Hidden Moon (Hot Moon Rising #4) (8 page)

we all know, is a real handful. I’m not happy with the way everyone treated him when he

arrived. It was like high school all over again.”

“He’s a violent son of a bitch.” Curtis hammered his fingers on the counter. “I’ve got

the scars to prove it.”

She put her hand on her hip. “He hasn’t been anything but caring and giving since he

arrived.”

“His true nature will emerge eventually,” Curtis argued. “Once an alcoholic, always an

alcoholic. Once violent, always violent.”

“Curtis is right to be concerned,” Derek agreed. “We all are.”

“I told him to stay away from you, Shelley,” Curtis added. “Obviously, he didn’t

listen.”

Shelley’s heart thudded in her throat as she pictured the prom fight. She would never

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forgive herself if something like it happened again because of her.

“I forbid you to get into another fight with him.” Derek gripped his arm. “The

attraction between two mates is often too powerful to resist. You’ll understand when you

find yours.”

“The pack is in danger, but not from Alan. I can feel it.” She clenched her order pad.

“I don’t know how yet, but we’ll need him. Soon.”

Derek looked her in the eye. “Your intuition has always been spot-on. In the future,

though, discuss your concerns with me or at a pack meeting. Given our history, we can’t

afford to be complacent.”

“Will do.” She smiled, her shoulders ten pounds lighter. “I’ll go put in your orders.”

She couldn’t wait to escape to the kitchen and relive Alan’s hot, wet tongue burrowing

into her navel and teasing her clit. Her panties, barely dry from earlier, grew damp and

slick again.

When the bell above the front door jingled, her hackles rose and she dropped her pad

and pen. The nameless danger she’d been feeling for days concentrated on the stranger

in the suit. No one wore suits around here, and he had the creepiest, deadest eyes she’d

ever seen.

The rest of the pack also took notice. Conversations stopped, and several stares

drifted toward the man. She picked up what she’d dropped and observed, too.

“The dining room can seat fifty people.” Alan set down the crate of tomatoes from her

truck and pointed to the ceiling. “The roof was redone only two months ago.”

Shelley’s pulse dropped to zero.
Oh, Alan. No!
When he’d told her he planned to sell

Moonlight Diner, she figured she’d have some time to change his mind. At the least, a

member of the pack should have it. None of them even had a chance to review finances

and put together an offer.

“Excellent.” The stranger gave the room a quick glance. “Show me the kitchen.”

Derek stood and glared at the man. “This diner is not for sale.”

“The owner’s son here tells me it is,” the stranger replied, his eyes glittering with

warning.

“This is Graham Linden with Lobos Enterprises,” Alan said, wiping his sweaty brow.

“This is Derek Sawyer, our Al— Our town leader.”

“There’s been a misunderstanding,” Derek said, glaring at Alan next. “If you want

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some breakfast, we’ll get you a menu.”

Shelley hoped not. The mere sight of him made her skin crawl.

“No, thank you.” Graham straightened his silk tie. “I’m afraid my boss isn’t fond of

misunderstandings.”

“Is that a threat?” Derek asked.

“We intend to have this diner, one way or another. We prefer to handle the

transaction with a civilized sale, but the choice is up to you.” He reached inside his

jacket and pulled out a card, which he handed Alan. “I’ll be in touch.”

After he left, pandemonium erupted in the dining room. Derek rose and made

calming motions with his hands.

“Who is he?” someone asked.

“By the smell of him, he belongs to the Starwood pack,” Derek said. “They’re a

national outfit, and they like to take over regional packs like ours. They want to rule over

all the wolf shifters in the country.”

“Oh, no,” she whispered, her fingers drifting to her throat.

“Shelley, I’m afraid your intuition was right on the money as usual,” the Alpha said.

“We’re in real danger here.”

Alan raised his hands. “If his money is green, what difference does it make? It’s just a

diner.”

“It’s not just a diner.” Rand, sitting at the end of the breakfast bar, narrowed his silver

eyes. “It’s central to our pack and symbolic. If they take it, we may as well roll onto our

backs and wave our paws in the air.”

“I want out,” Alan insisted, swiping his fingers across his forehead. “Dad already gave

me his permission. Legally, I have the right to sell it.”

“No, you don’t,” Derek shot back. “Like it or not, you’re a member of this pack, and I

forbid you to sell it to them.”

“He’s not one of us,” Curtis said with a sneer. “Never was.”

Alan stalked to the crate of tomatoes he’d set down. Panic swirled in Shelley’s belly

when she felt the anger billowing off him like smoke. She cringed when he picked up one

of the tomatoes and crushed it. Red juice spurted between his fingers, reminding her of

blood. A fang lengthened and pierced his lip, drawing the real stuff.

She wished she could kiss it and make it go away before it turned into a scab. If only

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this whole rotten situation would go away, so they could live a happy, peaceful life

together as mates.

Alan grabbed a clean napkin from a nearby place setting and wiped off his messy

hands. The gesture reminded her of their lovemaking, sticky with orange juice. Had

their sweet joining happened a mere hour ago? It felt as if days had passed.

Please don’t prove them right. You’re not a violent freak. You’re a gentle, caring

man.

Shelley must have uttered some sound because his chocolate gaze rested on her. With

her eyes, she sent him love and peace, but he looked through her as if she weren’t even

there.

“I don’t want to be here,” he said slowly, glaring at the crate. “And you all don’t want

me here. Something’s got to give.”

“Look, we’ve pissed him off,” Curtis crowed. “He’s more dangerous than Starwood if

you ask me.”

“Shut up, Curtis. You’re not helping,” Derek snapped.

Alan’s body shook so hard, it appeared to blur—something she hadn’t seen since

prom night. With a growl of rage, he picked up the crate and flung it against the wall.

She covered her mouth to smother a cry as wood splintered and tomato pulp splattered

everywhere.

“Get me the fuck out of this hellhole!” he yelled.

More fangs pushed between his lips, drawing blood and reminding her of a vampire.

Hairs sprouted from his arms. He appeared completely out of control. Shelley glanced

around the room to make sure no tourists were there to witness the spectacle.

But even if he’d remained calm, he’d still sell them all out without blinking an eye.

The Starwood pack seemed serious about its threat. If Alan could walk away when she

and their pack were in danger, then he wasn’t the man she’d fallen in love with. Did she

cling to some schoolgirl fantasy, yearning for the class underdog because she couldn’t

have him? Maybe she’d matured the least of all of them.

She’d blurted out she loved him too soon. Passion and the instinct of being his mate

had popped those careless words into her mouth. Seeing his patience and caring for his

difficult father made her feelings for him grow, but he had a point. They really didn’t

know each other very well.

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“Hey, Scabs!” Triumph glittered in Curtis’s eyes as he leaned back in his seat like a

spectator at a ball game. “You won’t get much money for the place if you trash it.”

Derek and Rand bolted out of their seats and looped their arms through Alan’s. They

lifted him off his feet while he thrashed and kicked the air like a lunatic. They almost

lost their grip on him when he shifted into wolf form.

Except for the bare patches, his reddish-brown hackles vibrated from neck to tail.

Violent chills racked Shelley’s body when his foaming jaws snapped the air, seeking flesh

to bite. Unable to watch anymore, she looked down, half expecting to see the pink silk of

her prom dress instead of denim shorts.

Liana Aquino, a refugee from another pack and part-time waitress, grabbed a roll of

paper towels and the dishrag left behind on the breakfast counter to clean up the mess.

Shelley should help her, but her body had frozen into a rock.

She’d worked so hard to raise those tomatoes—starting them from seeds in the

greenhouse, fighting pests organically, picking, packing, and hauling them. Seeing the

satisfaction on the faces of the diner’s customers as they ate Don’s spaghetti sauce or

omelets made her efforts worthwhile.

But the man she supposedly loved had destroyed her harvest in a blink of an eye. If he

quarreled with her, would he throw her against the wall, too? After what she’d

witnessed, she wouldn’t put it past him.

When she could finally move her muscles, she dropped her order pad and ran

outside. Alan’s loss of control had to be contagious because she rushed behind the

building, dropped to all fours, and shifted. Never mind cleaning up his mess, prepping

sandwich fixings for lunch, or wondering if her clothes would still be there when she got

back. All she wanted to do was get away from him because he was right.

He
was
a freak!

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When Shelley bounded out the door, Alan loosed a howl that shook the rafters. He

hadn’t seen her shift but knew with a mate’s instinct she had. Every cell in his body

screamed for him to follow her.

Brett looked out the window. “Customers are coming.”

“Calm down.” Derek gave Alan a gentle shake. “Shift back now or pretend you’re my

dog.”

Alan went limp all at once, reverting to his human form.
Holy hell!
What had he

done? Luckily, he’d simply thrown some tomatoes and not tried to choke anyone, but

he’d lost control. What if he’d killed a tourist? He had to get out of Florida—quick. If he

ended up in jail, he wouldn’t have a normal life left to return to.

“Sorry,” he muttered while Rand helped him into his clothes. “I don’t know what got

into me.”

“We’ll figure something out,” Derek said.

Alan’s feet still itched with the urge to follow his mate and calm her down, but why

bother? He couldn’t erase the spectacle he’d created. It was for the best. Now that she’d

seen his true colors again, she wouldn’t try to keep him here anymore. Instead of relief, a

yawning emptiness opened inside him.

He cleared his throat, which was raw from screaming and howling. “I’ll start on

breakfast.”

“I’ll send someone in to help you.”

Alan held up a hand. “No. I need to be alone.”

When Shelley returned, and he knew she would out of duty, they needed to talk. Sure

enough, she rushed in fifteen minutes later with a handful of breakfast orders. By then,

the grill was hot, and he’d whipped up a bowl full of pancake batter.

For now, cooking channeled his jagged energy. For some strange reason, it felt better

today than sitting at a boring keyboard. Filling people’s stomachs, giving them strength

and sustenance, was more primal than a bunch of silly computers people had managed

to live without for centuries.

Her face remained expressionless as she handed him the breakfast orders like a

business colleague at the office, but her eyes were red. Had she been crying? When he

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picked up a tomato for an omelet, their gazes dropped to it then locked with each

other’s. The tiny flinch that ran through her—flickering in her eyes and rippling her

shoulders—flayed his heart.

“Should I duck?” she asked.

“I’m sorry, Shelley.” His throat was still so raw he felt as if he’d caught a bad cold. “I

didn’t mean to ruin your tomatoes.”

Remembering the big red stain on the wall made him shiver. Had he really done that?

In front of the whole pack, no less. Curtis had probably enjoyed the scene more than the

movies.

“It’s all right,” she said, sounding as expressionless as she looked. “You couldn’t help

it.”

He broke open an egg on the edge of a steel bowl. “At least now you see what I really

am and why I have to leave.”

She poured some pancake batter onto the grill, forming circles as round as her

breasts. The woman was way too damn perfect for a freak like him.

“I wish—” She bit her knuckle.

The egg slid onto the counter, instead of into the bowl. He couldn’t even scramble a

lousy egg without screwing it up. Part of him ached to pretend he could be her mate.

That he could change. Shifting must have eased her fear because her eyes were soft with

hope.

Was she crazy? How could she witness the violent freak at its worst and look at him

as if she still cared and saw the best in him?

“Don’t wish,” he said, hardening his voice. “And for God’s sake, don’t love me. I’m not

even capable of returning it.”

She flinched again but nodded. “Moonlight pack is my family and home. All I ask is

that you think of the pack before selling out.”

Irritation prickled his spine, but it felt nothing like what he’d experienced earlier. His

wolf’s instinct told him he’d never hurt her, but his logical mind wasn’t so sure.

“I
am
thinking of the pack.” He scooped up the raw egg and dumped it onto the