Hunter's Moon (2 page)

Those brown eyes peered up at him, as if they held within them a secret just out of Kieran’s reach. He felt that gaze all the way down to his toes, but the sensation centered in his groin, pooling at the base of his stomach like boiling lava. He was sweating profusely too. Despite being caught in the grip of that primal gaze, Kieran took note of the bulging muscles of the man’s ripped physique, the sun-kissed skin, and the laugh lines around the man’s eyes.

Gorgeous
.

Kieran sighed at the sight, then quickly shook his head and forced the thoughts out of his mind. This man was their prisoner, their ticket to job completion, their paycheck. This man came with a price tag attached, and Kieran could not allow personal attraction to get in the way. Before becoming a hired gun for the rich, the powerful, and the totally evil and corrupt, he’d fought in the fucking IRA, for God’s sake! He was no pansy-ass poofter….

But his conviction that the job came first rang hollow as Kieran saw the flicker of light die in the man’s dark eyes as they lowered to the floor. The resignation coming from Gabriel as his shoulders slumped was too much for Kieran.

I can’t do this
.

He had no idea where the thought came from, but wherever and from however deep it did emerge, that single resolution dominated him from then on.

Kieran’s creativity worked on overload as he scrambled to find a coherent and workable strategy to destroy everything he had worked and bled for over the past three years. But as it stood, the realization that he had zero regrets about consigning himself to this future path was so fierce and compelling that nothing else existed.

How can I do this without getting myself or him killed?

Kieran got up from his previous hunkered position to release the wide, bracelet-type restraints from the metal bar to which they were attached, keeping the prisoner’s hands apart so there was no chance he could break free. Kieran had fought against a lycan twice, both times with about two dozen men at his side. Both times they’d lost more than half the men.

But this man, Gabriel King, was different. He was cool and composed. He didn’t try to fight back or break free. He silently and calmly waited for what was to come. How could Kieran relay to Gabriel without words that he was on Gabriel’s side?

God almighty, I’ve gone off the deep end for sure
.

Once Gabriel was freed from the bar, there was still a chain that kept his wrists locked together. Both Kieran and Slade, the other merc who had accompanied him into the truck, took a few steps back, held their automatic weapons tighter to their chests, and pointed them at Gabriel to avoid any possibility of responding to a threat too slowly or too late. Neither of them was taking any chances with their quarry.

Only, Gabriel did nothing. Slowly, as if showing the men he was no danger, Gabriel got up, using his bare toes to lift him from his position sitting on his haunches. His bound hands lowered to rest in front of him as he stood in nothing but blue jeans and a brown-plaid shirt, but he made no sudden moves, nor did he test the solidity of the restraints.

Kieran couldn’t understand the man’s placid behavior. Could Gabriel still be under the influence of the drugs? He should not have been if they had timed the dose right, and considering the amount they were paid for being professional, they could not have gotten it wrong.

Perhaps his defeatist attitude was because of Kieran.

Half-hard in his pants, Kieran backed up so he could keep his eye on Gabriel but at the same time take a sharp look outside. There were three men holding position behind the truck, one of them being Deck, the commander of their mercenary team. Kieran went over the possibilities in his head, discarding them just as fast. Because of Gabriel, they were all on high alert, and getting the drop on them would be next to impossible.

Yet, the thought of not helping Gabriel, or his dying, made Kieran’s stomach clench and the pain in his chest tightened to a strangling grip.

God, no
.

He had to help Gabriel—or die trying.

S
TARING
at the cool gray polished floor of the truck was the only thing that kept Gabe holding onto his precious self-control. His mate was so close that he was ready to pounce on the guy. That impulse was driving him insane with want—and the timing could not have been worse for these sorts of feelings.

But did the other man feel the same? Gabe had seen how the man’s blue eyes had widened and then grown darker as his pupils dilated with something akin to need. He had smelled arousal in sweet male musk and known he’d had an effect on the mercenary. Yet, the moment had slipped away and vanished, along with Gabe’s hope of silently communicating to his mate that they were meant to be together.

For all Gabe knew, the man didn’t even know what a lycan mating was.

“There’s a good puppy,” the cruel merc taunted from his side, chuckling low. “He’ll make someone a great pet. So docile and obedient. Roll over! Bark! Woof-woof!”

After nearly four hundred years, getting Gabe upset was well-nigh impossible, and he had other priorities at the moment anyway. He had to escape—but how? Though no longer attached to the truck wall, Gabe still had his hands, arms, legs, and ankles bound, so he was going nowhere in a hurry.

“Get him out,” a commanding voice called from outside.

The touch burned Gabriel’s skin as his mate grabbed his bare arm below the rolled-up sleeve. Together with the other mercenary, Gabe’s mate lifted him up enough so he could move a bit even with the ankle restraints. With a combination of hopping and sliding, Gabe was brought to the edge of the truck, and he could feel the open air beneath his toes as he stood there. The two mercenaries took a hold under his arms and lowered him to the ground carefully. As his mate’s hands left him, Gabe thought he felt the man’s fingers brush against his nape in a gentle, reassuring manner.

Unsure whether he should dismiss the gesture that, for all he knew, could have been mere wishful thinking on his part, Gabe made a conscious choice not to respond to it in any way. Even if the act had been intentional, if these men knew that one of their own guys was Gabe’s mate, the man undoubtedly would become a threat requiring elimination. The thought of causing his mate’s death made Gabe’s stomach twist in painful knots.

“He’s magnificent,” a woman spoke nearby, her tone filled with awe. Gabe followed the sound and saw a young, blonde, fair-skinned woman, likely in her midtwenties, with soft girlish features and a practically smitten look on her face, her full lips rounded in an amazed O like an odd kissy-face. Then for a moment, she looked puzzled. “He looks surprisingly… tame. Is he still drugged?”

One of the men, who, judging by his distinct air of authority, was the leader of these mercenaries, shook his head. “Nah. The tranqs have worn off by now. He’s just… housebroken, I guess.” Though his crooked smile was more wry than amused, the other men—twelve of them all in all—laughed, indicating the man was definitely the top dog of the unit.

The woman shrugged as if indifferent. “Well, he will do nicely anyway. Father will be so proud of him—and me.” Gabe watched and listened intently. Was there a hint of a southern accent in the woman’s voice? Her floral scent came from an expensive perfume, indicating class and wealth, and the way she spoke suggested she was the one in charge—but only because she was one of those people who expected everyone to serve her. “Take him to the cage.”

That did not bode well, Gabe thought, but he had little choice but to comply. Needing to stay conscious to get a better sense of his surroundings, he made no effort to run or fight, and the mercenaries seemed to sense this. They may not have taken any chances with him, but they weren’t hurting him either. The woman—and her mysterious father—were obviously footing the bill for this little involuntary get-together, and they didn’t want the merchandise damaged. Of all the things that had happened to Gabe today, that was the second best. The first had been finding his mate, though that was unlikely to help him.

He was quickly blindfolded again—and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out why the cover had been removed at all, except for the check-up by the lady in charge—and led down a path past the long black Bentley the woman had been standing next to. The gravel crunched beneath his bare feet, and the smell of a freshly cut lawn hung heavy in the hot, humid air. The sun was high, suggesting noon or thereabouts. Scents of cypress, dogwood, magnolia, and oak trees, along with exotic flowers, filled his nostrils. The place was definitely well maintained and high-end. Then again, poor people could not have afforded this special treatment Gabe was being given. The walk didn’t last long, and then he was taken into a house, the air dry, cool, and perfumed, again giving a definite impression of wealth and class. A heavy metal door opened with an ominous, deep clank, and he was escorted down a flight of steep metal stairs until they came to a halt on the floor. The sound of a cell door being unlocked and swung open confirmed his fears, but this was the wrong time to act, so as docilely as he could, he let the men push him in, still restrained, and close the cell door before they departed.

“I’ll take first watch,” Gabe heard his mate say, chuckling. “There’s a game on later, and I won’t miss it on account of you losers.” Laughter and receding footsteps followed the friendly statement, and next the bang of a metal door closing—and then there was only silence.

“R
EMOVE
the blindfold.” The woman’s order was swiftly followed by Gabe’s mate’s scent closing in on him, and then the black cotton cloth was yanked off of him. Blinking in the cold, harsh light of the prison cell—from the looks of it underground, perhaps in a bunker—Gabe made a quick assessment of the situation and his surroundings.

Only three people in the room: the woman, Gabriel, and his mate. Gabe was the only one behind bars, though, and still bound by shackles.

“Look at you,” the woman cooed appreciatively as she walked closer to the bars, her blue eyes like crystal-clear mountain water, open wide like those of a startled child. “So beautiful.”

Her purring voice gave Gabe a hint of why he was here, and inwardly he shuddered at the thought. Yes, in his lifetime he had slept with both men and women, but the latter had never sat well with him. With women he had never been able to let go, and he had felt empty emotionally. He just connected more with men.

And at the moment, his mate stood on the other side of the bars, not realizing the truth of it. That was a depressing thought Gabe quickly dismissed for fear of exposure.

The woman’s slender fingers caressed the bars in a suggestive manner while she bit her pouting lower lip and batted her long eyelashes. “You may not be aware of this, Gabriel, but you and I have met before.” Gabe frowned. She didn’t seem familiar. “Of course, at the time I was just a little girl. I still had pigtails, then, and I wore a petite pink dress with cute tiny shoes with red ribbons on them.” Her giggles might have sounded endearing to someone without a brain, but Gabe felt only chills down his spine, though he showed none of it.

Pacing back and forth by the bars, she was clearly getting anxious about Gabe’s mutinous silence, and this time her lip biting wasn’t the least bit seductive. “Don’t be so despondent, Gabriel. I’m not going to hurt you.” She stopped, put both hands on the bars, and gave him what was obviously her most charming expression. “I’ve adored you from afar for years. I told my father I wanted you, or no one. And here you are.”

Her glee made Gabe’s blood run cold.
Dammit, another wolfie
. Most of the beings from the formerly Unseen World had accumulated fans and followers since the Great Unveiling, and his kind, the lycan breed, were no different. The King family had had run-ins with werewolf groupies before, usually with violent results. Gabe would be damned if he allowed this woman to get her way with him.

“Oh goodness, where are my manners?” she suddenly exclaimed, giggling and tossing her long tresses around in a gesture Gabe assumed was meant to be alluring, but missed its mark by miles. “My name is Victoria Adler, and my father is William Adler, a devout supporter for mythos rights. You met him when he bought a pony for me when I was just a little girl, remember?”

Gabe could not in good conscience say he did because he didn’t. The Howling Creek Ranch was renowned, but honestly, too many kids got their first horses from the ranch for Gabe to recall a specific child, let alone a parent. This probably had something to do with the fact that he raised bulls and cattle with his brother Uri, while his younger brothers Michael and Rafe handled the horses and their training.

“I knew from the moment I saw you that you’d be my mate.” Her tone spoke of pink dreams and girlish desires that had nothing to do with reality, and her blue eyes didn’t seem to see
him
as much as her gaze was directed inward to a fantasy of a man.

“But I am
not
your mate. And I never will be.”

I
T
WAS
the first time Kieran heard Gabriel King, their captive cowboy werewolf, speak, and he fell in love instantly. That deep, rumbling voice washed over Kieran’s senses, like a velvety caress, and he had nothing to compare this strange new feeling with. He had never fallen for anyone so hard and fast, let alone a guy—until now.

Refocusing on the conversation, Kieran kept his expression blank, though he had to dig his fingernails into his palms to do so.

“Don’t be silly, sweetheart. Of course you are mine.” Giggling, she shook her head as if truly baffled by Gabriel’s response. “You’re here, aren’t you? Oh, stop goofing around, Gabriel, my pet. We will be so happy together. You’ll see.” Letting out a long, enchanted sigh, she inspected the prisoner from head to toe, admiringly.

Now Kieran was worried. This woman who paid them to do a job, Victoria Adler, was clearly a few cards short of a full deck. It was hardly unexpected for a person who was after mythical beings, but still….