Silver Moon (18 page)

Sharp-pointed hedges form a layered wall. I can’t see the driveway, but I remember Jana barely making it through. Tugging at a few stray limbs, I step through without a scratch. The dirt path extends further than I can see, and, above me, night wraps its arms around half the world.

The fact that I’m alone, near his house, and he might not be there, has crossed my mind. Dark closes in, suffocating. Leaves blow around me. The tree trunks are twisted, reminding me of faces. I think of my dream, and them telling me to turn around. I wonder if I should listen.

As I approach the house, I notice there aren’t any lights on. Someone
has
to be home. Maybe they enjoy sitting in the dark…

Two knocks on the door, because I don’t see a doorbell. Actually, it’s hard to see anything—nothing lights the front porch, except the moon. I’m about to turn and leave when the front door swings open, hitting a wall with a vibrating
thud.

“Can I help you?” the lady practically purrs. She’s dressed in a floral silk outfit that has a low cut V-neck, and ends at her toes. It doesn’t look like pajamas. Her eyes are the color of the midnight sky, like her hair, which is pinned up in a loose twist.

I gain courage, seemingly showing it by sticking my nose a little too far in the air. “I’m here to see Ben.”

“Well, that’s too bad. Ben’s not here,” she informs me.

“Oh, okay, thanks,” I say, turning around.

I make it to the second porch step, when she says, “But you can stay until he gets back.”

“No, that’s okay. I need to get home.” I nervously laugh.

She props one arm on the doorframe and glances toward the driveway. “No car?”

“Not yet,” I say, backing up.

“Pity.” Her eyes glow yellow, watching me closely.

This is a really bad idea. Why do I make stupid, last minute decisions?

I can’t take my eyes off hers. Every time I see the golden glow, it puzzles me. Her eyes are seductive and wicked; eyes made to deceive prey into thinking we’re beautiful, harmless creatures. It’s all a lie.

And right now, I’m the prey.

“I’ll give you a two minute head start,” she flatly states.

I hesitate. She’s
got
to be joking.

But she’s not.

So I bolt through the trees, away from the main road. It’d be easier to spot me on a main road. There’s no point in taking any chances. Flames creep into my lungs. I focus my breath through my mouth and out my nose, but it’s still coming in short, ragged spurts.

Pick up your feet.

I might not make it out of these woods alive. I know she’ll catch up, and I’ll be ripped apart. Each limb snapped one by one.

Where are your Watchers now, Beth?
Can they see me? Can
you
hear me?

Now the trees look at me with concerned expressions. I feel guilty. I should’ve listened and stayed away.

I hear a growl in the distance, then a slow, terrifying howl.

The hunt begins.

Leaves crunch behind me. The wind swirls, and I catch a faint whiff of wet dog. My feet pick up speed. I run like I’ve never run before in my life. I can already feel the leg cramps setting in. Silently, I pray to myself that I don’t trip on a tree stump or something poking out of the ground.

Get on the main road, Candra!
my head screams. For once in my life, I listen. As soon as I dart through the brush, headlights blind me, and I’m frozen in place.

Chapter Twenty

A
car speeds toward me with no signs of slowing down.

I can’t scream. I can’t even think. The vehicle swerves, fishtails and skids to a halt, missing me by mere inches. The engine sputters and quits.

“Get in!” yells Ben.

I don’t have to turn around to know she’s right behind me. As soon as I slam the passenger door shut, a loud
thump
hits my window, producing a glass web.

“Ben!” I scream.

“I’m trying!” He turns the key over and over again in the ignition, but the car won’t start. I swing my legs around and place my feet against the glass, praying it won’t shatter.

“Ben, hurry, please,” I beg, on the brink of tears.

“She won’t let me!”

The remnants of the window break away. All I see are exposed sharp, white fangs and fur as dark as the sky above us. She clamps down on my ankle, her teeth grinding against bone. Pain sears up my leg. Ben wraps his arms around mine and pulls, but she’s too strong. I’m in a tug-of-war, and she’s winning. Each time he pulls me toward him, I feel a little more flesh ripping off my body.

“Stop! Please!” I cry. It’s my blood she tastes—it’s what she wanted all along.
 

Ben growls and releases me. She pulls me out the window. My body smacks the pavement. She looms above me, assessing her next meal. Her snout sniffs the sticky mess around my ankles, and she licks her chops.

“Mom, no!” Ben shouts, but, somehow, he seems far away.

I gaze into her yellow eyes, wondering what’s going through her head. Does it feel good to have the one you want to kill within reach?

I glance up and see Ben standing on top of his BMW. Only he isn’t Ben anymore. He’s a werewolf, with thick, black hair and eyes that put the night sky to shame. His size is like nothing I’ve ever seen before—I’m surprised he hasn’t dented the roof of his car.

He groans, speaking in a language I don’t understand yet. His mom snarls at him, then returns her gaze to me.

I roll to my side, thinking I might barf at any second. The sight of blood, and the fact that my leg almost looks like paper after it’s been run through a shredder, have me feeling woozy. I try to scream, but the pain prevents me from making rational thoughts. I lay down, comforted by the thousands of stars in the heavens. I’m fading…fast.

I’m coherent enough to know what’s going on. Ben watches me from the roof of his car, and then leaps onto her. I rise up on my elbows, trying to pull myself out of the way, but the pain is so intense I can’t move, so I lay there and watch them. They move in a circular path, snapping and nipping at one another’s faces. Their jowls stay raised—long, white incisors reaching further than the gum line.
 

Then Ben goes crazy—scratching, clawing, and ripping hair out at the root, until he catches her by throat, pinning her to the ground. Something inaudible is said between them, something much like a snort and whine, and she whimpers. He lets her go and I try to pull myself out of harm’s way.

But Ben stands between me and her. He turns and looks at me, his eyes concerned and exhausted.

“Get in the car, Candra,” he says softly.

I open the door, able to pull myself into the passenger seat. His mom skulks off toward their house. Ben comes around the side of his car, and shifts back into his human form. I redirect my eyes, since he’s naked.

When he takes a seat behind the wheel, I only smell sweat and earth. I hear him rummaging through stuff in the backseat.

“Here,” he says, handing me a worn t-shirt, “put this around your leg. It’ll stop the bleeding.”

I won’t look at him, even though my eyes are being pulled in his direction. The pain is worse now. It’s taking all of my self-control not to let out one last scream before passing out. The dizzier I become, the more my stomach tells me to open the door and puke.

He chuckles. “You can look, Candra. I’m not naked anymore.”

At first, I think he might be joking, but when I glance at him, he’s wearing sweat pants. Still, without a shirt.

I gawk at the curves on his bare chest, the way they seem so perfect. Bile rises in my throat, not from seeing him like that, but from the queasiness in the pit of my belly.

“You want to take a picture?” he asks, interrupting my thoughts.

I shake my head, bemused. “What?”

“You keep staring at me, like you’ve never seen a guy shirtless before. If it helps,” he says, grabbing another t-shirt, “I’ll put this on.” He pulls a worn white tee over his head.

Heat radiates in my cheeks. “I-I’m sorry. I d-didn’t realize…” I trail off, looking away.

The engine roars to life.

I whip my head around and ask, “It works?”

“I tweaked it a little,” he says.

“When?”

“A second ago.”

“But you didn’t—”

“Look, just because I didn’t get under the hood, doesn’t mean I don’t have skills.” He glares at me, like I’ve done something to offend him.

I nod. “Okay.”

His face softens and relaxes. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I need to get home—” I glance at my watch, and notice the second-hand isn’t moving. “That’s weird,” I mumble.

“Everything okay?” Ben asks, eyeing me.

I say, “Fine. Yeah, I just need to get home. My leg is
killing
me.”

He floors the gas pedal, and we zoom past his house, past the pile of burning leaves. It’s well into the night. Randy or Beth might’ve read my note. I’m toast.

“Are you warm?” Ben asks, catching me off guard.

I mumble, “Um, yeah.”

More agonizing minutes pass. My leg feels like it might explode at any moment. I’ve lost a lot of blood and need to get to a hospital. For now, the t-shirt will suffice.

“Were you scared?” He pulls off the road and onto a dirt spot, surrounded by trees. Before I can respond, he says, “Don’t answer that. It’s a stupid question.”

“Scared I might die? Yes,” I reply, rubbing my arms, pulling them closer to my chest. “Scared of you changing? No.” I look at him then. He’s watching me intently. Neither of us says a word.

We don’t
have
to.

“You’re a stupid, stupid girl. You know that, right?” he says, choking on the words.

I whisper, “I know.”

He gently drags me across the short distance and into his lap, holding me, rocking me. I don’t realize I’m crying until he places a finger under my chin and lifts my face. He brushes his thumb across my cheek and raises it to show me a tear.

“You saved me again,” I tell him. “First, from your brothers. Then emotionally after the fight with Cameron.”

He releases a short burst of laughter. “Sometimes I think I’m destined to watch out for you.”

I rest my head on his chest, listening to the
thump, thump
of his heart. We stay in that position for a long time, unspoken thoughts forgotten.

Chapter Twenty-One

W
hen we reach my house, there are no lights on and no cars parked out front.
 

“They’re not here,” I say.

As soon as we near the door, the sky opens up. Raindrops bounce off the windshield.

I groan.

“What—you don’t like rain?” Ben asks. His lips curve at one corner.

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I’m kind of disabled right now and don’t feel like taking another shower today,” I reply.

Ben snorts. “Right. Like I’d let you drag yourself to the front door.”

I don’t need to play the damsel in distress. As a matter of fact, I despise girls who do. But this is one of those rare occasions I can’t refuse. He jumps out of the car and comes around the side, opening my door. One of his arms slides under my legs, and the other around my back. He carries me to the front door.

“Candra,” he says, nodding toward the entrance. “Key.”

“Oh, right!” I rummage through my purse and pull them out, jangling. Ben lowers me, so I can slide the house key in the lock. He helps push the door open.

He stops and stares at me. “Where’s your bedroom?”

My cheeks flush, and I momentarily lose my train of thought.

“Not for
that
,” he says, watching my reaction.