Call of the Highland Moon (The MacInnes Werewolves #1)

Call of the Highland Moon (The MacInnes Werewolves #1) Page 22

Not that Jonas would ever complain. The darker gods had blessed him the night Malachi MacInnes had found him, strengthened him with the ancient power of his bite. This arukh form, this wolf, was not quite what he desired. But in time, he knew he could make the great Andrakkar see that he could best serve with his abilities restored. He had misbehaved, oh yes, had let the fire he could rend the night with rule him instead of his loyalty to the Master. And had anyone ever been punished as much as he? Had he not sworn he would redeem himself even as his great wings were being torn from his back, as he was cast into the whirling vortex of the Tunnels?

“Serve me,” whispered the faintly glowing crystal at his throat. “Open the door … let me in … redemption …”

Jonas growled in acknowledgment. He would embrace the abilities now given him, abilities once feared by all but the High Drakkyn until they were lost from his world long ago. And he would not fail.

In one night, he had gone from wretched outcast to favored one, elevated in Master’s eyes because he could provide the key to reclaiming this lost place in the exalted name of Drakkyn. He would not waste the favor that Narr, god of blackest night, had surely seen fit to bestow upon him in giving him this one last chance.

He had been promised much that he had told no one, even Malachi, with whom he felt an odd sort of kinship even though he knew it would pain him little when he eventually took his life. Malachi thought he now had the Andrakkar’s ear, that he could steal the Master’s favor.

Jonas’s muzzle peeled back in a grotesque parody of a smile. He was wrong. He would soon see.

Still, for now, he could only be gladdened by the weaknesses of these creatures, Jonas knew. For this woman he now watched opened the way to endless avenues of pain, and for Jonas, pain was God. Gideon MacInnes was doomed anyway, but now, Jonas thought as he allowed himself to feel the wounds not yet fully healed, the burning in his shoulder, the deep ache in his abdomen, he would make sure that death came slowly. Excruciatingly.

Deliciously.

Jonas licked his muzzle as the woman wound herself around his prey, no doubt enthralled by this first taste of the pleasure his kind could give her. And still, she had no idea. Perhaps, before he tore her throat out, he would instruct her personally. But for now, he would give her a gift, the only one he had been born with and the only one he had been allowed to take with him into this new, blood-bathed life.

Fear.

He had found that it could make the taste so much sweeter.

Jonas moved forward slightly, padding up the ever-deepening ocean of snow that rose and undulated in waves across this barren landscape. The cloudy purple jewel that hung from a thick chain around his neck glinted dully in the shifting light. Its weight was reassuring, reminding him that the Andrakkar was watching, listening, always. It was the piece of his world, of Master, that was with him always. The connection. The key. And despite his banishment, he had used it well.

Oh, how he hated it here, the openness of it, the freshness of the air. He much preferred to wallow in the stench of humans and their filth, to take them in the dark, cramped spaces while the endless possibilities of lives left to take buzzed about him, adding danger, adding pleasure. Still, the one thing about here was that it came with so many places to hide what was left of his prey when he was done.

Not that there was ever much. Waste not, want not, after all.

Such a pretty thing, Jonas mused as he came closer. A lovely bauble to toy with for a while. Her glory of pale hair had come unbound, framing her face to turn her into a painted angel. It was time to let her see the demon that lurked in the shadows.

Look at me, he willed her. See me. And he knew the exact moment she had, the widening of her eyes, the stiffening of her lush little body. The rush of her fear flew to him through the darkness, and nearly took his legs from under him. Yes, Jonas decided as he gathered himself in the split second before the MacInnes bastard rushed out after him. Remember me, pretty. I’ll be seeing you again soon.

With the promise of fresh blood singing through his veins, Jonas turned and melted back into the churning night.

And howled his impending triumph.

t t t

Gideon searched as long as he could, but in the end, he knew he’d have to concede this round to the ghost who hunted him.

It was infuriating … and deeply disturbing. He’d thought he understood the minds of his fellow Wolves, the way things worked. Couldn’t, in fact, imagine any other way. And then had come this gray beast that came and went like a wisp of smoke in the night, fighting when he should have been dead, hunting when he should have been writhing in pain.

Disappearing when he should have been easy for one such as Gideon to find. And yet here he was, empty-handed, chilled to the bone, returning in disgrace to the woman who had protected him, and who it now seemed he would have to protect. That he had endangered her tore at him, but as before, there was only one way to remove the threat. Only the urgency had changed.

And none of this was bound to make Carly feel any better when the time came to tell her. At least the storm seemed to be ebbing, finally, but it was small comfort. Tonight had not gone at all how he’d planned. Gideon padded slowly back through the sleeping town, his paws, though tough, nearly frozen from hours of searching. The sky had begun to take on a faint gray cast, an indication that the night was nearly spent. It was time to head back, although the thought of what would be waiting for him had formed a leaden ball of dread in his stomach. He was going to have a lot of explaining to do.

And what had he been thinking, to just fall upon her like that in her kitchen like some ravenous animal? Gideon had imagined a pleasant evening, with enough conversation to make Carly comfortable with his presence. He knew she felt their connection, was drawn to him as he was to her. And he’d wanted her to feel reassured that he had no intention of acting on it.

Then night had fallen, and he’d proven completely unable to control himself. Just the way she’d stood there, he remembered … so innocent, so pure, and so unaware that he could read every naked emotion that crossed her lovely face. He couldn’t recall it ever happening before, but one look at her obvious desire for him, combined with the endlessly hungering pull of the moon, had been his undoing.

But then, Gideon thought as he reached Carly’s street and turned to run silently past darkened houses, he couldn’t recall any other woman who had filled his head so insistently, so completely. Still, he wasn’t a fool. He’d paid attention to the elder males of the Pack, and he knew what it meant. When a werewolf found its mate, the bond was immediate and intense. And, for better or for worse, singular. That there were so few humans who could survive the bite often turned that mating instinct into a cruel joke, so his people tended to be careful in their associations, moving in small circles, surrounding themselves with one another, and with humans of strength, to lessen the possibility of that drive kicking in in an impossible situation.

Just like the one Gideon found himself in now.

It appeared that the next Pack Alpha would be another lone male. And though he would never forget her, it was best that when he walked out of Carly’s life, he did so for good. The only question now was when that would be possible, because if the yellow eyes in the darkness had seen all there was to see through the window, her position in all of this had just become infinitely more complicated.

And, he thought with a burning shame for bearing the responsibility for it, dangerous.

Carly’s cottage was dark, Gideon saw, a little surprised that not one light was burning even though he was fully expecting her wrath the moment he walked in the door. After a quick look around to make sure he was alone, Gideon moved to the back door, and the pile of clothes he’d thrown off as he’d rushed through it earlier. He Changed, his desire to get inside to try to win back Carly’s trust making the shift almost instantaneous. Gideon stooped to gather the clothes, his weariness allowing the cold to affect him quickly. They were snow-covered and frozen, and he decided to just go on in and rummage for some other ill-fitting things rather than have them against his skin.

Anticipating the small thrill a blast of warmth was sure to give him, Gideon reached for the handle, turned it … and found it refused to give. He frowned, needing a moment to let it sink it. She’d locked him out? Gideon jiggled it again.

It was definitely locked.

But then, it did make sense. She’d been frightened. She wouldn’t have left the doors wide open. He was sure she’d let him in if he knocked. If there was one thing he’d learned about Carly Silver, it was that she didn’t have the heart to leave any creature to freeze to death out in the cold, and tonight it was well below zero.

Gideon rapped quietly on the door. “Carly,” he whispered, just loudly enough to be heard inside. “It’s Gideon. Let me in, we need to talk.” He cocked his head, waited, but from inside came nothing but silence. Shivering a little, he rapped again, a bit louder this time.

“Carly!” It was as loud as he could manage without starting to wake up the neighbors, and still, no response. Gideon’s frown deepened as he looked down at the frozen clothes he held in his hands. It was beginning to look as though he would have to put them on, after all. Hell. Gideon gritted his teeth and managed to get into the stiff, damp clothes, even though putting them on only made the shivering worse.

Maybe she was sleeping? After the night she’d had, the thought of Carly sleeping that deeply sounded more than a little naive, but still, it was worth a shot. He pushed through thigh-deep drifts of snow until he got to her bedroom window, dark behind the drawn blinds. He tried as hard as he could to peer through any cracks, but there were none. He knocked lightly on the window.

“Carly? Carly, it’s Gideon. I’m sorry, all right? I know I should have explained better, but I didn’t think I’d have to. I’ll make this right. Look, please let me in so we can talk.” He stopped, listening. Still, the only sound he could hear was his breathing. Gideon stood there, stock still, as he realized that locking him out was exactly what Carly had done. No thought for his safety, no thought for frostbite … Christ, he knew he’d fouled up, but had it really been that bad? Gideon raked a hand through his hair, thinking.