Hunt the Moon

by Kari Cole

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Markes scowled at the view through the van’s windows.

  “Get down,” LeBlanc said in his deep rumble. “Coming up on them now.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I already saw them. Fucking dogs.”

  LeBlanc grunted and Markes rolled onto his back in the rear of the stolen telephone company van. How were they supposed to get at the human bitch without attracting the pack’s attention when the bastards were camped outside her door?

  They’d seen at least two wolves hiding in the woods behind the row of overpriced condos. He and LeBlanc had discovered the guards after only two passes through the neighborhood. If that was the best the pack had to offer, no wonder they’d been able to kill right under the dogs’ noses. Pathetic.

  “We shouldn’t come through again,” LeBlanc said.

  “Yeah. Even these idiots would notice.” He climbed into the passenger seat. “We’ve seen everything we need to already.”

  Stupid mutts couldn’t even properly hide themselves in the dense underbrush meant to preserve the humans’ privacy from the squirrels and birds. “Christ, how do humans live like this?” Markes asked, flinging a hand toward the meandering complex of two-story boxes, stacked right on top of one another. “They’re like eggs in a carton.”

  “Just as breakable, too.” LeBlanc flicked his turn signal like a law-abiding utility employee should and turned out of the suburban hell.

  Markes nodded. Meat sacks. That’s all humans were. Meals on the hoof. Easily separated from their careful little herds.

  Jenny Erlington would be, too.

  “The kid could be a problem,” LeBlanc said.

  “Hmm.” No one had warned them that the whiny human had a kid, but a tiny pink bike leaned against the garage, and an upstairs window sported one of those stickers paranoid parents used to mark their spawn’s bedrooms so the firefighters would know where to find the bodies. “Not our problem. If she’s there, too bad. Caine wants the woman dead to protect his buddies in the pack. She knows her boss, Branson, was just the front man for the land purchases.”

  A deep crease appeared on LeBlanc’s forehead. He always worried too much.

  Markes slapped the big bear’s arm. “The mutts can’t watch the bitch forever. Then she’s ours.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Green spruce and Douglas fir stood out against the backdrop of the gray early morning sky. Izzy used the sleeve of her borrowed coat to clear the condensation from the window. Luke’s truck hit another pothole and she bounced in the seat.

  “Gonna snow again later,” Luke said.

  “Oh?” Izzy didn’t look at him. Every time she did, her face burned like the sun. Instead, she intently fogged up the passenger window.

  Last night she’d let him feed her by hand while she practically straddled him; nuzzle and kiss her; and for the grand finale, kneel between her legs while she was naked. And there went her cheeks again.

  But even more embarrassing—and exciting and confusing—was how they woke up this morning, in bed, all tangled together, her head on his chest, his thigh firmly between hers.

  Naked.

  Naked.

  Luke made a noise that was a cross between a cough and a laugh. Ignoring the fresh volcanic blush pulsing through her skin, she turned to glare at him. Smug. That’s what he was. He’d been smirking at her all morning.

  “You’d better knock that off before we get to Freddie’s,” she said.

  “What?”

  “That look. That oh-so-pleased-with-yourself, shit-eating grin you got going on.”

  “Can’t.”

  Grrr. “Well, you’d better try. I don’t want Hank or Abby to get the wrong idea.”

  “What idea is that, sugar?”

  She sighed. “That’s another thing. Don’t call me ‘sugar’ in front of them. And you know perfectly well what idea I’m talking about.”

  “That I want you? Because that’s the simple truth, sugar.”

  The landscape blurred as her brain fuzzed out. Her tongue went numb while every other inch of her tingled.

  Holy hell.

  “Why don’t you call them Mom and Dad?” Luke asked, calm as you please. As if he hadn’t just confounded her into the village idiot.

  Izzy dragged in a breath and leaned her head against the freezing window. “Because,” she said lamely.

  “Because why? Freddie does.”

  Acid burned her stomach and she tried to tamp down the anger rising with it. Luke couldn’t have known that this topic infuriated her. “That’s because they are his parents. They adopted him.”

  “But not you and Bess?”

  “No.” One more act of petty cruelty to lay at her grandmother’s feet. A dull ache formed behind her eyes. “They tried,” she said. “Our grandmother wouldn’t relinquish her rights to us. Somehow she managed to block everything Hank and Abby did to sever her ties.”

  This was dangerous. The subject of her grandmother was a minefield with way too many triggers to blow up in her face. After a couple deep breaths she said, “We never—I never felt like I’d earned the right. It wasn’t anything Hank or Abby did. They loved us as much as any biological family could. Bess and I were just so...separate. By choice.” By necessity.

  She felt Luke’s gaze on her, could practically hear the next series of questions forming in his mind. But thankfully he didn’t voice them.

  Turning onto the winding private road that led to Freddie’s house, Luke said, “Do you remember the cover story for where you’ve been and—”

  “I’ve got it.” If there was one thing she was good at, it was hiding the truth. “I can’t believe Hank and Abby bought that story, though,” she said. “It’s been three days.”

  Luke shrugged. “Well, it’s not as far-fetched as it sounds. There are plenty of isolated cabins around here. Roads get cut off by rock slides and avalanches all the time.”

  He stopped at a crossroads and waited for a mail truck to turn. “Sarah’s a great doctor and well-respected in the community. Once she convinced your parents you were okay and in good hands, it wasn’t that hard to get them to agree that you were safer where you were.” His smile turned rueful. “Your mom gave me an earful over the phone, though. For a while there I thought she might commandeer a snowmobile to come get you.”

  Izzy laughed. “She can be kind of scary when it comes to her chicks, as Hank calls us.”

  Luke nodded solemnly. “She reminds me of my mom.”

  They drove in silence for a few minutes. The closer they got to Freddie and Rissa’s, the more anxious she became. The thighs of her borrowed sweats grew damp from rubbing her clammy palms on them.

  “Are you okay, Isabelle?”

  “Are you sure I’m not a danger to them?” The words burst from her. “If I hurt them—”

  “Everything will be okay.”

  “How—”

  Luke pulled over, and pine boughs brushed the passenger window. He turned to her and squeezed her shoulder. “You’re not a monster, and neither is your wolf. Our beasts are reflections of us. They are a part of us as we are of them. It’s obvious how much you love your family. There is no way your wolf would ever hurt them.”

  God, she wanted to believe that. She’d rather die than hurt Abby, Hank, or Freddie. When the Department of Children and Family Services would have split Bess and Izzy up, the Dodds had taken them in and given them a home. And she and Bess had been anything but a sweet deal.

  Scared, bitter, and paranoid, Izzy and Bess hadn’t had a clue how to live in a normal home. All the happy chaos of a household full of foster kids, friends, and relatives made them so anxious they could barely function.

  They spoke only when asked a direct question. Ate only when told to do so. Left the house only when coaxed out. Months passed before they dared touc
h one of the numerous toys strewn throughout the house.

  They had their own bedroom, with white wood furniture and walls painted a sunny yellow. In the summer, there were sky-blue coverlets, and in the winter, cherry-red, down-filled comforters. There were hot breakfasts, packed lunches, and family dinners. Shelves filled with books and games, and presents on birthdays and Christmas. Baseball leagues, sledding in the park, and picnics at the lake. There was conversation and laughter, and groundings when needed.

  Everything that made up a happy home.

  Yet Bess and Izzy kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for someone to slap them in the face and scream at them for the audacity of hoping they might belong. And they lived in abject terror that they might prove themselves to be the monsters their grandmother said they were.

  “You have to swear, Luke,” she said. Her voice shook. “I don’t care what happens to me. Nothing is more important than my foster family’s safety.”

  Luke sucked in a breath, as if he were praying for patience. “Isabelle, I swear on the goddess of moon and stars, no harm will come to your family by you or your wolf. Why do you keep saying things like that? We’re not mindless, ravening beasts. We don’t forget who our friends and families are, or think, ‘Hey, that random human looks tasty.’”

  He pinned her with a look. “Lycanthropes haven’t cornered the market on violence. Humanity is full of murderers and psychopaths. I would think a veteran who has been in a war zone would know that.”

  With that, he put the truck in drive.

  My God, is that how I sound? Well, of course she did. Didn’t she tell him herself that lycanthropes didn’t have to be monsters? And he was right about human beings, too. Had what happened to her biological parents been any worse than what terrorist groups routinely did to innocent civilians? Bile rose in her throat. Freaking hell, I’m a bigot.

  Shock and shame glued her lips together. How could you apologize for insulting everything about a person? Before she could come up with something even approaching adequate, they wound around the final curve of Freddie and Rissa’s driveway. The modern home looked exactly the same as it had...what? Three days ago?

  Izzy took a deep breath and rolled her head, trying to loosen up the knots in her neck. Before Luke had even turned off the engine, the front door flew open and her foster mother ran onto the porch, Hank close on her heels. Abby shouted and hustled down the steps, the long tail of her wraparound sweater flapping behind her.

  Izzy didn’t have time to tell Luke to brace himself for the onslaught before her door was yanked open and Abby was there.

  “Oh! Izzy! Thank you, sweet Jesus. Thank you for bringing our girl home,” Abby cried, her soft, strong hands patting Izzy’s face and hair and arms. “Oh! Where does it hurt, baby? Are you in pain? Shouldn’t you be in the hospital? Oh! Let me look at you.”

  Izzy couldn’t answer since Abby had pulled her into a hug tight enough to compress her rib cage. “Ack.”

  “Abby—Abby, let go of the poor girl. You’re crushing the life out of her.” Hank’s sandpaper baritone brought tears to Izzy’s eyes. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he pulled his wife off of her.

  “Hey, Hank, Abby,” Izzy said, a distinct roughness in her own voice. She slid out of the truck. “It’s good to see you.”

  “Oh!” Abby embraced her again, but much gentler this time. “You’re nothing but skin and bones,” she said in a whisper, and a fist closed around Izzy’s heart.

  Abby dashed a tear off her face, the gray morning light making her brown skin seem darker. She kissed Izzy on the cheek, sniffled, and passed her off to Hank, who took one look at her gaunt face and scowled.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I know you don’t like the mushy stuff, but—” Hank wrapped her up in his strong, flannel-covered arms. He smelled like Dial soap and metal—from a life spent working on engines—same as he always did. Familiar and warm.

  Next to Abby, Freddie was balancing on a pair of crutches and shooting dirty looks at Luke, while Rissa whispered in his ear. The female werewolf seemed fine. She wasn’t favoring her arm or guarding her stomach. Guess healthy weres did heal fast.

  Relief made Izzy’s knees wobble. “You’re all right.”

  He grabbed her by the front of her jacket and tugged her into a one-armed embrace. “Jesus, Iz. Don’t ever do that to me again.” Freddie glared at her. “I’d smack ya upside the back of the head, but I hear you have a concussion. Wouldn’t want to scramble your egg any more than it already is.”

  She laughed, as he’d meant her to.

  “That,” Abby said, pointing a finger in his face, “and I wouldn’t make you any breakfast if you did, mister.”

  “Aw, Mom,” Freddie whined, like the perpetual twelve-year-old he was.

  “As for you, young lady,” Abby said, whirling on Izzy. “What on God’s good earth have you been doing to yourself? You’re a skeleton. Don’t you dare try to tell me you got this way over the last few days. Don’t they have grocery stores in DC?” Abruptly, her eyes swam with more tears.

  Damn it. “Abby, please don’t cry. I was...” Desperate, she searched for the right word: sick, terrified, delusional? She shrugged. “I’m better now. I swear.”

  Luke stepped into their group then. He laid a hand on Izzy’s shoulder and slid it over to the back of her neck, causing her skin to tingle. Sticking out a hand in Hank’s direction, he said, “Hello, Mr. Dodd, Mrs. Dodd. I’m Luke Wyland. We spoke on the phone.”

  Hank’s eyes narrowed on him and Abby’s brows crept up toward her hairline.

  “Luke’s one of the people who rescued me,” Izzy blurted. “And a good friend of Rissa’s. Right, Rissa?”

  Obviously no dummy, Rissa swooped in, looping her arm around Freddie’s waist. Izzy noticed she pinched him. “Right,” Rissa said brightly. “Friends since we were babies. So, why don’t we get the walking wounded inside and get them some breakfast? Hmm?”

  “You’re touching her,” Abby said, not moving an inch, amazement in her voice.

  Izzy blushed and Luke’s thumb brushed over her nape, creating goose bumps. “Yes, ma’am,” he said.

  “She’s letting you touch her,” Hank said as if he hadn’t heard his wife.

  “Um...” Izzy tried not to squirm.

  “How hard did you hit your head, Izzy?” Hank asked.

  Freddie snorted. “Pretty damn hard, if you ask me.”

  Izzy scowled. “No one asked you.”

  Abby pushed Hank out of her way. “Well, I, for one, am so grateful to you, Mr. Wyland.”

  “Call me Luke, please.”

  “Luke.” She beamed a watery smile at him. “Then I’m Abby and this is Hank.”

  “Mr. Dodd is fine,” Hank said, appraising Luke in a way that made Izzy’s palms sweat more.

  Abby elbowed Hank in the gut. “Nonsense.” She turned back to Luke. “Thank you for taking care of our girl and bringing her back to us. We couldn’t do without her.” Before Luke could answer, Abby threw her arms around him and pulled him down for a hug.

  When Abby released Luke with a kiss on the cheek, he wore a bemused expression. “You’re welcome. Isabelle is very special.”

  Abby gave him another radiant smile. “We think so.” She clapped her hands. “All right, come on. Let’s get inside before we all turn into Popsicles. Freddie, be careful on those steps. Luke, dear, you’re staying for breakfast, aren’t you?”

  “Wouldn’t miss it,” Luke said, pulling Izzy’s hand into his.

  “Wonderful,” Abby said, from the house door. “Hank, you come on now, too. Izzy doesn’t need you hovering over her and her new friend.”

  Hank gave Luke a long look. “Hmmph.” Then he followed Abby into the house.

  As the sound of voices disappeared, Izzy pulled Luke to a stop. “I’m sorry. About before. In the truck. What you said...well, I—ugh. It’
s complicated. There’s a lot of shit in my past. Doesn’t mean I should throw it at you. You’re right. I’ll try harder to get over myself.”

  “Isabelle.” His soft smile made butterflies dance in her stomach—and not because she was hungry. He ran the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “I like when you tell me I’m right. Feel free to do it more often.”

  Before she could pop him one, the distinctive sound of a throat being cleared came from inside the door. Heat rushed into her face again. Just when she thought she might not look like a tomato for a few minutes.

  Luke’s smile widened. “Guess we shouldn’t keep your parents waiting.”

  A ridiculous thought struck her, and she burst into a fit of giggles.

  “What?” Luke said, holding her arm, as she climbed the porch steps.

  “I just realized that this is the first time I’ve ever brought a man home to meet my parents.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “And you’re not even a man.” She snorted with laughter at his disgruntled look. “Lots of firsts for me this week. First time I willingly talked to a were. First time I shifted.” She shuddered. “First time I ate meat in twenty-five years. It’s like some insane puberty has kicked in.”

  Luke snorted, then pulled her to a stop just outside the door. The heated look in his eyes erased her idiotic laughter. He leaned in, his mouth inches from her own. “Just so we’re clear, sugar, I may not be a man, but I’m all male. In every way that matters. Especially where it matters.”

  Gulp.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Izzy tried to relax as Abby and Rissa bustled around the kitchen making breakfast. Between the hostile looks Hank and Freddie were shooting Luke, the hot ones Luke was sending her, and the scents of sizzling bacon and eggs, she was about to run screaming from the room. If Freddie and Hank hadn’t boxed her in at the island, she might have.

  “Here, honey,” Abby said, setting a steaming bowl of oatmeal in front of her. “Eat up. I want to see you finish that whole thing.”

  “Thanks, Abby. Looks great.”