Free Twelfth Moon by Lori Villarreal Page A

whispered.
    “What?”
    “It’s almosh…a full moon.” She hardly recognized the husky tone of her own voice. “You don’ know what that meansh.”
    Jonah leaned in menacingly. “I have no idea what you’re babbling about. Now…get…in…the…tub – or else.”
    His stern warning didn’t intimidate her as it was obviously intended. Instead, all she could think of was how his lips would feel against hers. She closed the gap separating their mouths, placing hers gently on his. They felt wonderful, warm, firm, his breath carrying the faint hint of whiskey.
    It took a moment for Jonah’s brain to register what the kid was doing. It was too far beyond the realm of reality. Recovering from his shock, he shoved Cade backward into the tub of steaming water, clothes and all. There was a loud thunk as the kid’s head hit the edge on his way down. He sank under the water, unconscious.
    Thinking quickly, as it would take more than a few shots to have any real effect on him, Jonah kneeled by the tub, grabbed Cade by the shirtfront, and pulled his head from under the water. In the process, the material of the kid’s shirt separated, revealing a delicate gold chain. Curious, Jonah pulled the chain the rest of the way out. On it was a locket – and Robert’s ring.
    Fury and rage burned through Jonah’s heart as he thought of his brother’s murder, the savageness of it – the blood. And the one who did it was right here in front of him. He shut his eyes tightly, tears squeezing through his dark lashes. He could just let the little bastard sink into the water and that would be the end of it.
    But no, he wanted revenge – restitution for what Cade had done. He wanted to punish him. Torture him. Slowly. Painfully.
    With shaking fingers, Jonah reached for the chain, viciously wrenching it from Cade’s neck. His action left behind an angry red mark, another to match the one already fading. Through his haze of anguish, he noticed a strange binding under Cade’s shirt. He pulled the gaping sides farther apart. Slipping his knife from his boot, he cut the binding.
    Jonah sucked in a startled breath at what was revealed.
    He was staring at a pair of perfectly shaped breasts.
    They were round, firm…enough to fill a man’s hands and then some. The skin on her chest was pale, almost translucent, the blue of her veins visible beneath it. And there was a bruise – where he’d slammed her with his elbow last night.
    The kid was a girl – goddammit – she was a woman!
    With fingers that still trembled, he removed the rest of her clothes. While she remained unconscious – probably more from the alcohol she’d consumed than the bump to her head – Jonah studied her body. She had a small waist, pleasantly curved hips, and long, slender legs. His gaze was drawn to the patch of black hair at the apex of her thighs and he grew hard.
    She was beautiful.
    How the hell had he missed that?
    He cursed at himself for his lustful reaction and yet, he was only a man.
    Using the washcloth and soap that had been placed on a nearby table, Jonah slowly, gently, washed her – washed away the dirt and grime. He cleaned her face, his touch tender on the bruises on her wrists and neck. She had other bruises, too. There was a large one on her hip, several marring the perfection of her legs, and a few on her back.
    He groaned out loud.
    He’d caused some of those bruises – maybe even most of them.
    His hand slipped up the inside of one thigh, his fingers detecting the only imperfection she probably possessed. He touched it lightly, tracing the raised shape. It was odd. It didn’t seem to be any kind of birthmark – it was too…symmetrical. He turned her leg so he could see it.
    There, on the inside of her thigh, branded into her delicate skin – was the letter ‘K’ surrounded by a circle.
    Jonah hung his head, closing his eyes, his forearms resting on the edge of the tub. “Oh, my God, Robert,” he whispered hoarsely. “What did you