Black Moon (Silver Moon, #2)

by Rebecca A. Rogers

  You weren’t kidnapped. You gladly came with us. Now, come with me so I can fill you in on what happened last night.

  We glare at each other for at least two minutes solid. Reluctantly, I give in. It’s not like my options are great right now. I can easily try an escape through the front door, but that means I’d be up against Mrs. Conway and Cameron—and that’s just on the inside. I’m sure Ethan, Mr. Conway and a few Followers are standing watch on the outside, just in case.

  Speaking of Cameron, who is the resident problem initiator, he’s unusually quiet as he stares off past the backyard, into the forest. I pause before Ben can lead me down the hallway.

  “What’s with you? Don’t have anyone to show off for?” I ask.

  Cameron turns around to see who I’m talking to, I assume, and is caught off-guard that it’s him, but quickly regains his self-control. “I’m still my typical self. You’re just making it too easy right now, waltzing in here like a dog with a piece of meat dangling in front of it.” He smirks, eyes averting toward Ben for a brief second. “Guess we all know who the meat is.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “Is that so? I’ve got news for you; just wait until my family hears about this. If they so much . . .” I trail off once Cameron and Mrs. Conway begin to laugh.

  “They were there. They know exactly where you are. Although, they probably won’t come for you anytime soon since most of them were injured in the fight,” he says, grinning.

  Swallowing away the sudden swell in my throat, I question the injuries, and the brawl.

  “Oh yeah,” responds Cameron. “They were hurt pretty badly. I’m not sure who was who, but the blood and whimpering proved we won yet again.” He shakes his head like it’s funny they defeated my family and friends. “Never gets old.”

  I’m going to bitch slap the smile off his face. I stalk toward him. When he realizes what I’m doing, he charges me, slamming my entire body into a wall. Ben comes from my right, tackling Cameron to the ground like he’s a linebacker. Cameron recovers swiftly, though, and stands up. They move in rapid blurs across the room, destroying everything in their path—glass vases, pictures hanging on the wall, the couch and loveseat cushions, empty plates on the coffee and end tables. Despite their stupidity, Mrs. Conway doesn’t move from her perch on the arm of the La-Z-Boy. I, however, hide out in the hallway until the brotherly tiff is over.

  “Enough,” Mrs. Conway orders. “Benjamin, take our guest to her room. Cameron, go see if your father needs help with anything.” She sighs. “I wish I could have just one day out of the year where there isn’t chaos. That would be absolute Heaven.”

  Ben straightens his shirt while Cameron glares at me.

  “C’mon,” says Ben, grabbing hold of my arm and jerking me down the hall with him. We descend a set of stairs to the basement below. It’s cold and dismal down here. The walls are made of large grey stones, and there are several linked cages, which look like jail cells.

  “Don’t tell me this is where I’m staying.”

  He gives me a look, one that says, Duh! This isn’t a Hilton.

  “No way! I’m not staying in these nasty things!”

  “You really don’t have much of a choice. Until you gain your power, my family will keep you here.”

  “And then what? Kill me?” I cross my arms. “Please, Ben. Save yourself the trouble and get me out of here. You and I both know my family won’t wait that long to save me, and when they do, they’ll have back-up.”

  He leans in so close I can smell the mint on his breath, the sweat from not showering since yesterday and the primal urge for . . . something, though I’m not sure what that is exactly. It’s forbidden and physical and vital. This is new to me, this heightened sense. Positive it has everything to do with my being a werewolf now, it’s something I’ll have to familiarize with.

  “You think we don’t know your family will come for you? They’d be walking into a trap. I’m sure they’re smarter than that. So, don’t expect them to attend dinner tonight; it might take a while.”

  Ignoring his statement, I do something totally out of character: I lean toward him . . . and sniff. Why this impulse came over me, I may never know. But what I do know is that I had to do it.

  He jerks back. “What the hell, Candra? Keep your animal side in check. That’s just creepy.”

  Instead of taking his advice, I do the exact opposite—I yank on his shirt so that he and I are chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh. Then I smell him again while resting my cheek against his torso. He turns his head away, embarrassed, I suppose.

  “Sorry, but you smell delicious,” I say, still clinging to his shirt with my hands. I even close my eyes every time I inhale.

  “Stop it,” he demands, but makes no action to block me.

  I watch him, then. He won’t look at me; like he’s afraid I’ll find out his deepest, darkest secret. Maybe he is hiding something. Maybe this is my way of finding out. Seeing him so vulnerable empowers me to carry on, so I run a finger from his neck to his waist, taking my sweet time, stopping at a couple of points along the way. His breath hitches when I reach the top of his boxers, and he grabs my wrists, anger flaring behind his eyes as they lock with mine.

  “I said stop,” he commands through clenched teeth.

  Even though he’s mad, there’s a cavernous part of me that wants to continue, that’s forcing me to find his weakness. What is it, exactly?

  “Ben,” I fuss, “you don’t really want me to stop, do you?” I curl my lower lip into a pout, peeking up at him through my lashes.

  His eyes expand and then return to normal. “Damn it,” he mumbles, releasing my wrists. Hands on hips, he takes a couple of steps away from me. One of his hands to run over his face like he’s wiping something away. “We can’t do this, Candra. This is bad. Very bad.”

  Okay, now I have no idea what he’s talking about. I was just messing with him. “What?”

  “You’re, ah, you’re going to have some desires that, um, aren’t normal. God, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you right now.” He covers his eyes with one hand, but continues talking. “When you turn, everything is heightened—all of your senses, wants, needs.” He uncovers his face to look at me. What he sees, I’m unsure, but it’s enough to make him question if I have any clue what he’s going on about.

  “Okay, I get it,” I say. “But I didn’t mean to force your werewolf hormones to ride the never-ending sexual Ferris wheel.”

  “Candra! God, seriously . . .”

  I snort. “You really don’t like talking about this stuff, do you?”

  He moves forward, just a couple of steps closer, but not as close as we were. “My family is upstairs. If they wanted, they could listen to all of our conversations.”

  “And everything else, right?” I narrow my eyes at him.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

  Having caught him red-handed, I smirk. I saunter toward him exactly the same way he did with me days ago in my room. His retreats, back striking the stone wall, entire body tensing the nearer I become. Close, yes, but not close enough to touch. Knowing this aggravates his cravings, and that it’s pushing him to the brink of self-control, I can’t help but test him. He’s the one who tricked me into this soul-mate mess, so why not have some fun while I’m locked up?

  I smell passion, and the ample throb of seduction, radiating from his skin. He wants this.

  Pushing myself up on the tips of my toes, I’m close enough to his mouth to leave an impression. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I whisper against the edge of his mouth. A small amount of whisker stubble pricks my lips. Pressing myself into the curves of his body, we’re molded as one. I flash sensual images of us together through my mind, knowing he can see everything, to tease him further.

  He grabs me by the arms and tosses me to the ground, marching toward the stairs leading up to the main floor. I land on my side, next to one of the cells.
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  “What was that for?” I yell. Not what I had in mind.

  His mental battle is apparent in the way he won’t look at me, and then his eyes illuminate a deep yellow before he charges toward me. Having no idea what he’s about to do, I scramble to stand and fight back. But he’s way too fast. He clasps my upper arms again, slamming me against the hard wall.

  “Have you completely lost your mind?” he asks, out of breath.

  This is what you wanted, Ben. You brought this on yourself when you . . . What was it again? Sealed the deal?

  He breathes roughly through his nose. In and out. In and out. Glaring the entire time. It doesn’t mean you have to turn into a vixen and tempt me.

  I move my head forward so that my lips graze his when I speak. “You love it; otherwise, you wouldn’t be putting on this show.” Besides, they can’t hear the conversation in our heads, right? So, why are you worried?

  If they can’t hear me speak, they’ll assume something’s wrong.

  You’re afraid they’ll interrupt. It’s not a question, so I cock one eyebrow.

  Those black eyes of his bounce back and forth, scanning mine. Yes, he confirms.

  What if they didn’t have to find out?

  His turn to raise a brow. And what, exactly, did you have in mind?

  “Well . . .” I pause, tracing circles on his T-shirt. “You could still talk to me, but it wouldn’t be real. As long as we keep the conversations going, we’ll trick them.”

  He relaxes and grins, exposing his white teeth. “I like this idea.”

  “But not tonight. You’ve already been down here long enough. If they get suspicious—”

  “—they’ll come looking for me,” he finishes.

  “Right. Now, can I at least get some sheets and a pillow, maybe even food?”

  He releases me, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t know, Candra. It would be afterhours before I could reach you.” Seeing my look of despair, he adds, “But I’ll try.” Running one thumb across my cheek, he bends over and kisses me without lingering.

  “I think you can do better than that,” I say, a little put off with his lack at any attempt to make me feel comfortable during my imprisonment.

  A shadow of trouble passes over his face; it’s nothing like I’ve seen before.

  “Do you know what they do to me each and every time I help you?” he asks, voice rising. “Do you know what it’s like to go a week without food or water, to be beaten until your bones snap and think you’re going to die?”

  I shake my head. Of course I don’t know what it’s like.

  “Well, let me fill you in on my family’s love of watching me suffer because of you. It’s exactly like the first time you transition into a werewolf, except with this you remember everything. And then you heal faster than humans, so it’s not long before they come back with more people to beat the shit out of you again and again and again.”

  Oh God. All this time I wondered what he went through because he challenged his own family. Now I know.

  “I’m so sorry. I had no idea.” I hug him, kissing his cheek. He’s reluctant to touch me at first, but then he gives in, squeezing me firmly. We remain embraced for a long time, until we eventually have no choice but to separate. If he stays with me any longer, his family will think he’s conspiring against them.

  In parting, he says, “I’ll bring you something if I have the chance. Otherwise—” figure out how you’re going to escape.

  I tug on his arm, preventing him from leaving. “Tell me why I came with you. Here, I mean. Last night. You said you’d explain everything.”

  He grunts. “Yeah, I planned on it, but then you decided to test my wild side. To focus—on getting out of here—you need to keep that part of you in check.” He pauses, then adds, “Maybe you’ll feel better after you eat and sleep. Tomorrow I’ll tell you everything. Until then, get some rest.”

  Chapter Seven

  A concrete floor isn’t the nicest place to relax, but neither is a room where the walls are molded from excess water leakage, and where rats eat away at God-knows-what all night long. Chew, chew, chew. Munch, munch, munch.

  Ben never brought me anything to sleep on, cover up with, or eat, so I’ve sat against this frozen stone wall for hours, freezing my ass off, because apparently the heat doesn’t work down here. Not the best way to detain company; if they want my power, they need to keep my alive first. I’ll be useless to them if I’m dead.

  With sunlight beaming through various cracks in the upper walls and a single window, I assess how tough it’ll be to escape from here. I can transform and bust down these borders, but odds are, they’re reinforced. And since there isn’t enough room for me to fit through the gap, I’ll have to work out another method.

  I don’t have time to consider my getaway as the door upstairs swings open, slamming against the wall with a flat thud.

  “Wakey, wakey!” shouts Ethan, leisurely taking each step down the landing. “Brought you something special.”

  I’m so excited to have food that I forget who I’m dealing with. Before I have a chance to ask what it is, he chucks a boiling cup of coffee at me, scalding my face, neck and arms. I cry out, quickly trying to remove the hot substance from my body before it causes blisters.

  Ethan laughs with intent, bending over at the waist, unable to restrain himself. “Funniest damn thing I’ve seen in a while. Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” He turns then, leaving.

  One thing I’ve missed the past few months has made its comeback.

  Adrenaline. Screaming loud and proud underneath my skin. Fighting its way through my blood and pulsing inside my skull. A few months ago, I wasn’t a werewolf. I didn’t have raging strength or a colossus appetite or the ability to sense someone’s emotions. I was normal and still kicked ass.

  So now, when I glare at Ethan, all I see is a black channel around my line of sight, and my body changes on its own. My limbs and features lengthen and bow, fur grows like a second skin, and I’m on all fours before I recognize what’s happened. I growl at him through my newly-enlarged, razor-sharp teeth, just to see the look on his face, just to see if I can scare him senseless.

  God, this feels good.

  In response, though, he changes, countering me. I back away from the stairs, allowing him space, and the time to come down to ground level. We square off, one on each side of the room. Although his build is heavier than mine, I have no doubt that I can take him. I won before, so who’s to say I can’t do it again?

  Ethan makes the first move during my moment of thought. He bounds across the enclosed area with two giant leaps, teeth aiming for my throat. I skid out of his path, off to the side, just narrowly missing him. He snaps and growls, lips raised, a thin layer of foam coating his lower jowls. But he doesn’t budge from the same spot, like he’s waiting for me to continue the fight. With no way of communicating, we don’t have speech or vacant threats. This is an entirely new level of combat.

  Honoring his request, I launch myself at him. I’m not sure which way is up or down; all I know is that Ethan’s incisors penetrate my skin repeatedly. Even the tiny nips sting. Just as I’m about to give up, I spin around before he can catch me, biting into the flesh just above his shoulders. He releases a drawn-out yelp, but rolls over so that his backside is lying on top of my snout. I have no alternative but to release him, as my hold on his skin has weakened. While I attempt to regain my footing, he staggers to one corner of the room, turns around, and then barrels into my side, knocking me over and pinning me to the cold, dingy floor with one monster paw digging into my coat. He silences me by a single snarl expelled from his chops.

  Cameron and Ben, followed by their parents, rush through the doorway above us, all staring at the commotion below.

  “What the hell is going on down here?” yells Mr. Conway, bounding down the stairs behind Cameron and Ben. He pushes aside his two sons to gawk at the third, who has yet to forfeit his hold over me. “I leave you with one damn
task and you can’t even do that correctly?” Mr. Conway glares at Ethan for a matter of minutes. Everyone else in the room bows their heads, and I wonder if they’re communicating, if Ethan is receiving a mental smack down from his father. He should’ve just given me the food instead of making everything so difficult.

  Finally relocating from his stance over me, Ethan morphs back into his human form. Clothes appear as if they were never torn from his body, and I can only guess magic is being used. Never mind the fact that I have to turn back into my other half, leaving myself exposed.

  “Sorry,” mumbles Ethan.

  “Sorry?” Mr. Conway’s terse voice makes me wince. “Sorry’s not good enough. No more.” He shakes his head, waving one hand back and forth in the air to match the movement. “No more tasks for you. If you can’t complete something as simple as this without putting her life in danger, then you’re useless. How many times have we gone over the plan, Ethan? We have to keep her alive until she comes into her power, then you two can scrap all you want.”

  “I wasn’t planning on killing her, just keeping her in check.” Ethan’s excuse for attacking me with breakfast is pathetic, really. All he wanted was revenge.

  Mr. Conway reaches Ethan in three long strides, which brings them nose to nose. “You know what he wants us to do,” he hisses. “We can’t go against his will. Think of the repercussions for all involved if that takes place.”

  Ethan drops his head like the others. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

  His father doesn’t reply, except with his finger pointed toward the stairs. Ethan follows that imaginary line and disappears into the house above.

  “Benjamin, see to it she’s taken care of,” says Mr. Conway. The rest trail him beyond the basement. Cameron scowls at me before vanishing with the others.

  “Are you okay?” Ben asks, crouching. He examines my wounds, lightly running his fingers over certain marks. I recoil every time he touches me. “C’mon. Let’s clean you up.” He stands, waiting for me to follow. I’ve been lying here, inert, since Ethan knocked me over.

  Listening to him, I roll onto all fours. Sparks travel through my essence and numb me throughout. Tingling courses from my fingertips to my shoulders, and from my toes to my head, as the effect of being a werewolf wears off. Just as Ethan magically outfitted himself, the same happens to me.