The Lunar Secret (The Ayla St. John Chronicles Book 3)

by C. J. Pinard

  But… it was nighttime. The darkness, protection, and safety of the night had descended, and really, they had no reason to be holed up here now. Perhaps they were just out? I pulled the flashlight from my jacket pocket and clicked it on.

  If I was a smart blonde instead of a dumb one, I’d come here during daylight hours and see if I could catch one or all of them. And once I caught them, I would… what? Kill them? Interrogate them? I wasn’t sure, but I did know that since Alexander had been such an irresponsible supernatural, part of me feared that there were others like him. Poorly trained and unsupervised while being new, and endangering humans. I was still pissed off at his dead ass for causing the death of his own damn child.

  Deciding I was being silly and irrational, I sighed as I slid the dagger into my thigh holster and walked to the elevator. Obviously, the vamps who had once squatted in here had moved on, and I was just hunting ghosts.

  I punched the button, and the elevator door opened with a ding, and as it did, I realized that I should probably take the stairs down. Elevators were dangerous—you’re trapped with nowhere to go for an unknown amount of time, so they should be avoided. I shook my head at my lazy foolishness, and turned to make my way to the stairwell.

  I twisted the handle to enter the stairwell, and swung the door open. As I made my way to the first step, my foot never reached it, as something hard slammed into my back and I found myself falling over and over down the concrete steps.

  I ended up in a heap on the landing, my lungs burning as I tried to draw in breath. I didn’t have time to do that, though, because pain exploded on the back of my head as it slammed onto the ground. With my eyes wide with fear and rage, instinctively grabbed for my dagger in its thigh holster.

  Sitting on my chest was a terrifyingly beautiful female, her long, dark hair covering half her face as she smiled down at me. She had on a leather motorcycle jacket with a patch of some kind on the sleeve. The irises of her eyes were red, and they reminded me of the priest I had visited at St. Matthew’s church right after he’d blessed my dagger. But his had only flashed red. This creature’s eyes seemed to be permanently crimson.

  “You and your friends have been snooping around my lair, haven’t you?” she said, sneering down at me with her fangs poking out.

  Struggling for breath, I narrowed my eyes at this crazy vampire. “Lair? Seriously?” I attempted to laugh. “You’re…” I tried to draw in air, and tried to buck my hips to get her off me. It didn’t work. I was attempting to tell her I knew who she was. I knew she was Fiona McGrann, my latest target. “Thank you…” I sucked in a breath. “For turning yourself in—”

  She laughed in my face and slammed her hips down, causing the rest of my breath to leave me. “What were you saying, wolf-bitch?”

  Stars began to dance in my vision, and I knew I had seconds before I passed out. I reached for the dagger again, but her thigh blocked me from doing so. I cursed myself for having put the weapon away to begin with.

  “Kellan, please help…”

  I had no idea if he could hear me, but I knew once I passed out, I would be done for. The vampire lifted her razor-sharp claws, which I realized were nothing more than a fancy black-painted stiletto-shaped manicure. But they were definitely as sharp as they looked as she dragged one down my cheek. I screamed as I could feel the hot sting of blood pool on my face where she was leaving a mark.

  I remembered a video they had shown us in high school about what do it if you were attacked by a rapist. They actually suggested vomiting if you could, as that would definitely surprise the attacker and would give you enough time to run. I didn’t think I could without putting my finger into my throat, and in all honesty, I hadn’t vomited in this form since before the wolf curse was triggered, so that could be tricky. But… some loud gagging noises probably wouldn’t hurt.

  I concentrated on the pain in my face as she continued to talk. “Where’s Alex, huh? He’s mine. I know you want him. I heard you and your Scooby gang came here looking for him.” She laughed at her stupid joke.

  I began to cough and then make loud, exaggerated gagging noises.

  Her face turned serious and she eased up off me just enough for me to draw a big breath and cough some more.

  “What the hell are you doing?” she asked, staring at me in horror.

  I made louder gagging noises. “Oh, God, I’m gonna puke,” I said dramatically.

  She lifted up further off of me, but not all the way, and then fisted a handful of my ponytail. “I know who you are, Ayla St. John. You’re gonna tell me where Alex is, or else I’m going to torture it out of you.”

  I ignored that pain and realized I could get to my dagger. I pushed my hand under her thigh and slid it out of its holster. Lightning fast, I slammed it into her leg and she screamed so loud my ears rang.

  I bucked her off and went to grab the dagger, but she snatched my hand that was around the hilt and used it to pull it out herself. She still had hold of my hair so I slapped her across the face as hard as I could.

  She wanted to pull hair like this was some kind of cat-fight? Then I was gonna slap a bitch.

  “You little cunt,” she seethed. “I’m gonna kill you.”

  I laughed at her. “Okay, well you had your chance. Give me my fucking knife.”

  She let go of my hair and used her other hand to begin to twist my right hand that had the dagger. It was now free of her leg, a big red spot beginning to blossom over the light-blue denim of her thigh, but she seemed impervious to the injury—probably because it was already healing. I knew from the information Evan had sent me that she was about a hundred years old and probably had super-healing.

  The pain was getting worse in my hand. She was using both hers to twist my wrist and I realized it was about to break. I pushed against her, resisting her. I was right-handed and if she broke it, I would be screwed.

  “Kellan, please… I’m in the office building where Alexander was. Beckett knows the place… please…”

  He never replied, so I was sure he couldn’t hear me.

  I cried out as the bones in my wrist began to make cracking sounds.

  “Get your filthy hands off me, you bitch!” I yelled into her face and then gritted my teeth.

  When my wrist finally snapped, Fiona smiled, but I screamed out and dropped the dagger. Before she could grab it, though, I immediately rolled onto my right side and she fell backward. I was now covering the dagger with my body, my wrist exploding with pain as I lay on it. She grabbed my ponytail and used it to lift me off the ground. With her fangs bared, she wrenched my head to the side and stared at the rapidly beating carotid in my neck.

  “Don’t even think about biting me, you nasty leech!” I growled.

  Besides the pain, I was angry. I could feel my blood heating up, and it felt like I was going to change. My eyes began to turn yellow, and I knew this because my vision changed. It was always somewhat sharper with a strange reddish hue around the edges when I was the wolf-girl. My adversary went wide-eyed briefly, but then just started to laugh. She reached up and backhanded me across the face so hard, I saw stars float behind my eyelids. But I didn’t fall down because she still had hold of my hair.

  “Put your filthy wolf away, we’re not playing these games, whore. Tell me where Alexander is and maybe I’ll leave you with only a broken hand.”

  That pissed me off. Being hit in the face or hit in the head, for whatever reason, always caused an instantaneous rage to burn through me. I was cradling my broken wrist and willing it to heal while I decided how I would reach my dagger on the ground. I needed to stall.

  “Let go of my fucking hair and I’ll tell you where he is. You have got to be the worst interrogator ever,” I said, laughing through my pain. I felt a warm trickle on my mouth and I darted my tongue out to swipe away the blood on my cheek without breaking eye contact.

  She tightened her grip on my hair. “No.”

  “You need to let go. It’s making me very angry, which is bring
ing out the wolf. Do you want to get bit by my wolf? Because I promise you, it won’t be pleasant. You might turn into hybrid freak. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me and chuckled, but her stare remained red and cold. “You think I’d let you bite me? You really are one stupid little girl, aren’t you?”

  Risking practically having my hair ripped out, I decided I’d had enough of this lady. I raised my leg, and with my boot, I kicked her right in her lady parts as hard as I could. She screeched as she let go of my ponytail, and I squealed in joy. I ducked quickly before she could swing at me and snatched the bloodied dagger from the concrete with my left hand.

  She was too fast, though, because in a blur, she tackled me and we now found ourselves in the same position we’d been in just a couple short minutes earlier. I was on my back, and she was straddling me. With a face filled with rage, and her frightening red eyes, she yanked my hair at the temples, as it was already halfway falling out of the elastic tie anyway, and used my hair like handles to slam my head against the concrete floor with each word. “Where. Is. Alex. Von. Brass. You. Stupid. Bitch!” She screamed the last part into my face, and after half a dozen blows to the back of my head, I was fading fast—again.

  “He’s dead! I riiiipped his head off slowly and then threw it in the lake.” A crazed expression now masked my face, I was sure. “And you can go to hell and join him, you ugly bitch,” I replied, laughing without humor.

  A mask of shock and what almost looked like sadness or grief overtook her face, and I took that opportunity to raise the dagger in my left hand and plunge it into her chest. She screamed and reached for it, managing to pull it out only an inch or two before her face began to pale, then turn gray, and then begin to crumble, along with the rest of her. But I didn’t see any more, as my vision began to blur and then turn black, and then there was nothing.

  Chapter 9

  The pain in my head registered before the pain in my hand did. They were dull, throbbing, annoying aches, but enough to demand attention. I blinked my eyes open and couldn’t figure out where I was. The ceiling was white and smooth, but had a faint orange flicker from candles I could smell burning somewhere in the room. The red tapestry cocooning the bed I lay on was rich velvet with gold accents. The mattress was incredibly luxurious and soft, and the matching comforter on top of me was heavy and soothing. I’d quickly deduced that I had been murdered by that vampire, and was now in heaven, because I had been a good person after all.

  But… all those years in Sunday School came crashing back to my brain… there was not supposed to be pain in heaven, and I definitely was not feeling all that great. I groaned and tried to sit, but a heavy hand on my shoulder prevented me from doing so.

  “Shh, little wolf. No need to get excited. You need to heal.” Then, a warm kiss was pressed to my forehead.

  I looked up to see Kellan’s perfectly handsome face, and realized I probably wasn’t in heaven, but maybe something close to it. I curved my lips into a grin. “Hi.”

  “Hi, beautiful. You did good,” he said quietly.

  My brow furrowed, and I tried to sit up again. This time, Kellan stood up and helped me to sit up.

  “Good… how?” I asked on a whisper, adjusting myself to try to get comfortable.

  “You killed her. You survived, love,” he replied quietly, brushing some hair from my face.

  “Oh… Oh, my God! She’s dead?” I asked with a gasp.

  He nodded. “She is. Who was she?”

  “Fiona something. Alexander’s maker,” I murmured, then put my good hand on my forehead. So much throbbing.

  “Sir?” We both looked over as a short man with blond hair and pale skin poked his head in.

  “Jeffrey, we are good.”

  He threw a glance at me, then nodded at Kellan. “Very well. Call if you need me.”

  Without turning to look at him, Kellan nodded. “Will do.”

  Once Jeffrey had closed the large, heavy-looking door with a click, I looked at my favorite vampire. “Friend of yours?”

  He chuckled. “Yes, a very old friend.”

  I wanted to ask him about Jeffrey, and how he knew him, and a million other questions, but I was too tired.

  “How…” I swallowed hard and realized my throat was extremely parched. “How did you find me?”

  Kellan smiled at me, but with a look of momentary confusion. “Well, you called to me.”

  “I did. But you didn’t reply. I didn’t think you could hear me.” I reached up and lightly touched my temple where Fiona had grabbed my hair and had probably yanked some out. I winced, as it was tender there.

  “I did tell you I was on my way. You didn’t hear me?” he asked, grabbing my hand and caressing it with his thumb.

  I shook my head. “Not at all. Maybe it was after I passed out.”

  He nodded slightly and furrowed his brow, but quickly recovered with a comforting grin. “When I found you in the stairwell, you were covered in a mess. The vampire’s ashes were everywhere. Jeffrey and I got rid of as much as we could, but they were still all over. We quickly loaded you into the SUV and brought you here. A warm bath and a little scrub with a sponge and some soap, and you were good as new. I just got concerned when you still wouldn’t wake up—”

  I put a hand up. “Wait. You and that guy”—I pointed to the door—“bathed me?” I couldn’t hide the mortification in my voice.

  Kellan smiled. “No, I washed you. Jeffrey just found you some clothes.”

  I looked down at myself and realized I was in a soft blue flannel nightgown with pink roses all over it. It was hideous, but comfortable as hell.

  “Give Jeff my regards,” I said dryly, realizing what was done was done, and it wasn’t like Kellan hadn’t seen me naked before.

  “Jeff,” he said, chuckling. “Nobody’s ever called him that before.”

  I stared at him flatly. “You’re joking.”

  He laughed again and shook his head. “I am not.”

  He picked up my hand again, and I winced as I hissed in a breath. “Careful.”

  Kellan’s carefree smile fell. “Why? Is your hand injured?”

  I nodded. “Yeah… bitch broke my wrist after I stabbed her in the leg.”

  He lifted it to his mouth and gingerly kissed it. “You will heal. But you need blood.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Jeffrey,” Kellan called out. The pale man appeared at the door after a quick, sharp knock to alert us he was coming inside the room.

  “Sir?”

  “A bag of O-positive, please?”

  He nodded. “Right away.”

  “Thank you.”

  I started at Kellan. “You keep bags of blood here? I thought you preferred it straight from the tap.”

  He grinned, his handsome face giving me all kind of butterflies. “For emergencies.”

  “Well, I don’t need it. You could, uh, give me some of yours, though.” I couldn’t believe I suggested it, but I did know vampire blood would heal me so much faster.

  He smiled. “I already did. Just not sure how much you consumed, though, as we kind of had to force it down your throat.”

  I groaned as I sat up, realizing I was feeling better by the minute. “Let’s try again.”

  He frowned. “You don’t have fangs.”

  “Well,” I grinned, “you do.”

  He sucked in a breath and nodded. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly rolled up the sleeve of his light-blue dress shirt and I watched with fascination as his fangs slowly descended and his eyes changed from crystal-blue to almost black. He slowly and gently pierced his wrist. Blood began to flow, but instead of putting it to my mouth, he sucked it out with his own, and then he leaned in to me and I opened up for him. He dribbled his blood into my mouth and I swallowed, hating to admit how good it tasted. Once I’d swallowed it, he still had his lips on mine and he began to kiss me. His unique taste, combined with the sweet blood, was sexy as hell and was definite
ly waking me up.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d done this, and I hoped it wouldn’t be the last. When we’d first met, he’d bitten a willing human and had shared her blood with me. It was hot then, and was still just as erotic now. He broke the kiss and looked into my eyes, his now back to their normal color. I looked down at his wrist, and it was already healing, but he’d made a mess on the blanket. I lifted his wrist to my mouth and began to lick the remaining blood there on the quickly closing wounds.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured as we locked eyes while my tongue was on his wrist.

  A knock on the door interrupted us, and I quickly pulled away from his arm.

  “Come in,” Kellan called out.

  “I’m so sorry to impose,” Jeffrey said as he opened the door. He cleared his throat as red flush creeped up his face.

  “No worries. You can leave the bag there,” Kellan said, pointing to a dresser against the far wall.

  Jeffrey did as he was instructed. “Call if you need anything further.”

  “Thank you, Jeff,” Kellan replied, but was staring at me with mischief in his eyes.

  The butler—if that was what he was—paused for a minute and then closed the door behind him with a nod.

  I chuckled. “I’m a bad influence.”

  He shook his head. “I love it when you’re bad.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

  He nodded. “How are you feeling?”

  “Much better,” I said honestly, realizing my head and wrist were just a minor ache now. I was still tired, and wondered how much sleep I’d had.

  “What time is it?” I asked.