Moonchild Page 2

  I heard the screams and wails from down the corridor. I took out my baton and ran at the best speed I was capable of, which was close to flashing. I burst into the showers and stopped in my tracks. The female inmates were screaming, laughing, and crying, and for a second, I wondered whether I might have stumbled into the psych ward. The officer in charge was useless. She was yelling at the Omega and trying to pull her out of the shower booth.

  “Shut. The fuck. Up! You crazy bitches!” Usually, the inmates were afraid of me, but now they were all in a frenzy. They seemed to have been provoked by the Omega. I shouted at the female guard to get everyone out of there. As she brought reinforcements and they all herded the inmates out, I stepped into the shower with the Omega, and turned off the water. It was freezing cold, and it struck me then. I knew why she’d gone batshit. So, she did remember something… “Wisteria,” I whispered. She looked into my eyes, and my stomach flipped. Something was different about her. But what?

  “Please don’t hurt me,” she whispered.

  That took me aback. I averted my gaze, cleared my throat, and grabbed her by the arms to push her out of the shower. She’d resisted my colleague earlier, but she was compliant now.

  “You can talk,” I said dryly. “Good.”

  “I don’t know what happened.”

  I threw a towel at her, and she wrapped herself in it with shaking hands. She was staring at the shower head like it was a mythical monster that had attacked her and then turned back into a harmless, inanimate object the second there were witnesses around.

  “I know what happened.” I couldn’t help myself. And why would I? “Would you like me to tell you?”

  She fixed me with those deep, purple eyes. It was an unnatural color, one I’d never seen before. Her eyes unsettled me.

  “Who are you?” she asked, and her seemingly innocent question only served to confuse me more.

  I studied her from head to toe. I’d done it before, in her cell, but she’d been dressed in those awful clothes. Now, her translucent skin was bare under the old, rough towel. She looked better than the night before. The forced sleep Doctor Sylvan had induced had done her good. The black circles around her eyes had receded, and her lips and cheeks sported a beautiful, healthy color of a rose in bloom. Or it might have been the fever, who knew? When I’d touched her face and her arms just a few seconds before, I’d felt her flesh burn under my palms. If I’d cared enough, I would’ve taken her to the infirmary. But I didn’t care, because she didn’t deserve it. For her to stand here, before me, alive and well when her own pack was ashes by now… It was blasphemy! Werewolves burned corpses. It was the easiest way to avoid humans stumbling onto our remains, study them, and reach the obvious conclusion that yes, we existed. Men who could turn into wolves. We were real, and we weren’t a threat to them. We had our own stuff to deal with. But they would never understand that, because the thing about humans was that the whole world revolved around them. Or so they liked to believe.

  “Please,” she whispered in a choked voice, snapping me out of my reverie. “You look so familiar, yet I can’t… remember. Who are you? What are you… to me?”

  “What am I to you?” I laughed. “I’ll tell you what I am to you, mut.” I closed the space between us and grabbed her by the wrist, squeezing hard. “I am your worst nightmare,” I spat through gritted teeth. “I am a demon, a master of torture, I am the one who will break you, put you back together, then break you again and again, until you confess to what you did.”

  “Confess?”

  “Yes, Wisteria. Confess.”

  “Is that… my name?”

  She’d already spoken more than I’d ever heard her speak, and to my horror, her voice did something to me. It was soft, feminine, gentle. She didn’t sound like a little girl, though. She sounded like a woman who knew how to charm anyone simply by calibrating her vocal cords, by making the words that left her mouth dance on a string, in a melodious rhythm decided by her. I’d met other Omegas before. I had to admit I’d never had one, because Omegas were destined to be mated to one Alpha and one Alpha alone, and my career was more important to me than a mate or a family. But none of the Omega females I’d met sounded quite like her, which meant that what she did with her voice, the way she guided it to penetrate my bones, was not a skill particular to all Omegas.

  “It’s not your name,” I growled. “It’s what I call you because your eyes are purple and you’re hysterical. If you want to know what your real name is, remember it.”

  “I’m not… hysterical.”

  “Really? Then what do you call what you just did? Thanks to you, the other inmates won’t shower today.”

  “You said you know… Why I’m afraid of cold water.”

  I grinned. Yes, I did know. “PTSD.” She furrowed her blond brows, and I had to admit she looked cute. I mentally slapped myself. “You’ll have to remember that, too.”

  “Won’t you help me?”

  “Help you?” I squeezed her wrist until she whimpered. “Haven’t you been listening? I’m your enemy, Wisteria, and I will ruin you.” She looked at me with those big purple eyes, and I knew she couldn’t remember a thing. The doctor hadn’t just put her to sleep, he’d also given her something to wipe her memory. I didn’t think it was permanent, though. For now, it was fun to watch her confusion as her brain struggled to make sense of what was happening. “You weren’t as talkative last night.”

  “What happened last night?”

  “Oh, a lot. A lot happened…” I drew out the last words, staring at her breasts suggestively. I licked my lips, not caring that it freaked her out. I could still feel the taste of her skin on my tongue.

  She shuddered and pulled her wrist free. She fisted the towel, holding it tightly around her body, and looked around for her clothes. Impressive. It had finally occurred to her that I was dangerous, that I was going to eat her alive. She found her underwear and turned her back to me, trying to roll the white cotton panties up her legs without revealing too much skin. I smirked. Soon enough, she’d remember I’d already seen it all – rosy nipples pebbling under my touch, the triangle of soft, blond hair between her legs, soaked in her own slick. I was hard. I pulled at the crotch of my uniform pants, adjusting and trying to make more space for my growing erection. I should have fucked her last night. Warden Green wouldn’t have given a shit. No one in here gave a shit about her. They all knew she was scum. I stole a glance around me. All the showers were empty, and the female guard was probably busy convincing the inmates to get the fuck back into their cells and take a whore bath in the sink. I only needed two minutes.

  As the Omega had her back to me, I snuck the tip of my baton under her towel and pulled. It came off instantly, falling at her feet. She gasped and wrapped her arms around her chest to cover her breasts. She’d managed to put on her panties, but that could easily be fixed. She turned to look at me over her shoulder.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Nothing you haven’t already begged me to do.”

  She gulped. “I don’t remember what happened last night. Please. This isn’t right. You’re a correctional officer, and I am… defenseless.”

  I laughed out loud. Couldn’t help myself. “Defenseless? You murdered dozens of werewolves! You nearly clawed my eyes out!”

  She shook her head. “No. I’d never… And I’m not strong enough…”

  “Oh, you are. There’s something inside you, something that craves blood and violence.” I grabbed her from behind, pushing all my weight into her. She was shaking like a leaf. “You like it rough, too. You want me to help you remember?” I pulled her hands away from her chest and held her wrists together. Her breasts popped free, the small, perky nipples hardening. I rubbed my hard cock against her ass. “I’ll help you remember,” I whispered in her ear, huskily.

  “N-no…”

  But I could feel her body respond to me. Mentally and emotionally, she probably didn’t want it, but ph ysically, she was just an Omega, and Omegas couldn’t resist an Alpha’s pheromones. She bucked her hips into my crotch, and the clothed length of my cock nestled between her buttocks. All I had to do was pull her panties off and pull my cock out. Two minutes, and I’d fill her with my seed. Maybe then she’d remember who she was and what she’d done.

  “Officer?”

  “Shit,” I cursed under my breath. The female guard was back. I didn’t even know her bloody name. She was new. I stepped away from the Omega and cleared my throat. “Did you get everything sorted out?”

  “Yes. What are you doing?”

  I cocked an eyebrow, giving her a look that clearly spelled out that she was stupid and it was none of her business. I checked her name tag. G Bough it said.

  “Officer Bough, do you like your job?” She stiffened but didn’t say a word. “Take the Omega to breakfast, and I’ll allow you to keep it.” She nodded, and that was my cue to get out of there.

  Emptying my balls in the pretty blond who’d slaughtered an entire pack of werewolves would have to wait.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Wisteria

  When I saw the cafeteria, I freaked out. It was a huge room placed between the two cell blocks, and everyone ate here – women and men. I stopped in the doorway, which annoyed Officer Bough. She sighed loudly.

  “Now what?”

  “I can’t go in there.”

  “And why’s that?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and chuckled lightly. She was short, sturdy, and her uniform should have been a size bigger. She wore her brown hair in a tight bun. She was probably close to fifty. Contrary to popular belief, werewolves didn’t live much longer than humans. Maybe twenty to thirty years longer, but when your bones shrunk and your muscles atrophied and prevented you from shifting whenever you wanted, who even wanted to live longer?

  “I don’t care if you’re hungry or not. It’s breakfast time. You don’t want to be here? I’ll take you back to your cell.”

  I shifted from one foot to the other. “Is there some other place where I could… spend some time in peace? Think?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, your cell.”

  “N-no. Is there a chapel?”

  “You’re a believer? That’s fascinating.”

  I didn’t say anything. She was probably referring to the crimes I was apparently accused of. Yes, I was a believer, in fact. I’d prayed all my life. My mother had taught me. And just like that, a flash from the past took over my senses.

  I could smell the wet grass after the rain, could hear the birds sing in the trees. A squirrel jumped from one tree to another above my head, and my mother placed her hands over mine to show me how to hold the knife. Wood carving was one of her many passions. She’d always been an artist. She guided my hand, and I watched as the chunk of wood slowly took the form of a wolf. “Can I keep it when we’re done?” I asked her. “Yes. It will protect you, and you can talk to it when you feel lonely.” Panic gripped my heart. “Why would I ever feel lonely? I have you.” She kissed my head but didn’t say anything. We carved until late at night and finished the wolf figurine the next day.

  “All right,” Officer Bough said. “But just this once, because I don’t like what Officer Stone did to you in there.”

  “He didn’t…” I stopped myself when I realized that I was about to defend my attacker. What was wrong with me? “I’m sorry. Thank you.”

  She took me out of the building, and we crossed the yard to the small chapel that stood between two old linden trees. Soon, they would bloom, and the air would be filled with the delicate perfume of their flowers. As I walked behind Officer Bough, I took in the prison, its walls, the courtyard, and its adjacent buildings. Guards were standing in the four towers, guns in hand. The place didn’t look so bad. It was isolated from the world, surrounded by mountains and forests. At least the air was fresh, and we were close to nature.

  “Mass is over, but Father Rivera is still in. If you want to confess, that is,” she snickered.

  I blinked. That word again. Was that all they wanted from me? If I remembered what I’d done, I’d gladly confess to it. I wasn’t a liar, I’d never been a deceiver. If I’d done something wrong, fine. I was ready to take responsibility for it. But I would never confess to something I didn’t remember doing. For all I knew, I could’ve been framed.

  I entered the chapel. The air was cool and pleasant. It smelled like incense and herbs. I looked at the imposing statue of Christ on the cross, and for a split second, I felt like I shouldn’t have been here, like this was wrong, and I should’ve faced the other inmates in the cafeteria. The place was empty and silent, which made everything else seem too loud – my steps on the stone floor, my breath, the way my horrible overalls shuffled as I walked.

  “Come on,” Officer Bough whispered. “Go on and pray. I don’t have all day here.”

  I nodded and stepped to the front of the chapel. Just as I was about to sit in a pew, a man came out of the altar. He was tall, handsome, with dark blond hair and penetrating blue eyes. Alpha. I’d never seen an Alpha priest before. The long clerical robe couldn’t quite hide that he spent his free time in the gym or running through the woods in his wolf form. He looked strong, confident, and yet so gentle.

  “It’s okay, Officer Bough,” he said in a voice so kind and melodious that imaginary butterflies fluttered their wings inside my stomach. “I can take it from here.”

  “Father Rivera, I don’t think that’s wise. She just caused agitation in the showers.”

  He looked at me, and I averted my gaze, blushing. As he studied me, trying to figure out if I was, indeed, dangerous, my eyes stayed glued to the toes of my boots.

  “Is that right?” he asked me.

  I nodded.

  “But you didn’t mean it, did you? If you confess, God will forgive your sin.” He walked over to me and touched my arm gently. “Come. I will listen to your confession.”

  I couldn’t refuse him. I had no idea why, but I was drawn to him. Whatever he said, I was ready to do on the spot. It was as if he had this power over me – and I didn’t want to fight it, resist it, rebel against it. It was different from what I felt when Officer Stone was around – arousal mixed in with uncertainty and apprehension. With Father Rivera, what I felt was hope, peace, and a need to earn his approval, to do what he asked of me, so he’d reward me with his undivided attention.

  Officer Bough sighed and left us alone, mumbling something about other, more important duties. I followed Father Rivera to the confessional. He sat across from me, and I knelt on the wooden step. The lattice panel between us was closed, and I could barely distinguish his silhouette through it.

  “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

  Was it me, or had he just taken a sharp intake of breath? I was waiting for him to say something, to prompt me to go on, but he was silent for a long minute, as if he’d forgotten where he was and what he was doing.

  “Father?”

  He cleared his throat. When he spoke, the emotion in his voice was evident. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hide it.

  “I’m listening.”

  “I don’t know what happened,” I started with a sigh. “I was in the shower, the water was warm on my skin, and then… my cellmate reached over and turned it cold. Freezing cold. And I just… lost it. I started screaming.”

  “Do you think it… reminded you of something?”

  I furrowed my brows. His voice sounded breathy now.

  “I don’t know. Maybe. Officer Stone calmed me down. He said it was PTSD, but you see… I think I might be suffering from memory loss.” I touched my temple. My skin was burning again. Maybe I should have gone to the infirmary, not the chapel.

  “Memory loss… What don’t you remember?”

  “So many things. My name, my pack, what happened before I woke up this morning…”

  “Wha t do you think happened?”

  I shook my head. “I feel sore, tired… I seem to be running a fever.”

  “Do you know why you’re here?”

  “N-no.”

  “Try harder, Wisteria. There must be something you remember.”

  His voice had turned husky, and the way he said the name Officer Stone had chosen for me… The emotion behind it went straight to my core. I heard him shuffle on the other side. I squeezed my eyes shut, maybe because I had a feeling about what he was doing as he listened to my confession, and I didn’t want to see it.

  “Pain. My wrists and ankles are bruised. I have dark bruises on my ribs, like someone hit me…”

  “Or tased you?”

  My eyes snapped open. “Why would anyone tase me?” It was obvious now. I could see him moving. My heart started beating faster.

  “What else do you remember?”

  “I’m afraid to say…”

  “I’m not here to judge, Wisteria.”

  “That’s not my name…”

  “What else do you remember?”

  “Pleasure,” I breathed.

  The shuffling sound from behind the panel became more intense. I couldn’t look away, now. I wanted to see. His hand seemed to be moving rhythmically.

  “Pain and pleasure. It’s all right, Wisteria, you can tell me.”

  “I’m a virgin, Father. I do remember that. And I’m afraid… that last night someone took that away from me.”

  “That’s not what happened.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because I was there.”

  He let out a breathless grunt, and my body responded by producing slick. I felt the hot liquid coat my panties, and I squeezed my legs together. My knees were starting to hurt.