Blood Moon Magic

by Isobelle Carmichael

  The man begins to make an odd choking noise like a cross between a scream and a cry. It’s not pretty.

  “Ugh, did he just piss on the floor? You’re kidding me,” Kaleb jeers in disbelief.

  I glance down, and sure enough, a small river of urine is trekking its way towards my boots from the man in question.

  “I’ll tell you; I’ll tell you.”

  “That was depressingly easy,” I remark and crouch down looking at him expectantly.

  I listen as he describes the den home location and forms a mental photo in my mind.

  I shove the man away from me in disgust, and he starts crying. If I didn’t have the brave women of the Dama de Noche as a previous example, I’d be seriously turned off to the idea of mating with a wolf. The weakness displayed here is unparalleled and unacceptable. These men and women should have chosen to die before revealing the location of their home. I wipe my hands on my pants as if I can clean the stink of sadness and failure off me and stand up from my crouched position.

  Justin comes in with a much better-looking Marcus and glances at me with a question on his face. I nod at in affirmation.

  We have a location.

  “Shaun, can you drive?” he asks me, and his decision only confirms his calmer state of mind.

  “Of course,” I catch the keys he throws at me and move to exit the bar.

  “Feel free to warn them,” I call out to the remaining Death Claws standing around as I walk through the broken door, “we could all use a good fight.”

  I hop into the driver’s seat and the rest of my clan piles inside.

  “I’m going to have to use some magic to verify the den location, so if you see my strength waning, pull me out of my trance,” Justin says, preparing himself for the spell.

  “Oh, and Shaun.” He looks at me, and I can tell the monster is still just barely leashed. “I request first blood.”

  “Well, it should actually be Marcus,” I object, “Since he was ...”

  Marcus cuts me off, “I bequeath the rights of first blood to Justin Saunders of the Wyvern Clan,” he says, speaking the precise words that grant Justin the right to draw blood from anyone who’s harmed our mate. Abigail is ours, she hasn’t made it official, but there is no going back now.

  “Come on guys. We have a princess to rescue,” Kaleb jokes.

  “You know I’m going to tell her you said that and then watch her kick your ass,” Justin says, and a small smile splits his face.

  I thank the Elders for the twins. Without them we would never know half the laughter we share, they are literal fucking sunshine, but Abigail—she’s our heart.

  “Oh, Kaleb. She’s totally gonna kill you for thinking she needs to be rescued.”

  “Ugh, please don’t tell her. It was a joke,” he pleads, and I laugh again. The look on his face is priceless.

  “She’s a badass alpha and has probably already rescued herself,” he adds.

  “If it’s any consolation, I’ll tell her you said that, too,” Justin says, a small grin spreading across his face.

  “Guys we may have a location, but I have bad news. Their den is warded, so we’re not going to be able to just roll up in there and cause massive destruction. It’s going to take us some time to break down their barrier.”

  I punch the roof of the car and bellow in rage, “What the fuck do you mean, Justin?”

  “I have to gather the right ingredients and find a spell that will bring down their magical wards.” He pulls at the collar of his t-shirt, eyes downcast as he speaks.

  “What happens if we just burst in?” Kaden questions.

  “Well, I’m pretty sure we’d die,” he answers.

  “Why the fuck didn’t we keep one of the minions we had in our grasp?” Kaleb growls.

  “Come on. You guys know the magic would sense someone’s duress and refuse to obey.”

  “Fuck!” I scream, slamming my hands on the dashboard. “Then let’s go and find what we need, preferably without alerting Megan to what’s going on. I don’t want to put her in the position of having to decide whether to go to war against the Death Claws. I want to do everything we can to fix this ourselves if possible. It’s just our luck she’s out of the den right now. Megan will be livid once she finds out we lost her daughter. ”

  “This isn’t just about pride, Shaun. I know this is our fault, and I’m behind you one hundred percent. But, promise me, if shit goes sideways, we’ll call in reinforcements, including Megan.

  I put the car in reverse and speed towards our den; I guess we should meet up with Chey’s mates and form a plan of attack.

  “If we save her before Megan gets back, then she’ll be less likely to kill us. Don’t you think? But I promise, if we can’t fix this we’ll ask for her help.”

  As I began to think more reasonably, my strategic abilities surface. Justin and Marcus can take care of the magic while the twins and I work on the battle plan.

  If you can hear me, Abby, we’re coming.

  Her mental shields are locked up tight, and I don’t know if it’s a good or bad thing, so I ignore it. I can’t think about what’s happening to her. It scatters my thought patterns too much.

  When we arrive at the den, I jump out of the vehicle and slam the door. I’m barely inside the doorway before I see the three men Cheyenne has Claimed. If their red faces and heaving breaths are anything to judge by, they’re livid and already know that she’s been taken. I slip back into my alpha shoes and order them to join us in Abby’s rooms before they give themselves away to the rest of the wolves around the den who are still unaware.

  Once we’re all out of sight, I begin a strategy session.

  “Alright guys, how do we get our women back without going to war?” I ask the group of men after entering Abby’s suite of rooms. It feels so wrong to be here without her. Her scent lingering on the cushions makes my cock hard, and it’s a totally inappropriate reaction to be having. The hormones that rule us don’t care about convenience.

  Down, boy.

  “Why are we avoiding a war exactly?” Pierce questions. His jaw is clenched so hard I can see his heart beating through the pulse in his veins.

  “That’s a really good question,” Justin agrees.

  Seven sets of eyes bore into me, and I swallow hard. I’m having a hard time not agreeing as well, but it’s not up to me. If it were, my mouth would already be filled with the coppery taste of blood from my enemies.

  “It’s not my call. The only way to officially declare war would be if an alpha were to do so, and Megan is gone. I could call my father, but what if he won’t declare war for us? You know how he is.”

  My fists are clenched at my side, and I know he won’t do this. “The life of one is never more important than the life of the many, Shaun. That is the first lesson of becoming an alpha.” I can practically hear his voice in my head now.

  My desire to be alpha has decreased significantly. It’s not that I don’t care about my people, but for me, the helm of leadership has always felt uncomfortable. Watching Abby leading with an effortless grace really put things into perspective for me. I wonder how my father would handle my request to combine our packs when the time comes.

  “Justin, how long until you can get what we need to breach the Death Claws’ magical barrier, and how much help do you need?”

  “It would be easier if we could pull in Abby’s aunt. She has access to most of what we would need, but Abby’s mother is a problem.”

  I nod because he’s right. She’s going to try to skin us alive as it is when she finds out that her daughter was kidnapped on our watch.

  Pierce speaks up, “We can get what we need without informing the entire pack of what’s happening, and we’re going to need to if you’re still trying to avoid an all-out clan war.”

  “Why don’t we just ask Chey’s parents?” This comes from Marcus. “Abby’s mother might be distracted enough with pack responsibilities not to notice, but Chey’s parents will notice she is miss
ing.”

  “True. Her parents would notice, and they would have the supplies,” I agree.

  The rest of the meeting goes as smoothly as one could expect with eight volatile dragons whose mates are in peril. But, at the end of it, we have a plan and a way to get our mate back. An evil grin spreads along my face at the thought of the bloodshed to come. I haven’t been a fan of the Death Claws for a long ass time, and they have what’s coming to them. We can’t kill anyone outright, but the rules don’t stop us from causing a fuckload of trouble, and that is exactly what I’m going to do. I just hope we can get Abby home before her mom is back from whatever pack business she’s handling.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Ronnie

  “Wake up little slut; it’s time for another lesson.”

  The voice jolts me out of my uneasy sleep. Lacerating pain radiates through my body, and then I remember—I’m in the Death Claw dungeon. Ice-cold air floats over my skin, wrapping me in its cool caress, as the fire of my wounds plays tug of war with my consciousness.

  My nipples are tight buds from the cold and cracked from abuse. I look down at my naked body, noting the purple and black constellations that mar my skin. I have no recollection of how long the abuse has been going on. Usually, I’m blindfolded, bound, and kept locked away when I’m not being used for someone’s enjoyment.

  “This one is my favorite,” I hear in a low rasp, his voice grating on me. It’s the voice I’ve heard for …hours? Days? I can’t remember, but he’s a demon, and he’s stealing my soul.

  I try to make out the figures shadowed in the corner, but my vision is blurry. I blink a few times trying to switch to my wolf’s eyesight, but she’s not cooperating.

  Fucking silver. It’s messing up my ability to access my wolf, and I’m too weak to bring her to the surface on my own.

  “She’s such a screamer, and I love how quickly she heals,” the demon chuckles.

  “Yeah, she’s pretty strong,” a second voice adds, almost hesitantly. I don’t know this voice. I have committed the sounds to memory of everyone who’s violated me since I walked willingly into this hellhole. I can’t help but wonder who it is and if they are here to join in on the demon’s fun.

  “Get her ready. I want to go again. If I don’t get her before Nathaniel comes down, I’ll have to wait. Last time he broke her, it took forever before she was ready to go again.”

  The voices come closer, and my body tenses, only adding a new layer of agony. I beg for the darkness of oblivion, but it doesn’t come.

  I’m yanked off the table and I can feel the newly formed scabs on my back ripping open as I am roughly tied spread-eagle to a St. Andrew’s Cross. I remember the name of the device from a girl’s night, one of the few I actually attended. We watched a movie about a billionaire and his unsuspecting new secretary. It’s not shaped like a cross at all, but more like an X marks the spot. A blindfold is pulled too tightly around my eyes cutting deeply into my face. I want to cry out, but I don’t dare. I have learned. I wait for the gag to be shoved into my mouth forcing my jaw to open. I detest the drool it causes: the way it drips down my chest, the gagging sensation and utter humiliation as tears stream down my face, but the gag doesn’t come.

  “I want to hear your screams, Ronnie; they turn me on so much,” the voice says in my ear, licking the rim and sucking my earlobe deeply in his mouth.

  “You’re so sexy when you scream.” The soft slide of shoes on concrete alert me that he’s moved behind me, and I brace myself waiting for the pain. Wetness drips down my thighs, and I realize it’s my blood. The cuts and abrasions bleeding on my back have finally leaked their way down to my thighs. The copper scent of my blood fills the air, and I catch a whiff of the rancid smell of infection.

  In my moment of distraction, it begins. I hear the whistle of the whip signaling its arrival right before the pain. I experience the searing agony of each lash breaking into my skin, and blood dripping down my back steadily as the pain overwhelms me. If I pass out, he wakes me up, so I can enjoy each devastatingly awful moment. I curse my healing gift, as that voice that says I’m their favorite laughs. I am a toy that can be broken over and over again and born anew, only to be broken the next day like some fucked up phoenix. I whimper when his lips graze my ear, the heat of his breath sending waves of revulsion through me.

  “Veronica, you’re so stupid,” he hisses, “you really believed that you could betray your pack, and we would trust you?”

  He’s right though; I did think that before Abby healed me. She never admitted it, but I know it was her. I felt this magic come over me and it cleansed my soul, and when she came up to me afterward, I knew it was her magic that did it. I was fucking stupid. The person I was before almost makes me feel like this punishment is deserved. I was so bitter; so full of hate and jealousy.

  After the Claiming ceremony, we all gathered in our den’s living room. I sat there staring at Abby’s men and wishing for their deaths. They were so attractive, but any attempts that I made to draw their attention to myself were ignored. All they saw was Abigail, the fucking pack princess. No matter, I had been feeling particularly smug about the plans the Death Claws had finalized with me. I gave them the information they needed to capture her and Cheyenne, and they gave me a chance to Claim one of their men. Not my first choice, but I am thirty-seven, and I knew they laughed at me for not Claiming anyone the first time around.

  A few weeks later, I was sitting in the den, feeling utterly alone, even though I was surrounded by my pack. I know these women don’t like me. That they laugh at me behind my back. Calling me desperate, and worse. Petty, jealous bitches. That’s okay; they’ll get what’s coming to them, I thought to myself. Especially Chey and Abby; those two are in for a surprise. A genuine smile lit up my face as I thought about the plan I’d set in motion. I’ll have a mate of my own soon enough. That was the thought that consumed me at the time.

  All of a sudden, I felt a warmth coating me like caramel; thick and delicious. Then as the minutes passed, it literally felt like my soul was becoming lighter. When Abby came up to me later that day, I hugged her. I had never felt so amazing, and it seemed the change was permanent. When the sickening realization of what I’d done hit me, I tried to back out of my pact with the Death Claws. But with the information already given, there was nothing I could do. I refused to give up and gave it one last shot, deciding an in-person visit might yield better results.

  When I realized I’d failed, it was too late to do anything else. I was thrown into the dungeon. They stripped me of everything, including my clothes and phone. I couldn’t make the call to warn Abby and her men. I was here, at the mercy of these sadists. I had come to them like a lamb walking into a wolf’s lair. A line of fire runs down my back, snapping me back to reality. Another lash hits me, sucking the breath from my lungs, and tears run down my face soaking into the blindfold.

  “Pay attention, bitch,” he sneers, “now since you lost count, we’re gonna start over. You get ten lashes, and then if you’re a good girl, I’ll give you an orgasm.”

  I vomit in my mouth at his words, but I know what I’m supposed to say. “Sir,” I spit out, “that’s one, and it feels so good.”

  “That’s a good little slut.” Laughing he asks, “and who’s giving you so much pleasure?”

  “You are, Sir,” I bite out hating him. Fury fills me as I play this unwanted game, but I’d rather have Bradley here than Nathaniel.

  Nathaniel, he’s another level of ferocity. Tears leak out my eyes remembering the way he used me. Nathaniel shoved his fingers into me cruelly, laughing as he used my blood as lube, fucking me and using his alpha power to force me to submit. My instincts took over, and an orgasm was torn from me. Another sob breaks from me, but I steel myself.

  No, fuck you both. I will not let you break me. You can use me, beat me, rape me, but you will not break me.

  When I heard that Abby and Cheyenne had been captured, I resolved to take on all the torture I could
so they wouldn’t have to. I’ll play the good little pain-slut if that’s what it takes.

  You can use me, beat me, fuck me, but you will not break me.

  I chant the words to myself over and over again like a battle cry as the lashes continue to rain down on me until finally, the sweet oblivion I seek finds me.

  The pungent smell of spoiled wine wakes me as the noxious smell permeates my nostrils.

  “Drink, little bitch,” his voice rubs against me like an abrasion.

  I gag as he forces the vile liquid down my throat, the smell fetid and turning putrid as it mixes with the acids of my empty stomach.

  This is awful. Now I’m going to be drunk on shitty spoiled wine.

  It’s lonely without my wolf in my head, but the damn silver cuffs severely weaken her, and now she’s hiding in the corner of my mind. Hearing her chuffs and snorts would be such a comfort.

  “Let’s clean those wounds, why don’t we?” he says.

  My body clenches as he pours the wine on the ribboned flesh of my back. A wordless scream escapes me as the rotten wine mixes with my torn skin.

  The pain is so excruciating that I am paralyzed by it.

  “All better now.” I can hear the amusement in his voice.

  The blindfold is ripped off my face, and finally, I come face to face with Brad, the Demon.

  His insanely gorgeous blue eyes fill my vision. He smiles—his perfect teeth and perfect mouth curving into a smile that should be illegal.

  The fact that he is so stunning adds insult to injury. His breath reeks like stale beer as he stands far too close to me, leering at my naked body.

  “It was such a disappointment that you didn’t last as long this time. Maybe I should fuck you instead. Would you like that?”

  I want to tell him to go fuck himself, but I stay silent. My right eye, already swollen shut, throbs in warning, and I swallow the words down.