Blood Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

  Slater paused in his task. He had repaired the radio and was screwing the plate back over it, but now stopped and stared at them. Davis shifted his weight uncomfortably.

  “Jason, we can still—”

  “And he,” he pointed a finger at Davis, who jumped at being singled out, “doesn’t know where the hideout is.”

  “It’s not my fault!” Davis held up his hands in surrender. “Simon never told me.”

  “Rose could be dead,” Jason shouted just as Cheyenne joined in the argument.

  “Hey!”

  Everyone turned to look at her. She looked furious as she stood. “None of you are helping this situation. You,” she pointed at Jason, “you are quick to point the blame at everyone but yourself. This arguing is solving nothing.”

  Exasperated, Jason kicked at the leg of his chair and sent it flying against the wall. “Fuck! We have nothing, Cheyenne. We’re going to need a fucking miracle to find her now.”

  “Well, have you tried praying for one?” Cheyenne calmly asked, lifting an eyebrow. Glen chuckled slightly. All eyes were on Jason.

  “Oh, don’t fucking kid with me, not now. Not at a time like this.”

  “Who said I was kidding? You want a miracle, then pray for one.” She crossed her arms over her breasts and stared at him.

  “Listen, Jason—” Glen stepped in to intervene but a crackle from the radio in Slater’s hands silenced him.

  “Hello?” A female voice came through the speaker. “Hello? Requesting emergency assistance. Over.”

  Slater stared at the radio as if it were something foreign. Davis felt his heart leap in his chest. He knew that voice.

  “There’s your miracle,” Glen said with a surprised chuckle. “Who—”

  Davis rushed forward and wrenched the radio from Slater’s hand before anyone could say another word.

  “Hello?” Davis cried into the machine. “Hello? Claire?”

  His heart thudded in his ears and drowned out every other noise. The others looked at him quizzically. Jason moved forward. His eyes were yellow and angry.

  Oh, please answer Claire, Davis begged silently. She could be their last hope. She was still alive. He heard her voice over the radio again, distorted but undeniably her.

  “Davis?” There was a disbelieving tone in her voice.

  “Yes! Claire, where are you?”

  “I’m on the interstate. Where are you?”

  “I’m—”

  Jason grabbed the radio from him. The look in his eyes froze Davis where he stood, and he found it hard to speak suddenly.

  “Who is that?” Jason asked, his voice a deep growl. Glen stepped forward, pulling on Jason’s shoulder to draw him back, but he shrugged him away. He started to crush the radio in his grip.

  “It’s Claire,” Davis finally got out.

  “Claire?” Glen repeated, “Who’s she?”

  “She was with us, when—” Davis stopped, seeing the anger rise in Jason further.

  “Davis?” Claire’s voice came from the radio. “Are you still there?”

  “She’s a hunter?” Jason stared at the radio in his hand. He was about to crush it.

  “No, she’s not. She’s like me, she just got caught up with them—”

  There was a moment of silence as Jason considered, before Claire’s voice broke in again over the radio. She sounded desperate and pleaded for Davis to answer her.

  “It could be our only chance,” Glen said from behind Jason.

  “I know,” Jason said, irritably to him, the looked back to Davis. “Can we trust her?”

  There was no hesitation when Davis answered. “Yes. She can tell us where they are.”

  Jason exchanged a deep glance with Glen, who nodded. He held the radio out to Davis with a warning, “Don’t tell her where we are. We’ll set up a neutral meeting place, in case she’s not alone.”

  Davis nodded and took the radio into his shaking hand and spoke into it. “Claire? I’m still here.”

  “Oh, thank God.” She sighed with relief. “I need help, badly. I’ve gotten away from Simon. There’s something I have to tell you. He’s a—”

  “I know, Claire. Where are you? Can we meet you somewhere?” He spoke with more confidence than he really felt. His voice wavered only slightly.

  “Um…” The radio crackled with static, distorting her words. “Where?”

  Davis was at a loss and looked up. Glen was deep in thought, his eyebrows coming together in a point. Cheyenne had made her way across the floor and stood just behind Davis.

  “What about an empty parking lot somewhere?” she suggested. Glen shook his head.

  “It would still be too public.” He thought a bit longer and paced the floor. Davis felt the radio slipping out of his sweaty hands as he waited for someone to decide.

  “There’s an old Laundromat that has a pretty concealed back alley,” Slater piped up. Glen looked at him, and nodded.

  “I know the place.” He sounded the directions to Davis. “Tell her to meet us there.”

  Davis responded and Claire’s voice was filled with relief.

  “That exit is coming up soon. I’ll be there shortly,” she said. “Over.” The radio crackled, then was silence.

  “I’m going to meet her,” Davis answered.

  “You’re not going alone,” Jason said.

  “That’s right,” Glen broke in. He jingled the keys to his van in his hand. “What if she isn’t exactly alone? What if it’s a clever ruse devised by Simon?”

  Davis hadn’t thought of it. “That does sound like something he would do…” he said. “Okay, but we have to let her think I’m alone. It may scare her if we corner her.”

  Jason scoffed and Davis shot him an annoyed glance but didn’t answer.

  Glen nodded. “Good idea. We better get going.” He turned to Cheyenne. “I guess you’re in charge until we get back.”

  “All right.” She nodded. Aurora stifled a yawn, with indication that she gave no mind to being left here. The boys, Slater and Rebel, were indignant.

  “You’re not leaving us here,” Rebel shouted. “I want to fight.”

  “We’ll follow you,” Slater replied. Glen looked at him sternly.

  “No. You two are still pups, and I am not going to baby-sit you. Give me your keys.” He held out his hand for them.

  “What?” Slater protested, “You can’t do that!”

  “Watch me,” Glen growled. “Do you want me to kick your ass?”

  Slater knew he was outnumbered and defeated. Jason stood behind Glen and appeared to back up the threat. With a scowl, Slater handed over the keys. He then stormed to the couch where he flopped down beside Aurora and fumed.

  “This isn’t fair,” Rebel declared.

  Glen shook his head. “Fair or not, you’re staying here.” He turned to Jason and Davis. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Simon flexed his hands on the railing of the catwalk and looked down. He watched with a careful eye as Eric hauled the dead body of Sean from the premises. Blood dripped from the head wound and formed a red-splotched trail behind him. Simon sneered. Behind him, Alana scoffed. Once Eric was out of the building, she spoke.

  “That was a quick lie,” she said, in an impressed tone. Simon said nothing and gripped the railing a little tighter. Alana waited for an answer, but she didn’t get one. She took a step closer to him.

  “But he’s not going to believe it for long. You can’t make him believe Sean was a traitor without evidence—”

  “I won’t need evidence,” Simon broke in. He looked back at her. “Eric doesn’t question me.”

  Alana laughed shortly. “He will before long. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s beginning to suspect something.”

  Again, Simon did not respond. He was still facing the warehouse’s main floor and the door Eric had disappeared from. Alana snorted, crossed her arms and marched back into his office.

  He didn’t want to admit it, but she w
as right. He, too, had noticed the look of uncertainty in Eric’s eyes.

  Sean was a traitor, he told him. He had been in on the escape plan with Claire. He was responsible for Rose’s escape. He had been against them all from the very beginning.

  And Eric’s nostrils had flared at the news, his deep voice a low growl when he questioned how Simon knew. He had made many lies and he was certain Eric had seen through them all.

  He had done it without argument, ridding the warehouse of the body. Simon continued to stare at the door. Eric would be gone for a while.

  After all his years of careful planning and clever deception, it was all finally falling apart. In the space of a few days, he had lost everything he had gained and worked for. He now risked the most extreme exposure. He had somehow infected Alana with the remains of Rose’s blood caught under his fingernails. She knew what he was now. Sean had found out through eavesdropping, and had been dealt with.

  And Simon was certain the bitch Claire knew. She had freed Rose and took their only mode of transportation. They were gone. The last straw would be Eric and Simon knew it. He would have to be extra careful now.

  Alana coughed behind him and he turned. She was leaning against his desk, watching him.

  I can’t trust her, Simon thought bitterly to himself. She was already proving to be more trouble than he could stand. Her questions were driving him mad and he was in no mood to answer. He drowned out her voice with his own thoughts and put on an emotionless mask.

  If it did not rain soon, he could still track Rose. He still had the chance. Her scent would not have faded yet, and hunting was something he was good at. But the clouds outside his window blocking the stars and the nearly full moon told him another story. There would be no chance for him to track her down.

  Simon was frustrated. It was all wrong.

  “Are you listening to me?” Her voice was shrill and right in his ear. Without thinking, he grabbed her upper arm in one swift move. It drew her near to him. He looked at her only to find her smirking as if that was what she had wanted.

  “You told me we were invincible. Is that true?”

  Simon could see greed sparkling in her green eyes. He curled his lip in disgust.

  “Yes,” he said gruffly and shoved her away. “Now leave me alone.”

  He left her by the rail and made his way to his desk. His rage had collected finally in the pit of his stomach. It was about to explode. Everything was falling apart.

  “Calm down,” Her tone mocked him. He could smell her were-scent. It was growing stronger. It only maddened him.

  Before he realized what he was doing, he had unleashed the beast within himself and had spun around. He grabbed her roughly by the arm. She let out a shocked cry, but it was quickly silenced when ugly fury covered her face. His nails dug into her bare skin.

  His frustration finally mounted to a physical desire. He wanted to dominant, to take control, to punish. Without hesitating, without gentle or logical thought, he tore at her clothes and hit her. He was rough.

  But Alana allowed the punishment of her body and seemed to do so almost gladly. She threw her head back and laughed when he struck her. He lifted her up on the desk, ripped her jeans.

  He was brutal and dug his fingernails into her flesh until they bled. He pulled her hair and tangled it around his fist. And she laughed again.

  The laughter infuriated him and Simon growled. He went for her bared throat. His teeth tore into her skin. The laughter was stopped, finally, only to be replaced by a gasp and cry of pain. When he tore his mouth away, blood dripped from his lip.

  “You want to know all about being a werewolf?” He dug his fingers into her shoulders and licked the blood from his lips. It tasted of copper, but slightly sweet. Alana’s eyes were partially clouded, but he could still see the greed and now the lust that overtook her. He thought he caught a glimmer of understanding, he couldn’t be sure.

  “Here’s your first lesson,” he growled huskily near her ear. “How to submit to the alpha male.” A flash of rage swept across her face and her eyes were briefly golden. The wolf was coming out. Simon grinned maliciously. The wolf understood, even if her human counterpart did not.

  His show of dominance against Rose earlier had invigorated him, but she was not here now. But there was another female werewolf, another bitch to take punishment in her place. And that suited him just fine.

  Alana struck at him, her hand curling into claws that would slice his skin. Simon felt no pain. He knew she wouldn’t fight for long.

  He yanked her back by a fistful of her red hair, exposing her already bleeding throat. He took the wound again into his mouth and bit down.

  The bitch cried out in pain and he growled to silence and warn her. But this bitch was newly awakened and her wolf instincts had not taken over completely. He would have to show her the hard way.

  He tore away from her, again tasting her blood. Her face was a mask of lividness and her eyes blazed. The wolf was present. Alana shrieked with her hand to her throat. She kicked at him but he snarled and pulled her from the desk.

  The scent of blood mingled with her were-scent, her fear-scent and the strong, musky smell of her arousal. Even if she wanted to, she could not hide it from him. Feeling completely feral, he forced her lithe form over the desk and pressed his hardness to her backside.

  Simon pinned her there and clamped his jaw firmly against the back of her neck. Her cry of pain became one of pleasure. He began to grind against her and he knew she enjoyed it. Her aroused scent was even stronger.

  He wasted no more time in exerting further dominance. Her thin panties fell around her ankles and he sank his teeth into her neck more. He lapped at her blood and growled.

  He freed his hardness from his jeans and forced himself into her. She was wet and ready. It was not rape. His fingers tore at her scalp when he pulled her hair taunt and dominated her. She moaned with pleasure, with pain.

  It was over almost as quickly as it had started. There was a snarl, a flash of pleasure and then nothing. It was over. Simon pulled himself from her, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and pushed her from the desk.

  She stumbled and fell, tripping over the tangled panties around her ankles. She stared up at him from the floor and he was disgusted with the triumphant look she gave him. Quickly, he buttoned his pants and sneered.

  “Get the fuck out of here.” He clenched his teeth as he spoke and turned his head from her. In the reflection of the window, he saw her gloating smile. She retrieved her jeans, pulled up her panties and left.

  Simon exhaled a long sigh. As fun as it had been dominating a werewolf bitch, it was not what he had wanted. He growled to himself.

  He grabbed a cigarette from the half-crushed packet in his pocket and lit it. The smoke curled around him as he stared hard at the reflection of the golden-eyed wolf that would not go away.

  * * *

  The alley behind the Laundromat was just as Jason had expected it. It was dark, warm and smelled of freshly dried clothes the closer one got to it. Instead, he smelled the sweet, sick smell of the rotting garbage within the dumpster he crouched behind.

  Davis was in the middle of the alley, waiting for the woman to show up. Glen was in the van, where he had said he would stay until they were sure the coast was clear. The engine was silent and he was hidden in the dark shadows of the trees that he was parked beneath.

  They had a plan in case she was not alone. Jason did not trust her, even when Davis vouched for her, and Glen would rather be safe than sorry. They would take no chances. Glen would flash the headlights of the van as a distraction, and Jason would jump them with the Beretta.

  He touched the steel under his shirt, closing his fist around the grip. Glen’s leather jacket was warm enough against him, but he felt a cold sweat already saturating his skin. She had better come soon, he thought, and edged his way to the front of the dumpster to watch Davis.

  Davis stepped from side to side, balancing his weight from one f
oot to the other. He was nervous; Jason could smell the fear-scent. He narrowed his eyes. If he trusted her so much, why was he nervous?

  They did not have to wait for much longer. Headlights gleamed before Davis as a vehicle rounded the corner of the alley. The loud rumble of an engine came closer and Jason sucked in a harsh breath. He crouched behind the dumpster, peeking out to watch. The lights blinded him.

  The engine and the lights went off, revealing a large white van. A blonde female stepped out of the van and walked toward Davis with a limp. He met her halfway.

  The woman threw her arms around him and was sobbing a minute later. Jason bolted upright. When he realized she was just hugging him, he relaxed a little. Davis stared helplessly toward him, not sure where he was to place his hands on her back. The female sobbed but with relief.

  “I thought you were dead! Simon told us you had gotten killed.” She pulled back from him.

  Even from where he waited, Jason could see the tears that glistened wet on her cheeks. She wiped them from her face.

  “No. It was Simon that shot me,” Davis said in a voice so low Jason could barely hear. He sniffed the air, trying to smell if others were with her. He caught a strong whiff of the garbage smell and nothing else.

  The female was not surprised. “Yeah, that sounds about right.” She winced as she put pressure on her right leg. Davis stepped forward and supported her.

  “Are you okay? What happened?”

  “I fell when I was escaping. I twisted my ankle really bad. Ow!” She winced again and made a grimace. Davis led her back to the van and she eased against the side of it.

  Jason was tired of waiting. Too much time had been wasted and he was impatient enough. He slipped from the shadows and began his approach.

  It was the woman who saw him first and she froze. Her fear-scent was strong and her eyes were wide with surprise. Davis caught the look from her and turned.

  “Where’s Rose?” Jason demanded. He pulled the gun from its concealment under his shirt and cocked it. A strong hand suddenly had hold of his wrist and he found himself staring into Davis’ cold grey eyes.

  “Leave her alone.”