Blood on the Moon

Rose

I scream into the chilly night air; my hands balled at my sides as I let it all out of my system. It’s not cold enough to see my breath; it’s still summer, after all, but this night feels more frigid than usual.

And on this particularly frigid night, it’s taking everything in me not to tear the forest apart limb by limb. Hell, part of me wants to stomp onto Black Opal territory and tear their home sweet home apart. Set the house on fire and watch it burn with Genevieve inside.

And, at this point, I don’t care if Asher gets hurt in the process. Nothing he does makes sense. He’s hot and cold, hot and cold, hot and fucking cold. One second, we’re laughing and smiling, and I let myself think maybe, just maybe, this will be the moment. This will be when the stars align, sparks fly, our lips touch, and the credits roll.

Am I so silly to think that we’re the main characters of this story? The viewer watches and screams at the television, “Just kiss her already!”

Or am I kidding myself? Does his story have an entirely different plot that I’m unaware of? One I’m only a guest star in? A blip for a few episodes in the ten seasons the show runs for?

All I know for sure is my heart can’t take this back and forth anymore. I need answers; I need consistency. I need to know what we are and what he wants from me. I’d rather him tell me he hates me and never wants to see me again over whatever purgatory this is.

I can at least heal from that. I’d have the opportunity to move on. But this?

How can I heal from something that hasn’t ended or begun?

But why am I giving him so much power over my emotions? I’ve allowed the ball to stay in his court, anxiously waiting for when he’ll shoot his shot, only to be disappointed each time he poises himself to take it but doesn’t.

Maybe I should rip the ball away? Kick him out? Make his choice for him?

I can’t force him to be in my life the way I’d like him to be. But I can force him out of it, whether he likes it or not.

“Fuck!” I cry, sinking to the ground, my back pressed against a tree, my head in my hands. “What is wrong with me?”

What an embarrassment. This isn’t the woman my mother raised. This isn’t the woman I want to be. She doesn’t cry over a man! What have men ever done for me? Where have my tears ever gotten me?

“Rose?”

My head snaps up, jolted with surprise and fear.

Shit, I don’t want anyone to see me like this!

“Leave me,” I command, cursing myself when my voice shakes slightly.

“Are you alright?” The voice persists, coming into view under the light of the moon.

It’s Cadmus.

Wow. Just my luck. One of the main people I absolutely would not want to see me losing my shit in the woods is exactly who found me.

“I’m fine,” I answer curtly, hoping he’ll take the hint and fuck off.

Instead, he sits next to me.

“You don’t seem fine,” he observes as if it isn’t obvious. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Oh, yes, of course, I want to talk about how I’m being strung along by a mated werewolf with a man I hardly know. And am slightly sexually attracted to.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” he says, breaking my silence. “We can just sit here if that’s what you need.”

“I don’t need anything from you,” I reply.

“Yeah, but I’m still offering,” he says with a half smile. “Wouldn’t want the rage in your eyes being directed elsewhere, would we?”

I scoff. “Guess not.”

“I’ll pray for whoever it is that is the cause of your anger. I wouldn’t want to be them.”

“How do you know it’s a person?” I ask.

He smirks. “I’ve had my heart broken before. I know the look.”

“That right?” I ask. “And who is the poor soul who broke your heart?”

“Her name was Emerald,” he answers. “She’s why I was kicked out of my last Clan and have been alone for the last couple of years.”

“What happened?” I ask, interested.

He lifts his hand, wiping the tears from my cheeks as he answers, “Oh, y’know, we were in love and all that bullshit. A guy came along, challenged the current Clan Leader, and won, so he took over. Took an interest in her, and ten years together meant nothing in about five seconds. She left me for him, and he gave me the boot.”

“Can’t blame you for being as unruly as you were when you came in, then,” I reply. “I’m sorry that happened.”

He shrugs. “It’s fine. Made me stronger and realize you can’t trust anyone. Doesn’t matter how long you’ve known them or how well. They can switch-” He snaps his fingers for emphasis. “-Just like that.”

“I know a thing or two about that.” I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Love is complicated.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he replies. “That’s why I’ve sworn the whole thing off.”

“Oh, have you?” I ask, giggling. “For the rest of eternity? Heartbreak was that bad?”

“I just don’t believe love could last an eternity. For humans and wolves, it’s easy because you’re alive for, what, eighty to a hundred years? They mate or get married between twenty and thirty years old, sometimes later. So you only have to spend, on average, sixty years with whoever you choose. Sometimes they can’t do it. And warlocks and vampires are expected to be with who they choose forever? As if that’ll ever last…” He trails off, shaking his head. “Times like those, I wish I weren’t immortal. Because life becomes heartbreak after heartbreak. You don’t get to die of old age with someone. No sitting on porches with wrinkled hands.”

“That’s a very macabre thought,” I mumble. “Part of me is still hopeful, though. Maybe it’s just about finding your soulmate? And you get more opportunities to do it. I feel sad for humans that they may go their whole short lives without ever finding their true soulmate. Guess wolves don’t have that problem.”

“Yeah, they got it the easiest,” he agrees. “And you’re young. I understand why you’re still hopeful. I’ve been around for, shit, two hundred and fifty years? And that heartbreak hurt just as fucking bad as the one I experienced when I was eighteen. It doesn’t get any easier.”

“So what do you want now?” I ask. “Going to be celibate the rest of your life?”

“Nah,” he answers, winking. “What I’d like right now is to kiss you.”

“Would you now?” I ask, the weight of my eyelids becoming a little too much to bear as his fingertips brush my cheek.

“I would,” he whispers, his breath tickling my lips. “I’d like to do a lot of things to you.”

“One thing at a time,” I quip just before his lips meet mine. This kiss is soft and sweet for a few seconds but quickly heats up.

His hand wraps gently around my neck as he scoots closer to me, his mouth moving with expertise I’ve yet to experience from a man.

While his heart may not have learned much for his age, his body sure has.

The heat rises and rises, the intensity growing between us. It’s not passion for one another; it’s clear we’re both letting emotions out that we’ve reserved for others. I can feel the pain in his kiss, and I’m sure he can feel mine. But we don’t care, and it doesn’t matter.

The instinct is primal, healing battered hearts with affection.

Before I know it, I’m straddling his waist, his hands groping my body as if his life depends on memorizing each curve. I rip his shirt off him, letting my hands roam the sharp plains of his chest, wishing it were Asher’s, but also glad that it’s not.

What an odd feeling. I wonder if he’s thinking about Emerald? Imagining my face was hers?

I wouldn’t be hurt if that were the case.

“I want you so bad,” he growls into my mouth. “I’ll fuck the living shit out of you if you let me.”

“Why would you do something like that?” I tease.

“We both need to forget, don’t we?” He asks, his eyes so intense I almost wish the emotion were directed toward me. Such fiery passion would be lovely to experience firsthand. It’s the kind of way I wish Asher would look at me.

Emerald didn’t realize what a lucky woman she was, it seems.

“What do you say?” He asks, a little breathless as he stares with swollen lips and hooded eyes.

My breath shakes.

What does one say to a proposition like this? What does a woman wholeheartedly in love do when confronted with moving on from someone who doesn’t reciprocate?

I open my mouth to speak.