Page 76 of Broken Moon

I put it on speaker and placedit back on the nightstand. “Mom,” I said. “I’m fine.”

“I know, honey. I’m in thekitchen.”

I shook my head. “Then why areyou calling me?”

“I needed to see if you wereawake and ready to eat. Also, I have to tell you something.”

I groaned. “Maybe keep whateverit is to yourself for another day or twelve.”

“No can do, Kaity. Listen, I’llbring coffee and a pastry and Lucy will bring your tray as soon as everythingis done. I have to get back to the…um, to Shadowfield. Jared is going to driveme out to the house to…oh hell, I’ll just come there and tell you.”

She disconnected the call andsixty seconds later was walking into my bedroom with a cup of coffee and aplate of warm, flaky yum. “I told Lucy to send one in, and she reminded me thatyou like to overeat.”

I scooted up in bed and tookthe coffee and the plate. I snatched what looked like an enormous, iced bearclaw off the plate and took a bite, and my taste buds woke up and cramped soviolently that I nearly spilled my coffee.

My mother rushed to the windowsto pull back the curtains, letting bright sunlight into the dark room. She cameback to the bed to peer down at me, then slipped into my bathroom to fetch ahand mirror. Mostly I ignored her, because I was so busy stuffing carbs down mythroat.

She held the mirror up and fora second, I stopped chewing as I got a look at my face. “Damn,” I said, thenresumed eating.

She nodded soberly. “When Ifirst saw you, I have to admit I was totally—”

“Don’t say it.”

“—buggin. For some reason, thegunshot injury healed much faster than your poor face. But look at that face,Kait. I believe he beat you with a weapon those horrible men made themselves,and likely it had some silver in it. So it’s going to take a little longer forthose awful bruises to fade and the swelling to go down. Honestly, that’s agood thing.”

I lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”

“That detective keeps coming byto check on you. He saw you after you were shot and pummeled half to death. Ifhe sees you now…” She tilted her head and looked at me doubtfully. “Maybe wecan make him believe you weren’t as badly beaten as he thought. He’s going towonder, isn’t he, Kait?”

I shrugged. “Yeah. Maybe I canstay away from him for a few days.”

She sniffed, crossed her arms, andshuffled from foot to foot, avoiding my stare. “I think you should probablystay away from him forever, Kaity.”

I frowned. “What? Why? Becausehe’s not a wolf and we shouldn’t get close to humans?” I leaned forward.“Lucy’s human, mom.”

“It’s not that. I’m just goingto tell you. The reporters got your picture when you came out of the housecarrying that poor girl. They’re wondering who you are and why you were therewith the detective who called it in.” She took a deep breath. “They’re sayingyou—the mystery woman—and he are having an affair and that his wife tried tokill herself because of it.”

And I could tell from the wayshe wouldn’t quite look at me that she wasn’t sure if those speculations weretrue or not.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered.What if Beth saw that on the news? Ofcourseshe would see it. “I’m nothaving sex with Detective Moreno, Mother.”

“Good. You can’t screw marriedmen.”

“Mom.”

“Here. Look. This is why aperson might wonder.” She brought up a picture on her phone. “There are a dozenor so of them on the Internet, but this is the one that stands out.”

I couldn’t tell by her voice ifshe was proud or dismayed. I took her phone and peered at the screen. The photowas shocking in its rawness, a moment that captured a few things. The abductedMarcy Davenport, tiny and half hidden behind my borrowed coat, being carriedfrom the house of horrors. The woman who carried her looked like a victimherself, and half feral.

I held the girl close to me andmy eyes were swollen and black but still held a look of something distinctly nothuman. They’d blame it on the way the light hit my slitted eyes, but I knewbetter. Anyone who knew wolves existed would know. My wolf was not even tryingto hide as I carried Marcy from that house, and she stared from my eyes with acold, wild glow, daring anyone to harm her charge.

My face was a mask of blood.Swollen and broken, my eyes half closed into slits, slits that damn glow shonefrom anyway, and absolutely I could understand why people would wonder. I don’tthink I was recognizable in the photo.

The camera had caught thedetective with his right arm around me and his left hand cradling Marcy’sskull, as though to help me carry her. His stare was on my face. There wassomething in his eyes, in his face.

“The way he’s looking at you,”my mother said. “I mean…you can see it, can’t you? Why a person might wonder…”

I shoved her phone at her.“We’re friends. I looked like death and he probably thought I was dying. Imean, look at me.”