by A. D. Ryan
Wolf mooN
-book two-
A.D. RYAN
Copyright © 2015 A.D. Ryan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical terms, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Ryan, A.D.
Wolf Moon / A.D. Ryan
(Blood Moon Trilogy ; 02)
Text and Cover design by Angela Schmuhl
Cover Image: Shutterstock, © djile
“I can’t write without a reader. It’s precisely like a kiss—you can’t do it alone.”
― John Cheever
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
When you hear that writing a book is hard, it’s not a lie. Coming up with an idea is the easy part; it’s finding the time to bring that world to life that is the hard part—for me, anyway. Without my network of supportive family and friends, I wouldn’t be able to share any of this with you, my readers.
My husband and kids have been so tolerant of me each time I sit down at the computer or take five minutes to jot something down in a notebook or my phone when inspiration strikes. I love you guys with everything I have.
To each of my kids, specifically, I want to remind you to follow your heart’s desire. Dream big and know that you can do anything you set your mind to. No star is out of reach.
Each of my parents, I thank you for always encouraging my creativity. Whether it be writing, drawing, singing, photography…it all led me here. To this moment.
Tiffany and Lynda, you two do the impossible: you stroke my ego while simultaneously telling me to be better. I couldn’t imagine taking this journey without you two, and I appreciate all that you do to help make me a better story-teller.
Not to be forgotten are my handful of beta readers. Getting the idea down on paper isn’t always the hard part, but wondering if what you’ve written will appeal to anyone else besides yourself is equally as nerve-wracking.
Marny, my best girl, you’ve been with me through it all. And I do mean through it all. You and I have been through so much, and you’ve been such an inspiration to me. It always makes me nervous to know you’re willing to read anything I’ve written, because I feel as though your own talent eclipses mine. For real.
My baby sister, you’re always waiting to hear about my latest kooky idea, and it excites me that, no matter how messed up the idea is, that you want me to bring it to life as much as I do. It’s important for me to push my limits, and you always make sure I push even further than I’d planned.
And, finally, Jennifer, Nicole, and Sandy, your excitement as I wrote this novel is what kept me going. You guys were chomping at the bit every step of the way and acted as my cheerleaders. Thank you for keeping me motivated.
You all made this happen. I won’t ever forget that.
Cheers,
Angela
Prologue | watched
The sun hung low in the sky that late-November evening. Orange mingled with shades of pink and purple as night closed in over the city. A red-haired woman was getting ready to leave the cemetery—leave the city to embark on the next chapter of her life—when something stopped her. Eyebrows pulling together, she appeared perplexed. Her nose twitched before she dropped to her knees and began clawing at the ground.
Several people were on their way to their cars after visiting their dearly departed loved ones, slowing to take in the sight of the woman on her knees. “What is she doing?” an older woman asked her husband.
He had no actual answer, mumbling something about how other people choose to grieve is none of their concern. Then he took her by the arm and led her away, leaving the strange girl to her business.
She leaned down a little more, her red hair brushing the grass, and she inhaled deeply. Her frustration thickened the air as it poured out of her, and her fingers curled into the earth, tearing up soil and grass by the handful. Beads of sweat formed on her brow, a sure sign of her exertion, and she continued to dig, not knowing what she would find.
It was an interesting sight to behold; a seemingly average—albeit a tad on the skinny side, to some—girl digging up a grave by hand.
By the time night had fully descended over the cemetery, she was four feet deep. Two more to go and she would have her answers. Even if she wasn’t ready for them. So much had happened to her over the course of a month. How would she handle this?
There was only one way to know for sure.
She dug. And then she dug some more. She continued to rip up the dirt below her, pushing it aside with a grunt so she could keep going. Specks of dirt and blades of grass clung to her hair, and her face was streaked with clay and soil. Earthworms continued to shift through the disrupted earth, doing their job as though nothing was wrong.
Her red head disappeared from sight as she sank another foot into the grave. More dirt flew out and scattered on the ground. She might have been able to get through this quicker if she’d used the shovel the groundskeeper forgot to lock up. It wasn’t very far from the grave she was currently ripping into.
The grunting suddenly stopped; only her labored breathing could be heard, faint clouds from her hot breath mingling with the cool desert air rising from the hole she’d created. There was a light knock against wood, a breathy curse, and then her hands appeared in the grass as she prepared to pull herself out.
But she stopped. Her hands disappeared again. More dirt was displaced. Then a gasp of alarm.
A man showed up then. She knew him. She trusted him, even though she had every reason under the sun not to. But she did. She always would. She loved him, even if she couldn’t admit it to herself out of respect for the man she just lost. Moreover, he loved her. He hadn’t stopped. It was why he was here; to save her from a threat she didn’t even know existed.
“It was only a matter of time before you found out,” he said to her as he knelt and extended his hand down to her. “Come on. It’s time I told you the truth. You’re ready.”
Her tiny hand appeared, blackened with dirt and blades of grass jammed beneath her nails, and she slipped it into his. He pulled her out of the hole with ease before helping her refill it. Because she destroyed the sod, it wouldn’t be the same, and the groundskeeper was sure to question it. Or maybe he wouldn’t; he was getting up there in age.
The two of them were silent, but it was obvious that the wheels were turning in her head as she tried to figure out what it was she saw down there: nothing. She found a hole in an empty coffin. What did that mean?
“Where is he?” she asked, her voice so soft it was barely heard. Then she fell to her knees, the stress of the situation too much for her to bear any longer. Her eyes stared at the ground, wide and unseeing, and her hands lay limp in her lap. She’d retreated within herself like when she lost her brother the first time.
Or, when she thought she lost her brother the first time.
Little did she know, he’d been out there all this time. Though, unlike her, he’d given his old life very little thought. Until recently when he was forced to go back.
If it weren’t for the mongrel that now knelt at her side, trying to coax her to respond to him, she’d have been left alone. She’d have been able to go about her life, grieving but oblivious.
But he had to intrude. He had to stick his nose into the affairs of the Coven. If he hadn’t done what he did, then they wouldn’t have come after her.
But he did.
And now he had to pay the
price.
A life for a life.
As the man hoisted her up in his arms and carried her toward the lot where the rest of his Pack awaited him, a shadowy figure watched them from the cover of darkness. The observer was sure to stay upwind so as not to be noticed by their annoyingly keen sense of smell. Listening to barked orders, one of the youngest Pack members stepped out of the Camaro and straddled the red Harley while the one in charge slipped the girl into her white Mustang and then slid behind the wheel.
They were headed home to Canada, because their mission to destroy Gianna had been completed.
Or so they thought. Gianna would live on in the coven’s mission for vengeance.
A wicked smile slowly started to form on the lips of this mystery observer, the moonlight glinting off his elongated canines as he clutched the red tear-shaped pendant in his hand. It was the only thing he had left of his queen. His thirst for vengeance far outweighed his need for blood as he silently plotted his revenge.
Chapter 1 | restless
Nothing made sense anymore. Just when I thought I had a grasp on what my new reality was, everything got turned on its axis and spun wildly out of control. I couldn’t deal with it. I couldn’t cope.
And what did I do when that happened?
I went blank. I disappeared inside myself, hiding from the world.
When had everything gone so horribly wrong? Was it the night of my twenty-first birthday when my twin brother was murdered in the back alley of some exclusive club? A club I would later learn was used by vampires to lure prey? Sounded ridiculous, right? Well, it wasn’t. It existed, and while at the time we thought Bobby died at the hands of a deranged madman, I came to learn about an entirely new world shortly after my twenty-eighth birthday last month.
How? My ex-fiancé showed up and threw my entire world off balance.
Nick Evans had always been a little impulsive, never slowing down to offer any sort of explanation. It was like this from the beginning of our relationship right up until the end. It was part of his charm, and quite possibly what brought us together. It was absolutely what ripped us apart when he left me without a reason…or at least, I thought the one he gave wasn’t much at the time. Turned out he was just being vague. Apparently when he said he was “going through some changes,” what that really meant was “I was attacked by something in a dark alley while trying to find out what happened to your brother, and now I’m a werewolf. And because I don’t know how to control it, I have to go away.”
Made sense, right? What rational twenty-one-year-old wouldn’t buy that? All of them, because it sounded crazy.
So, yes, while I thought he was just trying out a new spin on the “it’s not you, it’s me” routine, I understood what he meant when he finally came out and told me that he felt he was too dangerous to be around me. I knew this, because I had recently experienced what he was so afraid of.
The night after my twenty-eighth birthday, my partner, David Samuels, and I were called out to Chaparral Park in my hometown of Scottsdale, Arizona, to investigate the murder of a young woman. While conducting our search I stumbled across a wolf. Only this was no ordinary wolf. I knew this because wolves in Arizona were a rarity—fifty Mexican gray wolves in the entire state rare—but secondly, this wolf was twice, maybe triple the size of any of the ones I’d seen. It attacked me, and after that, my whole life had been irrevocably changed.
I’d become something I believed existed only in movies and books. And worse, because of this, David was murdered. My partner. My friend. My lover. My everything.
David was the first serious relationship I’d been in since my failed engagement to Nick. We’d met through work, and soon realized there was chemistry there. He was amazing. Everything a woman should want in a man. He was sweet and compassionate, protective and just the right amount of possessive, and most importantly, understanding. For the first two years of our relationship, he never once pressured me to make our relationship public. He understood that I had ghosts from my past that I hadn’t yet dealt with.
It took time, but I’d finally reached that place in our relationship where I could be open with those around us. Sure, it wasn’t without problems, but what relationship was perfect? I had a tendency to let my past experience with love cloud what was right in front of me, and it put stress on our relationship. By the time I realized this and was ready to take that next step, it was too late; he was killed in our living room by the woman who’d broken in and attacked me.
Correction: by the vampire who’d broken in and attacked me.
Maybe that was what pushed me over the edge. Or maybe it was when I hunted the bitch down and Nick killed her. Of course, it could have also been when I let my rage consume me and I killed the leader of their coven.
Watching Samantha Turner meet her end, while horrifying, was actually quite cathartic. She got what was coming to her, but it didn’t quite quench my thirst for vengeance. I think it was because she wasn’t there of her own accord; she’d been sent there as a message for me by the leader of her coven.
It wasn’t until Nick and I tracked Gianna down, and I ripped her head off, that I was finally able to properly grieve my loss. Not just for David, but Bobby’s death as well. In the struggle, Gianna had mentioned Bobby, and after she did, Nick blamed her for killing my brother. I finally knew what happened to him. It was still a little difficult to wrap my head around, but I could finally grieve his death properly, too.
I wasn’t sure what I planned to do with my life at that point. While I wanted to eventually return to work on the police force, my new life as a werewolf appeared to be holding me back. I wasn’t comfortable with this new part of me yet, and I couldn’t control it. Someone else was bound to get hurt, so when Nick extended an invitation for me to join him and his Pack in Canada, I accepted. It seemed like the logical next step.
After packing my clothes and a few necessities, I made sure I had my passport and organized a sad goodbye with my parents. They didn’t understand, of course, but it was something I needed to do. I was set to meet Nick at his place that evening, but before I did, I planned to stop by the cemetery to say goodbye to David and Bobby…
Bobby…
Inhaling deeply, I pushed the thought aside. I buried it down deep, still not ready to deal with what I saw, and rested my head against the cool passenger side window. As Nick zipped down the highway, I watched the scenery fly by. I was so out of it, I could barely make out the words to the music that was playing on the radio. Nick tried talking to me, but I couldn’t respond. I wasn’t ready. I had so many questions, and I knew he had the answers, but I couldn’t bring myself to ask them for fear of the truth.
Because I was pretty sure I already knew the truth. I just didn’t want to believe it or have it confirmed. I’d reached the denial stage.
At some point, I passed out, the stress of the last several days having finally caught up with me. I didn’t wake until I felt a warm hand on my cheek, then shoulder. Slowly, my eyes opened, and I realized we were in the parking lot of a little diner. There was snow on the ground, and the sky was overcast and gray. Frost covered the windows of cars that had been sitting outside, and I shivered just imagining the temperature.
I wanted Arizona.
I sat up, rubbing my eyes, and looked at Nick, who offered me a smile, then out the window at his Pack who’d parked their bikes all in a row next to us. Apparently they weren’t going to let a little snow and ice scare them.
“The guys were hungry,” Nick explained. “You? We’ve been on the road about ten hours.”
My stomach grumbled, but I didn’t say a word.
“Come on, then.” Nick opened the door and climbed out, and I did the same. I moved toward the door slowly, letting the Pack go ahead. I looked around outside, curious as to where we were, but I didn’t see any defining landmarks. “We’re in Orem, Utah,” Nick explained, resting his hand gently on my lower back and holding the door open for me.
Nick stayed by my side, and
when we entered the Village Inn diner, I didn’t fail to notice the looks we all garnered from the patrons and employees alike. There was prejudgment in their eyes, and I knew it had something to do with the fact that they all wore the typical biker leathers and their scruffy faces. Uncomfortable, I wrapped my arms around myself as the hostess fumbled with six menus and then led us to our table.
I slipped into the booth, scooted closer to the window, and looked outside, watching a few people walk by in the cold. It wasn’t particularly interesting, but it kept my mind occupied. Nick’s hand on my thigh made me jump, and when I looked into his eyes, he looked apologetic.
“Did you need more time to order?”
Confused, I looked down at my still closed menu, then up at the guys all staring at me, and finally at our middle-aged server. She had kind eyes, and seemed the least nervous around this group in comparison to all the other employees and patrons.
“I…” My voice cracked from having been silent for so long, so I cleared my throat and rubbed my forehead, which suddenly felt damp. “Eggs…I guess?”
Nick took my menu and handed it to the server with his. “She’ll have what I’m having,” he said confidently before placing his hand on my back and moving it up and down soothingly. “You okay?”
I nodded, letting my gaze drift back out the window.
“The guys and I were hoping to grab a few rooms here in town to catch a little shut-eye. We’ve still got about fifteen hours on the road…”
“Yeah. That’s fine.”
I tried to pretend like I was paying attention to the conversation, but the truth was, my mind just wasn’t in it. I kept seeing darkness—emptiness—and the smell of damp earth and grass filled my head as I tried to dig up the memory of what I found in the cemetery. Or maybe I was trying to bury it.
