Beneath a Blood Moon (11 page)

Sanders saved me from embarrassing myself by returning with two plates loaded with crab claws, small lobster tails, and shrimp. The one he placed in front of me also had salmon. The sight of the fish weakened my resolve and allowed my wolf to take over long enough to push away my plate of vegetables and salad to make space for the meat gifted by the male she wanted to claim as our mate.

“That plate counts,” Wendy declared, pointing at the one I had abandoned for the seafood.

I stabbed my fork into my salad and had another bite of it. “It counts, but I’m not done with it.”

Desmond and Sanders laughed.

“Modification of wagers?” Wendy asked, pointing a lobster tail at her husband.

“I’ll consider such a thing if you make it worth my while, my dear,” Desmond replied, resting his elbows on the table while leaning forward. A golden gleam lit his brown eyes. “What are you offering me to consider such a modification?”

“Don’t be impolite, dear,” Wendy replied. Setting her lobster tail down, she took up her steak knife and pointed it at her husband. “A fair wager is more satisfying to win.”

Scowling, Desmond settled back in his seat, sighed, and nodded. “Very well. What do you propose, dear?”

“Pairs. May the best pair win.”

“How do you propose we pair off?” Desmond asked.

“Sanders and Sara versus us, dear. I will help you make off with his truck for a week if I can drive it.”

With a laugh and shake of his head, Sanders asked, “What is it with my truck? You both want to get your hands on it.”

“It’s the chrome,” Wendy replied. “I suppose you’ll have to partner with Sara if you want my Mercedes for a week.”

Desmond sighed. “Your Mercedes?”

“Mine.” While Wendy glared at her husband, there was something odd about the way she regarded him, as though unwilling to look him in the eyes for more than a moment. “You bought it for me.”

“Oh, very well. Your Mercedes, dear. What do you think, Sanders? Want to partner with Miss Sara?”

Sanders glanced at me before focusing on Desmond. “This is a trick question, isn’t it? You’re planning something, aren’t you?”

“Always, Sanders. Not up for a challenge?”

My wolf wanted Sanders, and the idea of a game against Desmond and Wendy also appealed to her. “I’ll partner with Sanders.”

“That’s the spirit,” Desmond replied, grinning at me. “I hope you’re hungry, Sanders.”

“Oh, I am,” the man my wolf wanted replied, his voice rumbling in a growl. “Your Mercedes is mine, Desmond. Just you wait and see.”

For the first time since the full moon, my wolf took control and abandoned the pretense of normality in acceptance of Desmond’s challenge. Long after I thought my stomach should have burst, she kept eating. Not only did she want to beat Desmond, but she also wanted Sanders to provide for us, coercing me into dropping hints about the foods she wanted to try. I served as her voice, resigning myself to my role while astonished and dismayed by how much she made me consume.

At the rate she was going, I was going to eat enough for ten in a single meal, far more than I would’ve eaten in an entire week. Desmond, Wendy, and Sanders didn’t seem surprised or startled by how much I was devouring, even though I ate like some starved beast. While my wolf was determined to gorge on red meats, she indulged my enjoyment of salmon, something they regarded with disdain when it proved to dominate my selection.

All three of them worried about bones, and in an act of defiance, I piled the few I found on the edge of my plate for them to see.

By the time the thought of food made even my wolf queasy, I’d lost track of how many plates I had emptied, and I shuddered when Sanders offered to hunt something else down for me.

“No more,” I begged, stealing control back from my wolf so I could shove the empty plate away.

“Finally had enough, have you?” Sanders asked, grinning at me. “Don’t want dessert?”

Shuddering at the thought of eating so much as another bite, I shook my head.

Desmond lifted his wrist, pushing back his sleeve to check the time. “We should head to the show or we’ll be late.”

“I believe I’ll be taking your keys,” Sanders announced, rising to his feet and holding out his hand. “You have been beaten, Mr. and Mrs. Desmond.”

With a heavy sigh, Desmond pulled out his keys, unattached one of two fobs, and tossed it to Sanders. “Just remember you are now responsible for driving us around.”

“At my mercy,” Sanders replied, smirking. “I like it. I’ve been trying to best him for ages. Now I have his car with the added bonus of forcing him to rely on me for an entire week.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Desmond grumbled.

“Thank you, Sara.”

“No problem,” I groaned, crossing my arms on the table and slumping over. “I’m so full.”

“Unfortunately, you will have to suffer through walking to the car, Miss Sara,” Desmond said, standing. Circling the table, he pulled out Wendy’s chair. “It seems we have been defeated, dear.”

“So it seems. At least our new driver is a striking young man with good manners. Hopefully, he will be prompt when we require his services.” Wendy rose, turning to kiss Desmond’s cheek. “I consider this a strategic acquisition of our own slave for the next week.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how losing works, Wendy,” Sanders complained. “You pay the wager to me. I’m not your slave. Go get a rental.”

“Nonsense. I thought you’d want to drive it as much as possible.” Desmond grinned. “Come along, Miss Sara, or we really will be late.”

I sighed, lifted my head, and pushed away from the table. Sanders offered his arm. Eager to touch him, my wolf dredged up enough energy to stand. “Thank you,” I murmured.

“Of course. Where’s the show, Desmond?”

“The Bellagio. It’s probably faster to just walk. We can come back for the car after or catch a taxi.”

I stared down at my shoes, wondering how I was going to survive the hike between the two hotels. Even in heels, it wouldn’t take more than ten minutes, but all I wanted was to find somewhere to curl up and take a nap, and my wolf made it clear she wanted Sanders at our side when we did so.

With the issue of food resolved, my wolf’s desire once again roused, leaving me shaking, hot, and aching in response to her need. Her focus mostly remained on Sanders, although she paused and considered other eligible males who fit my list of criteria.

They, however, had not pleased her. Sanders had, without question or complaint, fulfilled her every request. The trait boded well for her needs in a mate.

I flushed at her desire for puppies, preferably with Sanders, although she’d consider some other dark-haired male, although she didn’t approve of our current lack of fur.

Maybe the full moon had driven me insane when it had changed me into a werewolf.

With my arm linked with Sanders’s, we headed out of Caesar’s Palace and took to the streets. It was quiet for a Friday night, but my wolf insisted I lean on Sanders to help her stake her claim on him and drive away unwanted females.

When Sanders slipped his arm around my waist, my wolf delighted in the feel of his hand on my side. His gentle touch made her want more, and I once again fought to restrain her urge to make a very public demonstration claiming him as her—our—territory.

When we reached the Bellagio, the fountain show was under way, forcing us to weave through the thick crowds to reach the hotel. Sanders took hold of my hand so he wouldn’t lose me in the bustle, and I kept a tight hold on the red and gold purse matching my dress.

“Tickets,” Desmond ordered, holding his hand out to Wendy when we reached the resort’s entry. With a flourish, she handed over a small envelope. Instead of the main doors, he guided us to a private entry, handing over the tickets to the usher. “The tickets had to be purchased in pairs,” he explained as we were led up a flight of stairs. We were escorted to a private balcony suite overlooking a circular stage with a swimming pool set in the middle of it. I sucked in a breath. Instead of single seats, the suites had benches upholstered in blue.

“Ladies first,” Sanders murmured in my ear, gesturing to the bench closest to the railing. I slid around the table centered between the seats. He sat beside me.

Wendy smiled at me from where she sat across from me. “Charles has a weakness for circuses and zoos, and Cirque du Soleil blends the best of both worlds. He’s been sitting on these tickets for months, counting down the days to the show.”

“I did no such thing, you naughty woman,” Desmond scolded, and when a waiter came, he ordered a bottle of champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries. “While I had acquired these tickets some time ago, my calendar reminded me at appropriate intervals.”

When the waiter returned, Sanders took charge of the bottle of champagne, pouring a flute and handing it to me. “Don’t let him fill your ears with nonsense, Sara.
I
bought the tickets because I lost a wager with him. He decided I had to join him.”

“As I said, I acquired the tickets,” Desmond replied, accepting a flute of champagne from Sanders. 

After the show, Desmond took custody of his wife and me, sending Sanders to Caesar’s Palace to retrieve the car while we cabbed to the Venetian. Although I thought separating was ridiculous since the two hotels were across the street from each other, I kept my mouth shut.

My job was to look pretty and provide company.

Despite living in Vegas, I hadn’t ventured to the Venetian before, but by the time we reached the lobby, I was too exhausted to focus on anything other than staying on my feet. If they wanted more out of me than looking pretty, they would be disappointed.

In my tired state, I couldn’t feel my wolf. The euphoria of being alone in my head lasted until we reached the top floor and Desmond led me to a pair of double doors. The realization he had one of the hotel’s penthouse suites hit me hard. When I froze, he took my elbow in his hand and guided me into the room.

It had a foyer with marble floors and gold inlays, which opened into a main living area complete with a baby grand piano. Wendy dumped her purse on the floor, and with a tired groan, collapsed on the couch, ignoring the fact she wore a dress that probably cost more than I did.

“Go sit, Miss Sara,” Desmond said, giving me a gentle push in the direction of the armchair near the couch. More than half asleep, I obeyed, sinking down on the floral upholstery to stare at the polished wood of the coffee table.

Desmond cleared his throat to catch my attention. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Please,” I replied, amused something as mundane as coffee was available in a place so opulent.

“I want some as well,” Wendy said. “Sara, have you been in Vegas long? I couldn’t help but notice you have a bit of an accent?”

I flushed. While I had gone to lengths to mask my New York accent, it slipped out from time to time, especially when I wasn’t paying attention. “Three years.”

Sucking in a breath at my carelessness, I stared at Wendy with wide eyes. While Isabella had known how long I’d been in town, I avoided telling people. If they knew when I had arrived, they might be able to track me to my home.

Isabella had been the only one who had known why I had run, and she yet hadn’t hesitated for more than a moment before turning to Rory and deciding to sleep with him. The betrayal left a sour taste in my mouth.

“Do you like it here?” Wendy asked, smiling up at her husband when he brought a golden tray with three cups. They were the type I expected tea to be served in, made of delicate, gold-rimmed china. He set a saucer and cup in front of me.

“No.” Once again, the truth popped out of my mouth before I could stop it. Shaking, I clapped my hands over my mouth.

“Relax, Miss Sara. Have some coffee.” Wendy smiled at me, taking a sip of hers. “Honesty is refreshing, even if the answers aren’t necessarily what one wishes to hear. Don’t feel like you have to give us pretty answers. The truth’s always better.”

It took several deep breaths to steady myself enough to obey without spilling the coffee all over the place. It was served strong and black, and while I would have preferred some sugar, I was too embarrassed to ask for some. The first sip scalded my tongue, and I focused my attention on blowing on the coffee so I could sip it without it burning all the way down to my stomach. “Okay.”