Beneath the Broken Moon: Part One: Shifter/Vampire Romance (5 page)

He shoved me toward the bed, then pulled a set of keys out of his pocket.

Panic sent my pulse into overdrive. If I could have, I would’ve run, but I knew I’d never be safe. Not from the
Cazador,
as the
Teatro
incident proved, and not from him.

Uncle William was powerful. He’d made me feel safer with him than anywhere I’d been before coming into the Santiago household. But right now, he was wrong. Dead wrong.

The key turned in the lock with an ominous click.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Derek

I cracked my knuckles. The broken shards of glass had lain on my spare room’s floor long enough. If I didn’t want wind and red dust blowing through my house, I needed to cover the window and sweep up. I turned my attention to the jagged hole, still unable to believe I’d let her escape.

I nailed a large piece of cardboard and a sheet of plastic over the hole. If I didn’t fix this within the next day or two, I’d get a notice from the community. Guess I’d be going to the local hardware store. The
Cazador
hadn’t circled back since last night; they appeared to have moved on.

It wasn’t as if the city’s other residents demonstrated much upkeep of their areas, but everyone liked to believe things hadn’t changed from before the moon rained down to Earth. That meant keeping up with ridiculous regulations. When I took a deep breath, I could still smell her floral shampoo, still see her caramel-colored eyes, petite frame, and supple curves. Beyond her physical beauty, I appreciated her fire. She didn’t cower from me, regardless of her injuries.

I shifted my weight and glass crunched under my boot. My fist clenched on the broom, making the wooden handle groan under the pressure.
Damn...
I’d gotten caught up in daydreams again.

I should sweep up the glass from the downstairs walkway too. I might be fined if someone were stupid enough to walk down the alley and step on it, most likely some homeless person who might make a lovely snack.

I didn’t like going out of my way to deal with silly mortal rules. If I could have, I would’ve left city life behind, but food was scarce elsewhere. Humans felt safer in cities these days.

My thoughts drifted back to Carmela; my blood warmed, and I rubbed a hand through my hair. Her expression when she first smelled my breath had surprised me, but that interaction stuck like a note from a lover: the smile on her face, the way her eyes lit up when she giggled.

Shaking my head, I pushed the thought away. For all I knew, she might be out telling her people about me, ensuring the werewolves or even the
Cazador
would pursue me. I needed to be on alert. No reason to chance an attack. I’d lived this long; it would be a pity to die by a hunter’s bullet...or a werewolf’s claws.

Carmela’s face danced through my thoughts even as I swept up the broken glass. She was a werewolf; there was no reason I should be this taken with her. Swirls of blood marred the pavement, and I’d crouched to examine them when a breeze blew across my cheek.

Fellow High Council member Elliot Quinn stared down at me, his full lips quirked in a mischievous smile. “Looks like you’re busy dealing with a mess, mate.” Humor warmed his aristocratic features as he knelt, and his blue eyes showed too much curiosity.

“There was an incident. My window was broken, and someone must have stepped in the glass,” I said, keeping my tone flat. “What are you doing here?” I stood, holding the full dustpan in one hand.

“Just reminding you about the upcoming meeting. Lord Prescott showed much displeasure over you missing the last one.” His crisp British accent thickened, underscoring his worry. “I’d recommend you make this one a priority.” Elliot crossed his arms.

“Guess I need to check my calendar more often.” High Council meetings were the last thing I was interested in. I’d hoped my absence would signal that, but Lord Prescott was too stubborn to let go of his members.

I walked up the alley toward the back door, Elliot perfectly matching my stride. I knew Elliot was only looking out for me by passing on the message. We’d known each other a long time—in fact, he was the closest thing to a friend I had.

“I know you’ve begun to dislike politics, but you don’t have a choice. This is who you are: you’re a High Council member. You’ve known Prescott a long time, so you have a better idea than most how he can be when someone displeases him. You don’t want to put yourself in that position.” Elliot grabbed the door and held it open.

In the darkened kitchen, I emptied the bloody glass and dirt into the trash, then tossed the dustpan in the corner. Elliot was right; Prescott didn’t take kindly to insubordination. He’d been patient so far, but it wouldn’t last forever. I leaned against the counter and sighed. “Fine. I’ll be there.” Turning to Elliot, I added, “Don’t expect me to like it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He grinned, showing sharp, pointed fangs.

A breeze spread through the kitchen, and Elliot was gone. I only saw him leave because, as an older vampire, I could track his movements. I wished he’d be more careful about using his powers in front of others, though. Just because he could outrun the
Cazador
didn’t mean he was invincible.

This wasn’t like times gone by. Humans knew we existed now. We weren’t just boogeymen to make children behave. Carelessness was lethal.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Carmela

Dr. Matthews stifled a yawn. He’d obviously been asleep when Father called. His reddish-brown hair stuck out in all directions, and dark circles lined his green eyes as he gently unwrapped the sling. “Well, I see what happened: the silver bullet pierced the bone in your shoulder and came close to the artery. It’s a miracle it missed, but the silver is keeping you from healing properly. You’ll need to shift, but I wouldn’t advise that until the full moon in a few days. If you try too soon, you may further injure yourself.” He traced his gloved fingers around the bullet wound.

Agony ripped through me, and I sucked in a breath. I glanced between him and Mother, who stood nearby, staring at the wound critically. Her nursing instincts kicked in as Dr. Matthews doled out instructions for my care. I hated seeing her waste such a natural talent on a man like my father.

“Whoever took care of you has excellent precision. I couldn’t find a single bullet fragment in your shoulder. You must have a guardian angel.” Smiling, the doctor pulled out his supplies to wrap my arm in a new sling.

“Could I use the other one?” I didn’t want to raise suspicion, but having something on me Derek had touched felt right.

Dr. Matthews frowned, deepening the lines around his mouth.

“I was starting to get used to it.” I forced a bright smile. Or as bright as I could get manage with my arm hurting this much. It wasn’t like I would ever see Derek again, but at least I could keep his memory.

“Yes, of course.” Dr. Matthews nodded and placed the splint back into his bag.

Mother helped me into a sitting position and held me as Dr. Matthews wrapped my shoulder, then slid my arm back into the sling.

He angled his body away, and I wondered what he was doing. Then he turned to me with a needle, which he tapped lightly before reaching for my arm.

I scooted away. Pain was one thing, but I hated needles. I crawled to the other side of the bed, but before I could flee, Mother pressed a hand against my chest to hold me down.

Dr. Matthews gripped my arm, hard enough to hurt, but that didn’t matter. I writhed and bucked, trying to get away.

“Please, don’t.” My voice came out weak and helpless. “Please. I’m okay.”

“Carmela, don’t be silly,” he said.

My mind flashed to the hazing I’d been through in the Militia. The other wolves had held me and jabbed sharp needles into my skin, thinking they could break me of my fear. It only made things worse. My time in the Militia had been hell on Earth.

“Mother, please. Let me go. I’m fine, seriously.” I stared up at her. A sharp jab stung my arm, and I bit my lip hard as tears streamed over my cheeks.

“It’ll be okay, Carmela. We know you don’t like needles. We’ve gone over this before—it’s for your own good. You need your rest, and we’re just helping you sleep. Just calm down.” Mother’s face blurred. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

I blinked, trying to fight the drugs. “Don’t...like needles.” Lightheadedness kept me in the bed, even though I wanted to run.

Dr. Matthews’s face came into view. “This is for your own good, doll. If you don’t rest, your body won’t be able to focus on healing that shoulder. Your father wants you to be in good shape for your mate. You don’t want to give the wrong impression.” He smiled and brushed a strand of hair from my forehead. “I’ll check on you tomorrow.”

This wasn’t about my pain; it was about Father’s plans being executed the way he saw fit. He didn’t want anything to mess up the first encounter I had with my mate, not even me. I was in my birthing prime. He wanted me to have the sons he’d wanted for himself, sons my mother had denied him, instead of the daughter he barely held back spite for. He only thought about himself. Who cared how Mother felt? He was the center of his universe.

I groaned, surrendering to the drugs.

CHAPTER NINE

Derek

Night descended, allowing me to once more travel about the city. I pushed open the hardware store’s door, and a bell chimed over my head. The people inside were crowded along aisles filled with everything from hammers to screwdrivers to ladders. Several of the customers stopped and stared, as if expecting an attack.

Charles, the older owner, stood behind an old cash register at the checkout counter and waved, a big smile on his wrinkled face. “Come on in, Derek. It’s been a while. What can I get you?”

Tension left the store in a rush, and everyone returned to browsing the aisles again.

“Someone broke one of my windows last night. Need to get it fixed before the community finds out.” I slid Charles a piece of scratch paper with the measurements on it.

“Sorry to hear about that. You sure do need that window fixed. They’re real sticklers about things like that. Don’t worry, though; I’ll get you taken care of like usual.” Charles looked at the paper and flipped through a catalogue, stopping at a window that would work for the spare room.

“Thanks for this.”

“You’re always welcome. We’ll have this to you tomorrow afternoon. How does three o’clock sound?” Charles scribbled on a receipt, then tucked the pen in his shirt pocket.

I wouldn’t be awake at three o’clock. It didn’t matter how old I was, I wasn’t immune to sunlight. “I have an appointment already scheduled at that time. I won’t be home until later. How about tomorrow evening at six or seven? That’ll give me a project for the weekend.” I slid a few bills across the counter to Charles, hoping he wouldn’t question the timing, then tucked away my copy of the receipt.

The idea I might be something other than human didn’t even seem to occur to Charles. He just nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. Just keep watch on your place so no one breaks in between now and then.” He frowned, concern tightening his eyes. “You’re a good man. I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to you.”

“Thanks.” The only people who were likely to break into my second-story window were those who could fly. Or someone brave enough to use a ladder, but that would cause a commotion. His words still sunk in, though.

I didn’t need yet another reason to feel paranoid, but it was too late. Would someone dare break into my home while I wasn’t around? Or worse...when I was asleep and helpless?

A foreboding feeling urged me back home. I walked quickly at first, but my nagging intuition screamed at me,
‘run.’
As I stepped into the alley, I saw a hole where the cardboard and plastic were supposed to be.

My fears were proving to be justified.

With a curse, I jogged inside using supernatural speed and stealth. Though the blackness would hamper any human, I could see every detail of my home like it was daytime. Yet something lurked, just out of sight. I could sense an unspoken threat; someone wanted me dead.

“Come out. Stop wasting my time,” I yelled into the darkness. What use would cowardice be?

A shadow moved in the kitchen, and another darted across the balcony overlooking the living room.

My fangs lengthened into sharp points with a quiet snap. I stepped out of the den, but kept my back to the wall. These beings were professionals. I wouldn’t allow them an opportunity to surprise me from behind.

Someone whirled toward me from the kitchen. I slammed my fist into the man’s chest, causing a loud crunch as he stumbled back and hit the floor.

The black-clad figure from the loft flung itself over the railing and soared down to the ground, landing with an arrogant flair.

This didn’t make sense. The man in the kitchen wasn’t a vampire, but there was something about this one. The rapid tap of footsteps drew my attention toward the kitchen. Maybe I’d been wrong about him.

Before I could do anything, a solid weight barreled into me, slamming me into the wall. Fingers dug into my arms, and magic thrummed through the air. The magic held a dark, powerful taint almost like that of the necromancers of old. If I didn’t stop him, I’d die a true death.