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Chapter 1<\/h5>\nChapter 1<\/h5>\nI looked around the unfamiliar room, acutely aware of the light footsteps below me. This wasn\u2019t the first time I awoke in a strange place, naked and bloodstained. But it was usually in the woods with Bambi\u2019s and possibly Thumper\u2019s mutilated and half-eaten carcass lying next to me. Waking up in a stranger\u2019s house\u2014naked\u2014surrounded by a distinctive male musk was inconceivable. My life just wasn\u2019t that interesting.<\/p>\n
Each time I moved, my body ached as it pressed against the hardwood floor. I tugged the blanket closer, brushing my sweat-drenched hair away from my face, slowly came to my feet and looked around the meticulously neat room. The king-size bed across from me was covered by a henna-colored, paisley-patterned duvet that looked like it had never been used. Dark mahogany nightstands were placed on each side of it, meticulously aligned with the headboard. Even the bronze gourd lamps on the nightstands were perfectly centered. The room looked like a hotel room, but I had a feeling I wasn\u2019t in one.<\/p>\n
Where am I? <\/em><\/p>\n I took a quick look at my reflection in the cheval mirror across from me: my hair was disheveled, a long scratch ran along my right arm, and plum-colored marks in the late stages of healing covered my shoulders and arms. Handprint-shaped bruises wrapped around my calves. I wasn\u2019t sure which was worse\u2014the way I looked or the way I felt.<\/p>\n The scent of blood and spiced musk inundated and lingered in the large space. The walls were solid and reinforced. They would be damn hard to break through without tools. When the double-paned security windows opened with ease, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was on the second floor. No problem. I had jumped from higher.<\/p>\n Taking a seat on the small accent chair in front of the writing table, I looked through the drawers before delivering the same treatment to the dresser, nightstands, and walk-in closet. With the exception of the hangers I found in the closet, everything was completely empty.<\/p>\n I looked out the window. It was late afternoon and the sun would set in a couple of hours. I was surrounded by nearly twenty acres of dense woodland. I assumed I was still in Illinois but for all I knew, I could be in any of the other flat states surrounding it.<\/p>\n Every visible area was covered by large masses of trees. There wasn\u2019t a neighbor in sight. If I screamed, it would go unheard. How far would I need to go before I would run into someone?<\/p>\n I was about to find out. I quickly braided my hair and tucked it into a bun, then I tightened the blanket around me.<\/p>\n Before I could do anything, I heard light footsteps approaching. I wondered if I should stay in the room or wait to see who was coming. I opened the door. It was so thick and heavy it was an effort to open it. That must have been to block out sound. I really wanted to escape.<\/p>\n I poked my head out and saw him. I could never forget that tense, harsh grimace and his predacious movements. Forced to the surface was the memory of him standing in my living room covered in blood, four bodies lying at his feet. He had killed them so effortlessly and brutally that my only instinct now was to run.<\/p>\n I considered securing myself in the room, but it locked from the other side. Instead, I darted out the room and down the hall, running past an oddly placed console and sprinting toward the stairs, nearly hitting the rail as the hall came to a dead end. Taking a sharp right turn, I kept running, barely holding on to the blanket. Saving my life trumped Midwestern modesty.<\/p>\n \u201cSkylar!\u201d His voice was like sandpaper. I continued to run, lunging for the stairs in a frantic rush. But I didn\u2019t make it before a firm grasp yanked at the blanket, pulling me back. Crashing to the floor, I skidded backwards and slammed against the wall. When he reached for my leg, I kicked him. Spinning on my butt, I kicked him again. My legs thrashed out, trying to keep him at bay. It was the same way they showed me in my self-defense class.<\/p>\n Nothing seemed to deter him.<\/p>\n His cruel gaze and vicious movements made his declaration that he wasn\u2019t going to hurt me hard to believe. Werewolf strength gave me a physical advantage most of the time, but he had my five-eight frame by at least four inches. His lean, sinewy muscles flexed and tightened, holding exceptional power. With one swift movement, he grabbed my legs, immobilizing me, and pulled me into his arms. I was bundled so tightly that the only thing I could move was my head. His movements were so efficient and precise it was obvious he\u2019d done this before\u2014many times before.<\/p>\n I clawed at his hands. When his hold didn\u2019t give, I bit down into his shoulder, grabbing more t-shirt than skin. I stayed clamped to whatever skin I had, doing whatever it took to keep him from taking me back to that lockable room. Steel-like corded muscles flexed and distended, making it difficult to keep a firm hold. The unforgiving muscles fatigued my jaw and made my teeth ache, but I hung on.<\/p>\n Pounding down the hall, he seemed unaffected by my teeth embedded in his arm. He tossed me back in the room. When I wouldn\u2019t stop screaming, he leaned over me. \u201cShut up!\u201d<\/p>\n I couldn\u2019t. Yelling at the top of my lungs, I hoped someone, anyone, would help. I needed to be heard, to stop him before he did to me what I had seen him do to those four other people.<\/p>\n He used one hand to cover my mouth and nose. His other hand snapped around my wrists, cuffing them over my head. \u201cStop it. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have. And you\u2019ve given me more than enough reasons to do so.\u201d His fingers scorched against my skin as sharp, angry eyes demanded silence. Silence that didn\u2019t come easily but instead was whittled into a whimper as I tried to grab oxygen from any space his hands would allow. As soon as I stopped struggling, he removed his hand from my face.<\/p>\n His hands moved quickly from my wrists to my face, grasping my cheeks, holding my face still. His eyes narrowed as he examined mine. Frowning, he asked, \u201cWhat\u2014what are<\/em> you?\u201d<\/p>\n What was I? He didn\u2019t know. <\/em><\/p>\n I stared at him for a long time, remaining silent, refusing to talk to the man I had watched kill so quickly and violently that it would haunt my nightmares for the rest of my life. He studied me inch by inch, crevice by crevice, imprinting my face, features, flaws, and markings to memory. \u201cWhat are you?\u201d he asked again, his curiosity belied by his aversion.<\/p>\n \u201cEthan, get off of her,\u201d commanded a firm, feminine voice from behind him. He stiffened at the sound of the calm, melodious voice. The woman\u2019s face, soft and round with small patches of freckles decorating her nose and cheeks, looked just as kind and gentle as her voice. Her deep auburn hair was pulled back into a ponytail, wisps of bangs angled across her face. Pale brown eyes cast a gentle gleam as she spoke. \u201cEthan \u2026\u201d she urged again when he didn\u2019t move.<\/p>\n He stepped back, taking a position near the door as she inched closer to me. He continued to watch me, his thin lips twisted into a sneer. The glaring way he peered at me with his gunmetal gray eyes, in an odd state between revulsion and aversion, made me feel the decision not to hurt me wasn\u2019t his own.<\/p>\n Noticing my reaction to Ethan, the woman turned to him. \u201cGive me a moment,\u201d she requested warmly. \u201cPlease,\u201d she added when he was slow to respond. He gave me another chilling look before he walked out of the room.<\/p>\n I came to my feet, securing the blanket around me, keeping my distance from her. \u201cWho are you?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n Her lips spread into a warm smile that was disarming and comforting. It was easy to imagine her standing in a classroom surrounded by small children who looked upon her dotingly.<\/p>\n \u201cMy apologies. I\u2019m Joan.\u201d She pulled up a chair from the corner of the room and placed it in front of me. \u201cPlease, have a seat.\u201d<\/p>\n I remained standing. \u201cWhere am I?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou\u2019re in a retreat home.\u201d<\/p>\n Keeping my focus on her, I stepped behind the chair, creating a barrier between us. She was very calming, parrying my skepticism, distrust, and anger with ease. Whether intentional or not, she made me feel like surrendering, like an unwary and trusting child. I didn\u2019t like that. \u201cWhat am I doing at a retreat?\u201d I asked abrasively.<\/p>\n \u201cI hoped you could tell me.\u201d She lowered herself to the edge of the bed, keeping the chair between us. \u201cSkylar, what can you tell me about last night?\u201d she asked softly.<\/p>\n The long uncomfortable silence didn\u2019t seem to bother her as she waited for me to speak. I took a seat at the head of the bed. \u201cThere was a break-in\u2014four\u2014no, five men came after us. It happened so fast, most of it\u2019s just a blur,\u201d I admitted, frustrated. I fidgeted with my braid. \u201cWe ran \u2026 two men were up there \u2026 one grabbed me, the other my mother.\u201d I stopped speaking, unable to go on.<\/p>\n The images were just erratic blurs bouncing around in my head. I didn\u2019t know what came first or what really happened. I just knew they were fast, strong and hard to evade. It was as though they had anticipated every movement I would make. Their movements were so sharp and quick, I felt as though I were shuffling about in slow motion.<\/p>\n Then Ethan appeared with a massive animal, a large coyote, maybe a wolf, and a tall, dark-haired woman. Chaos ensued. Blood and bodies moved around me so fast that I labored to stay out of the way, to avoid the gore and dismembered body parts.<\/p>\n Then everything stopped\u2014well, for me it did. The sounds of violence whirling around me\u2015bones crunching, grunts of pain, muscle and tissue ripping\u2015came to an abrupt stop. My mother lay near the stairs, motionless, covered in blood, face pallid, chest stilled. I ran to her and immediately started CPR. I continued for fifteen minutes. Ribs broke under my hands from panicked compressions and my rescue breaths were so hard, her chest distended unnaturally. It felt like I couldn\u2019t push hard enough or blow breath deep enough into her lungs. I couldn\u2019t make the life, which I refused to accept was gone, respond. Exhausted and tearful, I finally conceded and accepted the harsh truth: she was dead.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I was surrounded by three strangers covered in blood, four decapitated bodies, and my dead mother. I didn\u2019t want to be there to dwell in the intense emotions and violence. Escaping in the only way I knew, I changed. Usually I fought her presence, but now I welcomed her gratefully because standing in front of my mother\u2019s lifeless body was definitely where I didn\u2019t want to be.<\/p>\n That is how my wolf functioned. When emotions ran so high that I could barely contain them, it showed up. I was never sure if it was to protect me or to offer an escape or reprieve; nevertheless, it liked to be present when mayhem occurred. At that moment, I didn\u2019t care.<\/p>\n \u201cThey weren\u2019t men,\u201d Joan finally stated quietly. I lifted my gaze to meet hers, waiting for her to continue. \u201cThey were vampires. Skylar, why are vampires after you?\u201d<\/p>\n I had seen the onyx-colored eyes, the fangs and the pale skin, and yet I couldn\u2019t believe what she was saying. I turned into a werewolf every full moon, yet vampires still seemed to be folklore to me.<\/p>\n Taking in what she said and what I just relived, I did what all sensible people do when someone tells them something horrific, unbelievable and life-changing\u2014I ignored and avoided it.<\/p>\n \u201cDo you know what happened to my mother? Is she still at the house?\u201d I asked. My voice was hoarse and my lips trembled. The memory I had repressed so diligently surfaced with a vengeance, winding me: her lying on the floor motionless. Her pale blonde hair, which was usually pinned up, was fanned out around her face. She was frozen in a liminal state of shock and fear.<\/p>\n There was a long uncomfortable silence. Joan bit down on her lips. Troubled eyes gazed at me briefly before they lowered to the ground. \u201cThe body is downstairs.\u201d<\/p>\n The body is downstairs<\/em>. That same tight feeling that restricted my chest earlier had returned. It was debilitating. Heartbreak, it felt the way I imagined a heart attack would. You can\u2019t breathe, talk, or even think straight through the wrenching pain.<\/p>\n I pressed my eyes firmly together, forcing back tears.<\/p>\n \u201cWould you like to see her?\u201d<\/p>\n No, no, I didn\u2019t want to see her. As long as I didn\u2019t see the lifeless body, I didn\u2019t have to accept it. I didn\u2019t\u2014I wouldn\u2019t\u2014I couldn\u2019t see the body.<\/p>\n When she reached over to touch my hand, I jerked it back. Her eyes roved over the room and periodically she looked in my direction. \u201cSome of your clothes are in there,\u201d she nodded at the bag she brought in with her. \u201cYou should shower and get dressed. Maybe then you will be ready to see her.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cWhere am I, the address?\u201d I asked, peering out the window, briefly appreciating the crowning beauty of the autumn. Being around her was a hell of a lot better than Ethan, but I didn\u2019t trust her.<\/p>\n \u201cThe bathroom is over there,\u201d she said, pointing to my right.<\/p>\n \u201cThe address?\u201d I repeated impatiently.<\/p>\n Her smile deepened, revealing a small dimple at the corner of her right cheek. \u201cYou\u2019re anxious, perhaps a warm shower and food will ease you,\u201d she continued, in that soothing voice that people often used with children during their tantrums. \u201cI will be more than happy to answer your questions afterward.\u201d Her insolence was vaguely buffered by the mildness of her voice. It was apparent that until I did what she said, I wasn\u2019t getting any answers.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy do you change locked in a cage rather than the woods?\u201d she inquired before I stepped into the bathroom. Of course they went through my home. Did I really think they wouldn\u2019t?<\/p>\n She knew what I was and I didn\u2019t have the energy to deny it. I looked over my shoulder. \u201cBecause animals belong in cages.\u201d<\/p>\n The look eclipsed her face so quickly. It was a flash, easily missed. She looked aggrieved, perhaps even offended. \u201cAnd the sedatives?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cIt doesn\u2019t like being caged, and I haven\u2019t found a way to put it down without killing me.\u201d I glanced down at my wrist. The years had faded the scar into a thin light line, but it was a constant reminder of how much I hated that part of me. At fifteen, the typical teenage angst,\u00a0\u00a0 pimples, and a gangly body that didn\u2019t want to cooperate, was further complicated by my horrid transformation into a wolf. The moon called and I responded. My body pulled and contorted to torturous limits, ripping at my humanity until the only thing left was the unfamiliar feral animal\u2014a werewolf.<\/p>\n I gave in to the depression and the iniquity, but it refused to be put down. The only thing I accomplished that night was hurting my mother and realizing I wasn\u2019t as strong as I thought. That night, she vowed to make my life as normal as possible. I changed into a wolf every full moon. How normal could my life be?<\/p>\n I lifted my gaze to meet Joan\u2019s; it was just a beat as it dropped from mine. She saw the scar where I had slashed my wrist repeatedly with a silver blade. Too many assaults to the same area prevented it from healing well. It left me scarred with a constant reminder of what I had done. I waited, watching her reaction, anticipating the horror, the intrigue, even the concern. And there it was\u2015concern. The same look my mother gave me when I spoke of the wolf as though it were a separate entity. My mother always wanted me to embrace it, but I couldn\u2019t. As far as I was concerned, it was an unwelcome guest that showed up once a month despite my objections. It was a plague, a betrayal of my humanity, and I refused to accept or embrace it. Instead, every full moon, I would lie locked in a cage and sedated until it was all over. At least I could pretend my life was my own and I was somewhat normal.<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019ll be here with some food when you\u2019re done,\u201d Joan stated with a plaintive smile, which I quickly realized was a mask.<\/p>\n ***<\/p>\n If taking a shower was supposed to calm me, she was mistaken. Instead, it heightened my anxiety; fight or flight egged me on to respond. On the countertop were m<\/em>y<\/em> blow dryer, my <\/em>curling irons, my<\/em> toiletries, my <\/em>Sonic toothbrush and my <\/em>beauty products. I stared at the counter. Yes, these were my<\/em> things placed neatly on a stranger\u2019s<\/em> bathroom counter. I rummaged through the cabinets, the linen closet and the medicine cabinet, not quite sure for what. My head was starting to ache as I tried to make sense of this.<\/p>\n Had I been abducted? If so, they sure were some thoughtful criminals to care about my comfort. I tried to make light of the situation because if I didn\u2019t, I was going to spiral into a panic. The woman who stared back at me from the vanity mirror didn\u2019t make things better. I looked terrible. My thick, curly hair was barely contained in the braid. Olive skin that usually looked vibrant was now dull and blanched. Desolate eyes reflected back at me, darkened to the point that they looked jasper rather than emerald. I quickly pulled my gaze from the mirror.<\/p>\n For a brief moment, I considered fleeing out the small window just above the garden tub. Instead, I sat on the edge of the tub, formulating a plan on how to make an escape. I could go through the bathroom window, but for some reason, I felt like I would be met with the angry psycho from my earlier attempt. If I could manage to get past Joan, could I get past the people I heard downstairs? I showered, taking an exceptionally long time. Part of me hoped Joan would have given up and left. I opened the overnight bag with my <\/em>clothes in it and put on a t-shirt and a pair of yoga pants. I\u2019ll give it to them: they were oddly meticulous and thoughtful, which should have comforted me, but it didn\u2019t. Weren\u2019t psychopaths and serial killers usually meticulous?<\/p>\n When I walked out of the bathroom, Joan was seated in a chair next to the bed. A waiter\u2019s cart sat next to it with an assortment of sandwiches that filled the room with alluring scents. My stomach began to rumble.<\/p>\n \u201cPlease have a seat.\u201d She patted a spot on the bed near her. Slowly, I walked toward her, watching her intently as I sat further away than the spot she pointed to, closer to the door.<\/p>\n \u201cWhy am I here?\u201d I asked.<\/p>\n \u201cEat. You must be famished. You\u2019ve had quite the night,\u201d she urged in that same gentle voice. It was still soft and warm but it no longer soothed me. Instead, I now found it irritating because I figured she was doing it to manipulate me. It was hard to break the social rule and be a raging jerk to someone who was being exceptionally kind. She slid the cart of food toward me. There were several roast beef sandwiches, bags of chips and sliced fruit. I usually liked my sandwiches warm, but I was too hungry to let something like that stop me. Discreetly, I sniffed the sandwiches. They seemed okay. I hesitated for a moment before I took a bite. I was on my second sandwich when she inched toward the edge of the chair.<\/p>\n Studying me, she seemed distracted by her own thoughts. After long moments of intense silence, she asked, \u201cDo you know why the vampires were after you?\u201d<\/p>\n On Kindle Countdown Deal starting Friday for the US and UK.<\/strong><\/p>\n Moon Tortured (US):<\/p>\n http:\/\/amzn.com\/B00K9W0F9A<\/a> (On Sale for $.99)<\/p>\n Moon Tortured (UK):<\/p>\n http:\/\/www.amazon.co.uk\/dp\/B00K9W0F9A<\/a>\u00a0 (On Sale for $.99)<\/p>\n Moon Tortured (AU):<\/p>\n http:\/\/www.amazon.com.au\/dp\/B00K9W0F9A<\/a><\/p>\n Moon Tortured (CA):<\/p>\n http:\/\/www.amazon.ca\/dp\/B00K9W0F9A<\/a><\/p>\n Amazon Author Page (US):<\/p>\n http:\/\/www.amazon.com\/McKenzie-Hunter\/e\/B00KX86IDC<\/a><\/p>\n Amazon Author\u2019s Page (UK):<\/p>\n http:\/\/www.amazon.co.uk\/-\/e\/B00KX86IDC<\/a><\/p>\n Facebook:<\/p>\n https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/MckenzieHunter.author<\/a><\/p>\n Mailing List:<\/p>\n