A Cursed Moon

by Cecy Robson

  I stripped out of my flannel shirt and tensed my muscles so they bulged. “How ’bout we chuck the rules and say anything goes?” A loud murmur spread around the crowd. “And how about the first one who gets knocked out loses?” Murmurs morphed into excited shouts. Aric just stood grinning like an idiot. Dumb shit didn’t know what he was in for.

  “Fine, Bren, we’ll play it your way. Just to make it interesting, the loser—that would be you—has to do anything the winner—me—wants. Are we clear?”

  “Damn straight. Ready when you are, hero.”

  Aric advanced. “Take your best shot.”

  “How about my best kick?” I led with my foot to the outside of Aric’s knee. As he sidestepped away from my fake kick, I caught him with a left cross to the nose. He winced. I winked.

  “Damn shame you punch like a girl.” He landed a spinning heel kick to the side of my forehead when I lurched forward.

  I staggered back and grunted. “Lucky kick, asshole.”

  We circled each other with our eyes locked, looking for an opening to attack. Around us the young wolves chanted, “fight, fight, fight, fight,” reminding me of the good ole days on the playground.

  Aric attacked first with a jab. I blocked it but couldn’t stop his knee from jamming into my ribs or his elbow that slammed into my chin. I went down. Aric followed, but I surprised him with my speed, meeting his jaw with a right cross.

  “Oh. I’m sorry, sweet cheeks. Did that hurt?”

  Aric responded with a spinning back kick into my solar plexus. I stepped back to catch my breath, but Jet Li continued with a spinning back fist into my temple and followed with a hammer fist to my forehead. For a moment, I thought my brain had actually fallen out of my skull. I shook my head to try to clear it.

  Okay . . . that got my attention. When brawn failed, it paid to rely on strategy. Time to get a little dirty. “So, Aric, have you talked to Celia lately?”

  A united gasp spread throughout the crowd, followed by a deafening silence. Even the damn birds in the trees stopped chirping.

  Aric paused, shooting me a death glare hot enough to singe.

  Liam cut through the mob of students. “Bren, I wouldn’t mention her name if I were you.”

  Koda clasped Liam’s arm and pulled him back to the edge of the circle. “Let him talk, Liam. We’ll see just how far his mouth gets him.”

  My head jerked around, like I had no clue whom Liam meant. “Mention whose name? Oh! Do you mean Celia, his ex-girlfriend who’s now shacking up with a vampire?”

  Aric’s deep growl rumbled low into his chest. “I’m warning you, Bren, don’t go there. She’s not here to save your pathetic ass.”

  Heh, heh, heh. Am I getting to you, lover boy? “Oh, I know she’s not here, Aric. She’s busy with Misha.”

  Aric attempted an uppercut to my chin, but his fury made him sloppy and I drove my knee into his balls. He dropped like a chunk of granite. Heh, heh . . . a snarling chunk of granite.

  I stood over him and shook my head. “Sorry, Celia. . . . Well, then again it shouldn’t matter to her, now that she’s got Misha to help her out in that department—”

  “Oh!” The crowd yelled when Aric leaped up and nailed me in the face. Two of my teeth hit the grass like hail. I kicked his boys again—more out of instinct than tactic. He hunched over in agony. I spit out a lot of blood and about three more teeth. No worries, they’ll grow back in a few hours.

  Things were starting to go my way, so I decided to have a little more fun. “You probably heard that Celia is staying in Misha’s guesthouse. I heard the same thing, but I don’t believe it for a minute. If I know my boy Misha, Celia is probably with him right now—if you know what I mean.”

  Aric broke my nose with his fist then under-hooked my left shoulder and slammed me into the frozen ground. I choked, trying to breathe, and spit out more blood.

  Okay, now I’m pissed. I’d bled enough, now it was his turn. I staggered to my feet. “Nice one, Aric. Do you think that’s how Misha throws Celia on the bed every night?”

  My trash talk didn’t have the effect I wanted. When I charged, he flipped me onto the ground again. I whirled back to my feet—not wanting him to realize how bad he’d knocked the wind out of me. We faced each other again, circling with challenging stares.

  Enough is enough. Time for you to go down, you cocky son of a bitch. I prepared to take him out with my best move, but not before letting one last comment sink in. “So, do you think Celia screams out Misha’s name? You know, when they’re doing it like monkeys?”

  • • •

  I’m not sure how it happened exactly, but the world went black. When I opened my eyes a hell of a long time later, it was white and I couldn’t see a goddamn thing. It took me a moment to realize that it was because I had a note conveniently stapled to my forehead. It read:

  Dear Loser,

  From now on, you will be at the Den on time and ready to work. When you are here you will be respectful to my Warriors and to me, and you will abide by our ways. You will also be in charge of cleaning this bathroom you’re lying in by six o’clock every night for the next month.

  One more thing. Celia is my mate. If you ever disrespect her again, I’ll tear out your fucking throat.

  Sincerely,

  Aric Connor, aka Your Fearless Leader, who knocked the shit out of you

  I looked around. The place was an eyesore of black tile and chrome. It had seven stalls, seven separate urinals, and four showers. I swore up and down. When the hell am I going to learn to keep my mouth shut?

  I may have been an asshole, but I was an asshole who kept his word. It took me hours to clean the damn place. Didn’t anybody teach these little pukes how to aim? I was finishing up scrubbing the last urinal when a stampede echoed down the long corridor outside the bathroom. A pack of young wolves stormed in, occupying every last stall and urinal. Apparently they’d just finished dinner, and judging by the sounds and smell, chili had been on the menu.

  Liam, Koda, and Gemini roared with laughter outside the door as I let loose on the evil little bastards. “Hey! You better get your assess back in there and flush, you pricks. . . . You, aim for the hole, aim for the hole, don’t look at me—aim for the goddamn hole! Oh I know you assholes aren’t showering now. Everyone get the hell out. . . . I don’t give a shit if you’re not done, get the fuck out now!”

  Every last turd scrambled out leaving wads of toilet paper and dirty towels scattered across the muddy floor. I swore when I glanced at the wall clock and saw it was five-goddamn-thirty. Somehow, I was going to get the Warriors back for this.

  Chapter Two

  Three rolls of paper towels, a nasty scouring pad that needed to be lit on fire, and one destroyed mop later, my ass was finally done cleaning. I barreled down the steps and almost crashed into Celia’s younger sister, Emme.

  Her lids practically shot back into her skull and she clasped her hands over her mouth when she saw me. I didn’t have a clue what freaked her out until I remembered my teeth hadn’t finished growing back in. I greeted her with a nod of my chin and flashed her a hillbilly grin. “Wassup, Emme?”

  Emme reached to touch my hand from where I stood and led me down the steps like someone’s grandpa. “Oh, Bren. What happened?” She wrinkled that cute little nose of hers with all the menace of a Golden Retriever pup. “Tell me who did this to you.”

  “I got into a fight with another wolf. No big deal.”

  Her jaw popped opened. “Bren, it is a big deal. No one has a right to treat you this way. You should tell Aric right away so this lunatic doesn’t get away it!”

  I stopped grinning. “Ah, Emme, that’s not going to happen.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the lunatic was actually Aric,” I grumbled.

  Emme released my hands, the rising heat of her body flushing her fair skin pink.
“Bren . . . what did you do to make him so mad?”

  How come everyone always assumes it’s my fault?

  Emme didn’t wait for me to answer and led me down the long stretch of hall and into the kitchen. Someone must’ve been on galley duty, ’cause the stainless steel appliances and granite countertops shone to spotless perfection. Unlike the bathroom upstairs.

  Emme pulled out a chair and motioned for me to sit. She searched through the drawers until she found two kitchen towels. “Bren . . . Aric hasn’t been in pleasant spirits these past few months.”

  “No shit.”

  She smiled softly despite not being one to swear and ran water under a towel at the sink. “I don’t think you understand. What Celia and Aric shared was beautiful and rare, and something few get to experience.” She squeezed out the excess water before returning to where I waited at the table. With a sigh, she gently slid the towel along my face, paying close attention to the area around my mouth and nose. “Don’t be too hard on Aric. And please try to be a little more patient with him. He’s hurting. In some ways, I think he hurts more than Celia.”

  I scoffed. “That’s a hell of thing to say, seeing how he dumped your sister, knowing how much she loved him.”

  She stopped wiping and pulled back her hand, showing me the amount of dry blood she’d cleaned, with sadness dimming her gentle green eyes. “I’ll be honest. I don’t understand a lot about matehood. But I believe the wolves when they say it’s what bonds my sister and Aric. I saw how Celia and he were when they were together, and I see how they are now.” She offered me the dry towel. “They’re miserable, Bren. They are. And I’m convinced they’ll never know happiness apart.”

  “Which makes Aric more of an ass-hat for ending their relationship.”

  “Aric walked away, that’s true. But I think because of it, he has more of a cross to bear.” Emme played with her hands, appearing to think things through. “He knows he did this to them. The guilt alone is punishment enough, don’t you think?”

  “Nope.”

  Emme shook her head and a laugh like tinkling bells escaped her lips. “Oh, Bren, what will I ever do with you?”

  I waggled my shaggy brows at her. “Well, I do have a few minutes.”

  The blush returned to her cheeks and she lowered her gaze. “Liam is waiting for me upstairs. Let me help you heal before I leave.” Emme’s delicate fingers touched my face. I’d watched her tend to others before with her gift, but I’d never experienced her touch first hand. A gentle yellow light streamed from her fingertips, surrounding us both. It felt . . . nice . . . really nice, even when my jaw cracked as my new teeth found their home.

  She drew her hands back slowly and angled her chin to assess her work. Damn, she was pretty, soft blonde waves falling just past her shoulders and a splash of freckles across her nose. “Better?” she asked.

  “Ah, yeah, Em . . . that was. . . . Thanks, just thanks.” What the hell was wrong with me? Talk much, asshole?

  “You’re very welcome.” She looked up at the kitchen wall clock. “I’d better find Liam. If I’m even five minutes late he convinces himself that some evil monster ate me.” She embraced my neck, surprising me by not letting go right away and speaking with a voice heavy with sadness. “You know what I said about Celia and Aric’s love being rare and beautiful?”

  “Yeah?”

  “As much as it hurt them, every last smile, touch, and soft word was cherished. And I bet both would give anything to experience it again.” She sighed softly. “I wish Liam could love me that deeply.” She released me then, and slowly my arms slipped from her back. With a small wave, and an even smaller smile, she left kitchen.

  For some strange-ass reason, I was really hating Liam then.

  • • •

  On my way out of the building, I spotted a tall, leggy blonde carrying a couple of bags of takeout. She dressed like a slutty heiress—tight skirt hiked up high enough to crush her ovaries and a pink silk blouse skimpy enough to strain against her braless hooters. I recognized her as Aric’s fiancée. She’d shown up uninvited to Shayna and Koda’s wedding a few weeks ago and had caught Aric and Celia making out like a bunch of horny teens on the dance floor. She stopped short when she saw me and narrowed her amber eyes. “You’re that idiot, Brian, right? Celia Weird’s friend?”

  A slow, easy grin inched across my face. Sister, you just messed with the wrong wolf. “The name’s Bren. But you’re right; I am friends with Celia Wird. You’re Charlotte, aren’t you?”

  “My name is Barbara.”

  I grimaced, feigning embarrassment. “Sorry, didn’t know. Aric never mentions you.”

  Hey, Aric said I had to be respectful of him and his Warriors. He never mentioned being nice to this bitch.

  A scowl creased her face, revealing that ugly side the prima donna likely worked to keep hidden. She composed herself and licked her bright red lips. “I was just coming in to see my fiancée.” She lifted the bags and shook them in my face. “I brought him dinner from Stan’s Bar-B-Q.”

  I laughed.

  She dropped her hands, shuffling the contents of Aric’s dinner. “What’s so funny?”

  “You don’t cook, do you?”

  She lifted her chin. “So, what?”

  “So? Sweetheart, there’s two ways to snag a wolf—in the kitchen and in the bedroom. Celia managed both. She’d fix Aric meals like filet mignon stuffed with shrimp, and pineapple upside-down cheesecake.” I shrugged. “But I guess he needed the calories since he’d rush them to bed the moment he licked that last bit of whipped cream off her lips.”

  Whatever restraint she had cracked like a strike of lightning. She punched me hard across the face, jolting the new teeth Emme helped me grow in. I flexed my jaw and loomed over her. Unless she went for the kill, there’s no way I’d hit her back. I didn’t hit girls. Period. So instead I reeled my animal side in and leaned back on my heels, smiling wider. “Bottom line, I’ve never scented you on Aric. So you can’t cook.” I held out a finger. “And he obviously hasn’t rushed you to bed.” I added another finger and wiggled them at her. “Two strikes. You’re out, babe.”

  For several seconds all we did was breathe. She eyed my throat like she wanted a bite until she finally squared her shoulders and met my glare in challenge. “None of that matters, you ball-less little bastard. That tramp friend of yours is despised by our kind and long gone from Aric’s life. I’ll be his wife soon, and there’s not a goddamn thing you or she can do about it.” She circled me, paying close attention to the bloodstains on my flannel shirt and the rip in my jeans. “I’ll have a lifetime to learn how to cook for him and pleasure him in ways that bitch never could.” She whispered the last part in a low, satisfied voice. She thought she’d shut me up.

  She thought wrong.

  I shook my head. “Oh, I doubt you could achieve in a lifetime what Celia did for Aric in just a few months. The way I hear, they were always at it like wererabbits.”

  Her skin flushed, from the crease between her puny chest up to her face. But then she took a breath and surprised me by calming,—odd, considering she wanted to munch on my jugular seconds before. Hmm, I guess I have to work a little harder.

  “Aric has taken a vow of celibacy until we’re married, out of respect for me and our relationship,” she hissed. “Whatever disgusting whores he took before we met don’t matter. I’m his mate.”

  I chuckled and scratched my beard. “You don’t get it, do you? Aric won’t touch you because you’re not who he wants. This celibacy bullshit is just an excuse not to be with you until he absolutely has to. As far as Celia’s concerned, she’s not disgusting, she’s not a whore, but she is Aric’s mate.”

  This made her laugh pretty damn hard. She threw back her head and tossed back her long blonde hair. “Really? And where did you get that asinine idea, moron?”

  “Well . . .”—I r
eached in my back pocket and pulled out Aric’s note—“it says so right here,” I answered, pointing.

  • • •

  I jumped in my Mustang and texted Celia, telling her to meet me at her old house in Dollar Point. I couldn’t watch Dan embarrass himself that night on my own. My boy needed an audience—and a witness to prove he couldn’t get laid without me. I then hauled ass out of the Den, having had enough fun for the day. I munched on the food Charlotte brought for Aric on my way. She threw it in my face right before storming off to find him. As far as I was concerned, that was the same thing as telling me it was mine. It was good barbeque. Aric would have liked it.

  I chuckled to myself as I remembered her screams and growls blasting down the hall when she found him. The little missus was obviously not pleased.

  My Mustang roared into my girl’s small cul-de-sac like a lion on the prowl, kicking up the dry leaves the chilly fall breeze had spilled into the street and making them swirl in my headlights. A silver Lexus LFA hugged the curb. I huffed and rolled my eyes, guessing that must’ve been Celia’s assigned vamp-mobile. The vamps sucked serious ass. I wasn’t cool with how Misha was trying to win her over. At least I knew Celia couldn’t be bought.

  Celia hadn’t replied to my text telling her to meet me here. But her presence told me she’d received it. Strange, though, unless she was busy disemboweling some wicked bastard, she usually texted right back.

  I jumped out and ambled toward the blue Colonial. Mrs. Mancuso, the girls’ elderly neighbor, was sweeping her front steps by the light of her lawn jockey’s lantern, a freak-ass little statue with bright red pants and a lazy eye. Despite the late hour she brushed her little broom back and forth with quick precise motions, even though any sap could have eaten off of the wooden steps as they were. She was probably bored, and lonely. The Wird sisters seemed to be her only form of entertainment.