Blood Moon Rising Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Lola Taylor

  “We’re not sure yet,” Gerard said, seeming irritated with answering his questions. “We sent the bullets off to be tested.”

  “Who were they after?” Alara asked.

  Gerard’s eyes were guarded. “We think it was the high family,” he finally answered.

  Alara’s chest tightened. She didn’t like the look on his face. “Was someone injured?” When he didn’t answer, she gripped his arms. “Was it Izzy? Please, Gerard, tell me!”

  Nik put a hand on the small of her back, letting her know he was there for her. First hot, then cold, now lukewarm. It irritated her. She didn’t have time to figure out his mood swings right now, not with the possibility of her sister being dead looming before her.

  Gerard took a deep breath, staring at her with regret. “Your sister and father are fine. It’s your mother. The queen’s been severely wounded.”

  Alara’s eyes widened as every drop of blood drained from her face. “Severely wounded? Where is she? You have to take me to her!”

  “Alara,” Gerard began, but she jerked out of his grasp.

  “No,” she said, lifting her chin. “I want to see her—now.”

  Gerard searched her eyes. Nik watched the captain carefully. The captain genuinely cared about Alara—that much was clear. And from the way she looked at him, she obviously cared about him too.

  His heart sank.

  Gerard at last sighed. “Very well. Come with me.”

  Alara stepped forward, not even glancing behind her as she walked away. That stung, but Nik told himself he was being selfish. It was her mother, for crying out loud. If he were in her shoes, he wouldn’t have been able to think about anything else either. Not that he had much to relate to. His parents hadn’t exactly been model citizens.

  Either way, he couldn’t let her out of his sight, not after hearing the shooters had been after the high family. He started to follow when Gage grabbed his arm. “Wait.”

  Nik turned on his brother, the growl in his throat dying when he saw the question—and the hurt—in his brother’s eyes.

  He sighed, the fight leaving him. “I can explain.”

  “You’ve had the Fever and you didn’t tell me.” It was almost an accusation. “How long?”

  Nik ran a hand along his neck, which had suddenly grown stiff. “About three weeks.”

  Gage swore. Danica stepped away a few steps, turning her back. Nik knew she could still hear them, with her wolf hearing, but he appreciated the considerate gesture.

  “And you didn’t think telling me it was your Blood Moon month was important?” Gage said, his words sharp with fury. And hurt.

  An answer formed on Nik’s tongue, but he paused. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to push me into something I didn’t want. I didn’t want to pretend like this is what I want because it’s what you want. Neither of them sounded right. Hurting Gage was the last thing he wanted. He’d been through so much already. So he went with the only one that sounded honest and not hurtful. “I didn’t want you to worry about me.”

  All the anger drained out of Gage, and he sighed. “I’d worry about you anyway. You’re my brother.” His voice softened. “I noticed something was off, but you always keep everything in, so I thought at first it was my imagination. You don’t show your emotions very easily.”

  “Not like you?” Nik said with a small chuckle.

  Gage smiled back. “It’s what makes you so good at politics, whether you want to admit it or not.”

  A sour expression crossed Nik’s face. Gage had tried to get him to run for Alpha, but Nik would have no part of that. He might have an excellent poker face, but he still had a temper. Some king would step out of line and get thrown into a wall, and before he knew it, his pack would be in all-out war. It was too big a risk. Gage’s personality was much more suited to this job.

  Gage stepped closer, studying him with concern. “When did you start hiding things from me again? I thought we were past this.”

  Nik shrugged, giving his brother that carefree smile. “Old habits die hard, I guess.”

  Gage shook his head in frustration. “That’s just it. You pretend like everything is okay inside when it’s not. Just open up to me.”

  Open up. Nik’s pulse quickened with fear. The last time he’d opened up to someone—truly let them see who he was—she’d left him and it nearly destroyed him. He was already raw from trying to win his parents’ affections, something that had proved futile when they’d left him too. All his life people had walked out on him. He couldn’t take any chances at letting them get too close; otherwise, they’d hurt him when they left.

  Gage’s voice was gentle, so full of understanding. “I don’t need you to treat me like your baby brother anymore. I can help you. Let me look out for you for a change.”

  Nik looked at his brother, at the kindness and love in his eyes. His throat tightened with emotion. Mutely, he nodded and Gage embraced him, clapping a hand on his back.

  Nik smiled softly at him. “Thanks,” he said shakily.

  Behind Gage, Danica smiled.

  “Are you Nikolas Johnson?”

  They both turned to look at the pair of guards who’d sneaked up on them.

  Nik raised a brow. “Who wants to know?”

  “His Majesty, High King Victor, would like an audience with you.”

  Shit.

  “What’s this about?” Gage said with authority, becoming the Alpha of the Moonstruck Pack once more as he stepped forward.

  “I think you know very well what this is about,” one of them said with a sneer toward Nik.

  Nik could take a few guesses. And he bet all of them had to do with Alara. “Right, then. Lead the way.”

  Gage and Danica followed Nik and the guards up the stairs to the second story and down the hall. Gilt lined the walls, and frescoes stretched across the ceiling in swirling patterns of the heavens. Nik would have taken more time to admire the artwork if his heart wasn’t beating faster with every step they took as they neared the king’s office.

  More guards waited outside the room. They opened the doors and announced Nik. Nik glanced at Gage, who gave him an encouraging nod, as if to say, “I’ve got your back.” He started to follow Nik in when the guards crisscrossed their swords. “Only Nikolas may enter. The king has not called for you.”

  Gage growled and opened his mouth to protest when Nik cut him off.

  “It’s okay,” he said quickly. “I’ll be fine.” I don’t want to cause any more trouble than I’m already in, he added telepathically.

  Gage gave him a look that said he still wasn’t okay with this, but he stood down. Let me know if you need me, and I’m there.

  Nik smiled. Thanks.

  The first thing Nik did when he walked in was glance around—first, for exits, and secondly, for—

  “She’s not here,” said the king. He sat behind his desk, head leaned forward and pinching the bridge of his nose.

  Nik raised a brow and bowed. “Your Highness.”

  The king chuckled, low and bitter. “I never thought I’d live the day to see my queen dying and the heir to my throne mark a peasant.”

  Nik nearly snorted. Kings loved to throw around those words. He thought they did so because it assured them of their own self-importance.

  The king stood, drawing himself up to his full height. Nik felt the force of the hatred in his eyes. “I’m not all right with this,” he said. “As this has to be some mistake, I will hire the best witches and warlocks available and have them remove the link between you two so my daughter may mate with someone within her own class.”

  Nik blinked, then crossed his arms. “The Mark can’t be undone.”

  “There are always loopholes in spells,” the king said dismissively, sitting down. “I’ll find a way. This union cannot happen.”

  Nik’s heart skipped a beat. At first, he was terrified at growing closer to her, but he found he was more afraid of losing her.

  The king went on bef
ore Nik could think to speak. “For their protection, my daughters are being moved to our other strongholds. After that, you will never see her again.”

  Now Nik’s anger boiled over. “She’s coming with me,” he said with quiet fury.

  The king scoffed. “Don’t be ridiculous. I know you only fancy yourself a knight of hers after marking her—”

  “Oh, I don’t just fancy myself her knight—I am her mate.” His voice grew with strength. “She is my Marked. You cannot fight that.”

  “I can and I will,” the king said, voice hard as stone. “Look, if it’s a title or money you seek—”

  “I don’t want your damn money,” Nik snapped. “And I sure as hell never asked to be some fancy-pants royal.”

  “Then why do you want her? You can’t say you possibly care for her.”

  Nik wasn’t sure if the derision in the king’s voice was aimed at him or Alara. The latter nearly sent him into a rage. He hadn’t known Alara long, but the Fever amplified his feelings, making them irrational. And they made him want to protect her all the more. He remembered seeing her face when he teased her about her name, the resentment in her eyes. Anger like that was hard to hide, the kind that could only be built up after years and years of conditioning. She was as much a prisoner here as she was a princess. He had to save her. “What if I do?”

  “It’s of no consequence to me. You will not mate with my daughter!” the king said, rising and slamming a fist down on the desk.

  Nik never backed down from his icy gaze. “Fight it all you want. But either way, she’s my mate and she’s coming with me.”

  Without another word, he turned his back and stormed out on the High King.

  Gage fell into step beside him once he started walking down the hall. Did you just…?

  Yes. That was me, walking out on the High King.

  Damn. This is doing nothing to improve relations between us and them.

  I don’t care. He’s threatening to take Alara away from me.

  What are you going to do?

  Nik’s eyes narrowed. It was “game on” time. Find Jason. I have a plan.

  Alara squeezed her mother’s clammy hand, her heart constricting. It sounded cruel, but sometimes she’d fantasized about her mother dying. If she wasn’t around, she wouldn’t be able to needle Alara over how inadequate an heir she was.

  But seeing her lying on her bed, her face devoid of color and her breathing so shallow, Alara couldn’t get the taste of fear out of her mouth.

  Izzy sat on the opposite side of the bed, holding their mother’s other hand. The lighting had been kept low on purpose, since their mother had complained about it. Only a few candles lit the room, making it gloomier than ever. Even the shadows seemed thicker.

  Alara worried her lip, unable to remove her eyes off their mother’s fevered face. She’d been shot in the shoulder—the killer had narrowly missed her heart. High werewolves kept a Blue Witch—skilled in the art of healing, as well as water—around in case of emergencies. She said the wound might not have been as bad had the bullets not been silver. The toxins had gotten into the queen’s bloodstream, meaning the witch had to use a more complicated spell to heal her. Plus, there was an enchantment coating the bullet which made the silver liquefy and spread. Because of that alone, it took twice as long to heal the queen. It also took more out of both the witch and the werewolf. The queen had lost a lot of blood while the bullet was being extracted. The witch said she’d recover, but she would need a lot of rest. That was why she’d brewed a potion to help her sleep. With her shoulders worked into knots and her nerves fried, Alara might have to hit her up for some sleeping potions herself later, like some magical Nyquil.

  Their mother hadn’t opened her eyes, but she kept muttering to herself and her head jerked about the sweat-soaked pillow.

  “What is she saying?” Izzy said quietly, eyeing Alara from across the bed.

  “I don’t know.” Alara frowned. “It almost sounds like a name. Maybe she’s dreaming?”

  “Ste… fan.”

  They both looked up in bewilderment, then at each other. “Who’s Stefan?” Izzy whispered.

  Alara shrugged, frowning. She remembered sneaking a peek at a letter her mother was working on when she was little. It had been sitting on her dresser. The queen had gotten upset while she was writing it. Alara had tried to comfort her, but the queen had only pushed her away, growing more distant than she already was when all five-year-old Alara wanted was to be a part of her life.

  Alara shook her head to rid her thoughts of the troubling memory. Her affection waned for her mother. Standing, she started to let go of her mother’s hand when the queen’s fingers suddenly tightened. “I want… my daughter,” she rasped.

  Alara squeezed back, her heart soaring. She sat down and brushed back some wisps of hair from her mother’s face. “I’m right here, Mother.”

  The queen’s eyes cracked open slightly, and she squinted. A look of confusion came over her face, and she shook her head. “My other daughter.”

  Alara went cold all over. The queen might as well have slapped her. She went still, and Izzy bit her lip, frantic eyes drilling a hole into Alara’s head.

  Mouth pressed into a thin line, Alara stood and started toward the door.

  “Alara—” Izzy started.

  “I need some air,” Alara said, cutting her off. She closed the door behind her and walked briskly toward the balcony on the second landing. With every step, it became harder and harder to suppress the tears building in her eyes.

  Guards stood near the balcony, blocking her path. “King’s orders. No one leaves.”

  Alara stormed past them. “If you’re so worried, then come with me,” she growled. At this point, she didn’t care if someone put a bullet through her heart. It was already broken to begin with.

  At a loss, the guards looked at each other and followed her outside.

  Darkness had started to fall, cloaking everything in shades of blue. Stars twinkled above, and the moon tried peeking out behind a patch of cloud cover.

  The first thing she did was stomp over to the balcony, ball up her fists, and hit the railing as hard as she could. Her knuckles popped, but it felt good. She might go down to the gym later to take out her frustrations on the punching bag.

  Silently, she bit her lip to keep the sobs from escaping as tears ran down her face. She kept her back to the guards, and they didn’t make any moves to bring her back inside. That is, until Gerard showed up.

  “What’s going on?” he asked, strolling onto the balcony. “I didn’t authorize this!”

  The guards shifted their weight. “We’re sorry, sir. She ordered us to let her through.”

  “And you actually listened?” he snapped. He sighed in exasperation, closed his eyes, and pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering about “the help being useless.” He turned to Alara, who had hastily patted her face dry while he wasn’t looking. “Come, Lady Alara, let’s get you back inside.”

  She ducked her head to hide her gaze. “I’m not going,” she said in a low voice.

  He hesitated, his hand pausing midair while reaching for her. “Come again?”

  “I said”—she raised her head, her voice rising in volume—“I’m not going!”

  His mouth dropped open as shock spread over his face. She’d never raised her voice to him, ever. He fumbled for words. “Alara….”

  The gentleness he spoke her name with made her emotional walls crack all over again. Tears fell down her face, faster and faster, as she held Gerard’s gaze. In one step he had closed the distance between them and taken her in his arms, holding her as she cried onto his shoulder.

  He didn’t say anything as her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

  “It’s all right,” he murmured, stroking her hair soothingly. “No one will hurt you.”

  “I know,” she hiccupped, and she believed him. He would die before letting anything happen to her—literally. All knights had to swear an oath to the ro
yal line, part of which meant giving their lives for the crown if necessary. And here she was, standing on the balcony out in the open, when there could still very well be a threat lurking in the shadows below. How selfish could she be?

  She pulled away and composed herself. “I’m all right. Just stressed.”

  Gerard tenderly brushed away tears from her cheeks, cupping her face in the palms of his hands for a moment. “You know I would do anything for you, and you can tell me anything, right?” he said, a sad look on his face.

  “I know.” She sniffed. But she wouldn’t tell him. She wasn’t ready to admit out loud yet that her mother loved Izzy way more than she loved her. Somewhere inside the adult who didn’t care was a child who yearned to be accepted and loved by her mother. Was she not as important as Izzy? Was she not as special and deserving of her mother’s love?

  Numb, she whispered to herself.

  With practiced ease, she took a deep breath and let the calmness spread through her. She stepped back from Gerard. “I’m fine,” she said, deadpan. “I just needed some fresh air.”

  He made a frustrated grunt. Apparently, that hadn’t been the response he’d been hoping for. Letting his hand drop away, he returned to being the soldier once more. “I will give you another few minutes to compose yourself, my lady. Please, for your own safety, return to your rooms.”

  With that, he turned and strode away without a backwards glance.

  She watched him leave, then turned and looked over the grounds. The garden lights twinkled below, lighting up the pathways with orange and red light. Normally, when she was stressed, she would take a stroll through her mother’s garden, but therein lied the problem—it was her mother’s garden. She couldn’t possibly walk there right now because it would remind her too much of her and all that had happened tonight. Besides, she knew Gerard wouldn’t allow her to walk in the garden, even with escorts. The more she stared out at the open space, the more she felt like the castle walls were closing in on her, suffocating her. She yearned to escape, to be truly free. For a moment, she allowed herself to fantasize about running away with Nik.