Slaves to the Moon | DRAFT

XI ■ Chicago

Fergus Calling...

Looking down at the small screen, an agitated Gabriel swiped right before answering.

"Yes, what is it?"

His tone was anything but friendly, though in his defense, it looked like he hadn't slept in days.

"What do you mean she's gone?" The King hissed.

He had been sitting at a small table near the back of a parisian cafe when his eyes suddenly narrowed. As his royal Beta explained how Alexis had managed to trick all of them again, Gabriel's fist slammed a top the wooden table, easily cracking it down the center. Slowly the King rose, his entire body trembling as he attempted to control his beast and rage.

"Well then I guess you'd better find her." His voice was so deep, rumbling like thunder, it surprised even him as he spoke.

Pushing back, Gabriel tossed a few larger bills on top of the shattered table before heading towards the exit.

"I'm on my way," he informed Fergus before jamming the red button with his thumb.

With every calculated step, a terrifying undercurrent ripped through the quaint little cafe. The look on his face could have sent even the devil himself running for the hills. He was done playing nice-- she had betrayed him again! When he found her this time, Alexis had better be prepared...

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With a sharp intake of breath, my eyes immediately snapped open. After driving for six hours straight, I had pulled over for a bit of shut eye and a bottle of Jack. But now, the moon's ink burned the area around Gabriel's mark, making it nearly impossible to go back to sleep.

My fingers gingerly brushed against the searing hot flesh. I could sense his feelings of dissapointment, feel his heart break, his pain-- and then, as all those emotions faded into the background, I knew he was coming for me.

"Damn it!" I beat my hands against the steering wheel of the stolen SUV. What was I going to do now?

I still had about another four hours before reaching Freddy, but the royal transport was equipped with one of the most elaborate GPS tracking systems I had seen. On an older model, disconnecting a device like that would have been easy, but Gabriel was a King, and this particular vehicle seemed to be built better than Air Force One.

Grabbing my duffle bag and the half drunk bottle of whiskey, I slid out of the vehicle before slamming the door shut. I'd hoped that drugging Fergus with Hemlock would have given me a bit longer than the last time, but clearly I'd underestimated the speed of his healing.

'Another reason why we should just go back,' my wolf snarled.

From the moment I placed the keys into the ignition, she had paced back and forth-- agitated as fuck. But no matter how much she insisted, no matter how loudly she growled and whined, there was absolutely no going back.

Digging into my bag, I tore a strip of fabric off of one of my shirts and shoved it into the bottle of Jack. With a nervous glance over my shoulder, I flicked the lighter and immediately tossed the bottle of whiskey. Glass and liqour smashed against the windshield, and a moment later, the front end of the vehicle was completely engulfed in flames.

I turned and began walking down the Detroit 85, puling out the small ipod I had swiped from Fergus while he'd been sleeping. I decided he wouldn't miss it much since his taste in music was terrible, but I was feeling guilty about drugging the poor bastard again.