Promise the Moon (Lorimar Pack Book 1) Page 2

  Allowing myself to bury my nose in the fabric one last time, I brought his scent deep into my lungs. Then I pinched the material between my teeth, stepped outside and trotted up the path leading to the bluff. The sheer drop made my stomach twist when I got close to the edge and gazed out at the beautiful Smoky Mountain range. The shirt fluttered in the air currents, stirring more of that burnt-metal smell, as I hung my head over the edge.

  And then I let go.

  Chapter 2

  The first time I met Marshal Thierry Thackeray, our conclave liaison, I almost bucked into an involuntary shift. Despite appearing human, she reeked of fur and magic and death, things that set my wolf’s teeth on edge. These days my tolerance for her was higher, but she still gave me the heebie-jeebies. Especially when I stepped out of the RV the next morning and found her sitting in my plastic lawn chair with a leather-bound book in her hands, engrossed in its contents like she’d been waiting a while.

  My dreams of doing nothing on my first day off went up in a puff of smoke.

  Emerald runes speckled the skin of her left arm from fingertips to shoulder, and the creepy tattoos—or whatever they were—glimmered as if lit from within. She was the half-blood daughter of some legendary fae, but his name escaped me. I had a book about him on my nightstand along with all the other heavy reading I was doing on fae these days. It paid to know your enemy, and I wanted encyclopedic knowledge of what we were up against.

  “Thierry,” I managed with as much enthusiasm as an arachnophobe trapped in a porta-potty with a spider perched on the tissue roll. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Surprise inspection.” Her vivid green eyes flicked up to mine, catching my flinch, and she chuckled until she dropped her bookmark. “Kidding, Dell. I’m kidding.”

  “Oh.” I huffed out a thin laugh as authentic as the local Mexican restaurant.

  Stepping back, I gave her room to stand without bumping into me. She and I were of a height. I pegged her at five-ten to my five-eleven. Our builds were similar, too, both of us athletic verging on lean. There the similarities quit. Her sleek black hair reminded me of a starless night sky while mine was the strawberry blonde all kids resented inheriting with the fire of a thousand suns. Curly too, of course, because that made brushing leaves out of my hair the morning after a run so much easier. My eyes were faded denim to her cloverleaf. I was also freckled in places not polite to mention in mixed company due to the amount of time I spent naked as a jaybird.

  “Nice place.” She patted the side of my RV. “This is new, right?”

  “It was delivered last week from the dealer over in Elizabethton.” I resisted the urge to dust her fingerprints off the polished siding. “I’ve never owned something new that no one but me has ever used.”

  My RV was more of a pop-up camper if I’m honest. The compact recreational vehicle collapsed for easy hauling, not that I had a truck or could afford to buy one after this splurge, and folded up to form a hard-side tent. It had all the amenities—bed, toilet, shower, sink, cooktop, micro table and seating area—in an area ten feet long by seven feet wide. It was cozy, and I paid cash for it. That was the most important thing. I didn’t like debt. I hated when creditors slithered over the ground like reaching vines to swipe at your legs in the hopes they could knock you off your feet.

  “Sounds like it was money well spent.” One more pat, and she lowered her arm. “I brought you four new recruits for the program.” Dark circles beneath her eyes told me she was sleeping about as well as me. Dollars to donuts, our nightmares weren’t the same though. “The decision about who stays, of course, is yours. You have a better feel for pack dynamics than I do.”

  Giving me the final word was a small mercy. Our pack had teetered on the razor’s edge, a group of busted-up wolves searching for a target to vent all that pent-up rage, before the conclave decided to pass out licenses to kill for predators armed to the teeth with, well, teeth.

  Our alphas had cobbled the Lorimar pack together from the outcasts in our old pack. Each wolf sworn to Cord Graeson and Camille Ellis was broken, and most were downright mean when the mood struck. Balancing the old pack with Thierry’s steady stream of new recruits was a lesson in patience, and that was a commodity running in short supply.

  “Doing some light reading, huh?” Her knuckles made a dull thump against the hide-bound tome. “I haven’t seen a copy of A Field Guide to Fae Folk since I was in marshal academy.”

  The one sad cup of instant coffee I had gulped down while dressing wasn’t enough for this. Lack of caffeine had prevented me from realizing the book she had been reading was mine. “Cam checked it out of some conclave library.” I accepted it when she offered and inspected the cover. “I must have left it out here last night.” After I trudged home from the mountain and curled up on my mattress. “I’m glad it didn’t rain.”

  “The cover is spelled,” she assured me. “It’s waterproof and flame retardant.”

  “Good to know.” Getting us back on track, I tossed the book onto my bed then shut the door and started heading toward the building that used to act as a rental office at the entrance of the Stone’s Throw RV Park. “So four new guys, huh?” Our core pack was small. Less than a dozen wolves. But word traveled fast about the pack who hunted fae without fear of conclave retribution, and wargs had been showing up on our doorstep for weeks. Most planned on returning to their packs, eventually. Others had voiced interest in making our temporary alliance more permanent. That, thank the Lord, was not my headache. “That brings the pledge total up to fourteen.”

  “Yes.” She walked beside me, matching my stride, and opened her hand. Four delicate eggs sat on her palm. “I came prepared in case you gave this batch two thumbs down.”

  Crack one of those bad boys over someone’s head, and they lost six hours of memory. Poof. Talk about getting your brain scrambled.

  “I appreciate the backup.” Thanking the fae got you locked in towers, spinning straw into gold or just plain dead. Even a half-fae like Thierry could collect on that debt. Appreciating their efforts skirted the line without implying I owed her for helping. That was the first lesson Cam had drummed into my thick skull. “Some of these lunkheads don’t want to go peacefully. They don’t take rejection well.”

  “Which is why it’s better for us if they don’t remember it.” She pocketed the eggs, and we kept going. “How are you liking the RV lifestyle?”

  “A house on wheels is a step up from exile, if that’s what you’re asking,” I joked. Mostly.

  Dot Cahill, Cam’s aunt, bought the Stone’s Throw RV Park when it became obvious the Lorimar pack would be staying in Butler, Tennessee for the foreseeable future. Real estate was her hobby. She bought, sold and traded property as though life were one giant game of Monopoly. Maybe for a fae with deep pockets and a case of incurable wanderlust it was.

  A cabin-like structure came into view, a rustic castle encircled by a moat of dazzling white gravel. The wooden sign that read Welcome to Stone’s Throw RV Park hung over a heavy oak door with actual rivets dotting the thick iron bands crisscrossing its length. That detail alone made the office seem downright medieval.

  Either the previous owners had lived life like it was a renaissance faire, or they had been preppers ready to greet the zombie apocalypse from the safety of their mini fortress. I was just thankful they had dreamed big and given us so much space to use.

  Given the size of our pack and our propensity for nudity, we had closed the park to outsiders. Since we weren’t taking on new tenants, Cord had claimed the former manager’s office as his own and handled pack business there. And because the alphas were out of the building—and the state—that meant I got to preside there.

  Goodie.

  Four men built for brawling cluttered the narrow walkway ahead. Haden barred the doorway, keeping an eye on our guests.

  I brushed past the wannabe pledges and unlocked the building, making a beeline toward the coffeemaker in the conference room. Once I had wakeup juice per
colating, I examined the prospects, wishing for the millionth time that crazies came with a warning label stamped on their forehead.

  A timer dinged behind me, and I poured myself a cup—downed it—and then topped off my mug before facing the room. Thierry left her post beside the door, crossed the room and helped herself to steaming hot joe before resuming her position. Haden stood opposite her, both guarding the only exit.

  The men swiveled in their seats to watch Haden, of course, but he just grinned like a kid in a candy store at the dressing-down that was coming.

  “I’m Adele Preston, beta of the Lorimar pack.” I addressed the backs of four heads that whipped toward the sound of my voice faster than a striking rattler. “You can call me Dell.”

  “You’re the beta?” One man stood so quickly, he knocked over his chair. “You’re a woman.”

  “Thanks for noticing.” You’d think the boobs would have given it away sooner, the things were huge, but I digress. “Now are you sitting down or are you leaving?”

  He looked to the other men for support. They didn’t blink. Excellent. There was hope for them yet.

  “Where is the alpha? Where is Cord Graeson?” His fists clenched at his sides. “I demand to speak to him.”

  “Sorry, Cord can’t come to the phone right now.” I didn’t expect the alpha couple’s return for another forty-eight hours. “You deal with me, or you hit the road. Your call.”

  A rumble grated low in his throat. “I’m out of here.”

  “Safe travels.” I wiggled my fingers at him as he left. “Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.”

  Thierry followed him, hand in her pocket. She popped in five minutes later with a wet paper towel she used to clean her fingers. With her in position, I proceeded. “Anyone else here have trouble taking orders from a woman?”

  The three remaining men studied me with renewed interest. The guy in the middle, dressed in combat fatigues and wearing a killer smile, raised his hand.

  Circling the long conference table, I sank into the chair at the head. “Yes?”

  “My grandmother is the alpha of our pack. I have no issues with women in leadership roles.”

  Haden choked on his snort while Killer Smile waited to be praised for his progressive views. A man admitting a female could lead as well as a male was a rarity in our society, but it shouldn’t be, and I couldn’t bring myself to pat him on the head for showing basic human decency.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Why are you here?” I braced my elbows on the table and rested my chin on my palm. “What’s in this for you?”

  “I fought for my country.” Pride rounded his chest. “Why wouldn’t I fight for my world?”

  Good answer. I made a thoughtful sound then addressed the others. “You two, same question.”

  “I heard your pack takes wolves with nowhere else to go.” The man on the left of Killer Smile kept his chin tucked to his chest. Either he was omega-level submissive, or he thought acting nonthreatening might help his case. Most packs welcomed submissive wolves. They were the glue that held a pack together whereas dominants were the reason things got smashed and required adhesive in the first place. “I’m willing to fight to earn my place.”

  I drummed my fingernails against my chin, filing that tidbit away for later. I wanted more information on this wolf before offering him two hots and a cot. Most of the Lorimar wolves were headcases. That didn’t mean we wanted to welcome more patients to the asylum.

  “What about you?” I asked the last wolf. “What’s your deal?”

  “A banshee killed my mate. The conclave held a trial and let the bitch off the hook.” In a snap, the placid waters of his eyes churned with hatred. “You kill fae here, and the conclave doesn’t prosecute. I want in on that.”

  “Thank you for your time.” I straightened, suppressing a wince when tender vertebrae popped. “But I have to ask you to leave.”

  Thierry and I shared a glance, and she reached for her pocket again.

  Old pain twisted his expression into that of a drowning man desperate for a lifeline, surprising me by how well he had hidden his brokenness until now. “Am I not good enough?”

  “What do you know about Lorimar?” I challenged him. “Other than the fact we hunt fae?”

  His silence spoke volumes. Most didn’t ask questions, or at least not the right ones.

  “Our alpha male is Cord Graeson.” I broke it down for the whole room. “He’s the grandson of Terry Graeson, who founded the Chandler pack out of Villanow, Georgia.” Nods and murmurs of approval greeted that pronouncement. “That makes him a third-generation alpha.” Killer Smile liked the sound of that. “Our alpha female, Camille Ellis, is fae.”

  The man’s jaw came unhinged, and for a minute I thought I might have to borrow a spatula to scrape his chin off the floor. “What?”

  “Camille Ellis is a Gemini.” A type of fae who could take on characteristics of other fae or supernaturals with only one drop of their blood. “She’s also an agent for the Earthen Conclave.”

  Killer Smile wasn’t grinning now.

  The meek guy beside him I decided to nickname Shoe Laces kept staring at his boots. I had paid him particular attention when I mentioned Cam. He didn’t flinch. He had known what he was getting into, and he was cool with our untraditional pack structure. Most likely that meant he didn’t have a choice but to be fine with it. Great. The odds of him being just as busted up as the rest of us climbed higher.

  “I’ll see him off the property.” Thierry gripped the protesting warg’s upper arm and hauled him out the door with incredible warg-like strength. Not for the first time I wondered what her deal was, and then decided I was probably safer not knowing. “Play nice while I’m gone, puppitos.”

  The runes covering her left side glinted with the promise of pain, and not a peep was heard until the door shut behind her.

  “You’re hunting fae,” Killer Smile said slowly. “And one of your alphas is fae? She’s okay with that?”

  “Fae born on Earth have the same rights as you and I do. This is their home, their world, as much as it’s ours. The fae we’re hunting are here illegally.” Earthborn fae, and those who had been granted sanctuary by the fae magistrates, were protected by conclave law unless caught aiding or abetting a fugitive. Do that, and the perpetrators forfeited their status and got shipped back to Faerie. “The fae king has forbidden his subjects from crossing to our world. He understands how fragile humanity is compared to the kin he keeps hidden in shadow, even from his own people. Any who disobey him are committing treason. The punishment for that is death. The conclave is happy to entrust us to carry out the sentence.”

  Playing judge, jury and executioner was getting old fast. There had to be a better way. Zero tolerance gave us too much power. Or maybe I just didn’t want the responsibility of all those deaths on my conscience. I was a beta. I thrived on taking orders. Making decisions? Not so much. I didn’t want to be alpha. Ever. And yet here I sat, in Cord’s chair, calling shots that ended lives.

  “That’s why the conclave has offered you immunity,” he surmised. “You’re doing their dirty work.”

  “Look, Smiley, someone ripped the sky a new one.” I forced the quiver from my upper lip. His barb had struck too close to home. “I don’t know how much you know about Faerie, but it’s chockful of horrors. What we have on Earth? They’re watered-down copies of the originals. They wanted freedom from the old ways, peace to raise their families. They chased the American Dream across realms. They’re our allies.” I rapped my knuckles on the desk. “What we’re hunting is the real deal. The monsters under the bed. The boogiemen in the closets. We’re hunting the nightmares Faerie has been dreaming since our ancestors huddled in caves afraid the demons would come steal their souls in the night.”

  Anticipation glinted in his eyes, and I knew I had hooked him whether I meant to or not.

  He rubbed his jaw. “How do we know the difference?”

  “We train you.” Tal
k about the blind leading the blind. “The conclave is working to evacuate fae within a hundred-mile radius of this town in the interest of preserving lives, but some are tied to the lands and waters. Leaving would be a death sentence, so they’ll stay and take their chances.” Knowing wargs were the new cautionary tale for fae children nauseated me. “Given time, you’ll learn to identify the Faerie-born by their scent and, oh yeah, the fact they’ll be trying to gut you before you can kill them.”

  Thierry ducked in and took up position behind the pledges. Goop that was likely raw yolk strung from her fingers as she worked to clean them.

  “One last thing.” I sized them both up before asking. “Are either of you guys handy?”

  “I’ve done construction work,” Shoe Laces said in a quiet voice.

  “Not me.” Killer Smile eyed the only remaining competition. “Why? Do you need work done around the place?”

  “I’m a carpenter,” I enunciated slowly, so as not to spook them more than I already had. What with being both a woman and in charge, I worried the poor dears might faint on the spot learning my trade was once a boys-only club too. “I need extra hands with a project I’m working on, so I thought I would ask while it was on my mind.”

  Shoe Laces raised his head, and genuine interest brightened his eyes. Maybe today wasn’t a waste after all.

  “Any questions?” I clasped my hands together. “Second thoughts?”

  The two men remaining shook their heads.

  “In that case, welcome to Stone’s Throw.” Most of the Lorimar wolves called the new recruits Stoners for short, and the nickname had stuck. “You two go with Haden. He’s our pledge liaison. He’ll get you set up with a place to stay and explain the lay of the land.” I pegged them with a hard glare. “You need something, talk to him. If he can’t fix the problem, you see Zed. You come to me with petty crap, and I’ll kick you out so fast your head will spin.”