Bound To Moonlight (Sisters Of The Moon #2)

Sebastian knew it, but he wouldn’t give a job to anyone else that he wouldn’t do himself. His gut clenched, but he knew Riley was right. “I’ll go see her now.”


He let himself into the room. Through the bars of the cage, he could see her where she lay on her back on the small cot, unmoving, her eyes closed, her pale face glowing with a fine sheen of sweat. Every few seconds, a tremor ran through her body.

He hurried to unlock the cage door. She didn’t open her eyes as he crossed the cell to sit on the mattress beside her. He stroked a finger down the softness of her cheek and found the skin burning hot. He laid a palm on her forehead and at his touch, she rolled onto her side, curling against him as shivers racked her body.

She burrowed her head into his thigh. He sat for a minute considering what to do. She wasn’t faking it and he didn’t think it could be anything to do with the bang to the head. Which left the pills. Was she ill?

He tapped her on the cheek. “Anya, wake up.”

She didn’t respond, and he shook her slightly. Her eyes blinked open, dazed and unfocused.

“I’m so cold,” she mumbled.

Wrapping the blanket around her, he gathered her in his arms, then picked her up and held her cradled against his chest. He kicked open the cage door and strode out.

As he passed Riley on the staircase, the other man raised an eyebrow.

“She can’t tell us anything if she’s dead,” Sebastian snapped.

“Hey, I didn’t say a word.”

Sebastian ignored the comment. “She needs a doctor. Get Connor on the phone. Tell him it’s an emergency.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, just strode past the other man, carried his burden to his own room, and laid her gently in the center of the bed. He went to the cupboard and pulled out two blankets and laid them over her, then stood looking down.

She was unconscious again. In the bright sunlight, her skin appeared even paler, tinged with the pallor of death. He swore. Pouring a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table, he sank down next to her. He pulled her up so she was leaning against the wall, then took the foil packet of pills from his pocket.

He tore one free. The tablet was small, white and bore no markings to identify what it could be. Sebastian had no clue what they were, and if they did turn out to be suicide pills, then he’d be killing her. But he sensed she was running out of time, and he suspected the pills were the only thing that might save her life. He shrugged and put his hand to her lips. They were dry now, and he slipped a finger inside and pried open her mouth.

As she started to struggle, he put his arm around her shoulders and held her tight against him. She bit down on his finger. He swore and pulled free. Her eyes were open now, dark with pain, and she twisted so she could look into his face.

“Are you torturing me?”

“Not yet.”

“I hurt. Am I dying?”

“Not if I can help it.”

She smiled then, a slight curve of her lips that didn’t banish the fear from her eyes. “I don’t think you can.”

“Sweetheart, I can do anything I want to.”

“I’m not your sweetheart. I’m not anyone’s sweetheart.” Her tone was sad and defeated. “I’m scared,” she whispered.

He had an urge to take her in his arms, hold her, tell her everything would be all right. But how could he? He’d never been any good at lying. Instead, he said, “Open your mouth.”

“What?”

“Open your mouth.”

This time she did as she was told, and Sebastian placed the pill on her tongue. He picked up the glass of water, put it to her lips, and she swallowed convulsively.

For a minute, he held her close, her cheek resting on his chest. Then he slipped his arm from her shoulder and laid her back on the bed, tucking the blankets around her.

Her eyes opened and captured him with her dark gaze. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“I’m not. I’m saving your life so you can tell me what you’ve done with my people.”

“Your people—are they wolves, like you?”

He nodded.

“What’s it like to be a wolf?”

Sebastian was silent for a minute as he thought about the question. He’d not become a werewolf from choice, and for many years he’d bitterly regretted what had been done to him. That was far in the past now, and he’d long ago accepted, and come to love what he was. He leaned back against the wall and tried to put his feelings into words. He talked of how it felt to be wolf, of the magic that bound the pack together, of racing through the forest under a full moon. Finally, he fell silent and glanced down. Anya was sleeping.

He rose to his feet and stared down at her, wondering what the hell he was doing? He’d never felt like this in his life before. All his instincts screamed at him to protect her.

Unable to leave, he dragged a chair close to the bed and settled down to watch her sleep.

A light tap sounded at the door. Sebastian glanced up, sensing the restless energy of the man waiting outside the room—it looked like the doctor had arrived.

“Come in.”