Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1)

by McKenzie Hunter

  Ethan stayed close to me, his arm at my waist as we threaded through the crowds. His gaze darted through the crowd. His hold on me tightened when the crowd thickened. He whispered directions to me as he guided me through the mass of people. It was the end of the workday and the city had become busier and more unsettling. The tall buildings blocked the sun making the city look dark and oppressive. The sounds of rushing loafers, tennis shoes and high heels against the asphalt were harsh and distracting.

  The sordid combination of perfume, cologne, noise, chatter, and the negative energy from a long, hard day at work was overwhelming. I didn’t mind the crowds. I hated the noise and smells. But it was the chatter that bothered me the most. Auditory discrimination was still difficult for me. Far too often, I found myself engrossed in several conversations without really trying. After several minutes of conversation hopping, I was exhausted.

  “This way.” Ethan took a firm hold on my elbow and directed me toward the alley behind a restaurant. It reeked from the garbage that filled the large bins that lined the narrow enclave. Debris that didn’t manage to land in the containers blew across our pathway. The smell was nauseating. Leaning against the brick wall, he sunk into the darkness. Someone walked toward us but with the sun glaring behind him, I couldn’t make out the face. Once closer, I realized I didn’t recognize him; but he had a look of familiarity as though he knew me. As he inched closer to me, I greeted him with a placid smile.

  Ethan appeared behind the stranger and with one sweeping move, he wrapped his hands around the man’s upper body and twisted his neck, breaking it. The stranger let out a faint strangled cry before his eyes rolled back and blood seeped from his mouth.

  Gaping in shocked silence, I stifled my cries. Ethan’s eyes were a smoldering gray, and I knew who was in the pilot seat at this moment.

  “What the hell did you do?” I choked out. I didn’t give him a chance to answer before darting past him and running as fast as I could toward the street.

  “Skylar wait!”

  I didn’t bother turning around. There wasn’t any explanation he could have given me that would have made this situation right. The man was human. There was a weakness to his struggle. There wasn’t anything supernatural about him. He wasn’t a vampire. This was bad, really bad. What the hell had I gotten myself into? My thoughts went into overdrive. Why did I trust the were-animals? Had they really given me a reason too? Nothing really made sense at this point. All I knew was that Ethan had just killed a human for no apparent reason and I needed to get away from him.

  “Skylar!”

  Ethan’s footsteps pounded heavily across the pavement as he gained on me. My mind was bombarded by a dichotomy of thoughts that I couldn’t sort out fast enough. These people were murderers—period. All I needed was to get to the street and catch a cab. I would have to figure the rest out later.

  Running blindly to escape from Ethan, I collided with a man at the end of the alley. I fell and stammered out a quick apology. Before I could come to my feet, the stranger grabbed me and pulled me to him. He held me so tight it was painful. I pushed his hands off my shoulder and flipped him over on his back. He grabbed my ankle and yanked hard, pulling me to the ground with him. He was human; breaking his hold was easy, but he was quick. Pulling something silver out of his pocket, he jabbed it in my direction. I couldn’t quite see what it was until I gripped his hand and held it steady. A Taser. He struggled to connect it with my body. I kept rolling, moving and twisting from left to right to keep it from touching me. He may not have been as strong as I was, but human tenacity was a bitch. He worked hard trying to disable me with the Taser.

  Quiet steps approached. Ethan grabbed the Taser out of the assailant’s hand and lifted him off the ground with ease. His hand grasped the man’s neck. The human struggled for what seemed like an eternity as Ethan squeezed the life from his body. The sharp pop of a gun firing resounded and both Ethan and the assailant fell to the ground. My ears rang from the sound and blood from Ethan’s wound splattered, covering both my face and shirt.

  The new assailant ran toward us with his gun drawn. I moved closer to Ethan, the muscles of his neck pulled tight as he labored to breath. He was close to changing. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered, trying to sound soothing but the panic tainted my voice.

  He steadied his gun, preparing to take another shot, this time at Ethan’s head. I threw the Taser that had fallen next to my feet. It lodged hard against his face sending him stumbling back. I lunged at him, helping his fall to the ground. He clawed at me as he tried to push me off him. Eventually I gained control and held him down firmly thrashing him repeatedly with my fist. I pummeled into him with a violent rage, ignoring the distinct feeling of bones separating and pressing into my skin, and reveling in the feel of fragmented bones and battered soft tissue underneath my hand. I hit and punched at him until he was limp, and I had sufficiently exorcised my anger and panic. I looked down at the bloody, disfigured man. He was dead.

  Too shocked to feel any guilt, I stared at the results of my rage. My hands were bloodstained and bruised, and still I thirsted for more violence. It wasn’t the animal part of me that killed this man. It was an act done by the part of me I considered human. The so-called humane part of me wanted to cause more violence and inflict more pain.

  “Skylar,” Ethan breathed out behind me. The sound of his voice pulled me out of my dazed state. I took another look at the stilled body and the results of the malevolence. I absorbed the violence, took in the horrific image and wondered where the line between my animal and my humanity lay.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered, leaning into me. His familiar calm washed over me. I leaned back against him trying to make the images of what I’d done disappear. Eventually, I gave up on that lost cause and followed him back to the car.

  By the time we got to the car, Ethan was noticeably in pain. I drove as he settled back in the passenger side. He pulled out his phone. “I’ve been shot,” he stated in a strained voice “ … of course it was silver; I wouldn’t call you if it weren’t.”

  Jeremy’s voice came through clearly as he tried to determine how far we were and the extent of the injuries. “Should I come there?” he asked in a hurried voice.

  “Skylar’s driving, I should get there before there’s too much damage,” he assured Dr. Baker. Each word pulled a painful grimace to his face. Sweat started to form along his brow and his color became ashen. He had already pulled off his shirt to assess the damage. I didn’t have a severe aversion to silver so I never knew how traumatic it could be to a were-animal. Silver stopped the healing process, and the skin inflicted with the silver darkened, appearing to go through phases of necrosis.

  I didn’t know how much time we had. Ethan didn’t look well and the traffic was horrible. We took a back road, which kept us out of stop and go traffic, but it added to our drive time.

  “I think I can take the bullet out,” I offered as we navigated through the back streets. My hands were quite steady and, in the past, I exhibited the necessary dexterity to apply stitches to myself on several occasions.

  It must have been really painful because he agreed without hesitation. We pulled over when we found an area less populated. I went to the trunk to see what they had. I figured they had to have an emergency kit or something; after all, these people had a hospital in their home. They did. I pulled out the emergency kit and a toolbox.

  The bullet hadn’t penetrated that deeply, I could feel the edge of it when I touched his chest. I used the alcohol, box cutter, and needle-nose pliers as best I could. Placing the box cutter firmly against the skin, I pressed it deep enough to separate the bullet from the tissue. I was so nervous, my hands slipped several times cutting him. He winced but never made a sound. Once I separated the bullet from the tissue well enough, I used pliers to dislodge the bullet. When I finished, I cleaned and bandaged the wound.

  After the bullet was removed, the tissue quickly repaired itself.

  As I na
vigated my way through traffic, Ethan laid back against the seat, periodically glancing in my direction.

  “Why did you run from me?” he finally asked in a calm voice. I glanced in his direction. His appearance was less distressed; his eyes no longer held the grayish hue.

  “Scared … I was scared,” I admitted. “I thought you had killed someone without cause,” I continued in a small voice.

  “You think I am capable of that?” he asked in a low, sharp voice.

  Yes. I thought he was capable of that and so much more. “I didn’t know what to think.”

  He inhaled deeply and I could feel his eyes bearing on me. “Who were they?”

  “They were part of the vampires’ garden,” he said flatly, his eyes still fixed on me. “They are humans who serve the seethe in various ways but mostly as food supply. Some do it in hopes of being changed and others to satisfy their own perverted needs. Those who do it in hope of being changed become slaves, willing to do anything to please their master, including abducting you,” he said as he looked at me.

  He shifted in his seat and looked out the window. “You don’t trust us.”

  I didn’t know how to answer that question. “I’ve never had to trust anyone other than my mother. I don’t think I know how to,” I admitted. But it was only a partial truth. No, I didn’t trust them and I doubted I ever would.

  I wanted to say something to put an end to this long uncomfortable silence. We drove the rest of the way in silence; every so often, he looked in my direction and I couldn’t quite read his expression. After I pulled into the driveway, I quickly got out the car and went to the passenger side to help him. He closed the distance between us as he stepped out of the car. His face was mild, almost gentle as he grasped strands of my hair. Rolling them absently over his fingers in a manner that seemed intimate, his gaze roved over my face carefully. “You need to trust us, or at the very least learn to fake it,” he stated in a cool voice. He held my gaze; it was rapacious and hard. His comment wasn’t so much a suggestion as it was a well-worded threat. Dr. Baker met us at the door, his face etched with concern. Holding the bullet between my fingers, I looked at it again and dropped it into his hand.

  “Well done,” he stated appreciatively as I walked past him. Since I was the reason for the injury, helping him didn’t seem to warrant appreciation.

  “How’s the shoulder,” he asked Ethan before he walked past him.

  “Still here.”

  “Meet me in my office. I still would like to look at it,” he called after him.

  Ethan nodded heading toward Sebastian’s office, but he was out the door before Ethan could knock. His lips curved into a half smile, giving the shoulder a once over. “It’s been a long time since you’ve felt the tinge of silver on your flesh,” Sebastian stated.

  “It’s a pain one never forgets. I don’t need a reminder of it anytime soon.”

  “Skylar, I see that your daytrip was quite eventful. You now see that the vampires don’t have to take a stroll in the daylight to get to you,” he stated contemptuously. “There won’t be any more trips for you until this is over. So don’t ask again.”

  I started counting from a thousand giving myself time to cool off before I ended up telling him what I thought about having to ask permission to leave the house. I missed several numbers in the process—too angry to concentrate. It’s not that I didn’t agree with him because it was quite tiring getting attacked every time I left the house. But would it have hurt him to ask me like an adult rather than commanding me as though I were a child?

  “Being attacked every time I go out of the house really makes for a bad day. And because of the ever-so-sweet way you asked, I think I can comply with that,” I stated in a cloying tone. His eyes narrowed into a glare before he directed his attention back to Ethan.

  I started up the stairs but didn’t miss him telling Ethan that Josh had returned. By the time I backtracked down, they had disappeared behind the office door. Since fighting with a controlling Alpha wasn’t on my to-do list, I abandoned the idea of knocking on the office door.

  By the time I had showered and eaten dinner, once again alone in the bedroom, I had grown impatient, waiting for them to let me speak to this Josh. I hadn’t seen or heard anything from Ethan since we had pulled up to the house three hours earlier. Pacing the room wasn’t helping either. I wandered through the house, which had become suspiciously quiet since his arrival. Did he have the same effect on them that I had when I first came to the house? Did everyone just scatter? Blindly, I searched through the house, listening for an unfamiliar voice, tracking an unfamiliar scent, looking for that unfamiliar person. Each room I passed, I placed my ear to it, listening for anything—voices, screams, even a wicked cackle. I didn’t care; I just wanted something.

  My final stop was by the room Ethan stayed in, which turned out to be a bust. This Josh had to be somewhere in this house because I could sense something amiss. The problem was he could be anywhere in the maze of rooms and hallways of this absurdly large house.

  Maybe it was a good thing I hadn’t found him. He clearly wouldn’t be alone. What would I say? Hey, Josh, I was just stalking you. Can we talk?

  “Did you need something, Skylar?” Surprised, I looked in the direction of the sound. My ears easily identified him before I could see him.

  “Ethan.” I called out into the dark hallway.

  “Are you lost?” His crisp voice asked as he appeared in my line of sight.

  “No, just looking around.”

  His eyes narrowed as he leaned against the wall, “What were you looking for Skylar?”

  “You. I was looking for you. I hadn’t seen you since earlier and I wanted to make sure you were alright,” I lied. I didn’t care for lying to people but I didn’t want to tell him I was stalking Josh, either.

  “I’m fine,” he said. “You did well today. It is greatly appreciated.”

  I smiled. Before I could walk away, he stepped closer, forcing me against the wall. His palm rested on the upper part of my sternum keeping me firmly in place. He leaned in close, inhaling as he ran his nose along my jawline until his lips rested against my ear. I scowled.

  He whispered but it came out as a growl. “You’ve lived so long in your human world that you have not developed the skills to successfully lie to a were-animal. Do you hear it—your heart rate; it’s beating too fast—and your breathing’s changed; it’s irregular.”

  “Perhaps my heart is beating fast and my breathing is irregular because a scary werewolf has me cornered in a dark hallway,” I said, sounding calmer than I felt.

  He pressed closer into me, “I really hate to be lied to.”

  I challenge you to find a person that enjoys it.

  “Tell me; what were you looking for?” he asked again.

  “I want to talk to Josh,” I admitted, trying to push myself up from the wall, but he pressed in harder, keeping me in place.

  Too much time passed as he stood staring at me. “No. Not today,” he asserted.

  “Yes. Today, and preferably now if you can make that happen.” He let me push my way past him, but he held me a few moments as a reminder of who really was in control.

  “No.”

  I was fuming by the time I turned to face him. He looked amused by my anger. If only he knew the many ways I was contemplating wiping that smug look off his face, it would have vanished quickly. “If he’s here, why do I have to wait until tomorrow? Why can’t we just get this over with tonight?”

  “Because.”

  Was he kidding me with this! I never understood the answer: “because I said so.” I realized many people grew up in households like that, but my mother worked on logic. My household wasn’t a dictatorship. There was a reason for everything, which I was always given. I needed a reason. “This is bullsh—”

  “Skylar, you will speak to him when it is time. Throwing a tantrum isn’t going to change things. Go to sleep.”

  Screw you! I may not have said it, b
ut the hate-filled glare I casted in his direction said it far better than words could.

  Harsh eyes shot back at me. The amused grin disappeared, replaced by a clenched jaw and scowl. “Go to the room or—”

  Or what? Was he going to drag me there kicking and screaming? There was a tense, long silence between us; I was seething and he was infuriated.

  Something changed; I think his anger tipped just a little too far because he looked like he was working hard to control it. It was obvious he wasn’t used to many people defying him, and he wasn’t handling it well now. My autonomic nervous system was yelling at me to run. Instinct urged me to get away from the irate wolf, but I refused to listen.

  He sighed and spoke in a very calm voice, “Okay. You can speak with him tomorrow morning. Goodnight.” He turned, and with a lot of effort, he walked away.

  Did I just win? I think I had but as I walked back to the room, I didn’t feel victorious. There wasn’t an urge to do a chest bump or a fist pump. Ethan had agreed to let me speak with Josh tomorrow, which was what he wanted in the first place. It was a hollow victory. I may have only shortened the time to speak with Josh by a couple of hours or so.

  I trudged back to the room only to find Steven sitting in front of the door with a textbook in his hand. He looked up and smiled. I still had a grimace on my face from my encounter with Ethan and couldn’t force my face to relax into a smile to greet him.

  “Hey Sky … um, Skylar, how’s it going?” he asked in a low drawl before he returned his attention to the book.

  “Fine,” I muttered.

  He looked up again, “Sebastian or Ethan?” he asked with an amused smirk.

  “What?”

  “Which one did you have your little encounter with? Seems like each time you speak with one of them, you have that look on you face,” he acknowledged.

  “Ethan,” I admitted stepping past him to go into the room.

  Catching hold of my leg, he said, “You’ve been in this house four days. You’ve eaten with us twice. The rest of the time, you’ve been in this room hiding. You may have to be here a couple more days, so you might as well enjoy the amenities of the house. I can’t let you continue to stay in your room like a prisoner; it’s inhospitable. Joan will have my neck for it if it continues.”