The Blood Bond: The Darkmoon Saga, #2

This book is a work of fiction. Any references to real people, historical events, businesses, companies, products, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events, locales, persons living or deceased is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 J.A. Redmerski

All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole, or in part, and in any form.

In accordance with the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, the scanning, uploading, and electronic sharing of any part of this book without prior written permission is unlawful piracy and theft of the author’s intellectual property.

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Cover design and interior by Lonely Raven Studios | J.A. Redmerski

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ISBN: 9798722810700

J.A. Redmerski | THE BLOOD BOND

Fiction – Young Adult Contemporary Fantasy

CONTENTS

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

21

22

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24

25

26

27

28

29

30

31

32

1

Three Months Ago - March

I ran until my feet bled, until I could no longer feel the pain of every searing cut and nerve-ending exposed to debris and freezing snow that burned like fire. My ankles were mottled by blood and dirt and bruises. My breath, so heavy it weighed more than my chest could carry, sputtered from my lips in a pathetic, asphyxiating mess, bringing me to my knees a second time.

No. I can’t stop running.

I had to become something I wasn’t, as fearless and dangerous and powerful as the beast chasing me. I had to believe that I could go on because if I didn’t, I’d die here tonight. In these woods. Under the cruel array of stars and planets and dark matter that watched the scene unfold and did nothing to stop it.

The trees snapped like bone behind me in the darkness. A chilling roar ripped through the air, and my heart stopped. I could picture blood dripping from its teeth; its back arched in a way that terrified me, blade-like claws ready to strike me down like a massive bear tearing down its prey.

Only this werewolf was more massive than any bear.

I hurled myself forward, pushing my body against the wind, and I ran. My eyes had become attuned to the darkness. I could see out ahead of me with finer precision. But how? How could I know this forest so intimately, as if I had lived here all my life? How could I judge these distances, evading the black canopy of trees and the dead branches beneath them so obscured by the magic white dust?

It didn’t matter how at that moment—I had to keep running.

The beast was getting closer. It could’ve had me by now. The werewolf could’ve taken me down before I crossed the creek minutes ago, over the half-frozen water that took my feet out from under me. I heard it breathing behind the trees in the darkness as I laid on the frigid, wet bank. I could smell the musky, damp hair. I could feel its gaze on me, hungry for my flesh and blood. But it let me go; it allowed me to pick myself up just when I had given up and had no intention to push on.

It was toying with me.

And I kept running. Because at some point, after you’ve surpassed surrender and are still alive, the human body becomes something else. Maybe it’s adrenaline, or perhaps some enigmatic love for life, I didn’t know. But I felt different. Stronger. Faster. Formidable. You forget that your lungs have stopped working, that your stomach is filled with ice and heat and mush, that your heart threatens to burst.

I ran out into a massive field encircled by trees. The air was colder here, having no obstacles to maneuver around, nothing to stop the gusts from pushing against my body, threatening to kill me with hypothermia.

I sucked in a quick breath, and it burned my lungs like fire.

I saw a horse out ahead, its hot breath exhaling like thick streams of fog from its nostrils. I looked farther into the fringes of the trees and saw two more horses not so far from the first, concealed by the shadows.

And then I stopped.

I stopped because I realized I’d been here before. I looked all around me, grasping every detail as if each was a piece of some significant puzzle. The forest surrounded me in a tree-enveloped circle where I stood in the center feeling trapped, like a gladiator in an arena. At any moment, the beast would rip through the trees on either side of me, and I would have nothing to hide behind. My back was hunched over in some laughable attempt at a battle-ready stance. I moved around in a circle; arms level with my ribs, my head moving in jerking motions at every sound no matter how moderate or faint or real they might’ve been.

My heart stopped, and so did the world around me when a low, gruff howl reverberated through the black trees to my left. The horses snorted first and then squealed and sprinted away.

I heard nothing now but the sound of its breath and the low, guttural movement vibrating its massive chest. I couldn’t see anything but its eyes staring back at me, flecked by the moonlight. Its breath was thick and measured.

Finally, I could feel how exhausted my lungs had become and how cold and hot and heavy my stomach. I could feel my heartbeat sputtering to a slow crawl, clamoring for some sense of normalcy but never finding it.

My breath came out in a long draw, and my body stood upright of its own accord. My hands carefully dropped to my sides, fingers curled near my palms.

The beast stepped out from the trees, revealing its colossal size I had always feared and loved just the same. I thought I could feel the earth beneath me rumble gently as he approached, but I knew it must’ve been my mind playing tricks on me because his steps were too soft and calculated to create such force. The seconds which passed between us lingered ominously, every step bringing him closer, closer to my time among the stars that always had watched unbiased.

I never realized when it happened, but I noticed my hand reaching toward him, my palm tilted in a delicate gesture to which my thoughts were unaware. My icy fingers opened for him.

I could see him now as he stood in the glow of the full moon, feet from me in the wide-open field of bitter, stinging air and snow blemished by my bleeding bare feet.

He moved closer.

Closer.

In this fraction of a moment, I gasped sharply and felt a shot of blood race into my heart.

But my fingers, so persistent and independent of me, still had a mind of their own. A heart of their own. A life of their own that I couldn’t bear to struggle against.

I reached out the last few inches needed to touch him, and my hand became warm underneath his fur and his strong, thick flesh. My mind screamed at me, but my heart pushed it down into the hot mire of my trembling insides, and I remained unafraid. Ready to die. For love.

Isaac...

His chest heaved with hot breath. I could feel it on my face and skin, protecting me from the stinging wind. The blood I imagined on his sharp, massive teeth was not there, but I knew it would be soon. I always knew that my love for Isaac Mayfair would one day be the death of me.

I always knew...

Softly, I closed my eyes.

But instead of death, I felt...safe.

His mammoth chest still heaved with breath. His large inky-black eyes, glazed over by moisture and rage and conflict, bored into mine.

I’d never been this close before. Not like this. One movement out of place, a single cell in my body, triggered by fear, and Isaac would sense it. In a split second, his bite could take off my head.

Isaac...Listen to my words. Both of my hands took his much larger hand and guided it slowly toward my heart.

No, I’d never been this close before. Not like this, so bold and stupid and reckless. Not when he has Turned against his will. When he was unprepared. When I provoked him...

One movement out of place...a single cell triggered by fear, and it would all be over.

Another deep growl reverberated through his chest, and the air around his snout became visible and hot. With his beastly hand resting against my heart, I closed my eyes and rested my head in the bend of his arm. I inched closer, allowing his warmth to envelop my much-smaller frame. His heart beat rapidly, but he was calm. For now.

It’s Adria. Isaac, it’s me.

I lifted my head from his body. He leaned over me, nudging his head against mine in a display of affection.

But the moon’s sway on this night was more powerful than mine, and Isaac turned quickly and ripped away through the field, leaving me standing here. A part of me was relieved, thankful that I could breathe again, but the larger part was ashamed.

Months from now, maybe even years, I knew Isaac would never let me forget it.

2

Today – June

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Excitement kicked in when Aunt Beverlee’s car came up the driveway. I could tell when she went over the pothole at the mailbox as the bumper scraped the ground like a boat hitting land.

Roughly a minute and a half more, and Uncle Carl would finally be home after the attack and car wreck that nearly killed him seven months ago.

He was out of the hospital in about fifteen weeks—almost lost one leg, had four surgeries, and his lung collapsed a second time—but he and Beverlee had been staying in a hotel some of the time and at one of Aunt Bev’s scrapbooking friend’s house, the rest. It was difficult to find a decent carpenter to come out and build a wheelchair ramp in sixty inches of snow and at a reasonable price. Okay, so sixty inches was exaggerating, but I’d felt like I’d been living in Antarctica since winter officially began in Maine. I was almost as happy about summer’s arrival as I was about Carl’s homecoming.

Isaac and Nathan ended up with the carpenter’s job and built the ramp for free. They would’ve built it sooner, but Aunt Bev only let it slip last month that it was the reason Uncle Carl hadn’t come home yet. Later, she admitted she never wanted to bother the Mayfairs with favors.

We let her know how ridiculous that was.

They’re here, said Isaac, reaching above the banister to tie the last loose end of the WELCOME HOME sign I had made.

We practically lived together now, Isaac and me, though not technically because Beverlee and Carl would never allow it in a million years. But it was no secret that I often slept over at Zia’s for reasons other than Zia. Beverlee and Carl only pretended to be oblivious. I’d be eighteen in three months after all.

After last November, when Isaac rescued me from Viktor Vargas, he told me he could trust himself around me. He said that he knew he could never hurt me. I wanted to trust him, but the truth was that I’d been afraid of the sexual aspect of our relationship all along. He was a werewolf! I thought fearing him was justified.

I didn’t want to end up in the same predicament as Zia and Sebastian.

Isaac wasn’t afraid at all anymore, but he had just one rule:

In the week before each full moon, he said that night we talked about it, never give in to my advances. I’m different in that time, more open—my judgment is off.

I laughed a little. What, like you’ve had too much vodka or something?

He was not amused. "Just remember that on the day of the full moon, never, ever test the boundaries. I know I could never hurt you, but..."

I never intended to test those boundaries, but I planned a night with him that I wanted to be perfect. Of course, things rarely turn out the way you plan them. It was an innocent mistake on my part, but what happened left me running through the woods trying to get away from his monstrous form. That was three months ago.

He didn’t hurt me. But he could have.

I just didn’t understand why he was so confident every other day of the year. The way I saw it, as long as I was human, he’d always be a danger to me.

Wait, it’s going to fall, I said, pointing to the banner. Pull it tighter—there, yeah, see how loose it is?

A little to the left? Isaac mocked, grinning. A little to the right?

I stuck my tongue out at him.

Better be careful with that thing, he joked.

One car door shut. It would be a couple of minutes more as Beverlee helped Carl into his wheelchair. I scanned the den and the kitchen one last time, checking to see if everything was in place. His favorite chair I was sure to vacuum with the hose and fluff up the arm pillows and giant ottoman. Next to it on the inn table was a mug of hot coffee and all three remote controls lined neatly in arm’s reach. A stack of new science and technology magazines waited for him too—he loved those more than the coffee.

Nathan came out of the guest restroom drying his hands on his pant legs. Harry ran in through the back door and skidded into the kitchen, Daisy behind him, barely holding onto the tip of his fingers.

Daisy reminded me of expensive perfumed body powder, the kind that sits in a little round, gold-trimmed container on the vanity of a wealthy young London girl. Except when she wasn’t a total tomboy, of course.

He’s coming up the ramp now, said Harry.

It was a small gathering. Zia and Sebastian were at a concert in Boston and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night. Uncle Carl’s friends from work were stopping by later in the evening after he settled in. But small was how Carl would prefer it.

Okay, I said as I heard their voices coming onto the porch. I ran into the foyer with seconds to spare and moved the coat rack out of the way, pushing it into the corner. Make sure everything is moved so Carl’s wheelchair can easily get around it. That had been Beverlee’s number one demand for a week. Carl was having difficulty adjusting to his disability, and Beverlee wanted to eliminate whatever possible that helped remind him of it.

The doctors still weren’t sure if he would ever walk again.

The whole house smelled like a bakery. A plate of chocolate chip cookies was laid out on the kitchen bar. I saw that tip on HGTV once when Beverlee had it on. Fresh baked cookies made a house smell inviting, so I thought, why not?

Don’t even think about it, Daisy demanded as Harry reached to take a cookie from the plate.

Shadows moved in front of the door, and finally, it opened.

Welcome home! everyone shouted.

Uncle Carl smiled squeamishly.

Thanks, guys, he said as Aunt Bev wheeled him in the rest of the way. He reached down and took control of the wheels himself, giving them a push. Wow, the house looks nice, Adria, he said. Smells nice too.

Thanks.

Harry took the plate from the bar and balanced it on his fingertips like a waiter. They’re fresh, he said, putting them into Carl’s reach.

Thank you, but I’ll have one later—stopped and had lunch before we got here. I’m stuffed.

Harry took that as the OK to finally get a cookie for himself. Daisy smirked as he stuffed one into his mouth. Harry and Daisy were already like an old married couple.

Glad you’re home, Uncle Carl. I leaned over and hugged him carefully. I was still afraid I’d hurt him.

I still blamed myself for what happened. I’d always blame myself because it was my fault.

Beverlee finally got you into that scrapbooking stuff, huh? Carl wheeled over to see my WELCOME HOME sign hanging from the banister, still not straight on one end. I glanced over at Isaac accusingly, who just shook his head at me. I guess I was being overkill about it.

No, she’s still not sold on it, Beverlee said. But she’s learned a few things. She looked up at my handiwork, beaming. I had used her fancy-edged scissors, colored paper, and some cool roller stamp things I never could remember what they were called. Arts and crafts were never my forte. Beverlee was overly kind—really, it looked second grade to me.

How are you feeling, Mr. Dawson? Daisy was always so charming. The English accent helped make her the center of the room usually. She leaned over and squeezed him tighter than I ever would.

Harry and the Mayfairs grew close to Aunt Bev and Uncle Carl over the past several months, so they were as glad to have him home as Aunt Bev and me.

Much better, Carl answered. And now that I’m back in my own house, I know things’ll be back to normal in no time.

Beverlee’s gaze strayed.

I knew what she must’ve been thinking because I was thinking the same. It would take a lot more than being home for things to be normal for Uncle Carl again. He was being strong, but on the inside, I knew he was screaming.

I moved into the den, and everyone followed.

I made you some coffee, I said, walking toward Uncle Carl’s chair. One teaspoon of sugar, just like you like it. Oh, and I bought the most recent issues—your subscriptions ran out last month, I think. I fluffed the arm pillows up some more and then scooped the new magazines into my hands. "Scientific American, Popular Science...and—I shuffled them around, absently reading the cover article titles—National Geographic. I thought Australia was already dry?" I said, looking down at the cover.

The uncomfortable silence made me look up again.

Was my guilt that obvious?

Six quiet seconds of standing there felt like forever.

Well, it’s good to have you back, Isaac said, stepping in to save me. Nathan and I are going to start repairing the barn now that it’s warming up.

Yeah, Nathan added, and filling in that chasm of a pothole by the mailbox.

Thanks, Carl said, but you don’t have to do that. The barn is beyond repair, and that pothole keeps people like Harry from driving into the house. There were a few chuckles.

We’ll do it anyway, Nathan said, beaming.

Also, Harry started work at Finch’s with Adria last Friday, Aunt Bev said. I’ve got plenty of extra help at work, so I’ll have more time around here.

Carl looked over at Harry. That’s good news, he said. At least Adria won’t be alone at the store anymore.

Carl had been worried about me being alone after what they believed happened with Alex. And it was no secret, to the town of Hallowell, that the Vargas family was bad news. And it didn’t help that the store had been left a mess the night Carl was in the accident—we had to say it had been robbed. But he and Beverlee didn’t know a thing about the real dangers. Like most of Hallowell, they had no idea the town was home to a small werewolf population and that three stood in their den at that very moment. They were oblivious about my involvement and how often I nearly died because of it. And I wanted to keep them that way.

Harry plopped down on the couch, stretching his arms across the back. Adria wouldn’t know what to do without me, he said, grinning. She makes me lift all the heavy stuff—Hey Bev, can I file some sort of harassment against her?

I snatched up a couch pillow and whapped him over the head with it.

See! Harry laughed.

Beverlee shook her head, laughing under her breath.

It was nice to see her smile for a change. Much like Carl, since the accident, she had not been the same.

When Carl moved his wheelchair against the ottoman, Beverlee maneuvered around quickly to help him. It broke my heart to see him struggle to carry the weight of his body out of the wheelchair. The muscles in his forearms hardened as he braced his hands and lifted himself out of the seat. Beverlee was behind him every step of the way.

We all pretended to be interested in anything other than Carl’s handicap.

Nathan’s vibrating cell phone saved him. He excused himself and slipped outside onto the porch.

I went to stand by Isaac at the foot of the stairs. He smiled at me with those bewitching bright brown eyes that I swore put some kind of voodoo hex on me every time I looked into them.

Hey.

Yes? he said, his mouth slowly pulling into a smile; his fingers slipped through mine.

I pulled him into the hallway, out of Carl’s view.

I’ll probably stay here tonight, I whispered.

Isaac pressed his lips to my forehead.

I know, he said. You’ll need to hang out at home more now that he’s back. And you should.

Yeah, Aunt Bev will need my help, though I get the feeling she’ll deny it.

He nodded, agreeing.

I’ll be on the porch with Nate, he said and then slipped quietly out the front door.

I still couldn’t believe he was my boyfriend. Not because he was gorgeous, but because he was a werewolf. Every night I’d lie in bed and stare across the room out the window and think of Isaac Mayfair. About the extraordinary events that unfolded seven months ago that, still to this day, I had a hard time accepting. I thought of my short life with him and couldn’t help but feel as though already it had been a lifetime. Trauma and death have a way of speeding up how life’s natural balance works. It fills in the little gaps usually reserved for more trivial things, like break-ups and the trials of trying to fit in. It speeds things up like growth and experience and love.

Maybe that and losing my sister were what forced me so quickly into Isaac’s world and his heart. Where she tore my heart to pieces, Isaac was there to put it back together again. But one thing constantly gnawed at the back of my mind about that: to love someone so profoundly means that it will hurt a thousand times more when he disappoints or leaves you.

I tried not to think about it, but it was unavoidable.

One day, Isaac Mayfair would hurt me, whether