MOONLIGHT LEGACY Read online

  Caged.

  She ripped at the bed covers, tearing them to shreds in a matter of microseconds. No, I won't be caged…have to get out…must feed…no…no! She loped toward the door at a speed that even after last night still astounded her, as it seemed to astound Hadden.

  Miranda saw the startled look on his face, and glimpsed the glint of fear in his dark liquid gaze before he could hide it.

  "Get away from door," she croaked, her tongue stumbling on the words in a manner that would have been embarrassing for her in human state. Now it only evoked a sense of deep frustration and anger. "Must get out."

  "I can't do that, Miranda," he said quietly. She could actually feel the tension in his body. "You can't go out tonight. I'm trying to help you. Please try to remember what I told you about the sheriff."

  She felt a deep sense of rage at his words and struck out instinctively, backhanding him easily halfway across the room. The part of her that remained Miranda was horrified by her actions, and she forced herself to pause long enough to make sure he was still breathing before she made her escape. But the other part, the part she couldn't control, demanded release from the confines that held her back.

  Hadden lay unconscious, crumpled against the wall. A thin trickle of blood was streaming from his nose. She froze in place, her gaze riveted to his face. The blood aroused her. She wanted to taste it…rip him apart…feast off his vibrant warm flesh. She made an automatic move in his direction, and then brought herself up short. Horror flooded through her when she realized her intent.

  Dear God, no…

  Miranda backed away, tearing her gaze away from him with difficulty. And then with the hunger clawing at her insides, she ripped off the shiny lock and ran out of the room.

  In seconds she reached the front door, almost tearing it from its hinges in her urgency to escape. She bounded onto the porch, freedom beckoning her onward. She could almost taste the sweetness of it. The feel of chill, crisp air struck her fur-covered body, eliciting a tremble of excitement from her.

  "Miranda, my God…"

  Startled, her head jerked upward. Her preternatural eyes searched the shadows.

  A pale-faced Steven stood three feet away, holding an oversized book to his chest. His fingers convulsed, and she could see the whiteness in his knuckles as he gripped the book for dear life.

  The scent of his fear was strong in her nostrils, making her senses reel in delight and intoxicating her to the point of losing control. She stepped toward him, unthinking, listening to the call of her blood…listening to the call of the wild upon her senses.

  A voice screamed deep inside her soul, bringing her to a dead stop. No. I won't kill. Panic overwhelmed her, stole reason and thought. With a moan of anguish, she fled into the darkness.

  Steven stood frozen in place, trying frantically to come to grips with what he'd just witnessed with his own eyes. He knew what Hadden had told him, and he had believed him. Or so he thought, until he'd come face to face with the creature Miranda had become. None of it really seemed real, until now. Never had he been so scared in his entire life.

  Dear God in Heaven, the way she'd looked at him. So hungry…His heart hammered painfully against his ribs, and he reached a trembling hand to his forehead to brush at the beads of perspiration that had popped out along the edge of his hairline.

  Hadden…what had she done to him? Steven dropped the book, and moving swiftly, he leapt onto the porch…tearing through the house while shouting for his friend. Why hadn't Hadden listened to me about the danger he was exposing himself to?

  When he reached the bedroom, Steven immediately spotted Hadden lying against the wall. He noted the boarded up windows and the broken lock. The room lay in chaos…like a wild animal had ravaged the place. Which indeed one had. Miranda.

  He rushed to Hadden's side. "Hadden…" A knot lodged in his throat. Had she killed him…left him for dead? Dread seeped through him as he bent down next to his friend and felt for a pulse. If Miranda had killed him, she'd never be able to live with herself. Her suffering would be unbearable, and he knew that better than anyone.

  "Thank God," he whispered as he felt the rhythmic beat of Hadden's heart.

  Hadden moaned and opened his eyes to stare dazedly at his friend. "What happened?"

  Steven sat back on his heels. "You tell me."

  Hadden shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. He reached up to touch the back of his head, pulling his hand away to stare at the traces of red that dripped from his fingertips. "I feel like I've been hit with a sledgehammer."

  "From what I saw when I arrived, I'd say you're not far off base," Steven said dryly.

  Hadden's gaze cleared, alarm and concern leapt into his eyes. "Miranda." He sat up abruptly, scrambled to his feet, then stood there swaying back and forth

  Alarmed, Steven got to his feet and caught Hadden's arm. "Hold on…Just where do you think you're going in such a hurry?"

  "To find Miranda."

  "No way, Hadden. You can barely stand, much less go out and hunt for Miranda. For all I know, you could have a concussion after that blow to your head."

  "I have to." Hadden said, his voice harsh. "The sheriff is determined to hunt down the creature that killed Bobby. If he comes across Miranda out there, he'll kill her. I can't let that happen."

  Steven stepped in front of his friend, blocking his exit. "Listen to me, Hadden, she nearly killed you. I'm not going to let you go after her while she's still in animal form."

  Hadden's face seemed to freeze over. "Get out of my way."

  Steven could not help but hear the undeniable threat in his friend's voice. He pushed his wire-rimmed glasses back on his nose with a weary sigh. "Will you at least let me take you to see Hank? You need to be examined by a doctor before you go chasing all over the country side like a madman."

  "I am a doctor, and I say I'm fine. Now get out of my way."

  Steven flinched at the deadly sound of his voice.

  "Or I'm going to knock you the hell out of my way," Hadden added.

  Steven tried to think of another argument to convince Hadden not to go after Miranda, but after one last look into the man's cold hard eyes, he knew it would be futile. Hadden was damned and determined to go after her, and no doubt get himself killed in the process. And where did that leave him? Saying a prayer over his best friend's grave, that's where, he thought grimly. But what other choice did he have?

  After a moment of hesitation, he stepped aside. "All right, if you're going, go. But I'm coming with you."

  "Suit yourself, but stay out of the way when we find her." Hadden paused for a moment. "I don't want you getting hurt."

  "Look who's talking about getting hurt," Steven muttered. Reluctantly, he followed Hadden into the kitchen to get flashlights, and then followed his friend out the front door.

  Hadden paused for a moment and flicked on his flashlight. Steven followed suit nervously. He didn't particularly care about being out in the dark with Miranda possibly lurking nearby, not after the way she'd looked at him.

  The soft pool of light illuminated a dark object lying on the grass. Hadden bent down to pick up the book Steven had dropped earlier.

  "Legends and Myths of Werewolves," he murmured thoughtfully, before he turned to Steven with a hopeful expression. "Did you find out something in this thing that can help Miranda?"

  Steven shook his head sadly. "Not really. There's a lot in the book about how to kill a werewolf, or to protect you from one of them. But nothing on how to prevent the transformation in the first place."

  "I can't accept that. There has to be a cure." Hadden looked out into the night, as if he could see something, or someone, his friend could not. "You have to keep looking, my friend, because I won't rest until we find a way to save her from herself…and from him."

  Chapter 6

  * * *

  Miranda stripped off her clothing, careful this time not to tear them, although she did find it difficult to restrain her instincts to rip the
m off her body and run freely into the deepest part of the woods. She stuffed them into a hollow fallen log, and noted carefully where she put them.

  Then, with a howl of exultation, she ran through the forest feeling as though she could run forever. Overhead, a myriad of stars rode the distant sky, their light clear and cool.

  A slice of moon complemented the array. She felt so alive, so intensely alive, she could have cried from the sheer joy of it.

  Miranda pushed down thoughts of Hadden and her normal life, luxuriating in the feel of the wind riffling through her fur. Strength and a newfound power vibrated throughout her body.

  It felt so good…too good to be true, she thought, panicking. Once again the insidious hunger crept over her, stealing her peace of mind, her mindless joy. It twisted at her insides, until she faltered and dropped in her tracks.

  "Please God…nooo…" Her voice ended in a howl of anguish as she bent double, maddened by hunger, hunger like she'd never experienced before, far worse than the previous night. A hunger that would kill her if she kept resisting it.

  She didn't know how she knew this but somehow she did. It was as if she'd always known it. A distant memory perhaps. She wasn't sure, but she was sure of one thing, she had to find a way to beat it…to fight the killing lust that thrummed through her body with every step she took.

  "Dammit…I can do this," she shouted to the treetops, tears of pain and frustration blinding her. The flutter of birds, taking flight from a nearby tree, sounded unnaturally loud to her preternatural hearing.

  "Stop torturing yourself, Miranda."

  Instantly, she went into a half crouch and spun around. He leaned against a tree, his black furred arms crossed in front of him, a half smile on his lips. A mesmerizing mixture of man and animal. His green eyes regarded her with amusement. Tormentor…or savior? She didn't know, but she did know he was one of her own kind. They were one and the same no matter how much she wished either of them weren't true.

  "Who are you?" she asked, relieved that her voice came out normal, except that it seemed deeper than her human voice.

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  A sound that sent shivers rippling down her back. Seductive, yet frightening. There was something about him she found compelling, yet repulsive at the same time. How could that be? She should be totally repulsed by him. He'd killed little Bobby, for Christ's sake. She should despise him for doing such a vile act. Oh God, she was so confused…and so damn hungry.

  The thought caught her unaware, and she felt a sense of despair overcome her. She hated herself for thinking of her own ravaging need when little Bobby lay miles away on a cold slab. Since she'd found out about his death, she'd given him very little thought. What kind of person was she? Already, she was changing; she could feel it happening.

  "Drake Guignard is my name, and as you can see, I am what you are becoming. A werewolf, if you're not sure of the terminology." He held out a limp rabbit. "Let's take the edge off your hunger, and then we can talk."

  Miranda eyed it hungrily, hesitating only a moment before her need took over. She had it in her hands; ripping it apart and downing it with an eagerness that a part of her found horrifying, but that another part of her enjoyed immensely.

  Disgusted by her actions, when she was finished Miranda looked at him, wiping guiltily at the wet smear of blood on her mouth before asking, "Why did you kill Bobby last night?"

  Drake slouched down beside her, his dark green gaze locking with her own. "It would have been a shame to pass up an opportunity. You did and I didn't. It's that simple."

  She stared at him, feeling sick at his callousness. "Simple? You call murder simple? A little boy who never hurt anybody, was nothing but an opportunity to you? For God's sake, what kind of monster are you?"

  He lifted a strand of her hair and rubbed it against his face. "The same kind of monster as you, my love. We are the same, you and I. In time, you will think of humans as nothing but prey in the same way I do. It is in your genes. You can try to fight destiny, but destiny will win. It always does in the end. I have lived nigh on three hundred years, and it never ceases to amaze me how some of you young ones fight against your nature." He stared off into the darkness. "There was a time that the question of killing humans for our need never arose, and now it seems to have become an important issue to my pack. I'll never understand this new sensitivity developing among the younger cubs, and it's affecting the elders." Drake gave her a frown. "It's nonsense, all this fuss and fight over the fate of humans. Absolute nonsense."

  Miranda gave him a confused look. "Please, I don't understand any of this."

  Drake reached over and tilted her chin toward him. "You will, chèrie . Soon you will kill without compunction, because I will be your teacher.

  She got to her feet, and looked down at him with contempt. "Never…do you hear me? I will never kill…murder…a human being. My mother never killed humans, and I don't intend to either. I will not be the cold-hearted monster you are no matter what you do or say."

  Drake moved so fast she saw only a blur, and in the next instant, he faced her, his hands biting into her forearms.

  Miranda couldn't ward off the suffocating fear that engulfed her at his touch as she tried to fight him. "Let me go."

  In the darkness, she fancied she could see storms raging in his green eyes, and her blood ran ice cold.

  "You'd better hear me, Miranda Slate, and you'd better listen good. You are a werewolf, and there's not a damn thing you can do to change that. Our kind is superior to man in every way. They are weak and puny…nothing to us. They live out their insignificant lives in mere minutes compared to us. When we are injured, our bodies heal themselves, unless we suffer a direct injury to the center of our hearts. And that rarely occurs since we move faster than the human eye can track when we so desire. I am offering you the same immortality. Do not be a fool. You need me as much as I want you."

  He pulled her close against the midnight darkness of his fur, until she could feel the beat of his heart against her own. She tried to pull away, but he held her in a grip of iron. "What do you mean, immortality? That's an impossibility."

  He smiled down at her. "We are an impossibility," he said, "but we exist. Just as we have since the dawn of mankind. After we reach the age of twenty-four our metabolism slows down to almost a near stop. We age on the average of one year to every ten human years; human life spans are on the same scale as a fly compared to us."

  Drake gave her a look of contempt. "Of course, you are contaminated by human blood so I can't be sure you will achieve the same, but there's a damn good chance you will. And I'm willing to take that chance."

  She thought of Hadden aging and her staying the same—losing him to death, while she went on with a meaningless existence without him. Immortality without him did not tempt her in the slightest. She closed her eyes against the painful thoughts.

  "No…I don't want it, and I don't want you. I don't want any of this."

  He shook her, hard; her eyes flew open in shock and surprise. "This is not something you choose, Miranda. The call of the wild is in your blood. You are one of us whether you want it or not. So, I'd advise you to get used to it," He paused, giving her a long hard look, "and used to killing to survive. You have to have warm blood, and the flesh of fresh meat as your body goes through the metamorphosis cycle. Or you will die."

  She felt the hot ache of tears behind her eyes. "I don't care. I don't want any of this. Why did you come here? What do you want with me?"

  "I came for you."

  "I don't understand."

  He tilted her chin until he could gaze into her eyes. "I came to take you back to Damaina, back to your own kind. Your mother was promised to me as my mate, and I intend to make sure you fulfill the obligation she would not. You belong to me, Miranda, and I mean to have you."

  Stunned, she could only stare at him. She remembered vaguely the mention of Damaina in her mother's journal. It was supposedly situated deep in the Smo
ky Mountains away from the prying eyes of mankind.

  Miranda assumed it no longer existed. Now, Drake wanted her to go with him there…be his wife…honor the promise her mother made.

  No…the very idea horrified her, but as she opened her mouth to protest she froze, unable to move or speak as he gazed into her eyes. Something was different…changed somehow, in a way she didn't understand.

  And then she knew. He was exerting some kind of hypnotic hold over her. Something beyond her understanding. She tried to fight it, but in the darkness of his gaze she saw eternity, and she was one with him and with the universe. The beating of their hearts pounded in her ears and raced through her blood…the sensation of bonding so strong, she gasped. In sheer panic she found the strength to jerk out of his grasp. She stumbled back, fighting to catch her breath, her hand held outward to ward him off.

  What sort of power did this enigmatic man…no…not man…cold-blooded murdering beast, have over her?

  Her entire body shook with revulsion. As well as something else she couldn't…wouldn't allow herself to identify.

  "No," she whispered, spinning around and then running as if for her very life. And in a very real way, she knew she was running for her life…the life she used to have and the simple pleasure she received from it…and the man she loved with every beat of her heart…with every breath she took.

  Miranda would not let Drake take that away from her, nor would she allow the beast that dwelled inside of her to take it away from her. Before, she was willing to give it all up, believing it was hopeless, but not now. She would fight…fight the way Hadden wanted her to…fight the way she must if she was going to survive.

  She was her mother's child, but she was also her father's child. She prayed silently, as she wove her way through the thick undergrowth that the part of her that was her father's child was strong enough to win in the end.

  Miranda ran as if the wind had lent wings to her feet. She tried not to think about what Drake had told her. Or about Hadden waiting anxiously back at the house for her to return. She wanted only to forget, at least for a few minutes.