Free Crying for the Moon by Sarah Madison Page A

die, discover that I had not lived .”
    For the first time in his entire existence, all the claptrap that humans made about soul mates finally made sense to Alex. The realization annoyed the hell out of him. He nodded abruptly and started walking again.
    The Subaru inched slowly along beside him until Alex sighed and stopped. When he looked over at Tate, he was frowning.
    “Did I do something wrong?” Tate didn’t look particularly bothered by the idea—just confused.
    Alex sighed, hesitated, and decided to say it outright. “No. I’ve just got some things on my mind. Look. Do me a favor, okay? Stay indoors the next few nights. Please.”
    Tate looked up at him for a long moment before slowly passing the tip of his tongue over his lips. “Anything for you, Alex.” His sultry smile turned into genuine amusement. “I just can’t say that with a straight face. I’m no good at flirting.”
    Alex wanted to kiss him right then and there. Instead, he blinked and said, “Is that what you’re doing?”
    “Trying,” Tate admitted. “But you’re a hard person to read, Alexei Novik.” They held eye contact as Alex focused on the sound of Tate’s heartbeat, noting with satisfaction that it was beating faster than usual. Alex started to speak when Tate smiled wryly and drove off with a wave.
    The first night of the nearly full moon, Alex found himself pacing restlessly in the living room. He’d built a stout fire, but it failed to comfort him. Darkness had fallen, but the moon had not yet risen. Nick’s pack was on the way; Tish had called earlier and Alex could hear the excitement in her voice as she’d spoken.
    He could feel the restlessness in himself as well. It had been a long time since he’d fed on human blood, and the smell and taste of it kept coming to mind, teasing him with the promise of satisfaction that only a real blood meal could give. He wondered what it would be like to stop feeding on humans altogether, to forego the coffin entirely. Would he begin to age like a normal person? Would he eventually die? The thought made him queasy and uncomfortable. The urge to feed was growing stronger. It wouldn’t be long now before the call of blood drove him to feed no matter how determined he was to hold out. The raw meat and bottled blood just wasn’t satisfying him anymore, despite the fact that he could order almost anything online these days. What if by refusing to allow himself to feed in a normal fashion, he suddenly snapped, taking the life of the next hapless person who crossed his path? What if it was Tate?
    See? This is why you need to feed while you can still control it. The insidious voice in his mind sounded suspiciously like Victor, and it annoyed him. He told the voice to shut the fuck up and noted with satisfaction when it did. He continued to wander about the house aimlessly, recognizing that it was going to be another long night and contemplating the best way to occupy his time until dawn. A Lord of the Rings marathon, perhaps? He glanced over at the stack of books piled onto the coffee table. Among the Scalzi and Tolkien now lay a copy of On Walden Pond.
    His vampire acquaintances would laugh at his dilemma. The cat, Tate, Nick’s pack, all of it was of his own making because he’d chosen to care , damn it. The irony hadn’t escaped him: had he stayed in the Life he would have cared about nothing other than himself. He had more ties now than he’d had in centuries of being a vampire. He couldn’t decide if this was a good or bad thing. He knew he felt more alive than he had in years, but the threat of loss haunted him.
    He realized he’d never witnessed a were during a change before and wondered if there were certain procedures to be followed, unwritten rules to be observed, the way there were in the Life. It suddenly occurred to him that maybe he should be a little concerned for his own safety, and something primeval inside whispered bring it on. He snorted at the audacity of his