Page 82 of Fool Moon First Aid

As Ava’s cries dwindle to soft whimpers, the night seems to embrace us, the earth beneath warming slightly as if offering its own form of solace. I brush kisses across her forehead, my hands tracing the contours of her body.

From the corner of my eye, I catch the ethereal green shimmer of my brother’s eyes, a ghostly glow that seems to draw the very essence of the moon. He’s holding a red flower between his teeth, a vivid splash of color against the monochrome tapestry of the night. His whine, a melody of longing and complexity, dances through the cool air, intertwining with the scent of pine and earth.

Ava shifts restlessly, turning her head toward Tyler. Her gasp clenches something within me. A surge of jealousy, bitter and biting, courses through my veins. I force my gaze toward Tyler, attempting to see what she sees. He’s a contrast of shadow and light in wolf form, his fur a patchwork of black and white that melds into the darkness. Muscles ripple beneath his sleek coat as he lowers himself in an effort to appear less imposing and dominant.

Her laughter, a sound that feels like light breaking through the shadows, washes over me, softening the sharp edges of my jealousy. Tyler, sensing the shift in mood, lays the flower down beside us with a grace that belies his size. Ava reaches for it, her fingers delicate and sure, and relief floods me as she remains within the circle of my arms. The thought of releasing her, even for a moment, feels like a concession I’m not ready to make.

As she touches the flower, another wave of jealousy washes over me, but this time, I recognize it for what it is—a desire to be part of their world, their connection. I’ve kept myself from feeling this with her, but after seeing it with Tyler, I want what they have.

Brody’s presence is announced not just by his size, which rivals my own, but also by the soft crunch of leaves underfoot as he approaches. His fur, rich with tawny shades, catches the moonlight, casting him in a regal, almost mythical light. His blue eyes, vigilant and piercing, scan the darkness, ever watchful for the threats that lurk in the shadows of our borrowed sanctuary.

This moment, charged with unspoken understanding, signifies a shift in our relationship. Acceptance flows through our bond, a tangible strength that deepens our connection. Ava’s voice, fragile yet clear, pierces the silence. “We aren’t safe here, are we?” she asks, her words a delicate thread of vulnerability.

“No one will hurt you,” I vow, the air thick with the scent of silver and gunpowder. Her sigh fills me with fierce determination. The trust of one’s mate is a treasure beyond measure for an alpha.

As the others return to their human forms, their eyes reflecting shared pain and resolve, we draw closer, a silent oath of protection and unity under the celestial glow. Despite the precariousness of our situation, I find myself embracing the path and choices that have led us here.

We should hear what happened, Brody suggests, his voice a gentle nudge in our mental bond.

Tyler whimpers a little, even in human form, then he explains, We didn’t leave her. We surrounded the house, waiting and watching, and when the human opened the door to let Ava free, I knew something was wrong. Something awful happened.

“You were right,” she whispers, pressing her back to my chest. One leg is bent over mine, and the other is stretched out to rest over Tyler’s. Brody’s eyes keep flicking to her shoulder, where a bullet grazed her, but it was just a graze. Yes, it was a silver bullet, but she’s okay. I won’t think about what could have happened. I can’t.

“What do you mean?” I brush my lips across her other shoulder, my canines itching to mark her as mine.

“I shouldn’t have gone,” she whispers into the night, “but I think…” She pauses. “I needed to.”

Tension crackles around us as Brody hesitates, then he finally speaks up. “May I?” His fingers lightly trace the side of Ava’s wound. “It’s just a graze, but it needs to be cleaned,” he mutters, more to himself than any of us.

Ava reaches out and links her fingers with his, knowing he needs her to touch him. “They never planned to let me go,” she starts, her voice catching on a hiccup as she fights through her emotions. “My father used my injuries against me, thinking I wouldn’t be able to run.” Her words are laced with a venom that makes my blood boil. “He married me off,” she spits out, the disgust palpable in her tone.

“Ava,” I whisper, my voice a low growl of urgency, “I need you to tell me everything that happened.”

Her nod fills me with dread, and as she leans back against me, she starts to unravel her story. Her voice is flat and emotionless—a stark contrast to the turmoil I know she’s feeling inside. I stay silent, letting her narrate her ordeal in her own way.

We all stay quiet, the bond between us muted in a collective effort to absorb her words without letting our anger frighten her, but make no mistake, inside, I’m seething.

He’s going to die, Brody states, cold and decisive.

I can’t help but agree. Tyler’s emotions are a jumbled, chaotic mess. He doesn’t have as much control as the rest of us, and his anger shoots from him like fireworks.

“Then he married us,” Ava finishes, her voice breaking under the weight. I tighten my grip around her, offering whatever warmth and protection I can as she shivers in my arms. “There’s no way that’s a legal marriage, right?”

“I don’t believe so,” Brody replies, his tone clinical yet concerned, his brow furrowing in thought.

“I didn’t sign anything,” Ava grinds out between clenched teeth as realization dawns on her. “My dad, he knew… He knew I might shift,” she says, piecing together the betrayal with a clarity that cuts deeply. “They all did.”

“Fuck,” Tyler explodes, the word full of disbelief and dawning horror. He runs his hands through his hair, again and again, before he tugs the strands. “Fuck,” he repeats, this time with a shift in tone. Her father knew Ava might have a fated mate. He waited, gambling on whether she’d shift, he says only to us.

The realization hangs heavily between us, but we don’t dwell on it. As much as I want to tear back to that mansion and unleash hell, Ava is my priority.

“Brody,” I snap out, my voice harsher than intended, “shift and get the car.”

He gives Ava a lingering look before he shifts seamlessly, sprinting into the night. The distant howls of dogs fill the silence he leaves behind.

Ava winces, pressing her hand to her ear. “Everything is damn loud,” she complains, a hint of amazement underlining her discomfort.

“That’s your shifter senses,” Tyler explains, his voice softer as he crouches before her, gently cupping her face with his hands. “You fucking shifted.”

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