Page 17 of Howl Me to the Moon (Moonlight Siren Supernatural Cruises #2)
CHAPTER 17
REX
W hen I returned to the gangway and stepped onboard, I caught Piper’s scent among the countless others. She was recently here. I rubbed my beard, forcing myself not to sprint to her. I’d already scared her away once. Tracking her down would not help matters.
But maybe we could talk. I’d let her know that I’d respect her wishes and would avoid her if that was what she wanted—despite how much I loathed that idea.
As I walked up the stairs, brief wisps of her scent continued to taunt me. Yet something felt off. My wolf perked up with heightened awareness.
“Hey, Rex,” Van said as he strolled from the other direction. “Everything okay?”
My jaw twitched. No, but I didn’t know what the hell was wrong. “Yeah, all good,” I lied. “See you tonight.”
I continued past, my feet all but leading me toward the gallery while I wrestled with myself over whether it was a good idea to go in. Just as I reached the closed doors leading into the space, they opened, and Marcel burst out.
When he saw me, he raised both arms toward me with his traditional dramatic flair. “Wolf, have you seen Piper?”
I resisted snorting. Glad he took the time to remember my name, considering I’d volunteered to help him find the painting. What was more important was his question.
“No. Isn’t she here?” I glanced into the space between the closing doors of the gallery before they shut completely.
He pressed his lips together in a grim line. “She’s supposed to be. And Sloane too. They should be here preparing for tonight’s auction, but are they?” He threw a hand up and raised an index finger, swaying it back and forth. “No-o-o-o.” He dragged out the word with particular emphasis. “Are they answering my calls and texts?” He clucked his tongue. “Also no.”
My instincts shot up. Piper was missing. And so was Sloane. I gritted my teeth. That son of a bitch. If he laid a hand on her, I’d?—
“They should be in the gallery, setting up.” Marcel crossed his arms. “Everything is riding on this event. The auction starts in an hour!”
Gnawing dread inside my gut intensified. This wasn’t good. I bolted across the deck, searching for signs of their scent.
“Where are you going, wolf?” Marcel blurted out with exasperation. Seconds later, he was right behind me, courtesy of his vampire speed.
“Looking for Piper.”
Her scent grew stronger outside the storage space, indicating she’d been here recently. I turned the knob to open the door, but it was locked.
“Let me.” Marcel stepped forward and used his key.
Once he opened the door, I stepped inside the dark space and scanned the interior. Stacks of paintings covered by white sheets as I’d remembered, yet something felt different. Wrong.
“Piper?” I called out softly.
Nothing.
“Sloane. Piper.” Marcel barked out their names with irritation.
Still nothing. I moved deeper into the room, which felt darker—not just by the lack of light but the energy in the air. A pungent sulfuric scent overpowered the usual scent of paint and must. The air felt thick, heavy. Charged with something—unnatural. All the hair on the back of my neck shot up, and my protective instincts sped into overdrive.
I searched through gaps between the stacks of canvas, desperation clawing at my insides. Marcel meandered around, muttering under his breath, but I shut him out.
And then I saw something.
Sloane was on the ground, not moving. I gulped. What did this mean about Piper?
I tread forward slowly as my pulse quickened.
And then I saw her.
Piper.
My heart plummeted and I froze. She was standing upright, but her feet weren’t touching the ground. She stared forward, her face etched with terror. She appeared frozen, unable to move.
Something was holding her. Or someone. Shielded by a stack of paintings.
The darkness seemed to swell. It swallowed oxygen in the air, leaving my tongue dry.
I approached—and then saw the monster. A figure cloaked in black robes who had a skeletal face with glowing red eyes. Behind him was the Armando painting, churning like ominous lava and looking far more menacing than when I’d seen it in the gallery. This painting pulsed with dark energy—like it was alive .
My blood turned arctic and my wolf raged with fury. A growl rumbled out of me, full of fury and possessiveness. How dare he touch my mate?
“Demon,” Marcel warned me from behind in a low whisper.
I advanced, fists clenched at my sides, ready to unleash all my fury on this thing that dared to touch her.
“Let her go!” I seethed as my wolf clamored to take control.
The demon turned its glowing eyes at me, its expression a taunting menace.
“You lost her, wolf.” It tightened its grip on Piper. “I’ll use her as I wish.”
“No!” Piper found her voice and kicked. She appeared to be free of whatever had left her immobile and struggled to escape the demon’s grasp.
She turned her head enough to catch my eye.
“Rex.” Her voice came out breathy. “Be careful.”
Her desperate plea tore at my heart.
“I said put her down!” I growled and surged for the demon.