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Category: Aimee Easterling’s Excerpts (Page 2 of 10)

Matebranded Sneak Peek

Elspeth and OrionDo you want a preview of Matebranded, the first book in a brand new series? Then keep reading below. There are no spoilers and no reason not to start here no matter how many of my other books you’ve read. Except…

The prequel short story, Paws & Claus is currently FREE on all retailers in ebook form and 99 cents in audio for a short time. So grab that in your preferred format then come back here and read on.

***

Chapter 1

When is a wolf not a wolf? At home, where I played the adult yet still obedient daughter, keeping my inner beast under wraps for the sake of my adopted human family. At work, where I infiltrated dangerous shifter clans with practiced deception, using my furry scent to get in the door while wielding no obvious weapons other than a killer smile.

Tonight, though, I was neither at home nor at work.

I did need to touch base, though, before my time became entirely my own. Still, I toed off my shoes there at the edge of the wide-open desert, the cool night air making my inner wolf stir with familiar excitement. Then, before I succumbed to the urge, I forced myself to focus and text my boss.

Julius was not only my employer; he was also the closest thing I had to a father. Not that we were the touchy-feely sort. He’d be fine with me merely dropping a pin, ensuring he had my exact location if he needed it—fifty miles from where I was due to ferret out blood magic tomorrow and well within outpack territory where I was unlikely to run into anyone else.

Message relayed, I let my phone fall onto the driver’s seat and I closed my eyes, standing erect and listening to the dark.

The ping of a reply text tore through the silence, louder than it would have sounded before my ears started shifting. My fingers were still human enough to pick up the phone, though, and see that the missive wasn’t from Julius, but rather from his daughter.

Celeste was already thinking ahead to tomorrow, when I’d slide into the persona that made me into the Council’s secret weapon. There’d be lip-biting and lowered eyelashes. Feigned submission and, at just the right moment, a needle stuck into an unwary alpha’s arm.

Well, no, that’s what I was thinking about. Celeste was thinking past that to the moment when I’d bag the culprit then head home to the echoing mansion we shared with her father.

“Elspeth! Choose for me, please: Rom com or action flick? Pizza or popcorn?”

The answer was both, everything, obviously. My mouth watered and for one split second I could taste salt on my tongue, could feel our shared laughter filling the living room to bursting. Celeste was my opposite in so many ways, but whenever we were together we clicked.

We clicked…as long as I stayed human. As long as I kept my feral side under wraps, ignoring the way my inner wolf itched to stretch its legs and run wild.

As long as I never admitted that what I craved at the moment wasn’t popcorn but, rather, blood.

The distant scent of prey animals made my inner wolf itch now. My teeth sharpened as my hands curled into claws, reaching toward the sandy expanse beyond this isolated and silent gas station. I could almost see the terrified eyes of the critter I’d soon pounce upon, could almost feel flesh tearing beneath my fangs.

“You’re more than a wolf,” Julius had told me so many times. And that was true. I was much more than a wolf.

But, for one night, perhaps I didn’t mind being less.

***

Through lupine nostrils, the desert smelled like mesquite and sagebrush. No hint of wolf pee warned away outsiders the way it would have within a claimed territory. Instead, a hum of electricity I’d only felt in the outpack sped my feet to near flying while a distinct musk I’d grown familiar with during my previous visits to this region prompted me to lick my chops.

Peccaries were good eating. And, yes, I was well aware desert pigs had sharp tusks that could inflict significantly more damage than my canines. I knew their herds worked in unison just like wolf packs and that the largest grouping might contain four dozen individuals.

On the other hand, I wouldn’t have to mess up my takedown by looking small and meek the way I did on jobs. Game on.

Lowering my body closer to the earth, I transitioned from tracking to stalking. Swiveling my ears, I picked out the soft grunts and growls of the peccary herd, their vocalizations intermingled with chewing and digging. They didn’t sound alarmed, hadn’t noticed me creeping closer.

There was no moon to brighten the landscape. No glow of light pollution to assist my vision. But I could smell. My paws could feel. I could almost taste raw pork on my tongue.

And now I could see the faintest silhouettes of the animals I was approaching. A small one had wandered a good distance away from its neighbors. The meat would be tender. I angled myself toward the weanling. Tensed my muscles. Took off…

…and slammed directly into another wolf.

He was larger than me but for a moment I thought our collision was a mere accident. It was true that, with the wind blowing in such a way that I couldn’t smell him, he definitely should have caught my scent. But he didn’t growl. Didn’t raise his ruff in threat and pin back his ears the way wolves did during altercations.

Instead, he just got in my way. That time, then again and again as I tried to pad around him. I bared my teeth and he failed to return the threat, but he also resolutely refused to step out of my path.

Despite my best efforts, our standoff wasn’t silent. A peccary snorted. Teeth clacked together. Then they were stampeding away from us, disappearing into the desert. They’d be alert now. Not worth the chase.

I shifted, furious. Stayed on my knees so I could grab onto the wolf’s cheeks and drag him up until our eyes were at the same level. It was a dominance move, but he let me get away with it. Let me spit out my anger. “Cockblocker!”

Only then did he join me in humanity, my grasp on fur turning into fists cupping cheeks. A naked man not much older than my twenty-five years knelt knee-to-knee in front of me, his muscles and breadth making him roughly twice my weight.

Despite his daunting size, however, his scent was sweet as cactus flowers. The bristle-roughened skin of his face was warm beneath my knuckles. Warm and enticing. I found myself swaying inward before reality reasserted itself.

“Lone wolves are vermin,” a memory of Julius’s voice asserted.

Vermin might be extreme, but a lone wolf certainly wasn’t worthy of my attention. I settled back onto my heels just as the stranger’s lips curled upwards in a barely visible half-smile. His dark eyes glinted with starlight as he rumbled out a retort, “You intended to make love to the pigs?”

“I intended to eat one,” I back-talked, letting the spunk I usually hid turn even more audible. After all, wolves who hung out solo in outpack territory were generally those too submissive to survive in a clan. It wasn’t as if I was risking much. “Same thing you intended, presumably,” I couldn’t resist tacking on.

Abruptly, the stranger’s starlit eyes turned intense as he growled, “Smart wolves don’t hunt peccaries solo.”

My skin prickled. Maybe this stranger wasn’t so submissive after all. I’d acted without understanding the big picture and it was too late to pivot into dumb-brunette mode. I…

Then the flash of danger in his eyes faded so quickly I was left wondering whether I’d only imagined it. His hand rose, a single finger not quite touching my bare skin as it traced a line from my shoulder across my neck to the opposite shoulder. The heat of almost-contact made me breathless and my mind began playing crazy tricks.

What my eyes thought they saw: a strand of glowing dots momentarily rising upon my skin beneath where his hand drifted. What my body thought it felt: the same electricity that had seemed to buoy me up as I ran through the desert now coursing through my veins.

“What are you doing?” I demanded, crab-walking backwards then swearing as the sudden pain of a cactus spine embedded itself into the pad of my thumb. The jolt broke me out of the sensual daze the stranger’s attention had infused me with. Brought me back to the real world where even the earth bit back.

Bit and latched on. The spine didn’t want to come out easily. Instead, my efforts only worked it deeper into my flesh, the jerkiness of my motions not helping one bit.

I was furious with somebody. Perhaps with myself. Perhaps with the stranger. The spine was definitely part of it and I chose not to look deeper into my anger than that.

In front of me, the stranger let me poke at the spine until it became clear that I was only making matters worse left-handed. Only then did he gesture at my wound. “May I?”

I shouldn’t have, but I nodded. And when his long fingers encircled my much smaller wrist, luminescent spirals curled up from the point of contact. They slid across my forearm and veered toward my elbow, tickling at skin level while twisting and tugging deep within my gut.

I held my ground this time though. Whatever the light show was about, it wasn’t hurting either of us. It wasn’t a threat, so it was irrelevant.

Only once the stranger was sure I wasn’t going to jerk away again did he bend his head and close his teeth around the spine. As if he was a wolf, which should have been disgusting but…wasn’t. Instead, I watched, enthralled, as his lips brushed across the pad of my thumb, the resulting glow illuminating his face like Christmas lights.

He was beautiful, but not in the way one might expect. This wasn’t the rough attractiveness of a lone wolf or even the manicured perfection of a vain pack shifter. Instead, the lights erupting out of my skin cast tribal tattoos across the chiseled contours of his nose and chin, turning handsomeness into something otherworldly.

He was unlike anyone else I’d ever met.

Or maybe the vision was yet another trick of the night. Because the stranger tugged sharpness out of my flesh with one quick jerk. Lights dulled as pain flared. Cold replaced heat as his hand retreated.

“To answer your question,” he murmured. “I’m not doing anything. We’re mates.”

I didn’t feel tough, but toughness was all I had to fall back on at that moment. “Mates?” I forced myself to snort while reminding myself that wolves without a pack weren’t precisely rational. No matter how physically enticing this stranger might appear, I’d never see him again.

Which meant it was time to distance myself in the easiest way possible—with words. “So that’s how lone wolves get laid,” I finished, adding a twist of sarcasm to my voice.

I expected him to explode into anger. After all, hell hath no fury like a male werewolf scorned.

Instead, that tiny half-smile curled his lips again. “Think about it, then come see me. I live that way.” His gesture was vague. West somewhere. “My name is Orion. The bond will pull you where you need to go.”

I was too shaken to speak and I didn’t need words anyway. Letting my wolf body replace my human body, my receding rump said everything necessary. I trotted away in the opposite direction from the one in which Orion had pointed, back toward my car where granola bars would fill my belly and locks on the doors would prevent anyone from disrupting my slumber.

Three times along the way, however, I peered back over my shoulder to make sure the stranger hadn’t followed. He hadn’t.

I was oddly disappointed that he found it so easy to let me go.

***

Chapter 2

I feigned a mechanical breakdown fifty miles down the road the next morning. As soon as a distant silhouette of a sentry suggested I’d entered the monitored portion of the rotten pack’s territory, I braked aggressively, wobbling the wheel as I pulled over onto the shoulder of the two-lane highway. Getting out, I pretended someone on my phone was walking me through checking the obvious, which I did very badly. Far more adeptly and subtly, I flipped open the plastic cover to the fuse box and loosened the fuel-pump relay.

Because packs like this didn’t like outsiders sniffing around. But if my car wouldn’t start, they couldn’t very well send me away.

By the time I was done, the sound of a vehicle on the road behind me suggested I wouldn’t even have to walk to the closest mechanic to put my plan into motion. Tires slowed then stopped right in the middle of the road, a hint that the driver was a local well aware of traffic patterns, or the lack thereof.

Meanwhile, hairs prickled on the back of my neck. This wasn’t just a local. This was a wolf.

“Problem?”

I turned to find a thirty-something woman in braided pigtails considering me with her beast rampant behind her eyes. But I couldn’t smell her signature aroma, nor could I make out the pack scent that should have formed a foundation underlying that signature.

Instead, I smelled something very different. The subtle yet very present salty aroma of blood.

This was exactly what the Council had sent me to deal with. Blood magic at the alpha level rippling down to impact the entire clan—one of several issues too volatile for individual packs to handle solo. The werewolves involved were never glad to be intruded upon, but well-timed takedowns could prevent awfulness up to and including inter-pack warfare.

I was helping, not that the woman in front of me would see it that way. So I didn’t ask about the blood aroma, which clung due to her leader’s actions. Just got in when she offered me a ride and poured out my well-prepared sob story.

My car wouldn’t start. Could she possibly arrange a tow?

“Not a problem.” Empty desert flowed past outside our windows, but the woman didn’t look at me. Was she concerned I’d notice the wolf lurking behind her eyes, a wolf that should have been asleep during a situation that was far from perilous? “I’m Maya by the way,” she introduced herself.

“Elspeth,” I answered. Then, figuring I might as well go for broke, I added, “Could you possibly take me to your alpha? This is embarrassing, but I just don’t… I…”

“You’re a woman alone.” Her hand reached across the center console to cover mine, the contact deeply soothing in a way it shouldn’t have been with the scent of blood still redolent between us. “You’re asking for safe harbor, but you don’t have to ask. You’ll find what you’re looking for in town. There’s a cafe. Do you need any cash?”

Women were harder to hoodwink than men. Women understood that just because I was small and curvy, that didn’t mean I was defenseless.

But women also understood well-founded fears. I bit my lip and peered out the window, watching as the side road my research had suggested led to pack central passed by on our right. Then I continued to tell the truth—if not the full truth—while drawing upon the experience still at the forefront of my mind.

“I stopped last night in outpack land,” I told Maya. “I… There was a lone wolf… He expressed an interest and…” I swallowed.

The scent of blood grew stronger. “You’re concerned he’ll follow you. He won’t. We watch our boundaries.”

That assertion was hard to counter when Maya had found me mere minutes after I pretended to break down. So I didn’t argue. Just begged. “Please.”

“We’ll send someone out to handle the lone wolf,” Maya promised. “Just because no one owns the desert on the other side of our borders doesn’t mean we allow inappropriate behavior from vagrants. Describe him.”

Despite everything, my cheeks heated. I’d messed up. I couldn’t sic shifters dabbling in blood magic on a lone wolf who had, in reality, acted like a perfect gentleman, albeit a delusional one. “No, don’t bother. I’m overreacting. Orion didn’t do anything inappropriate.”

The lone wolf’s name tasted oddly sweet on my tongue, which might explain why I’d offered information that didn’t need to be offered. Maya’s response, though, was odder than my slip.

The car screeched to a halt so fast I would have slammed into the dashboard if my seatbelt hadn’t caught me. Then Maya stared at me with that wolf even more wide awake behind her pupils. “You met Orion in outpack territory? Orion scared you so badly you want to ask for help from our alpha?”

I nodded confirmation and she huffed out something that sounded an awful lot like mother of a whelp-mauler before yanking the steering wheel all the way to the left to make a U-turn.

“Where are we going?” I asked when an explanation didn’t appear to be forthcoming.

The scent of blood intensified further and Maya didn’t look at me as she answered. “Looks like I’m taking you to my alpha after all.”

***

The pack central I’d been sent to infiltrate resembled any other patch of desert until we were almost at its doorstep. Then, as our vehicle eased its way between close canyon walls, camouflaged gardens began to pop up amid the sandstone.

In satellite photos, the area must have looked like a few pockets of soil had provided a foothold for cliffrose and desert broom. Up close, however, I could see strawberries dangling from hanging planters. Crisp lettuce ready to turn into salads. A peach tree arching above everything else.

I’d been inside dozens of under-the-radar pack centrals and none had been as cleverly arranged as this.

Leaning into my pleasure, I did what everyone loved—I praised Maya’s home. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this,” I gushed. “It’s beautiful. Your alpha must be one of the good ones.”

Instead of relaxing into my enthusiasm the way I’d expected her to, Maya simply shrugged as she pulled up underneath an overhang where the car’s glass and chrome wouldn’t glint and catch the sunlight. “He’s unique,” she said as we both got out and edged around the only other vehicle present—a van. Maya’s long braids swung behind her as she strode purposefully into a crack in the sandstone that appeared entirely natural…until we passed through and I saw that the bedrock we’d parked on had transitioned into poured concrete.

Ahead were the kind of thick metal doors humans installed to slow the spread of fires and shifters used for more defensive purposes. If I followed Maya through, would I be able to get back out again?

“Will your alpha be angry with you for bringing me here?” It wasn’t hard to add a quaver to my voice and I paired that with rounding my shoulders so I’d look even smaller than my actual five feet two inches. “I can wait outside. I don’t want to cause any trouble…”

“He’ll definitely want to see you,” Maya promised, but she didn’t bother glancing in my direction. Instead, she tilted her chin upward in a way that suggested there was a facial-recognition camera embedded in the wall somewhere above eye level. I quickly turned my own head away, watching from the corner of one eye as Maya waited for the click of a disengaging lock then pushed the door open to lead me inside.

It wasn’t optimal to enter an enclosed space with a locking exit door, especially when I had very little information to go on. But I’d found my way out of worse pinches and I could almost smell success. My heart rate elevated, but not out of fear.

Instead, I stifled a smile as I ran through the game plan: Track down the alpha. Get him alone. Then subdue him with the sedative hidden in one of my pockets.

Finding the alpha turned out to be easy. The space Maya had brought me to was a gym full of fifteen shifters ranging in age from their teens up to their sixties. They were sparring hand-to-hand, none of them particularly adept at it, while a man with the aura of pack leader called out corrections.

Well, he did that for a moment. Then he tilted his wheelchair up on its back wheels so he could pivot to face us even though Maya hadn’t called out a greeting or caught his attention in any overt way.

I’d already guessed as much, but his ferocious eyes suggested I’d found my target. No wonder he took the time to look me over, which was perfectly fine since that gave me the opportunity to do the same.

Other than those alpha eyes, heavy muscles were his most distinguishing feature. The impressive physique wasn’t limited to his upper body, either, the way I’d expect from someone used to wheeling himself from point A to point B. Whatever kept this man from walking, it had occurred recently.

Was the injury temporary? Or was a permanent disability the reason the pack’s alpha had descended into the quick fix of blood magic?

It would have been easy to pity him, but the desert southwest seemed to spawn alphas who thought it was a good idea to kill their pack mates and use that dying burst to boost their own power. It was a rot and it wouldn’t happen again here, not after today.

My adrenaline spiked further as I went on the attack…obliquely of course.

“Sir.” I dropped my eyes to the floor submissively even though I could feel the alpha’s gaze continuing to scan me. “I appreciate you letting me come. I know you’re very busy and very important. I know I have no right to your time.”

I didn’t need much time, actually. Just a few minutes alone with him to complete the takedown without prompting a full-scale battle. Afterwards, his pack would bounce back in short order. The ingenuity of their residence spoke to a bedrock stability that a few months of off-the-rails alpha couldn’t fully erode.

“Elspeth,” the alpha acknowledged. The fact he knew my name without Maya having texted ahead proved that the pack bond was still strong enough to allow information to be passed along it. “We have a few minutes left in this session. Care to join in?”

I winced even though my chin was still tucked so low no one could see the gesture. They’d hear the uncertainty in my words, though, when I murmured, “Oh, I don’t know how…”

“You should.” This was Maya, sounding annoyed at the world that had created me. “A woman who can’t defend herself is like a fish on a bicycle. Sue will show you the ropes.”

This was a sidetrack, but sometimes it was necessary to go with the flow to minimize casualties. I let my chin come up as I followed Maya’s gesture to the dowdy middle-aged woman who could have been my mother if she’d had me very young. From what I’d seen when coming in, Sue hadn’t been the worst of the fighters but she was far from the best. She was, however, safest-looking for a scared female outsider to grapple with.

My cover was holding. Maya was being kind.

I glanced up through my hair at the alpha rather than taking Maya up on her offer. “Sir?”

“Leave your shoes by the door,” he suggested, a glint of humor softening his warrior-like face. “Wouldn’t want another accidental nose break.”

At that, all eyes flew to a teenaged boy on the other side of the room. The youngster flushed beet red and muttered at his feet, “I didn’t mean to.”

This was good-hearted teasing. I saved the teenager from another round by toeing off my sneakers then padding over to join Sue. My hands rose in front of my face as if I was a toddler playing peekaboo. Someone behind me snickered.

Then cold swept through the gym so hard and fast it couldn’t have resulted from anything other than an alpha command sent down the pack bond, one I couldn’t hear but could easily see the results of. Trainees plus Maya all fled without bothering to grab the shoes lined up along the wall near the entrance. Their faces twisted, their eyes averting from me as if part of the command had involved not just leaving the room but specifically removing themselves from my presence.

This was exactly the sort of over-the-top pack-leader behavior I would have expected from an alpha dabbling in blood magic. But the man in the wheelchair wasn’t the source of the flurry of activity. He was fleeing along with everyone else. Had already pushed himself through the door and left me alone in the gym by the time a man I hadn’t expected to see again strode in from outside.

Orion looked exactly the same as he had last night and also entirely different. How I’d taken him for a lone wolf was now a mystery as his gaze spun across me in a way it hadn’t in the desert. Intrusive. Challenging. Ten times as dominant as the man in the wheelchair.

I stared right back, daylight unveiling details that the dim night had concealed. Undeniable strength, both outer and inner, contrasted with last night’s vibe of gentleness. Sunlight streaming down through skylights kissed his chiseled jaw, accentuating a magnetism that was all alpha.

He waited until the last footstep faded into silence then he raised his eyebrows. “What are you doing in my territory, Elspeth Darkhart?”

***

Chapter 3

My surname wasn’t Darkhart, but that was the name I’d used the one time my face had been caught on camera. Correction: the first time my face had been caught on camera. Because Orion must have snagged a shot of me this morning then run it through a hefty database to come up with that identification so quickly.

“Are you recording this?” I asked, eying the walls and ceiling while trying to figure out the location of the camera I’d missed.

“No.” He was in my space before I saw him move. In daylight, his bulk was overwhelming, both a threat and an enticement. But his cactus scent had turned prickly—less flowers and more spines—as he repeated his demand. “Why are you here?”

“You invited me.” Truth yet nowhere near the whole truth. And…it was hard to focus on mincing words when Orion had settled into a fighting stance so close I could feel his heat against my skin. “Do you intend to beat me up?” I asked in disbelief.

Orion’s eyes darkened as he moved in closer, his broad shoulders blocking my view of the exit. “Does it seem like I could?” he countered, using one of his feet in an attempt to sweep away both of mine.

I say attempt because I was already on the move, dodging with a grace I’d honed over a lifetime of practice. Yes, my hormones were reacting to Orion’s proximity. My breath was coming a little too quickly, my heart beating faster than it had when I thought the man in the wheelchair was this pack’s alpha. But I ignored that attraction and dropped the feint of incompetence I’d donned moments earlier.

After all, I’d already let Orion see who I was back in the desert. Might as well be myself and win now.

Winning, when dealing with a large and powerful man, didn’t just involve the quick dodge I’d started with. It also meant messing with my opponent’s head. In this case, I chose to focus on the question he’d asked me twice already. The one that lingered behind those obsidian eyes, unresolved by my assertion that I’d come here in response to his invitation last night.

“You didn’t tell me you were an alpha,” I murmured, landing a swift kick to his side. With Celeste, the blow would have had her flat on her ass. Orion merely staggered back a single step.

As he did, he growled out a question. “Does me being an alpha make a difference?”

The chop he paired with his words forced me to backpedal physically, if not verbally. My focus tunneled as I tried and failed to land another strike.

Looked like Orion had already learned my favorite offensives. Which meant I needed to dig deeper and become less predictable. Hit him where it really hurt.

“Yeah, you being an alpha does make a difference,” I said, watching for the moment his mouth would pinch. The moment he’d read the subtext: that I hadn’t been interested in Orion solely for his own sake but was willing to check him out now that I knew he was a pack leader. He seemed like the sort of guy who would be disappointed in someone who craved secondhand power, and that descent into disappointment would provide the perfect opening for my next attack.

Only, Orion didn’t react. Instead, he offered me information he shouldn’t have had access to. “You entered a pack in New Mexico six months ago under false pretenses. Their alpha disappeared that evening and wasn’t seen again.”

The next blow I attempted to land was less important than the question I paired it with. “What would you say if I told you that the alpha you’re referring to was using blood magic to solidify his leadership?”

“I’d call bullshit.” Orion’s words were more adamant than anything I’d heard from him previously. He didn’t attack, though. Just circled, his gaze so intent it felt like he was trying to pry open my skull and peer inside my brain. “I knew Prince,” he continued. “His pack was solid and he was honorable. Where is he?”

Orion could have lashed out physically in conjunction with his final words and I might have been too busy thinking to block properly. Instead, he continued padding around me, waiting for my response.

And words emerged before I could stop them. “I don’t know.”

I hadn’t meant to say that. But the scent I remembered from the desert—sweet as cactus flowers—was even more thorny now than it had been earlier. Orion honestly cared about his missing friend.

Not only that, my reference to blood magic didn’t appear to have rung any personal bells with him. Which was decidedly odd since my intel clearly said the alpha of this pack was the guilty party.

I only realized my attention had wandered when Orion’s hand landed on my arm. The contact was searingly intense despite the thin cotton shirt that separated us. It was also a warning that I’d made a fatal mistake.

I’d let myself be grabbed by someone larger and stronger. I hadn’t made such a beginner flub since I was twelve.

My opponent didn’t toss me to the ground, however. Didn’t pull me in close to threaten me further. Instead, his voice gentled. “Why are you here, Elspeth?”

I couldn’t win this match overtly, so I bit my lip and peered up into those dark eyes that had glinted with starlight only twelve hours earlier but were now shuttered and lightless. Then I played my final card.

***

Ten years ago, when I was a naive teenager, our trainer had taken me aside after a lesson. Just me, not Celeste also, which I understood when Gabi started delving into werewolf-specific abilities.

“And then there’s the mate bond,” she continued after running through a verbal summary of the pros and cons of going lupine during battle.

I rolled my eyes. “I thought we were talking fighting. Did Julius ask you to tell me about the birds and the bees? Because I get it. Safe sex. Consent. Consider me educated.”

Gabi’s lip quirked. At the time, she’d been in her mid twenties and Celeste and I had both wanted to be her. We’d practiced her signature lip quirk for hours in front of the mirror, but we never managed the insouciance Gabi pulled off with ease. “Glad to hear it,” she told me. “But, no, that’s not what this is about. When you’re dealing with male werewolves, you’re always going to be smaller and weaker. Banter and agility will only take you so far. Someday, you may need another edge, and that edge is the mate bond.”

She’d gone on to describe a connection so powerful that its formation tended to knock even the most powerful alpha off his game for a handful of minutes. “If you’re ready for it, though,” she told me, “then you can work through it. Compartmentalize. Pleasure, wonder, amazement—it’s a simple bodily reaction.”

“Like an orgasm,” I suggested, trying to sound edgy.

“Sure,” Gabi agreed, lip quirk promising she knew far more about orgasms than I did. “Today, we’ll mimic the formation of a mate bond a few different ways. See how you fight while being tickled. While eating something delicious. Later, we’ll use a stimulant.”

My eyebrows winged upward. “Julius approved this?” Julius never even let me and Celeste drink coffee. He said it would stunt our growth.

Gabi nodded, which gave me leeway to keep asking questions. “I can’t mate more than once though. Can I?”

“You can mate as many times as you like,” she assured me. “Just break the bond when you’re through with it. One and done.”

Over the intervening decade, I’d trained myself until I was confident I could continue fighting through anything. A fractured bone. A drugged haze. Yes, even when overwhelmed by the formation of a mate bond.

But I’d never actually used the latter technique. Had told myself I was holding back because I liked having one bonus tool in my arsenal that no one other than Gabi would ever consider a possibility.

Now, despite Orion’s hand on my arm, I wasn’t precisely desperate. So why did I open my mouth and tell the alpha in front of me: “I’m here to accept your proposal to mate”?

Keep reading in Matebranded!

 

Paws & Claus

Would you like a FREE prequel to my upcoming Rune Wolf series? Then grab your copy of Paws & Claus now, or keep reading the beginning below:

***

Christmas wolf

“What you’re doing,” Maya complained as she nudged at my lupine nose with a jingle-bell-tipped boot, “is ten times worse than the single guy who sleeps in a twin bed and doesn’t understand how that broadcasts his disinterest in a serious relationship.”

A sisterly lecture. Precisely how every Solstice-eve day should start. I came up onto four paws then stretched into full downward dog with a wide yawn.

“You’re not even going to shift in order to hold this conversation?”

Our one-year age difference shouldn’t have mattered now that we were both pushing thirty. Still, this was the day our pack would come together for our first winter celebration under a new alpha—me, unfortunately. Having my only quiet moment intruded upon provoked an entirely juvenile urge to frustrate my sister back.

Until, that is, I recalled what Maya was going through and immediately corrected my mistake. Turning my back and shifting into humanity, chilly air instantly pebbled my skin into goosebumps. Then, as I did up the buttons on the flannel shirt I’d pulled on over jeans, I apologized. “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. You need to talk? Let’s talk?”

Behind me, Maya’s voice turned as brittle as the ice we seldom saw here in southern Arizona. “I don’t want to talk about…that.”

Enough with the buttons. I turned around and drew my sister into a hug even though her shoulders immediately went rigid and the holly pinned to her sweater jabbed through my shirt and into my skin. “What do you want to talk about then?” I murmured into her hair.

“You. This.” Maya’s voice was muffled by my shoulder. Dampness soaked through the shirt I’d so recently donned, but that was the only evidence of her crying as she continued to nag. “Carting a dog bed around to a different house every night is stupid. It has to stop.”

She clearly preferred argument over consolation. So I obliged her. “We did it as pups.”

“Because our alpha was trying to force us out by refusing to grant us a human bedroom!”

“And I’m trying to hold the pack together. Being near the alpha is a comfort.” Plus, I could only spend so much two-legged time around pack mates before my brain started buzzing with introvert overload. Letting my wolf take over for a little while helped.

“Being near the alpha would be more of a comfort if the alpha actually took care of his own needs first,” Maya rebutted. If we’d been ten and eleven, she probably would have blown her nose on my shirt to spite me. I almost wished she had.

Instead, she pulled out of my arms, eyes redder than they’d been a minute ago. And she laid down the law as only a big sister could. “Put on the holiday sweater I bought for you. Consider doing something nice for yourself. And no more sleeping around.”

***

Of course, the five-year-old daughter of the home I’d opted to spend the night in overheard Maya’s last words. “What’s sleeping around, Mommy?” Isabella asked as we lingered over the breakfast table, the bees in my head just barely starting to wake up and churn my thoughts into what, by midday, would become a frenzy. Meanwhile, the sweater Maya had left scratched my skin as much as it had my eyeballs when I made the mistake of glancing in a mirror.

I’d needed those lost ten minutes of solitude in order to pretend to love the holidays. Still I couldn’t resist cracking a grin as the little girl’s mother spat out her coffee all over the kitchen table now.

“Who said anything about sleeping around?”

“Maya,” Isabella tattled. “She told Orion to stop it.”

And…that was my cue to deflect before making my escape. “Where are you going to hang your stocking?” I asked Isabella. The overexcited child turned sparkling eyes on her parents, I picked up my dog bed, stepped out into the morning light…

…And deflated. This wasn’t a pack central fit for holidays.

At my command, we’d retreated into cliff-side dwellings after losing our old alpha months ago. The goal was to ensure that our weakest pack members—like Isabella—weren’t easy to track down if another clan decided our transitional status turned us into easy pickings.

To that end, our strongest fighters and I spent time every day making our old residences appear lived in. We severely limited traffic to our canyon location so the narrow track leading here would look untrafficked. There were no spur-of-the-moment hunts and definitely no howling, and I chewed out pack mates who so much as used flashlights outside after dark.

We were safe here. Our kids were safe here. Safety was worth rules and rock-wall-view claustrophobia.

So why were three unfamiliar vehicles racing up the canyon floor toward the heart of our clan’s den? Why was wind swirling around them the way it did when desert magic wanted to send me a warning I couldn’t miss?

Because the worst had happened. All of our stealth measures had failed and it was time to face the expected invasion.

Paws & ClausI dropped the dog bed, donned my fur, and leapt toward the not-really-staircase descending the cliff face far faster than I would have approved for any other pack mates. No wonder Maya met me at the bottom, already grousing.

“What happened to your sweater?”

I whapped her with my tail. There was a time to be my big sister and a time to be my second. Now was the latter.

The intensity of my concern whipped her around to face the oncoming danger and her voice turned sharp. “Got it. Assembling the troops now.”

Then she scrambled back up the same stairs I’d recently come down while I sprinted toward the closest vehicle. It looked like a tank from my lupine perspective, but the view from the cliff-side terrace promised it was actually a civilian Hummer. Still quite capable of swerving toward me and squashing me pancake flat. Also quite capable of carrying at least a dozen wolves, which didn’t even take into account the capacity of the vehicles behind.

But the Hummer didn’t speed up and it didn’t aim for me. Instead, it screeched to a halt, brake noises suggesting the others were stopping also. Then a woman unfolded herself from the driver’s seat, a woman who was entirely human even though she reeked of werewolf. I’d seen her picture once but it took me a moment to place her.

“We’re here to beg sanctuary,” said the second of the only nearby alpha I considered a friend.

***

Keep reading in Paws & Claus!

Wolf’s Choice Sneak Peak

The final book in my Time Bites series is live and I’m including a sneak preview below. But there are definitely SPOILERS here. If you’re behind, please start with Wolf Trap before you read any further…

***

​Chapter 1

Wolf's ChoiceIf I’d owned a business card, it would have read: “Spirit. Temporary inhabitant of a human body. Recovering supervillain.” Trouble was, dumpster divers don’t tend to print business cards.

Yes, switching from world domination to survival mode took me down a notch. Then, right about the time I got the hang of caring for the needy meat suit I inhabited, the past decided to rear its ugly head.

Like most evenings, I was pushing my shopping cart full of belongings toward the bridge I considered home sweet home when the gaze first burned the back of my neck. That wasn’t out of the ordinary. I’d noted watching eyes before.

But in the past they’d always been creepy, not caressing. This non-physical touch, in contrast, wrapped me up in all the warmth my threadbare coat lacked.

Unfortunately, when I turned and stared across the busy city street to find the source of today’s gaze, the eyes barely hidden behind a car’s windshield turned out to belong to someone I recognized. Not just recognized—had been doing my level best to avoid for weeks.

Drake was a werewolf who had zero reason to wish me well and a dozen reasons to punish me for various episodes of murder and memory theft. His mate was even less likely to join my fan club, and she was currently making moves to exit the vehicle. Beside her, Drake clenched his chiseled jaw, dark brows lowering. His gaze became yet more intense.

And even though running was the obvious reaction, my wobbly muscles tried to tell me I should stay where I was and take in Drake more fully. He was intriguing, tantalizing…

Squashing the urge, I turned down an alley like a rat darting into the first shred of shadow, a stream of questions flowing through my head.

Where can I hide? How can I get there without being followed? Why did Drake’s eyes sear through my skin so pleasurably that I didn’t want to run away?

I failed to realize I’d left my shopping cart behind until I was already on the first step of a five-story fire escape. Bad news since, at the very bottom of the shopping cart, I’d also abandoned my sword. The mainstay of my existence. Without it, I might cease to exist.

Still, I couldn’t double back now. Not with Tru in the alley behind me, her silence more ominous than if she’d shouted imprecations.

Regret at what I’d done to her made me peer back over my shoulder even though doing so risked a stumble and fall down to pavement that this human body wouldn’t be able to handle. To my surprise, my pursuer was no longer pursuing. Instead, she was heading back the way she’d come.

She’d turned away, but a flicker of movement from the other end of the alley materialized into her mate, who must have gone the long way around to cut me off. Drake was tall, lithe, and darkly handsome…and his job involved execution and torture. No wonder his gray eyes bored into mine like coals that don’t look hot but, on contact, burned.

Strangely, though, the shot of emotion that burst through me at the moment wasn’t fear. My mouth filled with saliva; my heart pounded so hard it sounded like a snare drum. And this time I couldn’t force myself to turn away as my gaze roamed over my pursuer from head to foot.

Straight hair fell across his forehead, swaying slightly in the breeze. Muscles flexed beneath a suit perfectly tailored to show off his physique. And even though he wasn’t sprinting, his long legs ate up the distance far faster than I’d covered it.

Right. I’m being chased. No time to paint a mental picture.

Ignoring whatever weirdness was going on in my body, I finally managed to rip my gaze away so I could speed the rest of the way up the rickety fire escape. And at the rooftop, I didn’t pause to soak in the view or push wind-whipped hair out of my face. Instead, I forced a brain that wanted to skip around between ten thousand erratic thoughts to focus on the here and now.

Tru was tenacious, so I doubted she’d given up on catching me. Likely she’d thought of another way up to roof level and was planning to cut me off if I traveled in the obvious direction back toward my shopping cart. That way, buildings sat close together, the air space between them easy to hop over if you didn’t look down and did keep your nerve.

So I turned left instead of right. Took a running leap and surged across a gap I wasn’t so sure my human body could handle.

It almost couldn’t. I landed hard, knees banging into the sharp edge, feet dangling into space, hands scrabbling for purchase against smooth roof metal.

Meanwhile, the wind picked up, buffeting me and trying to knock loose my already precarious balance. Sweat slicked my fingers and my breath scraped raw in my throat. I was afraid to move for fear I’d fall.

And the world slammed into sharp focus. This body wanted to survive. My soul, such as it was, wanted to stay grounded in flesh even if that flesh was currently screaming pain from knees and elbows. I ached where muscles tensed into cramping, yet every gasping inhale felt like a gift.

One I might not hold onto for much longer. Because I was slipping, the weight of my lower body carrying me down across the slanted rooftop. Dislodged debris scattered beneath my desperate fingers, tiny pebbles plunking one by one onto hard ground far below.

I’d be down there joining that debris soon.

Then a voice carried across the gap. It had to be Tru’s mate, but his rumble was musical rather than raspy the way I remembered. The shivers quaking through me inexplicably lessened even though Drake was no less dangerous than the threat of gravity.

Meanwhile, his words made no sense when he had every reason to wish me ill. “Kami. Focus. There’s a vent three inches from your left hand. You don’t even need to turn your head. Just feel for it then grab hold.”

A trick. If I’d been fully kami, I would have believed that easier. But his gaze on my back was as warm as the dirty sleeping bag I’d left behind in my shopping cart. As soothing as the wandering cat who’d curled up against my belly two nights prior.

For one long moment, I wavered. Then I moved my hand.

The vent was cold and almost sharp enough to cut through my skin. But I didn’t care. It was solid, unlike the debris that had turned the rest of the roof slippery. The handhold provided enough leverage and stability so I could scramble away from the drop. Could find my feet and stand.

Not that there was any safe way off this building. My throbbing legs warned against trying to repeat the same leap I’d recently endured, even if a werewolf wasn’t currently blocking that exit. Meanwhile, the building opposite the one where Tru’s mate stood was higher up and even further away than the one where I’d started.

To make matters worse, the roof I’d made it onto wasn’t meant to be walked across. So there was no door down into the interior. No fire escape running up the outside.

Which left two other sides of the building as potential exit routes. One dropped straight down to the alley, the other to a main thoroughfare. There were no handy awnings to soften the fall.

My legs transitioned from throbbing to full-on shaking. Tru’s mate might have saved me. But he now had me quite thoroughly trapped.

“I know the outlook appears bleak,” my pursuer said, words just loud enough to hear over the wind. “Reminds me of the time I took the bet that I could stay on the back of a water buffalo for thirty seconds. Not a good idea, just in case you’re considering giving it a try.”

Despite the fact that escape should have been my top and only priority, my gaze was drawn to Drake without permission. His face was square, strong, and perfectly symmetrical except for a single dimple on his left cheek that wasn’t mirrored on his right. Somehow, that one small indentation managed to counteract the whole alpha-werewolf scariness factor, turning him irresistible instead of terrifying.

Warm squiggliness rebounded inside my belly and I finally realized what it equated to. Attraction. What a strange thing to succumb to at a time like this.

I frowned, trying to understand how I’d missed that dimple while throwing roadblock after roadblock between Drake and his mate a month ago. How had it failed to rope me in then the way it was doing now?

Because even though Drake’s words were clearly a ploy to keep me talking instead of fleeing, I was the one who kept the conversation going. “How long did you last?”

His gaze grew even warmer. The dimple deepened. “Believe me, I can last a good long while.” Then his smile softened. “Let me guess. I’m the only one with my mind in the gutter and you just want to hear about the water buffalo? I’ll tell you this much—I definitely didn’t win that bet.”

While barely scraping by in human skin this past month, I’d found it impossible to turn on the charm that had won me so many free passes as a disembodied kami. But now I could feel my own dimples—two of them, perfectly symmetrical—emerging despite cold, hunger, and the blood oozing from scraped skin on my knees. “So what you’re saying is, you’re no good at being on top?”

“Top, bottom, if you like it, I like it.” His shrug brought my attention to broad shoulders, made me imagine how good it might feel to press myself up against his solidity. To have him kiss away the pain in my knees and elbows. To pull me in close and…

Movement caught my attention behind Drake’s left shoulder. Tru was emerging on a rooftop several buildings down just like I’d expected she would. Back when I was thinking rationally, before flirting turned my head.

Adrenaline flooded me. Drake had made me forget he wasn’t my sole pursuer, or maybe my human body had done most of the work for him. Whatever the reason for my lapse, sharp reality now whipped away every ounce of pleasure. Slowly, hoping the motion wouldn’t be noticed, I began sidling along the edge of the building, no destination in mind other than away.

“Don’t.” Tru’s mate took a step in the same direction I was traveling and that clinched it. He’d been toying with me just like I used to toy with humans. Trying to distract me while he came up with a plan that would end with me in handcuffs.

Or worse.

So I let myself consider the other way off the building. The way I’d tried so hard to avoid even thinking about.

I was nearly at the edge overlooking the main street now. The edge that would at least add drama to upcoming sacrifice.

“Stop!” Drake’s eyes were no longer warm. Instead, they were ice, demanding obedience.

I didn’t. I stepped over the edge, falling backward and staring up into that handsome werewolf’s face as I plummeted.

Humanity shed off me like a snake’s skin. And in reaction, Drake’s face contorted in a way that somehow managed to look like fear for me rather than fury at me. His arms reached out even though he was nowhere near me, his long fingers clutched at thin air.

The same thin air I was disintegrating into. I didn’t strike the ground so much as disembody inches from it. My last glimpse of Drake faded into the gray emptiness of the spirit realm.

Which meant I’d have to steal memories to regain flesh and solidity. The worst part? Pure kami again, I didn’t really care.

 

​Chapter 2

Around me, the spirit realm stretched out as a still, featureless landscape. Faintly glowing wisps of fog drifted through an otherwise empty plane, each one a material manifestation of unclaimed energy. Long ago, when I was a starving kami with no sword to ground me, I’d followed wisps like these for hours before giving up on catching what could provide sustenance but wasn’t worth the chase.

Now, hunger was the least of my worries. Because travel here wasn’t bogged down by the laws of physics—well it was for me, but not for others. Spirits could materialize right beside me while my only escape was a slow, human plod.

The audible pop of someone arriving sent me skittering sideways. Human instinct prompted me to fling my arms up in front of my face even though that wouldn’t shield me from being maliciously punctured.

Punctured and turned into wisps like the ones I’d formerly hunted. If the rents were few and shallow, a spirit might simply lose some of her energy to such an attack. But those who lost too much too quickly disappeared into the void.

That danger didn’t appear to be facing me today, however. “You’re lucky,” the newcomer observed, poking at me with words instead of claws.

“Not right now, Tall Nose,” I answered, dropping my arms to my sides and starting back toward where I’d left my shopping cart. Because Tall Nose wasn’t precisely a friend but he wasn’t an enemy either. Instead, he was what I would have been if I’d made a different choice years ago.

As we traveled side by side, the repercussions of that choice were striking. I appeared entirely human all the way down to my plodding footsteps. Tall Nose, in contrast, floated along beside me with gentle flaps of his wings, featherless arms crossed while his beak turned up in disgust.

He’d pulled ahead while I was assessing our differences, and now he adjusted his pace to match mine even as he mocked me with a yawn followed by pointed words. “You don’t think you’re lucky? How many of us can cross to the human realm so easily?”

I might have been able to cross to the human realm, but I couldn’t zip toward my sword and get there before the garbage man sent my possessions through a trash compactor. Fear about that possibility made me engage with Tall Nose when I probably shouldn’t have. “Being human isn’t all shits and giggles,” I told him. “There are repercussions. I have to steal to solidify my body on the other side.”

Tall Nose didn’t need to breathe in the spirit realm any more than I did, but he still managed a snort that erupted loud as a bullhorn. Flinching, I spun in a complete circle to see if any other spirits had been attracted by the sound. In particular, there was a hag I’d been dodging for months now, one who wasn’t entirely pleased to have Japanese spirits on her turf.

Luckily, the foggy landscape around us was just as empty as it had been a moment earlier. And now Tall Nose found his words again. “Repercussions for humans maybe. None for you when you cross over, or for me if you take me with you.” He batted his eyelashes, a gesture that looked nowhere near as appealing as he thought since long hairs brushed his shiny upper mandible like spider legs dancing. “But you’re stressed about your sword. I can see that. How about I travel ahead and check on it for you? No charge.”

There was always a charge with a tengu like Tall Nose, so I gritted my teeth, shook my head, and kept wafting my immaterial feet no faster than a human could have jogged. It was maddening to be slowed down in kami form. Maddening enough to make me consider what Tall Nose had suggested.

Could I give him a solid body in the human realm the next time I transitioned? I’d have to steal more memories to make it possible, likely stronger memories that would impact the donor more badly. But Tall Nose would owe me if I gave him a leg up. An ally could mean a lot.

Right now, though, I had a more pressing issue to deal with. Because I rounded the corner, took a quick step sideways into the human realm, and found my shopping cart untouched. Tru and Drake were absent. A major relief.

Unfortunately, both cart and sword were bound to remain untouched until I found another memory to seize hold of and turned myself tangible again. In my current kami form, I could feign a physical appearance in the human realm, something even Tall Nose could manage on occasion. But I couldn’t lift the sword and take it with me. Nor could I push the shopping cart into an out-of-the-way corner to protect it from those with more physical abilities than I currently possessed.

Which meant anyone could come along and grab my sword. Being separated from the blade wasn’t a problem, but if it was damaged? I wasn’t precisely sure what would happen. Best guess—the result would be akin to being punctured and forced to watch all my energy seep out.

“If you’d given me a body,” Tall Nose observed, popping into the human realm beside me, “I could be moving that for you right now.”

His form was hazier than mine while benefiting from wings that let him rise up so high a mortal’s neck would have had to strain to look at him. Mine didn’t protest as I peered directly up above my head. “See anybody?”

“Nope.”

Neither did I, no one on foot at least. Cars continued to rush past as day descended into twilight, but I didn’t trust Tall Nose enough to leave him guarding my sword while I leapt into a speeding vehicle and stole a memory. Not when I might wreck the car while re-embodying, that murder dogging my nightmares along with the others when I ended up back in flesh.

Luckily, time wasn’t so imperative in kami form. Cold and hunger didn’t touch me either. And now that I was physically beside my sword, I could likely talk my way out of danger if anyone tried to mess with the weapon.

Which gave me leeway to come up with a solid plan. “I’ll do things differently tonight,” I mused, speaking more to myself than to Tall Nose, who was starting to fade back into the spirit realm. “I’ll stash my sword somewhere safe—no, I don’t intend to let you watch and find out where. Then I’ll go back to full-on kami. See if stealing memories will give me other powers beyond humanity. Are you shivering?”

“You didn’t feel the chill before we crossed over?”

Sometimes I thought Tall Nose was more drama than he was worth. It was true that the moon was just past new, the time when spirits had the least power. Still—“You do realize there’s no temperature in the spirit realm?”

“Not for you maybe.” He was perching on the back of the shopping cart now, legs dangling like those of a grotesque and over-sized human child. His voice was anything but childlike though as he warned. “There’s a new darkness in the air too.”

“Yeah, night will do that.”

Tall Nose spoke over me, ignoring my attempt at levity. “It’s hungry, seeking. You haven’t felt it?”

I shook my ahead, although perhaps I had noticed a very subtle something while rushing back to my shopping cart through the spirit realm. A drag at my feet that slowed me even more than I’d expected. A weight on my shoulders pressing me down almost like gravity.

Then I forgot about vague maybe-dangers as a teenaged boy rounded the corner on the other side of the street. His clothes were high quality, his coat more than sufficient to ward off chilly weather. But his shoulders were hunched, his gaze glued to the pavement.

“Don’t distract me,” I told Tall Nose. “Looks like we’ve landed an easy mark.”

 

​Chapter 3

Feigning humanity wasn’t the same as inhabiting a tangible body. There were fewer rewards in my current state but also fewer limitations, at least for me. So while the teenager’s attention was still on the ground, I manipulated the illusionary form I’d wrapped around myself, clothing my not-quite-skin in a classy yet threadbare outfit.

People who wore expensive clothes, I’d noticed, were prone to judge others by their apparel. I wanted the young man to trust me and pity me as well.

“Excuse me!” I called, voice wavering just a little. That was the key to drawing him in. That, plus the way I angled my body to outline perfectly perky breasts.

“Nice move.” Tall Nose’s flute-like voice whispered into my ear even though I couldn’t see him any longer. He was almost entirely back in the spirit realm and I swatted at the air where his words had come from, hoping he’d take the hint and retreat the rest of the way. Meanwhile, I donned my most charming smile.

But Tall Nose must have knocked me off my game because the teenager seemed ready to run in the opposite direction. Rather than coming closer, he just peered across the partially illuminated street at me. “Hello?”

In response, I turned up the sugar quotient. “Is there any way you could do me a teeny, tiny favor?” Men, I’d found, responded well to a little-girl voice emerging from a grown woman’s body. Perhaps it made them think I’d be the one who was easily manipulated.

Didn’t work on this teenager, unfortunately. Maybe he was too young or too innocent. Whatever the reason, he didn’t shoot my curves the extended second glance they usually attracted. Didn’t smirk that tiniest bit as if he knew something I didn’t.

Still, he crossed the street. Ambled up with hands in his pockets. “Can I help you?”

I wafted my body two small steps away from the shopping cart while inviting him to take my place. “The wheel’s stuck. Could you possibly push it just a little…?”

I let my voice trail off, and that seemed more effective than outright provocativeness had been. Because the teenager nodded once as if accepting a challenge. Then he stepped up to the cart and gave it a heave.

The cart didn’t actually have wheel issues. No wonder his hard push made it jet forward so fast it nearly yanked him off his feet. His attempts to regain his balance and control the cart distracted him enough so he didn’t notice when I reached out to touch the bare skin of his wrist.

Memories flooded me like a shot of pure oxygen. For one split second, all I could focus on was the blood beginning to pump through my veins. The breath starting to heave my lungs in and out again. The solidity of a human body just barely beginning to reform around my kami interior.

Then I focused on the memory I was sucking out of the teenager and discovered why my little-girl voice hadn’t been as effective as I’d expected.

Shouting. Crying. A father tossing around slurs he never should have used on anyone, let alone on a son.

The mother, placating but also implacable. “Honey, you know we still love you. Hate the sin, love the sinner. There are camps that will help you overcome this phase you’re going through. We’ll call the pastor in the morning. All you have to do is promise…”

“Not to be who I am?”

“Not in my house.” This was the father, hand raised as if he thought he could beat the gay out of someone he’d taken fishing and taught to ride a bike and given his own name to.

“Then I’ll leave.”

The son’s hand shook as he grabbed his coat. He feigned anger as he slammed the door behind him, but inside something was breaking as he walked blindly into the night with no destination in mind.

The teenager’s pain was so profound I could feel it, even as almost-pure kami. It clenched what little bit of throat had begun solidifying out of the ether. It twisted my gut even more than lack of food had done.

If I took this memory, I could re-materialize a solid body. The teenager’s recollection was powerful. It would likely keep me strong for days even if I didn’t find traditional sources of sustenance to fill my belly.

But over the last month, I’d laid down personal rules for memory theft. Rules that never made sense when I was fully disembodied but, in this betwixt and between state, seemed almost important enough to pay attention to.

Rule number one was: Don’t take anything too recent or too formative, which doubly applied to this teenager’s awful showdown with his parents. I’d learned that lesson the hard way, watching a successful lawyer disintegrate over the course of one long week after I stole the memory of his child’s first breath. The rumpled and confused man who’d ended up living on the street not far from me had eventually been ushered into a car by two family members, their soft words suggesting he’d be taken care of. But I never saw him walk up the steps of the courthouse again with his briefcase in hand.

Regret tried to gnaw at me. But regret required a body and I didn’t have one at the present moment. Instead, I repeated the litany of memories that were missable, memories I’d told myself were kosher to take.

Long boring days of repetition. A painful yet long-ago event in a string of similar indignities, the specifics better off forgotten. Or, if I had to, I was allowed to seize something very small yet sweet.

My hand was still on the teenager’s wrist, only a millisecond having passed while he tried to control the shopping cart and I searched for something that might fit the bill better. There were many sweetnesses in his past. I could almost taste them, could feel how they’d fuel a human body through cold, hungry nights if I decided to stay in human form after stashing my sword somewhere secure.

But the teenager would need those memories more than I would. He’d need them if he wanted to survive young adulthood without letting bitterness twist his character. He’d need them to grow into the man he seemed poised to become, the man who’d cross the street to help a distressed stranger.

“You have needs too,” Tall Nose breathed into my ear. He was invisible beside me, but I could hear him as he whispered seduction. “We both have needs. Imagine how loyal I’d be if you gave me part of that tasty memory.”

The tiny hints of sensation that had entered my body while I surfed the teenager’s showdown with his parents were already fading. And with the loss of sensation came a loss of moral compass.

It would be so easy to take from this teenager. Perhaps Tall Nose was right…

I whipped my hand away before I could finish that thought. I couldn’t trust myself not to steal something large, something important. So I’d take nothing. Not from this innocent who was facing the first major trauma of his formerly sheltered life.

Instead, I’d help him. Because, while scanning his memories, I’d noted one adult in his life who seemed like a safe harbor, an adult I now lied to remind him of. “I think I’ve met you before. Isn’t Mrs. Sellings your theater teacher?”

The teenager’s brow furrowed as he struggled to figure out how I could have known that. I stayed silent, waiting for him to fill in the blanks. “Were you at the play she took us to last month?” he ventured finally.

Smiles were so easy in full-on kami form. So were lies. “I was. But, hey, I won’t keep you. I know you need to get going. Thanks for the help.”

He nodded, already pulling out his phone as he strode purposefully away from me. He’d likely remembered the same scene I’d snooped on—Mrs. Sellings drawing aside a student as everyone else filed out of her classroom. The teen I’d almost stolen from tonight had been the last one out so he’d overheard a fragment of a conversation meant to be private.

“Are you safe at home?” A head shake. The teacher’s hand settled on the other student’s shoulder. “Then we’ll figure something out.”

Mrs. Sellings’ phone number had been on her syllabus. She was young, earnest. “Text me if you have any questions,” she’d told everyone on their first day of class.

In another week, this teenager would be so beaten down by life that he wouldn’t even consider texting, let alone breaking the unspoken social rule of calling a teacher in the middle of the night. But, right now, he still had those warm memories suggesting his safety was worth a little rule-breaking.

“Mrs. Sellings?” he said into his phone just before he disappeared out of sight around the corner.

I didn’t remember until the sidewalk was once again empty that my sword was still sitting at the bottom of the shopping cart, right out in the open. I continued to lack a human form or any other way of moving my weapon under cover.

Even Tall Nose had disappeared, disgusted by my un-kami-like behavior. The hungry darkness was now all I noticed as I waited alone for the end of the night.

 

​Chapter 4

Tru’s mate showed up before the trash trucks started running. It was hours after the teenager left, hours since the last person had passed down the opposite sidewalk resolutely ignoring my attempts to hail her.

Running low on energy had prompted me to lose visibility in the human realm, coming as close as a kami ever gets to sleeping. Which explains how a werewolf so large he was impossible to miss managed to swipe my sword out of the shopping cart before I even realized he was present.

I felt the firmness of his grip as soon as he touched the hilt however. Felt the absence of those strong fingers as he stuffed the sword and its umbrella sheathe inside a cardboard poster tube then used a plastic cap to seal the odd choice of container up.

“I know you’re there,” Drake observed, poking one-fingered at what would have been my nose level had I been in my most recent human body. “Boink,” he added, his dimple indenting in a way that almost made my recent dilly-dallying up on the rooftop understandable.

Almost, but not quite. Yes, this shifter turned physical attractiveness into an art form. But I certainly wasn’t going to fall for the same trick now that I was disembodied and lacked human arousal hormones. So instead of materializing and responding verbally, I fought back in a more efficient way.

Because he’d taken my sword. He’d stuffed it inside a tube that I suspected was meant to keep me from accessing it. Even though he was wrong about my abilities on that count, he was now in possession of an object very important to me. I had every right to seize one of his memories in a counterattack.

I touched his neck with fingers he couldn’t see then rifled through his brain like it was one of those old-fashioned card catalogs. And what I found there surprised me so much I left the memory behind, released my hold, and used up energy so I could converse.

Visible and audible now, I observed. “You’re not Tru’s mate.”

Rather than leaping away from my sudden appearance, he pretended to sweep a hat off his head by way of greeting. “Nope. Jack De Luca at your service.”

“Drake’s twin?”

“The more handsome twin, of course.”

Despite his words, there was no rivalry evident within his memories. Instead, I noted a deep loyalty to his brother. That plus some distressing news.

Turned out Jack, his brother, and Tru had decided I was the culprit in a recent murder. Which meant they’d been chasing me yesterday for a reason other than my actions a month ago. And Jack wasn’t here now for conversation either. He’d come to stop further depredations in a kind, gentle manner that was based on yet another very misplaced impression.

I winged my eyebrows upward. “You think I’m your mate.”

“I was hoping to save that bombshell for our third date. But, sure, poke around in my brain. Ruin all my surprises.”

Keep reading in Wolf’s Choice!

 

Wolf’s Curse sneak peek

If you haven’t read Wolf Trap yet, this post contains spoilers!! Please stop reading now and grab your copy of book one while it’s marked down to 99 cents.

Ready to continue Tru’s adventure? Read on…

***

Chapter 1

Wolf's CurseThere’s nothing quite like grave robbing to ruin a first date. Not that Drake and I were on a formal date. And not that I intended to dig around in my husband’s grave when we set off up the hill.

The landscape, however, was ominous from the start. Above us, the branches of winter-bare trees curled like a giant’s fingers. And our choice not to bring flashlights was cast into doubt by the new moon’s complete absence, not even a sliver brightening the sky.

No wonder my foot caught on a root. But before I could do more than tilt off balance, Drake’s hand caught my elbow, stabilizing me while provoking a different sort of upheaval beneath my skin.

“You’re cold,” he rasped, misreading the cause of my shivers.

I shook my head then layered words atop the gesture since it was too dark for even shifter eyes to read body language. “No. Just concerned about Lynette.”

And that was true, if not the entire truth. Despite being the one who had browbeat me into setting up this outing, our sixteen-year-old ward had decided it would take way too much effort to climb up to the graveyard where Ambrose had been buried. Instead, she’d invited herself into a game of tag being played by four young werewolves down where we’d parked our cars.

Which, in a way, was good. Lynette needed friends. She deserved a normal childhood to counteract the magical hands that tended to scorch those she touched if she wasn’t careful.

Still, I couldn’t help voicing my worries now. “She wasn’t wearing gloves and it looked like she was going to win. If she burns somebody, they’ll bite back.”

Drake’s growl promised immediate, bloody retribution. “They wouldn’t dare. Plus,” he continued, his rasp warming, “Lynette’s control is improving. You’re a good influence.”

The final words, aimed in my direction, felt like a caress. Despite his job, despite his voice, Drake was a protector of those he cared about. Lynette, the Strays…

…Me.

The question was, could I allow myself to be included in that list when my previous leap into a romantic relationship had proven so disastrous? When I now had a teenager depending on me to protect and guide her out of an equally traumatic past?

I shivered for a reason other than Drake’s delicious proximity, then I returned to the conversational point before my companion could remark upon my bodily reaction. “The influence between me and Lynette flows primarily in the other direction. Did she tell you we went clothes shopping last week while you were in Montana?”

Despite my best intentions, I found myself picking at the sliver of bared skin where my sweater V’ed down in a very unladylike manner. The choice of wardrobe had been Lynette’s, and I’d accepted her fashion advice because doing so made her smile. Plus, as I’d reminded myself half a dozen times since then, what would have been a societal faux pas in the time I hailed from was now considered not risqué in the least.

Still, I found myself hoisting the neck of the sweater upward, which had the unfortunate side effect of producing a cold breeze down my back. And this time, Drake didn’t even bother asking if I was cold. Wool swirled around my shoulders, bringing with it his signature lemon-meringue-pie aroma plus a hug-like warmth. Clever fingers buttoned the pea coat beneath my chin to hold it in place, cloak-like. He didn’t fumble once despite the pitch black.

“I’ll speak to Lynette about being pushy,” he murmured into my ear, and I shivered even though I was now toasty warm inside his overcoat.

With an effort, I leaned my body in the direction it didn’t want to lean—away from the tantalizing werewolf. Drake had left the relationship ball in my court and I wasn’t quite ready to pick it up again.

So I stuck to words rather than embracing the physical attraction spinning between us. “You don’t like the clothes?”

“Your clothes are your business. Not hers. Not mine.” A pause, then a purr replaced Drake’s usual rasp. “But, yes, I like what you’re wearing very much. My coat. What’s under my coat.”

I could almost taste the words he hadn’t added. What’s under the sweater and skirt beneath my coat…

Now it wasn’t just the extra garment raising my core temperature and I could no longer talk myself into holding the relationship line I’d drawn in the sand. Yes, for Lynette’s sake we needed to make sure the volcano I could feel building between us didn’t erupt in ways that would fling burning relationship lava onto our ward. Yes, it would be so easy to lose myself in the eruption before I’d really found myself.

Still, despite the darkness, my right hand had no problem finding his left hand. Skin grazed skin then I let my fingers slide between his fingers as if they were coming home to rest.

Perhaps I was ready to bounce that relationship ball just a little bit off the ground after all.

“Okay?” Drake asked, even though I was the one who’d reached out and touched him. Even though the intimacy level of our contact was moderate enough that grade schoolers wouldn’t have blushed.

“I want this,” I admitted, resisting the impulse to do more than interweave our fingers, “but I still wake up in cold sweats, afraid I’ll bind myself to an alpha werewolf and harm not only myself but also Lynette and Neko.”

Neko was the kitten Drake and I also shared unofficial custody of, the uninspired name (cat in Japanese) making me feel grounded to my forgotten past every time I spoke it. The cat in question was currently napping in the pocket of the coat Drake had lent me, and I let my unoccupied hand slide between layers of fabric to cup his furry warmth. In response, Neko stretched a silky back against my palm, the contact soothing away some but not all of the tremors memories aroused inside me.

Drake was the one who soothed away the others as he had before and likely would again. “I don’t want anything you aren’t ready for.”

“You’re content with this?” I raised up our hands, palms pressed close together.

“More than content,” he rasped. “Thank you for inviting me along tonight.”

The truth was, Lynette had stolen my phone and hit the send button before I could talk myself into deleting the message requesting Drake join us here. The laughter Lynette and I had shared as I threatened to ground her for life colored my subsequent words now. “Very romantic, taking you to visit my husband’s grave.”

“First.”

“First?”

“First husband.”

First husband and first alpha werewolf who’d expressed a romantic interest in me. Ambrose Reed had lured me halfway around the world as a picture bride, had intended to kill me, and had instead stuck me in suspended animation for over a century.

That suspended animation—helped along by the spirit of my sword parasol—had wiped out most of my memory. So I didn’t actually know many of the facts involved in Ambrose’s awfulness. Couldn’t dig up any recollection of how Drake and I had met, although he’d filled in those blanks verbally. Didn’t know my real name or much of my past.

Which was part of why I was here. I hoped visiting Ambrose’s grave might revive some sliver of knowledge about my history. Well, I’d come for that, plus the childish intention of stomping on the earth Ambrose had been planted beneath while celebrating his belated demise.

To that end, my footsteps quickened as we stepped out of the trees and into a clearing on the hilltop. Out from under the bare-branched canopy, I could see just a little better, enough to make out headstones dotting grass that someone likely hiked up to mow once or twice a season. In the near darkness, it was hard to tell where the newest grave might lie.

“This way.” Drake, as usual, was prepared. He turned us south, his hand guiding me as if my arm was a boat’s rudder. The gesture should have been awkward but it wasn’t. Instead, I imagined we were dancing. An old-style gavotte perhaps, the sort that ended with a kiss.

My cheeks burned by the time Drake’s free arm lashed out in front of me. Fox reflexes kept me from losing my balance and fox-assisted eyes let me see, one moment later, what my escort was reacting to.

The ground in front of us wasn’t grassy lawn like what covered up other grave sites. Instead, a hole deep enough so I couldn’t make out the bottom and long enough to lie down in yawned before us.

Someone had dug up my husband’s grave.

 

***

​Chapter 2

For one split second, fear gripped me like a cold hand around my throat. Memories flirted with my consciousness, memories of Ambrose using my marriage vow to turn me into a willing participant in the draining of every drop of blood out of my body.

Then I swallowed past fear. Whatever had happened to his grave, Ambrose was dead. This was a puzzle to be deciphered, nothing else.

To that end, I focused on mundanities. “Do you mind if I destroy your night vision?”

Rather than answering aloud, Drake’s phone flared into flashlight mode, illuminating the pit and the mound of earth on the far side while making the dark forest around us impenetrable. The benefit we’d gained by walking up here in the dark was lost.

Which was fine. We’d gotten permission to spend time in this territory. Still, danger itched at the back of my neck as I peered down into a hole as deep as I was tall. At the bottom, the lid of a plain wooden coffin lay askew, the slant just sufficient to prove grave robbing had been the cause of the digging while not allowing us to see inside.

“This isn’t fresh,” Drake rasped, kneeling down to crumble dirt between his fingers. “It’s been rained on but it’s not wet.”

Which meant whoever had dug this hole likely wasn’t waiting in the darkness to pounce on us. Still…

The fear that had flitted through me a moment earlier solidified into a solid thrum of urgency. Our ward was running around in the darkness down where we’d parked our vehicles. The parents of the shifters she played with were inside nearby buildings, but a lot could happen before a teenager would think to call for help…

I yanked out my phone and punched the number beside Lynette’s face. It rang and rang and rang, long enough for my rushing thoughts to coalesce into images that would provide fodder for new nightmares.

Whoever had dug up Ambrose’s grave could capture Lynette. Cage her the way she’d already been caged for over a year, picking partially healed scabs off the wounds of her earlier emotional abrasions. Her hands could be turned into weapons. Her…

“What’s up?” Our ward was out of breath when she finally answered, but I could hear the smile in her voice. She was fine and I didn’t want to scare her. Still, my words came out terse.

“I want you to get into one of our cars and lock the doors.” Because, yes, there were adult shifters in houses nearby…but who could say whether one of them might be responsible for the grave robbing?

Immediately, the joy in Lynette’s voice disappeared. We were back in neighboring cells, preparing for unknown danger. “I’m not leaving the kids behind,” she bit out before calling in her playmates.

And even though I wanted Lynette to be able to act like a child, her presence of mind still made me proud. “Good work,” I told her, talking fast and low before the young shifters got close enough to hear me. “Turn it into a new game. Clown car. See how many of you can cram inside and…”

My mind went blank. How exactly was it fun for tweens and teens to sit cooped up in a too-small vehicle while waiting for us to return and rescue them?

Drake’s fingers curled around my fingers, tapping out a question. Could he add his two cents’ worth? I nodded and he raised my phone up to his lips.

“My spare key is in a magnetic case beneath the passenger-side rear wheel well,” he rasped. “Take them on a joy ride.”

I had to stand on tiptoe and lean into Drake’s warm bulk to get close enough for the mic to pick me up now. The tremor that ran through me as a result made my voice breathy when I told Lynette, “Just a sec.”

I managed to firm up my tone by the time I addressed Drake. “Lynette already has a key to my car and it’s already scratched up from that mailbox I didn’t quite clear last month. She barely has her license and your car is…”

Drake’s car was new and shiny and part of the image he projected for his job. Executioner—an alpha whose entire role was to be so imposing that even pack leaders toed the line of good behavior rather than risking his wrath.

But Drake seemed to understand a different point than the one I was making. “My car is armored,” he rasped as if we were in complete agreement. Then, into the phone. “Go now. Stay on the line until the car is moving. Don’t stop driving until I call you back.”

***

With the kids taken care of, I couldn’t put off the secrets of my husband’s grave any longer. But here too, Drake had other ideas.

“I’ll check it out,” he offered as I eyed the bottom of the hole with the same sort of enthusiasm I’d applied to Lynette’s shopping-trip suggestion that I don head-to-toe spandex. The earthen walls weren’t sheer, so it wasn’t as if I risked getting stuck down there. I just wasn’t quite ready to see whatever was underneath that askew lid.

Still, I shook my head. “No. I need to do this.”

Drake growled very low but he didn’t stop me. Just turned my phone into flashlight mode and handed it back so he could use his for its primary purpose—communication.

Over the month we’d spent as part-time housemates and full-time co-guardians, I’d come to learn that Drake preferred texting everyone other than me and Lynette. But he must have sensed my need for his piercing eyes to stay trained on me now because he dialed up his apprentice the same way I’d contacted our ward.

“Drake,” Kira answered, voice redolent with amusement I could almost smell as I picked my way down the sloping incline. I was glad of shifter hearing because interest in the conversation above me kept me from obsessing over the coffin lid I was aiming for, a plain surface made of what appeared to be un-sanded lumber roughly screwed together. The gap between lid and coffin was too narrow to peer through, but I wouldn’t have to wrest the entire lid up to see what was going on inside. Because it appeared as if someone had already hacked one board free from the others, making it easy to access the end of the coffin closest to my feet.

“Let me guess,” Kira continued, her perky voice a stark contrast to what I imagined lay beneath that loose board I should have moved out of the way already. “You’re going to pull me away from date night to go strike fear into the hearts of scary werewolves with my wit and beauty.”

“Close,” Drake rasped. “I need you to meet up with a car full of kids and bring them to the Reed cemetery immediately.”

“Well, that’s nearby at least,” Kira answered. “Think I can make it back in time for the second movie? It’s a double-header tonight at the drive-in. You should come sometime. Bring your mate.”

I’d already grabbed onto the loose board, which wasn’t quite as loose as I’d thought it would be. But my hand stilled, waiting for Drake’s reply. Because Kira had misspoken. We weren’t mates.

I had only a single memory of a kiss between the two of us and that recollection was fuzzy around the edges, laid down before I started retaining my memory at the break of each dawn. Soon thereafter, I’d made it clear that I wasn’t ready for a romantic relationship and Drake hadn’t pushed the issue.

Still, even when he was out of town rather than just down the hall at Rosa’s house, we’d talked on the phone every night, ostensibly for Lynette’s sake but often about topics that had nothing to do with our ward. Drake had dropped everything to meet me here even though he was in the middle of a job currently, and he’d made no complaint when the hem of his expensive coat dragged in the dirt while protecting my back.

So I didn’t wiggle the board to free it from the earth that had slumped on top of it. Just crouched there inside my husband’s grave and peered up at the alpha werewolf whose gaze, even from this distance, warmed me. His eyebrows shot up as if he was asking a question.

I wasn’t quite sure what I was agreeing to—a simple double date or mating this man who enticed me so thoroughly I often forgot my reasons for not succumbing to his overtures. Either way, I nodded. And the scent of lemon-meringue pie abruptly overwhelmed the must of dirt and decay.

“We’d like that,” Drake answered. “Later. Right now, there are five scared kids in a car who require an armed escort.”

After that, he hung up and dialed Lynette again, giving her instructions on where to meet Kira while passing along the latter’s number. And even though I longed to bask in the near contact of eyes focusing unwaveringly on me, I forced myself to focus on something very different.

Now wasn’t the time for basking. If I wanted to see what kind of future Drake and I might create together, I first needed to deal with the most unpleasant part of my past.

To that end, I jerked the loose board a little harder. This time, it came free, allowing a cascade of dirt to spill down into the homemade coffin.

I expected to find my dead husband’s face there, or perhaps his skull. Rates of human decomposition weren’t something I was intimately familiar with.

What I found was worse. No face. No skull. No evidence at all that my murderous husband was dead.

***

​Chapter 3

It wasn’t the most rational reaction, but I abruptly needed to know if this rough wooden box was a mere decoy. So I fell down onto my belly and thrust my arm through the opening where the board had been, straining into the darkness.

Nothing. Nothing. Then my fingers hit something hard and Ambrose’s booming laugh carried previously forgotten memory back into full focus.

“Your blood is delicious.” He’d stood over me, one of the hundreds of glass vials he’d carefully filled with a mixture of my blood plus a clear preservative pinched between thumb and forefinger. His lips were bloody from the taste he’d already enjoyed and he didn’t bother wiping away the red splattering his lips.

“Why?” I choked on the word, barely able to talk. I was so lightheaded. If I hadn’t been lying down already, I would have fallen.

“Look.” He spread his arms wide and I blinked, trying to focus. My husband’s face seemed to shimmer slightly as if he was shifting to lupine form even though his shape remained resolutely human.

Then I understood what was happening. The small wrinkles around his eyes were smoothing. The few streaks of white in his hair had returned to glossy brown.

Ambrose was stealing my life to extend his own. And, given my marriage vow, there was nothing I could do about it.

He laughed again, the sound deeper, more resonant. A hand landed on my shoulder…

Not in memory, in life. Ambrose was here. He wanted to drain me dry again and…

Luckily, I wasn’t the innocent I’d been last time. “My oath died with you!” I gritted out.

I didn’t know if that was true but I wasn’t waiting around to find out. I fumbled for the slit in my skirt, the one Lynette had come upon me sewing into place and proclaimed “sexy” until she understood its purpose. The Velcro I’d used to close the long gash ripped beneath my fingers. The knife I’d strapped to my thigh was in my hands even as I spun to fight the man who’d killed me once already.

Grabbing the knife, however, had required dropping my phone. Face down on the earth, its glow provided only a tiny rim of light between the two of us. So all I could see was my enemy’s massive size as he bent over me. All I could smell was the fur waiting beneath his skin.

His huge hands were raised to the sky though. No wonder when my knife was at his throat. I’d won this round.

“I shouldn’t have touched you.”

The familiar rasp curled around me and I sucked in a gulp of air more frigid than it had been a moment earlier, not realizing until I did so that I’d been holding my breath. “Drake?”

The bulky shadow nodded, the motion working against my knife and cutting into his skin. I could smell his blood, just as salty as the liquid that had lined my husband’s lips. My fingers trembled. My weapon tumbled down to join my cell phone.

“Ambrose Reed is dead,” Drake continued as if he’d read my mind. “I saw him die and I’ll prove he’s gone.”

Over the next hour, Drake did exactly that.

***

He began by ripping the first two boards loose with his bare hands, revealing the shoulders of a desiccated, headless skeleton. And when I still couldn’t seem to stop shivering, he pulled out a multi-tool and worked every screw loose along the top of the coffin, revealing the rest of my husband’s remains.

Rotting clothes sagged over bones and connective tissue, dirt that had cascaded inside weighing down portions without obscuring the whole. Unless someone else had been put in this grave, I was indeed a widow.

And Drake swore he’d been personally responsible for transporting Ambrose’s body across the country to return it to the Reed pack this past spring. “Palms required greasing,” he rasped. “We don’t embalm our bodies and human laws can be difficult when crossing state lines.”

“If you say he’s dead, he’s dead.” Then I frowned, paying attention to the man in front of me at long last. “I cut you.”

And, okay, so maybe I just wanted an excuse to touch someone alive and lemon-scented. After all, the thin line of red from my knife was already coagulating and clearly didn’t require treatment. Still, I reached into the kitten-containing pocket and drew out the cloth handkerchief Drake always kept there, using it to dab at the wound I’d created while lost in memory and fear.

“Not the first time.” Drake’s rasp vibrated through the cloth and into my fingers, completely eradicating fear of the past while warming the air around us. Perhaps it hadn’t turned so unseasonably cold as suddenly as I’d imagined. Perhaps I’d just lingered too far from Drake’s tantalizing heat.

Which is how Lynette found us, arriving along with four young wolves and the apprentice Drake had called to collect them. The latter shone a huge flashlight beam down on us while the largest wolf swiveled around to guard against anything coming up behind us out of the forest. And Lynette hopped down into a hole that abruptly felt overcrowded. Only quick reflexes managed to save Drake from a bloody nose as our ward saluted.

“Reporting for duty. Which piece did the bas…” She coughed and seemed to change her mind about wording, cheeks pinking in a way that reminded me of myself in a modern fitting room. “Which piece did the grave robber touch?”

The stumble over words made Lynette seem younger than she actually was, and I opened my mouth to tell her she didn’t need to do this. I hadn’t thought through how having a teenager analyze an open grave might layer new traumatic memories atop old ones.

Sword kamiPlus, it wasn’t as if the current mystery was pressing enough to require interrupting Lynette’s newfound childhood. My husband was dead. Whatever had happened to his grave wasn’t important enough to mess with the normal life I was trying to create for our ward.

But Drake, who never naysaid me, shook his head very slightly before wordlessly pointing Lynette’s attention toward the single board that had been askew from the beginning. She reached out to touch it, taking advantage of scorchy fingers that also let her see fragments of the past when in contact with inanimate objects.

Her eyes closed and her cheeks seemed to sink under the stark lighting from Kira’s flashlight. Now Lynette looked nothing like the kid we’d left playing tag with young shifters. Instead, she was once again a young woman doing whatever she had to in order to survive.

Involving her in this mess had been a terrible idea.

Then Lynette’s eyelashes twitched. And when she opened her eyes, it was me she spoke to. “You’re not gonna like this.”

I already didn’t like this. “Tell me.”

“It was Kami.” Lynette rocked back on her heels, putting as much distance as she could between herself and the piece of wood she’d been touching. “She dug up the grave and took dead dude’s head.”

Keep reading in Wolf’s Curse!

Wolf Trap sneak preview

Wolf TrapWolf Trap is now live! Here are the first few chapters so you can see if Tru’s adventure floats your boat…

***

​Chapter 1

Flee! Scary Guy!! demanded the scrawl of black ink up the inside of my left arm, the words at just the right level so my opening eyes couldn’t help but fixate on the written advice. Blearily, I noted that my sleeve had been pushed up to reveal even more tiny letters decipherable only because they matched my own handwriting: Light sleeper!!! Get out now!!!!

I blinked away grit and tilted my head to consider the situation. Scary Guy didn’t look particularly scary. His head rested on the neighboring pillow, my breath just barely fluttering his long, ebony lashes. Equally dark hair atop his head was mussed as if he’d tossed and turned in the night, and no wonder since his broad, fully dressed body indented the covers rather than resting beneath them. Still, he’d managed to curl protectively around me while never quite touching the lump I made beneath the luxurious duvet, all while wearing a formal lounge suit that had not been made for sleep.

In other words, nothing appeared to have happened here last night. Nothing that would risk my standing in society…other than our completely inappropriate proximity without benefit of a chaperone, of course.

Still, if I couldn’t trust my own words, what could I trust? The marked-upon arm was stretched up under my head and sound asleep, but I eased it down in preparation for a sneaky exit.

Or, rather, I tried to.

Something soft yet unyielding held the arm in question exactly where it had been when I awakened. Something that made no sense, then suddenly did as my understanding of the world twisted on its axis, unlocking knowledge that felt at the same time old and brand new.

The item restraining my motion was a sex toy, the mere phrase making me blush. Absurdly fluffy pink handcuffs wrapped first around my wrist then around the bed frame. I’d been locked very gently yet very firmly in place.

The puzzle of last night—why was I here? Who was Scary Guy?—tickled my mind like a sword umbrella found in a thrift shop with a price tag far less than a collector would have paid for it. But my racing pulse demanded flight rather than puzzle-piecing, so I focused instead on potential tools within easy reach.

Lamp on a bedside table. Alarm clock with huge glowing digits that tried to consume my attention with its marvelousness but which I ignored as unhelpful. Drawer that I guessed from the hotel-like atmosphere might hold branded stationery and pen.

No flexible wire was in evidence, and I couldn’t quite recall what I intended to do with the item if I found it. But I trusted the shred of memory promising a solution, so I kept searching. Perhaps if I was very lucky the hotel would have splurged on one of those newfangled retractable pens…

After one quick glance to ensure Scary Guy was still sleeping, I bent my body slowly, slowly, away from him then eased the drawer open to reveal exactly what I’d expected. Bingo. Not only information about my location—“Lexington, Kentucky” was helpfully typed beneath the hotel name on the expected stationary—but also the exact item I needed to free myself. Tucking the ballpoint beneath my chin, I let muscle memory guide me as I unscrewed the top from the bottom and tapped out the metal spring.

Straightening even a small part of the curved wire was a bear with Scary Guy asleep on the bed beside me. Each time I moved, his breathing hitched and I froze. But eventually I held a length of semi-straight metal pinched between thumb and forefinger. Eventually, I was ready to work myself loose.

Hairs prickled on the back of my neck as I turned my back on Scary Guy completely this time. The posture was necessary to reach the handcuff, but a niggling memory promised that long eyelashes were false advertising. The man sleeping on the bed beside me was a predator and if I woke him…

Quieting my breathing with an effort, I inserted the wire into the hole then bent it into a V shape. Out it came then in at a different angle. Twist. Click. Success.

I grinned then froze as Scary Guy moved on the bed behind me. I couldn’t tell whether his eyes had opened. Could only feel the possessive weight as a huge hand slung itself across my shoulder and neck.

The touch should have been distasteful or worrisome, but his skin smelled like lemon-meringue pie. Sweet and tart with furry undertones.

Werewolf, my foggy memory suggested. Alpha. Danger!

I scraped the lining of my brain in search of further information but found nothing I could put words to. Just oddly mixed emotions and a complete absence of tangible puzzle pieces.

Meanwhile, behind me, Scary Guy’s breath had eased back into the regular susurration of slumber. He was unaware of my imminent escape…for the moment at least.

Enough puzzling, I warned myself. On task, please.

With the full use of all my fingers, it was simple to unlock the other handcuff from around the bed frame, even though I had to be fastidiously slow now that Scary Guy’s heat pushed into my skin through layers of fabric. The hotel had very helpfully chosen a bed with a slatted headboard, which meant I could move the handcuffs down the line, reattach them, then.…

The pink fur was so soft that Scary Guy didn’t wake when I slid his wrist into the unlocked side of the restraining device. He didn’t wake when the latch clicked shut. That success made me cockier than I should have been.

Easing a pillow into the space beneath his arm where I’d reclined one moment earlier, I crept out of bed and came erect on high-laced boots. No wonder my toes had complained so adamantly. It would have been entirely inappropriate to undress last night, but surely I could have at least slid off my footwear?

I paused to consider…and a huge hand lashed out to clamp shut around my billowing skirt fabric. “Wait,” Scary Guy rasped, the single word as harsh as sandpaper against my skin.

I was caught. Then I wasn’t.

Lunging sideways, I used the release of spring-like tension in one leg to rip myself free of my captor’s grip. “I’d rather not,” I rebutted, dancing out of reach then continuing toward the window that offered escape into night just on the cusp of dawn.

The crash behind me could have been the headboard being ripped apart or just a display of temper. I didn’t dare slow to check. Only once I’d pushed the window open and slammed my shoulder through the screen—such a shame to ruin astonishingly fine craftsmanship—did I dare turn back to assess the situation I was leaving behind.

DrakeFlat gray eyes bored into mine and now I understood the nickname I’d scrawled up the inside of my arm. This man was scary. Not because of his size and his muscles but because of the emotionlessness behind those pupils as he patiently wriggled the headboard slat back and forth and back and forth again. Brute force hadn’t broken the wood but it wouldn’t be long before patience won him free.

Still, I found myself succumbing to the temptation of the puzzle rather than fleeing. “Who are you?” I demanded.

The tiniest crinkle of humor formed on either side of his otherwise emotionless eyes. “Tell me your name and I’ll tell you mine.”

That seemed like a fair trade so I opened my mouth to oblige him…and found nothing where my identity should have been. No given name, no family name, no knowledge of who I was and why I was here in this hotel room.

A lightning bolt of terror spun through me. Then, on its heels, something I could cling to. A female voice slicing through the fog of memorylessness like a remnant of previously uttered breath.

“You are strong. You can do this.”

The sounds didn’t quite match the words, but I understood them anyway. And even though I still didn’t know who I was, the remembered voice of my mother was immediately recognizable. I knew on an instinctive level that her belief in my abilities had buoyed me up in the past. If I so chose, I could let that maternal trust buoy me up now.

The first ray of early morning sun struck my back like the warmth of maternal kudos. A sharp whistle from the street almost jogged more reminders loose inside my head.

Almost, but not quite.

“No idea, huh?” Scary Guy’s rasp was louder than it had been a moment earlier. And while he hadn’t shared his name, I somehow knew this man wouldn’t raise his voice without good reason.

He was covering something up. The sound of slowly splintering wood maybe?

I didn’t wait to find out. I jumped through the window—first floor, thankfully—and obeyed my own instructions. Feet against pavement, I fled.

Chapter 2

I was running flat out when someone pounded up beside me. Not Scary Guy but a woman. Ignorable, I decided, then found myself veering toward her instead of away as something huge and rumbling sped by so close on my other side that the breeze of its passing whipped hair into my face.

That thing was tremendous. Loud. Dangerous.

I shook my head as I realized I was mistaken. That thing hadn’t been a monster. It was just a very fast motor wagon. Or rather…

“Car,” the woman said, nudging my shoulder in what seemed like a companionable manner, all without breaking stride. “Have you forgotten them today? Bad morning, I see, but I’ve gotcha.”

By this point we’d reached a corner and she turned right, the opposite direction from the one in which I’d intended to travel. After all, the area straight ahead seemed busier and more likely to hide me from my pursuer.

But curiosity instead sent me following the stranger. “How did you know I’d forgotten?” I demanded.

“Because you forget every day at dawn.” She pointed where the sun would have been if a four-story building hadn’t blocked our view of the horizon. “Sometimes you forget more, sometimes less. Major buzz kill, but whatcha gonna do?”

Despite the language that only barely made sense, her assertion seemed reasonable. Still, I wasn’t quite willing to accept daily memory loss on a stranger’s say-so. “And you know this because…”

The woman stopped dead, turning to point into a darkened shop window. “Look.”

I didn’t have time for extended chitchat. Scary Guy would be loose by now and instinct told me he could follow my scent trail around a corner as easily as if I’d been strolling along an empty beach with absolutely nothing to hide behind. Still, good manners dictated that I at least glance in the indicated direction. And what I saw froze me in my tracks.

Two young women were reflected by the glass-turned-mirror, two young women clad just as differently as I’d guessed at first glance. I wore a dress that covered my arms, neck, and ankles, precisely as societal mores dictated. She wore tight trousers—leggings, my erratic memory offered—and a bodice that revealed more than it concealed—tank top suggested another brief memory burst.

But it wasn’t the clothes that had startled me into stillness. Instead, I fixated on the eerie similarities between our two faces.

Straight dark hair on both of us framed features that were common in my homeland but not here in the States. Because those words from my mother hadn’t been English, had they? They’d been Japanese, just like me and this woman by my side.

Our similarities weren’t confined to a shared nationality either. No, we both boasted cheekbones a trifle sharper than was truly attractive, just like Okaasan’s. And we both sported that strange streak of white hair at our left temple, a streak that made us look older than the mid twenties I’d otherwise guess us to be.

“We’re twins,” I breathed.

“Not quite. You’re Tru. I’m Kami. Here, this should cheer you up.”

I hadn’t even realized the other woman was carrying something until she thrust it into my hands. But the object was mine, I knew, as soon as I touched the polished wooden handle. Because while it appeared to be an ordinary umbrella…

I snicked the latch and a sword slid free. The same sword that had sprung into my mind while I assessed the hotel-bed situation.

“Thank you,” I breathed, deciding then and there that I could trust Kami. After all, she’d brought me a sword that felt like safety, a solid link to a murkily obscured past. Plus, how could I not trust a woman who shared my own face? “Your kindness is noted and will be reciprocated.”

Kami snorted as if my wording amused her. But she had just enough time to say “If that’s a thank you, then you’re welcome” before a dull thud caught both of our attention.

The sound was so quiet it might have originated in my imagination. It hadn’t, though. Not when the scent wafting toward us was unmistakable.

Lemon-meringue pie and fur. Scary Guy.

I spun to find his dark shape rounding the corner and stalking wolf-like toward us. He wasn’t running, but he wasn’t stopping either. And Kami was biting her lip now, proof that the incoming danger wasn’t all in my head.

Save ourselves with sword or feet? Scary Guy’s emotionless eyes made the decision for me.

Slamming my blade back into its umbrella hiding place, I addressed Kami. “It’s been a pleasure making your acquaintance. Now run!”

***

Kami knew the city in a way I didn’t. Or, perhaps, in a way I once had but had since forgotten. We shimmied under a chain-link fence using a gap so small it had clearly been created by dogs or children. Our bodies barely fit, so we knew Scary Guy’s shoulders would be a no-go.

Rather than trying, he launched himself up the side of the fence itself, something I caught out of the corner of one eye in all its tendon-bulging glory. Despite myself, I slowed to watch the spectacle, only to be chided by a memory of my mother’s words.

“Dumplings above flowers.” When had Okaasan reminded me that substance trumps beauty? I itched to tug on this thin thread of memory, the only one that seemed willing to rise through the fog that shrouded the rest of my past. Now, though, seemed like the time to stick to the present and take the remembered recommendation at face value.

Because, yes, Scary Guy was unbelievably agile. He moved with skill few humans managed, all smoothness and lithe grace. But he was also running after us with the single-minded intensity of a predator. I didn’t intend to become his prey.

So I followed Kami across a combined playground and ball field as fast as I was able. Even in morning dimness, there was nowhere to hide if you weren’t a small child content to giggle in shadow. A gate at the opposite end swung wide, however, and who knew what lay beyond that.

Our time to find out, however, was rapidly wearing thin. We’d made it only two-thirds of the way to the gate when the faintest thud of bare feet on grass promised Scary Guy had completed his descent.

“We have to stand and fight,” I gasped.

Kami was equally breathless when she answered. “Not quite. Trust me.”

Then we were at the gate and through it. The street we’d ended up on rose slightly to a set of railroad tracks where warning bars were even now lowering to block access.

To block vehicle access, maybe, but not foot access. The train was in sight, barreling toward us, but I’d gauged Kami’s and my running speed by this point. We could make it. Barely.

We ducked under the warning bars and shot across the tracks so close to the train its lights blinded us and its horn blared warning. Then we rested with hands on our knees, catching our breath while large bare feet appeared and reappeared in gaps between huge metal wheels.

Chapter 3

The train offered a longer delay than the fence had, but I knew my scent trail would continue to attract Scary Guy’s attention. So I was surprised when Kami slipped into a darkened alcove in a long stone wall three blocks later. The indentation had once been a doorway, I guessed, but now the erstwhile entrance was bricked off while broken bottles on the ground suggested others had used this spot to gain a degree of seclusion. We wouldn’t be immediately visible to passersby, but I had no doubt Scary Guy would smell us the moment he stepped onto the block.

“Strip,” Kami demanded while I was still working through why we’d paused.

“Excuse me?”

“You’ll be late for work if you don’t head to the mall now. I’ll draw the Executioner away, but I need to look and smell like you to make that happen.”

“The Executioner?” I asked, shivering even though I hadn’t started unfastening the long row of buttons down the front of my dress. “That doesn’t sound promising. Are you sure you’ll be safe on your own?”

When Kami snapped her fingers instead of answering, I leaned my sword umbrella up against the wall and obeyed her orders. After all, she seemed to know much more about the mess I’d woken up in than I did.

She might’ve known more, but her motives came into question rather abruptly. I looked up from the dress I was trying to step out of without dragging it through the dirt to find her snatching my umbrella, winding a mass of dark fabric around its handle, then tossing the combination up over the wall behind us. The entire grab-twist-throw happened so quickly, I only had time for a single word. “Hey!”

“You’re going after it.”

I was? Certainly not directly after it since the wall was well built and offered few obvious footholds. But, yes, Kami was right—I was definitely going to find a way to the other side to regain my most prized possession, all while rethinking the trust I’d so blithely granted to the woman by my side.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Kami chided, cocking her head as if she could hear the train even though we’d come too far for the sound to carry. “Ditch the dorky shapewear and shift.”

“I don’t have the foggiest idea…” I started. But my skin was tingling, my body twisting.

Abruptly, my eyes were far closer to the pavement than they had been a moment earlier. The puddled dress beside me was no longer rose but pale yellow. And scents that had whispered secrets when we arrived now yelled overwhelming knowledge of everyone who had passed this point for several hours prior.

I was a fox. Of course I was a fox; how could I have forgotten? The hard stays of my corset prodded my fur as I wriggled free of the tunnel cautious humanity dictated.

I appeared to owe Kami an apology, not that I could offer one now that I’d ditched human vocal cords. I whined instead and she seemed to get the gist.

“No worries. I get it. It’s weird not remembering.” Then, before I could try to broach any other topics, she returned to my previous question. “And yes, I’ll be fine. The Executioner will lose my trail in no time then I can spend the day busking.

“Here’s what you need to know,” she continued while shedding her own clothes without a single glance at the empty street. “I wrapped your uniform around the umbrella. Rosa is your friend and co-worker. She’ll fill the gaps in your memory and I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift.”

I was listening, but I was also paying attention to the twitch of my whiskers that told me the Executioner was approaching. The train had passed and even though I couldn’t smell or hear our pursuer, I somehow knew our time was running out.

The sooner I left, the sooner Kami could take herself to safety. Fox feet found the wall’s ornamental bulges as easy to traverse as a wide staircase. I was up and over before she stopped grousing at the buttons of my dress.

***

Bright lights in the mall’s parking lot made up for the fact that only a handful of cars graced the pavement at such an early hour. Which was handy since I had no idea what the woman I was meeting looked like.

For my own part, I was newly two-legged, dressed this time in the strange one-piece suit Kami had provided for me. Thus covered, I ignored the twinge of impropriety at my lack of a skirt and headed toward the only current sign of life. A minivan had pulled up around back as I approached, its taillights facing me. And for one split second, the woman emerging from the driver’s side door matched the only person my memory held dear enough to name.

“Okaasan,” I murmured, hurrying forward to join her. I knew before she took a step that my mother would move carefully due to age biting into her bones. Knew, even from this distance, that her hair would smell like cloves and cinnamon. Her arms around me would be as warm as sunbeams and…

I was almost close enough to suck up that beloved scent when the woman turned with just as much care as I expected and shattered the heartening illusion.

Yes, this woman was my mother’s age—sixtyish—and her dark eyes twinkled like Okaasan’s, making her appear much younger. But her facial features were clearly Latina, not Japanese. Unless I’d not only lost memories but chopped others up into confetti, this wasn’t my mother after all.

“Rosa?” I guessed, ignoring the sinking sensation in my stomach as I reached out to take the heavy tote of cleaning supplies out of her hand. After all, even if this wasn’t Okaasan, she was old enough to demand assistance and respect.

Welcome imbued every feature of her face as she nodded. “None other.”

Tru fighting a werewolfShe might have intended to say more, but just then the back door of the minivan slid open. And muscle memory whipped my sword out of its umbrella sheath in response to the overwhelming aroma of fur.

Male. Young. Fit. That was all I saw before the human-form werewolf flung himself at me with a one-word growl. “Fox.”

“Wolf,” I rebutted, slicing at the air in front of his nose.

Then Rosa was pushing her way between us so abruptly I had to turn my blade sideways to prevent it from cutting into innocent flesh. “Benito! Tru! Stop it!”

“Tía, you don’t understand.” Despite the aggressive scent flowing off him, the young man’s voice was low and restrained. “This woman isn’t who you think she is.”

“I could have said the exact same thing about you,” I rebutted. As I spoke, I angled my body to place it between him and Rosa, well aware that the older woman was only human and no match for an angry werewolf. The tricky part was deciding when the erratically moving Benito might spring in her direction…

Before I’d won more than a few inches of progress, however, Rosa slammed one palm into my shoulder and one into Benito’s chest then straightened her arms in unison. “Enough. I mean it. Both of you, calm down.”

Her strength was no match for ours, but any resistance on our part might result in her injury. So I let myself be shoved, and my estimation of Benito went up when he retreated as well.

And now that we finally had some very real physical distance between us, I was able to notice what I hadn’t earlier. The boy was years shy of his full growth, perhaps only a tall fourteen and skinny in the way of teenagers who’ve gained height so quickly they haven’t managed to match it with muscle.

He was also clinging to humanity with clear effort while menacing no one directly. Instead, he appeared to be angling to protect the older woman the same way I was.

Which meant—“I overreacted,” I admitted, sheathing my sword. “I apologize.”

The young man vibrated for one long moment, then he jerked his chin down in a nod that appeared almost painful. He didn’t meet my eyes, however, and his response was aimed at his relative. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Walk it off then,” Rosa agreed. “Come in when you’re ready.” Then, dismissing Benito and heading toward a smaller, less flashy door than the one I’d passed while rounding the building, she tossed over her shoulder, “Fox, huh? I didn’t see that coming. Didn’t realize introducing you to Benito would provoke such fireworks either.”

Looked like Rosa wasn’t going to fill all of my memory gaps after all.

Chapter 4

Rosa might not have been privy to my complete history, but she did know how to smooth my way through a job that my muscles found familiar but my conscious mind struggled with. From the locker where she stashed her purse and I reluctantly parted with my umbrella to the best way to clean without bothering the few early morning business owners, Rosa led me through a work day that should have felt familiar but definitely did not.

At first, I stared at the huge television screen in the mezzanine every time I passed near it and blushed at the skimpiness of my coveralls. But modernity faded from amazing to run-of-the-mill within a few hours. Soon, I was more interested in guessing why my vocabulary sometimes made Rosa chuckle then point out that plimsoll was deeply archaic.

“The word you’re looking for,” my mentor said gently, “is sneakers. Here, you’ll enjoy this.”

And I did. The vacuuming robot entranced me so thoroughly that I had to force myself to actually do my job rather than stare at it awestruck. Following the machine across the floor like a cat stalking a mouse, I almost failed to notice the security guard cornering Rosa when she returned from refilling the cleaning fluids in her tote.

“I’ll need to see some ID.” He swaggered closer, boxing her into a bend in the hallway with body language that proclaimed he was a lion slapping his paw down over a cockroach. In contrast, thick glasses and a potbelly made him an unlikely predator.

Rosa’s attention, however, fixated on his right hand and I strained to see what had her curling in on herself. The same woman who’d stood between my sword and an angry werewolf was doing her best to look innocuous as she murmured apologies. Why…?

Gun, my slippery memory informed me after a moment of intense concentration. Far more dangerous than a sword.

Rosa might not be my mother, but there was no way I was letting this man threaten her. I started toward the pair, but Rosa met my gaze and gave the tiniest head shake. Meanwhile, she obeyed the security guard as easy as if he wasn’t bullying his way into her personal space.

“You’re new,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a rectangular card. Her voice was firmer now than it had been before she noticed me watching. “But I’m not. I can assure you, everything is very much in order.”

Rather than answering, Mr. Potbelly snatched the card and turned it over in his hands, considering it far more intently than the small surface seemed to merit. As he did so, Rosa took advantage of his lack of attention to widen her eyes at me. “Take a break,” she mouthed, jerking her chin toward the exit door, outside which we’d shared beef jerky with Benito not so long ago. He’d been four-legged at the time, keeping his distance from me but accepting the snack from Rosa’s fingers as gently as if she was made of glass.

And that was only relevant because it meant now was very much not the time for another rest period. On the other hand, it was true that my pockets didn’t contain any rectangular cards. If asked for ID, I’d have nothing to share with this armed bully.

I didn’t obey immediately however. “Will you be safe without me?” I mouthed back.

Rosa nodded once, rolling her eyes in a way that made it clear she’d moved on from fear to disgruntlement. Just about then, the security guard gave up on trying to turn the card into something it wasn’t. He handed it back, then frowned and swiveled to find out what Rosa was looking at…

…But I was already gone. Speedwalking past barred shop entrances and sliding into the break room Rosa had led me in through. I snagged my umbrella from the locker then vacillated in front of the back door.

Yes, Rosa had seemed in control of the situation when I left, but how much of that was a facade donned for my benefit? Was I really going to leave Rosa alone with a man who threatened unknown trouble? A man using a dangerous weapon to bolster his weakness?

The gunshot that made up my mind came from in front of me, not from behind me. From outside where we’d left Benito pacing fifteen minutes earlier.

Time slowed as I shoved my way through the doorway. But I was too late. By the time I reached his furry body, Rosa’s nephew was dead.

***

He was dead and a vehicle was speeding off around the corner. I got the impression of something dark and blocky, then the shooter was gone far faster than feet could follow.

Still, I took off after the vehicle anyway, or tried to. Three steps in, a different car screeched to a halt directly in front of me, disgorging the same man I’d woken up handcuffed beside.

“What’s wrong?” the Executioner demanded, the saw rasp of his voice sharper than the part in his hair. This morning, long lashes had hinted at innocence, but that illusion fragmented as his gray eyes bored into mine in daylight. A stark memory of a losing battle with a dogpile of snarling werewolves drifted through my mind like smoke before a fire. Alpha. Danger. Every instinct demanded I run far and I run fast.

Still, I wasn’t about to abandon evidence of Benito’s killing. Not when Rosa would need answers to fill the hole her nephew left behind him. Not when Rosa might be in just as much danger from the Executioner as I was.

Instead, I spat questions back in his direction. “Why are you following me? How did you find me?”

The third potential query—was it coincidence that he’d shown up so soon after a deadly shooting?—wasn’t asked in words. Instead, I swallowed my fear and closed the space between us, hairs standing up along the back of my neck as I approached the werewolf that rubbed shrouded fear raw.

To my surprise, he didn’t move as I grabbed his wrists and yanked his hands up toward my nose. It was hard to force myself to breathe, not just through fear of his proximity but because of the way those gray eyes considered me in silence for an endless moment before he rasped out an answer to questions both asked and unasked. “I followed you because I didn’t want you running scared all day. I found you by driving a grid between the points where I lost your trail over the last three days. Now it’s your turn. What’s wrong?”

I only half listened, paying more attention to my nose than to his explanation. This man stank of the mouth-puckering astringency of alpha, yet lemon-meringue pie overwhelmed that more generic aroma. Sweet-tart deliciousness enfolded me in its embrace like the warmth of the hotel bed I’d woken in not many hours earlier. Despite myself, I found my urge to flee receding along with the half-memory from my past…

A bonus Moon Marked story, from Gunner’s point of view

I have a special treat coming your way this fall — Outfoxed. This bonus short story from Gunner’s point of view is set five years after Fox Blood ends, and I’ve included the beginning of the story at the bottom of this post. However, even reading this tidbit is a major SPOILER for the rest of the series. So I’ll fill some space by sharing the special way this short story will wind up in your hands.

Moon Marked hardbacks

Outfoxed will be one of the reward tiers in my upcoming Kickstarter, running from October 18 to November 3. Other fun inclusions include special edition hardbacks with bonus art available nowhere else, signed bookplates, and pretty bookmarks. You’ll definitely want to follow the campaign so you get a notification at launch since early-bird tiers will be available only for the first 48 hours. One of those early bird tiers involves snagging Outfoxed in ebook form for a buck.

Moon Marked art

And now, if you’ve already enjoyed the series and are ready for MAJOR SPOILERS…read on for the first scene of Gunner’s adventure…


When a werewolf invites two fox shifters into the heart of his pack, he learns to think sideways. To read between the lines and assess the subtleties of any given situation.

Although sometimes even foxes aren’t particularly subtle.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit!”

On the other side of the closed bathroom door, my mate’s curses were muffled yet explosive. Like nuclear detonations shielded by steel to prevent the outside world from hearing a disaster unfold.

My hearing was better than most.

Tapping the barrier between us, I observed, “Whatever’s broken, it can’t be terrible. Your sister is away at college after all.”

I’d hoped to lighten the mood, but Mai’s retort felt like it had the full weight of her sword arm behind it. “My sister is living so far from our pack that a lone wolf could snatch her up at any moment. Don’t you even miss her?”

Was that the problem? Kira, eighteen and spreading her wings as a first semester college student…with a werewolf bodyguard assigned to be her roommate and constant companion. “Your sister is pack,” I answered carefully. “Of course she’s missed.”

The door opened so abruptly the knob would have slammed into me if I hadn’t leapt backwards. Mai surged out in fighting stance even though she bore no obvious weapon. She did, however, have one hand tucked behind her back, a hint of danger on which I trained my gaze as she spoke.

“You think one wolf is enough to keep a kitsune safe,” my mate retorted, “but I know better. No kitsune is safe in this world unless she’s deep in hiding.”

I cocked my head. “I thought we’d decided together that it was better to let Kira attend a school within pack territory rather than risk her rebelling. Do you want me to order her home?”

Clipping a young shifter’s wings was never the right choice, but I’d toe the line if Mai insisted. After all, she’d raised Kira alone after their parents died and was as much a mother as she was a sister. When it came to matters of Kira, Mai had the final say.

Mai’s hidden hand stayed hidden, but the other hand swiped at her face in what looked more like a claw scratch than a wiping away of tears. Nonetheless, moisture sparkled on her fingertips as she flung more words at me. “I told you, this has nothing to do with Kira.”

Mai had never actually said that, but her hidden hand was sliding out from behind her back now. One slow inch. Another.

Meanwhile, the scent rolling off my mate, I now realized, wasn’t aggression. It was fear.

I gentled my voice. “Show me,” I suggested.

And Mai did. She showed me a small rectangle of plastic with a plus sign materializing in the center. A plus sign denoting the event we’d both agreed we craved, me as soon as possible, Mai after she was certain a fox-shifter daughter would be safe within the heart of our clan.

My stomach flew up into my throat and dropped to my toes at the exact same moment. I was thrilled but Mai wasn’t. Apparently, she wasn’t as confident as she appeared about being part of a wolf pack.

“I’m pregnant,” Mai managed after a long pause, voice choked. “If she’s a girl, she’ll be a kitsune. She’ll spend her entire life fleeing danger. She’ll….”

Words failed her but not me. “Untrue,” I answered, pulling Mai into an embrace and squashing my own trembling. Despite the gut punch of realizing my mate didn’t consider our pack the same bulwark I did, only one of us could afford to fall apart at any given moment. This was Mai’s time.

“Son or daughter,” I continued, keeping my voice steady with an effort, “our child will live happily and healthily. I will protect them until my dying breath.”

Follow my Kickstarter campaign to ensure you’re notified at launch!

Moon Duel first chapters

Moon DuelAre you ready for the grand finale of Kira’s series? If so, keep reading for a sneak peak. If you need to catch up first, Full Moon Saloon is free on all retailers for a limited time.

***

​Chapter 1

It all started with fox pee in Italian leather shoes. Fox pee and a very pleasant kiss…

Thom’s broad hand cupped my cheek, fingertips stroking circles of pleasure beneath my hairline. I was half turned away because noses. Every bodily protrusion risked crossing the boundary between Gate City territory and the land belonging to the endlessly unpleasant Chief Reed, the land Thom couldn’t enter but that I had to stay on as Reed heir.

“Neck,” Thom growled and I arched the requested body part out to meet him. Heat, lips, the scrape of teeth against sensitive skin. I hummed my pleasure, reciprocating with fingers sliding down the hard line of side toward his hip…

And my cell phone erupted into jangly music.

Reluctantly, I pried my eyes open, blinking against the brightness of late April sun filtering through tiny, unfolding leaves in the canopy above us. My phone lay at my feet because Thom and I had both run here in fur form, which meant no pockets.

It also meant nothing to cover the magnificence of Thom’s lean, muscular body. Lifting one foot, I daintily tapped the end-call button with my big toe. Then I smiled at my mate. “Face me,” I demanded.

We both knew this stance had major technical difficulties. Still, wordlessly, he obeyed.

Full frontal, one part of Thom jutted out further than all others. Which meant I couldn’t touch skin without crossing that dratted dividing line between two pack territories. Well, I couldn’t touch skin save one square inch of rounded, luscious tip.

I touched. And the phone blared a second time. “Answer it,” Thom suggested, his voice slightly choked, “or he’ll dream up another sadistic punishment.”

“I don’t care.”

“Well, I do.”

So I accepted the call with the same toe I’d used previously. Headed off Chief Reed’s complaint with the honest truth. “We did not cross the line.”

I knew this because I’d learned the hard way over the last few months that putting so much as a fraction of a toenail over the boundary line caused a jolting shock to my system. Thom wasn’t oath-bound the way I was, so he could cross without physical pain. But Chief Reed was glad to use any intrusion as an excuse for inter-pack aggressions. It was a good thing my mate had an instinct for the boundary coordinates the same way he did for the locations of members of his pack.

Unfortunately, the other pack leader in my life, the one who I was oath-bound to obey but whose rules I wiggled out from under on a regular basis, didn’t bother responding to my parry. Instead, his voice went just as deep and growly as Thom’s had been but for a very different reason. “You peed in my Ermenegildo Zegna last night.”

“Your ermine zelda?” I twirled my spare hand around in a demanding circle, halting Thom once I’d gained a few more inches of skin to play with. And while my honorary uncle griped, I played.

“Don’t pretend not to know what I’m talking about,” Chief Reed ended. “The scent is vile.”

“Doesn’t wash out either,” I commiserated. “Such a shame. But that’s what happens when you coop up a fox.”

Rather than arguing the point, Chief Reed’s voice turned darker. “A pack hunt is beginning as we speak.”

“That’s nice.”

“I expect you to join us.” This wasn’t a request. It was a demand from my alpha. Since I wasn’t a werewolf, though, the words didn’t wrap around my gut and yank me into line.

“You know what they say,” I answered, allowing the pleasure I felt at being here with Thom to warm cold words. “Expectations are premeditated resentments.”

Thom FarisThom swayed slightly, and I don’t think it was because of my verbal cleverness. One of his hands reached out in my direction, stuttering to a halt at the boundary line we couldn’t cross without risking repercussions from my pack leader. The other hand clenched itself into a fist.

Over the months, Thom and I had found ways of sating our frustrations. We could separate, lie on either side of the line and watch the other bring him or herself to completion. Gaze never wavering, it was possible for me to imagine the hands roving across my body were my mate’s.

But today we didn’t go there. Because the faintest slurp emerged from the cell-phone speaker. And this time when Chief Reed spoke, his words compelled me as easily as if I was a puppet. “Join the pack hunt. Now.”

I was barely able to delay long enough to strap the cell phone to my suddenly furry back with a tendril of star-ball magic. Then I was four-legged and sprinting toward werewolves I neither liked nor trusted as they hunted prey for status rather than food.

***

Chief Reed had compelled me to join the hunt, but by the time I made it back to the villa I’d lived in for the last four months, the premises were vacant. Lungs billowing and pads throbbing, my body didn’t let me pause long enough to catch my breath or soothe my throat with a sip of water. Instead, I set my nose to the ground and followed the trail of wolf back down a different side of the same mountain I’d just run up.

Only, the pack had doubled back over and over, crossing their own footsteps and setting me a chase as if they were the prey and I was the hunter. At this rate, I’d be trailing behind snickering werewolves all afternoon. But there was no alternative. Not when Chief Reed had frittered away a sip of my freely given blood to force me into an endless hunt.

Frittering was good though. Frittering meant sore paws and a parched throat instead of…

Blood on marble. Pain in my fingers a tactile reminder that I’d recently hacked through the neck of a living being. Vomit lingered on my lips from where I’d tried and failed to repeal the past…

I squeezed shut the faucet gush of memory, my breath now wheezing in and out for a reason other than exertion. Yes, it was a good thing that Chief Reed was using up my blood one sip at a time. Maybe soon he wouldn’t have enough left to make me do something I’d regret for the rest of my life.

Something else I’d regret for the rest of my life.

The sip this time must have been infinitesimal, however. Because, soon thereafter, the blood compulsion lifted sufficiently to let my brain work the problem rather than my feet merely stumbling mindlessly forward. I still had to find the pack, but I didn’t have to follow Chief Reed’s tortuous route back and forth through the same patch of forest to get there. Instead, I tapped into my sole pack bond, the one I’d built between myself and Willow, the mate of the man I’d killed.

Killed without remorse or warning. Killed because he stood in my way, not because he was about to harm another…

I choked down the past, focusing on cutting across country the short way. The sooner I got this over with, the sooner I could return to Thom, who was likely waiting impatiently in the same sunlit patch of forest where we always met.

That was a much more palatable image to focus on. My naked mate, his blue eyes lighting up when he saw me running toward him between broad-trunked tulip-trees. He always hummed when I shifted upward into humanity. Even the memory of his rumbling “Hello” warmed my bones.

I was so intent upon replacing bad memories with good ones that I wasn’t paying attention when I stumbled into real, present-day carnage. Blood, blood, blood… I teetered on the brink of awfulness, about to fall fully into the pit of the past.

Then I swallowed hard and forced myself to see what was actually there rather than what my horrified brain was trying to turn this into. Yes, something had been slaughtered in this wooded hollow, but the deceased hadn’t been human. Instead, deer parts were strewn across the ground, red streaks painting tree trunks with lewd words and imagery. The typical end of a Reed hunt, where the pack played out the sadism inside their alpha’s head.

The culprits were largely absent, however. Only one underling—Willow—lay in wolf form at her fully clothed alpha’s feet.

Like the tree trunks, Chief Reed was painted red from his fingers to his three-piece suit and watch fob. But he must have licked his teeth bare because they glinted white when he greeted me. “You were slow.”

I shifted upward and waited to speak until I was sure my voice wouldn’t quaver. “You don’t appear to have been bored.”

“Never.” My nemesis stalked toward me, Willow trailing behind like a well-trained lap dog. “I called you here to discuss the Moon Trials.”

Not fancy Italian shoes? I cocked my head, unsure what he was referring to.

When I failed to answer, Chief Reed sighed. “You really know very little about our world. Good thing you have me to educate you. The Moon Trials are a long-lived tradition. Once a decade, pack heirs from across the United States converge to fight for status. Admission to the Trials is an honor I have worked hard to achieve for you.”

“Not interested.”

“No?” He lashed out with one bare foot and struck Willow hard in the softness of her belly. Pain ricocheted down our pack bond, but she didn’t cringe away or yelp. Chief Reed, who would have felt the same thing through the bond he also shared with her, smiled then continued. “Maybe if you’re lucky, your Thom will meet you there. Wouldn’t that be nice—a honeymoon bathed in blood?”

The verbal imagery forced me to rise to bait I knew I shouldn’t have. “I doubt our host will allow another pack leader to enter his territory uninvited.”

“It’s true that each heir is allowed only a single plus-one. Willow will be yours. But I hear Thom is quite resourceful.”

Chief Reed waggled his eyebrows but I ignored the subtext this time. Kept my words simple. “Same answer. Should I spell it out for you? N. O.”

Willow and I both tensed, waiting for another physical outpouring of displeasure. Instead, Chief Reed lowered his voice. “I will reward you for your wholehearted participation.”

I wasn’t so sure I wanted any reward Chief Reed was offering, but I didn’t want him to kick Willow again either. So—“I’m listening,” I said.

His scent sweetened. He thought he had me with whatever he was about to offer. And he was almost right.

“Win three battles at the Moon Trials,” Chief Reed murmured, “and you will be granted one day per week to spend with your mate.”

“In Gate City?”

“Wherever you choose.”

I wanted that. I wanted it so badly. Not just to see all of Thom rather than the inches that brushed up against the boundary, but to hang out with friends new and old at the bar my mate managed. The warmth, the life, the camaraderie… Gate City was nothing like the cold, hard marble within which I now lived.

But I could read between the lines. The Moon Trials wouldn’t consist of gentlemanly fencing matches. Heirs would fight tooth and claw, lacking face guards and armor. There would be pain and blood and possibly even death.

It wasn’t my own death I was afraid of. I swallowed down memories before they could latch on with pointy teeth, fighting back the haze of red that threatened to cloud my vision. “Not interested,” I repeated, mentally apologizing to Willow.

But Chief Reed didn’t attack physically this time either. Instead, he offered the stick to go with the carrot. “No? Then you won’t mind slaying this useless wolf at my feet.”

He reached into his vest pocket and removed that awful little bottle, still half full of my freely given blood preserved in alcohol. If he downed the whole thing, he could force me to do anything.

I closed my eyes, opened them again. “I’ll go,” I promised.

Chief Reed smiled so wide I could see blood resting on his tongue. “Of course you will.”

​Chapter 2

One week later, the descending airplane left my stomach behind as it carried me toward violence, mayhem, and hopefully some long-delayed hanky-panky with my mate. Because Thom had promised to be here waiting for me, and I’d chosen to ignore everything else that might possibly go wrong.

Now, I unsnapped my seat belt and surged up onto my knees, craning around the man on my left for a view of our destination. Beneath us, water butted up against city, the crazy-quilt pattern of reds and oranges in the San Francisco Bay salt ponds sunlit except for one tiny shadow that matched the shape of our plane.

That was what I’d be soon—a speck in an overcrowded field. A single not-so-interested Moon Trials participant facing down dozens of cutthroat fighters willing to battle to the death for a decade of bragging rights. Unlike them, I intended to use every asset at my disposal to fly under the radar, win Chief Reed’s mandated three contests, then return to Virginia a much happier fox.

“Looking forward to a second murder?” Willow didn’t even glance up from her in-flight magazine while raising memories like ghosts in a graveyard. Spilled blood, unseeing eyes, a too-wide mouth frozen in a leer of endless surprise…

I shook my head to cast off mental images while Willow flipped to another page and continued taking me to task. “The flight attendant will be here momentarily to remind you, again, to fasten your seatbelt.”

“You don’t sound happy to be along for the ride,” I countered, obediently sinking back down and clipping the restraint around my middle. “I thought you were itching to get out from under Chief Reed’s thumb.”

And, sure, as best I could tell, Willow’s purpose as plus-one was mere window dressing. An alpha is nothing without a pack, so an heir must travel with some sort of entourage. I supposed that was why her lips pursed up even tighter as she offered five clipped words by way of reply.

“I’m not. And I was.”

That was all Willow gave me while our plane dipped lower, the view suggesting we were about to crash into water until the instant our wheels touched down on tarmac. In silence, Willow and I cooled our heels through several interminable deplaning minutes. In silence, we stepped out into an airport that stank of barely repressed fur and claws, catching fleeting glimpses of other Moon Trials contestants as they stalked through crowds of innocent humans while considering each other with murder in their eyes.

Pack of WolvesAnd when Willow finally broke the silence, she didn’t acknowledge the fact that this was a dangerous place for a kitsune and a pack princess to linger. Instead, she addressed the elephant in the room…or, rather, stabbed that elephant with a cattle prod. “Today would have been my mate’s birthday, you know.”

“I didn’t know.” All I knew was the way my stolen sword had sliced through Quentin’s neck four months earlier. The blade hadn’t bit in easily the way swords do in movies. Instead, I’d had to brute force my way through flesh and bone.

But cinematic blood had indeed spurted through the air as the previous Reed heir fell, dead on contact. It didn’t matter to either me or Willow that Chief Reed had forced my hand, drinking blood to make that death happen. I’d become a murderer last winter and now I was protecting my victim’s mate by willingly walking into a situation that might force me to repeat that awfulness. Did that make me a better person than I’d been four months ago or worse?

A sharp pain in my side brought me back to the clatter of the airport. Willow’s hand retreated, the indentations of her fingernails in my skin the only proof that she’d dealt a particularly vicious pinch.

Right. This wasn’t the time to lose myself in memory. The scent of aggressive wolves was stronger here in the baggage claim, as if we’d caught up with more heirs in the moments I’d lost to nightmare. Willow and I needed to collect our luggage, find Thom, and get the heck out of Dodge.

Only, the aggressive alpha scent stuffing up my nostrils didn’t emerge from distant shifters this time. Instead, my path was blocked by a man who I’d hoped never to see again. A man whose name I didn’t even know.

“Executioner,” I greeted him. He seemed to be playing up his title today, dressed in a stark black suit that blended with the ebony of his close-cropped hair and the charcoal of his eyes. The only color on his person was a bright red pocket square. The shade of a freshly picked rose, or of newly spilled blood.

Because, like me, this man was a murderer. In fact, he killed for a living. He wasn’t, as far as I knew, heir to any pack however. What he was doing in San Francisco was beyond me.

As such, the Executioner was irrelevant to this week’s drama. I pushed Willow into the shelter of my body as I started to step around him. “Excuse us,” I murmured.

The low-key evasion didn’t work. The Executioner’s arm flashed out faster than it really should have among people who weren’t privy to the paranormal. Hard fingers closed around my sleeve-covered upper arm.

And while I could have magicked up a sword and fought back, this was neither the time nor the place. So, instead, I summoned up my most contagious smile. “Are you here to kill me or protect me?” I asked, ignoring Willow’s gasp as she tried even harder to sink into the floor.

To both of our surprise, my boldness worked. The Executioner’s eyes twinkled just the tiniest bit as he relinquished his hold on me.

Or maybe I’d only imagined that flash of humor. Maybe the scent of Thom finally wafting toward me out of the crowd just made me see dewdrops and flowers in an arid desert.

Because the Executioner’s answer wasn’t heartening. Or explanatory. In fact, he offered me one word only: “Yes.”

***

“Okay. Whatever.” I turned my back on the hulking shadow of danger. Willow and I couldn’t bull our way past the scary shifter but we could retreat into the crowd of humans, give the Executioner a wide berth, then get back on track on the other side.

Could and planned to, because my mate bond tightened and sang like a plucked guitar string. I knew even before picking Thom out of the crowd that the man I’d been yearning for had finished tugging our luggage off the carousel. His blue eyes were even now lifting to find mine, sending a wave of pure heat through my body. And while other alphas were busy jostling for position, space opened in front of Thom the instant he took a step forward. I aimed for an intersecting trajectory and…

The shriek of a sub-audible dog whistle pierced the room. Humans failed to notice, but every shifter winced, most dropping whatever they were holding so they could press their palms over their ears.

Willow’s lips formed words I’d never imagined she knew the meaning of. Thom’s cheek twitched as he barely managed to cling to our luggage. Meanwhile Rupert—my former co-worker and Thom’s current pack mate, best known for his unerringly grumpy life outlook and surprisingly accurate moral compass—stepped out from behind my mate and proved himself to be the only shifter properly prepared.

“Noise-canceling headphones,” Rupert mouthed smugly while tapping what appeared to be black earmuffs cupping his angular head. “Never leave home without them.”

As if on cue, the whistling ceased. From behind my back, the Executioner’s words descended like an icy chill over every shifter in the crowded baggage area. “You are here on a very limited invitation from the San Francisco alpha,” he began, speaking at a normal volume despite the distance yawning between himself and the furthest werewolf. The humans around us hadn’t stopped talking, but we all caught the gist well enough.

“Fail a fight and your invitation is rescinded, effective immediately,” the Executioner’s saw-rasp voice continued. “Losers and their plus-ones will be ferried back to the airport, at which point their immunity from trespassing becomes null and void.”

I winced, relinquishing any hope that Thom and I would get to spend at least a little time together. I’d have to focus on the bigger picture instead. On Chief Reed’s promise that if I won three matches I could enjoy one day a week in Gate City.

That plus the real reason I was here—the promise that Willow’s death sentence would be lifted upon my third triumph.

Meanwhile, the Executioner was cracking his metaphorical whip. “Moon Trial participants will be on the vans out front in three minutes,” he concluded. “Too slow and you will forfeit your spot.”

​Chapter 3

A stampede of werewolves erupted in the indicated direction even as I tried to turn backwards against the tide. Willow’s fingers on my sleeve halted my backward momentum this time. “Your mate can afford to dally,” she groused, tugging me toward the exit along with everyone else. “We can’t.”

Then we were outside the airport, in a busy loading zone. There, a clipboard-bearing woman considered the two of us for a moment before opting to ignore Willow while demanding of me: “Name?”

“Kira Fairwood.”

“Fairwood?” The other woman’s brows drew together. “I don’t see you here.”

From behind me, the ice of a predator’s presence prickled hairs on the back of my neck. Before I could decide whether it was better to turn and face the danger or maintain the illusion of toughness, the Executioner’s rough voice cut through Clipboard Lady’s confusion. “Reed heir. She’s been vetted.”

“Reed heir,” the woman agreed, checking the surname I hated off her list. “Van four.”

“We’ll be on van four also.” Somehow, Thom had caught up to us, despite pulling far too many suitcases behind him. Somehow, his deep rumble melted away the ice shards that the Executioner’s predatory intensity had sent shivering down my spine.

Some of that heat must have warmed Clipboard Lady also because she dimpled. “Yes, of course. And you are?”

“Thom Faris.”

The woman flipped the page over, frowning. “Are you sure?”

My mate’s cheeks crinkled into a half-smile that drew the woman’s upper body subtly toward him. “Of my name?” he rumbled. “Positive.”

“Ahem.” I’d failed to notice Rupert’s reappearance until his theatrical throat-clearing, but none of us could miss the way he drew himself up to his full height of approximately five feet zero inches while intoning: “I am the participant. Rupert Rumfelt.”

Clipboard Woman appeared even more dubious about Rupert than she’d been about me. “Which pack?”

“Rumfelt, of course.” Before the woman could ask for additional information, Rupert popped open his briefcase—the only item he carried—and drew out what appeared to be a certified deed. “I recently purchased an island.”

“Oh, well, that’s not exactly…”

“Eh, eh, eh.” He held up a finger in the universal demand to wait while flipping through further paperwork. “According to the Treaty of 1914, alphas are considered heirs during the period between claiming their property and the moment they physically set foot on said property.”

“Sir, I’m afraid the Moon Trials are for…”

Unlike Rupert, the Executioner didn’t have to clear his throat to gain everyone’s attention. “Write him in.”

Clipboard Lady’s polite refusal stuttered into silence. She averted her eyes from the Executioner while scribbling something on her paper and grimacing what was likely intended to be a smile in Rupert’s general direction. “My apologies. Van three.”

***

Thom and I rode in separate vehicles to a gymnasium that was nothing special. Just a big echoing arena with paired names sharpied onto posters spaced evenly along its length. The fighters had been set up in alphabetical order, so I zeroed in on the Fs, hunting first Fairwood then Faris before realizing I should have been looking for Reed.

Reed…one down from Rumfelt. Just outside the taped square where he’d be fighting, Rupert dribbled a big red ball that created painful non-harmonics no human would be able to hear. His headphones meant he either didn’t know or didn’t care that everyone around him was wincing and growling each time the ball and floor made contact. Willow muttered a complaint, but all I cared about was Thom.

Because my mate was waiting for me beside Rupert, no boundary separating us. We did have an audience, but I didn’t particularly care about that. I strode forward…

Then—“Rules.” The Executioner’s voice cut across the room, stilling chatter and leaving nothing but the sound of Rupert’s reverberating ball to fill the silence. A single dark eyebrow rose and four shifters dove forward to snatch the offending object before Rupert could slap his hand down yet again.

“You could have said something,” Rupert complained, slipping his headphones down to hang around his neck. “No need to get physical.”

As if the Moon Trials weren’t going to become far more physical than that.

Physical in more ways than one. I’d finally reached Thom’s side and his right arm rose to enfold me. The side-hug was simple, but it was more than we’d been able to do for months now. I half-listened as the Executioner continued speaking but mostly just reveled in contact with my mate.

“Thirty-two contestants,” the Executioner rasped. “Elimination contests.”

Beside us, Rupert pulled a calculator out of baggy cargo-pants pockets, typed in a few digits, then reported: “That would be five matches, assuming each involves exactly two parties. Alternatively, we could make this more efficient by…”

“Winner of the final duel,” the Executioner said, speaking over Rupert, “organizes the next Moon Trials. Loser dies.”

Urban fantasy warrior woman with werewolfAnd Rupert’s chatter faded to silence. Thom’s body tensed against mine as he growled, “You didn’t mention a fight to the death when explaining the setup.”

“I didn’t mention it because it’s irrelevant,” I countered, keeping my voice low. Public displays of affection were one thing, public displays of discontent another thing entirely.

Sure enough, scents of interest sparked to life around us. I could feel hungry eyes on the back of my neck as I murmured further explanation into my mate’s ear. “Chief Reed only requires me to win three battles,” I told him. “If necessary, I’ll purposefully toss the fourth.”

My mate didn’t quite relax in the face of my promise, but his voice did turn less gritty. “I’ll watch your back through four battles then.”

“And Willow’s back. And Rupert’s.” We weren’t just side-hugging any longer. Thom had enfolded me in a full-body embrace that felt like nothing so much as coming home.

“Of course,” he agreed with both words and body.

“Rules for today,” the Executioner continued, his saw-toothed rasp no longer causing goose bumps now that Thom’s arms encircled me. I nestled deeper as the Executioner laid down the law. “To win, you will cause the other party to surrender or to step outside the taped area. At that point, victors and their plus-ones will be transferred to a hotel to prepare for tonight’s entertainment.”

I should have been assessing the competition, plotting out strategy. But all that mattered was Thom’s hot breath on my forehead. All that mattered was…

The absurd shortness of the Executioner’s speech. He ended with a single word.

“Start.”

Keep reading Moon Duel, now available on all retailers!

Kira’s front and center this week!

I’m excited to share a bunch of news with you today! First, Full Moon Saloon is now live on audio at buck-off launch pricing. As usual, the audiobook is available everywhere, so you can request a copy at your local library if you don’t have the cash to pay up front.

Meanwhile, I’ve marked the ebook down to 99 cents for a short time. If you love Kira’s story and have been wanting to share it with a friend, now’s a great time to suggest they grab a low-cost copy and give it a try.

Of course, the biggest news is that book two in the series is now live on all retailers in ebook form. I hope you’ll give Rogue Moon a try then leave a review on the retailer of your choice.

Thanks for reading/listening! You are why I write.

Rogue Moon first chapters

Caution: Spoilers for Full Moon Saloon ahead! If you haven’t already read Kira’s first adventure, check that out then come back here.

Still reading? Okay, here goes….

***

Rogue MoonThe tug of the full moon slapped me in the face with all the finesse of a stinky locker-room towel. Bar-interior dimness brightened as my pupils dilated. Hubbub faded as my attention laser-focused on the man serving pints half a room away.

Not just any man. If Thom ever wanted a break from his current gig as bar owner, he could make a go of it as a pinup model. After all, the muscles of his forearms were dreamily displayed by rolled-up flannel shirt sleeves. The rest of him was equally super-sized, but bulk didn’t equate to slowness. Instead, Thom crossed the room with all the speed and agility of what he also was—an alpha werewolf.

I hummed, fingers settling on the medallion between my breasts as I licked my lips. And—

“Out.” Thom shoved the man on the neighboring bar stool away from me. The guy—a human—uttered only one complaining syllable before he took a look at Thom’s face, changed his mind, and yanked out his wallet with shaking fingers instead.

Smart man. Obey the alpha werewolf. Give him space so he could wrap himself around my skin and.…

I snorted displeasure as an annoyingly familiar human woman joined our threesome. Subsided as she did what her role as pack hanger-on mandated—she moved the non-pack male along.

“On the house. Here, let me get you a doggy bag for the road. Do you like burgers? Fries? How about pie? We have lemon meringue and cherry.”

I didn’t bother watching Thom’s employee soothe the evicted human as she drew him away from us. Because Thom was in my personal space now, finally and fully. He’d settled onto the vacated bar stool, jeans-clad thighs splaying wide as he encompassed me in his alpha musk.

“Kira. Look at me.”

I hummed again. Thom didn’t have to ask for my attention. In fact, I thought it might be time for us to do more than look.

Would his stubbled jaw feel as roughly enticing as it appeared from a distance? If I reached out to test the terrain, would he open his lips and take my finger into his mouth?

My hand didn’t complete its journey, unfortunately. Instead, a hot fist manacled my wrist as Thom barked. “Bertrand. Get over here.”

A suited shadow blocked the light. “I can’t see why you two don’t just seal the deal. You’re into her. She’s into you. I’m sick of playing chaperone.”

“You think this is ordinary behavior?” Thom’s voice was so deep it vibrated his hand and my arm along with it. I leaned in closer, or tried to. His muscles flexed as he fended off my advance.

“I guess not,” the other man said after a moment. He cocked his head, snapping his fingers in front of my face then jerking them away as I clicked my teeth together irritably. “Kira. Focus.”

I hissed. Suit dude wasn’t the man I wanted. If I shifted, my needle-sharp teeth would make him think again about addressing me while I was busy.

I craved the alpha. I needed.…

“Hey, hey, hey, hey. Not here.” The unwanted man had his hands on my shoulders now. And Thom was gone, moving so fast I’d missed his exit. Dimly, in the distance, I heard the deep rumble of his voice:

“Bar’s closing. Family emergency.”

Feet shuffled toward the exit, which was irrelevant. What was relevant was Thom’s distance from my aching center. I could barely smell him. The loss hollowed out my core.

I yanked against my jailer’s grip, but it was as firm as his alpha’s had been. My voice rose into a yodel as I flung myself from side to side.

“She’s going to hurt herself.”

That was the woman. The woman who’d crept closer to Thom than I was. How dared she?

I lashed out, fingernails turning into claws as fur rose on a dwindling body. Soon I was smaller than all of them, approximately the size of a well-fed tomcat.

I wasn’t a tomcat, though. I was a fox. And that grip on my shoulders after one fast wriggle? Gone. Their ability to catch me as I slipped through grasping fingers? A joke.

Now it was my turn to take control. First order of business: the woman was going down.

Except I wasn’t the only four-legger in the bar. I skidded to a halt in front of a wolf who’d planted himself between me and the woman. A tie dangled from his neck and suit pants slid off his rump.

Which should have been humorous, but the wolf’s size wasn’t funny. His raised ruff radiated menace. The shadows beneath his legs were large enough to swallow me up.

Not that I intended to hide myself. Not between his legs. I’d gotten turned away from my target, but now I realigned myself. The alpha. He was still in human form, which was good. Shortly, I’d be human again, and naked. It wouldn’t take much effort to rip his clothes off as well.

Well, the belt might present a challenge since my brain was oddly muzzy. He could take care of that part. I took a step…

…and something soft and warm dropped over my nose and back. Enveloped me just like I wanted Thom’s arms to do.

But this wasn’t arms and it didn’t smell like alpha.

I spat and hissed, but the bindings just pulled tighter. Then the woman—I could smell her—scooped me up. The swaddling fabric that stunk of her man resisted the tearing of my claws.

“Give her to me.”

For a moment, cool air pressed through cloth bindings, then the warmth of body contact rekindled. I was no longer restrained by the woman. Instead, I’d found the arms of the alpha, my goal from the start.

“What’s going on?” This was suit dude, returned from wolf form to question his alpha.

I growled. You didn’t question an alpha. You obeyed him. Lay beneath him. Let him pet you until you shattered from pure pleasure and delight.

Like I wanted to. Hadn’t yet but would soon, unless.…

A distant memory of Thom’s months-old explanation filtered through the moon craze. “The Faris curse,” he’d confided. “Single parents going back at least three generations. I”—he’d cleared his throat—“need a committed relationship before I’m willing to be intimate.”

Now I was the one who shook my head, whipping irrelevant human words away and fragments of the past along with them. I wanted Thom and I’d smelled how much the alpha wanted me. It was time for us both to take.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” Thom answered suit dude, his voice slightly choked. Could he smell my arousal the same way I smelled his presence? If so, he knew I craved his skin slicking my skin. He knew.…

Thom took a step backwards, his voice hardening as he shared our private business with those irrelevant to us. “Two months ago, it started with flirtation. Last full moon, Kira wasn’t herself, but she held it together. Tonight….”

“I thought moon phases didn’t impact werewolves.” This was the woman. Why was she still so close to my alpha?

I struggled and Thom’s hand settled on my nape, caressing me through the fabric. My muscles eased.

Yes, he’d take me to bed shortly. I could wait a moment while he addressed annoying pack members, sent them away and won privacy for our tryst.

“Moon phases are irrelevant to us,” Thom confirmed, his rumble like a rocking boat lulling my senses into somnolence. “Shouldn’t impact kitsunes either. Something’s wrong, and I intend to stop it.”

The other male snorted then muttered, “Good luck with that.”

​Chapter 2

I woke to a pounding head, Pumpkin on my chest, and Charlie’s face inches from my eyeballs. “Rise and shine!”

For several seconds, I blinked confusion. Had the craziness of last night merely been a stress dream? The evidence seemed to suggest as much. Because here I was with my entirely human housemate along with Thom’s cat who slipped in to sleep with me every night before wandering back to the bar to be fed by his real owner. Meanwhile, the light—or lack thereof—pointed to this being just another ordinary January morning.

So why did my fingertips throb as if I’d used them in an attempt to rip away bindings? Why, as I sat up from a couch that released me reluctantly, did a quilt crumple to the floor and cold air slap my naked stomach and thighs?

Because that stress dream had been reality, despite the fact I had no explanation for my out-of-character behavior. It had been reality that faded into darkness after Bertrand and Dixie Lee left me and Thom alone in the Full Moon Saloon.

Well, alone except for my moon-crazed refusal to abide by Thom’s relationship line in the sand. My head fell into my hands. “Oh shit.”

Before I could indulge in full-on hysterics, a fried-egg sandwich nudged its way into my view field. The offering wiggled as Charlie misunderstood the reason for my distress.

“Yes, you overslept, and on the lumpy couch instead of in your bed. We all drink too much sometimes. Or were you feeling foxy? Whatever. Eat and you’ll feel better.”

My lips quirked at Charlie’s mothering, humor cradling me for one split second until my hand rose to the empty spot where Thom’s medallion should have hung at my throat. The jewelry was missing, just like my clothes. Missing…along with the bond it implied?

Eating abruptly felt impossible. I drew the discarded quilt up over me instead, an action Charlie’s keen eye didn’t miss. “Hey, you don’t have to cover up on my account. Casual nudity. Shifters. I get it.”

“You’ve come a long way since last fall,” I murmured, hugging the quilt a little tighter and hoping it would warm the cold hole in my belly.

“Shifters. Magic.” Charlie shrugged. “Once I accepted that the majority of the human body is made up of empty spaces between electrons, everything else was a breeze. Now eat.”

The trouble was, the cut egg yolk oozing out of my half of the sandwich was precisely the texture of semen. I had an abrupt urge to hit the bathroom and peer at my thighs in search of crusted substances. Because if Thom and I had broken our friends-only agreement…well, he might never forgive me.

“Kira. Food. I mean it.”

Charlie wasn’t going to let the matter slide. So I forced myself to pick up her gift, allowing the awfulness to drip onto the plate while I contemplated bringing it to my lips.

A bite was beyond me, but a word wasn’t. “Sure.”

And, apparently that was enough for Charlie because she took a deep breath then spoke a little too fast. “So…Jessie’s coming to visit this weekend. She’s bringing the whole family. You good with that?”

My eyebrows shot up, the question marks of last night fading for one split second. I hadn’t seen Charlie’s twin since college. Hadn’t seen Jessie’s husband either, which was very understandable since Ito was the reason the Raven girls and I had lost touch.

“Is Ito willing to see me?”

“He’s not unwilling,” Charlie prevaricated, polishing off the last of her sandwich then licking crumbs off her fingers. A dab of yolk on the corner of her mouth made my gorge rise. “He doesn’t blame you for not being able to find his brother, you know. You and Thom pulled out all the stops, uncovered everything there was to uncover. The trail is simply cold.”

While true, my recent failure to track down Charlie’s sister’s husband’s brother—and, yes, I knew how convoluted that sounded—only layered on top of Ito’s and my ancient history. History that culminated with my sister using his brother to fuel a spell that locked Kaito in a coma for over a decade. No wonder Kaito had fled after waking up three months ago, completely disappearing off the face of the earth.

Whatever Charlie said, given the fact that all my efforts to track down Kaito turned up goose eggs, I didn’t expect Ito to be keen on seeing me tomorrow.

“Maybe I should make myself scarce,” I offered, letting my half of the breakfast sandwich drift back down to the plate.

“No.” Charlie was halfway across the room now, pulling on her coat, hat, and gloves. “I want you here. It’ll be fine. Oh, and Thom asked me to give you this.”

My cell phone tumbled through the air between us. The phone…but no medallion.

I must have winced because Charlie breezed back over to pat me on the head the same way she used to when I was the younger tagalong to her two-sister posse. “Don’t worry about my brother-in-law. Ito is a teddy bear. Once you two spend a little time together, you’ll be BFFs.”

I’d actually forgotten about Ito already. And about the fact that Charlie’s sister’s visit wasn’t the only thing my housemate had wanted to discuss with me. I forced my voice to brighten. “You said we had two things to talk about?”

Charlie considered me for a moment, then she shook her head. “Later. Don’t want to make us both late for work.”

​Chapter 3

I wasn’t late for work, but only because I lacked a permanent job. I did have a login to an app from a temp agency, though, one that offered the best gigs to the earliest applicants to rise.

It was already half an hour past my usual check-in time, but I headed for my personal messages first. And there, at the top of my notifications, was a text from Thom.

“Nothing happened.”

My breath whooshed out in what was only half relief. Nothing happened…because Thom had stood firm against my wild advances? Because he’d brought me home and, what, sedated me?

And if nothing had happened, why hadn’t his mother’s medallion been sent back to me along with my phone?

Just like Charlie’s aborted conversation, Thom and I would need to talk at some point. But, right now, retreating ice beneath my skin turned that drippy egg yolk back into food I was ravenous for. I wolfed it down while opening up the temping app.

The best jobs went to the early birds and I’d overslept. Which is how, three hours later, I came to be standing on a cold street corner dressed like a slice of pizza while twirling a saucer of fabric that was supposed to look like dough over my head.

“Delicious pizza! Get your slice here!”

A couple of teenage boys walked past, snickering into their fists. “I’d like a slice of that,” one said just loudly enough that even a human would have overheard him.

I ignored the commentary and focused on the lines I’d been given. “Hot and ready! Deep dish!”

The next laugh was feminine, familiar…and behind me where no one should have been.

I spun on feet that weren’t as fleet as usual when bogged down by the non-bending crust of the pizza costume. My star ball—the magic that let me turn into a fox or materialize pointy as well as non-pointy objects—tingled at my fingertips, but I didn’t dare pull a weapon out of thin air at the moment. Not here among humans. Not in front of someone who had been known to put non-shifters to death for seeing things they shouldn’t see.

Instead, I greeted the woman who used to employ me with her name only. “Scarlet.”

***

When I’d seen her last, my ex-boss had been vanquished but not downtrodden. She’d tossed warnings back over her shoulder at me and Thom. Warnings that had teeth as sharp as any werewolf’s. Specifically, she’d sworn to gather more alphas to defeat us if we didn’t keep the magic of Gate City under wraps.

But the fox skull in the Full Moon Saloon’s crawl space was locked away beneath a newly formed trapdoor only Thom and I were aware of. The drama of a werewolf battle on city streets had faded as those not in the know accepted Thom’s reimagining of events.

Noses were clean. Scarlet had no reason to track me down. So I twirled my pizza with only a small twinge of trepidation while demanding: “What do you want?”

My ex-boss graced me with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m here about your darling niece.”

The dough splatted onto the sidewalk. “Chipmunk? What’s wrong with her?”

“Sniffles. A cough. I hear she cries half the night.”

And now my star ball was a stiletto. A knife small and thin enough not to be obvious to passersby, but wickedly sharp anyway as it dug into the skin above Scarlet’s left kidney. Rather than threatening with words, I released a vulpine growl.

Scarlet merely laughed. “Relax. I saw the baby when I asked your sister for a favor. She turned me down, so I’ve come to you.”

I snorted. If Mai didn’t want to assist Scarlet, I didn’t either.

Still, the fastest way to get rid of Scarlet likely involved hearing her out. “I’m listening.”

Of course, she didn’t tell me what she wanted immediately. Instead, she tried to reel me in first. “I’m in a bind that requires a kitsune and you have a hankering to meet your sister’s newborn. Make a deal with me and we can both get what we want.”

The knife sagged for one split second. I wanted that. I wanted that badly.

But it wasn’t happening. Pressing the weapon back into place, I shook my head. “Let me guess. You’re asking me to drink a werewolf’s blood on video and turn into a pariah while nearly bringing my family down with me. Oh, wait, that happened already. What else do you have planned?”

“You take things so personally. Last fall was only business.”

I dropped my voice as I let the knife dig in deeper. “Murdering an innocent was only business?”

“She was meat. Irrelevant.” Rather than taking evasive action against my very tangible threat, Scarlet flicked a speck of invisible dust off the sleeve of her silk blouse. “Do you want to be back in the packs’ good graces or don’t you? This is your path home.”

And I did want that, darn Scarlet anyway. I wanted to be able to see my niece in the flesh, rather than through a phone screen. I wanted to be able to smell her and hold her and have her understand I was present in a way she couldn’t via video chat.

I wanted all that…and at the same time I wanted to make sure my sister’s family remained safe. That my mistakes in the past didn’t color Chipmunk’s future. That angry werewolves didn’t invade the Fairwood territory to take out what many considered to be a threat.

Kitsunes. Our reputation for danger had doubled after I drank the blood of three alphas and forced them to do my bidding. Oops.

I stood by my decisions last fall, especially the one where I’d broken off official ties with my sister so my actions wouldn’t blow back on her. It was why I hadn’t been present for the birth of her daughter. It was why I was trying to make a place for myself in Gate City, even though half the werewolves there didn’t trust me and their alpha now likely considered me a loose cannon with a lit fuse.

Despite the awkwardness of last night, the thought of Thom settled me. What would he say in the face of Scarlet’s insidious offer?

Words that tasted like Thom rolled off my tongue easily. “I’d need assurances this time. That I’m acting in an official Lawkeeper capacity. That what I do is entirely aboveboard.”

Because that was the clincher. Scarlet had tricked me twice already. A third attempt at trickery was—as Charlie would have said—a statistical likelihood. I’d be an idiot to ignore that fact.

Sure enough, my ex-boss’s lips pursed. “Well, that’s the trouble. It won’t be aboveboard. You’ll be hunting on the land of one of the alphas whose blood you drank and who has no wish to see you living.”

Her words wound around me like slithering snakes as she continued. “But if you catch the fox who’s wreaking havoc, I give you my word I will do everything in my power to polish your reputation so you can safely go home to your sister.”

Her words reeked of truth.

​Chapter 4

I was going to do it, or at least I was going to stick my nose into the problem and hope to come out better than I’d started. I knew that even as I snapped back at Scarlet. “I’m surprised you don’t think Mai and I are responsible for whatever’s happened.” We were, after all, the only known kitsunes in the United States who weren’t currently stuck in the form of a fox.

And even though my tone had been as sharp-edged as the blade I still pressed into her side, Scarlet’s scent sweetened. She knew she had me. “Well, I would have made that assumption if the fox had been female.”

Curiosity tugged words from my lips before I could edit them. “That makes no sense. Kitsunes are always female.”

I didn’t bother to expand on the information, to tell Scarlet what became of the sons and cousins of fox shifters. Traditionally, male relatives were turned over to a different kitsune mistress to form her honor guard, boosting her magic with their mindless devotion. So, yes, in their own way, males were powerful. But they didn’t shift into fox form.

Of course, mentioning that semi-parasitic relationship to Scarlet was bound to turn me into even more of a dangerous outsider. I winced and Scarlet noticed because her eyes glinted.

She stuck to the point, however, when she answered. “That was my understanding also. But this fox? He was male.”

Male and, as I learned when Scarlet added more details, performing some sort of ritual in the Reed pack’s territory. Once a month, on the night of the full moon.

My breath must have caught at that point because Scarlet’s eyes narrowed again. “You know something about this already.”

“No.” I didn’t know anything. But I was drawing conclusions about the strange obsession that had come over me at the exact same time this male fox trespassed. And, perhaps, about Kaito, woken from his coma then disappearing off the radar a short time before the first tug at my libido that just happened to coincide with the November full moon.

If the fox in question was Kaito…. Well, any information Scarlet had would help me figure out how to approach the problem.

“You say he’s male,” I pressed, “so you’ve seen this fox. Why didn’t you deal with him already?”

For the first time, Scarlet showed signs of agitation. Her foot tapped. Her muscles stiffened. She wasn’t lying, just unhappy with what she was about to say.

“We didn’t see him,” she admitted after a pause. “We smelled him. The Reed alpha found his trail after the first incursion, patrolled and prepared then somehow ended up running in circles during the second full moon.”

“So they called in the Lawkeepers,” I guessed.

Scarlet nodded, a sharp jerk of her chin. “Last night, I was ready for anything. I had two wolves with me as backup. And all three of us ended up falling asleep in the forest, waking to the scent of an absent fox.”

Inhaling deeply, I let my knife seep back into my fingers. The danger from Scarlet was no less, but it wasn’t imminent. Instead, peril hung on the fine line I intended to walk.

Because I wasn’t about to turn Charlie against me. My human friend loved her brother-in-law and that brother-in-law loved Kaito.

But if Kaito was manipulating my emotions, I needed to stop him. To help him find another way to achieve whatever desperate end he was working toward.

Teaming up with Scarlet, however temporarily, might achieve that effect.

A shout from behind us interrupted my thought processes. “Hey!” My boss for the day, a plump woman with a drill sergeant’s voice, had burst out of her restaurant’s door and stood with her hands on her hips, glaring. “More tossing, less gabbing!”

And it turned out I didn’t need to make my case because Scarlet’s smile was almost feline. “You have twenty-eight days to find this fox,” she told me. “He needs to be caught before the next full moon. Miss this window and my offer is void.”

***

I could have gone hunting alone in an enemy werewolf’s territory, or I could have left my shift early and headed to Gate City to ask Thom for help in person. Instead, I took the middle road and texted him my plans.

Thom’s reply was quick and helpful. He wasn’t keen on the idea, but if I was going he was going. He was willing to strategize and even offered a GPS address at the edge of his territory, one that appeared to represent a place where we could park cars on Gate City turf and keep our trespassing to the bare minimum.

What he didn’t mention was anything more about yesterday. Nor did he clue me in that he planned to invite the entire pack.

Which is why I slammed on my brakes as I drove down the isolated forest-service road expecting Thom’s truck to be the only one in the pull-off and found a dozen vehicles crammed along the verge instead. Men of all ages were stripping, breath pluming in front of headlights but shivers irrelevant since fur was quickly forthcoming. Half were four-footed already, chasing each other through the trees in werewolf joy at running wild. The rest were well on their way to lupine form.

Except me, Thom, and the shifter who’d apparently left his only family member behind in Gate City.

“What part of all hands on deck sounded optional to you?” Thom demanded, his voice both firm and commanding. Raised by a human father, Thom had been a reluctant alpha. Now, though, his newfound combination of power and control drew me in closer. It wasn’t the moon this time that made my eyes soak up his form as if he was water in the desert. It wasn’t the moon, so I managed to keep my thoughts to myself.

Still I advanced. And as I did, I noted the moment my scent invaded Thom’s nostrils. Saw his eyes flick toward me then away again.

He didn’t spare me any words however. Not even a carefully weighted admonition like the one he’d lowered on his underling. I flinched. Clearly, even though he said nothing had happened, Thom wasn’t over last night.

The urge to clear the air with words was nearly overwhelming, but this was very much not the time or place. Especially since the shifter Thom had addressed was muttering a half-hearted explanation. “Kid wasn’t feeling good.”

With an effort, I transferred my gaze from Thom to Hank, taking in as much of the latter as I could with his ever-present cowboy hat blocking moonlight from his features. Even without a view of the shifter’s face, I could sense his recalcitrance. Saw it in the way his square chin turned away from his alpha. Smelled it in the acrid scent that lingered in the air.

That resistance to Thom’s orders was odd coming from a shifter who acted as a dependable protector to his decade-younger brother. By lone wolf standards and despite being only in his early twenties, Hank was a solid family man.

“I understand that you want to protect him,” Thom answered, his thoughts likely following a similar path to mine. “But your brother is old enough to shift and he’s part of this pack. I want him here.”

The proper response would have been an apology or at least an explanation. Instead, Hank shrugged. “Too late now. Kid’s in bed.”

He punctuated his statement by spitting on the ground in a mild act of insolence. The stream of fluid, I noted, was aimed well clear of his alpha.

Unfortunately, Hank hadn’t counted on my proximity. Perhaps hadn’t smelled me the way Thom had.

Whatever the reason, liquid splattered against the boots I’d drawn back on after shedding my pizza costume. Thom’s scent turned dark and dangerous as his fists clenched.

​Chapter 5

Up until the spit hit my boots, it had appeared that all other werewolves were busy kicking up their heels and reveling in their fur forms. But every action in the pack revolved around Thom. Even the most hardcore frolickers kept one eye tuned to their alpha as they played.

No wonder silence and stillness settled on the gathering like dust after an explosion. The only sound came from a single werewolf caught midshift who seemed to be afraid to move backward to humanity or forward to fur form. The stuck shifter’s pain nipped at my nostrils while his lupine hind legs scratched uncontrollably against the earth.

Despite being able to smell the issue as well as I could, Thom did nothing. Well, nothing other than loom and glower like the alpha he’d become over the last three months.

No wonder Hank’s cowboy hat bowed down in apology. “Forgive me, Chief Faris.”

Thom didn’t absolve him, but he didn’t attack either. Instead, he made a sound in the back of his throat that could have been acceptance if that’s what you were listening for, then he turned away to strip alongside the rest of his pack.

And I stripped too. Stripped and shifted, not to wolf but to fox form.

Fox with a magical backpack created out of my star ball. Because I wasn’t about to trespass without tools.

In this case, I chose to bring along my cell phone plus a vial of stolen werewolf blood that would hopefully keep the Reed alpha in line if we came face to face with him. I’d used the blood once before, last fall, to force invaders out of Thom’s territory. If I had to, I’d drink another sip and force Chief Reed to let our pack go today.

Even though my entire purpose in materializing the backpack was to protect us, Thom’s wolves still shied away from the luminous evidence of my difference. Teeth bared, they put space between themselves and the glowing star-ball magic. Their larger size was daunting in moonlight.

But there was no time to be daunted. Not when Thom was drawing us all into the darkness of tree cover. The pack avoided me at first, then accepted matters and enfolded me. Behind us, one by one, shifters left in charge of idling vehicles winked their headlights out.

***

I once read that wild wolf territories contain unused spaces running the length of boundaries, the no man’s land meant to prevent bloody battles. But werewolves are half-human with the two-legger urge to mark the exact edges of their property. No wonder I smelled piss on both sides as we leapt one by one over the line that separated Thom’s land from the domain of the Reed pack.

Now we were trespassing, silent save for frost crunching beneath our paws as we pressed deeper into Reed territory. In our planning texts, the ones where Thom had neglected to mention he was bringing along the entire pack plus a bad attitude, I’d suggested that he howl and draw the patrols away so I could sleuth solo. But he’d rejected that plan, wanting any discovery of our presence to appear organic. Now, we slowed our footfalls and spread out into a looser wedge, the better to be stumbled across.

Then I smelled it. The first hint of fox scent suggesting Scarlet hadn’t been playing with me. Scent not just vulpine but also undeniably male.

And now that I’d had time to digest Scarlet’s bombshell, maybe the presumed impossibility made sense after all. Yes, it was true that, unlike werewolves, kitsunes were always female while male relatives donated their latent magic to a mistress. They had no ability to form a star ball or to shift, but wouldn’t those males still smell a little foxy? Especially if they were performing a magical ritual, one that might or might not have forced me to make a fool of myself last night.

Whatever the reason, I smelled a male fox now. I couldn’t tell if this was Kaito, but I intended to follow that scent trail and discover what lay at the end of it regardless. Veering away from Thom and his pack mates, I leapt onto a fallen tree and used it to bypass a tangle of thorns and brush.

The fox scent beneath my feet was fresher than the wolf urine at the boundary, suggesting whoever I smelled was actively walking through the forest right at this moment. Which was a good thing. Maybe we could nab Kaito and be back at the cars before our presence was noted. Perhaps it would be simple to talk him out of whatever he was doing, simple enough that I could set Scarlet’s mind at ease without handing Kaito over to the Lawkeepers.

A howl rose from behind me. Another, then a sharp bark of warning.

No such luck.

Keep reading on the retailer of your choice….

 

Full Moon Saloon excerpt

Kira is a fox shifter making a name for herself in a wolf’s world. But when she’s sent to arrest an alpha who turns out to be innocent, she can’t force herself to keep following orders like a wolf….

Full Moon Saloon excerpt

Chapter 1

Girls’ night out in a shifter bar?

I cocked my head at the cursive neon lights that glowed above the door of the blocky, three-story building. Then I checked my phone. Yep, this was the address Charlie had provided in her emailed invitation.

She just hadn’t included the establishment’s name—Full Moon Saloon. And her nose wouldn’t have picked up on the scent of fur that overwhelmed car exhaust and autumn leaves while I lingered on the busy sidewalk out front.

The question was—why would my entirely human friend pick this place? Charlie had no concept that some of us went furry on occasion.

Or so I thought. Given the dangers to Charlie of learning about shifters’ existence, so I hoped.

I shrugged away the trickle of concern and pushed the heavy door open, blinking as my eyes adjusted to the dim, throbbing interior. The scent of fur was stronger here, but a quick scan suggested no one was four-legged at the moment.

Danger, however, infused the space. Someone was hunting. But who and hunting what?

The establishment was smaller than it had appeared from outside, a closed door off to my right and one behind the bar leading to apparently non-public parts of the building. But that didn’t mean it was easy to find the hunter. Shifters were everywhere, elbows planted on polished wood tables, booted feet invading walkways, husky chuckles nibbling into the back of my neck.

My eyes settled on the broad shadow of the proprietor. Separated from his customers by a bar that ran the length of the room, his right hand caressed the long counter as if it wasn’t a hunk of dented and scarred wood but was instead a woman’s hip.

Wait, no, he wasn’t caressing the bar. He was wiping down its surface.

And he wasn’t hunting. The trickle of cold in my spine came from somewhere else.

I found Charlie before I spotted the hunter. Or rather, she found me.

“Kira!” Her greeting trilled above the music and chatter. Her hug struck like a rattlesnake and for one split second I let old memories bite.

Swords, camaraderie, and cascades of laughter. Cramming for finals while lounging knee to knee atop a white, fluffy rug in the twins’ dorm room.

Then emptiness. Silence. Friendship disappearing without explanation.

I swallowed, forcing myself out of the past to focus on the present. On a friend redolent with chemical reagents and bunsen-burner fuel, just like she’d smelled way back when.

Charlie squeezed me tighter before pushing me back to arm’s length. “You look exactly the same.”

Of course I did. My half-Japanese heritage meant I was often mistaken for a teenager even though I was actually midway through my twenties. Speaking Charlie’s language, I shrugged. “Blame it on the genes.”

“Hmm.” She squinched her eyes half shut. “You’re starving. Better feed you before something breaks. Thom, can you nuke us a pizza?”

Bar pizza was vile. Still, my stomach growled and Charlie released her customary peal of horse-snort laughter while drawing me toward the puddle of light above two empty bar stools.

“That what you want?” The bartender—Thom—didn’t look in my direction. But he was closer now, or so my nose informed me. Close enough that I could tell he wasn’t much older than Charlie. That his scent wasn’t mere shifter fur but instead carried the headier musk of dominant alpha werewolf.

Still, his question came out gentle. Not subservient, but protective. As if he’d smelled my initial caution and wanted to make sure Charlie wasn’t steamrollering over my wishes.

She wasn’t. Tonight, vile bar pizza with Charlie was exactly what I wanted.

And, without me needing to turn that thought into a verbalization, Thom nodded. Dropped the cloth onto the counter then headed away from us through a door into what was presumably a kitchen, leaving me alone with my once-friend.

***

“It’s been too long,” Charlie said as I sank down onto the bar stool beside her.

I nodded but kept scanning the room. Because the scent of the hunter had rebounded even stronger as Thom stepped away from us. And, being human, there was a good chance Charlie was the one in the predator’s sights….

Well, make that a slight chance. The bar wasn’t just full of werewolves the way I’d initially assumed; it also contained a healthy helping of non-shifters. For example, a man and a woman, clearly on a date, were laughing at a table only feet from three snarly werewolves. The combination, loosened by alcohol, seemed problematic at best.

But as I turned my head, seeking danger, the certainty that a hunter stalked the premises faded from my hair follicles. And Charlie’s words snagged my attention instead.

“I’m glad you emailed.”

My brows drew together. I hadn’t emailed.

Well, I guess I had. I’d sent out a group request for contributions to the alumni magazine last winter. “I—”

She spoke over me. “Can we not talk about what happened? At least not tonight.”

Charlie and her twin had been adorable as teenagers, all big blue eyes and glossy curls. Now, at twenty-eight, her prettiness had matured into elegance. If she’d wanted, she could have used that beauty the same way I used my understanding of human psychology—to wrap everyone around her little finger.

Which wasn’t why I nodded. I nodded because those usually wide eyes were squinting painfully. Charlie’s smile wasn’t as broad as I remembered it being. And, frankly, I didn’t want to sully the present with the past any more than she did.

“So you’re a chemist,” I guessed based on the parts of Charlie’s scent that had carried over from college. “What awesome discoveries are you on the trail of?”

And just like that, the awkwardness receded. Charlie waggled her eyebrows, her voice turning confidential. “I work on a military base. If I told you more, I’d have to kill you. But here’s a hint—Gate City ghost!”

Her arms waved wildly, as if including me in a well-known secret I wasn’t actually aware of. Or maybe she thought there was a specter present in the bar beside us. Never mind that ghosts, I was pretty sure, didn’t exist.

I hummed noncommittally, the time we’d spent apart yawning wider. And Charlie deftly changed the subject, pointing her chin at my sword then tossing out a conversational gambit that I could run with.

“And you. I’ll bet you’re still charming your way out of trouble while wearing the cutest, sharpest sword this side of the Mississippi. Let me guess.” She bit her lip, gloss catching a glint of lamplight. “Pirate?”

“Law enforcement,” I told her, which was only sort of a lie.

“Ooh, adventure. Dish, please.”

So I regaled Charlie with the tale of my latest escapade, leaving out bits where the trespasser had gone furry and tried to nibble his way through my trousers. We were both laughing when Thom slid dinner between us, a pizza that he’d somehow dressed up to become more than thin layers of toppings atop wheat-based cardboard.

“Full Moon Special,” he said, eyes remaining hidden. This close, his presence was hotter than the molten cheese that drew my fingers and made me forget about the danger of a scorched tongue.

Something unfamiliar and heady fluttered through me and I shivered. Charlie, never one to miss a physical reaction, poked at the goosebumps beading on my forearms.

“You don’t want to go there,” she whispered, her tone low enough so the human two bar stools down wouldn’t hear. “Thom doesn’t date. Doesn’t hook up either.”

Unfortunately, Charlie didn’t understand the superior auditory abilities of werewolves. The scent of amusement emanating from the alpha werewolf roiled between us in a wave of spice.

“Good. Great.” I took my slice with me as I spun the stool all the way around so my back was to the source of my chagrin. “Why don’t you tell me about them?” I asked, waving vaguely at the other bar patrons before biting into the Full Moon Special. It had real parmesan on top, along with fresh pepperoni that sparked my taste buds wide awake.

“The best part of moving here,” Charlie agreed. Picking up her own slice, she used it to point at two women parked at a table in one corner. “Officers’ wives rubbing shoulders with scientists and locals. Never a dull moment in the Full Moon Saloon.”

For a moment, the buzz in my brain made it impossible to focus. Then Thom’s scent receded, the gentle whoosh of the kitchen door promising he’d taken pity on me.

And, at the same moment, the scent of active predator reasserted itself. Someone was hunting. Nearby. Intently. And they were very close to the kill.

Luckily, Charlie seemed content to chat about the people around us, giving me further opportunity to peer past my pizza into the room. As best I could tell, the so-called locals were evenly split between werewolves and farmers. Other than the oblivious dating couple, most of the humans seemed to have chosen spots far from danger. Which made sense—humans usually sensed shifters’ predatory nature at an instinctive level and took steps to preserve their own skins.

Well, no, the couple on a date weren’t the only ones lacking hairs-on-the-back-of-your-neck sensitivity. A young human’s reed-thin arms shook as he braced himself one-handed against a wobbly walker. Beside him hovered a very rough-round-the-edges werewolf, young yet bulky. The shifter’s gaze riveted on the human as if the latter was a juicy rabbit just waiting to be snapped up.

“That’s my boss’s son, Eli,” Charlie explained, catching the direction of my gaze if not the purpose for it. “He makes friends with everybody.”

In fact, Eli appeared to be telling the werewolf beside him about the history of bar games even as he struggled to pick up a dart. The tiniest hint of a smile fluttered across the werewolf’s lips and I relaxed.

Yes, this werewolf was hunting. But not blood. I suspected he intended to fleece Eli for all the young man was worth.

For his part, Eli’s stream of chatter was so relentless that I blinked and nearly missed the moment his laboriously lifted metal projectile landed dead center in the dart board. “Looks like you’re paying,” Eli crowed, his jubilation resembling that of a ten-year-old winning a heated round of Monopoly. “I’ll take Pepsi. In a glass. With a cherry on top.”

What do you do when a rabbit turns on you with teeth bared? I would have been tempted to laugh and accept failure. The hunting werewolf didn’t share my approach.

Instead, a fist thudded onto the table between them, rattling empty glasses. The werewolf growled something wordless that, to a shifter, would have come across as a threat to rip out throats.

“Don’t feel bad,” Eli offered, leaning in closer so he could pat the irate shifter’s shoulder. “I’ve been practicing.” Then, as if reciting truisms from a parent: “Losing just means you need to try harder. You’re still a worthwhile person inside.”

Beside me, Charlie snickered. She thought Eli was tweaking the nose of a rough-around-the-edges bar patron. What she didn’t realize was the sharpness of that bar patron’s teeth.

Sure enough, Eli’s pat turned the werewolf’s muscles stiff. Then he made everything much, much worse.

Leaving his walker behind entirely, Eli flung himself into a hug that wouldn’t really have been considered appropriate even among humans. With an irate werewolf, the gesture was deeply unwise.

I dropped my pizza and drew my sword as the werewolf’s scent turned dark and dangerous. He shoved Eli hard at the same instant Charlie muttered, “Oh shit.”

Chapter 2

We weren’t close enough to catch Eli as he was flung backwards, but someone else was. One of the military wives scrambled forward, perfume seething around her person as she sank down to her knees with Eli’s head cradled in her lap.

“He’s fragile!” she warned.

And the shifter picked up the nearest table. Hefted it as if the metal and wood weighed no more than a soccer ball and would be just as easy to toss toward Eli’s head.

Unlike a soccer ball, however, the heavy furniture wouldn’t bounce harmlessly away when it made contact. Instead, features would shatter. Blood would fountain. Bones would break.

Luckily, Charlie and I were able to prevent that disaster from unfolding. “Pied Piper?” my friend murmured. “You don’t happen to have another sword handy, do you?”

“Always,” I lied, tossing her the non-magical weapon I’d been holding. As she tested its balance, I mentally massaged my star ball to create another blade in a newly materialized scabbard running the length of my spine.

Because a kitsune’s star ball was one of our greatest assets. Made up of immaterial energy that helped us shift in the blink of an eye, the star ball could also be solidified into physical objects both visible and very, very tangible. The only danger being that separation from the result sapped my strength as quickly as water drained through a yanked bathtub plug.

I didn’t intend to be separated from my star-ball sword, however. Instead, I twisted the blade until it caught a glint of light from the dangling ceiling lamps, shining warning into the shifter’s eyes.

He curled back his lips, snarling. I cocked my head, grinning at the haze of adrenaline fizzing through my veins.

I didn’t speak to the werewolf, however. Instead, I addressed Charlie in a voice loud enough to catch everyone’s attention. “Wanna do it? Right now? Outside for all the world to see?”

Charlie wiggled her eyebrows just like she had in the college cafeteria when we were trying to catch cute guys’ attention. “I can’t wait to see who ends up on top, you or me.”

The werewolf, bless his heart, panted. He really was pretty far gone into his animal self. The never-to-be-flung table clattered to the ground as my sword curved towards Charlie’s.

Just a tap. A clang of steel on steel to solidify any wandering attention.

Then I was sidling backwards while Charlie ushered me doorward, her sword nudging mine when our trajectory needed a tweak. We’d perfected this dance years ago, so I was able to let my muscles drift into autopilot while I scanned the interior of the space.

The formerly irate werewolf wasn’t the only one following after us. As best I could tell, we’d attracted the attention of every red-blooded male in the Full Moon Saloon.

Every male…including Thom. He slammed out of the kitchen like a storm cloud, taking in the scene with one glance before vaulting across the bar. Hard boots gashed a new dent in the surface of the wood he’d so lovingly polished earlier. His gaze, when it met mine for the first time, was like an icepick to the brain.

Blue eyes boasted the hue of a submerged glacier. Luminous yet hooded. Wild and dangerous and dark.

For one split second, I fell into the Antarctic Ocean. Then Charlie’s sword clanged into mine a little harder than necessary. Flinching back to reality, I noted that Thom had picked up his pace.

Which was when I realized he thought Charlie and I needed rescuing. “We’re fine,” I mouthed. “Check on Eli.”

Because Charlie’s boss’s son—man in stature, boy in behavior—seemed unharmed from a distance. He was on his feet, being guided back to his walker. But that fall hadn’t looked good….

Thom hesitated then swiveled away from me. The icepick eased up into a strange sort of yearning. I shook my head, refocusing on my friend.

“I wonder if one of these big guys would like to have a go with the winner?” Charlie mused, eyes sparkling. Then we were dancing out the door into the crispness of October in Virginia, two dozen hungry werewolves at our back.

***

Ten minutes later, we were still dancing, even though Charlie’s and my positions had reoriented so we could fend off the werewolves who’d piled on all at once. Their behavior was reprehensible…and deeply gratifying. Because it gave me permission to press my back up against the back of an old friend and whack sense into those who deserved whacking in perfect unison with someone not in my pack.

“I’m gonna drag you behind that car,” the werewolf in front of Charlie snarled, his words not quite words but still getting his point across. “Then…”

Charlie snorted before he could finish, twisting her blade and tapping him on the forehead with the flat so hard he yelped. “I suggest you go home.”

A human usually wouldn’t have been able to make headway against a shifter, but these werewolves had reflexes dulled by drinking. Plus, even though they wielded swords, I didn’t get the impression they trained with them. Typical of outpack wolves gathering in a bar like this.

No wonder the guy Charlie had struck mumbled something I pretended not to hear then turned away into the darkness. Returning my attention to my own fight, I slid beneath a hulking werewolf’s guard, locked the hilts of our swords, and flicked his off into traffic. A car’s brakes squealed and the shifter made a very similar noise as he hightailed it out of my blade’s reach.

In the lull as our remaining opponents realigned themselves, I checked on the real purpose of our endeavor. Yep, there was the slow-moving huddle I’d hoped for, skirting the edge of the battle. Eli in his walker, flanked by Thom and the overly perfumed military wife. The unlikely collaborators helped the young man into the back of a car, then Thom leaned his head in after to offer a few words.

“You’re safe here, Eli. I won’t let this happen again.”

The bartender’s words rumbled with werewolf danger, but Eli just laughed. “I know I’m safe. I don’t get nightmares.”

Then the military wife was easing the vehicle away into traffic and Thom’s icepick eyes met mine above three werewolves’ bobbing shoulders. His eyebrows rose, a question. I shook my head, a reply.

No, I neither needed nor wanted any help. This was all fun and games.

Behind me, Charlie disarmed another of her opponents just as ably as the first one. “You’ve been practicing,” I called over my shoulder.

“Not quite enough,” she answered, only slightly more out of breath than I was. “Swords don’t play a big role in lab work. Actually, I’m surprised they do in law enforcement. Since when do cops rely on blades instead of guns?”

“New thing.” My mouth puckered with the sour taste of the lie and I almost missed the shifter, not so wobbly as the others, who leapt up in my blind spot. I tried to parry, but the angle was wrong. Words, more instinct than expectation, barked out of my mouth.

“Charlie! Cobra!”

Even as I spoke, I rejected the expectation of assistance. After all, the term was a throwback to the days when Charlie, her twin, and I had all taken lessons under my sister. Ancient history. Unlikely to work today.

So I counterattacked, knowing as my arm lashed out that the wild blow wasn’t going to be effective.

To my surprise, our code was remembered. Charlie’s sword came stabbing back over her shoulder while I tossed myself sideways. And the werewolf who’d invaded my blind spot grunted in distress.

Charlie’s blind blow had only been a glancing one, but the guy still sheathed his sword, backing away from us with hands raised. The chance of an easy lay might have tempted him initially. But neither Charlie nor I was easy, not when we clenched swords in our fists.

And now the air between us sweetened. Moving in perfect harmony, only a few words were necessary to unite us in reminiscence.

“Remember that summer?” Charlie asked, referring to her twin’s kidnapping when I was in grade school and they weren’t much older, a trauma that had tugged us all so close together that we remained friends until college. After the event, the Raven twins had signed up for swordfighting lessons with my sister, which might explain why Charlie brought up the distant past now.

“Of course,” I answered. Then, broaching the topic I’d never been mature enough to ask at the time: “Do you think Jessie has flashbacks about it?”

“Nah.” Charlie’s blade flashed into my peripheral vision. We were almost out of werewolves to unite against. “Swords made us both strong.”

Then there were no opponents left. Just an empty sidewalk and the tentative germination of an old relationship turned new.

Assuming reality didn’t squelch that tender sprout of connection.

“We haven’t lost our touch,” I observed, swiveling to revel in our triumph.

But Charlie’s back was all that met my gaze. Her shoulders were tense the way they hadn’t been in battle.

“I need to visit the lady’s room,” she muttered. “I’ll be right back.”

Chapter 3

Here in front of the bar, there were three small round tables directly beneath a streetlight, each boasting two rusty metal chairs. Rather than following Charlie the way I wanted to, I sank into one of the latter. At least I could keep an eye on the werewolf who’d seemed most upset about losing to ensure he didn’t sneak inside and waylay Charlie while she was alone.

Nope, he was stalking off across the street, crossing against traffic. A horn blared and he shook a fist at the driver. Venting aggression at cars—great move, werewolf.

I was still chuckling at the loser’s misplaced testosterone when a deep, gritty voice curled out of the darkness right beside me. “Your drinks.”

Someone had slipped past my guard, which meant I should have sprung to my feet with sword extended. Should have swirled around until my blade bit into his throat.

Instead, I turned slowly, knowing who I’d see even before two of the pinkest, cutest beverages imaginable settled onto the table in front of me. I mean, there weren’t just umbrellas stuck into the neon-colored liquid. There were candy lips kissing each rim.

This was exactly the sort of frou-frou fun Charlie adored. Someone knew his clientele’s taste.

The bartender who’d carried them out to us, however, was ten times as enticing as the beverages. Tall, broad, well-muscled. Dark facial hair that formed a well-cropped shadow around a square jaw. Eyes that no longer averted themselves from mine, and a smile that softened crags like sun slipping through a break in a mountain range.

Add in the flannel shirt and I expected Thom to pull out an ax and go Paul Bunyan on me. No wonder I let flirtatious banter dance off my lips. “These are adorable. But could you possibly leave them for Charlie and make mine a virgin?”

I did want a non-alcoholic drink, but I’d also found that tossing the V word around tended to pique guys’ interest. Only…this time my effort backfired. The sun left the mountain and Thom’s question came out hard and cold. “Virgin?”

And banter eluded me. Words eluded me. Thom hadn’t repeated my request as a sexy rejoinder. Instead, his voice had gone gruff, his body language proving that I’d made a major faux pas.

Did Thom think I was making a dig about his refusal to date? Insinuating that he was a virgin because he couldn’t find a willing partner?

“No, no, no! That’s not what I meant!” Diarrhea of the mouth. How embarrassing. And I couldn’t quite make it stop. “This is about me, not about you. Bad idea to drink tonight.”

Someone laughed inside the bar. A car rolled past on the street in front of us, teenagers bobbing along to the beat of way too loud music.

Thom still didn’t speak.

So I did. “Why, you might ask, did I come to a bar if I don’t want to drink? That’s an excellent question. The deal is, I haven’t seen Charlie for six years, since I was a freshman in college and she ditched me without explanation. She sent me this address yesterday and I had the afternoon off. So of course I showed up.”

I slapped one hand across my face, covering up my eyes so I didn’t have to see Thom’s reaction. “And, yes, I did just air all my dirty laundry to a stranger. Kill me now.”

For another moment, the night hung heavy around us. Then soft flannel brushed my cheekbone. A gentle hand pried my fingers loose from their stranglehold grip on my forehead. I blinked and peered up, half hoping and half fearing that the icepick would reignite.

Only, Thom wasn’t watching me. Instead, his gaze turned the spot where Charlie and I had fought just a few minutes earlier. The scent of fur seethed around us, leftover from aggression released in battle. “I understand your caution,” Thom rumbled, the words vibrating like honeybees in my stomach. “But I, personally, will ensure your safety in my town.”

His town. So Thom was an alpha.

Filling in the blanks settled my crazy emotions. Helped me forget about the icepick and see what Thom saw.

He thought I was a female werewolf outside her pack showing understandable caution around a horde of riled shifters. “No, that’s not it,” I corrected. “Unfortunately, I have promises to keep. And miles to go before I sleep.”

And, apparently, no ability to come up with succinct replies that hadn’t first been written by dead poets. Argh!

Wait, that argh hadn’t emerged from my throat. It had instead come from Charlie as she dropped down into the other chair, formerly sweat-streaked hair reformed into its usual perfect waves through her entirely human sort of magic.

“No!” she continued, the joy of winning against so many opponents sloughing off her. “You’re staying the night. I have a guest room. Actual clean towels. Come on, Kira. Don’t let me down.”

And now, finally, ordinary words became available in my jumbled brain. “Family. They’re expecting me.”

I shrugged, realizing as I did so that Thom had slipped away, his absence allowing me to carry on an understandable conversation at long last. Which, after all, was why I was here.

So Charlie and I conversed while someone other than Thom delivered more drinks to our table. I tried not to be disappointed that his alpha musk didn’t reassert itself while I sipped something with no kick but great flavor. And, gradually, I lost myself in the recital of family business.

I told Charlie about my sister’s six-year-old son—“I call him Grub”—and current pregnancy with my first and only niece. She reciprocated with the tale of her twin sister’s job teaching fencing in the same school all three of us used to attend. Jessie had two-year old and four-year-old girls.

“Wow,” I murmured. “Babies everywhere.”

“Yeah. But you and I are single and out on the town!” Charlie, who had gulped down her first two drinks and sipped her way through a third and fourth, now grabbed her borrowed sword off the table and brandished it at the nearest streetlight.

The blade circled dizzily before tumbling back toward her upturned features. “How about I take that?” I pried the hilt out of my friend’s fingers one second before sharp steel made contact. Settling the weapon back into its sheathe at my hip, I added: “And take you home.”

“Already?”

“It’s two AM.”

And the bar was closing around us. While Charlie and I had been deep in conversation, the hot bartender must have turned things over to a less brain-fuzzing human woman. She was the one who had brought us drinks and who was currently locking the door to the Full Moon Saloon.

The empty Full Moon Saloon. I hadn’t noticed everyone else dribbling away while Charlie and I relived our past adventures. Hadn’t noticed the street turning somnolent. Now, the only illumination flickered out of streetlamps and a few porch lights.

“You two good to get home?” the closing bartender asked.

I nodded and returned my attention to Charlie. She’d relented and was doing her best to lever herself upright. Unfortunately, she kept canting sideways before she achieved a vertical state.

“Oopsie,” my friend murmured, catching herself just before she tumbled back into her seat a third time.

“Here.” I offered my arm and we stumbled through the night to the cute little house Charlie had clearly been fixing up for some time now. I settled her onto the sofa and promised: “We’ll stay in touch.”

“Always!” Charlie’s promise would have been more believable if a line of drool hadn’t already soaked into a throw pillow.

Still, the possibility of a rekindled friendship warmed me as I drove the long hours to the territory of the werewolf pack who’d propped me up when the Raven twins let me down so many years ago. Sneaking into my childhood bedroom through an unlocked window so as not to wake the inhabitants, I embraced my return to the place that would always be home to me.

Full Moon SaloonHere I was happy. Part of something bigger. Completely at peace.

What I didn’t learn until later is what else happened in Gate City that night. A woman who’d enjoyed herself in the Full Moon Saloon was found torn apart by animal teeth at a private zoo a few miles deeper in the countryside. My first instinct had been right. The uneasy alliance between humans and shifters at the Full Moon Saloon had been a powder keg waiting to ignite.

Keep reading in Full Moon Saloon…

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