Moonbound (Moonfate Serial Book 1) Page 7

  I creak my bedroom door open further with my foot.

  It’s not until I’m standing in front of Lawrence’s door that I realize I don’t know how to open it without taking a hand off the gun and losing accuracy. I kick the door hard. Unlike in the movies, it doesn’t bust down.

  No sound comes from the other side. I take my left hand off the gun; the pointer finger of my right hand is hot and slick with sweat against the trigger. Then I turn the knob.

  Nothing moves in Lawrence’s room. It’s incredibly clean, decorated with repainted furniture he bought off of Craigslist. Undisturbed. My left hand flies back to the gun anyway, steadying it.

  Bang. Bang.

  My gaze darts to the left, and I see it. A gust blows, sending the old transom window, the kind that latches at the center, slapping against its frame.

  That was the noise. Not a gunshot.

  For the first time since I entered the house, my heart slows, but I don’t lower the gun until I check the closet and under the bed.

  Nothing. Just me and the dead body in the living room.

  Cooper.

  He didn’t deserve to die. And Lawrence—

  No, I won’t think about that.

  The numbness reaches my fingertips. All I want to do is pass out. I’m so tired. But even if whoever did this isn’t here now, he could be coming back. I have to get out of here.

  I flip the safety of the gun back on and shove it in my waistband, but then notice a glimmer of silver on Lawrence’s dresser. His phone.

  A weight bears down on me. Lawrence never goes anywhere without his phone. Never. There have been days when I’ve seen him forget his keys, his wallet, and put on mismatched hipster polka-dot socks. But he always has his phone.

  I set the gun on the dresser and pick up the phone. Then I press the home button and it lights up. A notification of one text message blinks, but it was sent by Lawrence himself.

  “Help, Artemis. Kidnapped. The Werebeasts want my blood.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  I glance around the room, searching for signs of a struggle, but I find none. Then I look back at the message. In real life you don’t get a noble death or a ransom note; you get a text that says, “They want my blood.”

  I’m crying, I realize. I lean my hand on the windowsill, refusing to fall to my knees again. The tears come harsh and hot down my cheeks, burning my skin, and soon they turn to sobs so strong that I feel like I’m turning my throat inside out.

  I couldn’t stop it. I never could. I couldn’t stop my parents from being murdered or Lawrence from being kidnapped. I glare at the useless gun.

  The worst part is that all of this has absolutely nothing to do with me. I thought that if I kept myself safe and away from werebeasts they could never hurt me or anyone else I loved again. But I was wrong. There is so much in this world I can’t control.

  I let out a shuddering sigh.

  Suddenly, Orion’s offer doesn’t seem unappealing. To give up control to someone else, to have them keep me safe. Even a werewolf.

  That thought gives me an idea. Reaching over to Lawrence’s phone, still sniffling, I hit the Tracker button. Again, the map unfolds in front of me. I see two dots, one for Cooper, lying here in my house, and another only a couple miles south of where I left Orion. My heart flip-flops in my chest.

  He’s still out there. Is he still waiting for me?

  Instead of scrolling out this time, I click on an hourglass in the corner of the screen. A simple blue line, dotted with timestamps, replaces the map. I swipe backwards a half-hour. That must have been when Cooper was attacked and killed. Any earlier, with the open windows, the whole house would’ve been soaked from the rain.

  A map of Tracker shows up from approximately an hour ago. Nothing. No werebeasts. Except for the dot in the house—Cooper’s body—and the red dot — Orion. I press my lips together, trying not to remember the feel of his soft kiss.

  Shaking my head, I click through the other timestamps, reviewing hour after hour of records. Still nothing. According to Tracker, no were except Cooper has been near this house tonight.

  But that can’t be right. I know a were must have done it. Why else would Lawrence have texted out that message? There’s only one other option. The weres that attacked Lawrence haven’t been cataloged by Tracker. Which means the only way to find him is hunting the old-fashioned way.

  Who can do that except the FBSI?

  I tap the nearby red dot and am once again brought to Orion’s profile. It’s so strange seeing his name now that I have a face to put to it. It’s as if after meeting him I realize how little I actually know about him.

  I scroll down a little farther. His profile is as empty as always, except for an addition that makes me pause.

  A phone number.

  I stare at it, the hazy beginnings of a plan forming in my mind. Before I know what it is completely, I know that it’s a bad idea. But the facts all point to it. I know the police won’t be of any help, and the FBSI even less so. There’s no way I’m going to be able to find Lawrence by myself.

  There’s only one person who would be willing to help me.

  You just need to see him again, touch him again, I accuse myself.

  Yes, and that need will save Lawrence.

  But dammit, am I really ready to lose everything, my mind, my body, my freedom…my soul?

  I think of Lawrence, of that day we met in the McDonalds after the matemark showed up. How I noticed him whimpering into his super-sized cup of Coke. I recognized his face because we went to the same high school, even though we had never spoken before, so I sat down next to him and asked what was wrong.

  He wouldn’t tell me, of course.

  So I told him. Spilled out everything: the murder, the FBSI, my matemark. I knew it was a risk, but I didn’t care.

  I remember he got very still then. At first I thought he was going to tell me to stop feeling sorry for myself, but he didn’t. Instead he started to tell me his story.

  He told me that John, his boyfriend, had been killed in a drive-by by rival gang. Lawrence hadn’t even known that John was in a gang, let alone that the reason he was gunned down was because John was V-positive.

  He explained all of this to me in a calm, even monotone broken only by the occasional long pause to hold back tears. The only time he ever actually cried was when he told me in a low snarl that not only had John been killed, but he had passed his disease on to Lawrence, as well. This was, of course, before Henderson’s cure rendered the disease non-transferable.

  I remember grabbing Lawrence’s—this stranger’s—hand, and for the first time since my parents had died, feeling close to someone.

  The truth is he saved me. Because I hadn’t come to McDonalds for the fries. I came there with a bottle of pills, knowing that their dinky bathroom was the only place I might be able to get some privacy to end my life. And Lawrence convinced me that just because someone leaves you doesn’t mean that you’re alone.

  Now it’s my turn to save him.

  I dial Orion’s number.

  It seems like it takes forever before the phone starts to ring.

  My stomach scrunches up with nerves as I imagine his voice. He let me go. I let him go. We know nothing about each other save for our connection. Why would he help me? I wonder if he’ll even answer. He doesn’t know my number.

  It rings again. A third time and then a fourth.

  I move my thumb to hang up. I don’t want to hear his voicemail, if he has one. I should just go to the FBSI. So what if Lawrence, whoever killed Cooper, and I all end up lost in their labyrinths of red tape forever? Better that than dead.

  “Orion North,” he answers.

  His words paralyze me, for the first time not conjuring images of him pinning me down, but just holding me, kissing me. Gently, so gently. And for a price.

  My own embarrassingly loud breathing statics into the tiny phone’s receiver. He must be able to hear it, too.

  For one long mom
ent neither of us speaks.

  “Orion?”

  I hear a sharp intake of breath at the other end of the line. “Artemis?”

  My heart double-times. “I…uh.” This is hard to say after my whole speech back in the alley. Leaving him. I can’t do this. But I have to. For Lawrence.

  “Having second thoughts?” I can tell he’s trying to keep his voice light, but a deep undercurrent threatens to sweep me away.

  “No. I—” A sob catapults up my throat and out my lips. “Something’s happened.”

  “Artemis,” he soothes. “Slow down.”

  His command shouldn’t work—it doesn’t sound like his growly werecall from earlier—but it does. My heart beat slows from hyper-speed to just fast. “I don’t even know what to say. This is all just insane.”

  I press my hand to my chest to steady myself, expecting him to interrupt in the silence, but he doesn’t.

  Finally, I spit it out. “Cooper’s dead.”

  “Who is Cooper?” he asks with utter patience, like a parent talking to kid who has lost their stuffed animal.

  He doesn’t get it.

  “He’s this werebeast I met tonight at the bar, and he said that I couldn’t fight destiny, and that he had had sex with Lawrence and that gay werebeasts aren’t allowed by his psycho boss, and now he’s in my house and he’s dead, and I don’t have any clue what to do so now I’m talking to you, even though I know that I said I never would again, but he’s d-dead.” The words heave out of me, but even after I’m done I still want to throw up.

  The silence on the line is even longer than the space between the rings was. Finally, he asks, “Are you in danger?”

  I consider his words carefully. “I don’t think so.”

  “Artemis.” His growl brooks no disagreement. “Don’t lie to me. Are you in danger?”

  “Maybe.”

  “It was a mistake letting you go.”

  “No—wait.” How quickly my tenuous freedom is being revoked. “I’m not staying with you.”

  He growls again and my core heats in response.

  “I like your bravery and your fire, but I will not have you hurt,” he promises.

  “You don’t understand. It’s not me I’m worried about, it’s my roommate, Lawrence.”

  “You live with another male?”

  “No, no,” I backtrack. “I mean yes, but he’s gay.”

  “And he’s in trouble.” His voice softens again.

  I swallow. “Kidnapped. I think.” But the terror still finds its way up. “I hope. Oh, God, what if he’s dead?” My fear has broken all the barriers between us, and I can’t stop all my thoughts from pouring out.

  “He might be. There are some nasty members of our species, Artemis.”

  “H-he might be?” I sniffle. “Aren’t you supposed to make me feel better?”

  “I will never lie to you.”

  “I think I’ve had enough of the truth for one night.” I wipe away the stinging tears on my cheeks. My whole body feels drunk, unsteady. “I don’t even get why you’d help me, besides some stupid matemark. I’m not brave or passionate or whatever.”

  “Artemis.” His low voice shocks me out of my stupor, clearing away everything. “Close your eyes.”

  I almost do. I imagine his strong arms holding me, keeping me up, sheltering me from the storm and the evils of the world. But I also think of all that I can’t control, and know that I can’t give up the one thing I can. Myself.

  I keep my eyes open.

  “There.” I can almost hear him smirk over the phone.

  “What?”

  “You didn’t close your eyes.”

  How did he know? Was he waiting there for me on the other side of our shared connection? I shiver. “So?”

  “If you’re strong enough to resist the power of our bond, silly girl, you’re strong enough to triumph over anything.” His voice vibrates the speaker of the phone against my cheek. “I just have to teach you that there are worthier causes than fighting me. Perhaps fighting for your friend can be one of them.”

  I put the phone on speaker and set it down, needing some distance. “You’ll help me? You won’t try to kidnap me and bring me back to your cave to protect me?”

  “I don’t live in a cave,” he says lightly. “And of course I’ll help you.”

  “You will?” I fidget with one of my curls, wrapping it so tightly around my finger I cut off circulation.

  “But I’ll need answers.”

  “What?” My mind runs through all the possible things he might ask for, my body, my heart, and my submission. Answers are not on that list.

  “I won’t be kept in the dark,” he says. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to, but you say that I don’t know you. That you don’t know me. If I help you, that will change.” His voice drops a half-octave. “In every way.”

  He still wants to consume me. And there’s still some part of me that wants to let him. But I can see it. I can handle it. I can tiptoe across this high wire between desire and destruction. No—more than that. I can use the pull I have over Orion to save Lawrence. And then I can walk away.

  “I swear I’m not going to submit to you,” I say, more for myself than for him.

  “I won’t hold you to that promise,” he says in that way he has of making it seem like his voice is right next to me. As if he’s touching me. “But I will hold you to this one. Let me know you, see you as you truly are. And I will help you. Do we have a deal?”

  I pause, listening to the rush of blood through my ears, feeling the embers of need awakening in my stomach. It’s a familiar sensation now. Like looking over the edge of a cliff I’ve already jumped off of—scary and exciting in a whole new way, because I know exactly what jumping really means.

  And it’s not like I really have a choice anyway. This is the best way to find Lawrence.

  I take a deep breath, trying to ignore the feeling that I’m signing away my soul. “Yes, I accept.”

  “Then I will see you soon, Little Mate.” I can hear his grin.

  The line goes dead. Unlike a traditional phone, there is no dial tone, just silence. I stare at it a moment, just letting the reality of everything sink into me. Memories drift through me.

  My mother whispering that she’d love me forever. Lawrence and me dodging reporters and investigators to make our way in the world. My dad telling me how proud of me he was when I got the lead in the school play. And most of all I remember that night, being stuck in the tent, unable to get out. Hearing them die.

  I think I’ve lived my whole life stuck in that tent. But it’s time to come out.

  I stand up and shove the phone in my pocket. The metal of the gun glints at me from the dresser, tempting me. I hate it and I need it at the same time. Power’s like that, I guess. Dangerous, enticing and sometimes, whether I like it or not, necessary. My hand trembles as I flick the safety of the gun back on and grab it. The shaking only gets worse as I turn toward the door and rest my hand on the knob.

  Yes, I’m afraid.

  Terrified, actually.

  But feeling that and going out to face my fears anyway?

  That’s what makes me brave.

  * * * * * * * *

  Artemis's story continues in Huntbound, available for preorder now here.

  Artemis’s and Orion’s search for Lawrence will continue in Moonhunt, the second installment in the Moonfate serial, coming October 30th. You can even read it for free when it comes out by leaving a review and signing up for my mailing list here. Make sure you put the link to your review in the “other” box so I know it’s you.

  A lot of people have read Moonbound, my beta-readers, my author friends, my editors, strangers on the street I kidnapped, your grandmother, former US president Bill Clinton — okay, okay. So some of those people have read Moonbound, but none of their opinions are as important to me as yours.

  If you've done all that and still want tell me you liked it or ask me why on earth I put
a werepufferfish in a romance novel (there's a great story there) you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and my website, sylviafrost.com

  Even if you never want to interact with me at all, my website has cool little Easter eggs like pictures of half-naked men and even a trailer (again, half-naked Orion!).

  All in all, thanks for reading. I'll see you on October 30th when the witching hour breaks. Buckle up. The ride only gets wilder from here.