Page 45 of Fire on the Moon

Chapter Fourteen

Fear zinged through Francesca. What she was seeing and hearing made her feel like she was standing in a cold wind, unable to stop shivering.

Raising her voice, she shouted, “Zane!” At the same time she gripped his good shoulder and shook him. To her vast relief, the chanting stopped and his eyes snapped open. At first it seemed like he had been pulled from the middle of some scene that wasn’t part of reality. Then the look in his eyes changed, and he focused on her.

“Francesca?” he croaked.

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“You . . . you were chanting something. It sounded like something from a cult. I was frightened,” she said, the words pouring out of her as she watched his expression.

His face contorted as though someone had pounded a fist into his midsection.

“But you woke me before I finished?” he asked urgently.

“I guess. You stopped.”

Now relief rearranged his features.

She put her hand on his good shoulder, trying to reassure him, although she wasn’t sure of what.

“I was trying to change,” he rasped.

“Change what.”

“Shit. That’s the last thing I should have said.”

“Zane, I don’t understand any of this.”

“I know.” He dragged in a breath and let it out.

“Are you in . . . some kind of cult?”

She waited for him to laugh off the question, but he seemed to be considering it.

“No,” he finally whispered. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he only gave a quick shake of his head.

She swung her gaze toward the window, seeing the sky starting to turn from black to gray. “You should have another antibiotic.”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll be right back.” She hurried away. Something strange had just happened, but she couldn’t figure out what it was.

In the galley, she got the antibiotic plus more bottled water and brought them back.

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When Francesca left, Zane struggled to prop himself up on the pillows. Damn. He knew what had happened. He was wounded, and he was having trouble controlling his inner wolf. He was lucky that Francesca had woken him up before he’d finished the chant and she found an animal in bed.

He knew something similar had happened to his brother when he’d been shot escaping from a drug lab in western Maryland. After Knox had told him about it, he’d laughed. He wasn’t laughing now.

He tensed as Francesca came back, looking worried.

Clearing his throat, he offered, “Sorry if I scared you.”

“I guess you were having a nightmare.”

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