Free Blood Moon by Angela Roquet Page A

over her black skinny jeans and cut-off tee
shirt. She waved her spatula and gave Logan a lopsided smile.
“Looks like we’ll be settin’ two extra places. Nick’s moving around better today,”
she said.
    It took Logan a second to remember that Nick
was the boy Zelda had patched up a couple of nights before. He
hadn’t gotten a good look at the kid, and with the recent events,
his suspicious nature went into overdrive.
    “ What’s all this?” he
asked, noticing the plates spaced around the table.
    “ It’s Monday,” Grant said,
coming through the back door with a pot of baked beans. He set them
on the table and then held the door open for Charlie, who carried
in a cookie sheet covered in bratwursts and meatballs. His bald
head bobbed as he hummed what Logan vaguely recognized as a
Christmas tune, and his garish Hawaiian shirt looked like someone
had barfed up their summer vacation all over him.
    Kerri came down the back staircase, taking
small, careful steps. The neck brace had been removed, but a thick
bandage was still taped over her shoulder, stretching up under her
ear. A blue ribbon was tied in her hair, and she cradled a basket
of dinner rolls against her stomach.
    Zelda gravitated to her, touching the girl’s
arm softly. Kerri smiled and then glanced up at Logan. “Thanks for
stitching me up.”
    He dipped his chin, giving her an
indifferent nod. Kerri was a nice enough girl, and she was probably
the only one of the rejects who had more than an eighth grade
education. Logan still kept his distance. Letting his guard down
with even one of them could spell a whole world of trouble.
    Selena had explained how pack mentality
worked. He recognized it among the rejects all the time—the way
they knit themselves together, entangling their lives in a net that
seemed to snare Zelda without her even seeing it. He wouldn’t let
them trap him too.
    A moment later, Pat and Jamie, the two most
recent additions to Zelda’s lot, arrived with a green bean
casserole and potato salad. Violet arranged three platters of
smoked pork and turkey in the center of the big oak table, and the
sides and condiments were wedged in between. Then Grant fetched a
pitcher of sweet tea out of the refrigerator and began filling
glasses for everyone.
    Logan followed Zelda to the table, taking a
seat beside her. He considered dismissing himself, but he had
promised to stay by her side. Any of her wolves would have given
their life for her, but it still wasn’t enough for his comfort.
    Nick was the last to join them, timidly
creeping down the back stairs with his broken arm in a sling. His
shoulder was still tightly bound, holding his arm against his body.
The kid looked like he’d had one too many sponge baths. He smelled
clean enough, but his greasy brown hair refused to lay flat.
Someone—Violet, Logan guessed—had helped him get his good arm
through a blue flannel shirt and draped it over the mass of
bandages holding him together.
    “ Have a seat,” Zelda said,
pointing him to a spot next to her.
    Logan suppressed a growl, wishing she had
placed him on the opposite side of the table so he could keep a
better eye on the kid. His nerves only worsened once everyone else
was seated around the table. Their collective aura engulfed him,
and he suddenly couldn’t breathe.
    Joy and gratitude radiated
from every single one of the rejects. Even the new kid. Especially the new kid,
his life so freshly spared. The swell of emotions hit Logan hard,
and he coughed into his fist, trying to hide the fact that he was
choking up.
    Violet held her hands out, beginning a chain
reaction, and everyone linked together. Logan grudgingly took Zelda
and Kerri’s hands and instantly regretted it.
    The energy in the room came alive in neon
rivers, arcing across his vision. It seemed to flow in circles to
and from Zelda. He saw it even when he closed his eyes, and he
could tell that it was healing her as much as it healed the
others.
    Maybe Selena was
wrong ,