Claiming the Moon (5 page)

“I always have,” she replied softly.

He watched her a moment, serious, before nodding. “What’s for dinner?”

She shrugged. Who could think of food right now? “Spaghetti maybe. Whatever I can scrounge up.”

He kissed her, humming against her lips, bringing her body to screaming life. “Yummy,” he said when he let her go, and she knew he wasn’t talking about food. “I won’t be gone long.”

He moved away a couple of feet, his body became a blur, and then the wolf stood before her. Smiling, she knelt in front of him, ran her hands through the thick, black fur that covered his sleek body. The wolf gave her face a long, wet lick, and laughing, she stood, watching as he left. He waited on the back step until she shut the door behind him. She didn’t lock it. He wouldn’t go far, and she knew he’d never let anyone close enough to hurt her.

She went into the large pantry and found the ingredients she wanted. There was one last jar of homemade spaghetti sauce, and she quickly browned a pound of ground beef to add to it. The mixture was simmering a few minutes later when she dropped the pasta into boiling water. Ten minutes later, she set two plates on the table just as Clint returned. They ate in a silence that felt heavy, loaded with possibilities and sensual promise.

He didn’t speak until he stood at her side, helping clean up the dishes. “Do you want to stay here? Or return to the Appalachian Pack?”

Her heart ached, and she shook her head. “Too many bad memories there. And…” She hesitated, not sure how to explain the home she’d found among the Hunters. “I do good here. I have purpose here.”

He nodded. “I’ll speak to Anthony. I’m sure he won’t mind having another hand available.”

She looked at him, knew her eyes had grown wide with worry, but didn’t try to hide it. “You don’t mean to go back on active Hunter status, do you?”

“No. Not unless it’s necessary, but we’ve always had that understanding.”

She nodded. It was very uncommon, but sometimes the Hunters called someone back. Someone with special skills or particular contacts. He was still watching her, but his expression had changed. Away from business. Back to the carnal.

“I want to take you under the moonlight.” He moved closer, until his erection pressed against her hip. “It’s almost full tonight.”

“The others,” she whispered.

“Will stay away from our balcony.”

She nodded, unable to deny him anything, and almost ran up the steps. He was right behind her, helping her undress, opening the French doors that led outside. The air rushing inside was cold, but she didn’t feel it. Moonlight poured in, and she watched him stare at her, struggle to control his breathing, while he slowly removed his jeans.

She backed out of the doors, loving the way he followed her, stalked her. Loving the way his eyes went wolf when she was outside, bathed in the moon’s glow.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, reaching her, reaching for her. He nipped her neck. Growled. “Mine.”

If it were possible, she would have melted into a puddle of need at his feet. “Then take me,” she whispered, goaded.

There was a lounge chair covered by a soft cushion on one end of the balcony, and he lay down on it, wrapped his hand around his jutting cock, and beckoned her to join him. Impossible to resist. She sauntered to him and straddled his hips, came crying his name as she sank slowly onto him.

He let her ride out the tremors, and when they subsided, he gripped her hips. Lifted her slowly up. Pushed her slowly back down. Torment. Wonderful, stunning torment. Gradually, the pace increased, his guiding hands ensuring a steady, hard rhythm. The pleasure wound higher and higher. The craving wound tighter and fiercer.

He came first, and the seed pulsing into her womb, the primal claiming, was all it took to push her off the ledge of sanity she’d been clinging to. His mouth fused to hers, catching her cries. Catching her as she fell and holding her up, gathering her close. She clung to him as if he was her lifeline, the only thing still holding her to the earth.

A long time later, she lifted her head from where it rested on his chest. She hadn’t even noticed the cold before, but now she shivered. He sat up, standing easily with her in his arms, and went back inside. He took her to bed and proceeded to make her forget her own name.

Chapter Five

Clint awoke alone, hard and wanting his mate, but he was smiling as he stretched his arms over his head. He glanced over at the clock on the nightstand and jerked up. Hell. Eight o’clock. He never slept this late. After hurrying through a shower, he dressed and went downstairs to find food and Ellen. He grinned. Not necessarily in that order.

He ignored the niggling doubt, the worry that she would reject him later. He had her now, and he’d do whatever he had to do to keep her.

No one was in the spacious foyer, so he entered the dining room. The sideboard was still loaded with food, and the other Hunters were in various stages of devouring it. He made himself a plate and sat down.

“You’re chipper this morning,” Anthony said archly.

Clint grinned at him, lifting a forkful of eggs to his mouth. After he swallowed, he asked, “Where’s Ellen?” He’d expected to see her in the dining room, wanted everyone to see the evidence of her claiming.

Anthony frowned. “I thought she hadn’t come down yet.”

Clint pushed his chair back and stood. “Where the fuck is she?” he muttered, not really asking anyone in particular. He hurried through the downstairs rooms, but returned to the dining room alone. Anthony looked up and met his gaze. His worry must have shown.

“Don’t worry. She usually stops by the post office on the way to work. That’s probably where she is.”

Clint pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and sat back down. She didn’t answer when he called. He was alarmed, but he didn’t know if he felt that from her through the bond, or if it was because he just didn’t like not having her near him. When she returned, he vowed, he’d never let her out of his sight again. He knew without a doubt she would never put up with that kind of absolute possessiveness, so he tried to banish the promise, tried to focus on his breakfast.

What had once been the best food he’d had in ages became cardboard. He ate anyway. Werewolves had higher metabolisms than humans, and he suspected he’d need all of his strength in the coming days.

Fear spiked through him, and he knew it was Ellen’s. Knew she was reaching out to him for help, but he had no idea where she was or how to reach her.

He looked at Anthony. “She’s in trouble.”

* * * * *

Ellen woke up warm and replete and happy. And waiting for the other shoe to drop. During the night, Clint had awakened her, hard and insistent and everything she’d ever wanted from him. But there seemed to be a desperate edge to it. She knew he was waiting, even anticipating, her rejection of him. Them. The bond between them. She had no idea why, but knew eventually he’d have to tell her.

Heart lodged in her throat, she got up and prepared for her day, refusing to ponder what was so bad he was certain she would turn from him. She couldn’t imagine anything so horrible it would kill her love for the wolf who had finally made his claim.

Downstairs, she checked the fax machine, but no new reports of rogues had come in. Odd. Things had been very quiet the last few weeks. That was why there were so many Hunters in the house now. Usually it was only Anthony and one more.

The bell rang, and she hurried to answer it. When so many people were in the house, it was easier to order in meals. Breakfast should be waiting on the other side. She frowned when she answered the door to a new delivery guy. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. She blew it off and took the bags from him before slamming the door shut, turning the lock, and resetting the alarm. Normally, they didn’t bother with the warning system, but after the attack at her condo, Anthony and Clint had both insisted.

In the dining room, she pulled boxes out and set them up, then tossed the bags in the garbage. She opened everything, but nothing looked appealing, so she didn’t eat. She was fighting the urge to go wake Clint up for round fifteen or so, but fought it. He was hiding something from her, something bad, and she wasn’t in a big hurry to find out what it was. She was enjoying being new to a mate bond, like being new to marriage. She did not intend to ruin it with dark secrets.

Sighing, she went to the room she sometimes used as an office. She preferred the library, where she could spread out her papers on the big table and the old chronicles were in easy reach. The office was where her work desktop was, however, and she hadn’t checked her email in a few days. Nothing was urgent, so she got her purse and keys.

No one was around yet. No one to entertain or distract her. She’d do the morning post office run and hopefully, when she got back, the house would be awake and busy.

The town was nestled in a small valley, the population a whopping four hundred. Everyone knew everyone. There were no strangers in Crossroads. She’d lived and worked with the Hunters since she was a teenager, so everyone knew her too. She spoke to several people before she went in the tiny building, but oddly, no one was around when she came out. She put a box of mail in the trunk and walked around to the driver’s door, but a hard male body pushed up against her, trapping her against the car before she could get it open.

* * * * *

Standing in the shadows of an alley, he watched her get out of her car. He shook with exhilaration, with triumph. He’d known she was a woman of routines, of habits, but hadn’t been sure the males surrounding her would allow her out alone. He had another plan to take her if necessary, but this was easier, faster. Ultimately more satisfying.

There were too many people around, so he continued to watch. To wait for the right moment. And it arrived when she exited the post office. Moving to the back of her car, she opened the trunk, not paying attention to her surroundings. He sneered and moved silently. She thought she was safe. She was about to learn otherwise.

He grabbed her at the driver’s door, using his bigger body to push her against the car. He had her, would kill her on their own lands to draw the others to him.

“I know what you are,” he accused. His voice was harsh.

Ellen recognized it from the attack outside her condo and realized why she hadn’t been able to pinpoint why the deliveryman had been so familiar, yet not anyone she recognized. She hadn’t seen his face that night, and he hadn’t spoken this morning. Anthony and Clint were going to freak out when they heard the man had been on the property and that close to her.

“You werewolves are a scourge on this earth. We’ll kill you all.”

Something hard pricked her side, and she reached for the mate bond, but she didn’t know how it worked. How to make it work. She tried to funnel her fear and need into it but didn’t know if it worked. Tears burned her eyes, and she hardened her resolve. She finally had Clint. She was not going to be intimidated, or worse, in broad daylight in the middle of
her
town. As if he sensed the change in her, he curled his hand around the nape of her neck and used his body to block anyone’s view who happened by.

And then luck, or karma, or a higher being, came to her rescue. She swore she felt something divine move toward her. Knew her imagination had gone into overdrive, but didn’t care when seconds later the dark blue chest of the town police chief filled her vision.

“Hey, Ellen,” his tone was affable, but his eyes were hard, glittering rocks. The stranger behind her backed off, and the knife disappeared. “How ya doing? Anthony’s looking for you. Something about late reports.”

What very few people knew was that Sam was Alpha of the small pack that made up about half the population of the town. Right now, he was all Alpha werewolf, his tone and body language aggressive and dominant. Then the knife was back, plunging into her side. She fell, and it seemed like she fell and fell and fell. Her assailant took off, and she clung to the sense of Clint that was in her mind, in her heart. Instead of pursuing him, Sam rushed to her side.

“Go after him,” she ordered. The wound hurt like hell, but it wasn’t fatal.

His jaw hardened. “Don’t worry. We’ll get him. I’ll wait with you for Anthony.” He looked pointedly at her neck. “And who else?” He helped her sit up with her back to the car, one hand pressed over her lower back where the knife had gone in.

“Clint Osborn,” she answered, trying to breathe through a kind of pain she’d never felt before. “Used to be a Hunter.”

He nodded. “I know him. Honey, we need to get you to the Doc. I’m going to carry you. Can you call Clint while I do that?”

Her head jerked once in affirmative. She patted her pockets but came up empty handed. “Phone?”

He stood, handed her his phone, and then stooped to pick her up. All the air in her lungs whooshed out at the movement. She breathed through the pain, struggled for control, and
felt
Clint coming for her. When she thought she could speak without stuttering, she called and left a message when he didn’t answer. Then did the same with Anthony. Reception was spotty here in the mountain valley, so she wasn’t surprised when she didn’t get through to either of them. They were probably on the winding road coming into town.