First Moon (The Ternion Order Book 1)

by Daniel R. Marvello

  Wow. Kyle decided that Clarissa was either younger than he originally thought, or she took remarkably good care of herself. She leaned over to the nightstand and turned a knob that extinguished the table lamps and sent power to a series of tiny white lights that went all the way around the room where the ceiling met the wall. It was like being outside at night with a sky full of stars. The diminished light made her look even more alluring, subtly erasing her few flaws.

  Kyle had no doubt that Clarissa wanted to control the action, and he was fine with that. He let her fold down the bed covers, undress him, and then guide him onto the bed. She reached into the top drawer of the nightstand and withdrew a condom, which she deftly applied. In a tangle of lips and limbs, Kyle followed her lead and gave himself over to the most delicious sexual encounter of his life.

  At last, Clarissa straddled him with her fingers digging into his chest. They moved together, her hair swinging down around her face. As Kyle neared the limit of his ability to restrain himself, she stiffened and gasped almost as if she were in pain. Kyle smiled to himself when she moaned and started moving again, thinking he no longer had a reason to hold back.

  With his hands resting on her hips, he closed his eyes and relaxed into the sensations of their lovemaking. Her movements became more frantic and her fingers arched until her fingernails were like claws digging into his chest. Her moan had turned into a series of low growls that was both sexy and scary at the same time. Kyle didn’t want to do anything to interrupt the moment, but her fingernails were digging in hard enough to be painful.

  He moved his hands up to her wrists and opened his eyes.

  Clarissa leaned forward and pressed harder on his chest. But she also sped up her rocking motion and Kyle forgot all about the pain. He tightened his grip on her wrists and matched her tempo until he couldn’t take it anymore. With a grunting sigh, he let go and rode a satisfying wave of release.

  At the moment of Kyle’s grand finale, Clarissa drove her hips down onto him and held him in place. She arched her back and let out a throaty scream that was nearly a howl. Kyle instinctively froze in response to her chilling cry and goose bumps rose in the aftermath of a tremor that passed through him from head to toe. When she quieted and collapsed on top of him with a sigh, he was glad that they weren’t in a hotel room or apartment. They’d have had neighbors banging on the walls or door for sure.

  Clarissa rolled off him, trailing her hand across his chest. A cooling wet sensation made him look down, and he was alarmed to see that her fingers had left thin blood trails that streaked across his chest from tiny crescent-shaped fingernail wounds.

  As the scent of blood reached his nostrils and mingled with the musky fragrance of their intercourse, a strong wave of dizziness washed over Kyle, robbing him of consciousness.

  Kyle awoke with a mild headache from the prior evening’s indulgences. At some point during the night, he had pulled a cover over himself, but otherwise he was still naked and unwashed.

  Opening his eyes, he was briefly disoriented by his surroundings and the unfamiliar feel of the sheets and bed. Where am I? What happened?

  As memories from the prior evening resolved in his mind, he turned his head to the side. Clarissa lay there, her face relaxed in peaceful sleep.

  A lock of hair draped across her cheek. He reached over to move it aside, but moving his arm caused a crusty tightness and stinging on his chest. He looked down and found dried blood trails crossing his chest. The puncture marks from her fingernails reminded him of the surreal experience of the night before. He snorted to himself. A little pain was worth it.

  Kyle’s fingers grazed her face as he shifted the lock of hair. He jerked his hand back when his fingers touched skin that was cool and slightly stiff—not the warm, soft flesh he had enjoyed the previous night. He scrambled away from her and jumped out of the bed, staring agape at her unmoving form. She wasn’t breathing and her body didn’t move with the shifting of the bed as it should have.

  Clarissa was dead.

  Kyle’s heart pounded so hard that he could feel the blood pulsing in his neck. He shook from the adrenaline coursing through his veins and he had a strong desire to run. He looked for his clothes and pulled on his underwear and pants, nearly tripping in the rush to dress. Finding his shirt, he stopped and looked down at her.

  What should I do? Why is she dead? Did I kill her?

  Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, Kyle tried to think. The last thing he remembered was passing out after she rolled off him. Judging by the unchanged position of her body, she was already dead by that time or she’d died as soon as she came to rest next to him. The fingernails of the hand that lay on the place he’d vacated were still tipped in his blood, which was dried now and nearly matched the dark-red polish she wore.

  Dread crawled through Kyle, tightening his chest and making his stomach twist. He put his hand over his mouth and swallowed an urge to gag. He was in big trouble. A vibrant and healthy woman was dead, with his blood and possibly his skin under her fingernails.

  Running wasn’t a realistic option. He couldn’t involve anyone who knew him. He’d have to call a cab or steal her car. But the police would surely find the cab driver during their investigation, and her car drew far too much attention.

  Besides, he’d done nothing wrong. The cops would figure that out, right? They would undoubtedly see him as a suspect at first, but an autopsy would have to reveal what really happened. I hope.

  Kyle finished dressing while he considered his next move. The only thing to do was to call the police and get this over with. He looked at the clock. Five thirty in the morning. It was starting to get light outside, which was probably what had awakened him.

  Clarissa certainly didn’t wake him. She slept like the dead. Kyle giggled in distress at the inappropriate humor. This wasn’t his fault! What would the cops charge him with? Screwing her to death? Kyle’s hysterical giggling turned into tears and he covered his face with his hands. He tried to get his hiccupping sobs under control and wiped the moisture from his eyes.

  A phone was on the night stand next to Clarissa’s side of the bed.

  Kyle walked around the bed, staring down at Clarissa’s nude body. The lithe form that had seemed so sexy last night was now an object of horror. He was relieved to see no obvious marks or bruises that would point a finger at him, and the only blood on the sheets or on Clarissa was his. He was tempted to draw the sheet over her to cover her nakedness, but he’d seen enough cop shows on television to know that he shouldn’t touch or change anything. This was now a possible crime scene.

  Picking up the phone, Kyle dialed 911.

  Two sheriff’s deputies and an ambulance arrived within fifteen minutes of his call to secure the scene and take his statement. The deputies were professional and calm, and they seemed to accept Kyle’s narrative of what happened.

  The female deputy, who had introduced herself as Deputy Arpin, noticed the blood on Clarissa’s fingernails and asked Kyle about it. Kyle opened his shirt and blushed when he showed her the fingernail marks on his chest. She instructed Kyle to have the medics treat the wounds after the detective had a chance to photograph them.

  The detective arrived about ten minutes after the deputies and took control of the scene. He had his own questions for Kyle, many of which were uncomfortable. No, Kyle had never met Clarissa before last night. No, in spite of the fact that it appeared Clarissa liked to play rough, they didn’t engage in asphyxiation games or other dangerous activities. They had used no drugs other than alcohol.

  Shortly after the detective arrived, the medical examiner and the CSI team showed up. Kyle didn’t see what happened in the bedroom, but after a few minutes, the medics rolled a gurney through the living room where the detective was still questioning Kyle. As Clarissa’s body rolled by, Kyle closed his eyes and hung his head.

  What a nightmare.

  The medical examiner found no evidence that Kyle had been directly responsible for Clarissa’s dea
th, so the detective did not place him under arrest. He warned Kyle that he was still a person of interest in the investigation and that he would need to remain available for additional questions. The deputies offered Kyle a ride home, which he gratefully accepted.

  When the officers dropped Kyle off at his house, Deputy Arpin opened the door of the cruiser for him. As he climbed out of the backseat, she handed him a business card and then closed the car door.

  Keeping her voice low, she said, “Give Dr. Rutlinger a call if you need help dealing with any unusual side effects from your ordeal.”

  Kyle looked down at the card. All that was printed on it was “Dr. Adolphus Rutlinger” with an address and phone number. Kyle couldn’t tell from the card what kind of doctor Rutlinger was. Kyle absently touched the bandaged wounds on his chest. “You mean like for an infection? Or counseling?”

  The deputy smiled. She said, “Whatever you need,” and got back into the patrol car. The officers drove away, leaving Kyle confused and standing on the sidewalk with the card in his hand.

  Chapter 4

  Symptomatic

  Kyle walked into McWort’s, his favorite local brewpub, and took a seat at a small table near the entrance. His seat overlooked the small brewing area where the owners brewed their tap beers. The microbrewery fermented some pretty mild fare—mostly “session ales,” in brewing terms—but it went well with food and was suited to palates accustomed to the barley pop produced by the large American breweries.

  What brought Kyle back time after time wasn’t their beer, it was their veggie burger. They served a patty made from their own recipe that was the best Kyle had ever tasted. Kyle’s mouth watered just thinking about pepper jack melted across the patty with alfalfa sprouts on a whole-grain, poppy-seed kaiser roll. His stomach grumbled in anticipation.

  Kyle looked around for a familiar face, scratching absently at the front of his shirt. It had been a little over a week since the terrifying incident at Clarissa’s home, but his chest still ached and itched where her fingernails had dug in. He caught himself scratching and stopped. It never seemed to make the discomfort go away, and anyone observing him would think he had fleas or something. The itch was probably all in his mind anyway, since the wounds had healed and practically vanished by the next day. Maybe this was one of the things Deputy Arpin was talking about when she’d mentioned “unusual side effects.” Perhaps trauma victims routinely picked up odd quirks.

  Thankfully, the sheriff’s department had contacted him only once since the incident. They basically called to say he was off the hook. Clarissa had a known heart problem and had been taking medication for it for years. She didn’t let it slow her down though. Associates testified that she habitually pushed herself harder than she should have, refusing to let her illness take control of her life. The coroner confirmed that she had died from natural causes due to her medical condition, not from any criminal action on Kyle’s part. Kyle was relieved, but he wished Clarissa had picked someone else to be her final partner.

  Kyle had arrived at McWort’s early, before prime lunch time, so the brewpub was sparsely populated with patrons. He saw no familiar faces, which was fine. Earlier in the week, the newspaper had run a short article on Clarissa’s death. It included a quote from Kyle, and some rather embarrassing details of the events leading up to the tragedy. Thank goodness the only picture they’d run was one of Clarissa.

  The waitress came by not long after he sat down, and Kyle ordered the veggie burger with fries as well as the house porter. He glanced at his watch. He had given himself plenty of time to get some food and then meet Greg and Deb at the marina for an afternoon sail.

  When the food arrived, Kyle started eating with enthusiasm. After a few bites though, he put the burger down. It didn’t taste right, but he couldn’t tell exactly why. He waited until the waitress came by again and waved her over.

  She was carrying a platter with several plates on it. “Can I get you something?” she asked pleasantly.

  An aroma from the top plate on her stack caught Kyle’s attention. The plate had a mostly eaten hamburger on it, and the bit of meat patty that remained was red and juicy. Kyle had given up red meat the prior year and had never missed it, but the leftover burger made him lick his lips.

  Kyle tore his eyes away from the food and focused on the waitress, who was waiting for his reply. “Uh, yeah, I have a question about the veggie burger. Did you guys change the recipe or something?”

  She shook her head. “No … not that I know of. Is there something wrong with it?”

  Kyle looked down at his plate. “I’m not sure. I get this all the time, but it tastes funny today.”

  The waitress leaned down and took his plate. “I’m sorry. Let me take that. Would you like me to get you another one, or do you want something else?”

  Kyle glanced at the burger again. “You know, I think I’ll have a regular burger today. Cooked like that one,” he said, angling his head toward her platter.

  The waitress smiled. “No problem. Medium rare then? Coming right up.”

  After she left, Kyle shook his head in dismay. The thought of eating a regular hamburger didn’t appeal at all, but his body seemed to be craving real meat. Maybe it was some kind of vitamin deficiency related to the stress of the past week. He hoped eating meat after all this time wouldn’t make him sick.

  With the first juicy bite, Kyle’s doubts about his decision evaporated. Suddenly famished, he consumed half the burger in four bites and then set it down to catch his breath and take a sip of his porter.

  “That was impressive. I’m guessing you haven’t eaten for a few days?”

  Kyle looked up, not recognizing the woman who had spoken. She stood next to his table with her purse slung over her shoulder. She had apparently just entered the brewpub and been treated to his swinish display. Her full lips were curved into a friendly smile that carried up into her hazel eyes. Straight, dark-brown hair flowed down her back and curved over the swell of her breasts in front.

  “Sorry you had to witness that,” Kyle said. “It’s been a rough week.”

  The woman hung her purse strap over the back of the chair opposite Kyle. “Mind if I join you?” she asked as she slid into the seat.

  Kyle glanced around the brewpub. The lunch crowd had starting filtering in, but plenty of tables were still open. Why she would want to sit with him was unclear, but he could do worse for an eating companion. Still, she was being a bit presumptuous.

  “Please, have a seat,” Kyle said sardonically, holding out his right hand toward the chair she now occupied.

  She didn’t miss a beat. She took his hand in hers and shook it. “Thank you. I’m Amanda.”

  Her hand was small and cool. When they shook, a charge went up his arm, and he nearly jerked his hand back.

  “Sorry,” she said, releasing his hand. “I’m a little static-y today. I think it’s the shoes.”

  “I’m Kyle. Pleased to meet you, Amanda.”

  The waitress came to the table and asked Amanda if she’d like to order anything. Amanda asked for a half sandwich and salad.

  Kyle had stopped eating the moment Amanda arrived. After the waitress left, Amanda insisted he go ahead and finish his meal while it was still warm.

  She nodded toward his plate. “You like your burgers with some pink in them.”

  Kyle picked up the half-eaten burger and stared at it. “You know, normally I’d have a veggie burger. This is the first red meat I’ve eaten in over a year.” Kyle took a bite and savored the warm, juicy texture and the slight tang of the rare center.

  Amanda’s food arrived and she started on her salad. “You mentioned you had a rough week,” she said between bites. “Do you want to talk about it?”

  With a stranger?

  Her question seemed oddly personal, considering they’d just met. Kyle grew suspicious of how easily she had placed herself at his table.

  “Are you a reporter or something?” he asked.

  She smil
ed and tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No. Just nosy, I guess.” She took a bite of her sandwich, watching him while she chewed.

  Kyle wiped his hands on his napkin and rested his forearms on the table. “I think I’d better go now.” He looked around for the waitress.

  “Kyle, wait,” she said, drawing his attention back to her. “Don’t go.” She reached across the table toward him, but her hand grazed the top of her water glass and the stemmed goblet tilted toward Kyle.

  Kyle reacted without thinking. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Her light bump pushed the glass past the tipping point and the water inside sloshed toward the rim, speeding its descent. Kyle’s hand reached the half-full glass an instant before the water rolled over the rim, and in one smooth motion, he righted it and pulled it toward him exactly enough to compensate for the motion of the water. The next thing he knew, he was holding up her glass and the water inside it was perfectly still.

  Amanda blinked at the goblet a couple of times. “Nice reflexes,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  Kyle set her glass back down where it had been, suspecting she might have tipped it over on purpose. “What do you want, Amanda?”

  “Just some friendly conversation.” She kept eating her sandwich as if nothing had happened.

  Kyle picked up a fry and chewed on it, considering the pretty girl across from him. He guessed she was about his age, maybe a little younger. She seemed relaxed and confident, but there was an edge of excitement in her voice and a sparkle in her eyes. Like she knew something he didn’t and was dying to tell him about it. The only odd thing about her was the earring that she’d revealed when she’d pulled her hair back. It was a silver pentagram.

  “You know who I am, don’t you?” he said. “Coming in here and sitting at my table was no coincidence.”

  Amanda put her sandwich down. All that remained was a corner of crust. She used her napkin and shrugged. “Okay, yes. I know who you are and what happened last week.”