Blue Moon: Blood Moon Trilogy #3 Read Online Free
Author: A.D. Ryan
months, especially.
My stomach growled, and I glanced over at the dog dishes that still sat by my cage door. Yes, I briefly contemplated eating the somewhat spoiled meat. My stomach growled again, and I wondered if my digestion would keep me from getting sick. I mean, dogs ate anything and everything, right? And, technically , I was part wolf, which was in the same class of species.
Groaning, I pressed my forehead into my knees; I couldn’t believe I was even contemplating it.
Hunger-driven, I scurried across the room and picked up a slice of the funky smelling meat and shoved it in my mouth. I instantly gagged and spit it out. There was no way I could even force that shit down. I would die before I did…
That was when I realized I very well might die in my prison.
“No,” I told myself firmly. “You can’t think like that.” I tried to channel the wolf; she was usually stronger and more confident, but even she was cowering somewhere deep in my subconscious, and I couldn’t seem to reach her. Had that part of me given up? Could I do this without her? I’d finally just accepted what I was and what this life entailed; I needed her. We were one and the same. We made each other stronger.
I stood up, trying to hold onto what little confidence I had left. I inspected the bars of my cell from a safe distance. I tried to look at it like a puzzle. The mechanics of the door were no different than a regular prison cell—something I was familiar with given my career choice in Arizona. A large metal pin was placed in the hinges, holding the door on. Realizing this, I glanced around my cell. Maybe if I could find something thin and strong enough, I could push it out. I could probably tear some of my over-sized shirt off and wrap it around my hands to lessen the burning.
I began searching my cell, hoping to find something, but I came up empty. Angry and frustrated, I balled up my fist and slammed it into the stone wall. My rage continued to build, reminding me of the day of David’s funeral when I destroyed the tile in my parents’ shower. Like then, I couldn’t stop, and the wall chipped away, the shards falling around my bare feet. White hot pain shot up my arm with every blow, and blood flowed freely from the cuts that split my skin.
With every punch, I thought of the events that brought me here. I thought of the night of my birthday, when Nick showed up unannounced. Then the night in the park when I was attacked by a wolf. The night of my first transformation came next, and I surprisingly recalled more of the details. Nick telling me what I had become replayed in Technicolor surround sound. My back muscles burned, and each punch became more aggressive when I recalled the night that David died. So much had happened, and just when I thought I had overcome all of that and accepted this life, something threw a wrench in the gears, grinding my progress to a staggering halt.
Finding out Nick had been the one to turn me was that wrench.
In the moments that followed that revelation, I felt betrayed. He let me go on thinking it was Jackson who’d attacked me. Those first few weeks, the tension between Jackson and I was palpable. Thinking about how I used to look his way or treat him caused a ball of guilt to slam around in my belly. Sure, we had been able to find some common ground when he told me the story of how he’d stumbled into Pack life, and we’d grown as close as siblings, but…
Actually, thinking about it, should that even matter? How I acted toward Jackson was in the past. True, while I’d been misled about the details of that night in Chaparral Park, Jackson didn’t seem too upset by it. He knew I blamed him, and he didn’t stop trying to pursue a friendship with me. Did that mean I should just forgive Nick for lying all this time? I wasn’t sure. What he did was wrong. It was deceitful. But if I really thought back to our time together, he was right; there was never a right moment to tell me. I
My stomach growled, and I glanced over at the dog dishes that still sat by my cage door. Yes, I briefly contemplated eating the somewhat spoiled meat. My stomach growled again, and I wondered if my digestion would keep me from getting sick. I mean, dogs ate anything and everything, right? And, technically , I was part wolf, which was in the same class of species.
Groaning, I pressed my forehead into my knees; I couldn’t believe I was even contemplating it.
Hunger-driven, I scurried across the room and picked up a slice of the funky smelling meat and shoved it in my mouth. I instantly gagged and spit it out. There was no way I could even force that shit down. I would die before I did…
That was when I realized I very well might die in my prison.
“No,” I told myself firmly. “You can’t think like that.” I tried to channel the wolf; she was usually stronger and more confident, but even she was cowering somewhere deep in my subconscious, and I couldn’t seem to reach her. Had that part of me given up? Could I do this without her? I’d finally just accepted what I was and what this life entailed; I needed her. We were one and the same. We made each other stronger.
I stood up, trying to hold onto what little confidence I had left. I inspected the bars of my cell from a safe distance. I tried to look at it like a puzzle. The mechanics of the door were no different than a regular prison cell—something I was familiar with given my career choice in Arizona. A large metal pin was placed in the hinges, holding the door on. Realizing this, I glanced around my cell. Maybe if I could find something thin and strong enough, I could push it out. I could probably tear some of my over-sized shirt off and wrap it around my hands to lessen the burning.
I began searching my cell, hoping to find something, but I came up empty. Angry and frustrated, I balled up my fist and slammed it into the stone wall. My rage continued to build, reminding me of the day of David’s funeral when I destroyed the tile in my parents’ shower. Like then, I couldn’t stop, and the wall chipped away, the shards falling around my bare feet. White hot pain shot up my arm with every blow, and blood flowed freely from the cuts that split my skin.
With every punch, I thought of the events that brought me here. I thought of the night of my birthday, when Nick showed up unannounced. Then the night in the park when I was attacked by a wolf. The night of my first transformation came next, and I surprisingly recalled more of the details. Nick telling me what I had become replayed in Technicolor surround sound. My back muscles burned, and each punch became more aggressive when I recalled the night that David died. So much had happened, and just when I thought I had overcome all of that and accepted this life, something threw a wrench in the gears, grinding my progress to a staggering halt.
Finding out Nick had been the one to turn me was that wrench.
In the moments that followed that revelation, I felt betrayed. He let me go on thinking it was Jackson who’d attacked me. Those first few weeks, the tension between Jackson and I was palpable. Thinking about how I used to look his way or treat him caused a ball of guilt to slam around in my belly. Sure, we had been able to find some common ground when he told me the story of how he’d stumbled into Pack life, and we’d grown as close as siblings, but…
Actually, thinking about it, should that even matter? How I acted toward Jackson was in the past. True, while I’d been misled about the details of that night in Chaparral Park, Jackson didn’t seem too upset by it. He knew I blamed him, and he didn’t stop trying to pursue a friendship with me. Did that mean I should just forgive Nick for lying all this time? I wasn’t sure. What he did was wrong. It was deceitful. But if I really thought back to our time together, he was right; there was never a right moment to tell me. I
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