Moon, Bitten

Chapter Seventeen

         

           Ronan returned to Asheville with a sense of urgency. He couldn’t explain the sudden foreboding but it fixed him intensely with an unsettling feeling.

          He’d gone to New York at his cousin’s beseeching only to be led to Bucharest, Romania, and straight into a vampire fray.

          He was never one to meddle in vampire affairs, unless of course they dared to tread his turf but this particular undertaking had stoked his curiosity, far more than he cared to admit.

          Lucan had spoken of a woman carrying both human and vampire blood – and the most astounding of it all – she’d been pregnant. Naturally he’d been skeptical. It was a phenomenon deemed impossible among all species alike yet this woman - this human had defied all the odds.

          She was certainly a rarity among the vampires – one that could potentially be their doing or – undoing.

           His involvement and curiosity went no further than the woman. He cared not for what occurred in Romania or New York. He’d gone simply to appease Lucan in hopes his cousin would one day return the service.

          His priority was Asheville. He returned to the inner city a little past noon. The sun had risen high and now beamed upon the smooth blacktop of the crowded streets. As he trekked a path through the mass of tourists to Club Red he noticed a many gaping stares turned his way.

         “What the hell happened to you?” demanded a familiar incredulous tone.

        Ronan turned and spied Micah striding his way, studying his rather disheveled and bloodied attire with a broadening frown. “You do realize you’re a bloody mess?”

        He scowled at his Beta, “We need to talk.”

         Once inside the dim enclosure of Club Red Micah turned and raised a questioning brow at Ronan, “Care to disclose what happened in New York?”

          He ignored his Beta’s fixed glare and moved to the bar to seize a bottle of liquor. He was damn tired to have a preference and simply took a hefty swig, hoping the harsh drink would chase the edge of whatever foreboding plagued him.

       He slammed the bottle down and turned to Micah, “What’s happened here?” he demanded.

       Micah’s brows knitted with vague confusion, “You’re the one doused in blood and you’re asking–“

        “Just answer the damn question.” Ronan exclaimed irritably. That feeling of apprehension remained like a cinder block in his gut.

      “Nothing’s happened.” Micah assured.

      “Roux?”

         Micah shrugged his massive shoulders, looking more perplexed by the second. “No-show – I haven’t seen him. What are you getting at?” he fell silent, noticing Ronan’s blackening expression and then asked, “Does this have anything to do with what happened in New York?”

        Ronan peered beyond Micah’s shoulder as he tried piecing together whatever means prompted this sickening wrenching in the pit of his stomach. “Bucharest.” He disclosed.

          Micah frowned, “Bucharest?”

          “I didn’t go to New York.”