Page 9 of The Huntress and the Blood Moon (The Huntress #1)

R ain starts to pour just as the first rays of sunlight break over the eastern horizon, shooting blasts of magenta through the clouds and across the sky.

Carmen bows her head to avoid getting her face wet as she stomps across the parking lot toward the motel’s double door.

She’s been out in the woods all night, eyes glued to the wolves’ den, and now she needs a fucking drink. Bad .

A bottle of the cheap stuff waits for her in her room and the closer she gets to it, the more she’s utterly desperate to grab hold of it and chug.

She should probably feel ashamed of this clear addiction she’s been nursing, but there’s not much of a point for shame—not anymore.

Her night spent in the woods only confirmed it: she’s nearing the end credits of her sad and miserable life.

All that’s left now is to make sure her plan is bulletproof.

She’s only going to have one shot.

As soon as she pushes through the door of her motel room, she beelines it for the bottle of whiskey beckoning her from the desk.

The first gulp down burns like fire, the second fanning the flames.

But the third one is easier, spreading warmth across her belly in the most comforting way.

She lets that warmth wrap around her, lets it hold her like a lover, like all the things her heart still craves.

That’s the thing about love Carmen can’t stand now: knowing it is the worst part.

She spent nearly her whole life without an ounce of it and was just fine—she didn’t know any better.

Life was fine. Sure, a home and a family and money to buy things with would’ve been nice, but Carmen never had any of that either, so she didn’t miss it in a way that broke her.

But Lacie . . . Lacie showed her what love feels like. She showed her what it means to yearn and ache and transform. She turned Carmen’s indifference to something else entirely, something much more akin to passion. To need.

There was nothing subtle about the way Carmen and Lacie loved each other, or all the ways they figured out to show each other just how much it meant to each of them.

And now, to exist and be alive without it, to be left with nothing but a gaping hole made so vast by everything it was once full of . . .

There’s no surer way to break someone, Carmen is certain of that.

But she’ll have the last laugh. She’ll have this one final stand. And then, she hopes like hell she’ll have her girl back. At the very least, she hopes for peace.

When the bottle is half-gone, Carmen gets into a scalding shower and lets the heat wash over her skin.

Closing her eyes, she leans against the robin’s blue tile.

The whiskey hits her fast, faster as she drowns herself with the too-hot shower.

Her mind begins to spin, her balance slipping, and soon she’s doubling over and finding purchase on the floor of the tub.

Stretching out her legs and arms, the shower still spraying down on her, she begins to drift off, chasing after visions of Lacie.

Her necklace glides across her wet-slick chest, falling over the mound of her breast and down to the tops of her ribs.

She opens her eyes and grasps for it, suddenly desperate to see the image within.

For the scrap of Lacie she still has. She struggles through blurred vision but manages to unclasp the tiny latch, opening the hinge and immediately finding those big blue eyes that have always felt like home.

Carmen doesn’t realize she’s crying, that there’s tears streaming down her face alongside the water from the showerhead. She just stares and stares and stares as the darkness of grief overtakes everything, dragging her down into the pits of her despair.

She must fall asleep at some point, that locket still clutched tight in her hand.

When the water grows cold enough to hurt, Carmen wakes with a start, smacking her head against the side of the tub hard enough to raise flesh.

She curses, lunging for the faucet so she can pull the valve closed.

And then she stands on shaky legs, reaching for a towel to dry herself off as best as she can through the liquor-filled haze.

She manages to crawl into bed, the morning sun shining bright through the single window, the damp towel still wrapped around her body.

And she lets herself fall back asleep.