Bound to the Moon Page 6

  “Has the doctor been in to see you again today?” I lower myself on the bed next to her cautiously so that I don’t disturb her in any way. Even though she’s recuperating at a record speed, I know her leg has stubbornly refused to heal as quickly as the rest of her body has.

  “She should be discharged in a day or two.” Simone steps in next to the bed, opposite of where I sit and keeps her gaze on me as she adds, “Dr. Phillips is impressed with her recovery. Although, he says she will have to wear the leg brace for a couple more weeks since it’s not healed all the way through yet.”

  I can sense the instant tension in the room and know what it’s due to. Even though there has been werewolf activity coming in and out of the hospital, so far, they have refrained from getting too close to Marjorie. Once she’s discharged, her pursuers might not be so considerate.

  We must find a way to keep her protected around the clock; I transmit the unvoiced message to Simone.

  The best way to do that is by keeping her with us at all times, her voice resonates in my head. Though numerous, the pack hesitates to act while we are around. We should use this to our advantage.

  Marjorie might not be very comfortable with the arrangement we’re planning without her knowledge, but little can be done about it. She faces real danger and unless backup arrives soon, we have no choice but to suffocate her with our overprotectiveness for the time being.

  Then again, in a matter of life and death there is no such thing as overprotection.

  Let’s run the idea by Marquis first, she continues.

  “What’s with the staring contest?” Marjorie asks, obviously having taken notice of the strain between us.

  Instinctively almost, my gaze falls on Marjorie. I can see she’s trying to determine what she sees going back and forth between Simone and me. She already knows that members of the same werewolf pack can communicate with each other telepathically, but I don’t think she’s completely aware of what’s transpiring between us.

  I’ll deal with Marquis. Our priority should be Marjorie so he’ll understand.

  I realize a second too late that I sound like a dictator, imposing my wishes on the rest of the family without guilt of any kind or their consideration for that matter. Maybe Alexis is right and I am hardheaded, stubborn beyond what I’m even aware of.

  I look up at Simone, fully intending to apologize but I can see she’s already moved on.

  “Josephine, could you please accompany me to the cafeteria?” Simone spares a glance over my left shoulder where I know Josephine is quietly standing. “I haven’t eaten in a while and I’m famished.”

  “Sure, I could use a hot cup of coffee,” Josephine replies. I can sense there’s more to their excuse to step out but I decide not to question it. If it has anything to do with me, I’ll find out sooner or later. My family isn’t exactly shy about communicating their list of concerns.

  Simone saunters over to the bed, and squeezes Marjorie’s hand with affection. I watch the interaction between our Matron and the newest member of our pack with a mixture of emotions. Although my family has known Marjorie for a short period of time, they have formed a bond with her that goes beyond mere acceptance.

  They genuinely like her. Some more than others.

  “I’ll be right back. I’m going to grab a bite to eat,” Simone states softly. “Now that Kyran is here I feel more comfortable stepping out.”

  Marjorie nods, but her expression is confused. She knows something is not quite right with us but she won’t bug my family members for answers. That job befalls me.

  “Let’s go, Gage,” Josephine ushers our older brother out the door and Simone soon follows. The door closes with a click and we’re momentarily left alone. Or as alone as we’re allowed to be anyway. I know Gage is standing on the other side of the door, making sure he’s within shouting distance in case I do take a turn for the worse. The sound of his beating heart is as clear as the noise from the television set hanging on the wall to my right.

  “The tension in this room is exaggerated.” Marjorie’s voice draws my attention back to her. “Why are you all so tense?”

  I wish I could find it in me to lie, but that will do her no good. We’ve lied enough as it is already. Eventually, I will have to face her and tell her the truth of what brought us to Wolf Creek Hollow. I’ll have to discuss secrets that will challenge her imagination, but right now the only thing I have to do is calm her fears as best as I can. Considering I only have bad news to give her, that cause is pretty much lost.

  “We haven’t been able to pinpoint the alpha’s location,” I admit with gravity I feel deep down in my bones. “The gap just keeps getting bigger and bigger. He’s elusive, smart, and has a small army of betas doing his bidding.”

  Marjorie tries to hide her disappointment, but I can see it written on her face nonetheless. She’s quiet for a moment. Her gaze focuses on the navy blue leg brace strapped to her lower limb. I want to know what she’s thinking, but because she hasn’t, technically, joined the pack her thoughts are still her own.

  Even so, I’m more nervous of what’s going on in her head than I am worried.

  “I don’t want to do this, Kyran,” she says at last.

  I stiffen. The sound of her voice is less than reassuring. “Don’t want to do what?”

  “I can’t hold your family back from having a normal life. Ever since you moved here, all you’ve had time to do is protect me. You look exhausted.”

  My stomach feels as if it’s been tied in a knot. She is the reason we came to this small town out in the middle of nowhere.

  “We don’t tire as easily as you,” I deliberately change the topic of conversation.

  “That’s not what I mean.” Her fingers curl tightly around my own. “You look deflated. Pressured. Overworked.”

  I deny her observation with a shake of my head. “My state has nothing to do with you.” Not in the way she thinks at least. Protecting her is not what’s getting to me. Not having answers, not being able to have a foolproof plan because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with—that’s what has me drained. I’m on the verge of losing it.

  If I add my physical limitations, then I guess I’m not up to par with my enemies either. They’ve probably learned how to control their bloodlust so it doesn’t put limits on what they can or cannot do as opposed to me, who has never been able to fight back or learn how to stop the bloodlust.

  “We may not know who this alpha is, but pretty soon we’ll have others aiding in our search for him,” I offer, hoping to ease her worries.

  Marjorie leans against the bed. She looks tired herself. I know the past week hasn’t been easy on her. She’s had many things plaguing her and she’ll have many more from this day forth. I’m trying my best to put her emotions first. I don’t want her to be overwhelmed.

  Under the current circumstances, that’s nearly impossible.

  “You sent for backup?” she pries. She’s not really looking at me anymore, but I can sense her growing anxiety.

  I inch closer to her until our shoulders touch, wishing that my proximity will calm her nerves somewhat. I’m in need of closeness between us too and I secretly hope she feels the same way. Our faces come within inches of each other’s and I’m suddenly tempted to move in and kiss her. I know I shouldn’t. Not after showing symptoms of yet another relapse, but I’ve never been able to resist Marjorie.

  She has been my one true weakness since day one. I tried to stay away. I tried to fight off the attraction, but that didn’t work out so well. I don’t want to anymore anyway.

  In some cases, giving in is so much easier than fighting back.

  “Marquis called a few family members and longtime friends. Lone wolves mostly,” I explain, but I’m not even a hundred percent sure I’m making any sense. My eyes have zeroed in on Marjorie’s lips and I think I might just kiss her. I want to. And I know she wants it too.

  I can hear the blood rushing through her body. I can see the rapid puls
e of the vein in her neck, which indicates a physical response to whatever is going through her head.

  “You know...we rarely have these moments alone. We should really take advantage of them when they do present themselves.”

  I smile. Her logic is irrefutable and hard to argue with, but she doesn’t know what happened a little while ago. She has no idea how severe this relapse was. Even I don’t know if I’ll take a one eighty turn any second now.

  “We’re not really alone.” I should move away, but I don’t because she’s right. We don’t have that many moments to be together without a third party keeping watch. And in the next few days, we may not have any alone moments at all.

  With this in mind, I move closer until a space of about an inch keeps our lips from making contact. “Gage is outside in the hall,” I inform her.

  Marjorie’s hand releases mine and moves up my arm to my shoulder before moving up to the side of my face where it rests on my cheek. She’s smiling, and her smile is sweet and at the same time, timid.

  “I figured that, but he’s not in the room with us.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

  I lose all sense of self-control when her smile turns wicked. She wants to be kissed and I aim to oblige.

  My lips claim hers in a heartbeat. I pull her to me and set aside all doubts and self-reservations. I only want a taste of her. Just one small, passionate taste that will occupy my memory and fill me with pleasant thoughts for days to come.

  All it takes is a brief graze of the lips and my heart feels as if it’s about to burst through my chest. An electrifying rush of emotions washes over me. I reach for the back of Marjorie’s head and draw her even closer to me as I deepen the kiss.

  Her response is encouraging.

  Marjorie’s arms wrap around my neck as she puts her focus on slipping her tongue between my lips. In an instant, our bodies are meshed together—mine pressing hers against the bed and I’m laying half on top of her. Somewhere in the back of my head, I’m still acutely aware of her delicate condition so I bear my weight on my elbows to keep from putting any amount of pressure on her body.

  The passion and desire we feel for one another gets the best of us. We hold each other and kiss as if we only have this moment. In a way, it is all we have. Tomorrow is an uncertain future for us.

  I caress the side of Marjorie’s face, gliding my fingers slowly up her cheek. Her skin is smooth, warm, and delicate. As I touch her, I can’t help but realize just how fragile she is. How susceptible to danger she is while in my presence.

  This knowledge tortures my soul—tears me up inside. No matter what happens, I can never hurt Marjorie. I can’t let her suffer because of me. Not now. Not ever.

  I force myself back and away from her, regretting it the moment I do. The distance I immediately put in between us hurts almost as much as the effects of my fight against the bloodlust.

  I feel my stomach clench at the look of disappointment on Marjorie’s face.

  “That was highly insensitive of me,” I mutter quickly.

  “Insensitive?” Marjorie asks in confusion. “I would hardly call it that.”

  “What would you call it then?” I take in her pajama-clad body; my eyes settling on the leg brace for a few seconds, and silently berate myself for my uncontrollable urges. They seem to have a mind of their own when it comes to Marjorie and I can’t forget she’s not like me. She’s human—or at least most of her is—and one wrong move on my part can cause irreparable damage. “I could have hurt you,” I add with a huff.

  “In case you don’t remember, I’m the one who suggested the kiss in the first place,” she defends with a lift of the chin. “And I’m fine.”

  “You always say that,” I whisper as my gaze swings to her face once more.

  “And you never believe me,” she retorts. “Kyran, far from hurting me you made me feel...wanted.” Her expression turns bashful. “I enjoyed kissing, hopefully, as much as you did.”

  My ragged breathing should be enough of a confirmation; however, she apparently prefers to hear me admit it aloud. “I did, but I...had...to put a stop to...” I can’t even finish the sentence I’m so mortified by how I feel—by the thoughts that consume me. What kind of relationship can I expect Marjorie to have with me when I can’t even kiss her without worrying about losing control?

  “I know,” she murmurs. Her eyes lower so that she’s not looking directly at me anymore. I can only guess what’s going on in her head. I know she’s disappointed that I cut the kiss short, but is that what’s darkened her mood? I have no way of knowing, yet I wish she’d share her thoughts with me.

  I stay seated next to her, but turn my gaze away for a moment. There’s so much I want to say, but I can’t find the right words. How can I when I don’t know what’s going to happen?

  “Could you...help me?” Marjorie straightens up and tries to adjust the multiple pillows crammed behind her by elbowing them from side to side. To no avail, the pillows go everywhere except to where she wants them so I reach over to help.

  “How do you want these?” I stand and hold on to her by the shoulders with one arm while I pull a pillow out with my free hand.

  “I need them to sit parallel to keep me from sagging too much on this bed. My back hurts when I’m sitting in an awkward position,” she explains.

  I nod and work on getting the pillows in the position she seems to favor. After a few attempts, I ask, “How about now?”

  Marjorie leans back with my help and after wiggling a bit against the pillows, she replies, “This is perfect. Thank you.”

  “Is your back not healing well?” I watch as her eyes waver. She didn’t want me to know her back was giving her problems and the stunned look on her face is a dead giveaway.

  “Dr. Phillips says it’s a miracle I didn’t fracture a vertebrae or two, but my hindquarters are pretty bruised up. I’ll be fine though so you need not worry.”

  My fists clench up automatically. The reaction is a result of the anger, frustration, and a sense of complete and utter helplessness in knowing the pain and physical discomfort she’s undergone could happen again soon.

  “Kyran.” Her voice lures me out of my angry state of mind. “Come here.” She pats the side of the bed I’d been sitting on moments before, her eyes plead with me to comply.

  I sit next to her and am rewarded by a kiss on my left cheek. Her hand travels up my back to my shoulders where they find the tips of my long locks. In a matter of seconds, her fingers are curled around my hair and her chin is resting on my shoulder.

  “How can someone so good looking be so moody?” she teases. “Would it kill you to smile once and a while?”

  I tip my head back and decide to enjoy the feel of her warm fingers massaging my skull.

  “Moodiness comes natural to me,” I say.

  “I’ve learned that the hard way.”

  Before I realize what she’s up to I feel her lips on my lower jaw. A quick peck meant as a means of comfort, but, unintentionally, it ends up doing quite the opposite. Her action elicits a very physical response from me. My body feels as if it’s just been shocked with static electricity.

  There’s really no denying our connection is strong. Powerful. Influential.

  I know part of the attraction is due to the bonding that’s going on between us and growing with each passing day. Bonding is a very serious matter for werewolves. It’s basically one of those things we can’t fight off and win. Once you’ve connected physically and emotionally to another werewolf, be it a member of your own pack or from a different group, the connection is unbreakable—destined to be sealed in the end. Only death can shatter the bond between pairs.

  Technically, Marjorie and I are not a pair yet. We’re not mates. Not in the true sense of the word, but the bond—the connection is there. When I first realized what was going on between us I denied it, fought it, pretended she had no hold on me whatsoever, but that proved futile from the start.

  I can’t deny what’s so
evidently present. Whether I want to or not. Human, or only partially human, we still don’t know for sure, Marjorie and I are bonding and will continue to bond until we mate.

  That is, if we mate at all.

  Chapter Seven

  “I wasn’t joking when I mentioned I’m the runt of the litter.” Back then, she had no idea how literal my statement was.

  “I don’t see it that way, Kyran.” Marjorie lays her head on my shoulder and sighs. “I think you’ve learned how to deal with your issues the best way you knew how. I’m not saying your way works too well for others, but it helps you.”

  I gaze down at her, but her eyes are closed. “You never thought of me as a total jerk?”

  Her lips curve upward into a smile. “Yes. Of course I did. But that didn’t stop me from liking you.”

  “You have a special interest in shady characters?” I’m curious now to hear what attracted her to me in the first place. This is a conversation we’ve never had and I intend to listen to what’s on her mind.

  “Not particularly. I usually shy away from guys who seem to have a very questionable background. But from the first moment I looked up from my book and saw you standing there, watching me, I-I don’t know...I just felt this unexplainable pull toward you. This magnetism that I couldn’t control, but found myself powerless to fight against.”

  I nod because I can identify completely with what she’s described. I felt the same way. In fact, it was her unique scent that enabled me to locate her in the first place. Once I laid eyes on her, I was pretty much screwed.

  “So now you’re stuck with me?”

  She opens her eyes and grins. “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

  “Isn’t it?” I question. Personally, a relationship with me seems like a raw deal.

  “No. It isn’t. I’m here by choice, remember?”

  I want to believe that, but I’m not sure why certain wolves bond and why others don’t. The process isn’t easy to understand and even harder to make sense of. While it’s true most pairs continue to bond even more after the actual mating act, it’s a well-known fact that pairs can mate without the bond being part of the initial reason and then bond later as they settle in their role as a couple.