Taming the Moon (21 page)

“We can’t change what happened.” He drew in a breath. “If you hadn’t made me a werewolf, I would have died with your second attempt.”

“My second attempt was here in Tucson. If you weren’t a werewolf, you probably wouldn’t even have been here.”
She sniffed as if fighting back more tears. “Peter wouldn’t have run you over, either.”

He had thought of that. But Sully knew Miles wouldn’t have given up. Ever. “Even if you’d quit after that first attempt, do you think Miles would have stopped trying?” He moved his hands to her shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Do you think he wouldn’t have sent someone else after me? Someone like Walter, who wouldn’t have had a second’s hesitation about killing me?”

Olivia shook her head. “No.” Her gaze skittered back to the bedroom door. “Both of us would be dead by now.”

He knew her thoughts were once again on her daughter. “And where would that have left Zoe?” He put one hand under her chin and turned her head so he could look into her eyes. “You couldn’t have left her to Miles’ mercy without a fight, sweetheart. I don’t blame you for that. She seems like a good kid—feisty like her mother. I’m looking forward to getting to know her.” Thinking of what lay ahead, he smiled.

Her breath caught.

His keen hearing picked up her accelerated heart rate.

“Sully…”

“Give us a chance, love. Please.” His own heartbeat picked up speed. He stared down at her, willing her to accept him. Accept them.

Accept herself. To believe—to
know
—that with all her flaws she was still a woman deserving of love.

She went up on tiptoe and placed her mouth on his, her hands cradling his face. Tongues met and intertwined, breaths mingled. When she drew away, they both breathed a bit heavier. “I love you, Rory Sullivan.”

“And I love you, Olivia Felan. My little warrior wolf.”

Whatever the future held—whatever difficulties being a werewolf presented—they would face them together.

The threat from Miles was over, and they had their entire lives to learn about each other and to raise Zoe. And any other children they might have together.

Whether that was in London or in Tucson. Wherever Olivia and Zoe were, that was home.

A
t Declan’s a few days later, Olivia sat on a lounge chair outside and watched Zoe and Sully at the patio table, playing her daughter’s favorite card game.

“Do you have any twos?” Sully asked, his voice deep and delightfully crisp. He sat sideways to the table, in a spot in the sun, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He wore only a pair of shorts. The sun glinted off his dark hair and glistened on his skin.

A week in the Tucson sun had given him the beginnings of a nice tan. It suited him. Not that he hadn’t been extraordinary looking before, but his darker skin made his teeth seem even whiter, the green of his eyes more vivid.

“Go Fish!” her daughter cried out with glee. Zoe still wore her swimsuit, her feet in flip-flops swinging back and forth beneath the table.

Sully heaved an exaggerated sigh and picked up a card.

“Do you have any…sixes?”

He sighed again and handed over the card he’d just drawn. As Zoe giggled and took it, he gave her a suspicious stare. “Are you sure you didn’t peek?”

“No!” She giggled again. “Do you have…any jacks?”

Sully smirked. “Ha! Go Fish.”

Zoe rolled her eyes at what she clearly perceived to be his childish response but picked a card.

“She’s really quite adorable.” Pelicia sat in the lounger next to Olivia and set down a glass of iced tea on a low table between the two chairs.

“Yes, she is. Thanks,” she added, picking up the glass and taking a sip.

“She’s lucky to have you.”

Olivia shook her head. “I’m the lucky one.” She glanced from her daughter to Sully. “In a lot of ways.”

Declan walked onto the patio, pausing in a spot of sunshine to close his eyes and tilt his face up with a long indrawn breath. He wore a pair of shorts and, like Sully, was shirtless.

“Did Ryder and Taite make it home all right?” Pelicia asked.

“Aye.” He turned and walked toward them. Pelicia moved her legs, and he sat on the bottom of her lounge chair. “Your dad was happy to have them home.”

“How is he?” She leaned forward and draped her arm over one of his brawny shoulders.

“He’s good. Misses you.” He turned his head and placed a kiss on her forearm. He reached up and twined his fingers through hers, holding her hand in a loose grip.

“I miss him, too. But I’ll see him in another few weeks.” She looked at Olivia. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

Olivia settled back against the lounger and took another sip of tea. “Sully’s going with us to New York. We’ll stay long enough to gather some clothes, personal papers, and
anything of sentimental value. I’m telling the super to sell everything else. Then we’re heading to England to meet Sully’s mom and brother.”

“Well, I guarantee his mother will fall in love with little Zoe.” Declan looked at Olivia with a grin. “She’s been pesterin’ Sully to settle down and give her grandchildren for years now.”

Olivia felt some doubt. “But Zoe isn’t her biological grandchild.”

Declan shook his head. “Won’t matter. Especially as soon as she sees how enamored Sully is of her. That’ll make her happy.” He looked at his friend. “He was beginnin’ to be too much of a lone wolf to suit her. If she only knew.”

“Very funny.” Sully glanced toward them and then back at Zoe. “Go Fish,” he said in response to her request for a three.

“What’s funny?” the little girl asked as she reached for the deck of cards.

“Declan’s funny. Just Declan.” Sully shifted in his chair. “Give me all your sevens,” he said in a raspy voice.

She grinned and handed over two cards.

“He is good with her, isn’t he?” Olivia leaned her head against the lounger and closed her eyes. When the time came to tell Zoe what her mother was—what she and Sully both were—she was glad he’d be with her.

Her life had come full circle. Once again she and her daughter were safe, and they had a man they both loved who loved them in return.

All she’d had to do was follow her heart.

If you liked this book, try Bianca D’Arc’s ONCE BITTEN, TWICE DEAD, available now from Brava!

Somewhere near Stony Brook, Long Island, New York

“U
nit twelve,” the dispatcher’s voice crackled over the radio. Sarah perked up. That was her. She listened as the report rolled over the radio. A disturbance in a vacant building out on Wheeler Road, near the big medical center. Probably kids, she thought, responding to dispatch and turning her patrol car around.

Since the budget cuts, she rolled alone. She hadn’t had a partner in a long time, but she was good at her job and confident in her abilities. She could handle a couple of kids messing around in an empty building.

Sarah stepped into the gloomy concrete interior of the building. The metal door hung off its hinges and old boards covered the windows. Broken glass littered the floor and graffiti decorated the walls.

The latest decorators had been junkies and kids looking for a secret place to either get high or drink beer where no one could see. There didn’t appear to be anyone home at the moment. They’d probably cleared out in a hurry when they’d seen Sarah’s cruiser pull up outside. Still, she had to check the place.

Nightstick in one hand, flashlight in the other, Sarah made
her way into the gloom of the building. Electricity was a thing of the past in this place. Light fixtures dangled brokenly from the remnants of a dropped ceiling as Sarah advanced into the dark interior.

She heard a scurrying sound that could have been footsteps or could have been rodents. Either way, her heartbeat sped up.

“Police,” she identified herself in a loud, firm voice. “Show yourself.”

She directed the flashlight into the dark corners of the room as she crept inside. The place had a vast outer warehouse type area with halls and doors leading even farther inside the big structure. She didn’t really want to go in there, but saw no alternative. She decided to advance slowly at first, then zip through the rest of the building, hoping no one got behind her to cut off her retreat.

She had her sidearm, but she’d rather not have to shoot anyone today. Especially not some kids out for a lark. They liked to test their limits and hers. She’d been up against more than one teenage bully who thought because she was a woman, she’d be a pushover. They’d learned the hard way not to mess with Sarah Petit.

She heard that sort of brushing sound again. Her heart raced as adrenaline surged. She’d learned to channel fear into something more useful. Fear became strength if you knew how to use it.

“This is the police,” she repeated in a loud, carrying voice. “Step into the light and show yourself.”

More shuffling. It sounded from down the corridor on the left. Sarah approached, her nightstick at the ready. The flashlight illuminated the corner of the opening, not showing her much. The sounds were growing louder. There was definitely someone—or something—there. Perhaps waiting to ambush her, down that dark hallway.

She wouldn’t fall for that. Sarah approached from a good ten feet out, maneuvering so that her flashlight could penetrate farther down the black hall. With each step, more of the corridor became visible to her.

Squinting to see better, Sarah stepped fully in front of the opening to the long hallway. There. Near the end. There was a person standing.

“I’m a police officer. Come out of there immediately.” Her voice was firm and as loud as she could project it. The figure at the end of the hallway didn’t respond. She couldn’t even tell if it was male or female.

It sort of swayed as it tried to move. Maybe a junkie so high they were completely out of it? Sarah wasn’t sure. She edged closer.

“Are you all right?”

She heard a weird moaning sound. It didn’t sound human, but the shape at the end of the long hall was definitely standing on two feet with two arms braced against the wall as if for balance. The inhuman moan came again. It was coming from that shadowy person.

Sarah stepped cautiously closer to the mouth of the hallway. It was about four feet across. Not a lot of room to maneuver.

She didn’t like this setup, but she had to see if that person needed help. Sarah grabbed the radio mic clipped to her shoulder.

“This is Unit Twelve. I’m at the location. There appears to be a person in distress in the interior of the building.”

“What kind of distress, Unit Twelve?”

“Uncertain. Subject seems unable to speak. I’m going to get closer to see if I can give you more information.”

“Should we dispatch an ambulance?”

Sarah thought about it for a half a second. No matter what, this person would need a medical check. Worst-case scenario, it was a junkie in the throes of a really bad trip.

“Affirmative. Dispatch medical to this location. I’m going to see if I can get them to come out, but I may need some backup.”

“Dispatching paramedics and another unit to your location. ETA ten minutes on the backup, fifteen on the paramedics.”

“Roger that.”

With backup and medical help on the way, Sarah felt a little better about taking the next step. She walked closer to the corridor’s mouth. The person was still there, still mostly unrecognizable in the harsh light of the flashlight beam.

“Help is coming,” she called to the figure. From its height, she thought it was probably a male. He moved a little closer. Wild hair hung in limp hanks around his face. It was longer than most men’s, but junkies weren’t best known for their grooming and personal hygiene.

“That’s it,” she coaxed as the man shuffled forward on unsteady feet. “Come on out of there. Help is on the way. No one’s going to hurt you.”

Sarah stepped into the corridor, just a few feet, hoping to coax the man forward. He was definitely out of it. He made small noises. Sort of grunting, moaning sounds that weren’t intelligible. It gave her the creeps, as did the way the man moved. He shuffled like Frankenstein’s assistant in those old horror movies, keeping his head down, and his clothes were in tatters.

This dude had to be on one hell of a bender. Sarah lowered the flashlight beam off his head as he moved closer, trying to get a better look at the rest of him. His clothes were shredded like he’d been in a fight with a bear—or something else with sharp claws. His shirt hung off him in strips of fabric and his pants weren’t much better.

The dark brown of bloodstains could be seen all over his clothing. Sarah grew more concerned. He had to be in really
bad shape from the look of the blood that had been spilled. She wondered if that was all his blood or if there was another victim lying around here somewhere in even worse shape.

His head was still down as he approached and Sarah backed up a step. His hair hung in what looked like greasy clumps. Only as he drew closer did he realize his hair wasn’t matted with oil and dirt. It was stuck together by dried blood.

Then he looked up.

Sarah stifled a scream. Half his face was…gone. Just gone.

It looked like something had gnawed on his flesh. Blank eyes stared out at her from a ruined face. The tip of his nose was gone, as were his lips and the flesh of one side of his jaw and cheek.

Sarah gasped and turned to run, but something came up behind her and tripped her. She fell backward with a resounding thud, cracking her skull on the hard cement floor.

She fought against the hands that tried to grab her, but they were too strong, and her head spun from the concussion she’d no doubt just received. She felt sick to her stomach. The adrenaline of fear pushed her to keep going. Keep moving. Get away. Survive until her backup arrived.

Thank God she’d already called for backup.

Not one, but two men—if she could call them that—were holding her down. The one with the ruined face had her feet and the other had hold of her arms, even as she struggled against him.

She looked into the first one’s eyes and saw…nothing. They were blank. No emotion. No feeling. No nothing.

Just hunger.

Fear clutched her heart in its icy grip. The second man looked wild in the dim light from her flashlight. It had rolled to the side, but was still on and lancing into the darkness of the building’s interior nearby. Faint light shone on her two assailants.

They both looked like something out of a horror movie. The one from the hallway was, by far, the more gruesome of the two, but the one who wrestled with her arms was frightening too. His skin was cold to the touch and it looked almost gray, though she couldn’t be sure in the uncertain light. Neither spoke, but both made those inhuman moaning sounds.

Even as she kicked and struggled, she felt teeth rip into her thigh. Sarah screamed for all she was worth as the first man broke through her skin and blood welled. The second man dove onto her prone form, knocking her flat and bashing her head on the concrete a second time. Stunned, she was still aware when his teeth sank into her shoulder.

She was going to die here. Eaten alive by these cannibals.

Something inside Sarah rebelled at the thought. No way in hell was she going down like this.

Help was on the way. All she had to do was hold on until her backup arrived. She could do that. She
had
to do that.

Channeling the adrenaline, Sarah ignored the pain and used every last bit of her strength to kick the man off her legs. She bucked like a crazy woman, dislodging the first man.

Once her legs were free, she used them to leverage her upper body at an angle, forcing the second man to move. The slight change in position freed one hand. She grasped around for anything on the floor next to her and came up with a hard, cylindrical object. Her nightstick.

Praise the Lord.

Putting all her remaining strength behind it, she aimed for the man’s head, raining blows on him with the stick. When that didn’t work, she changed targets, looking for anything that might hurt him. She whacked at his body with the hard wood of the stick. She heard a few of the bones in his hand crack at one point, but this guy was tough. Nothing seemed to faze him.

Finally, she used the pointy end of the stick to push at his neck. That seemed to get some results as he shifted away. He
moved enough for her to use the rest of her body for leverage, crawling out from under him.

His friend was up and coming back as she crabwalked away on her hands and feet, toward the door and the sunshine beyond. Her backup was coming. She just had to hold on until they could find her.

The two men followed her, moving as if they had all the time in the world. Their pace was steady and measured as she crawled as fast as she could toward the door. It didn’t make any sense. They could have easily overtaken her, but they kept to their slow, walking pace.

Sarah hit the door and practically threw herself over the threshold. She had to get out in the open where her backup would see her right away. She was losing blood fast and her vision was dancing, tunneling down to a single dim spot. She was going to pass out any second. She had to do all she could to save herself before that happened.

Backup was coming. That thought kept her going. They’d be here any second. She just had to hold on.

She crawled into the sunlight, near her cruiser. Leaning against the side of her car, she tried for her radio, but the mic was long gone—probably a victim of the struggle with those two men. They were coming for her. They had to be.

But when she looked up, she saw them hesitate at the doorway to the building. The second man stepped through, but the first stayed behind, cowering in the darkness. The second man’s skin was gray in the outdoor light. He looked like some kind of walking corpse, with grisly brown stains of dried blood all around his mouth. Some of it was bright red. That was
her
blood. The sick bastard had bitten her.

The man walked calmly forward, under the trees that shaded the walkway to the old building. Sarah had parked on the street, out in open sun. She watched in dread as the man walked steadily toward her, death in his flat gaze.

Then something odd happened. He stopped where the tree cover ended. He seemed reluctant to step into the sun.

Sarah blinked, but there wasn’t any other explanation she could think of. Then she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Her backup.

With salvation in sight, she finally passed out.