Page 4 of Witch's Moon
Chapter 2
Ahowl shattered the night’s silence. Caleb raised his head. Then he shrugged—not his business, climbed into his truck, and slammed the door on the sound. He turned the key in the ignition and slowly pulled away.
He’d only gone a few feet when a woman’s scream tore through the night. The sound was inhuman, a creature in agony, and without conscious thought, his foot crashed onto the brake. The force of the stop stalled the truck and hurled him forward, slamming his body into the steering wheel. For a moment, he sat, his hands gripping the wheel, his knuckles white.
He tried to tell himself it didn’t have anything to do with him. That the scream was probably some ruse of Ethan’s to drag him back. But even knowing it might be a trick, Caleb couldn’t ignore that cry.
He’d turned his back on Ethan’s world over twenty years ago, and he’d sworn he’d never return. But Ethan knew him too well, knew the one thing that would induce Caleb to come anywhere near him or his pack.
Caleb’s mother had died when he was born, and Caleb knew nothing about her except she was human. He’d clung to that fact through the horrors of his childhood, dreamed of one day finding his mother’s family, a human family.
Tonight, Ethan had lured him here, claiming he was finally willing to talk, tell him the truth at last. And Caleb, like a fool, had come running.
Of course, it was a lie. He should have known Ethan would never reveal the secrets of the past. Instead, he’d had to listen to yet another crazy plot for world domination, some nonsense about the wolves finally getting their proper place in the world, and how Ethan wanted Caleb at his side.
Caleb had walked away without a backward glance, but he could still feel the rage churning in his gut.
The scream came again, and he cursed loudly. He restarted the truck and backed it off the road. Climbing out, he slammed the door and listened. The screams had stopped, the night was again silent, but Caleb’s whole being vibrated with a sense of wrongness.
He glided through the forest, following the direction the screams had come from. After a few minutes, he paused. The trees were thick; he could sense their age, feel the magic. He closed his eyes and allowed his inner sense to guide him. The air of foreboding increased with each step he took, until it was a tangible thing pressing against him. Finally, he came to a clearing.
His hatred rose as he breathed in the familiar, feral scent of the pack. But beneath that, he sensed something new and sweet mingled with the sharp, acrid aroma of fresh blood.
Ethan was no longer in the clearing, but two huge creatures stood guard over the huddled shape of a body lying at their feet. Caleb swore softly. No way could he put both of them out of action without bringing the rest of the pack down on him. Not that he had any worries he couldn’t take on the pack, but he’d had his fill of Ethan for one night.
Hell, for one lifetime.
He settled in to wait, but at that moment, a man appeared at the edge of the trees. Caleb recognized him instantly—Tom, the pack’s second-in-command. He spoke quietly with the two weres, who nodded and melted into the forest. He’d probably sent them off to hunt before they shifted back. Feeding always made the transition easier.
Tom glanced once around the clearing, and then turned his attention to the body. He appeared relaxed, oblivious to Caleb’s presence.
Caleb pulled his gun from the holster at his shoulder and crept forward. At the last minute, Tom swung around, but it was too late. Caleb brought the pistol down sharp on his temple, and he crumpled to the ground. Holstering the gun, Caleb leaned down and checked his pulse before moving on to the body.
He’d found the source of the screams. A woman lay curled on her side, her knees drawn up to her chest, her hands tied taut behind her back, the rope looped around a fallen tree. She was dressed in jeans, boots, and a black leather jacket, her long, dark red hair loose about her face. He crouched down and touched her on the shoulder. She didn’t move, and he slid his hand up under her hair and pressed his fingers to her throat. She was alive. Beneath his fingertips, the blood pulsed steady through her vein.
Sitting back on his heels, he thought about his next move. He drew his knife from the sheath under his jacket, sliced though the ropes that tied her hands, and gently rolled her onto her back. The scent of blood was stronger now. Hot blood and warm flesh. A craving burned in his belly, but he forced himself to ignore it.
Her jacket was open, and her shirt ripped apart, revealing breasts covered by a black lace bra. For a moment, his eyes lingered on the full curves. A deep scratch marred the perfection, and he reached out and ran a finger over the soft swell of flesh. Her skin was warm, feverish. Then his gaze moved upward. She’d been bitten, her shoulder a bloody mess, and his muscles tightened as he studied the wound.
Werewolf.
Unmistakable, and he cursed Ethan again.
The wound was deep, but it was obvious they hadn’t intended to kill her, or she would be dead. He guessed they wanted to turn her, but it was unusual to turn an unwilling victim.
He had to get her out of there before the pack returned.
Stroking her long red hair away from her face, he studied her features. She appeared to be a normal human woman, maybe in her late twenties. She was beautiful, with strong bones and a wide mouth, her skin creamy, flawless, her brows dark. As he stared down at her, her lashes fluttered open, and Caleb was captured by the gaze of enormous silver eyes.
“Shit,” he muttered. Things had just gotten a whole lot worse.
The eyes were luminous, rimmed with black, and he knew in that moment that whatever else she was, human did not come into it. For long moments, she returned his stare, then panic flared, and she opened her mouth to scream. He clamped his palm over her lips, trapping the sound.
“Hush,” he murmured.
She wasn’t listening, lost in some dark world of her own, her expression wild with panic. Caleb kept one hand tight over her mouth and used the other to press her into the ground. He was strong, but she fought against him, thrashing beneath his hold. The wound at her neck opened, and the scent of fresh blood filled his nostrils.
His body responded with a sharp jolt of hunger. He didn’t want to hurt her, but they had to get out of here. He straddled her body, using his own to hold her immobile. Raising his hand, he clenched his fist, and clipped her hard across the chin. She went instantly still, her body collapsing limp to the forest floor.
For a moment, he stayed where he was, staring down at her. Then he rose to his feet, bent down, and lifted her in his arms. She was heavier than he’d imagined, but he carried her easily through the dark forest.
As he laid her on the back seat of his car, she didn’t regain consciousness. The bite on her neck was bleeding, and he went to the trunk and pulled out the first aid kit. He ripped open a pad and pressed it against the wound. After a minute, the bleeding reduced to a slow seepage, and he stepped back.
This was Ethan’s world, and Caleb wanted nothing to do with it. But what was the alternative? Leave her to Ethan’s tender mercies? That wasn’t an option.
He could take her to the nearest emergency room, but if she reacted badly to the bite, they’d have no clue what was going on, and she would die. Besides, the pack was sure to check the local hospitals.
He should have just driven away when he had the chance. But he hadn’t. Now she was his responsibility.
Shit. He hated responsibility.
