Blood Moon Rising Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Lola Taylor

  Biting her lip to hold a scream at bay, she discreetly flicked her wrist. The soundproofing spell was nigh unnoticeable, at least to those who didn’t know what that tingling on the back of the neck meant. And Elijah seemed so wrapped up in her—literally—that he couldn’t care less about a simple spell.

  Her heart leapt for joy. Progress. They were at last making some progress with his fears about magic.

  She bucked her hips fervently, feeling the climax growing, climbing within her. Her nails dug into the granite. “Eli—”

  Suddenly, cold air whooshed in as his tongue vanished, only to be replaced by the warmth of his cock seconds later.

  Her head thrown back in a gasp of shock and pleasure, he groaned as he settled inside her and began to rock. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady while he thrust. She clung to him, digging her nails into those thick, muscular arms of his, staring into his eyes as her pleasure built.

  They held each other’s gazes, hearts pounding in sync, one beautiful, synchronized unit thanks to the miracle of the mate-bond.

  “Verika,” he rasped.

  The sound of his voice revealed the effect she had on this strong, seemingly invincible man…

  Her core blazed and then at last erupted.

  They came as one; wave after wave of liquid pleasure rolled through her. He didn’t bother masking his groan as he came, throwing his head back and thrusting a few more times until they were both spent.

  Verika’s body felt like Jell-O, and in the best way possible. The warmth and glow of their love filled every muscle, and she relaxed against her mate, breathing hard onto his chest. In a busy world with a hectic life, the moments that pleased her most were those where it was just the two of them, their hearts beating as one, their breaths mingling as they simply held each other and at last found peace.

  Elijah chuckled deeply. “I must have done a good job. You’re speechless.”

  Verika lightly smacked his shoulder and sat up. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Me? Never.” He grinned impishly, making the two dimples in his cheeks show.

  Cupping his face, she smiled and kissed him before she hopped off the counter. He slapped her bare ass as she walked by, eliciting a giggle. “You should get ready.” Verika still smiled as she retrieved her obliterated panties and leggings.

  Elijah had turned to lean against the countertop, his big arms crossed over his chest. “And you should stay naked.”

  “We’ll make a day of it—a glorious whole twenty-four hours of bare skin, silk sheets, Netflix, and meals in bed.” She kissed the tip of his nose. “Someday soon, when this mess is all behind us.”

  His smile tightened. “Yeah. Someday soon.”

  She paused, studying him a beat before she nodded once and walked away.

  Not right now. Now wasn’t the time to ask why her mate’s doubt had slipped through their bond just then.

  She didn’t even really need to ask, because she felt the same way.

  Deep down, she, too, had started to think a day would never come where they could truly be together without fear they’d be torn apart.

  Nik was going to kill something. Or, more likely, someone.

  Like a certain asshole brother named Elijah.

  “Seriously,” he said to Gage, who sat way too poised in front of him while he paced around his office like an agitated tiger. “How, exactly, after years of silence, did he all of a sudden get the gall to show up out of the blue like, ‘Hey, by the way, guys, I’m alive and well.’ Like, what the fuck?”

  Gage eyed the tumbler of Scotch on the coffee table, which was centered in a trio of leather couches. So far he hadn’t even taken a sip, but Nik sensed he wanted to. He was probably trying to be the responsible one and all that.

  Saint Gage. As someone with a personal history of being an asshole by nature, Nik found it both endearing and annoying how perfect and nice Gage could be.

  But he loved him anyway, because that’s what brothers did.

  “I don’t know,” Gage murmured, turning his eyes back to Nik. “Perhaps it’s Verika. Love has a way of making you grow a pair.”

  Wasn’t that the truth. Though it could be argued love could also scare the hell out of you and turn you into a dickless pansy. Most days, he still didn’t feel worthy of Alara’s affection. He was still afraid someday she’d recognize the ugliness in him, tuck tail, and run, but so far she hadn’t.

  And he prayed to God she never would.

  A knock sounded at the door, quiet but not so much as to sound timid.

  Nik’s heart pounded. It felt as if he were about to go into battle, only this was one fight he wasn’t looking forward to. Dread wrenched his gut, twisted his insides, and made him feel as though he were about to come unglued from anxiety.

  Why are you so scared? Don’t be a pussy.

  Gage eyed his older brother curiously before at last speaking up, because it appeared Nik’s voice had vanished. “Come in,” Gage called.

  Dammit. He sounded so together, while Nik felt as though the world were about to fall apart all over again. Just as it had done the night they’d been bitten.

  Just as he had the moment Elijah walked out of their lives forever, leaving a crying Nik screaming his name into the night.

  He remembered that night clear as day. Blisteringly cold wind had chapped his still-damp skin. He’d just gotten out of the shower and had run outside as soon as Gage told him Elijah was leaving. He didn’t want to believe it. He’d looked up to Elijah too damn much. Had learned everything he knew about being a damn good big brother from Elijah.

  Bursting through the screen door, he’d stumbled down the porch and into the newly fallen snow. His eyes had scanned the darkening horizon for a lone figure. The silhouette of a man—his brother—grew farther away. “Elijah!” he’d screamed.

  His big brother had kept walking.

  Overwhelming pain brought on by the agony of abandonment had wracked his body. He’d cried out, a howl of grief lancing the night as he dropped to his knees in the snow.

  No. No, Elijah was supposed to keep them safe. He’d promised to always be there, to never let anything happen to them.

  “Elijah! Don’t leave me!”

  “Nik?”

  Nik startled. “What?” He blinked several times, pulling himself out of the memory and focusing on Gage, who now stood beside him. He looked at his older brother with worry.

  “Er, Eli’s here.” Gage gestured to the door.

  Everything slowed down as Nik turned to look at his older brother.

  Elijah stood there, dressed in a black T-shirt that was a bit too tight for his muscular body, torn, faded jeans cinched at his waist by a black leather belt, and a pair of sneakers that were beat halfway to hell.

  At first, all Nik could do was stare. In disbelief, in shock, in fear, in awe. He didn’t know what to feel. It felt like seeing him for the first time in years all over again.

  Elijah stared warily back. A multitude of emotions passed through his eyes.

  Overwhelming relief crashed into Nik, making his knees shake. He wanted to hug Elijah so badly, to know he was real, that he was at last here to stay. But his arms wouldn’t move. His body felt as if it were made of stone, tethering him to the spot.

  Gage was the first to step forward after the most awkward, tense silence the earth had ever witnessed. “It’s been too long, brother,” Gage said in a shaky voice, embracing Elijah.

  Elijah seemed stunned at first, not hugging him back initially. Then his big arms wrapped around Gage. Though Gage was muscular too, his body looked much leaner compared to Elijah’s. Elijah was a tank, standing a bit taller than Gage.

  The two brothers hugged each other tightly, clinging to each other as if afraid to let go.

  Nik’s hands balled into fists at his sides.

  Gage and Elijah at last separated. Gage smiled warmly. Elijah gave him a tentative smile back and looked at Nik. The second he did, his smile vanished.
<
br />   Anger rolled off Nik in waves, and his fists shook. “Where the hell have you been?” Nik asked in a quiet, stone-cold voice.

  “Nik—” Gage stepped between them and held up his hands.

  “No!” Nik shoved past Gage, getting in Elijah’s face. He grabbed hold of Elijah’s T-shirt collar and shook him hard enough to rattle his brain. “Where the fuck have you been all this time? Huh? Did you not think we’d worry? Did you not think we’d given you up for dead?”

  Pain flickered in Elijah’s eyes. “I was trying to protect you. I walked out because I couldn’t stand being around our dad anymore, for bringing the curse on us, for ruining our childhoods. Then I fell into trouble and…I couldn’t come back.”

  Nik searched his expression and tried to detect any whiff of bullshit. At last, he let him go. “Tch. Yeah, right. You were probably just too strung out to come find us. Or maybe you were too busy getting balls deep in Mistress Black, our mortal enemy.”

  Elijah’s eyes flashed gold, and a warning growl rumbled in his chest. “I’m not going to pretend like I wasn’t a horrible, rotten piece of shit, because I was. I was strung out. I was an adrenaline junkie. Hanging out with her gave me the best high of my life.” He shuddered. “Until I got a brutal wake-up call.”

  “What happened?” Gage cut in as Nik opened his mouth. He shot Nik a warning look.

  Get it together, Gage’s demanding voice boomed in his head. Don’t let your anger take control of you. You’re better than that.

  Dammit. Much as Nik would love to knock Elijah into next week, Gage was right. Elijah could help them. Hell, it was a blessing he’d bedded the enemy for however long. Whatever information he held could save their lives. For all their sakes, Nik had to cool it.

  Elijah sighed hard and ran a hand through his dark hair. He glanced at the tumbler of Scotch on the table. “I hope you have more of that, because I’m gonna need it if we’re talking about Mistress Black.”

  An hour later, Nik sat, stunned. And numb, but that could have been from the bottle of whiskey he’d knocked back on top of the Scotch.

  Every shadowy secret of Elijah’s past had tumbled out. Gage had a knack for coaxing people into spilling their deepest, darkest secrets. Nik…well, Nik had other methods. Usually ones involving knives and a helluva lot of blood.

  Listening to Elijah spin his sad tale hadn’t snapped a nerve in Nik like he thought it would. Even when Elijah had gotten to the part where he’d met Verika, Nik hadn’t felt a damn bit jealous. How could he when he was mated to the perfect woman? And bit by bit, as Elijah talked, Nik found his anger fading away and changing into sympathy and sorrow. The collective weight of those heavy emotions made him feel as if the ocean of alcohol he’d just drunk had added an extra fifty pounds to his midsection.

  The three brothers sat in heavy silence, staring at their empty glasses and bottles, of which there were many. A lot of booze was drunk this past hour.

  “Damn,” Gage said at last.

  “Ditto.” Nik shook his head. “I had no idea…”

  “Yeah, well. I had preferred to keep it that way.” Elijah shifted his weight, not looking at either of his brothers. “I guess in addition to protecting you two, I was also protecting myself in a way. I didn’t want you to be disappointed in me, but I guess that was inevitable since I never called.”

  “No. I can understand why you didn’t.” Gage leaned forward and squeezed Elijah’s arm. “You’ll always be our family. No matter what you’ve done.”

  Elijah stilled, staring first at Gage’s hand and then lifting his eyes to his baby brother’s face. “You mean that?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course.” Gage nodded and looked at Nik expectantly.

  Nik’s eyes flicked between his two brothers. The two people left on this earth who shared the same blood as him. God, he’d wanted this, had wanted his big brother back. It wasn’t so much because he needed someone to look out for him as much as he’d just missed Eli so damned much. They were so much alike, in so many ways. The betrayal he’d felt at him walking out on them, abandoning them, remained and would take a long time to go away, if it ever did.

  But this…this was a start.

  Nik met Elijah’s questioning, hopeful stare—and nodded once.

  An enormous weight seemed to lift from Elijah’s shoulders, and he gave Nik an unsure, but grateful, smile.

  And for the first time since seeing him, Nik actually gave him a small, tight smile back.

  It’s a start.

  And, really, that’s all he’d ever wanted. A second chance, an opportunity to lay old hurts to rest. Of course, letting go of his anger would take a long time.

  But he was finally willing to try.

  Alara had to admit—Nik was handling it better than she thought he would.

  At least he hadn’t “ripped that motherfucker a new one,” or so he’d promised last night. There Nik and Alara were, locked away in their bedroom and having perfectly hot sex, when Nik had started to ramble. About how much he hated Elijah, about how he was going to storm up to his room and throw him out on the street to be collected with the rest of the trash, and so on. Alara had at last given up on a romantic, drama-free evening alone with her mate, and with a sigh of exasperation and resignation, had called their sexcapades quits.

  Then she’d found out Gage wanted Nik to join him in a meeting with Elijah, to get his side of the story. Though part of her thought it was a good idea—and a much-needed discussion between the three brothers if they were to ever get past this drama—she’d also expected a bloodbath. At the very least she’d expected yelling, maybe even a few thrown punches. Which was why she hadn’t batted a lash as the yelling began.

  Danica and Verika hadn’t fared so well. They’d both tensed as the three she-wolves listened outside the office door.

  “He sounds really angry,” Danica murmured, nibbling her lip—one of her unqueenly quirks.

  Alara suppressed a smile. She could imagine her mother rolling in her grave, bemoaning what a travesty it was to have such a commoner for a queen. “They’re just hashing it out the only way they know how. They need this. All of them.”

  “Let’s just hope Nik leaves me enough of a mate to curl up with tonight,” Verika muttered as she crossed her arms. She stared at the door so hard you’d think she had X-ray vision.

  “He’ll be fine,” Alara assured her, masking her worry. Truth was, she wasn’t so sure Nik wouldn’t let Elijah walk out without a scratch or two.

  Or maybe a busted lip. Or a broken nose. Or a blackened eye—

  Stop it. Gage wouldn’t let things get too out of hand. She’d sensed the king’s nerves when he’d arrived, a mixture of apprehension and excitement. The ache of losing Izzy made her desperately wish the brothers would find it in their hearts to forgive one another before it was too late. Family was too precious to take for granted.

  “Come,” Alara said. “Let’s leave them alone. The guards will step in if it gets too rough.”

  Verika gave the door one last doubtful look, but she finally followed Alara and Danica down the hall.

  Danica and Alara chatted quietly as they walked toward one of Alara’s private sitting rooms, while Verika trailed them, looking around and keeping to herself.

  She’s weird, Danica said telepathically.

  Alara smiled softly. She’s just shy. And a bit socially awkward. I think I intimidate her.

  Can’t imagine why, Your Royal Perfectness.

  Not wanting to give away the fact they were having a private conversation, Alara refrained from nudging Danica with her elbow.

  So is she seriously a Black Witch? Danica asked, sounding more curious than anything else.

  Yes.

  Danica’s eyes flickered with worry. Do you think she’s sided with Mistress Black?

  Alara thought about it. No, I don’t think so. She seems to want her dead as much as we do, probably for what she did to Elijah.

  Danica’s expression turned dark. Yeah. Gage to
ld me about that on the way here.

  Alara had a feeling the version of Elijah’s past Elijah and Verika had relayed to them the other night was truncated. That there was a whole lot more to their stories than either of them was letting on.

  Honestly, more power to them. They had just as much right to keep secrets as anybody else. God knew Alara and the rest of them had their fair share of secrets.

  The sitting room was by far the girliest of the rooms in the manor. Alara had to fight with Nik to let her redecorate, saying the place sorely needed “a woman’s touch.” When he’d at last given in, she’d been ruthless in tearing down every drab, boring curtain, ripping off outdated wallpaper, and pulling up hideous shag carpet that belonged in the seventies—or in the fireplace.

  The fresh, feminine look of the room now, with its sunny buttercream walls, white gauze curtains, turquoise rugs, and white couch and chairs, made it difficult to recognize the old room. The room finally felt like hers now, her own little sanctuary within the manor’s imposing walls. She’d needed this when she’d moved here, to this strange place that didn’t know her. Needed to make it hers, somehow.

  After one of the maids brought them tea and cookies, they sat back and talked. Alara made sure to steer the conversation to safer topics, such as the weather, shopping, how impossible it was to live in a house full of male werewolves.

  Verika replied only when spoken to, sipping her tea quietly while sitting straight up on the edge of the sofa.

  Alara watched her carefully and with a hint of amusement. Verika could probably flick her wrist and kill everyone in this manor, and yet here she was, scared to death of a little girl talk. It was, admittedly, endearing.

  Alara had heard witches and warlocks couldn’t choose their powers. That they were handed down to them genetically. Verika could no more help being a Black Witch than Alara could a werewolf. It was just a part of who she was. It didn’t make her evil.