“Crimson Moon: The Hunter’s Oath.” CHAPTER 1
“Crimson Moon: The Hunter’s Oath.” CHAPTER 1
ALEXEI VOLKOV
“Nowhere else to go, mutt.” My growl is low as the wolf searches for an exit. We’re right on the border of Saint Haven City center, which means the closest building is twenty-stories down.
He turns to me, his black fur matted with blood from his last kill only hours ago.
Red eyes, his blood-thirst level gauging, glare at me as he begins to change. Bones snap so loud, one can hear them above the wailing wind, as his skin expands and retracts, and muscles move into different positions. In a matter of seconds, he stands before me, tan-colored flesh striped with blood.
"It's over for you, Hunter." Fingernails curved into a red grin, he gives me the evil eye as his fingernails lengthen, his hands ballooning into clawed paws on a human body.
"Pretty trick," I say.
He flips a clawed hand up and sticks the nail in his mouth, sliding it back and forth over his tongue. "I don't think you'll be laughing in a little while."
The wolf attacks, and I sidestep, bounding to the side and spinning, wielding my sword as if it were an extension of my own body and not a metal tool. It barely misses, and the wolf attacks me once again, this time striking me with one of his lengthy-ass claws.
Ribbons of fabric, skin tears, and warm blood drip down my arm from the gash over my biceps. My huntress blood will heal me eventually so—for now—I ignore it, shoving the pain aside where my father instructed me to stash it.
"I enjoyed that shirt, fuckhead," I grind out as I reach back for what's there. Palm finding the hilt of a silver dagger, I draw it out of its sheath and hurl it like a spear into the wolf. He shrieks in pain, the furious scream hanging in the darkness of night as the dagger buries itself deep in the flesh of his chest.
He stumbles back, staggering, and I step forward, ready to end the fight. "You are being executed for your crimes."
He smirks. "You have no idea what is coming, Hunter. I am just a start. More will come."
"More? For what?"
He smiles.
I push my knife against the flesh of his throat. "Talk, and I might make it swift."
"Tell me, Hunter…do you blame yourself for her death?"
I bristle. "Whose death?"
"Your lady friend," he spits back. "I heard she died in agony before they ripped her throat out."
I white-knuckle the blade as rage heats to a simmer. Clenched teeth, I lean forward and grab the monster by his throat, lifting him fully off the ground. Silver held firm against his throat, the dagger still lodged in his flesh.
"You think you're smart to insult me, dog? I'll fuckin' destroy you!"
"Still a bit touchy, I suppose," he struggles to say. "I wish I'd been the one that had killed her. Me who had lapped up her blood. I bet she was delicious." He licks his lips, and I flush.
Slamming him to the ground, I have my hand to his throat. "Who murdered her? Tell me!"
He smiles. "She's coming for you too. She'll kill all the hunters."
"Who?!" I shout, yelling above the wailing of the wind.
"I'd rather it be a surprise." He shoves me aside and comes to his feet.
Ready to battle once again, I fall into position as the wolf turns and dashes for the edge of the roof and springs.
"Dammit!" I sprint to the edge, and peer over barely in time to watch the creature vanish into the heavy mist covering the top half of the skyscraper. Whatever happened, nothing would have made it out of that fall alive, but in case, I tuck my knife away and approach the door.
I am engulfed by a blinding light and I shield my eyes, turning around and looking upwards towards heaven. The moon glows brighter and brighter once more, obscuring the stars that surround it. It's beautiful—magic—and holds me in its grasp with something I haven't known in a long, fucking while—peace.
The light beam flashes for a last time and then disappears, leaving a glowing slip of parchment fallen from the heavens. "What the heck?" I reach out and grab the smooth paper in my hand and glance up at the sky again before I study the paper.
Blood Moon Gala is scripted in elegant writing on the front of the paper, and I follow the script with my fingertips before turning it over.
I slow-circle turn around, ensuring that I'm still alone on the rooftop. This has to be a prank, right? A Blood Moon Gala? What the heck is a Blood Moon Gala?
I reread the message on the back slowly, unrolling the invitation under the letters. An invitation to a ball that shall be full of Monsters? Does something like that exist? I reread the paper again before gazing back up at the moon.
She will destroy all hunters.
If there does exist something like a Blood Moon Gala—and if the name actually is correct—this place shall be teeming with supernaturals.
Tipping my head back, I look at the moon for the final time, its own light casting me with an ethereal radiance as the fog creeps closer in around me. A plan forms in my mind, and I smile. For a year now, I've been scouring Volkov Alley and news networks seeking out the pack who jumped us that night. And for the first time, I have a reasonable chance of discovering answers to the questions that have been troubling me since that night.
Starting from the point where they found us, and all the way up to the murder of Alina Petrovna. Maybe then, I can give back the answers to Alina's sister, Yelena Petrovna, and beg for the forgiveness of my friend.
This Blood Moon Gala—if one is being held—could be my very first real opportunity to uncover who ordered Alina killed. I will know so much more. And here's the best part: I don't have to wait long…because tomorrow is Blood Moon Night.
NATALIA MOROZOVA
"Go the fuck away," I growl, not bothering to glance around. I know that will only do me harm.
"Now, Natalia, is that any way to speak to your future husband?
I bristle as the coarse female voice washes over me. I turn, and find myself nose to nose with the very individual whom I seem to be unable to escape. The witch bitch who had brought me here in the first place. She is the one who had them find us, after my dad had led our entire pack into hiding. Why he's been exiled to who the heck knows. She'd cast a location spell to find us, aware of what they would do to us.
My fingers curl into fists as I stare at the silver-haired woman that I would murder with joy. My nails lengthen, my hands shifting as the hold on my temper begins to break. But it stops there. I'm trapped in this perpetual state of being, another thing that I hate her for. She imprisoned me in this form, stopping me from fully transforming into the wolf that I am.
What do you desire, then?" I snarl.
Irina Volkovna comes into my room, my fiancé in tow. The farther back they go into the room, the more I shrink in comparison to his gigantic frame. The Dragunovs are always popular when mating season arrives. Their line is ancient and long, and although they are thoroughgoing bastards—right down to their shriveled, black hearts—their handsome one's.