Page 98 of Marked By Moonlight

She heard her name as if called from a great distance and vaguely recognized Gideon’s voice.

“Claire! Claire, fight it! Get the gun,” he shouted.

Staggering toward the gun, she lifted it in her hands and turned, her gaze finding Gideon. Clutched in Cyril’s giant paws, his eyes met hers. She watched Cyril’s nails grow, stretching into huge talons that dug into Gideon’s face, drawing blood.

“Pull the trigger!”

Cyril looked back and forth between her and Gideon, the slow turn of his head unhurried, unconcerned. He didn’t see her as a threat.

She doubled over, clutching her belly at the sudden cramping.

“Claire!” Gideon cried out. “Shoot him!”

She shook her head savagely.

Straightening, she willed herself to follow his command, but the hunger was staggering, washing over her in hot, undulating waves, increasing with every second. She wanted to fling the gun down, tear off her skin, and…

Suddenly, she caught sight of Nina, stirring into consciousness. Every one of Claire’s heightened senses zeroed in on her, aware of every breath, of the rapid beating of her heart, of the sweet blood rushing just beneath the surface of her warm skin. She looked so… tempting, smelled so sweet.

Claire no longer saw Nina. She saw food. And she knew the blood would taste delectable. She could almost imagine it flooding her mouth, rushing through her teeth and over her tongue, its warm nectar sliding down the back of her throat. Saliva pooled inside her mouth. Claire couldn’t resist. She took a step toward her.

“Miss Morgan?” Nina whimpered, scuttling farther away along the wall. Claire stopped, squeezing her eyes shut, battling the urges that washed over her, threatening to consume and swallow her whole. She flexed her hands, startled to feel the dig of claws cutting into one palm… and the forgotten gun in the other.

“Claire!” Gideon shouted, his voice reaching out to her from the fog. “Claire, don’t! Claire, I love you! God, please, don’t!”

She lifted the gun, gazed at it in her hand. From somewhere deep inside her, she found the will to spin back around and level the gun on Cyril.

Cyril dropped Gideon to his feet and faced her, his silver eyes gleaming, his claws contracting open and shut at his sides. Releasing a low growl, he circled her, clearly no longer confident of her intentions.

He lunged.

She squeezed the trigger, uncertain if the anguished howl splitting the air belonged to her or Cyril. Claire fell to her knees the same moment Cyril collapsed before her.

Head bowed, chest heaving with great swallows of air, she dropped the gun and watched her hands gradually reduce to their normal size. The wiry hair receded back into her pores and her heart ceased to thump so violently in her chest.

Suddenly, she was caught up in Gideon’s arms, crushed in a tight, suffocating hold. Closing her eyes, she reveled in it.

“You did it,” he whispered against her hair. “God, I don’t know how…” His voice faded on a sigh.

Tears slipped from her closed eyelids. She felt the warm wetness roll down her cheeks. Yes, she had done it. She had ignored the hunger, ignored the pull, and mastered the beast inside her.

A low growl interrupted the moment and they both turned, suddenly remembering Darius pinned to the post. Only it wasn’t Darius any longer. It was a fully shifted lycan, larger and more frightening than Claire could ever have imagined. Whereas Cyril had been reddish brown, Darius was black. A huge black-furred monster even her nightmares couldn’t have summoned.

“Oh. My. God.” Nina’s hushed voice floated from behind them where she pressed herself into the wall—knees tucked to her chest—and once again passed out.

“That’s one big mother,” Gideon marveled beside her.

“Big?” Claire echoed, head falling back to take in all of Darius. As a man he easily stood six feet tall, but now, fully shifted, he was closer to seven. With a howl of rage, he wrenched the pipe from his chest.

Gideon dove for the gun Claire had dropped and swung around in one fluid motion. Frowning, he aimed and muttered, “Sorry, my friend.”

Claire closed her eyes and looked away, sick at the prospect of Darius’s death. With a soft prayer on her lips that his soul would be granted a second chance—that he would receive some chance at redemption—she waited for the end.

Gideon curled his finger around the trigger, heart heavy with the burden of his task.

Darius had known the sacrifice in coming here, had known the odds, and had taken the risk for Claire’s sake. Still, it didn’t make it any easier.

Suddenly, the muffled zing of a silencer cut through the air. Then another. And another. Gideon thrust Claire behind him.

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