Beneath a Blood Moon (15 page)

“What did you do?”

“I left their bodies. He… had a cabin where he held us. I showered before going home.”

“You showered? As a wolf?”

Both my wolf and I were puzzled. I cocked my head to the side. “Not as a wolf. Human. Showered and dressed as a human. Crossing the desert would have been easier as a wolf. I don’t know how to drive.”

Rory had left a car parked nearby, a sporty little thing. Unlike the one he had in New York, it hadn’t had so much as a speck of rust on it.

“Who helped you become human?”

“Did someone help? I don’t remember,” I murmured. Becoming human had been a pain-filled blur.

“I see. So you went home. What happened?”

“She’s always hungry. I fed her until I ran out of money. I returned to work so I could keep feeding her,” I whispered.

“You said you were throwing up.”

“Yes.”

“We call it ritual sickness. Your body is changing because you’re no longer quite human.”

Using me, my wolf sighed.

“No longer quite wolf,” I said on her behalf.

“No longer quite wolf,” she agreed.

“I was a vegetarian.” The confession helped, as though saying what I had once been lifted an invisible weight off my shoulders. “Sometimes had fish or eggs. Rarely bacon. Only a couple of times a year. Couldn’t afford to eat much. Can barely pay the rent as it is. Clothes are expensive. Work’s expensive. School’s expensive.”

Wendy grimaced. “You went from a vegetarian to a voracious carnivore overnight.”

“She needs to eat.”

“If she’s still hungry, you can order as much room service as you can stomach, Sara. We’ll pay for it. That’s part of our job. You won’t feel so hungry all of the time in a few weeks. You’ll always eat more than a human now, but you’ll find it’s not so bad once you’ve had a chance to adapt.” Wendy smiled. “Except at buffets. We all eat a lot at buffets. It’s a weakness. You’ll find even the most submissive of wolves becomes competitive when food is involved.”

“Or males,” I muttered.

Wendy answered me with a nod. The moment of silence stretched into a minute, and she sighed. “Especially when prospective mates are involved. You’ll find males are worse when it comes for competing for mates than females. There are a lot fewer females. Your wolf wants a mate, doesn’t she?”

“She only cares about sex and food,” I whispered.

“She likes Sanders.”

“She likes anyone who feeds her.”

Wendy laughed. “Except my husband.”

My wolf, once again puzzled by Wendy, prodded me into saying, “He belongs to you.”

“In his opinion, it is the reverse, I assure you. But yes, he is my mate and I am his. Your wolf is wise to be wary of mated pairs.”

While my wolf didn’t care about Sanders’s past circumstances, I did. “What happened to Sanders’s mate?”

“She was murdered, along with several other women.” Wendy sighed, twisting around to stare in the direction of the sitting room. “They were together for a long time. I think he fears betraying her memory by allowing himself another chance to be happy and mated. My mate is responsible for keeping him out of trouble. There is a group responsible for policing our kind and other supernaturals. They have decreed that due to his rank and situation, he’s not to mate with another Normal like Mary. They want Charles to select a mate for him who is, ah, a better match.”

“A better match?” I demanded.

“One of us. A Fenerec.”

My eyes widened. “Fenerec.”

“What you, as a Normal, would have called a werewolf. You’ll find most of us view that term as offensive. But, yes, that’s what we are. We are Fenerec. As a female, you’re a bitch.”

“A bitch.”

Wendy grinned. “A bitch. Dominant males who lead a pack are Alphas. A dominant female who leads a pack is also an Alpha, although any bitch mated to an Alpha male is called the pack’s Alpha female, no matter how submissive she is. It’s not uncommon for Alpha males to mate with either extremely dominant or submissive bitches. They either want a challenge or they need someone to protect.” Drawing a deep breath, Wendy said, louder, “Alphas are obnoxious like that.”

“I heard that, Wendy,” Desmond called out.

“You were supposed to, dear.” Lowering her voice, she said, “Charles is a very dominant Alpha. When he tells you to do something, you should do it.”

I nodded. My wolf remained baffled by what Wendy was telling us. She understood the concept of pack, of having a family of other wolves, but the rest confused her. “So I should do what these Alphas say?”

“That’s typically wise. Should you decide to mate with Sanders, it is your right to pull his tail, although you’ll find you will need to learn certain subtleties while you do so. He is a good Alpha. There are many bitches who would do almost anything to have a chance to be his mate.” Wendy grinned at me. “He’s good enough looking, he’s very nice, he’s generous, and he only uses force when absolutely necessary.”

“Do… do Fenerec choose mates without knowing them well?”

Wendy lounged next to me, leaning against the wall. “All of the time. Mating isn’t an exact science, not unless you’re aiming for puppies—and if you are, it is. Sometimes, a pair who has never seen each other before will succumb to the rut and wake up the next morning with a permanent mating bond. Other pairs will court each other for years first. You’ve been hunting Sanders all night long, and he has been interested in you since before the full moon.”

“What did you mean by aiming for puppies?”

“Children, Sara. If you want children, mating is pretty ritualistic. Males are infertile unless certain things happen. I believe it’s because unmated Fenerec will rut with anyone who catches their eye. Keeps unexpected puppies from happening. Having puppies is something Fenerec pairs must plan for. Granted, mated pairs can accidentally figure it out. Our wolves have a lot of instincts when it comes to making puppies, but it does take a bit of effort.”

I flushed. “Oh. What’s involved?”

“Do you like children?”

My wolf did. I wasn’t sure what I thought about having children of my own. Every time I watched children play, I doubted I could take care of someone the way a baby deserved. “I have never been with a man I wanted to have children with.”

Wendy smiled. “Most Fenerec adore children. Charles and I have two daughters; they’re twins. We… had to try several times before they were born. Mated couples may never have any children of their own because it’s difficult for us to have puppies, but we adore them all the same. When Fenerec want to become doctors or teachers, they work with the youngest of children, because all of our instincts are to nurture and protect them. A birth in the pack is very special. Large packs with strong Alphas have better chances of having puppies, but that doesn’t change how special a birth is.”

I wanted to know if Sanders wanted children, but I wasn’t brave enough to ask. My wolf wanted to know as well, but I won the battle between us.

With a low groan, Wendy got to her feet. Our eyes met, and she held out her hand. “Come on, Sara. Let me trot you out there before the males worry. You have a lot to learn, but you have the time to learn it now. Just let us take care of you. Sanders is a really good catch, if you can sink your teeth into him.”

“Sink my teeth into him?” I asked at my wolf’s insistence.

Wendy blinked at me. “Your wolf really is a puppy, isn’t she? Oh my. Maybe you have even more you need to learn than I thought.”

Chapter Eight

I hid behind Wendy, which was a feat in and of itself since I was quite a bit taller than her. With Desmond and Sanders both staring at me, I lost all of my courage, as did my wolf. I was embarrassed, and my wolf was too tired and hungry to rise to their challenge.

“Charles, will you be a darling and order something for Sara? She’s hungry,” Wendy said, twisting around to grab my arm and pull me out of hiding. “Come on, dear. Go sit on the couch with Sanders. He makes a nice bodyguard. He’ll also keep you nice and warm.”

Desmond got up and headed for the room’s landline, grabbing the room service menu from the table. “What should I order?”

“Fish,” Wendy replied, pausing a moment. “May as well get any other seafood on the menu. See what’s suitable for a vegetarian.”

“For a vegetarian?” Halting, Desmond whirled around to face me. “You used to be a vegetarian?”

Smothered by Desmond’s stare, I recoiled, and my wolf encouraged me to take shelter with Sanders. I obeyed, sitting on the other end of the couch. My wolf wanted me to slide over to the man she wanted as our mate, but I resisted, aware of what Wendy had told me about his mate’s death.

Sanders watched me, his amber eyes bright.

Claiming one of the armchairs, Wendy sat down. “Charles, you may as well order something for the rest of us while you’re at it.”

“Yes, dear.” Sighing, Desmond grabbed a notepad and started writing down a list, which he then carried into an adjacent room, closing the door behind him.

“He can’t keep you warm if you are sitting all the way over there. One of you will need to move.” Wendy smirked at me. “Don’t be shy.”

“Wendy, you’re terrible. Don’t pressure her,” Sanders muttered.

“I’m simply taking care of the young puppy appropriately, and younglings need to be kept warm and well fed after trying ordeals. You are the most suitable individual to keep her warm.”

Judging from Sanders’s scowl, he wasn’t convinced. “You’re playing matchmaker.”

“A secondary motivation, albeit a pleasant one. She really should stay warm. I don’t feel like sharing Charles at this moment in time; therefor, it is your responsibility.”

Once again, I noticed the odd way Wendy held herself, her tone confident and sure, although her eyes never rose higher than Sanders’s chin.

I met his gaze, puzzled by why she wouldn’t look him in the eyes. The color, so vibrant and golden-yellow, held me captive. For a brief moment, he smiled, and my wolf basked in his approval.

“You’re going to thrall her at the rate you’re going, you naughty Alpha,” Wendy murmured, her tone satisfied.

The smile I so liked faded, and Sanders sighed. “Desmond, please control your mate.”

Desmond emerged from the adjacent room, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so. I’ll go steal his blanket, Wendy.”

Heading down the other hallway, Desmond returned after a couple of minutes carrying a duvet, which he dumped on Wendy’s lap. Leaning over me, he smiled, slipped one hand under my knees and the other behind my back, and, with a grunt, he tossed me towards Sanders, who caught me before I could fall off the couch.

I gasped at how easily Desmond moved me.

My wolf delighted in the feel of Sanders’s arms around me. Taking the blanket from Wendy, Desmond tossed it at me. It landed on my lap. With a sigh, Sanders grabbed it and spread it over me.

It smelled like Sanders, and my wolf made me breathe deeply several times to savor the scent.

“I apologize for them. They like situating everything to their liking,” Sanders murmured.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

 My wolf was confident they didn’t have a taste for strippers, which made it easier to relax—and let me believe I was safe, at least for the moment. I settled on the couch next to Sanders. There was something to Wendy’s appropriate treatment of puppies. So close to Sanders and under the soft, thick duvet, I warmed up and the tension flowed out of me. Leaning against him, I tucked my feet up on the couch, stifling a yawn.

“So?” Desmond asked, returning to his chair.

“She knows absolutely nothing about Fenerec,” Wendy announced. “Go ahead and hide with Sanders if it makes you and your wolf feel better, Sara. I know this is hard on you. It’s as you thought, Charles. She was definitely attacked; there wasn’t a ritual at all, at least not one she noticed. She was their prey. One of them appears to have been a vengeful ex-boyfriend who decided if he couldn’t have her, no one could. If they weren’t a part of the rogue pack we’re hunting, I’ll be very surprised. There were two of them, and they’re both dead.”

Wendy drew a deep breath, sighed, and whispered, “They didn’t bother with killing her before they started to eat.”

Pulling me closer to him, Sanders growled long and low.

Desmond muttered, “Likely those two we found.”

“So it seems,” Wendy agreed.

Echoing Sanders’s growl, Desmond leaned forward, rubbing his temples. “In the Inquisition’s eyes, she’ll be classified as a rogue-born unless a pack takes her. I can hide her for a little while, but not long.”

I sniffed, and my wolf identified the bite in the air as anger and disgust. All signs of Sanders’s interest were gone, buried beneath his rage. Uncertain of whether he was angry at me or something else, I tensed.

If I didn’t want to remain a frightened coward, I needed to know what I faced.

“Inquisition? Rogue-born?” I struggled to keep my voice above a whisper. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about.”

Desmond watched me, his brown eyes brightening to yellow. “Fenerec live in family groups called packs. Most major cities and large towns have packs, ranging from five to a hundred plus members. Sanders has a larger pack, consisting of almost a hundred wolves. Due to the violent nature of our kind—and the violent nature of many supernaturals—we’re all policed by an organization called the Inquisition. I am a member, as are Wendy and Sanders. Most Fenerec from official packs are members, although few are required to become operatives. All Alphas are called in to help the Inquisition from time to time. It’s our job to keep Normals ignorant about our kind. It’s also our job to protect Normals from Fenerec and the other supernatural.”