Moon Cursed (Sky Brooks Series Book 5) Read online

  If that’s how he played, he, too, like most of the were-animals, had failed Social Skills 101 and was in desperate need of remedial classes.

  “Show me what you got,” he demanded, approaching me.

  “You don’t want to warm up or take a few practice swings?”

  He shook his head. “Now you have the advantage. Let’s see what you can do, Skylar.” My name rolled off his tongue in a low purr.

  We circled each other as I tried to determine which was his dominant side, where he was most vulnerable, and which direction to lunge. He didn’t seem to give me the same regard. Amusement sparked at his lips and eyes as he watched me studying him for an advantage.

  He kept the katana at his side casually, while I held mine in a defensive stance, preparing to move in. I advanced, swinging in an arc. He blocked it quickly and turned. Once he was facing me again, I struck again. He blocked, but the amused look fell from his face as he assumed a defensive position. He moved, striking fast and sharp. I blocked, turned, and my elbow went into his back, a quick jab. I knew he felt it.

  “Impressive. I was hoping you would take that one. It was an open move. Good.” He stepped back, and there was a gentle lilt to his voice. “I suppose I don’t need to go easy on you.”

  Parry. Strike. Turns. Retreats. For several minutes the room rang with the clank of metal against metal. Sharp jabs, drops to the floor as one of us attempted to swipe the other’s leg and bring them to the ground. The smile that was frozen on his lips taunted me as warmth pricked at my skin. I could feel the perspiration, and he didn’t seem to be working very hard. It was like practicing with Sebastian, who I suspected made errors to build my confidence, allowing me to land blows or at least get the advantage.

  When he rested his sword at his side, my only goal was to get just one blow in. I advanced, strike after strike, and he blocked. With a quick change of hands and a half-arc swing, he knocked the sword out of my hand. Both of our eyes followed the sword as it fell just a few feet away.

  “Nevertheless, you are quite impressive, Skylar. Sebastian’s prodigy has definitely earned the high regard in which he holds her.”

  Really? The man who just called me a nosy, obstinate child less than an hour ago holds me in high regard? Prove it.

  After replacing the sword on the wall, he turned to me and nodded. “It has been my pleasure getting to know you.”

  If that was how he got to know people, he, like most of the were-animals, was in desperate need of a refresher on social norms and contracts. Attacking someone with a sharp weapon wasn’t a greeting.

  Cole barely acknowledged Ethan, who was standing at the door, his face threatening a scowl that he was trying hard to fight. When he addressed Cole, his voice was cool, even, and rough. “I’m glad you’ve decided to stay to offer your assistance. It’s kind of you. But, there are certain things that are off-limits to you, and we should discuss it later.”

  I stood between them as they subtly tested the boundaries of their dominance for no other reason than they were two Alphas who had a difficult time occupying the same space without challenging each other.

  Cole smile flickered and fell just for a moment into a tense line until he mastered it and forced another less genial one that bared the edges of his teeth.

  “Of course. I am your guest, and I realize there are boundaries. I have them as well in our home, and I look forward to hearing what yours are.” Then he turned his attention to me. “Thank you, Sky. It was fun playing with you.” And he started up the stairs, walking past Ethan, who kept his eyes narrowed on him and the scowl he’d denied himself now locked firmly in place.

  Ethan watched me carefully before walking past me to grab the sword that I’d lost during the sparring match. He was quiet as he replaced it on the wall.

  “Sebastian has chosen to be your instructor with the use of this type of weapon. It’s best that you continue with Sebastian or me and no others.” When he turned, the scowl had been replaced by a noncommittal smile.

  I wasn’t acquiescent by nature and bucked against commands without reason. “Is that anyone, other Alphas, or just Cole?”

  He moved closer to me, leaning down until his mouth was near my ear, and I could feel his lips moving into a smile. “For now, all listed. We’ll revisit the terms later.”

  I stepped back, increasing the distance between us. Commands just didn’t work for me. Commands from Ethan were even harder. I, too, found myself testing boundaries, not as an Alpha but in trying to find where my position was in what seemed like our pack, our union or whatever it was. And I had a burgeoning understanding of the ongoing conflict between Josh and Ethan. Josh was essentially in the Midwest Pack but often given special considerations because he wasn’t a were-animal but a blood ally. However, there were rules he had to abide by, one being that he had to respect his brother’s role as Beta of the pack, which was something that he seemed to have a difficult time with. I was experiencing the same thing, but I managed to tamp it down as much as I could. I stepped back and frowned.

  “You know you’ll get further with me if you don’t command me to do things and make them seem more like requests than commands.”

  A brow lifted and the wolfish grin settled over his features. “Fine. Sky, I request that you follow my commands.”

  You’re not the boss of me. If it wasn’t such a juvenile rebuttal, I would have said it out loud. I started to say something, and seconds later, he was next to me, pressing his fingers against my lips. He really hadn’t learned his lesson. I couldn’t count the number of times I’d bitten him for doing that, and I was considering doing it again when he removed them.

  “Please,” he blew out, rolling his eyes.

  “Doesn’t really sound like you mean it,” I offered and looked at the finger that seemed to be inching close to my lips again.

  “You’re pushing it.”

  I bit back the grin. He started up the stairs but turned back, looking over the room, unsettled. Did my sparring with Cole really bother him that much?

  “I wasn’t practicing with him. He asked to spar, so I did.”

  “Just follow my request.”

  Using request in lieu of command was that same thing.

  “How was your meeting?” I needed to change the subject and migrate away from dealing with Ethan and his commands, or strongly worded requests.

  With a dour smile, he shrugged. “It was okay. Let’s discuss it tonight at dinner.” And with that I followed him up the stairs. If dinner was when he wanted to discuss it, then that was exactly when he planned to discuss it. A lesson I’d learned from my first dealings with him.

  When I opened the door, Ethan didn’t say anything at first, instead giving my attire a long, lingering look. Loose brunette waves flowed over my curve-hugging single-strap dress just a few shades of green darker than my eyes. I’d paired it with a pair of pewter-colored shoes that reminded me of Ethan’s eyes, which was why I had chosen them over black. Ethan preferred business casual over jeans any day, and he looked amazing in tailored suits. The navy-blue suit picked up the hints of blue in his pupils that were usually drowned out by the gray of his wolf.

  “You look . . .” He stepped back and gave me a long look again. “Beautiful. Absolutely.” Then he kissed me, pressing his lips firmly against mine, and his arms wrapped around me. As the kiss deepened, I started to question whether dinner was going to happen when he pulled away and took my hand and led me out of the house.

  Although the restaurant was large, it seemed private and intimate. The room was dimly lit by recessed lights from above and small candles that decorated the tables, and whatever light managed to peek through the curtained windows from the city lights. Even the waitstaff seemed to move effortlessly through the restaurant, speaking in hushed voices and managing to blend with the music, becoming nothing more than white noise and quick tranquil sounds in the background. Despite all that, we were still ushered to the back of the restaurant, to a private section. I was aware
that from the time we’d left the house, Ethan had kept his hands pressed against me. In the car, his hand caressed my leg the entire time.

  The private area of the restaurant boasted a simple elegance. The tuxedo-style tablecloth matched the seats. Chandeliers hung from the ceiling and only offered a hint of light, just enough to keep the place from being completely dark. Instead of being accented with traditional art, the walls had a textured finish of hues of gray and white. Light music hummed in the background.

  Ethan ordered wine. As we sipped on it, the conversation didn’t evolve into anything more than mundane topics. I ordered my food similar to the way Ethan ordered his: steak—his rare, mine medium rare—potatoes and vegetables.

  “Make hers rare as well,” he said before the waiter left. And then he grinned. “And bring her a slice of red velvet cake with her salad, please.”

  “I wanted my steak medium rare.”

  Shaking his head, he quickly pointed his finger at his eye, and I knew it was his way of telling me that he could see my terait, the thing that vampires got when they were having bloodlust. Most people would have ignored the flick of orange in my eyes and considered it nothing more than an optical abnormality, but it seemed to bother Ethan. A lot. Light orange circled my pupil, a reminder that l was never just a werewolf. Perhaps I denied it too much; even when hints of it peeked through, I ignored it. Ethan was acutely aware of its existence, often noticing it before I did. Even when it was obscured by my green eyes, he still spotted it. Most of the time, I found myself looking in the mirror for several minutes, trying to get a glimpse of it when he pointed it out. Without fail, I eventually saw it.

  “Whoever started that rumor about me and dessert needs to stop,” I quipped.

  “Is it a rumor if it’s true?” he asked, his brows raised, then he smiled. The conversation remained mundane until the server dropped off the salads and my cake. Ethan pushed his salad in my direction and I moved both his and mine to the side and grabbed my fork and started on the cake. I ignored his haughty knowing smirk and busied myself with shoving a forkful of cake in my mouth, taking in the decadent flavors of cocoa sweetness and cream cheese.

  “Tell me what happened yesterday with the spell. Be specific.”

  Between bites I went into explicit detail, happy to share the burden with someone else. I told him everything, and he listened patiently as I walked him through an overly detailed description, but I wasn’t sure why I did. Maybe I felt like telling him would lift the heaviness that I’d been carrying and absolve me of the guilt that I might have somehow been an accomplice, again, to a spell that might have grave consequences. There was something disturbing about Logan’s death and my life being in a small jar in Dr. Jeremy’s lab.

  Ethan’s concern-laden gaze remained on me as I stabbed my fork into the cake and moaned.

  “Should I be worried?”

  “About what?” I asked, putting another forkful in my mouth.

  “About the cake. I think you’re cheating on me with it,” he teased.

  “Oh, I’m so cheating on you with it.” I laughed.

  “And here you wanted me to think you weren’t a ‘dessert first’ type of woman.” He leaned back in his chair. I figured at some point I’d get used to Ethan’s appearance. The defined jaw, hewn features, intense eyes and intangible ways, added to his primal allure, and intoxicating beauty. I still found myself staring and had to pull my eyes from him.

  He wasn’t at all unaware of it and grinned at my effort not to stare.

  “Back to what happened. Have you found anything that resembled the spell?”

  His next question mimicked the one I’d had when it happened. “How did you know it was Faerie language?”

  “Isn’t that what we established Maya is, and Ethos? It only makes sense that’s what she speaks,” he offered.

  It answered some questions but left so many unanswered. She had been killed as a child; how did she learn the language? I didn’t know how old she was or how many bodies she had inhabited before she’d been hosted by my mother. How many powerful supernaturals had she lived her life through, picking up spell after spell, learning dark and forbidden magic, and using languages that were no longer spoken, therefore making them difficult to translate and spells in them even harder to stop?

  “If it is, and we can’t translate it, then what?” I inquired.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Do you ever wonder what became of the other Faeries?” I asked. The deadliest and most powerful ones’ whereabouts were unknown. It seemed like that was something we should have made an effort to find out. Someone who was strong and able to invoke magic that ancient, dark, and powerful was someone whose location we really needed to have a fix on. Who were their hosts, and did they have the ability to control the powerful beings within them, unlike me? Or had they just become nothing more than shells for the spirit shades, unwilling stewards to their cause?

  Ethan considered the question and frowned. “I don’t know.” Something lingered behind his words.

  “You don’t know, or you can’t tell me?” I asked.

  The same indecipherable look remained on his face, and I tried to read through the lull, find a hint of which answer was right. He leaned forward with his fork and picked up some cake, turning it toward my mouth. I hesitated.

  “Skylar.”

  I kept my lips pressed firmly together, which only made him grin at the defiant response. Challenges didn’t bother Ethan as much as they amused him when it came to me. Probably he and I both knew, between the two of us, hands down he was the most indomitable, but we were at a stalemate. Several seconds passed and he stayed positioned with the fork turned toward me. Even when the server arrived with our food, Ethan remained across the table, waiting for me to take his offering. Sensing the waiter’s impatience, I glared at Ethan and took the food off the fork. He sat back at grinned.

  Halfway through dinner, when he finally seemed over his ill-gained victory, I asked, “What was the meeting about?”

  “We’ll discuss it when we get to your house.”

  I studied him for a moment, trying to figure out whether this was a delay tactic.

  As we continued to eat, I shot furtive glances in his direction.

  “Sky, I do wish I could be an open book for you, but I can’t,” he admitted softly.

  “You said we would discuss it,” I reminded him sternly. “I refuse to be in the dark about this.”

  “And you won’t be.” He looked around the room, and I wasn’t sure why there was a need for more privacy—there wasn’t another person within fifty feet. “But as I said, we’ll talk about it at home.”

  Once in the house, Ethan put down the cake he’d gotten from the restaurant, clasped my hand, and led me to the bedroom.

  I dug my heels in. He wasn’t going to use this as a distraction tactic. “Ethan—”

  “I’m about to show you what the meeting was about.” He led me into the bedroom. He turned on the lights, a faint smile barely curving his lips, and slowly unzipped my dress and removed it. His touch was featherlight as his fingers trailed over me, cruising gently over my shoulders, my breast, and then he kneeled down and looked at my stomach. He kissed me gently there and then stood. His touch was gentle but clinically attentive. “Ethan?”

  “Just let me finish,” he said in an even, low voice.

  Then he moved around me, just as focused, searching my body. Periodically I felt his warm lips against my skin.

  When he finished, he sighed in relief. “You aren’t marked,” he said. He looked away, and confusion and relief seemed to have equal play on his features as he allowed his stolid mask to drop.

  “Marked? What you are talking about?” My tone was rough enough to pull him out of his distraction. He removed his shirt and turned. In the middle of his left shoulder blade was a crescent moon that hadn’t been there before.

  “Most of us have them. All the Alphas and ranked were-animals, with the exception of Steven and a
few others.” Then he named several other weres that I didn’t know.

  I hesitated asking the question because I knew the answer, and hearing it out loud seemed like it would make it worse. “When did you get it?”

  “Yesterday. Cole noticed it and called Sebastian, and we spent most of the meeting trying to get a tally of who has it and who doesn’t.”

  “What does it mean?”

  He sat on the bed and rubbed his hand over the light stubble forming on his cheek and jawline. After being quiet for several minutes, he spoke, his voice gruff and weary as if he’d been over this a million times and was begrudgingly conceding. “We all believe it was just a tale. You know, one of the many tells of our being cursed, which never turn out to be anything but embellished retellings of things that never happen. I can’t even count the number of exegeses there are about our origins and whether it was a curse on humans or animals. Our existence has been attributed to everything from a nefarious spell performed by Faeries to a curse for the wrongdoing of a spirit wolf. No one knows how, but we’ve always been immune to magic. Our ability to change without the call of the moon or Mercury rising, transits of Saturn”—he stopped briefly—“or an eclipse”—the last added Winter, who from what I knew was unique, although they continued to perpetuate the notion that she wasn’t the only one for her sake—“is new.”

  He was taking time with his words, and I didn’t think it had anything to do with him withholding information. “Immunity to magic has always given us an advantage and has unsettled most.” Pushing himself to his feet, he started to pace the length of the room like an anxious caged animal, captured and confined by a situation that he had no idea how to escape.

  Inhaling a deep breath, he exhaled and continued. “No one knows how we got these marks. It could be the result of something that happened to the vampires and the Tre’ases, a curse or spell of some kind.” He gave me a look, and I knew he was referring to the spell that had removed the curses that had bound them by wards and daylight.

  I continued to stand listening to him, chills running up my arms.