Blood on the Moon

Asher

I sit in the bedroom, an open book on my lap that I’m not reading. I can’t focus on the words, as thrilling as the previous pages have been.

My mind is elsewhere.

“So you just walked in?” I ask, my eyes open, feeling a little wobbly from all the wine. I don’t usually drink, Genevive doesn’t allow me, so my tolerance has dropped considerably since I started drinking at fifteen. If my mom asked, I'd say I had my first sip at eighteen, but that’s actually when I stopped because of Gen.

Figures.

“Yeah! You’d think they’d have better security, but nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ as she smiles, her lipstick smeared on the rim of her wineglass but still in pristine condition on her thick lips.

“What did you do while you were there?” I ask.

“Danced, drank, talked. The River Run folks are pretty cool; I had a great time with this witch that lives with their pack, Adelaide. She’s about our age, a cool girl. First and only time I met her, though.”

“Interesting. I’ve never met anyone from River Run. Not even Alpha Evander,” I reply, rolling my eyes.

She smiles faintly.

“What?” I ask, flashing my own smile.

“Nothing,” she says. “I just hate to see you frown and want to make you smile.”

“That’s awfully kind.”

“It’s not totally altruistic,” she teases. “Your dimples are to die for. Oh, wait, I’m already dead!”

I laugh, throwing my head back. My belly hurts from all the laughing we’ve been doing. Telling stories, cracking jokes, getting deep. I’ve mostly shared funny childhood memories with my many siblings, but she’s glossed over her childhood and stuck with her post-bite life. I can’t blame her; I’m avoiding discussing that part of my life with her.

“What’s your wolf’s name?” She asks.

“Cato.”

“You know, that name comes from the Latin word ‘catus,’” she says, finishing the last of the wine in her glass, the bottle empty. “Means wise and intelligent.”

“Ha!” I laugh. Isn’t that a treat.

“Do you not believe it?”

“I don’t think you’re lying,” I reply, shaking my head. “But I don’t think my wolf is all that wise.”

“What makes you say that?”

I freeze, biting my lip. I shouldn’t have let my guard down as much as I have with her already. Who knows what she wants?

Genevive would-

“You want to know what I think?” Rose asks as she stands, the fabric of her dress bunched up to her mid-thigh. My breath quivers as she saunters behind me, resting her hands on my shoulders.

She digs into the muscles with her thumbs, rubbing them tenderly as I relax under her touch, and she says, “I think you’re a capable leader with a great head on his shoulders. Who shouldn’t need to hear someone else say that to believe it about himself.”

“I-”

“Shh,” she coos, lowering her head so that her lips are next to my ear. “You were about to argue with me, weren’t you?”

“I just don’t think you know me well enough yet to draw those conclusions.”

“Do you think your conclusions about me are wrong?” She asks. “I bet I could guess what they are.”

“Asher!” Genevieve sings as she enters the room, her eyes bright as my cheeks as I sit up, the tension in my pants hard to ignore.

How long have I been thinking about my conversation with Rose? Has Gen been trying to get my attention?

“Hey, babe,” I greet, hoping she only walked in the room just now.

“How was your meeting?” She asks, crawling onto the bed, straddling my waist, her eyes widening as she settles herself over my crotch. “Thinking about me?”

My cheeks flush as she rakes her hands down my chest. “So, spill. How did the meeting do?”

I gulp.

“You can go home and tell her the truth.”

Part of me wants to. Rub in her face how much Rose liked me.

But when her eyes glow, and they will…

“Or you can lie to her and say you screamed at me. Tell her every little thing she wants to hear. I won’t take it personally, especially if you need to lie for your survival.”

“I did exactly as you asked,” I answer. “Told her to shove her treaty up her ass and to stop bothering us, or we’ll be happy to start a war.”

Genevieve giggles, peeling her shirt over her head. “Well, that is something to celebrate.”

She attaches her lips to my neck, kissing down the delicate skin as she palms me over my pants, and I groan.

“There was one night when I was about ten,” I tell Rose, the bottle still half-full. “My sister and I both liked playing with this train engine set. We didn’t have many toys as a kid because my family was poor, but my parents would take things from their friends that their kids didn’t want anymore and give them to us. Not that we minded; we were just happy to have something.”

“Oh, I know that feeling,” Rose adds. “Except, I didn’t have siblings growing up. Now that I’m hearing about yours, though, I wish I had.”

“Maybe not after I finish this story,” I joke. “Because my sister and I are awful at sharing. And we’d fight each other like crazy if we both wanted to play with the same toy. I’m talking pulling hair, biting, and beating the absolute shit out of each other. We were both young then, so our constant fighting stopped once I got bigger and could really hurt her. But, at this time, she was bigger and a lot stronger than me, so I got the short end of that stick.”

“So what happened?” Rose asks, leaning in, looking like she’d do anything to hear what I have to say next. Like she’s enthralled by me.

“So, my mom kept a vase in the living room with my grandma’s ashes-”

“No!” Rose gasps, covering her mouth. “Is this going where I think it is?”

I struggle to hold back my laughter as I continue, “When we were fighting on the ground, we knocked into the table, sending the ashes tumbling down, and the vase broke. So now Grandma is all over the floor, and she and I freeze. Deer in headlights.”

“Oh my God, I’m surprised your mom didn’t kill you!”

“She doesn’t know!” I reply. “The kicker is, my dad came home before her that day, thankfully, saw what we did, and instead of lecturing us, we all got to work meticulously gluing the urn back together and sweeping up the ashes to put them back inside once it was done drying. We finished literally three minutes before my mom came back home, and she still doesn’t know the vase was ever broken to this day because we did such a good job of putting it back together.”

“And what did your dad do?” She asks.

“Oh, he took my sister and me outside and made us dig a patch of land together. It was for a garden for mom that he was going to put together, but he figured working together on some manual labor would set us straight, and it did. At least, maybe. The trauma of seeing our dead grandma on the living room floor was probably enough, though.”

Rose giggles; her laugh is carefree and sweet like spring. It unlocks something deep within me, something primal. A protective instinct comes to life after being awoken by her innocent charm, but there’s something else. Something so sexy and forbidden about her, enigmatic, even: like a moth to a flame, the burning death is so sweet despite the pain I know it’ll bring.

“Yeah, I’m not very good at sharing, either,” Rose replies, looking at me from under her dark lashes. “But I haven’t faced those kinds of consequences yet.”

“No?” I ask, something coming over me that I can’t quite control. “That just with toys or other things as well?”

“My kills,” she adds, crossing her legs tighter, my nose itching when the faint scent of her arousal floats through the air. “My men.”

I look above me, Genevieve bouncing up and down as my hands grip her thighs, her head thrown back as she moans.

I bite my lip, letting my imagination wander as I turn Genevive’s short bleach-blonde hair into long gold ringlets. Her skin becomes paler, her lips red as blood.

I reach my hand up, grabbing her neck, growling as I flip us over, devouring her lips hungrily.

I fight every urge to say Rose’s name, enough of my sense of reality still intact to know this isn’t really Rose. But I’ll let the rest of me believe it is.

“Asher!” She cries with a bit of surprise. I rarely take this much control in the bedroom since she prefers I don’t. But it seems she doesn’t mind tonight. “H-Harder!”

I oblige, digging my teeth into her shoulder as I ravage her, grunting with each powerful thrust as sweat drips down my back.

I stand by the door, my breath still shaking from the moment before, my mind in a daze.

What did I just agree to? Will Gen find out? She’ll know as soon as I walk in the door.

“I’m glad you came, Asher,” Rose tells me, her hand resting on my bicep in a way that could be platonic, but part of me hopes it’s not.

The desire growing in my belly only fills when she stands on her tiptoes, planting those red lips on my cheek.

Her skin cools my hot face, lingering for what feels like an eternity as I allow my fingers to graze her elbow, keeping her steady.

I close my eyes, savoring the feeling as my heart dances, but she pulls away all too soon.

“Have a good night, Alpha,” she says as she opens the door, watching me as I exit.

I run my hand through my hair, unable to wipe the schoolboy grin off my face.

I moan as I fill with ecstasy, my body tensing as my eyes shoot open. I float there for a moment as my muscles spasm, begging for release as I reach the pinnacle, my orgasm washing over me with sweet satisfaction as I spill into the condom; Genevieve’s high-pitched cries below me, the illusion faded.

I catch my breath, recovering from the best orgasm I’ve had in a long, long time, hoping to the Goddess that Genevive didn’t notice my wandering thoughts.

Rose

I swirl my finger around my clit, my legs spread on the bed as I lick my lips, imagining his coarse fingers running up and down my shins.

The nape of my neck is sweaty; my fingers drenched in my arousal as I masturbate with images and fantasies of Asher.

Memories, too.

I feel the tension in my core build as I close my eyes, allowing myself to revisit the moment I can’t forget, nor would I want to. The conversation we had just before he left.

I lift my head, pulling my lips away from his ear, as I continue massaging his shoulders. I can tell he’s nervous, but not because he doesn’t want this.

It’s because he does.

He tilts his head back, screwing his eyes shut as he breathes a little heavier. He’s fighting his urges, his desires, searching for self-control.

I don’t want him to fight too hard, so I drag my fingers off his body and ask, “Feel a little more relaxed now?”

He opens his eyes, glaring at me, knowing I already know the answer.

I smirk.

“What is this?” He asks, taking me by surprise.

“What is what?”

“This!” He answers, gesturing between the two of us.

“The beginning of a friendship,” I reply innocently. “We have a lot in common, and we get along.”

“But you know Genevive wouldn’t want me to be friends with you. And I doubt your vampire Beta or whatever he’s called would take too kindly to you cozying up to the Alpha of a pack you may be at war with soon.”

“Hmm,” I muse, tapping my bottom lip. “I guess this will be the last time we see each other then.”

“I don’t want that!” He says, his voice hurried and a bit desperate, his eyes wide and pleading.

“Then what do you suggest?” I ask, shrugging. “You’re right. Who knows what Genevive would do if she figured out what we discussed at this meeting since I’m almost positive you won’t tell her the truth.”

“I can’t.”

“That wasn’t meant to sound judgemental.”

“I know,” he sighs. “You’re not her.”

I throw my head back, the heat rising in my cheeks as I whine, my thighs clenching as I stroke my clit up and down, my fingers moving like walking up a staircase, my thumb moving back and forth across the root of my clit that lies under the hood.

“Fuck!” I sigh, wishing it were his hands touching me. God, how would that feel? He seems like the kind of man who would take being a satisfactory lover very seriously. I can almost see that eager-to-please look in his eyes peek up from between my legs as his warm tongue glides up my slit.

“Does this feel good?” He would ask, even though he already knows it does.

Oh, and I can practically hear myself begging him for more, getting on my knees to beg, to be specific.

His comment strikes me, but I choose not to pry.

“That leaves us in the same predicament, though,” I state, crossing my arms over my chest as I sit.

“We…” He trails off. “We could find a way around it.”

“Meet in secret, you mean?” I ask, forcing down the urge to smile at the devilish idea.

“Yeah,” he replies hesitantly. “There’s a place I know. It’s on rogue territory, but wolves rarely go there. I used to play there a lot when I was a kid. It’s an abandoned cabin, probably from an old pack whose territory lines shifted. My siblings and I fixed it up when we were teenagers, so it’s not in awful condition.”

“Would they see us, then?” I ask.

“No, they rarely go there anymore, at least from the last time I saw them.”

“When would we meet?”

“During the day,” he answers quickly.

“Because nobody would suspect that you’re meeting with a vampire in broad daylight,” I giggle. “Except for the fact that everyone, including Genevive, knows I’m a daylighter.”

“No, that’s not why,” he replies. “I figure most of your business happens at night. Genevive, however, is most busy during the day, and since she rarely gives me any tasks and doesn’t keep track of me, that’s when I could slip away.”

“And the rest of my constituents will be asleep or unable to leave their abodes,” I agree. “That would work.”

“Is that okay with you?” He asks, biting the inside of his lip.

“Of course,” I reply, almost whispering. “What’s wrong with two people with kindred spirits developing a friendship?”

“Nothing wrong with that at all.”

“No, nothing wrong with it,” I moan, my toes curling as my back arches, my forehead straining as I keep my pressure and movement on my clit consistent, gasping for breath as my orgasm erupts. My muscles slowly release as I come down from my high, the scent of fresh cum lingering in my nose, the sheets damp beneath me.

My, if this is what he can do to me when he’s not here, what would happen to me if he actually touched me?

I’d unravel.