Page 64 of Marked By Moonlight

“Who are you?” Ian asked.

“Someone you don’t wish to challenge,” he answered, never once looking to Ian. His steady gaze stayed on Claire with searing intensity.

“And why is that?”

“My name,” the newcomer paused, finally looking to the nervous pair, “is Darius.”

A change swept over the two lycans, an anxiety that had not been there before. She could taste their fear, coppery and metallic as blood in her mouth.

“Leave her and go,” Darius repeated, his voice a rasp of sound on the air.

Ian and Bianca exchanged looks. Finally, a touch of defiance to his voice, Ian announced, “Darius is dead.”

The one claiming to be Darius smiled. A strange smile. Like it didn’t belong on his face. Like it hurt his cheeks to do so. “Is that what is being said?”

“Does she belong to you?” Bianca demanded. Ian grabbed her arm and gave her a warning glance.

“Let’s just say I’m making her my concern.”

“She killed one of our pack.” Bianca shrugged free of Ian’s hand and pointed to the corpse, heedless of her cohort’s silent warning. “In accordance with pack law, we demand recompense.”

“Very well.” Darius’s voice was cold, curt, void of emotion, his unfamiliar accent enunciating each word crisply. “I shall recompense you by letting you live.”

Bianca’s mouth parted in a small O of surprise. Apparently Claire wasn’t the only one breaking pack customs.

Darius motioned at Bianca and warned Ian, “Rein in your bitch lest you lose two members of your pack this night.”

Bianca looked prepared to argue, but Ian clamped a hand down on her arm, saying in a tight voice, “Shut up, Bianca.”

“There’s only one of him,” she hissed, trying to wriggle her arm free. “He can’t be who he claims.”

“I’m leaving.” Ian’s guarded gaze never left Darius. “Come with me, or stay here and find out if he’s really who he says. Just know you’ll likely die for your efforts.”

Bianca nodded reluctantly and allowed Ian to lead her away. Claire’s mouth was suddenly desert dry as she faced this newthreat, suppressing the urge to pursue the departing lycans and press them for more information about Benedict. An instinct she was fast learning to heed told her not to turn her back on Darius. His icy gaze bore into her, relentless as a blizzard snowfall.

Her attention flew to her gun several feet away, muscles tensing, ready to dive when his voice stopped her cold.

“You’ll never make it in time.”

She lifted her gaze to his, shocked to see that his eyes had begun to glow. Brighter than silver. Like two beacons of light scorching her to the spot.

His brow furrowed. “You’re—” he broke off as if suddenly seeing her—truly seeing her. “You’re not lost yet.”

Claire opened then shut her mouth, seeing no reason to deny the charge.

“A lycan with a soul,” he murmured. “For how long, I wonder?”

“There’s nothing to wonder about. My soul’s not going anywhere,” Claire vowed, sliding one step closer to her gun. “So you can forget about me joining—”

Zing.

She barely heard the gun’s muffled echo, suspected she wouldn’t have noticed it if she didn’t know the sound so well, but she did. It was a sound she would never forget.

Claire spun around in time to see Bianca fall and Ian throw himself at Gideon. She lunged for her gun with a strangled cry, sure that at any moment Darius would stop her, but she still had to try, had to help Gideon.

She ran the length of the alley, stopping several feet from the struggling pair and leveling her gun. Still, a clear shot eluded her. Squinting one eye shut, she took aim at the moving pair.

“Come on,” she muttered under her breath, her heart rising in her throat as every second passed, “give me an opening.”

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