Read Darkmoon (#5) (The Cain Chronicles) for Free Online

accidentally killed Mrs. Peterson while under the influence of silver poisoning. But as much as Levi hated Rylie and her stupid harem of boy toys, he couldn’t admit to Tate that she was a murderer. All it would take was a word to bring the whole Office of Preternatural Affairs down on the pack.
    “It wasn’t Bekah and me, if that’s what you’re asking. We didn’t have anything to do with it.”
    Tate leaned toward him, pushing away from the wall. “I never would have thought it was you.”
    “You’ve got to stop the tour.”
    “But this is so much bigger than that. There’s evil out there, real evil—”
    “You’ve said that,” Levi interrupted. He grabbed Tate by the lapels. “Just don’t forget where you came from.”
    He kissed Tate.
    For an instant, he melted into Levi just the way that he used to, and it was like high school all over again. But less than two seconds later, he went rigid and shoved him away, wiping a hand over his mouth like there was something gross on him.
    Tate’s face was slack with confusion and horror.
    “Don’t forget,” Levi said again. He walked away, leaving Tate to his tour buses and giant American flags.
    The bus sank underneath Tate’s feet as he climbed inside. The door to the driver’s compartment was still open, so he could see that Wilhelm wasn’t there; he must have been having a second cigarette outside, since smoking wasn’t allowed in government vehicles.
    Tate slid the door shut behind him. The bus was comfortable on the inside, and would have been more than enough room for one or two passengers. It had a couple of couches that folded into beds and a full kitchen in back. But the bus was usually occupied by far more than just one or two people. The entire tour had a staff of eighteen: a hairdresser, someone who handled Tate’s wardrobe, analysts, a documentary team, security, some assistants. When they were on the road, it was far from comfortable.
    But the only person on his bus at the moment was a member of his security team, who was absorbed in his laptop. Maybe Tate could actually catch fifteen minutes of sleep before they hit the road again.
    Tate dropped onto the opposite couch, tipped his head back against the tinted window, and closed his eyes.
    Who was he kidding? There was no way that he would be able to get any rest while his nerves were still jangling from Levi’s kiss.
    Levi. God, it had been years.
    He had looked incredible. Handsome, smoldering, angry. And kissing him was just as good as Tate remembered—except for the fact that Tate’s platform with the Office of Preternatural Affairs included anti-gay sentiments. He was supposed to be the poster boy for honesty, innocence, and purity. A victim rising above the trouble.
    A victim who was considering jumping off the tour bus so he could find his ex-boyfriend again.
    Levi had claimed to be a werewolf. Could it really be true?
    “Took you a while to get back,” the security guy finally said, closing his laptop screen. He had a deep, pleasant voice, and so much gel in his hair that his coarse blond curls were plastered flat against his skull.
    Tate probably should have admitted that he had been speaking to a werewolf. Security wanted to know whenever something preternatural came within a block of the bus so that the team could take care of the “threat.” But whether or not he was a werewolf, Tate just couldn’t classify Levi as a threat. He would never hand his ex over to the OPA’s men.
    Especially not someone as scary-looking as his head of security, Cain Blacksburg.
    “I was just getting fresh air,” Tate said. “What are you up to?”
    “Doing some research.” Cain took an audible sniff of the air. “You have werewolf all over you.”
    Tate’s cheeks heated. “I can’t smell anything.”
    “That’s because you’re human .” He said that word like it was a racial slur. “Who were you in contact with?”
    “Must have been someone I shook hands with at the event,” he