Bound to the Moon

by Kristy Centeno

  Chapter Two

  I find Marquis in his office. As of late, it’s become his refuge of choice. He spends more time there than any part of the house. He’s even relinquished the burden of keeping me company during my episodes while I’m locked in the cellar. This is unusual, but I know he has a lot to worry about lately.

  I’m not his only concern anymore.

  I walk in without bothering to knock. He’s on the phone. By the look on his face, I can tell he’s not happy. The sound of his rapidly beating heart reveals his agitation.

  Lately, he’s a lot crabbier. I’m partly responsible. He’s finding it more and more difficult to control me. My episodes are becoming increasingly more frequent. Because I’ve never given into temptation—never consumed human flesh is a better way of putting it—the effects my curse has on my body are unbearable. The urge to go out and take a life nearly consumes me at times. My inner beast takes over completely and for those few days, Kyran gets buried deep inside the monster reigning inside of me.

  It’s gotten so bad I haven’t been able to fight the temptation and on those days, my family is forced to lock me away to keep me from hurting anyone. My inner monster might take full possession of my body every now and again, but I’ll be damned if I let it consume my soul. There’s a little humanity in me still and as long as I have that going for me I’m willing to fight—even if I don’t stand much of a chance.

  “Call me as soon as you have an answer,” Marquis says, effectively ending the call by slamming the receiver down on the table. He looks at me, his eyes glowing, and says, “Did you find out where the beta hideout is?”

  I plop onto the seat in front of the desk and let out some air. I’m still exasperated over the scene in the woods. Had Gage not interfered, I probably would have more answers than questions. “No. We did not.”

  He shakes his head in frustration and runs one hand down his face. “Nothing is going accordingly.”

  “They’re not going to reveal their location. Every time we pursue them, they lead us back to the road. Your tactic isn’t working, Marquis.”

  His eyes narrow. “It worked in the past.”

  “True,” I say, tapping my fingers on the chair’s armrests. It’s a nervous habit. I do it when I’m on edge. Like right now. “But these wolves know what we want. They know we’re after them. They’re not going to reveal their hideouts that easily.”

  Marquis turns to the computer on his desk, and clicks the mouse a few times before standing and stalking off to the window on my left. He stands with his hands behind his back, staring into the distance. An awkward silence fills the room.

  I wait, as patiently as I can, for him to say what’s on his mind. Out of the five of us, Marquis is an expert at cloaking his thoughts so I can’t read what he’s thinking. I can’t see what’s going on in that head of his so I wait.

  “There are more of them in the area,” he mumbles at last.

  My eyebrows arch in astonishment. “How do you know?”

  The number of werewolves in the area has increased since we moved here, but I haven’t detected any dramatic changes since the incident with Santos. Marquis’s observation has unsettled me.

  He doesn’t provide my question with an answer but instead adds, “And there are more of them heading this way.”

  “How do you know?” I try again.

  “I think they’re preparing to move in, quickly. There’s no doubt in my mind that Marjorie is their number one target.” He points to me and then to himself with one finger. “We are just in the way.”

  I slam my fist on the table, regretting it the moment I do. My broken fingers had begun to heal, but by using the same hand to pound the table, I have sabotaged the healing process. And now I’m definitely feeling the pain.

  “How do you know?” I ask for a third time, shaking my hand in an effort to calm the throbbing in my fingers. “How do you know there are others heading this way? How much time do we have before they get here?”

  Alexis and Gage walk in. Even though they just returned to the house, I have no doubt they have heard every word Marquis and I have exchanged up to this moment. Our sensitive hearing is that powerful.

  “I was in town while you three were out. I counted fifteen of them. Fifteen! In such a relatively small settlement. Most of them were betas. Born human and recently converted. It appears the alpha has been busily creating an army which he brought from out of town. But they are here now. Under whose orders? That I don’t know, but they know about us.”

  “Fifteen?” Alexis walks up to the desk, places a hand on the wooden frame but snatches it right back when the wood cracks and splits down the middle. It doesn’t crumple into a pile on the floor, but I’m sure the second someone else touches it the desk won’t hold its weight up any longer. “Your handiwork?” He looks at me and frowns.

  I shrug.

  “At this rate we’ll go broke by having to replace so much furniture,” Alexis murmurs. I hear him just fine but decide not to comment. My concerns are far more important than what I may or may have not broken over the past week, which have been quite a few things I must add.

  “To the point in case, please,” I say, turning my attention to Marquis.

  “We followed two of them, but lost them by the woods,” Alexis says.

  I snort. Lost? More like Gage let them go. “They hit the road. They always hit the road.”

  “Except this time backup arrived,” Alexis adds. “About ten of them.”

  “Ten as backup. Fifteen in town. The numbers are rapidly climbing.” Marquis releases a rush of air. “We need to have a family meeting to discuss our next course of action.”

  Next course of action? I don’t like the sound of that. We’ve been keeping a secret from Marjorie. Well, secrets actually. And I know there’s a big chance she’ll be very angry at me for not being honest with her from the beginning. We had our reasons for holding back, but it’s her life at stake here. She might not understand we only meant to protect her. Still do. But what we have to say may sound ludicrous to her.

  “Don’t you think Marjorie should be present to have a say?” I don’t look at anyone. I keep my gaze on my two broken fingers just starting to go through the healing process again. “We can’t make decisions about her without consulting her.”

  Alexis moves away from the desk and sits in the seat next to mine. “Kyran has a valid point. Marjorie won’t appreciate us taking liberties with her life. Even if we’re trying to keep her alive and safe.”

  “Marjorie is a smart girl. She’ll understand,” Gage adds.

  I’m not too sure I agree with Gage. Marjorie is a smart girl, but the depth of what we have to reveal to her would be a challenge for anyone to take in. Had I not been a werewolf myself, I know it would be hard for me to comprehend.

  “In reality, we thought we’d have more time to get her used to the idea, but that’s no longer a possibility. If we know about Marjorie that means this invading alpha does too. We no longer have the advantage of time. We have to come clean and hope for the best,” Marquis says.

  I stare at my hand, but my thoughts are conflicted. I wish we didn’t have to put Marjorie through this. If I could keep her safe and alive without telling her what we know, I would.

  “If we are going to come clean we might as well go all the way,” Alexis shifts on the seat. I pick up on his stiff posture and know I’m not going to like what he’s going to say next. “She needs to know about the bonding.”

  I shoot out of my seat in one quick move, and stare down at Alexis. “No. She doesn’t need to know about that.”

  He looks up at me and glares right back. “You want to inform her of the things that are only convenient for you?”

  “Convenient? How is admitting that I know so much more than I ever let on convenient for me? If she’s going to be upset with someone...that someone’s going to be me.”

  “She has to know, Kyran,” Alexis insists.

  “No.” My voice is low, dead
ly. There’s a line I’m not willing to cross and this is it.

  “Ultimately, the choosing will not be up to you.”

  There are times I can’t stand my twin and this is one of them. He’s pushing a subject I’m not comfortable with and is risking getting another beat down.

  “Kyran, be sensible. Marjorie has every right to know. We must come clean. About everything.”

  I whirl around to face Marquis, my eyes glowing a bright shade of silver. “Sensible? I believe that job befalls you, brother. I don’t have time to be sensible. Contrary to you, I live day by day, hour by hour and I don’t want to sacrifice what little time I have with Marjorie. Call me selfish if that makes you feel better, but my time is limited by my condition.” I can already feel the hunger eating at me from the inside. The beginning of another episode is a day or two away at best. “If what you want is to give her a chance to choose correctly, go ahead, but don’t expect me to stand beside you and keep my peace about it. I won’t do it.”

  I storm out of the room before I get tempted to break someone’s face. Alexis is the one getting the brunt of my bad mood lately and I don’t want to start another fight with him.

  “Kyran, wait!” Alexis’ voice sounds right behind me but I don’t stop to listen. I need to keep my distance now so I make my way into the kitchen, grab a Coke from the fridge, walk over to the dining room table, and pull out a chair. I sit down, open the can, and take a long swig of the bubbly refreshment before setting it down on the table.

  Often times my temper gets the best of me, but I have plenty of reasons to be angry. I don’t use my curse as an excuse to take out my frustration on others. That’s not really the case, but I’ve lived in this dark world for so long I have gotten completely used to it. I rely on my anger to get me by day by day. It’s no way of living, but I have little choice. Anything is better than going out to hunt for the wrong prey.

  When I’m angry, I know it’s for a reason. Happiness, however, is something entirely harder to digest. Whenever I’m at peace with myself I tend to forget how dangerous I can become in a matter of seconds. That’s one of the main reasons being around Marjorie scares me so much. I’m not good for her. I should let destiny take its rightful place and convey her wherever she’s destined to be. But I’m stubborn and I’m not ready to give her up.

  Not yet.

  The cons far outweigh the pros in my life. There have been little encouragements to keep me going. I grew tired years ago of existing the way I do. In my effort to have a relatively normal life, I’d grown attached to another human girl during my early teenage years and my mistake not only cost me her life but my parents’ as well. I’ve carried that burden with me for a long time.

  Things changed when I met Marjorie. Initially, I was so taken by her that I wanted to get to know her better. Against my better judgment, I tried to get a nice, friendly friendship going—I liked her. Felt comfortable around her. Was taken by her geniality. But it didn’t take long for me to realize who she was and the danger I represented when it came to her. I realized rather quickly that the more time I spent with her, the more my inner monster tried to crawl out.

  That’s when I decided to push her away. Tried to convince her I was a complete jerk, but she wasn’t easily persuaded. She quickly turned into something much more significant than just a random girl whom I liked. She became my only wish. I’m not holding on to her because I need her, but because she gives me hope.

  Hope isn’t something I ever thought I’d feel again.

  I care for her truly, deeply, and because I care for her, I should stop trying to fool myself into believing we might have a chance. Nothing good will come of our closeness. How can it when she’s all good and I’m far from perfect.

  The problem is me. It’s always me. I want to turn my back on her. I know I should, but every time I think of a life without her, my heart constricts inside my chest. Life had no meaning for me before I—quite literally—walked into that classroom and spotted her sitting at the back of the class.

  Nothing has been the same ever since.

  “You’re so freaking hardheaded.” Alexis strolls in, doing a great job at breaking me from my thoughts, and walks to the fridge, which he opens to retrieve another can of Coke. He imitates each of my movements by shutting the refrigerator door, ambling to the table, and taking a seat to my left. He opens the can, and takes a long swig before settling it on the table just as I did only moments before.

  I stare in astonishment. I guess we’re not that different after all. Every now and again, we do things exactly the same way. I hate it but Alexis finds it quite amusing. He thinks it’s even funnier because we don’t do it on purpose.

  Alexis looks at me, his facial expression locked in a scowl. I know he has a lot on his mind. Some I’m able to pick up on—as werewolf twins we share much more than a connection—our thoughts often interfere with one another’s. The thing is Alexis doesn’t always know when to take a hint. He can sense I’m not in the mood for this conversation but he pushes on anyway.

  “Tell me something,” he starts, sounding determined to speak what’s on that twisted mind of his. “Have you ever felt the full effects of being denied?”

  I try my best to keep from flinching. I haven’t ever been denied, but then again I’d never aspired to gain a mate to share the rest of my immortal life with. That isn’t the case anymore, however.

  “No.” My jaw becomes instantly tense. I’m trying to manage my anger but that’s not easy. Most of the time, anger just comes flowing out without any effort on my part. It’s a natural reaction at this point in my life. I can’t help it.

  “Then you can’t possibly understand what I’m going through,” he says. His gray eyes scrutinize me and I can feel him trying to read my thoughts but I push him out. I don’t want him to know how conflicted I am right now. In spite of the hostility between us, I do care for my brother. And I don’t like what I pick up from him. He’s confused. Hurt. Feeling dejected. A lot of it has to do with Marjorie and me.

  “You’re right. But you will never know how I feel either so I guess that makes us even,” I retort, not intentionally trying to sound as sarcastic as I realize I do. Sarcasm is high on the list of my many flaws.

  Alexis’ chin lifts in defiance. “That’s true, too, but right now we’re talking about Marjorie.”

  “We are not talking about Marjorie. You are. I don’t want to have this conversation.” I reach for my can of Coke, fully intending to use the bubbly liquid to stop my mouth from adding more insensible remarks but Alexis grabs the aluminum container and sets it out of reach.

  “Whether you want to or not we have to discuss it at some point,” he tries again, working hard to get on my last nerve. Why is it that he can never leave things alone? He always has to pry and insist. And annoy me to death.

  I look at him squarely. “Alexis—”

  “Kyran. I know how you feel—”

  “How can you possibly know what I feel?” My fingers curl into the palms of my hands. My patience is once again wearing thin.

  “I’m your twin, remember? I know what you think. What you feel. I may not have your condition but that sure doesn’t stop me from feeling some of the side effects nonetheless.”

  His words are like a slap to the face. Alexis knows, probably better than anyone else, what goes through my head and body during my best and worst moments. We share a link unlike any other. Josephine and Gage are twins and even they don’t have as strong of a connection as Alexis and me.

  “What is it you want to say?” I lower my gaze to my fists resting on top of the table. I find it difficult to stare straight at him—especially since looking at him is like looking in a mirror.

  Alexis’s shoulders slump, I can see them go down through my peripheral vision.

  “None of us want to complicate Marjorie’s life any more than it already is, but we owe it to her to be honest. She has a right to know what’s really going on. We all agree it won’t be easy on her but
in order for her to make the right choice she must know what she’s up against.”

  I flinch as I hear him use the words right choice. What is the right choice? Alexis? Me? Who are we to determine that? How can we even be sure she wants to make that choice?

  “Neither you or I can make that decision for her. She has to do it on her own,” he adds. “I’m not stupid, Kyran. I know she prefers you. I can feel it, but it doesn’t make my life any easier. If anything...I’m left feeling denied and trust me that’s not a very pleasant feeling at all.”

  Denied, in the werewolf world, is the term used when a wolf has bonded with a potential mate but whose affection is not returned. In other words, Alexis has bonded with Marjorie but she had bonded with someone else...me.

  Basically, calling it denied is a less hurtful way of saying rejection. Not that it makes it less stressful for the spurned party. Especially when he’s my own flesh and blood.

  “I get it,” I say for lack of something better. Like I said earlier, I’ve never been denied. I never set my eyes on anyone worth setting my attention on.

  “Really?” Alexis sits back. “Because even though you’re aware of Marjorie’s preference for you, you still hesitate to be completely open with her.”

  I look up at him. I can’t help the sense of dread that washes over me. I’m being selfish and we both know it, but I don’t think I want to face the fact that Marjorie can and probably will ultimately decide I’m nothing but a truckload of trouble for her.

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Although if I can avoid it, I will try my best to. I don’t want to think about the future right now. The present has more than its fair share of problems.

  “We’ll see about that,” Alexis mumbles, completely aware of the fact that I can hear him.

  “Can I have my drink back?” I hold out my hand.

  Alexis slides the can across the table with the intent of letting it go passed my hand until it crashes to the floor, but my reflexes are faster than he anticipates and I catch it before it slips off the table.