Bound By Moonlight to My Mates (by Sofange Daye) novel Chapter 45

Chapter 45

The apartment Damon gave Leah looks much like his. Only she has already managed to trash the place. Clothes are strewn across the furniture, and it smells like coffee, sex, and too much perfume. She’s perched cross–legged on the couch, hair up in a messy bun, and an oversized t–shirt slipping off one shoulder. I’m still wrapped in Damon’s t–shirt, his scent wafting into my nose. My neck aches with Jake’s fresh mark. I swipe my hair over my shoulder in hopes of hiding it, but Leah’s eyes have already zeroed in on it.

She narrows her eyes at me like a cat stalking her prey. “So….” she says, drawing out the word. “Are you going to tell me what happened? Or do I have to drag it out of you?”

I cling to the coffee mug, clutching it close to my chest. “It’s complicated.”

She snorts with laughter. “That’s not an answer. From what I can see, you have a mark on your neck, and you smell like Damon’s bed. Now, is that Damon’s mark?”

Heat creeps up my face, and I am sure I have turned several shades of red. Leah gasps, throwing her hand over her mouth dramatically.

“Tell me that it’s not Damon’s mark.

I look up from the mug. “It’s Jake’s.”

Her eyes widen, and she scoots closer to me on the couch. She sniffs the air around me and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You don’t smell like Jake.”

“Why would I?” I ask.

She throws herself back onto the couch. “You fucked Damon, but he didn’t mark you. You didn’t fuck Jake, and he did. Is that the gist of the situation?”

“I told you it was complicated,” I grumble. “Now, whose shirt is that because it definitely isn’t yours.”

Leah rolls her eyes. “He’s still back there sleeping. A one–and–done type.”

I open my mouth to chastise her, but a door creaks down the hallway.

Leah glances toward it. “I guess Sleeping Beauty has decided to wake up.”

A man steps into the living room. I recognize him as the bartender that she had been flirting with when I came with her. She doesn’t give him any attention, but I can’t take my eyes off him. Something is wrong. His eyes are wild and yellow. Bits of saliva drip from his mouth. His fingers curl like claws, and his chest heaves as if he’s been running for miles.

“Leah,” I whisper. “We have to get out of here.”

The man stumbles forward, and Leah jumps up to help steady him. “Hey, easy. Are you still drunk? You need to sit down.” A growl rumbles in his chest, and he lunges forward.

Leah screams, shoving me out of the way. Her own wolf takes control as she catches his wrists. “Get out, Char! Go to Damon.”

I inch toward the door, not taking my eyes off her or the feral bartender. She is struggling to fight him off. If I leave her, she won’t survive.

Tala comes to the surface, and my claws extend. “I’m not leaving you alone.”

“Damn it, Charlotte,” she grinds her teeth. “I am your knight.”

She dodges a few swipes of his claws, but just barely. I jump onto his back, wrapping my arms around his neck. My claws sink into his flesh, but he shakes me off easily, sending me flying across the room. My back slams inst the kitchen table, and I whimper.

“Get out,” Leah demands again.

“You are my friend,” I say as I climb to my feet. “I can’t leave you here.”

Before I can reach for the bartender again, the apartment door crashes in. Damon fills the frame, all muscles and rage. His eyes are already black, and his claws are extended from his fingertips. He glances around the apartment before cursing loudly.

The bartender twists toward him with a snarl. Damon moves faster. In one blur of motion, he swipes his claws outward. The man collapses onto the carpet, his throat opened and spilling dark blood.

Everything freezes. This isn’t supposed to happen. I am anchored. The curse, the sickness, it should be over.

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Leah crumples to her knees, gasping, one hand clutched against a bleeding gash down her ribs. I rush to her, pressing my hands to the wound, trying to stem the bleeding. “Stay with me, Leah. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

Damon’s breathing is hard, and blood drips from his fists. He looks at me, not at the dead man or Leah. He looks at me, and his gaze immediately flickers to my neck

“Help me,” I beg him. “She is losing a lot of blood.”

With his teeth ground together, he drops to the floor. Pulling a blanket from the couch, he presses it to Leah’s side. “You let Jake mark you,” he says, while he tends to Leah. His voice is shaking with anger.

“I thought it would stop this!” My voice cracks. “Theo said anchoring me to a mate would stop the sickness…”

Damon snarls, getting back to his feet. “Does this look stopped to you?” He kicks the dead man’s foot, and I flinch. “You anchored yourself to the wrong wolf. Now we’ve got a corpse and your knight is bleeding out.”

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