Child Of The Moon

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Chapter Fourteen: Silver Bullets

I had just barely dosed off, when I felt Marc's overwhelming anger and distress. His blood lust was so strong, it woke me up. Not that my dreams were very peaceful to begin with. I mostly dreamed of the gates of Tartarus opening and damned souls killing innocent ones.

I got up and followed his hostile energy. I ended up outside, facing the gates of the school.

I found Marc's back easily among the other warriors. I recognized the three Wolves Marc had introduced to me once at lunch. Carlos, his third in command, Aria, the head warrior and Louis, a Pack doctor. I also saw Alyssa. She was kneeling beside someone and when I breathed in, I caught a whiff of blood.

I walked forward without thinking. I didn't even feel the cold October breeze biting through the thin cotton of my night shirt or lashing against my bare legs. These shorts I was wearing wasn't much protection against the cold. My Wolf could feel the pain of members of her Pack and she was on full on mother mode.

"What's going on?" I asked, once I was close enough.

All eyes turned in my direction. The eyes of thirty Wolves on me would normally discourage me, but at the moment, my Wolf was at the surface, her eyes on the five wounded me on the ground, clutching their open wounds.

"Well?" my Wolf hissed through my teeth, I could feel my canines extending. "Who did this?"

Marc's expression went from relieved to see me, to lustful as he took in my attire, to pissed as he realized I was only in short shorts and a thin cotton tee in front of other male Wolves.

He growled threateningly and all the males averted their eyes, focusing on anything but me.

"Why the hell are you out here dressed like that?" he growled, removing his coat and throwing it over me, his eyes were pitch black and his Wolf was snarling behind them. He didn't like male Wolves around me when he perceived me as "half dressed."

"These men," I repeated, my Wolf was eyeing them with worry. "What happened to them, Marc?"

It was silent for a moment. All the Wolves glanced over at Marc, waiting for him to speak about whatever happened.

I then realized Roxanna was standing among them. Her silver eyes moved between Marc and I, watching us closely as she always did. Her honey blonde hair hung loose around her slender shoulders. My Wolf snapped her teeth at the sight of this She-Wolf, but otherwise left it alone. Marc was ours and everyone knew it, right now, our priority was figuring out why there were five injured Wolves in our Pack.

"It was the Hunters."

They were four words and yet they did so much damage. My Wolf was snarling, struggling to come to the surface and crush the neck of the men who wounded our family between her jaws.

"They did this?" My voice was a deeper, inhuman growl.

Marc nodded, seemingly angry himself. When my Wolf felt for his, I realized that he was simmering with anger.

"I came out here to patrol this area myself with a few of the Pack warriors, when we caught the scent of blood," Marc explained, looking troubled as he went on. "When we got there, we found them,"--he gestured to the injured males being tended to by Louis--"scattered, bleeding profusely. They told us they had been ambushed following the scent of the trespassers. Five humans came at them with silver bullets and knives. They were lucky to make it out alive."

I was in shock. I probably shouldn't have been so shocked--deep down I knew the Hunters had done this--but I was.

"So this means we're..." I trailed off, unable to finish.

"Yeah," Marc said, his face more serious than I've ever seen it. "We're at war."


I barely slept that night. My head was filled with thoughts of war. My mind instantly went back to that vision Selene had shown me long ago. The piles of corpses, Wolves and humans alike, the smell of decaying flesh and blood hanging in the air.

Would the good people of this Pack end up like that?

Would Marc?

My Wolf whimpered at that thought and the pain she felt at losing her Mate was so severe, I curled in on myself, trying desperately to catch my breath.

"Tanaya, are you hurt?"

I looked up and Marc was kneeling beside me, his face twisted in worry.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, straightening up. Now that Marc was here with his scent wrapping around us, my Wolf felt good as new. "I thought you were meeting with Aria to discuss strategy or whatever."

"I was, but your Wolf was in pain. I could feel it. I thought maybe the Hunters had gotten to you, when I saw you curled up like that..." he trailed off, eyeing me worriedly. "Are you sick? Do you need something?"

"No, I was just thinking about this war and how similar it is to the war that happened five-hundred years ago," I explained. "I was wondering if the good people in this Pack would end up like that...if you would end up like that." I flinched as a sharp pain lanced through my chest. "Whenever I think of you dying in this war..." I struggled to breathe around the tightening in my chest. "It hurts."

Marc's eyes were soft as I finished. Already his Wolf had reached out to comfort mine, assuring her that he was here, alive and real. As our souls intertwined, he cupped my cheek with his large hand, staring into my eyes with such affection, I almost choked on it.

"Nothing is going to keep me away from you, little mate," he said, softly, his thumb brushing my lips gently. "I will protect you and this Pack and when I'm done with this, you will take your place as Luna, by my side where you belong. Where you were always meant to be." He drew me close and pressed a kiss to my forehead, comforting me further. "Nothing and no one is going to keep me away from you. I've waited too long for you to let anything separate us."

I closed my eyes, my Wolf comforted at his words. I, however, was not very comforted. I was surprised to find I was worried about Marc. Genuinely, truly worried. I had seen that battlefield five-hundred years ago, had seen to bodies of brave warriors and their Alphas. Marc was strong, no doubt--I could feel the power radiating off of him, seeping from his head to his toes, commanding respect--but Marc was still flesh and blood. He was not invulnerable. A silver bullet to the chest, a silver knife through the gut, could end him.

I found myself wondering what I would do without him if he died?

My Wolf wouldn't be the only one to mourn his loss. Reaching down inside myself, I found the idea of losing him caused me great pain.

I cared about Marc more than I thought I did.

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