Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1) (36 page)

Anger and contempt eclipsed a shadow over Sebastian’s face. “I am by no means domesticated or presume to be. We are predators and that will never change. We have evolved over the years, making our existence easier; however, restrictions still exist. We still have to answer to that which once restricted us like the vampires to the night and you to whatever demonic force that holds your interest. We still have something that we answer to. Centuries ago, we formed packs when our kind chose to not kill for entertainment and to stop being the things that nightmares were made of. Our restrictions were modified because of the penance we paid. Perhaps the vampires should learn from our example. I don’t know why these restrictions exists, are modified, or even removed; nevertheless, they are our restrictions—our rules. Demetrius doesn’t get to spurn them because they are hard and he lacks self-control to deal with them,” he responded with a curtness that matched her own.

“Please trust that Demetrius will practice discretion and self-control with the new freedoms. He just wants his people to enjoy the same privileges that are given to others.”

“Really? You expect us to believe that Demetrius and his seethe know anything of control? That’s your compelling argument? Far too often, Demetrius has been known to kill his donors. After being a vampire for over a hundred and sixty years, he still manages to lose control when feeding. His control is quite limited, and it is wise that you remember this and be careful as you trade with him—or maybe not. Maybe we would be better off if he did lose control.”

Slight irritation peeked through her charismatic demeanor. “I don’t really care what you believe. Your pack members will die if you continue with this. I know you like to think that you are more powerful than the vampires. In the past, they were content, allowing you to hold this belief because you were too insignificant to challenge. But now he grows tired of the pack’s intrusions. You have been warned. I advise you to take this seriously and not be as foolish as your Beta,” she stated brazenly.

“What do you get out this, Chris?” Ethan asked, tilting his head slightly as he scrutinized her reaction. He was frowning as he stepped closer to her, “You really seem to be determined to make this happen. What are you getting out of it?”

“It’s a job. I take my jobs quite seriously.”

“You’ve always been good at your job, a quality I greatly admire about you. But you are not speaking as a hunter doing an exceptional job.” His face reflected new knowledge. A small knowing smile formed on his lips. “He’s agreed to turn you, hasn’t he? He turns you right before the ritual and you get to have what you’ve always wanted with no penalties. It’s a win-win situation for you. I guess then you can stop being his blood whore.” He attempted to sound cool and aloof and not angry, but he couldn’t. She pushed his buttons in ways he was unable to hide. She reeked of Demetrius; I could smell it all the way upstairs, so I knew he could. It bothered him, and he was having a difficult time masking it. I wasn’t sure what bothered him the more: her implied betrayal against the pack, or the fact that she was in bed figuratively and possibly literally with Demetrius?

Ethan glared at Chris, his fists clenched tightly at his side.

Too caught up in the drama that was taking place downstairs, I was surprised by the soft footsteps as they approached me. An unfamiliar were-animal stalked toward me with a determined angry gait. Backing away, I started to scream. He lunged at me. Grabbing me, his hand covered my mouth while he pulled me toward the room. Frantically, I reached for the knife that I kept bound to my ankle. I tried to break his hold just enough to allow me to move. Finally it did. A sharp sound radiated through the room as his hold gave. Another hand replaced his around my mouth pressing firmly against my face.

“Shh. It’s me,” Steven whispered in my ear.

I nodded. When he released me, I turned to look at the were-animal whose head was twisted in an odd angle. He was dead. Steven’s eyes looked angry and feral as he picked up the body and carried it into another room.

“Stay up here,” he urged as he started down the stairs. I was shaking too uncontrollably to answer. He stopped midstride and walked back to me. Lowering me to the ground, he placed his arms around my shoulder and sat with me until the shaking stopped. “It’s really okay. You have to calm down. You were safe the whole time. We knew they were here,” he whispered.

My head bobbed up and down repeatedly but I hadn’t heard him because my mind was too preoccupied. They got to me in the house. I couldn’t dismiss the fear. I grabbed his hand and held it so tightly in mine, I was sure I would hear bones break. He stayed by my side until I found something that resembled calm before pulling away. “Just stay here. I promise no one can get to you while we are here.”

Inhaling deeply, I found my words hidden somewhere under my fear. “Okay,” I stated. Pulling the knife from the sheath at my ankle, I gripped it tightly. “But if someone does … ”

The corners of his mouth curled into a faint smile. “If anyone does, go for the throat; you can’t lose that way,” he stated before he headed for the steps. I inched toward the steps to watch him as he descended.

“It’s done,” Steven stated in a rough voice as he came to the bottom of the stairs. Gavin and Josh entered the room from other directions of the house. Gavin’s shirt was stained with blood, his face hard and his eyes smoldering as he attempted to calm the raging animal within. They nodded at Ethan.

Ethan directed his attention to Chris. “You had five people with you, hiding outside: a mage, two lone were-animals and two members of the gardens. The were-animals are dead; pack law would not allow us to spare their lives. The members of the garden are dead as well. You can give Demetrius and his mistress my condolences. The mage’s life was spared, but he will not be returning with you.” He informed her casually.

Chris looked unaffected. She shrugged indifferently, “Casualties of war. Something you too will soon experience,” she stated confidently. Her bravado and composure under hostile situations were attributes I reluctantly admired. But she was heartless, and even if she weren’t an advocate for my murder, I doubt I would like her.

It was a brutish standoff as they stared at each other, neither showing desire for resolution. Ethan took several steps closer to Chris and she smiled invitingly. They gazed at each other with such intensity it ignited the room. One hand gently stroked the back of her neck, while the other pushed away strands of hair from her face.

Leaning forward he gently kissed her on the cheek. Then their lips connected in a passion-filled kiss, a kiss that lasted only a few seconds; but the intensity behind it sent it into another time zone. He rested his cheek against hers and inhaled as they stood in front of an audience behaving as though the room consisted of only them. I watched their exchange, strangely captivated, drawn in by the eroticism and intrigue of their chemistry. I was ashamed of my voyeurism, yet I couldn’t seem to turn away. One could not describe or even comprehend what bound them, but whatever it was, it was intense—strangely alluring. For that moment, you understood why they were once a couple when good sense should have forced them to separate. Whether or not they loved each other was unknown, but the passion between them was undeniable.

His lips brushed against her ear as he spoke, “You are usually quite wise in your decision making, but this time you’ve chosen the wrong side. Leave tonight. You can no longer be part of this. You are welcome to return when this is over. I’ve warned you far more times than you deserved because of the love we once had for one another. Now you can only repay my consideration with your life. Tomorrow I go for a hunt and you are the prey. If you are found, then your life is mine to take,” he declared in such a soft, subtle tone that one would have thought he was reciting poetry to her rather than threatening to kill her.

She stumbled away from him, losing much of her grace in her movement. I wasn’t sure if it was the threat or the sincerity in his eyes that did it, but she was obviously shaken. Taking in slow, steady breaths, she straightened in an attempt to gain some composure. Ethan’s demeanor and stance held no threat. Maybe that was what scared her the most. His composure meant that he wasn’t being driven by emotion but by pure intent. There wasn’t any doubt to those observing that if he found Chris, as distasteful as it may be, he was going to kill her. She was brave; I doubt anyone would question that. It wasn’t her intelligence that was in question at this moment. Would her desire for superhuman abilities trump good old-fashioned common sense?

She looked at him, with a look that was tender and alluring, in an effort to appeal to something they once held. Unmoved, he gazed at her with dark, cold, penetrating eyes. “Casualties of war,” he stated coldly.

She backed out the door or rather staggered, and I could hear the panicked skips in her heartbeat. No matter what she did to suppress it, undoubtedly there was fear. Quell followed behind her, never displaying any changes in his mannerism, despite the show.

The next day, true to his word, Ethan left the house and was gone for hours. When he returned he smelled of the various scents of the outdoors and many other things—but not Chris. I didn’t smell blood or death on him, so I assumed Chris had left, and I was sure that Demetrius wasn’t very happy about that.

CHAPTER 11

When I stirred, Steven directed his attention from the window just long enough to pick up the beautifully wrapped box laying against the wall to hand to me. He immediately went back to the window, focusing on whatever held his attention before.

The card simply displayed my name in lovely script letters. My fingers glided over Owen’s signature in the bottom corner of the portrait that I pulled out of the box. I stared at the woman in it that was supposed to be me. The eyes were a deep moss, somnolent, lost in a place between ineptness and naivety. All color and vibrancy were absent from the woman in the picture. The lifeless depiction that reflected back at me looked tenuous, ineffectual and fragile. Is this what Owen saw when he looked at me? Was this what others saw? I frowned at the picture.

“Do you like it,” Steven asked.

“It’s nice,” I lied before putting it back into the box and sliding it under the bed.

I hated it.

But I would never tell anyone. I still couldn’t figure out why Ethan hated Owen; he was kind. Maybe that was why. Periodically, he called to check on me to see how the Midwest Pack was treating me and to reassure me that I was safe with them. But now I realized he wanted me to stay put because he didn’t think my safety should be left to my own devices.

“You sleep better these days,” Steven acknowledged as he stood at the window, mesmerized by whatever was out there. Showered and dressed in loose-fitting jeans and a white t-shirt that did little to complement his fair skin, he looked like a child, standing by the window, fascinated by the first snowfall of winter, longing to go play in it.

“I guess Maya finds it comforting to have a ferocious coyote near,” I stated with a half-smile getting out of the bed. He was so distracted by the view outside that he barely turned to respond with his typical grin. Now that he consistently slept in my room, his presence was comforting. At night, we stayed up talking until neither one of us could keep our eyes open. Sometime during the night, he managed to change into coyote form.

Standing next to him, I followed his gaze toward the woodland, admiring the view. It was easy to get lost in the acres of greenery, trees and foliage. The trees gently swayed with the morning breeze, a gentle dance that soothed as you watched.

After I showered and dressed, I returned to find Steven standing where I left him; staring out the window, mesmerized. “There’s a full moon tonight,” he stated. He closed his eyes, listening responsively to its whisper. “Can you hear its call?”

Did I hear its call?
Of course I did. It usually started days before until it forced me to answer. Steven yearned for it in a way that I couldn’t relate to.

“I’m sorry you can’t appreciate it the way we do,” he stated softly as his attention remained out the window. Admittedly, mine was too as I imagined a life of being moon-called rather than tortured. Sliding to the floor next to him, I leaned my back against the wall and watched him. He was so drawn to it that it was intriguing to see his appreciation for something I held such contempt. Soft captivated eyes focused on and revered the very thing that forced us almost monthly to give into our animal form.