Moon Tortured (Sky Brooks Series Book 1)

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Authors: McKenzie Hunter
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wasn’t sure how reassuring that was. I couldn’t decide what bothered me more: knowing that Winter, who hated me, could single-handedly take out three vampires, or that the vampires were getting desperate and bold.
     

     
    After I showered, I laid back on the bed staring at the ceiling. The vampires were getting desperate. I had no idea what they were desperate about, but it involved me. Fear replaced my anxiety and was wreaking havoc with my respiratory system. I panicked. The short gasps weren’t enough to supply my body oxygen. I lurched up into the seated position forcing my lungs to inflate. I took several long, deep breaths.
    “You never learned to control your wolf. You let it control you.” Startled, I followed the sound of the voice. Ethan emerged from the shadows. Noticeably agitated, he paced back and forth. His eyes were daggers, keenly focused on me. His tension and anger pulsed through the room in waves, an overwhelming surge that stifled me.
    He stopped and leaned against the dresser, awaiting a response. It didn’t seem to warrant one. He was stating the obvious. Instead of answering him, I responded with a blank stare fixed on the door and waited for him to get the hint and leave.
    “What, have you not gained control of your hearing either?” he barked impatiently. I looked down, avoiding his watchful leer.
    “My hearing is just fine,” I responded stiffly. “I’ve always been afraid of that part of me. It’s a miserable inconvenience that I have to deal with each month during full moons and I chose not to deal with it any more than I had to.” Inconvenience? My period was an inconvenience. This was a hostile takeover of my life. Every decision and every aspect of my life revolved around my wolf, especially since I experienced several unexpected changes brought on by loss of emotional control. Those often ended with my mother giving me several painful shots with a tranquilizer until I went down.
    He pushed himself up from the dresser, walked over to me and leaned in closely as he inhaled then frowned. His face was still just inches from my neck. If I were just a tad braver, I would have pushed him away. Keeping his eyes fixed on me, he took several steps back, studying me with avid interest. “You don’t smell like a were-animal and the vampires enter your home without an invitation as though you were one of theirs.” His eyes narrowed to slits. “Why is that?”
    I couldn’t begin to understand why he was interrogating me with questions that I couldn’t possibly answer. Did he think I miraculously acquired information between the day I arrived and now? Refusing to give him the satisfaction of my frustration, I remained silent as cold, unforgiving eyes from a stone face glared back at me. “I don’t like it,” he stated.
    I lifted my chin with forced confidence, “You are welcome to go dislike it somewhere else,” I offered.
    “Not before I have answers. What exactly are you?”
    “What?”
    “What? Are? You?”
    “What answer do you need to make it easier for you to leave?” I stated impatiently.
    The haughty look quickly disappeared. “If I staked you, would you start reversion?”
    Steven explained to me that vampires aren’t killed by a stake like in every vampire flick imaginable. Once staked, a vampire putrefies and reverts physically to its dead state. The body slowly decays and hardens, becoming mummified. If they aren’t decapitated during reversion and are allowed to feed, then they return to their natural state. Then you have a very angry and vengeful vampire to deal with.
    “I am not sure. As a general social rule, people don’t go around staking people. It’s really frowned upon in mainstream society. But I suspect that it would be the same as with you—pain and lots of blood. Sometimes I cry when I get hurt. So maybe I would cry a little too,” I smarted back.
    When he laughed, it was a dark abrasive rumble. “Something about you is wrong. Off. I don’t

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