Hunger Moon Rising Read online

  “Right here,” said a new voice, directly behind me. I felt hot breath on the back of my neck and screamed—I couldn't help it. I started to turn, but a large cold hand circled my arm as the speaker swept aside the black curtain and pushed me into the room.

  The tray with the open wine bottle and the three fragile glasses, which I'd had balanced on my hip the entire time, spilled forward. All three glasses hit the wood floor and shattered like crystal bombs. The heavier wine bottle begin to tip, overbalancing as I was shoved forward, and I could almost see the wine inside splashing out and drenching the already pissed-off head werewolf. But that didn't happen.

  What happened was that Savage let go of Doctor Locke's sweater and reached out to pluck the tilting wine bottle out of the air in one smooth motion. It happened so fast that my eye could scarcely follow it, but in the next second, he took a long drink from the bottle and slammed it down on the table. I had a dazed moment to wonder if Ben could move that fast before Savage dragged me back to the here and now.

  “H'lo Carl,” he said, to the man who was holding me. “How long has she been out there?”

  “Dunno. Five minutes at least. I was standing right behind her watching her watch you and the doc here. Nosy little bitch.”

  He'd been behind me all that time? I turned to look at the man who was holding me and had another moment of sickening recognition. It was the big bartender from The Cloven Hoof. The one who'd sold me my Shirley Temple and refused to give me any information about McKinsey's whereabouts.

  “Please,” I said, twisting uselessly to get free. “I didn't mean to—”

  “Didn't mean to what? Sneak in here and eavesdrop on our private conversation?” The cold light glittering in Savage's slotted eyes made my skin crawl. “What are you anyway? Some kinda private detective hired by McKinsey's old man?”

  “Whatever she is, she's been all over town askin' the same questions. Tried to pay me to talk last night in the Hoof,” Carl the bartender supplied. His grip on my arm was nearly pinching it in two. “And that's not all she's been doing.”

  “Is that right?” Savage's deep voice dripped with sarcasm.

  “I believe she is a reporter for the local paper—the Sun Times,” said Doctor Locke, who had turned around to face me. “Hello, Ms. Linden. I think I told you that you would find only grief if you continued your search for McKinsey.”

  “A reporter, huh?” Savage's face grew dark, and I could feel that same aura of tension building around him that I had felt around Ben. But his was darker somehow—like a shadow of some evil I was afraid to name, even to myself. “A dead reporter is more like it,” he said.

  “Not so fast, Thrash.” Carl held up a hand. “I told you askin' questions isn't the only thing she's good for. This little bitch and her man raised a power current like you wouldn't believe at the Hoof last night, right after he fought Dutch and forced him to change. It was like nothin' I ever felt before. I think half the bar creamed their jeans.”

  “This true? You're not just good at snooping around—you can raise power too?” Savage looked at me as though I was supposed to have any idea what he was talking about. Of course I didn't, but I was all in favor of living to snoop another day, so if he thought I had a talent he could use I was definitely willing to pretend.

  “Sure.” I shrugged as though it was no big deal. “I'm a member of the Winterhaven Coven,” I said, taking a chance.

  “Huh,” he grunted thoughtfully, then looked up at Carl. “But you say she was raising power with her man? She's no good to me if she has a recent mating mark on her.”

  Carl shrugged. “That's the thing—they raised a hell of a lot of power but they didn't even consummate. And she doesn't smell marked to me. Sniff for yourself.”

  “All right.” In a move so fast it was a blur, Savage came around the table, dropped to his knees, and stuck his face directly in my crotch.

  I pulled back my leg and kicked him as hard as I could in the face. My sensible black heel connected with the side of his nose and I heard a dull crunching sound of cartilage crumpling like an aluminum can when you step on it. It was a reflexive action, and one I might not have taken if I'd had time to think about the consequences, but it had the desired effect. Savage immediately yanked his face away from me and stood. I was sure I had caught him off guard, or I never would have gotten the kick in at all.

  There was blood streaming down the big werewolf's face. As he loomed over me, looking down from an almost two foot height difference, it occurred to me that his shoulders were almost exactly twice as broad as mine. When I was with Ben, the fact that he was so much bigger and stronger than me made me feel safe and protected. With Savage it was the exact opposite. I felt the way a mouse must feel when a snake is just about to swallow it whole—tiny, helpless, and doomed.

  As I watched, Savage's nose, which was crooked from the kick I'd delivered, straightened itself as if by magic. Then the blood flow dried up. I'd seen Ben heal in a similar manner the night before, but there was still a strangely surreal quality in watching the injured tissue repair itself.

  “You're feisty. I like that.” Savage smiled at me, but there was rage in his inhuman yellow eyes. Without warning, he drew back one ham-sized fist and back-handed me. I saw the blow coming, but I couldn't avoid it—he was too damn fast. I felt the sharp agony of my bottom lip splitting and heard the flat crack of his hand across my cheek, which immediately went numb from the stinging blow. My mouth filled with the warm, copper-salt taste of blood and my eyes watered in pain, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of seeing my fear.

  There was a high, buzzing hum in my ears and a sharp throb that promised to become a really nice bruise across my right cheekbone. I hadn't been physically assaulted since my last fight with Mitch, the one that finally made me go through with the divorce. It was painful as hell, but not as shocking as it might have been. I think once you've been hit like that, once you've experienced a truly horrible beating, a part of you is always waiting to get hit again. But I was no victim.

  I turned my head and spat blood on the floor. “If you kill me, I'm no good to you,” I said.

  Savage laughed. “That was just a love tap to keep you in your place, little girl.” He looked up at Carl. “You're right—no mating mark and I like her spirit.”

  Carl frowned. “Ya know, I didn't think about this, but she's new to the pack. Molly isn't gonna like this.”

  Savage shrugged. “Fuck Molly—she doesn't speak for the pack, I do.” He nodded at me. “She's new, but we'll have a formal claiming ceremony tonight at the Skylight and bring everybody around to the idea.” He grinned at me, showing teeth that were sharp and white and far too long. “If she's as good as you say, tomorrow night should be a Mabon to remember.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ben

  By the time I got to La Bella Luna, Dani was gone. I found the back room easily enough while pretending to get lost hunting for the bathroom, but there was nothing in it but three chairs and a half empty bottle of wine sitting on the table. Broken glass crunched underfoot, and the coppery tang of freshly spilled blood hung in the air. I lifted my head and sniffed deeply—under the blood I could smell Dani's unique scent—warm, vanilla musk with just a hint of jasmine and amber. She'd been here all right, but she wasn't here any longer and hadn't been for some time. Her sweet scent was already growing cold in the air.

  Mingled with the blood and the smell of Dani were three other masculine scent signatures. I was terribly afraid that I knew who those signatures belonged to, and one of them had to be Thrash Savage. Where had he taken her and what had he done to her? If the blood I smelled in the air was hers…I clenched my fists at my sides, my knuckles popping in rage.

  “You won't find her here,” said a voice behind me.

  I whirled to see Doctor Locke standing in the doorway, framed by the black curtain on one side and his white wolf on the other. I crossed the room in two strides and yanked him up by the front of his sweater.