Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1) (10 page)

His good looks didn’t go unnoticed by the barista who smiled at him enthusiastically when he walked up to the counter, showing all her teeth. I thought I even saw her bat her eyes a couple of times as she suggested several pastries.

He handed me my chai latte and a blueberry muffin. “I didn’t want a muffin.”

“The barista gave it to me,” he stated, taking a seat next to me.

“I think she wants you to have her muffin, not me.” I stated, grinning as I handed it back to him.

He rolled his eyes, “What is she sixteen?” I glanced in her direction. She was at least in her early twenties and couldn’t stop looking at him. Even the two women near the door still had their attention focused on him. Okay, he was more than just attractive, but everything from the tight clench of his jaw, the sneer of his lips and his intense unwelcoming gaze screamed jackass. With that in mind, everything else seemed inconsequential.

While I checked my email, Ethan sat back on the sofa with his legs crossed. He looked bored as he read a paper someone had left behind. There were several emails from my boss, Mrs. Alexander, regarding potential assignments. She must have been flooded with new requests for her services because she rarely contacted me about assignments. I often contacted her.

I worked as a health care auditor. Companies would hire us to perform a mock audit to ensure they would pass in the event of a federal one. It was a good job for me because it allowed a level of autonomy and flexibility to work around full moons and my full moon hangovers. I was never in any given facility for more than six weeks. It was long enough to provide the human interaction I wanted and short enough to prevent developing relationships. Six weeks wasn’t enough time for people to really give a damn about me. No one cared how my weekend went, what I did the night before, or why I didn’t have any friends or lovers.

Mrs. Alexander was a nice and thoughtful person, but nosy to the point of annoyance. It wasn’t her intention. Her company was built on her ability to snoop, interpret and pry into documents for companies. Unfortunately, those qualities seemed to flood over into her personality. I kept that in mind as I carefully constructed the email. If the letter seemed too serious, I would have to worry about constant contacts from her. On the other hand, if it seemed too trivial and gave the impression I didn’t want to work, she would be offended—or worse, fire me. I kept it simple, telling her that due to a family emergency, I would be out of town for a few days. In a couple of days, I will tell her that I lost my mother. Right now, I couldn’t do it because some part of me was pretending that it wasn’t true.

After my considerable pleas, she allowed me to work as a contractor rather than a full-time employee. As full-time employees, we were required to come to the office to type reports and to assist other co-workers between assignments. The thought of spending hours a day with co-workers who were paid to investigate didn’t appeal to me. Eventually, the questions would come and I would have to quit a job that I liked.

Initially, she adamantly refused, but she soon realized that I spent most of the day in my office hiding from her and the rest of the staff. During staff meetings, I gave my best impression of a wallflower, trying to become invisible in the sea of faces. Four months, six staff meetings and two intentionally missed employee birthday celebrations later, she called me to her office to negotiate a change to contract employee status. All my work could be done from home and she would notify me of meetings I needed to attend.

Working as a contractor was ideal for her as well. I think she liked me well enough but I put her on edge. I wasn’t sure what I did that was abnormal, but her vitals always seem to quicken just a tad when I was around and the wave of uneasiness was hard to ignore. What did I do? Did I move too quickly? Did I respond to something that I shouldn’t have heard? Did my eyes go predatory wolf on the few occasions she irritated me?

I finally closed my laptop, sat back and sipped my second cup of chai tea. I savored every moment at a molasses-slow rate for Ethan’s benefit as he sat next to me, sighing and making various sounds of boredom. When he began to tap on the table next to him, I cast a dark look in his direction, which he matched, inviting me to say something cross to him.

“You need to hurry up,” he finally stated roughly. “I’m bored.”

“Well that’s something you should take up with Sebastian. I’m
not
bored and that is why I wanted to come alone.”

“That wasn’t going to happen.” He spoke to me in the same chastising manner you would use with a child after they asked to do something ridiculous.

I didn’t bother giving him the satisfaction of a dirty look. “Then it seems like you need to just grin and bear it,” I stated in a cloying voice.

He made a dark ominous sound that held a cloud of mischief. It made me look in his direction. Whatever look I held on my face amused him because he smiled. “Most people tend to want to stay on my good side. It would be good that you learn from their example.”

Do most people tend to stay on your good side because you are a jerk they would rather not deal with? Instead of expressing my curiosity and subjecting myself to a day with an irritated wolf, I nodded once in acknowledgment. His impatience didn’t make me finish my drink any faster; but my desire to antagonize him quickly disappeared.

We left the café and walked through the crowded streets of the city during the lunch hour rush. Ethan snarled and looked generally annoyed as people bumped into and scurried around him. I attempted to compensate for his crude behavior by greeting the strangers with a quick “hello” or “pardon us” as we darted between them. Ethan relentlessly swore and was an overall pain as he worked his way through the crowd. It was safe to assume that Ethan was not a people person. In fact, he seemed to have a general disdain for anything that wasn’t a were-animal.

He stayed uncomfortably close to me; so close, it was invasive.

“Would you like to put a leash on me?” I finally snapped the next time he pulled me closer to him once I gained a comfortable distance from him.

“Don’t tempt me,” he responded in my ear. Rolling my eyes, I pulled my hand out of his grip.

“Where are we going?” he asked irritated. Indiscriminately, I began to point to various stores along the strip. He looked down his nose but didn’t say anything. His face was void of any expression, which was scarier than his many looks of threat and malice.

When I went into a candle store, he could barely contain his irritation. It wasn’t easy for me either because of the strong fragrances that overwhelmed the small space but I knew it was pure hell for Ethan whose sense of smell was keener than mine. He liked making people feel uncomfortable; now it was my turn. I was being petty beyond words, yet I couldn’t muster any shame for it.

After the candle shop, we went to an arts and craft store, which held no interest for me, but it bothered him even more. I fiddled around, feigning interest in things that I otherwise would have ignored.

“You haven’t bought anything. I thought you needed to get something,” Ethan finally stated, clearly agitated for having to provide security detail on useless trip.

“No, I said I needed to go to the city,” I corrected indifferently. “I am going to check out some shops.”

He snorted. “As long as were done by four.”

“Cinderella had to be in the house by the time the clock struck twelve.”

“Cinderella wasn’t being hunted by vampires that wake at dusk.”

I continued to walk swiftly through the crowd, trying to distance myself from him but he caught up with little effort. He clutched my arm with an iron grip. “Let’s go there,” he pointed to a steakhouse across the street.

“Are you ever not hungry?” I commented. I ate a great deal for a woman my size. However, after being in the house with the were-animals, I realized that compared to them, I had the appetite of someone suffering from anorexia.

“A hungry wolf is a mean wolf.”

“Then you must have a tape worm,” I muttered under my breath as I followed him.

As soon as we walked through the door of the restaurant, we were greeted by a cute curvy woman with girlish features that didn’t fit her very grown-up appearance. Her blond hair was swept up into a twist, overly glossed heart shape lips pulled into a wide smile. Large jasper eyes with eyelashes enhanced by dark mascara looked at him with interest. She wore a uniform that clung to her, showing off her assets a little too well. Ethan took notice and returned her overly enthusiastic smile. He leaned into the podium and whispered his seating preference: in the back against the wall next to the windows. I assumed it was so he could neurotically watch everyone go in and out of the restaurant. She eagerly complied.

She escorted us to our seats and stayed for a while, playing the guessing game with Ethan as she tried to determine where she knew him from. As she blatantly disregarded my presence, I dismissed the urge to point out the lack of originality in her pick up line. After ten minutes of incorrect guesses, she finally determined that she recognized him from her gym.

Really? You’ve determined the attractive muscular guy goes to your gym. That’s what you’re going with? I sighed loudly. She looked over, rolled her eyes and sauntered away to actually work.

“I’m sorry, would you like me to leave so you can continue this inane flirting?” I asked once she was no longer in ear shot.

“No, I’m done, but thank you for the offer. I wish you could be this considerate most of the time. It would make being around you much easier,” he responded in a smooth callous tone.

I was a quick study and knew that verbal fencing with Ethan would lead to nothing more than me becoming incredibly angry. Instead, I continued to stare at my menu in great detail.

When the waitress finally arrived, I had changed my order in my head four times. I decided on grilled chicken, mashed potatoes and salad. Ethan ordered two New York Strip steaks prepared blood rare and a loaded baked potato.

“What’s with you, chicken and salad?” he scoffed disgustedly once the waitress left.

“What do you mean?”

“You ordered chicken and salad, like a typical woman,” he accused, irritated.

“I am a typical woman.”

“No. You are not. You are a werewolf.” His reproaching gaze lingered over my face.

“What would you have me do? Ask them to point me to the nearest pasture where I can find a grazing cow that I can attack and devour for lunch while you watch?”

“No, you can order real meat and have it prepared in a manner that’s most appealing to your animal.”

“I’m forced to be a wolf one night a month. I am woman for the rest of the time,” I responded defensively.

“The wolf is always there. The fact that you can hear the woman at the next table questioning her husband about his so-called business trip without trying to eavesdrop demonstrates that you are not just some woman. Or the fact, that if necessary you could take down most of the people in this room, even with your limited fighting skills, demonstrates that you’re not just some woman. It’s your wolf that makes those things possible. You may sit here and pretend to be just a typical pretty woman but you’re a wolf all the time. You may have chosen the human part of you but that won’t stifle the wolf or make it go away, even if it is only allowed to take physical form during full moons,” he asserted.

He was giving me his dominance stare again. I made a futile attempt to challenge him before looking down at my hand on the table. “And that’s your wolf as well,” he said. “You may not be part of our pack but your wolf understands pack structure and knows its place.”

I didn’t want to admit it, but he was right. No matter how I ignored it or fought it—I was a werewolf and could never be wholly human.

“Once you truly accept the wolf then you will see the beauty in it. Instead of running, learn to appreciate the enhanced abilities, strength and senses.”

What was he, the poster boy for were-animals? “When did you first change?”

“Eight.”

“How did you deal with changing so young?”

“There wasn’t anything to deal with. My father was a wolf and I couldn’t wait until my wolf matured to change. I had the strength, speed and senses early on but it was the actual physical transformation that took so long.”

I stared at him surprised. Did he look at what we were as a gift? Well, if this were a gift, what line do I need to stand in to make my return?