Unleashed (Dark Moon Shifters #1) Read online

  “Here, let me.” Before I can protest, Kite claims the meat dish in one hand and lifts the leftover tofu stew free with the other, making it all look as effortless as plucking a couple of summer cherries out of a bowl.

  “I could have done it,” I say, but Kite is already headed toward the kitchen.

  “Just wipe down the serving line, boss,” he calls back. “Let your minions take care of the heavy lifting.”

  He’s clearly trying to dismiss my struggle with a joke, but it isn’t funny. It’s demoralizing, and the way my arms are trembling as I finish cleaning the serving line is enough to make me want to grind my teeth in frustration.

  By the time Carrie Ann sidles up beside me, clutching her Tupperware container of cobbler, I’m fighting tears.

  Like the sweetheart she is, she puts a hand on my back and reminds me, “You don’t have to do any of this, you know. Kite, the others, and I are happy to do the grunt work.”

  I shake my head. “But I hate that. I feel like such a diva.”

  “Oh, please.” Carrie laughs her bright, musical laugh, making a few of the kids seated nearby glance our way with smiles instinctively curving their lips.

  That’s what Carrie’s laugh does to people, and one of the many reasons she’s the best choice for my replacement when the time comes. Other people have more education and fancier degrees, but Carrie is an upbeat force of nature who lifts the spirits of everyone she meets.

  And she knows exactly where these kids are coming from. Just four years ago, Carrie was one of them, one of the shattered souls that ended up on our doorstep after the rough streets of Seattle chewed her up and spit her out. But, lucky me, this time one of the new friends I’d made stuck around to join our crew on a more permanent basis.

  “You’re the farthest thing in the world from a diva,” Carrie continues, gazing up at me. “You’re the hardest working woman I know. And we need your brain and your heart more than we need your muscles. Seriously, when you come in tomorrow, sit your ass down in your office and give your energy to your counseling sessions. That’s where you work the magic. Anyone can man the serving line, Wren—even Kite, though he clearly was never taught how to properly clean up after himself.”

  “I heard that,” Kite calls from the bowels of the kitchen. “It’s not my fault I have six older sisters who never let me in the kitchen.”

  Carrie rolls her eyes as she leans in to whisper, “Six older sisters. Can you imagine? I bet they used him as a dress-up doll when he was little.”

  “I heard that, too,” Kite says, proving his hearing really is something extraordinary. “And no, they didn’t, but I did have to wear their clothes until I was too big to fit into them.” He emerges from the kitchen, two containers of cobbler held lightly in one hand. “My mother couldn’t see the point in wasting good money on boy clothes since I was the last baby on the docket.”

  Carrie giggles, and I smile as I say, “Aw. I would pay good money to see those baby pictures. You in ruffles.”

  “Stay on my good side, and I’ll show them to you for free someday,” he says with a wink that sends warmth flooding through my chest. He turns to Carrie with a mock glare and adds, “But not you, Trouble. I’d never hear the end of it from you.”

  “Correct,” Carrie cheerfully agrees, pressing up onto tiptoe to peck my cheek. “See you tomorrow, Sunshine. Text me if you want to chat later. I’m just hanging at home tonight, hiding from my miserable roommates and the cockroaches. No money to go catch a band until next payday.”

  “Will do. Get home safe,” I say, sweet anticipation dumping into my bloodstream as she departs, leaving me alone with Kite.

  It’s my favorite time of the day, the fifteen minutes it takes to walk to the place where our paths diverge on the way to our separate train stations. I look forward to it from the moment my eyes creak open in the morning.

  There are days, when I wake up aching and feverish in a nest of sweaty covers and roll over to be sick in the bucket by my nightstand, when this walk is the only thing that gets me out of bed. This walk is the lifeline I cling to as I force my throbbing joints into the shower to sit on the stool Mom bought for me a few months ago when she realized I no longer had the strength to stand under the stream until my meds had kicked in.

  Unless something changes, there will come a day—a day not far from this one—when I will no longer have the strength to make this walk, either. But it isn’t today. Today I am still alive and upright, and my meds are holding the pain at bay enough for me to enjoy the way my blood pumps faster as Kite rests a warm hand on my shoulder and asks, “You ready, boss lady?”

  I nod, beaming up at him. “I am. Just let me grab my jacket and I’ll meet you out front.”

  I make my way slowly to my office, conserving my energy, wanting to save it all for the walk through the misty spring afternoon with Kite.

  I may not have many afternoons like these left, but that isn’t a reason for sadness. It’s a reason to savor, to treasure, to soak up every minute of sweetness and pack it away for a day when I’ll need good memories more than ever.

  Chapter 2

  Wren

  Outside the air smells like cedar and the salty, fish-and-earthworm scent of the bay. I know a lot of people find the smell offensive, but I don’t mind it. It reminds me of home. My parents’ house was once three miles inland—back when it belonged to Grandma Frame—but after the Meltdown, they ended up with beachfront property.

  Pops jokes that someday I’ll inherit a houseboat, but Mom doesn’t find that funny. Sea rise, even the slightly slower creep of the past decade, scares her.

  “So how did the hike go today?” I ask Kite as we step onto the sidewalk outside the shelter gates. “Lance and Carrie seemed to enjoy it, but I know you had some of our problem children along. Were Tawny and Gage respectful?”

  Kite shrugs, the dimple in his right cheek popping as he says, “Define respectful…”

  A soft huff of laughter escapes my lips. “This isn’t funny, Kite. I have to get those two on board. I can’t protect them forever. If they don’t at least pretend to try, the head of the shelter network is going to make me free up those beds.”

  Kite’s grin fades as his chin dips closer to his chest. “I hear you. It’s just hard… I know what it’s like to get stuck in bad habits. It can take a long time to change.”

  “I still can’t believe you used to beat people up for a living.” I take the arm he offers at the curb, holding on to his elbow as we cross the deserted street. There isn’t much traffic around here anymore. Since the schools and government buildings shut down due to flooding concerns, and half the local population relocated farther inland, there isn’t much reason to be in Rainier Beach.

  Not unless you’re a fisherman or part of the shelter system taking advantage of cheap real estate.

  “I did,” Kite says, his voice somber. “I can’t say I ever truly enjoyed it, but it gave me a sense of control. Being able to beat the hell out of anyone who threatened me or the people I cared about made me feel safe. And when you grow up like these kids, scared out of your mind, abused by the people who are supposed to be protecting you, safety is important. Safety is life. You know?”

  I nod, brow furrowing. “I know. I mean, I don’t know, but I can imagine.”

  “I know you can.” Kite’s free hand covers mine, holding my fingers in the crook of his arm as we step onto the curb on the other side of the street, making my heart soar a little higher.

  He’s touched me like this before, but even little signs that he likes being with me as much as I love being with him make me giddy with hope.

  “So maybe you can talk to Bill,” Kite continues, “encourage him to give Tawny and Gage a little more time. Yeah, their behavior isn’t great, but violence is what kept them alive to find a place where they get three square meals and a clean bed to sleep in. It’s going to be hard for them to let that go. Even if they decide they want to.”

  “That’s the part that worr
ies me,” I confess. “That they might not decide they want to in time. I can definitely appeal to Bill’s better nature regarding the fights and bullying, but if Tawny and Gage are still openly hostile to the Church of Humanity movement, it’s going to be an uphill battle to convince him to keep them around.”

  Kite grunts softly but doesn’t respond.

  He’s quiet all the way up Potter street, past the black cottonwoods bursting with new leaves and the smoky, green, balsamic smell of bud break, past the creepy abandoned Bowman mansion where we usually take a moment to stop and stare, just to give ourselves a delicious case of the chills.

  Soon we’re nearly halfway to our separation point, and there’s no longer any denying that the silence has become uncomfortable.

  I pause at the end of the block, sliding my hand from his arm as I turn to face him beneath the trees of heaven, twin goliaths that reach splayed fingers toward the sky above a bungalow still sporting high-water marks from the last time the bay flooded two years ago. “Did I say something wrong?” I ask.

  Kite sighs, meeting my gaze briefly before his falls to the sidewalk. “No, of course not.”

  I stuff my hands into my jacket pockets. “Well, that was convincing.”

  He grins again as he glances up, sending another jolt of electricity through me as our eyes connect. “Sorry. I just…” He shakes his head as his smile dims. “Never mind. It’s not a big deal.”

  “No, please,” I insist. “I want to know what’s on your mind. I like your mind. It’s a smart, interesting mind, and it often gives very good advice.”

  Kite’s gaze warms. “I like your mind, too. I like how open it is to people who don’t think the way you do or believe the things you believe.”

  I nod, slowly, then picking up speed as the pieces fall into place. “I see.”

  “Do you?” His dark brows climb higher. “I’m not saying the beliefs of your movement shouldn’t be presented to the kids as an option. Faith is important, and it was one of the things that got me out of hell when I was going through it, but there are lots of different things in the world worth believing in. And making a safe place to sleep contingent on signing a pledge to join the C of H seems pretty harsh. And manipulative. And not what church is supposed to be about.”

  I curl my hands into fists in my jacket, hunching my shoulders against the cool wind picking up off the bay. “I know. And I agree with you. I mean, our beliefs have always made sense to me—humanity coming together beyond religious and cultural differences to put each other first seems like a no-brainer if we ever want to have peace on this planet—but I was raised in the C of H since I was a toddler. I don’t know how I’d feel if I were coming to it as a teen who’s been living on the streets, or as someone with strong religious beliefs they feel compelled to put ahead of the movement’s teachings.”

  I glance back the way we came, skin prickling as I share something I know I shouldn’t with someone outside the movement. “Honestly, a lot of the elders are on board with waiving the pledge. They say it makes our church look like the cult some people say we are, and that’s bad for PR. But the motion hasn’t passed committee, and I’m not sure what to do about that. I wrote a letter, but I’m too young to run for a place on the elder council, and even if I weren’t…”

  Kite lifts one big hand, gently smoothing my hair behind my ear, securing it against the breeze. “It’s okay. You do the best you can. That’s all any of us can do.”

  “I just wish I had more energy,” I say, the words out before I can stop them. I never talk about my condition with Kite. I don’t want to remind him that I’m not the shiniest apple in the barrel. Fair to him or not, I want him to pick me.

  At least for a little while.

  His jaw tightens and something that looks a lot like rage flickers across his features before the expression is gone, but it still leaves me speechless. I’m so shocked by that glimpse of something other than the gentleness I’ve always seen in Kite that I flinch as he cups my face in his hands and says, “Things can change, and they will change, Wren. I promise you. As long as there’s breath in my body, you’re not going to die. You’ve just got to be ready when the time comes.”

  I tip my head back, bringing my lips terrifyingly, thrillingly close to Kite’s as my eyes go wide. I swallow hard, thoughts swarming in a mixture of confusion and longing. “What are you talking about? Ready for what?”

  His brow furrows as he searches my face with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. “I’ve already said things I shouldn’t. Just promise me you’ll keep that beautiful mind of yours open, okay?”

  “Kite, I don’t—”

  “Do you trust me, Wren?” he asks, using my given name for a second time in just a few minutes, making me realize how rarely he uses it and how rarely I’ve seen him with this kind of fire in his eyes.

  “I…” I hold his gaze, but no matter how deep I look, I only see concern. Caring. Maybe something even stronger than caring. Maybe something close to the way I feel when I’m in his arms and the world suddenly makes more sense than it did before.

  I exhale, heart slowing as I say, “Yes, I do. I trust you.”

  His shoulders sag with a relief that makes me feel like I’ve done something much more important than answer a question. “Good. Keep trusting me, Bird Girl, and I’m going to show you a whole new world. A world where you can be the powerhouse you are on the inside.”

  The backs of my eyes begin to sting, but I’m smiling when I say, “There’s no cure, Kite. I might never go back into remission, let alone get better.”

  He pauses, seeming to debate something silently before he whispers, “But then again, you might.” Before I can assure him that hope is a lost cause in this case, he leans down and presses his lips to mine, and I’m the thing that’s lost.

  My eyes slide closed as my heart lights up, each warm, sweet brush of his lips against mine filling my body with magic. Electricity floods my nerve endings, and my pulse races so fast I know I would fall over if Kite let me go.

  But he doesn’t let me go. He wraps me up in his strong arms, hugging me close as he lifts me off my feet, bringing our lips onto a level playing field as he takes charge of holding us both steady. With a soft sob of gratitude for this kiss, this miracle, this moment of feeling like the luckiest girl in Seattle, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him with everything in me, not caring if I use up all the energy I’ll need to get home.

  I’m always so careful—I’ve had to be in order to keep working long after most people with my condition would have taken to their beds for good—but I don’t want to be careful right now. I want to be alive and wanted and on fire. I want to burn with this man who makes me feel things I never have before.

  In just a few moments, Kite banishes every teenage kiss and every lukewarm make-out session from my memory, leaving nothing but his smoky, sexy, earthy taste in my mouth and his campfire and almond scent swirling through my head.

  Finally, I have to pull away, coming up for air with a gasp that makes Kite rumble a soft, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to suffocate you.”

  Biting my lip as I point the toes still dangling off the sidewalk, I tighten my grip on his shoulders. “I don’t mind. Air is overrated.”

  He grins, his dark eyes alight with the same fire that’s smoldering inside me. “You like me more than air?”

  “I definitely like you more than air.” A nervous laugh escapes my lips as I add, “I’ve liked you more than air for a while.”

  “I’ve liked you more than air for a while, too.” His tongue sweeps across his bottom lip, making me long for another taste of him as he warns, “Don’t look at me like that, Bird Girl.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you’re hungry,” he whispers, sending heat and a thick, achy feeling spreading between my hips, down to tingle across my thighs.

  Before I can respond, the hollow notes of a wooden flute echo through the afternoon, and Kite curses. “Sorry,” he says, setting me back on
my feet. “I have to take this.”

  “That’s fine.” I sway but recover my balance fairly quickly considering how dizzy with lust I was a moment ago.

  That’s what that feeling was—lust. It’s not something I’ve experienced before, at least not with someone else present.

  Back when I was in remission, there were nights when I would lie awake in the dark, fantasizing about the men in the books I read. I would fall into imaginary trysts with heroes from fantastical foreign worlds who would do anything to protect the women they love—slay dragons, battle armies of the undead, quest to the ends of the earth and back again to retrieve a cursed treasure—but none of the boys I casually dated in real life ever made me feel like this.

  As Kite turns away, his broad shoulders hunched against the wind as he mutters softly into the phone, I realize with a zip of shock that I would very much like to climb him like a tree. I would like to climb him, wrap my legs around his waist, and devour him from the mouth down. I want his hands all over me, my hands all over him, and his mouth everywhere.

  Absolutely everywhere…

  For the first time in my life, I’m dying to be skin to skin, breath to breath, heart to heart, with a real live person. It’s so dizzying that I miss the first several moments of Kite’s conversation. It isn’t until he softly hisses, “Yes, I understand, relax,” and abruptly ends the call without signing off that I start making sense of words again.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask as he shoves his cell into his back pocket.

  Kite shakes his head hard enough to send his silky hair sliding across his shoulders. “Nothing. Just work stuff.”

  My brows lift. “From the shelter?”

  “No, my other work.” He shoots me what looks like a forced smile. “I do some part-time stuff for a family business. That was my uncle, wondering why I’m not in the office yet.”