The Cursed Luna

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Sloane

"s**t, s**t, shit." Leora is freaking out, her expression falling, her shoulders curving forward. She instantly huddles up against her sister as she reaches us, while Samson snarls under his breath.

"You take care of the girls, and I'll fix this," Samson instructs.

Something about the way he says that irks me. Maybe it's the competitive side of me, or that he says it with such cockiness in front of Cara, that it rubs me the wrong way.

"Don't think so." I shove Cara right into his arms. "She gets away and it's all on you."

Before he can even respond, I strip my shirt off and toss it behind me, kicking off my shoes and unzipping my pants. I'm rather fond of these clothes, and I don't want them destroyed. The warm breeze rushes over my naked body, and just as fast, the change erupts through me like a tornado, tearing me to shreds as my wolf pours out of me like lava. The agony stings, my body shuddering. In seconds, my large, white paws hit the ground, and the surrounding smells intensify. Dew, the stench of earth, and the promise of rain in the distance flood my nostrils. But with it comes the putrid stink of death.

Two dead are lurching toward us, the tall guy sporting only one arm, both seemingly missing lips. Their yellow, broken teeth chatter with their desperate need to eat. Torn and filthy clothes hang off their frail forms. Pasty, gaunt faces make their eyes look bigger. They are ugly things.

I've fought so many of these filthy creatures on our retrieval mission to find Leora, it's second nature to me now. Though I can't deny that zombies are one of the few things that send shivers up my spine because where there's one, there are others. And I don't want them here if this sector will be my new home.

I lunge at the one on the right for the single reason that he has two arms... always take out the more powerful so when your back is turned, it's only the weaker one you have left to contend with.

My teeth scrape into his neck, digging into flesh, and I rip off his bulbous head with ease. Zombies are barely held together when they haven't fed, their bodies feeble and easily torn. No blood pours from his rotten body either, meaning it's been a long time since he ate. The real danger with them is all about the sheer number, and I hope with everything in me that more aren't coming.

Something slams into my back, the sharp stab of teeth sinking into my back leg. I buck my weight into the bastard, hurling him into a nearby trunk. I'm on him in seconds, slashing my jaws across his throat. After all, decapitation is the best way to ensure they don't get back up.

His head tumbles to the ground and into a nearby shrub.

I spit out the rancid taste on my tongue, my throat closing up, gagging at the smell. My fear isn't that I'll get sick with their virus. From what I learned down in Ulv pack, most of us wolves are not resilient to the disease, while other wolf packs like the X-Clan are immune. But us normal wolves are carriers. The moment we die, we'll become a f*****g zombie, so the trick is to not die anytime soon and ensure our heads come right off.

Heaving for breath, I sweep the area with my gaze, past the two undead who aren't moving. Let's hope they are all that made it up here, because these bastards congregate like the great river of death coming from the underworld. Been there, done that. Prefer to never encounter it again.

I head back to Samson and the girls, transforming into my human form on my way. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. My attention homes in on Cara. The way she's checking me out is not missed, nor the way her gaze dips to my groin. Yeah, it's hard to miss it, and I'm not even erect to truly give her the full show, but even at my relaxed state, I'm damn big.

"That wasn't so bad, now was it? You three butterflies all okay?"

Samson gives me the death glare, then nudges Cara back at me, and I gladly seize her arm. In that same moment, a gargled groan cuts through the early morning from deeper in the woods. We all turn in that direction to find another damn brain muncher hunched over the dead Alpha who attacked Cara, tearing at his intestines.

"Eww." Leora looks away and Cara takes her into her arms, protective of her sister, which I can respect.

Samson doesn't say a word and heads across the woods to finish the zombie.

"Well, you girls picked a great time to head into the woods," I say, gaining myself no response. But glares are in abundance.

"You know you have no choice," I remind Cara. "No one breaks a deal with Cage."

"He never completed his end of the bargain. I have two sisters," she reminds me, but even as she rebels, I watch the dread slide behind her gaze, recalling the chat she and Cage had about Hana.

It doesn't take Samson long to return. Without a word, he hands my bloody ax back to me, takes Leora by the arm, and starts dragging her toward the front of the building. "I'm ready to get out of these f*****g woods."

I turn toward my witch girl. "Did you enjoy my show?"

She eyes me with a narrowing gaze. "Do you mean killing two dead things that could barely stand on their own feet?" She tugs against my grip, though her bravery is just an illusion, seeing how she's trembling and how her gaze keeps darting around us like a scared little sheep. "And I can walk on my own."

"You lost that privilege with the s**t you pulled earlier. Plus, I'm talking about my strip show for you, my sweet sparrow."

That time she laughs, all fake of course, but I bet I'll be in her thoughts tonight.