Crying for the Moon (11 page)

“Oh, you poor bubby,” Tate crooned. “Look at your marvelous blue eyes! You just hold still a moment longer and I’ll be done with you. I promise. I’m just a big meanie, working on you without any drugs at all. Aren’t I?” He continued to talk in a soothing, nonsensical fashion as he worked. Alex watched with a rapt gaze as a single bead of sweat formed at Tate’s brow and trickled its way past his cheekbone. Tate was not as calm as he seemed. When Alex listened, he could hear the strong pulse of Tate’s heartbeat.

Tate finished the laceration he was working on, but Peter was too restive for him to sew up any more. “We’ll just have to let the others go and see what they look like in the morning. Hold him!” he added, when Peter began to go after the IV catheter. He quickly detached the fluid line while Alex held down the struggling Peter, who snarled and snapped while Tate covered the catheter with bandaging material. He gave it a spritz of something from a small bottle and Nick, who had been nosing in, shook his head and sneezed.

“Well, maybe that’ll keep everyone’s mouth off of it,” Tate said to Nick, by way of explanation. “
Yuk,
” he said to Alex, holding up the bottle so that Alex could see the picture of a green dog sticking its tongue out in disgust. The bottle said YUK in poisonous green letters. Tate left it on the bedside table before sighing and pulling off the latex gloves. He began packing his equipment away.

Alex felt bad as he watched Tate yawn. He glanced at his watch. It was nearly three a.m. “You can stay here the rest of the night if you like,” he offered.

“I appreciate it.” Tate smiled tiredly at him. “But I’ll be fine.”

“Let me at least help you carry stuff out.” Alex didn’t like the idea of Tate running into Tish and Duncan on his way back to the car. He glanced back to see if Nick intended to follow, but he had climbed onto the bed and lay with his head on Peter’s flank, watching them with solemn eyes. Something inside Alex’s heart twisted at the sight, and he realized what he felt was a rush of envy.

Alex insisted on carrying the trunk to the car, surprised that it was so heavy. Tate opened the back of the car to let Alex set the trunk down within, pulling the hatch closed by its handle. The moon still cast a stark, unforgiving light upon the driveway and yard. The air was decidedly colder; Tate was shrugging back into his sweatshirt and coat.

“Well,” he said. “I’ll be back tomorrow sometime to check on Shaggy and to bring some more meds. Oral antibiotics and some anti-inflammatories.”

Alex nodded, weary beyond belief. “I really appreciate all that you’ve done. You have no idea. What do I owe you?”

Tate looked down at his feet and then up again, smiling as he reached out to touch Alex’s arm. “Nothing. Call it an educational experience.”

“Tate!” Alex protested. “You have to charge me something. You came out here in the middle of the night, risking your life, simply because—”

Alex never got to finish his sentence. Tate pushed forward suddenly, brushing his warm lips against Alex’s, his hand still gripping Alex’s arm. “Call it even,” he said, his breath lush against Alex’s skin.

Alex froze for a second, surprised and yet not surprised by Tate’s boldness. A rush of hunger swept over him like a wildfire on a dry mountainside; he grasped Tate by his coat sleeve and pulled him in even closer. He could sense the pulse of Tate’s heartbeat at his throat. He could feel the intensity of the pull between them, even as Tate licked his lips and tipped his head to meet Alex halfway.

Alex closed the distance between them, his lips seeking Tate eagerly. Tate responded with a deep intake of breath as he opened his mouth and Alex pressed up against him before he knew it, pushing Tate back onto the rear hatch of the car. Tate let the car support him, spreading his legs as he let Alex in. He welcomed Alex’s kiss with a matching ferocity, tongues pushing against each other, drinking each other in until all ability to breathe, to think, was lost.

It wasn’t enough. Alex sought skin contact, and was frustrated by Tate’s heavy clothing. He broke off his kiss to nip at Tate’s lips and then the skin of his jaw, alongside his neck. The need to bite until he drew blood almost overwhelmed him, and he took refuge in planting his lips on Tate’s skin, sucking until he left a mark. Tate moaned and twisted underneath him, and Alex could feel his fangs elongate in his mouth, even as the heat pulsed in his groin. He began to thrust his pelvis forward, seeking some sort of purchase, rubbing up against Tate.

He pulled back just before he completely lost himself and bit down over Tate’s jugular, releasing the warm, hot blood that was life itself to him. Tate’s lips were swollen from the rough kissing; in the moonlight, his pupils were blown into black, fathomless wells.

Alex staggered back as though he was pure vampire and the dawn’s first light had touched his skin. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me,” he lied.

“I’ve wanted you to do that ever since I met you,” Tate said. “Why apologize?”

“It’s complicated,” Alex said, regret evident in his voice.

“It always is.” Tate pushed himself off the car and gave Alex an encouraging smile. “And yet, it’s usually not as complicated as you think it is.”

He got into the car. “Think about it, Alex,” he said as he sat with the door open, the interior light casting a bubble of warm glow around him. “I’ll be back in the morning.” He shut the door and started the engine, heading slowly up the driveway.

Alex stood in the moonlit yard for a long time before the chill sank into his bones, and he remembered that Tish and Duncan were still somewhere out there in the forest. He shoved his hands in his pockets and returned to the house, pausing on the steps for one last look out into the darkness.

Chapter 5

A
LEX
tossed back the blanket he’d used to cover him as he’d dozed on the couch and sat up stiffly, stretching out his neck and shoulders. He would have to make some other form of sleeping arrangements before nightfall, he thought grimly, as he headed toward the kitchen. The scent of fresh-brewed coffee was in the air, which moderated his bad mood slightly.

Nick was in the kitchen with his back to the door when Alex came into the room. He was dressed only in a pair of jeans; he stood with one bare foot resting on top of the other as he leaned on the counter, staring at the coffeemaker as it slowly filled the carafe one drop at a time. The coffee was nearly ready. Alex knew Nick had heard him come down the hall, so he didn’t announce his presence. Instead, he waited for Nick to acknowledge him.

Slowly, Nick straightened and turned to face him.

He looked like shit. His hair was more disheveled than usual and looked a little stringy as well. There were bags under his eyes and his stubble was threatening to become a full beard. Alex had never seen Nick without his shirt before; he couldn’t help but note the odd scar here and there, standing out as thin, white lines on his tanned skin. His lean chest was not nearly as hairy as Alex had presumed, and Alex felt that little odd flicker of attraction again. Nick was wearing battered dog tags, which was also unexpected.

“I’m sorry,” Nick said, before Alex could speak. “I’m sorry we brought all this upon you.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, instead of taking Nick to task as he’d planned.

“I’m just worried about Peter, that’s all.” He gave himself a little shake and attempted a brief smile that seemed like more of a grimace.

Disturbed without knowing why, Alex brushed past him to open the cabinet and take out another mug. Coffee was the one constant through the centuries that he still craved, no matter how deeply he was or was not entrenched in the Life. “Have you heard from Tish and Duncan?”

The half smile grew stronger. “It might take them a while to make it back here this morning. Tish and Duncan get a little… frisky when the moon is full.”

Alex felt his mouth open and close briefly. Everyone in Nick’s group had been on edge as the moon waxed closer to full these past few nights. Nick had stopped shaving, becoming even scruffier than usual, and Duncan was more abrupt than ever; even Tish had been irritable and sharp. He’d assumed sex would be part of the bloodlust and feasting. However, Tish and Duncan? It defied all logic. “And you’re okay with that?”

Nick shrugged. The coffeemaker switched off and Nick poured out two steaming mugs. “Why not?”

It just contradicted everything Alex had ever learned about werewolf pack behavior; that was all. When the numbers of women in the group were few, alphas rarely shared. Part of the reason he’d become friends with Nick’s pack was their unconventional approach to were life, but this was unexpected.

“How’d you guys meet anyway?” Alex asked. The question had been on his mind for a while and now seemed as good a time as any to bring it up. Alex added sugar to his coffee and watched as Nick cradled his mug in his hands. Nick leaned back against the counter, crossing his feet at the ankles.

“I met Duncan when he was in the middle of a bar fight in downtown LA during the sixties.” Nick grinned briefly, obviously remembering. “He’s been a were for a long time, but he’d gotten himself in a corner where he was outnumbered and he wasn’t going to be able to get out of it without someone getting killed in public. The moon was rising full; the last thing he needed was an overnight stint in jail. Like an idiot, I stepped in to help him out.”

Alex rolled his eyes at him. Nick snorted. “I know, I know. Anyway, he was at loose ends; his previous pack had kicked him out. At least, that’s the story he gives out. Not so sure, myself. I think it was worse than that. He doesn’t talk about it.”

“He seems oddly loyal to you. He could have his own pack if he wanted it.”

Nick nodded and sipped his coffee. “Yeah. He just doesn’t want it.” He set the mug down, resting his hands on the counter behind him. “I met Tish down in New Orleans, after Hurricane Katrina. She’d just turned were and the guy that turned her took off without telling her
anything.
She had nowhere else to go. Don’t tell her, but she’s been a civilizing influence on us.”

Nick grinned briefly again and Alex couldn’t help but picture Tish’s gentle smile and its effect on Nick’s testosterone-driven group. Nick’s face closed down as he continued. “Peter’s relatively new to the weredom too.”

“And you?” Alex sipped from his mug, relishing the hot, bitter taste. “How’d you become a were?”

A rueful expression passed over Nick’s face. His hand closed over the dog tags hanging around his neck. “I was a fighter pilot in the Second World War. A few of us went over before the U.S. was officially part of it. I got shot down in ’40. There I was, on the ground, wounded and behind enemy lines, and I couldn’t say more than
gesundheit
in German. I was in a piss-load of trouble. A were came out of nowhere and attacked me. I thought he was going to kill me. For a long time, I wished that he had.” He shrugged, releasing the tags with a small
clink
of sound to pick up his mug again.

Alex nodded. He knew what Nick meant. Even if you willingly chose the Life, there was that moment of shock when you fully comprehended what you had given up.

A feral grin stole over Nick’s face. “Since I stuck out like a sore thumb, I hid in the forest and worked my way back across enemy territory. At night. Let me tell you, that first full moon was a fucking surprise. That’s when I realized I could never go home again. Not that I didn’t continue to contribute to the war effort. In my own way, of course.” He lifted his mug to his lips, continuing to smile. It wasn’t a very nice smile and it gave Alex a little frisson of sensation, recognition of the hunter in both of them.

Alex shared his grin. “And Peter?” he asked. He’d noticed that Nick had glossed over Peter’s introduction to the pack earlier.

“Ah, Peter.” Nick dragged Peter’s name out, obviously reminiscing as he stared down into his mug. He shifted restlessly, uncrossing his ankles, the toes of one foot curling and uncurling unconsciously against the tiled floor. “I ran across Peter when he was on a dig in Arizona. That’s one of his degrees, you know—archaeology. Well, he’d gotten separated from his group and was in trouble, when I came upon him in full moon.”

Nick hesitated. “It’s not like with you guys. Like I said last night, when the moon is high and the were is upon us, we don’t usually have the luxury of making rational decisions. The need to kill and eat is so strong…. Anyway, Peter had been hurt. He was dying, in fact. I could have finished him off, but I nipped him instead.”

“You what?” Alex was incredulous.

A dull-red flush crept up Nick’s neck to his cheekbones. “Well, he was obviously in some serious shit and yet he was being funny, and I just couldn’t help it. I nipped him and ran off. I was a
wolf
. It wasn’t like I could call nine-one-one.” He took a deep swig of coffee. “And then I found him the next morning and told him what a fucked-up thing I’d done to him.”

“What was his reaction?” Alex was oddly breathless, waiting for his answer. His mind flashed to Tate and he immediately shut down that train of thought.

“What else? He was pissed and horrified. Until he realized he would have died otherwise. Then he wanted to know what kinds of superpowers he’d have.” Nick shot a little glance in Alex’s direction, obviously gauging his reaction to the confession. There was something in Nick’s eyes that made Alex realize there was more to the story. His memory suddenly supplied him with the sight of Nick curled around Peter’s body, his black head resting in the crook of Peter’s flank.