Hidden Moon (Hot Moon Rising #4) (13 page)

She darted into the kitchen to deliver more orders the waitress had taken. Seeing

Alan at the grill reminded her he planned to stay. He might even take over the diner. He

thrust his cell phone into his pants pocket. When she handed him the order tickets, the

sight of his worried face made her stomach sink. He hadn’t changed his mind about

staying, had he?

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Did you get a threatening call?”

“No, there’s a crisis at my job. One of my programs in production is failing and the

client is upset. My boss said if I didn’t go back in the next day or two, I wouldn’t have a

job left. Getting a lousy reference from them wouldn’t help me find another, either.”

“I thought you were staying,” she said in a small voice.

“I am.”

“But knowing you could go back if you really wanted to gave you a security blanket?”

she suggested.

He nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s not easy to switch lives so fast.”

“I’ll make it as smooth as possible.” She pressed a kiss against his temple, the end of

his bandana tickling her nose.

When Curtis flung open the kitchen door, Shelley instinctively took a step away from

Alan. Even though he used to help out, he really had no reason to be in the kitchen now.

“What is it, Curtis?” she asked. “Were your grits too runny?”

“You two have performed the mating bond, haven’t you?” he asked.

Shelley’s cheeks flushed. “That’s no business of—”

“We have,” Alan said calmly. “Please return to the dining room. We’re really busy

here.”

Instead, Curtis stalked closer. “You don’t belong here, Scabs. Shelley’s my woman,

and I fucked her a hundred times before you ever got your cock into her.”

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Alan’s spatula clattered across the grill. The beast was definitely awake. “Don’t

disrespect my woman that way. Apologize.”

Instead, Curtis sneered and stepped closer. Desperation and pure hatred glowed in

his blue eyes. Cold sweat broke out across Shelley’s body. She backed against the wall,

clutching an arm across her belly.

“It’s all right,” she said in the most soothing voice she could muster. “Curtis, I know

you’re upset, but resentment won’t help. Please return to your seat.”

“Was she good, Alan?” Curtis asked. “Did she moan when she looked at your messed-

up face? Climax when you sank those snaggly fangs into her neck? Or did she throw up

on you?”

Shelley bit her knuckle, feeling helpless as she watched Alan’s shoulders rise and fall

with hard, ragged breaths. Several fangs popped out over his lips, slicing them, making

them bleed.

“That’s it,” he bit out. After rummaging in the utensil drawer, he pulled out a long

carving knife and knocked the whole metal cabinet over. It hit the tile floor with a

deafening crash.

“Alan, don’t!” she called out. “He’s not worth it.”

But he’d already thrown the knife at Curtis. It bounced off the metal door and

ricocheted in tight, deadly spirals. Shelley watched, too frozen to move, as the long blade

reflected the overhead lights.

And screamed as it stopped at last, slicing into her throat.

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After Alan threw the knife, time froze. The hiss of oil on the grill, conversation from

the dining room, and traffic from the nearby road vanished. Curtis and the order tickets

dangling from the carousel vanished, too. He saw nothing but his mate—covered in

blood. Waves of shock slammed into him. His muscles coiled in agony and vibrated with

gut-deep tremors.

“Sh-Shelley.” The words hurled into his throat, along with bile, but they made no

sound.

“Holy shit!” Curtis floated in slow motion toward her. Bent down. “Oh, Shelley. Wake

up, honey.” Turned his head. Glared. “You goddamn freak! She’s dead!”

When Alan’s legs finally worked, he hobbled on them toward the wreckage. She

couldn’t be dead! Must be some mistake. Must be Dad. He was supposed to die soon,

wasn’t he? Not his beautiful mate. Strong. Healthy. In the prime of her life.

He fell when he reached her side. Dragged his nails across his scalp, hard enough to

tear it. Bent down opposite Curtis. Touched her neck. Felt her blood slide through his

fingers. Reminded him of his stinging lips. He touched them, too. Her blood mixed with

his. They were one.

“Shelley.” The word rasped out of him. “Oh my God. What have I done?”

She didn’t answer. The blood on his fingers stained the white tank top he wore so it

looked like hers. He had to lick her neck. Heal it over like he had the mating bond. He

could heal her, couldn’t he? He bent his head. Extended his tongue. Before he could

reach her, someone pulled him away. He sniffed. Curtis. Angry Curtis.

Maybe the other man did this to her. Always jealous. Alan’s head buzzed, and his

stomach wavered from the sickening smell of blood. Too weak to fight him. Dragging

him away.

The world sped up as the rest of the pack pushed in. Other men pulled him away, too.

So far away he could barely see her anymore. He extended his hands until his arm

sockets ached. Waved at the air like a restrained toddler. His heart hammered faster

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than a car with a stuck accelerator, but the beast in him stirred and fell. Even it was too

broken to fight now.

“Fucking freak!” Curtis paced, his hands clenched in fists. “Look what he did to her!”

Women screamed. Men growled. The entire kitchen, a seething mass of motion like

maggots in a carcass. Several gathered around Shelley. So pale. God, her lips so blue.

Broken. Trying to fix her.

A wild-eyed Derek looked at her and then Alan. “Why would he do such a thing?

They’re mates.”

“He’s an unpredictable freak. That’s why,” Curtis snarled.

“Call the paramedics, please!” Barbara cried. “We can’t fix her.”

“No. We can’t let outsiders know what we are,” Derek exclaimed while Barbara

pressed a wad of paper towels to Shelley’s bleeding neck. “Where’s our pack healer?”

“On vacation,” Rand said.

“Effing great,” Derek said. “Does anyone have needle and thread handy?”

“I have an emergency mending kit in my purse.” Barbara’s face paled. “D-do you want

me to sew her up?”

“Yes,” Derek said. “Brett, close the diner. I don’t want any tourists to see this.”

Not her,
Alan wanted to growl. The conceited wolf wasn’t Shelley’s friend anymore,

and he’d never liked the smell of her.

Liana took the paper towels from Barbara. “The bleeding has slowed.”

“Good,” Derek said. Then he gave orders to perform the impromptu surgery.

“Needs me,” Alan cried. “Needs her mate.”

“Over my dead body,” Curtis said. “Lock him up before he kills someone else.”

After grabbing a bottle of whiskey from the storeroom, Liana applied some to

Shelley’s neck. Barbara, looking as pale as Shelley, threaded her needle.

Alan stopped fighting and sagged in his restrainer’s arms. “Let me hold her hand,” he

sobbed. “Please.”

“Let him,” Barbara said. “It can’t hurt. Besides, I won’t be able to concentrate with

him bawling like that.”

“All right,” Derek agreed. “But keep him restrained.”

As soon as the men dragged him toward her, he grasped her hand. So fragile. So cold.

As if she’d already passed on.

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Please don’t die. Please don’t die.

Clammy nausea pressed around him as he watched the needle weave in and out of

Shelley’s flesh. The same spot where he’d given her the mating bite last night. Her

moans of ecstasy in the truck haunted him. So beautiful in her dress at their candlelight

dinner. The softness in her hazel eyes when she told him she loved him. Memories

tumbled through his mind in pieces with no logic or order.

Logic. He may never be able to program software again. To think he sweated losing

his boring job. Nothing mattered but her. He caressed her fingers, testing the length of

each bone between his thumb and forefinger. Her skin felt soft but tough from the hard

work she did.

Why hadn’t he flown home this morning as he’d originally planned? He knew a beast

lived inside him—a dangerous weapon that could detonate at any time. The moon shone

past half-full now, too. In Florida, his beast seemed to stay active through the whole

damn lunar cycle. He’d stayed to protect Shelley from Starwood, but Curtis was right.

He presented a much bigger danger to her than anything they could do.

If only he could erase everything, beginning with his trip down here. He could have

talked to Dad on the phone or through videoconferencing. She’d always been too good

for him. He’d been delusional to think she could ever be his.

He had to get back to northern Virginia before he hurt someone else.

“Almost done,” Barbara said.

Shelley’s fast, shallow breaths slowed and evened out. Alan’s heartbeat finally slowed,

too, clearing his mind. Luckily, she slept. He couldn’t handle seeing the accusation in

her eyes yet.

The kitchen door burst open, and Eileen, Shelley’s mother, rushed in. Her face and

knees crumpled at the sight of her daughter on the floor in a pool of blood. Alan avoided

her gaze, sure she’d treat him like Curtis when she found out what he’d done.

“My baby!” she shrieked, pulling at her hair, which was darker and shorter than her

daughter’s. “Oh God. What happened?”

Derek gripped both her arms, preventing her from falling. “We’re going to get to the

bottom of it once she’s stabilized.”

“All done,” Barbara said, tying off the thread and cutting it. When Liana handed her a

bandage, she placed it over the wound.

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“Let’s get her home, so she can rest,” Eileen said.

Derek sent two men to load her into the woman’s car and see them safely to her

home. Letting go of her hand was the hardest thing Alan had ever done. What if she

died? What if he couldn’t be with her when she took her last breath?

“Good job, Barbara,” Derek said, squeezing her shoulders as she mopped up the

blood. “I nominate you as the pack’s backup healer.”

“Thanks.” When she looked up from wringing a bloody rag into the nearby bucket,

her face was green. “I’m not so sure, though. I think I’m gonna be sick.”

“Me, too,” Liana said. “First the fire and now this.”

Derek inclined his head toward the door. “Dining room. Pack meeting.”

Alan’s stomach sank. The time for pack justice had arrived. He squared his shoulders

as two men led him out like a prisoner and sat him at one of the tables. Whatever his

punishment would be, he’d take it like a man.

“Should we tie him up?” one asked Derek.

“Not necessary,” Alan said.

Derek and Curtis sat with him at the round table. The other pack members sat

nearby.

“All right,” Derek said. “What happened. Curtis, you first.”

“Isn’t it clear?” The wolf shot Alan a scowl. “He got pissed off and threw a knife at

Shelley.”

Curtis’s nasty words leading up to the attack had cut Alan deeper than any knife could

have, but admitting it would make him sound like a baby.

“I don’t believe he’d throw a knife at his mate,” Derek said. “What or who pissed him

off?”

Curtis tossed his head. “We exchanged a few words. Everyone was pretty uptight after

the fire.”

“Did he throw the knife at you?” the Alpha asked.

“How should I know?” His shoulders twitched, as if chasing off a fly. “It flew so fast.”

“Did you duck?” Derek jabbed a finger into the man’s breastbone. “So help me,

Curtis, if you don’t tell the truth, I’m going to punish you, too.”

“Can’t remember. I might have.”

Coward.
Alan would have jumped in front of her to save her life. He would die for

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her. Curtis’s gut reaction to save his own hide didn’t surprise him.

Derek looked to Alan next. “Your turn. What happened?”

“I was exhausted from the fire and trying to get out the breakfast orders. Curtis

walked in and gave me a bunch of crap about mating with Shelley. I lost control and

threw the knife at him. He ducked, and it ricocheted off the door, hitting her.”

“I believe you,” Derek said. “Sounds like an unfortunate accident.”

“Accident, my ass! That crazy nut tried to kill me.” Curtis pounded the table with his

fist. “Throw him out of the pack right now. If you don’t, I will.”

Other voices in the room supported his suggestion, but Derek growled a warning. “I’ll

give the orders around here.”

Alan raised his hand. “No need. I canceled today’s flight, but I’ll be out of here as soon

as I can book another one.”

“Don’t go yet.” The Alpha appraised him with narrowed eyes. “Shelley predicted we’ll

need you against the Starwood threat. When she recovers, I’ll let her decide your fate.”

“Say what?” Curtis argued.

Derek eyed Alan and Curtis. “And you’re both ordered to stay away from each other.”

On numb legs, Alan hobbled out to his car. Nothing to do now but wait at his father’s

house for Shelley’s verdict. He wished Dad hadn’t lived to see his son become the

world’s biggest failure.

Hopefully, she’d dream up the worst punishment imaginable. Probably deserved to

have his balls cut off for threatening her life. He hoped she’d decide soon.

If she lived.

***

The next morning, Shelley lay in her bed, still weak from the loss of blood. A

handmade quilt with motifs of orange fruits, leaves, and blossoms covered her. When