needed more than silence and sullen glances.
It was one of the reasons she had
fled her home to go to college. She needed active participation in conversations, not blind followers. She needed someone who would debate issues with her. She needed someone who challenged her.
“Hunter, talk to me,” she said, using the alpha tone he had to obey.
He snarled and turned away. “I hate it when you do that.”
“Why did you spill their blood when you didn’t have to?”
“Because what they did to you pissed me off.” He glanced over his shoulder at her, with eyes full of hellfire. “Shits like that don’t deserve to live.” He ran his hand through his dark hair. Hunter’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say more, but then his lips clamped together.
Alessandra set the hot chocolate on the table and crossed her arms. “And?”
He stalked to where she stood, towering over her. “If you don’t know by now, you’re as blind as you are naive.” He spun and disappeared into the house, leaving her staring after him.
She charged in after him. “What the hell does that mean?”
He stopped halfway up the stairwell. “Ally...”
“No, Hunter. I need to know. I need to know why the hell you would damn yourself to a life on the run?”
“I didn’t want you going through this alone. Besides, your innocence wasn’t theirs to take.”
She didn’t disagree, but there was something deeper in his gaze, more personal. He trudged up the stairs without saying more.
“Hunter?”
He stopped but didn’t turn.
Alessandra wanted to push him for more, but the tight set of his shoulders kept her quiet. “I don’t know if I ever said thank you,” she finally said.
His glance and nod warmed the chill between them, and then he disappeared into his room.
She blinked as the conversation settled into her and his words finally sank in. She crossed to his door on the far side of the house. Hunter had his back to her and was in the middle of peeling his sweater off. His muscles rippled as he tossed the garment into his hamper.
“What do you mean by ‘if I don’t know by now’?”
He spun in her direction and she stared at his bare chest and carved six-pack. Alessandra tried to recall the last time she’d seen him bare-chested. She thought it might have been when she was in middle school and he was a senior in high school. His physique distracted her and she completely forgot the question she just asked.
“You really don’t understand, do you?”
Her gaze snapped from his chest to his eyes. “Huh?”
He raised an eyebrow.
Alessandra shook her head to clear her mind. “I don’t understand what?”
Hunter crossed to the door and grabbed the doorframe with his hands, blocking her from entering farther. “You don’t want to get into this with me right now.”
His tone ruffled the alpha in her and she straightened, with a glare. “Yes. I do.”
“Alessandra,” he said, his tone held a warning as clear as the use of her full name. He dropped his arms and stepped back, putting distance between them.
She encroached on his space. “Hunter, what is with you?”
His jaw clicked closed and the blaze in his eyes turned feral. “You can’t be this close to me right now.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he growled, and his hands curled into fists.
Alessandra looked up into his electric blue eyes and something inside her fluttered. His musky scent mixed with the aggravation radiating from him. “Because why?” Her question came out in a soft whisper.
“Because I can’t get that shit out of my head. I wasn’t there to stop them, and it burns more than you can fathom. Every night I hear you screaming in your sleep and that just magnifies my failure.” He turned away from her and his hands slowly uncurled.
The tension in his back remained and she reached out, placing her palm on his shoulder.
“I was the one who blew you off that night. It’s not your fault.”
Hunter sighed. “I should have been close enough to do something,” he whispered. “I should have known.”
Alessandra stepped to his side, taking in his profile. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye but he didn’t turn to meet her gaze. “Hunter, there was no way you could have known. I didn’t even sense it until it was too late.”
His eyes closed. “You were too caught up in trying to be normal to sense the danger.”
His tone was harsh enough to draw her hand away from his skin. Hunter glared sideways. “You are always too caught up in Alessandra to see anything beyond your narrow view.”
“What the hell...”
He turned, grabbed her by the arms, and slammed her against the wall, pressing his form to her with a low growl. “I’ve always been your equal in speed and strength out there.” He nodded towards the window. “And I did a damned good job leading the pack while you were away, but you never even acknowledged it. Just like you’ve never acknowledged this.”
Alessandra stared wide-eyed into his angry features, but that wasn’t what clouded her mind. It was his hard body pressed against hers, all of it, including parts she had never associated with her beta. She gasped as his hips pressed into her, making his point clear.
“That is what you do to me. Now do you understand why I damned myself alongside you?”
Alessandra couldn’t speak, she just searched his eyes. Flashes of pain and want echoed in his irises like a warning signal, and her breath hitched.
“They took what I have wanted for years. They hurt you in ways I don’t know how to heal. They made it so that when I brush against you, you flinch. That is harder than your naive ignorance ever was.”
“I just never...” Alessandra started
Hunter lowered her and stepped away. “You never saw me. I get it.” He put his hands up, increasing his distance.
She blinked, and took him in as if staring at a stranger. “That’s not it. I guess I always assumed your interest lay elsewhere, so the thought of you and me being more than just an alpha and her second in command never entered my mind.”
His eyes narrowed. “But you see me now, right?” He held his arms wide.
Heat filled Alessandra’s cheeks. “It’s kind of hard not to.”
His lips thinned as he pressed them together like he was trying to keep a comment to himself. He rolled his eyes and reached for the t-shirt on the edge of the bed.
When he covered his chiseled chest, a measure of disappointment filled her, and that reaction sent a jolt of electricity from her fingertips right into the center of her soul. She had never viewed him as mate material before, and now that his true intentions had finally been laid out before her, it sparked a fiery current. One that she was deathly afraid of.
Alessandra took a step backwards, putting a buffer of space between them, and Hunter sighed.
“Really?”
Her eyes darted around the room as the discomfort built inside her like a wild fire, turning her confidence into fear. The panic attack squeezed her lungs and all her mind focused on was the abuse she’d endured in the van. The thought of another man touching her made her stomach roll, and she bolted into the hallway and nearly dove at the toilet in her bathroom, reaching it just in time for the contents of her stomach to paint the bowl.
“This is why I shredded their throats,” Hunter said from behind her.
His hands gently pulled her hair away from her face and he knelt beside her, rubbing her back as the memories overwhelmed her once more.
Chapter Two
Hunter sat in the dark, staring out into the deep woods. He had cleaned Alessandra up and tucked her into bed before retiring to the living room and the fifth of vodka he had stashed away. Alcohol wasn’t a werewolf’s friend, as Alessandra had found out. It shut down their senses and made it impossible to shift.
But it was also something that numbed the pain.
Alessandra’s reaction tonight was not what he thought it would be. He thought by now she would have warme
d up to him, or at least have seen the possibilities, especially with the spark that had filled her eyes at the sight of him shirtless.
Instead, the thought of being with him made her vomit.
He scoffed, and drained the glass, letting the bite of the vodka settle his nerves.
“What the hell did you expect?” he asked his reflection. No answer came, so he filled the glass and repeated, grimacing at the slow burn sliding down his esophagus.
He downed another drink and picked up the bottle, pouring the last few drops into his glass. His hands tingled, as did his cheeks, and he let out a large sigh.
“Hunter?”
He stiffened on the couch, but didn’t turn. The fact he hadn’t heard her pad down the stairs or caught her scent on the air gave testament to the risks of alcohol for their kind.
She stepped into view, her gaze glued to the now empty bottle. Instead of drowning in the last half glass himself, he offered it to her.
She stared at it before shaking her head.
“Suit yourself.” He hammered the last of the vodka back and slammed the glass on the table.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting shitfaced.” He licked his numb lips. “Duh.” Her incredulous look crawled under his inebriated skin. “Don’t look so disappointed.”
“I just...” She waved at him.
“You just what? You just thought I’d stick my tail between my legs and follow you around like I have for the last ten years?” Sarcasm rang in his voice. “Just be a good boy and not make any waves?” Anger flared at the rise in her eyebrows. “Fuck you.”
