Forbidden Moon

The jacket was torn away and the nails that scraped her back had her arching upwards, her breasts towards the ground as the material was literally ripped from her. Tears sprung to her eyes but she knew she was fighting for her life and refused to let them fall. Realizing that the motion gave her some leeway and she used it to twist and bring her hand upwards to try to scratch at the creatures eyes that still held her.

He tossed the jacket to Boyd, who grabbed his screaming pack mate and jerked him to the ground. His strength over the other werewolf was remarkable as he tossed him like a pile of rags to the pavement and applied the shredded cloth of Gloria's jacket to the wound. The blood stopped slowly, several quiet moments echoing their heartbeats and breaths down the alleys of the riverfront.

When the screaming stopped, Boyd gripped the thin, leather belt that he'd been wearing as a fashion accessory and pulled it out of his pants. The pants didn't waver a bit and continued to have that same painted-on look that Keadon's had. He used the belt to tighten the shreds of jacket over the large werewolf's wound, which simply whimpered and eyed Boyd with a distant look of fear in his amber eyes. Boyd rocked the larger werewolf slowly in his arms, muttering quietly between glances of pure malice towards Gloria, that roguish, Irish smile faded in favor of pure, controlled anger.

Keadon batted her hands away as if they were merely a nuisance and jerked Gloria to her feet and started her walking towards one of the alley ways, his cheek pressed tight against her hair, hard enough to tilt her neck at a painful angle.

The attack didn't last long as she was yanked to her feet. Dark brown eyes glanced towards the two men as she was dragged along. Noting the look her features twisted in anger. Her voice held that heavy Hispanic touch as she spoke.

"You could have just let me go. It's your own damn fault." She didn't get to say anything else or see anything else as the hand in her hair yanked her head back and those tears she had been holding spilled down her cheeks as the pain in her wrist throbbed in time with the pain that was spreading through her scalp and echoing down her back where the pristine white shirt was ripped and colored with the lines of crimson.

"You'll pay for that one," Keadon said quietly, the growl still evident in his voice.

She hissed in anger despite her tears or the pain. "No, you'll pay for it. They know where I am and they will come looking with more than just a single can when I don't report back in." She cradled her wrist upwards and between her breasts to keep the injury as far away from the creature as she could. It left her with only her off hand, her left hand to use and that wasn't much against a pissed off werewolf.

"Theh won' be enough uh ya for them ta find," he said in a guttural tone, his normally eloquent speech slurred with anger, so much so that his accent was more richly evident in his voice. They'd walked ten yards or so down the alleyway before he pushed her into one of the abandoned buildings, though the interior was much different than one might expect of an abandoned factory. The husks of giant machines were still there, old paint cans and the like strewn about the floor, but most of the clutter was packed into corners. The rest of the place was lit by candles, large candelabras standing in a circle at the center of the room.

As she was pulled into the warehouse, she blinked her eyes against those points of light. The tears she was trying to banish making the flames glimmer. She took in what she could of her surroundings.

Around and between the candelabras were various pieces of worn, torn furniture and a bit deeper into the shadows at one corner of the somewhat large room, lay four stacks of mattresses, piled two at a time with old sheets and pillows strewn across them. Three of the beds were uninhabited, but one was still being used.

The movement there was caught by Keadon's alert gaze as he checked the room to insure that they were, indeed, safe. The only visible portions of Micheal were his back and buttocks as he thrust in time with a soft whimpering that would have come from the woman beneath him, though only her thighs were visible as they spread around his own, one bent at a thirty degree angle with a dainty foot pressing hard against the mattress, as if she were trying to arch her back. He knew well enough that it was pain that had the woman mobile, not pleasure as one might have thought at first glance.

Gloria heard the sounds of flesh striking flesh above her own breathing and when they moved past the candles and her vision cleared she saw what was making the sounds.

Keadon stopped Gloria within viewing range of the bed, moving around one of the candelabras so that the scene on the bed could be viewed more clearly, without a glare of light to blind any onlookers. The woman was heavy in places that she should be, with only a bit of weight around her center to mark her as one of the more well fed citizens of the city. Her full breasts bounced with each thrust of Micheal's hips, a thrusting that didn't cease as he turned his pale, amber gaze towards where Keadon stood with a handful of Gloria's hair. Michael's skin was dark, even in the light of the candles, a deep olive that would have made his descent more Mediterranean than the other wolves. His eyes were the same color however, glinting with delight as he gave the two a wicked smile and thrust harder into the woman beneath him, drawing a cry from her bruised lips. Her voice was strained, as if she'd been screaming for a long time and simply didn't have the voice for it any longer.

Gloria tried to turn her head away from the sight. Not wanting to witness the creature having sex with some unknown victim but the hand in her hair didn't give her that luxury. She watched as the creature turned towards her and gave a leering grin. If she got out of this, she would remember that face and see it melt off his bones before she was finished with him.

Keadon felt himself stir at the sight, his nostrils flaring with a deep inhale of sweaty sex as it permeated from the couple. His free hand drifted downward, fingers curling into the fabric of Gloria's skirt at the apex of her thighs, as he pulled her bottom in a dragging motion against his groin, the evidence of his arousal hard and firm against her.

She felt the hand that cupped her body, pulling it back against the hardness she couldn't help but feel pressing against the curves of her bottom. The small motions that rubbed her through the fabric combined with his words made her struggle against the hold that he had on her.

"We found her just a block from where we found you," he said, his voice an intimate, breathy sound that was like a flipped switch from the angry tones he'd used earlier. "She seemed terrified, already broken, so I let my second, Michael, have her." His fingers moved slightly against the fabric of Gloria's skirt, where he'd bunched it up against the apex of her thighs. "You weren't afraid, even here. It was intriguing, so I saved you for me."

"Afraid? Afraid of what? You?" She said with clear defiance as she brought that spiked heel upwards and then down sharply aiming for the instep of his foot. It wasn't much of a weapon but it was a weapon at her disposal. "Not in your wildest dreams, dog." She used that left elbow and brought it back sharply as if to take the wind from him. Doubting it would, but it might surprise him, her sudden attack. It might give her precious moments to break the hold that he had on her.

He hissed as she stomped down on his foot, the pain evident in the sound and then gone again as the hiss broke into a soft chuckle. His arms moved, his grip releasing her as she elbowed him in the stomach and made him double over from the force and surprise of the blow.

She stumbled forward as he released her and immediately turned so that her back was towards one of the walls and she could see the two on the mattresses and the man who stood before her. Her wrist was still held protectively against her chest and her other hand was in the form of a fist as it rested by her side. She gave a quick glance towards the door as if judging the distance and then looked back to Keadon. Several steps were taken in that direction as she increased the distance between herself and the others in the room.

It took him two deep breaths before he straightened and put pressure on his hurting foot. The foot was healing quickly and he would be able to walk without pain in the span of a minute. She was responding just how he'd envisioned of a woman that could walk into the riverfront fearless amongst vampires, exiles and werewolves. He wasn't sure if they'd realized werewolves existed in the riverfront and was sure that he didn't want the FBI to find his hiding spot. He held both hands out, his smile evident as he watched Gloria with a predatory interest.

"Right, if you were afraid, it wouldn' have been this much fun," he said in a taunting voice.

Michael seemed unaffected by the show, either pleasure or trust in his pack leader driving him to ignore the display and grip the woman's legs. He pulled them upward and rested them against the muscular plane of his chest, her calves bouncing against his upper chest as he gripped her by the waist and spread his thighs enough to press into her harder and faster. She let out a sound that sounded two parts weeping and one part moaning as her fingers gripped into the mattress hard enough to cause dimples in the sheets that covered the mattress. She wasn't trying to fight back, wasn't trying to get away and from the looks of her face, she had tried it and it hadn't worked very well. The thrusting continued from Michael, his breath hot and quick as he panted.

The woman whimpered as he leaned forward, his hips still bucking and driving himself into her as he spread her legs and rested his weight against her body, one of his hands moving to her bruised chin, which he captured with a thumb and forefinger. The woman parted her lips and bucked against him as he touched a painful spot, but let her head be turned towards where Keadon and Gloria stood. Her hands fluttered against his massive arms, muscles bulging with restraint, as he drew his tongue slowly across her skin, leaving unmarked flesh where bruises had mottled her skin previously.

The woman gasped as his tongue moved across the bruises, her body convulsing as a moan was torn from her throat, a ragged sound that was barely loud enough to be heard over the burning candles. Her body spasmed and then relaxed. The flush of heat to her face was enough to know that she'd climaxed and still had modesty enough to be embarrassed by it.

Gloria tried very hard to ignore the sounds of sex, of pleasure and of pain that were coming from that corner. It brought images of her own encounters to her mind and she was disgusted to find herself a little aroused by the scene. Seeing Keadon reminded her of her priorities and the number one was, to get out of this alive.

Her words were laced with that heavy accent that showed her temper as well as her mental state. Gone were the unemotional words and distance that she tried to keep from the world. "So let me get this straight. Your own kind are too much for you, or won't have anything to do with you. So you prey upon helpless women. Drunk, helpless women. You don't even have the guts to go and get them alone. You have to hunt together. So it took what, four of you to get this one human? Oh yeah, big bad werewolves aren't you. I am just trembling in my shoes over here." She took another two steps as she spoke. Continuing to move towards that door she had been drug through.

He nodded with a smile as she spoke, his hands out at his sides, fingers spread apart with only one more glance back to where Michael and the woman lay on the bed before giving Gloria his full attention. The front of his leather pants bulged with a shining hint of erection, the candlelight playing against the supple leather enough to show that he was, indeed, enjoying the night.

He inhaled deeply as he walked towards her, his pace steady and slow like a predator that would catch you no matter how fast you ran. "You have almost everything correct, with only a few exceptions. The woman isn't and was never drunk. She actually admitted to having a meeting tonight with someone. Given the traffic in this neighborhood, I can only assume that that someone was you," he said easily, his voice not sounding the least bit angry or frustrated.

The moon rode high and his power was a prickling essence beneath his skin. It was hungry and if he wasn't going to spill blood then lust was the only way of overcoming his hunger. He moved quickly, impossibly fast, around one of the candelabras and paused by the door such that she nearly bumped into him as she moved for it.

One moment he was there and the next, he wasn't. She turned and darted towards the door only to come up short as he stood between her and the exit. She narrowed her eyes at him in anger. She had played enough cat and mouse games inside of the interrogation room to know when she was being played with herself, inside or outside of it. She took a step back away from him, giving her a little more room. She realized that the display of speed was more for show than anything else. He was informing her that it was fruitless to attempt what she was doing. Not that it mattered. Gloria Velasquez didn't quit. She did what needed to be done, always, no matter the cost.

He took another deep breath while she'd been closer to him and shuddered lightly, the full muscles of his chest and stomach clenching and then relaxing. "And no, you are not trembling yet, but you will be," he said, one brow arching over his amber eyes as he licked his lips and whispered the rest such that she could hear it. "This is turning you on. I can smell it."

She felt a moment's pity for the woman who had wanted to speak with FBI. It was a bad choice of location to meet, not that Gloria had, had any sort of choice in the matter. The woman had named the location and the time and then hung up. The trace had located a public phone and nothing more. Now, they were both down here and in more trouble than Gloria cared to consider. She made a soft sound and glanced to the door beyond his stocky frame before looking back towards him.

"What you smell is your own stink. Try bathing," she taunted as she began moving towards the nearest pile of debris. It was a long shot but maybe she could find something there to use against him, against them. If nothing else there were always the candles perhaps something here was flammable besides the mattress the woman and the creature were on. She didn't want Keadon to be right and she was going to deny it until the bitter end, even if he was.

Her breathing came a little faster, small pulls of air that were released so another could take her place. Her temper was still riding high and the pain in her back and wrist were helping to keep it in place, even if the pain in her head from where her hair had been pulled was thankfully fading. The salty diamonds on her lashes were drying with every blink that kept those brown hues focused upon him.

He pushed away from the door and sped towards her, his bare feet carrying him gracefully past her in a blur of black, wavy hair and lithe muscle. He scratched once more, this time down her left thigh, leaving soft trails of claw marks, the barest hint of blood and her skirt torn to pieces.

She blinked as her eyes tried to focus on the movement that was simply too fast for her to see. The scratches down her thigh brought with them a burning and the touch of moisture that told her she was bleeding again. The pain came moments later as the cloth that had been her skirt fell to the ground around those high heels she wore. Her heart beat loudly in her chest and she stopped moving and searched for where he had ended up. It was almost like seeing a fox suddenly finding itself before a wolf and trying to determine just how she could remove herself from it's territory.

When he stopped moving, he was crouched near the pile of debris that she'd been moving to, his body masked by shadow and only barely evident as a slightly darker shadow amongst other shadows. The only evidence to a casual look that he was there at all were the two pinpoints of hazel, shining in the darkness like a wolf's eyes caught in the beam of a flashlight. Instead, it was the flicker of candlelight that caught that gaze and illuminated it.

His voice echoed from the corner, still soft and intimate with a low growl teasing the bass tones of his speech. "Had one. And recently. Surely your kind knows of our habits on the night of the Mother," he said, hinting at the Gaelic heritage of his pack and most wolf packs.

She spotted him by that pile of debris she had been moving to. She darted her tongue out and moistened her lips. Gloria reviewed her options once more even as she spoke. "My kind? Ah, you mean the kind that doesn't kidnap and molest women. Yes, we know all about bathing. We know about manners also. Would you care for a lesson?" She didn't know why she had to goad tigers, in this case, wolves. She just couldn't help herself. The words came out before she could stop them.

He laughed softly. She was truly a magnificent animal. So much so that he caught himself thinking of her as one of their own, a dangerous play on his mind that could cost her her life before he would realize what he'd done. They couldn't take near the damage a lycanthrope could, humans, and he reminded himself of the fact as he shifted on his haunches where he knelt in the shadows.

She didn't take time to think about what she must look like. The long strands of her dark brown hair had been pulled down earlier in the car on the way here, now they spread around her shoulders in small tangles. The white dress shirt had been tucked in and was now loose around her thighs, showing just a hint of the stocking that stopped just beneath the edge of the shirt. She knew that the stockings were sculpting each limb, the lines of crimson slowly dripping down onto that silk. Gloria felt the back of her shirt in tatters and she could feel the cool drafts tugging at the material as she shifted her weight so that she was, hopefully, better able to defend herself.

His eyes roamed her body from the shadows, taking in every nuance as he continued to sniff lightly at the air, taking in the scent of her arousal and the hint of fear that made his hardened length ache with need. "Run if you like. I have all night," he said with a hint of white teeth baring in the darkness, his smile evident even in the shadows.

She reached down with her good hand and eased one heel from her foot and tossed it aside. Removing the other shoe she turned it so that the heel could be used as a weapon of sorts, if she could hit someplace vulnerable, perhaps his eyes or his throat. Those exotic features were set in a stubborn cast and she lifted her chin as if saying it was his move. "I don't run, I fight."

Her words struck him as utterly arousing as she mentioned fighting, something both seductive and naïve about them as they were uttered past the full lips of a nearly undressed woman holding a high heel as her only weapon against a werewolf. He found a profound respect for her with that one sight. He tilted his head one way and then the other, black strands of hair falling to cover one of his eyes so that only one pinpoint of reflected light shone out from the shadows near the pile of debris.

He rocked back on the balls of his feet for a moment, considering her words, but more importantly, her body, that penetrating stare full of lustful need and a hunger that could not have been explained if he'd tried. The moon was pure and white outside, shining almost brightly enough to bring a sort of daytime to the street outside the door of the old factory. She wouldn't wait long for him to mate or fight, hunt and kill or taste passion through a woman. At the moon's peak, he would lose a great deal of control and taste flesh one way or another. The moon had caught him in a lie. He didn't have all night.