Chapter 6
Chapter six
Luna
“This poor girl’s been living on nothing but scrub brush.”
I run my hands along the goat’s ribs, each one protruding through her dull, matted coat as I rub the medicated salve on her skin irritations. The months of neglect are written across her body like a heartbreaking story.
“Her owner claimed she was ‘just fine’ when animal services showed up.”
Maren adjusts the IV line, delivering much-needed nutrients and antibiotics.
“Yeah, I’ve got a few choice words for Mr. Anderson’s definition of ‘fine.’” Her voice drips with fury.
“Like how feeding an animal only three times a week and never cleaning their living space somehow equals responsible ownership.”
I bite back the surge of anger that always comes when facing cases like this.
It’s not the violent rage I have toward true abusers.
This is more like a slow burn of frustration edged with disgust. Mr. Anderson wasn’t evil, just negligent and ignorant.
Still, this sweet goat’s condition makes my teeth grind together.
“At least he surrendered her willingly when Deborah explained the situation,” I say, trying to find some good in the mess.
As one of our first sanctuary volunteers, Deborah is constantly on the lookout for instances of mistreatment and neglect.
She has a unique talent for convincing owners to surrender animals they otherwise wouldn’t, with a finesse I lack.
As Maren often reminds me, my emotions can get the better of me, despite my calm nature.
But Deborah has single-handedly helped rescue dozens of animals before neglect turned into something worse.
“True. But I still want to kick his ass.” Maren checks her cracked, overgrown hooves. “This girl’s got good bones under all this poor condition. With Dr. Foster’s tender care and more than enough food for her belly, she’ll be fine.”
Gertie, as we’ve named her, tolerates our attentions with surprising calm. She’s probably just grateful for gentle hands and real food. I stroke her neck, feeling the way she leans into the contact, starved for affection as much as proper nutrition.
“I didn’t tell you about my drive up this morning, did I?” Maren applies salve to an angry-looking sore.
“No. What happened?”
“There was a freaking antelope in the middle of Devil’s Gulch Road, holding up traffic. That’s why I was twenty minutes late.”
“Was it hurt?” I check Gertie’s IV site, but I don’t know why I bother. Maren is a master of IV placement.
“No, just taking a stroll.”
“Well, at least he wasn’t hurt.”
“But he was holding up traffic, Lu. He can’t do that on narrow two-lane roads.”
“I think he can do whatever he wants.”
Maren scoffs. “Of course, you’d take his side.”
“I think we’re done for now.” I pull off my gloves and step back from Gertie, who looks better than when we started.
“She’ll need the same treatment regimen for another week, but she’ll be okay.
Let’s put her in the recovery den for the night, and then we can move her to the deer enclosure tomorrow.
She and Buttercup can share for a day or two. ”
I smile, satisfied with another successful treatment. This is what grounds me. The healing and the purpose. The tangible good I can do in the world. Everything else is just noise.
Once she’s settled with a bowl of water and a mineral block, I roll my neck to work out the kinks. Maren’s hands on my shoulders, digging into the knots that formed in the last two hours, draw a long, low moan out of me.
“Hey now, no moaning allowed when my man’s out of town. You know what that does to me.”
I snort out a laugh as her firm hands trace my spine, pressing all the right spots, and I swear my knees almost buckle. “You staying up here tonight since he’s gone?”
“I can’t. I promised Estella I’d come for dinner. I haven’t seen her in a week because she was away at a church retreat.”
“Oh, no. She’s always a little wacky when she gets back from one of those.”
“Yeah, I know. You want to come with me so I don’t have to listen to a two-hour lecture about how I’m going to burn in hell for living in sin with JT before marriage?”
“My being there won’t stop her from lecturing you.”
“No, but she’ll spend at least half the time fretting over your failure to find a good Catholic boy to marry.”
Maren hits a spot on my right shoulder that makes my eyes roll back. “I’m not Catholic.”
“And that’s why you’re going to burn in hell, too. But at least we’ll be together. So you wanna come? She’s making spinach enchiladas.”
“Why didn’t you lead with that? Hell ya, I’ll come.”
Maren looks relieved. As much as she loves her grandmother, Estella Rodriguez can be a handful. But she took me under her wing when I met Maren in college. Without the two of them, I wouldn’t have made it through losing Grandpa. I love her as much as I love Maren.
“Come on.” I step away from the massage even though it’s the last thing I want to do. “Let’s do final rounds before calling it a day. Do you think Estella will let us make margaritas?”
“Not if Dr. Luna is driving home later. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a couple before we go.”
When I get back from dinner, I’m stuffed and tired and properly lectured for still being single. Thirty-two is considered nearing spinsterhood according to Estella.
She sent me home with enough leftovers for three days. I check on Gertie, who’s resting comfortably, and head toward the house.
A shiver runs down my spine. The unsettling sensation of being watched creeps over me again, like an icy wave. I pick up the pace, and as soon as I’m inside, I lock the door and check the windows before closing all the curtains on the first floor.
I’m greeted by Shadow and the girls, each of them demanding attention after I dared to leave them alone for over three hours. I drop to the floor and cuddle them all, glad for their presence, especially Shadow. He’ll keep me safe from the eyes in the woods.
Juni tries to open the pan of enchiladas with her paw before I swat her away.
“Don’t even think about that, missy. You’ll explode in the litter box if you try to eat that.”
I put the food in the fridge and double-check the back door lock before turning off all the lights and heading upstairs to take a shower.
The warm water feels good after the day I’ve had, and I don’t get out until it cools.
I slip into a tank top and some sleep shorts before walking to the window, my body heavy with exhaustion.
I glance outside, my eyes scanning the treeline.
Juni jumps up onto the windowsill, and I pet her as I search for any movement.
I know something or someone is watching me again.
I know it.
The darkness beyond the glass seems alive somehow, watching and waiting.
A rational part of my brain urges me to lock the window and close the curtains.
Instead, I again leave them open, with a wider gap than last night.
A small act of defiance against the fear, or perhaps an acknowledgment of the strange, curious thrill that accompanies it.
I glance at Shadow’s bed in the corner. It’s empty.
He must be curled up in the one beside the fireplace.
I leave the door cracked in case he wants to come in during the night, then I climb into bed.
Willow curls against my side while Sage nestles at my feet.
Juni remains in the window, her silhouette alert against the moonlight.
Does she sense what I sense? This invisible presence that seems to press against the glass?
I close my eyes, but sleep feels impossible. The darkness beyond my window pulses with secrets I’m not sure I’m brave enough to uncover. Yet I lie, curtains open, as if inviting whatever watches to come closer.
I adjust the pillow beneath my head and try to relax. Minutes pass, but sleep still doesn’t come.
I shift beneath the covers, but the damage is done. Maren’s teasing keeps echoing in my ears, overshadowing the fear that’s brewing inside me. My body responds to the illicit idea of someone watching me, my skin warming, and a low hum of longing stirring in my abdomen.
When was the last time I had a good fuck? Over a year, at least. Not since that one-night stand Maren reminded me of last night.
My work at the sanctuary fills my days, but my nights? My nights are empty.
I stare at the ceiling, tracing the shadows with my eyes.
This is insane. The idea of a stranger stalking me and taking me shouldn’t turn me on this much, but my body doesn’t care about logic.
I’m aware of each breath and each subtle shift of the sheets as I move, and it sends ripples of sensation across my sensitized skin.
I close my eyes and let my fingers slip beneath my tank top.
My palm cups my breast, thumb brushing over the taut peak in the center, until a faint moan slips out.
The fingers of my other hand drift beneath the waistband of my shorts, tracing the hollow of my stomach.
The movement is slow and teasing, an echo of hands I imagine pressing into my flesh. Goosebumps erupt along my skin.
My fingers find that sensitive bundle of nerves, and I circle my clit in small strokes. My back arches as an answering wave ripples through me. There’s no face to the stranger in my head, only eyes the color of storm-driven seas, the promise of strength in each slow touch.
I part my thighs and sink a finger inside, the slick slide sending a shock through my core.
I add another, winding my hips into a steady rhythm, pressing against my own hand as if he were here with me.
In my mind, the faceless man settles his weight on me.
Strong hands on my hips, lips at the nape of my neck, trailing fire across my collarbone, a body pressing mine into soft sheets.
I roll my nipple between my fingers. My body hums in response, the tension coiling tighter with each flick and roll of my fingers.
I whisper into the darkness, “Come for me,” as though he might step out of the shadows to claim me.
Silence fills the room save for the slick slide of flesh and the harsh rasp of air through my throat. The sensation consumes me, and my breath hitches. I sink my teeth into my lip to trap the sound, but Willow skitters away. She knows.
My walls shudder, and a single gasp tears free as I tumble over the edge in an explosion of warmth. Stars burst behind my closed lids, every nerve ending singing.
For a moment, the world outside vanishes—the sanctuary, the animals, Maren’s jokes. There’s only this. Me, my pulse pounding, and the hollow aftermath of pleasure that leaves me trembling in the quiet.