Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) - By Rebecca A. Rogers Page 0,3
on the horizon, casting a bright orange-and-pink glow across the clouds.
“It’s so beautiful,” I say.
“Yeah, it is,” Ben agrees, but when I glance over, he’s not staring at the sunset. He’s staring at me. I blush and lightly punch his arm.
As darkness falls all around us, we finally breach the tree line and are out of the forest. Finally. I thought for sure we’d be stuck in there for days. I stop walking long enough to breathe the fresh air, smell the wood burning in fireplaces, and view the faint candlelight glowing from inside the sparse cottages in the area. It’s not a sight I see every day, and it’s certainly not one I’ll ever forget, especially since it’s my first night in a different century.
Yet, for as much splendor as I’ve seen today, I can’t quite shake the feeling of gloom residing over this town. There’s an ominous void hovering over the land, and I have the distinct notion Ben and I are the ones to remove whatever is causing this soul-sucking emptiness. Then again, maybe I’m losing my mind. After all, I haven’t had much sleep lately.
Just to be on the safe side, I ask Ben, “Do you feel that weird vibe this place gives off?” We scour the barn and make sure nobody is around before deciding it’s safe.
“Yeah, I feel it. What’s with that smell, too?”
“The cows?”
He rolls his eyes. “No, the other smell.”
I shake my head. “I didn’t notice.”
“Here,” he says, climbing up to the loft in our shelter, “let’s put these somewhere to snack on later, and then we’ll go check out the scent.”
We create a nest of hay for the berries, and, as promised, Ben guides me outside. He’s right—there is an odd stench.
“Magic?” I suggest.
“Maybe,” says Ben. “Could be totally different from what we’re used to.”
“Could be.”
“Want to check it out?”
Ben’s words no more leave his mouth than a harrowing wolf cry resounds in the forest beyond. The noise casts a chill over my body, and Ben and I share a glance. Can that be Alaric? What if it’s Ulric or Daciana? There’s only one way to find out.
“Hey, remember that deal I made with you earlier?” I say, as I slip out of my shirt, shoes, and jeans. Ben’s rooted in place, eyes wide and ravenous.
“Candra, are we . . .?”
I unhook my bra, shimmy out of my underwear, and toss the garments into my pile of clothes. “Going for a run? Yeah, we are.” I start forward in a sprint before Ben has time to respond. I mean, his jaw was practically on the ground a second ago.
“That’s not what I meant!” he yells, hurriedly shrugging out of his clothes.
I peek over my shoulder and shout, “Oh, that? We’ll save it for later.” An all-too-familiar tremor cycles down my spine as I sprout fur and fangs, becoming a creature of the night.
Chapter Two
We unquestionably pick up the scent of another werewolf and hear the recognizable howl, but we haven’t been able to locate the source. Our search leads us to a clearing not far from the barn we’ll be occupying. Unfortunately, by the time we arrive, our company is long gone.
Think we can still track it? I ask.
Ben looks at me from behind golden eyes. We can try. I nod. Oh, and Candra? About what happened earlier . . . Don’t pull a stunt like that again. You’re just asking for it, you know.
My lips peel back, revealing sharp teeth; it’s my only real attempt at a smile in this outward appearance. Like I said, we’ll deal with it later.
He growls and snaps once at me, a form of domination. Too bad I don’t bow down before anybody, let alone a man. I snap back at him. Our playful jesting would’ve probably continued if yet another howl hadn’t echoed through the trees. Immediately, we dart toward the sound; it’s not far ahead. Maybe this will be our chance to catch up.
The black shadow of a wolf sees us first and quickly runs toward the trees behind it, but we’re quicker, more agile. Ben is slightly bigger than me in size, so he has the advantage—and he’s not far behind the wolf. I have to admit, I’m enjoying this little hunt. It’s not every day that we get to chase an ancient werewolf, let alone one who isn’t a member of our packs.
You’ve almost got him, I say to Ben. He’s more or less nipping at the wolf’s hind legs.