Page 65 of Moon Kissed

Sighing, I plopped down on the rickety chair in my dress made of dirty tree droppings, and settled in for a long night.

I BOLTED UPRIGHT ANDtipped the chair, falling flat on my ass. Groaning, I shoved up on my feet—looking around.

My sweep took half a millisecond and confirmed what my nose was telling me—Nia was gone.

The jail cell didn’t have a window, so I couldn’t tell what time of night or day it was, but my exhausted mind felt clear enough that I guess I slept for several solid hours. It had to be sometime around early morning.

Nia’s not here, and that’s good,I thought, slipping out the door.She must’ve gone to find a friend like I suggested.

I truly hoped she had. I may have been on a homicidal mission to slaughter a few or more people, bring Wolf Nation crumbling to its knees, and crown myself as its first and unquestioning queen, but that didn’t mean I wanted people to be hurt.

Well, at least, not the people who weren’t standing in my way.

Making it to my room, I crossed to the rug and threw it off the floor. The loose wood came off easily, revealing my new hiding place for the list. I crossed Mason’s name off with a satisfaction that was obscene even for me.

Killing him the way I did was not how I wanted it to go down, including accidentally killing him in front of my fates.

“Oh, well.” I dropped the paper back, writing him off metaphorically and mentally. “Couldn’t have happened to a sweeter guy. Have fun burning in hell, bitch.”

Getting up, I got my stolen pajamas out of the wardrobe, hopped in the shower, and washed the whole night off me.

My bruises and burns were all healed. My headache from my sleepless night was gone, and Mason was dead. The night started off shitty for more than just me, but it ended up okay. Especially between me and my fates.

I wanted nothing to do with that band of irritatingly hot alphas and omega. They were distractions I didn’t need, and if they couldn’t be useful, they could stay out of the way. But surprisingly, last night they were useful, and shockingly, it seemed as they stepped aside and allowed me to help Nia, they were silently agreeing to stay out of the way.

“Good.” Climbing into bed, I crawled over to the other side and riffled through my nightstand. Carefully, I drew the old jewelry box out and placed it on my lap. “I know you said the best day of my life would be meeting the mate that was perfect for me in every way, but you were wrong, lady.” I smiled at Mom’s picture, matching her beaming grin.

It amazed me somedays how much I looked like her. We had the same umber skin; same eerily light, golden eyes; same thick, curly dark locks; and the same crooked smile. The only thing my dad kicked in were my sticky-outty clown ears that looked like two open car doors whenever I pulled my hair back.Thanks, Dad.

“But that’s okay,” I continued. “Not even you could’ve predicted what massive assholes they would be. Even Luame was shocked by their massive assholery.”

I heaved a sigh. “But I’m talking to the wrong picture.” I set down the photo of Mom on her wedding day—resplendent in a blush-pink gown with an illusion neckline. Most werewolves didn’t bother with an official wedding day because the mating day did the trick. But Daddy always said he loved her so much, he married her twice.

Yeah, my dad was always saying sweet stuff like that to and about Mom. She was the only person on earth who tapped into his soft side.

“But I bet on this day, you wanted to kick his soft side up his backside.” I stifled a laugh as I picked up my second favorite picture of Mom. Ratty hair, dark bags under her eyes, and spit-up on her sweatshirt to offset the blood. Clutched in her arms was a screaming, kicking baby me with half-changed claws where my hands should be, and blood on my mouth after taking a baby-sized chomp out of her mid-breastfeed.

Werewolves were born with the shifting but not the control. Let’s just say for wolf moms who choose to breastfeed, they are never so thankful for their speed-healing as they are those first six months. Even so, Mom’s raging, head-exploding glare wasn’t for the little hellion in her arms. It was for the laughing bastard who stopped to take a picture of her instead of helping.

Dad said Mom kicked the entire changing table over on top of him, and stormed out while he flailed and shouted for help.

I burst out laughing then just as I did the first, second, and third time I heard that story. I didn’t always use to be the weirdo who talked to old pictures, but Mom was gone now and my dad... Well, my dad was gone in his own way too. Pictures were all I had left.

“Pictures, and these,” I whispered, taking out the letters and holding them close to my heart.

After the first vampire assassination attempt on my mother failed, she started writing me letters to read in case something happened to her. She dated them for different birthdays and times in my life, but one lonely night, I opened them all—needing her love and wisdom more than I ever needed anything.

She wrote me a letter for my sixteenth, eighteenth, twenty-first, twenty-fifth, and thirtieth birthday. She wrote me a letter for my mating, for becoming a mother, and even for the day I graduated Corvin Academy.

“But, strangely, there was no letter for what to do after murdering my fate Castor Tahan, abandoning Wolf Nation, dashing their hopes for the new golden age of wolves, returning under a cloud of hate and suspicion, and taking up a homicidal mission of revenge that will end with me bringing Wolf Nation to its knees while I stand high above them as their merciless and dictatorial queen.

“No, there’s no letter for that,” I said softly as I took out the picture of Mom on her academy graduation day. She graduated top of her beta class because of course she did. My mom was never anything less than the best. “But I have a feeling you would approve, because who better than you knows that when it’s all going wrong and a douchebag stands there laughing instead of helping you... the only option is to bring it all crashing down on his head.”

Chapter Six

Nia was waiting for me outside my room the next morning. Her nails were long and painted. Her hair styled into a bun. Her cardigan and matching skirt washed and smelling strongly of jasmine, and her expression bland. You wouldn’t have known anything happened to her the night before, which is what she said she wanted, so I got the hint, and didn’t bring it up.

“All I’m going to say is this,” I told her, shutting my door closed behind me. “I don’t know how much in my control this will be, but as much as I can... I’ll stay out of detention.”

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