Shadow of the Summer Moon

by Amanda LeMay

  Derry nodded and disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Rule’s hunting party?” Neeta asked.

  “Maybe. If so, he’s one crazy SOB.” Gunner shook his head.

  Brenin looked up at me for the first time. “Rule would never give permission for this, would he? Killing livestock in our territory is an act of war.”

  The last thing I wanted to do was defend Rule. “It’s his style, setting his dogs loose on defenseless creatures for sport.” Angry tears burned my eyes.

  Gunner’s hand enveloped mine once again. “Doesn’t matter if he gave permission or not. If these wolves belong to his pack, he’s responsible for their actions.”

  With my throat too tight to speak, I nodded in agreement.

  “The list of charges against Rule is certainly adding up,” Neeta said with a sly smile.

  Seff came in through the swinging, bat-wing doors, a huge smile spread across his face.

  “Neeta, you just get prettier and prettier.”

  “Look at you! I have no doubt you’re making the females swoon with all that hair.”

  “Yeah, just a few.” He glanced at Derry. “And a few, not so much.”

  Gunner nodded to him. “Listen, Seff, the huntin’ party, you know their scent?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re coming along.”

  Gunner, Neeta, and Brenin all stood at the same moment.

  “Brenin,” Neeta said quietly as she touched his arm, “I don’t need to tell you how important it is that Simone stay safe.”

  “I understand.” Brenin accepted his assignment with grace. No argument. No look of resignation that he was left behind to babysit his father’s female.

  “I’d better pull on my big-girl boots since I’ll be trudging around in manure and blood.” Neeta grinned, then left the dining room.

  Her high heels clicked on the tiles. My heart dropped somewhere near my belly. Gunner’s bedroom was somewhere on the other side of the house. I listened for the sound of his bedroom door opening and closing, but instead Neeta’s heels headed away, upstairs, through the house.

  Where is her room?

  “All y’all better eat up.” Gunner pulled me up from my chair. “You’re gonna need it. Work out your shifts so the ranch is covered twenty-four-seven, and no solo perimeter runs.”

  “Yes, sir,” was mumbled all around the table before forks and knives went back into action.

  Gunner tugged at my hand, then led me through the living room, past the foyer, down the long hall leading to his bedroom, up four steps to a set of double doors, one of which he opened, pulled me through, and then swiftly closed behind me.

  “Gun...what?”

  He turned to face me. His always-intense green eyes burned with a wildness I’d never seen there before. I could hear his heartbeat accelerating, causing my own heart to match the pace. My entire body gave a sudden, involuntary shudder as Gunner’s heavy, smoky-leather-and-lemon scent seemed to pour out into the room.

  “Gun?”

  A growl rumbled up from somewhere deep inside of him.

  “I’m gonna take care of you.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  “WHAT?”

  “I’m gonna take care of you.”

  Gunner’s right arm went around my waist and pulled me into his body. I wrapped my arms around him, slid my hands up his back between his wide shoulders, bunched his shirt in my fingers, and held on.

  “Neeta was right. I need to put my mark on you so there’s absolutely no doubt where you belong.”

  “Rule burned his initial into my skin for the same reason.”

  “Not one wolf outside of Rule’s pack will ever recognize his brand as anything other than a...a...” Anger flashed over his face. Every muscle in his body grew tense as his Alpha power slammed into the room.

  If Gunner put a name to the brands on my body, he would be admitting the truth I already knew.

  I had no problem giving my brands a name. “Mutilation.”

  Gunner turned his face away and grimaced as if he were in pain.

  “Mutilation, Gun. It’s an ugly word, but it’s also the truth. It hurts you to even think it, but I’ve accepted it.”

  A deep sigh left his body as he turned to face me again. “You shouldn’t have to accept what that son of a bitch has done to you. You shouldn’t have to accept anything that someone forces on you against your will. Whether or not my mating mark is on your neck, your mark is on my heart, and that will never change.”

  “Are you asking my permission?”

  He gathered my long hair in his hand and gently tugged.

  “I am.”

  His mouth touched mine and, as his kisses never failed to do, a heated rush swept through me on the way to becoming a full-on fire. Our tongues glided, dancing to the rhythm set by our beating hearts. His right hand slid down and spread wide over the curve of my lower back, pressing me in closer, tighter, harder.

  “Say yes, Simone.”

  The solid length of his cock strained against my belly and, oh my, he was so large. I moaned into his mouth, trying to encourage him, trying to let him know I wanted more, needed more. I rubbed my body against his like a wolf in heat, and happily swallowed his groan.

  “Mate with me, Simone.”

  The second his canines lengthened, mine slid out to join the party. In the race to match each other’s movements, we nicked our tongues against sharp teeth. The flavor of our mingling blood only served to heighten every sense I possessed. Our labored breaths became a windstorm. Our own personal scents mixed in a perfect, mouthwatering balance. His mouth moved urgently over mine, kissing me deeply, drinking me in, as his soft goatee tickled my lips, chin, and cheeks.

  Almost there. Almost there. Just a little more.

  Don’t stop. Don’t stop.

  His lips left mine and I almost cried.

  “Please say yes.”

  “Yes.”

  His lips moved across my cheek and over the length of my neck. I tried to hold on to the fire he’d started. My skin tingled in anticipation, from my neck down to my toes.

  “Yes, Gun, yes!”

  His hand left my hair and moved down and around to slip inside the waistband of my pants, beneath my panties, and right between my legs. His fingers pressed and swirled.

  “Oh, Gun!”

  “Right here, baby?” His lips moved over the sensitive curve of my neck and shoulder as his fingers kept swirling.

  I whimpered. “Yes...”

  “Right now?”

  “Yes...yes...”

  His teeth clamped down on my body, pierced my skin, and something inside me seemed to snap into place.

  Something wild and jarring and explosive.

  Flames shot straight through my entire body as I teetered on the edge. I climaxed so hard, so violently, my knees buckled. Gunner cradled me in his arm. His fingers slipped inside me, worked to keep me at the peak until I slid down the other side.

  Gunner had marked me.

  Put his personal stamp on my body for the entire wolf world to see.

  I belonged to him.

  The part of me that was purely wolf ran in dizzying circles inside my head as I fought the strange urge to giggle and cry at the same time. I stood there trying to catch my breath, staring into the room and beyond the huge set of windows lining one wall. I saw...everything. Every color brighter, clearer, sharper. Details stood out like never before.

  Gunner lifted his head from my neck, a wild, intense look still in his eyes, but now he wore a satisfied smile. His tongue slipped out, licking away the blood that lingered at the corners of his mouth.

  He growled and nodded at where he had left his mark. “That looks so fucking good on you.”

  He shifted his hold on me, pulled his fingers out from inside me. I shivered as his hand slowly traveled up and out of my pants, straight into his mouth.

  I stood speechless as he moaned, his fingers disappearing again and again as he sucked and licked ever
y trace of me off his skin.

  “Never dreamed you’d taste so damn good.”

  He smiled, then his lips were on mine, soft and sweet and undemanding. His knuckles skimmed across my cheek. “You all right?”

  Uh...yeah. “I’m okay.”

  The words were automatic, but they’d never held so much truth before. Yes, some things in my life were still messed up—I still had issues to face—but all in all, I was much better off than when I’d first arrived in Comfort.

  Gunner’s face took on a strange, sad look. He didn’t believe me.

  “I’m more than okay,” I amended. “I’m fabulous.” I pressed my palms to his cheeks and brought his face down to mine. “You are amazing.” He smiled. His eyes twinkled as he pulled back and put a small space between us. He licked his lips again, then took a deep breath through his teeth, as if the taste of me, my blood, my wetness, lingered on his tongue like fine wine.

  My canines throbbed to do the same to him. “Is it...” My turn? Nervous, I scraped my teeth over my bottom lip. “Do I mark you now?”

  He shoved a hand through his hair then stared up at the ceiling, huffing in and out through his mouth.

  “Gun?”

  “Damn it.” He dropped his head and stood shaking it back and forth as he stared at the floor.

  “Did I do something?” Or not do something? I didn’t know the rules of this marking ceremony, or any ceremony for that matter.

  His eyes flashed up at me. “No, Simone, not you.”

  Did he regret marking me?

  His brows pinched together, his jaw clenching and unclenching, as if he were struggling with what he wanted to say. I didn’t push. He scrubbed a hand over his face and heaved out a breath.

  “It’s this kind of shit that’s so fucking frustrating.”

  This...what? Me? I was frustrating?

  I wanted to apologize, but I had no idea what I’d done to suddenly change his mood so drastically.

  “Gunner, I—”

  “No, Simone, don’t. It’s not you.” He shoved his hands onto his hips and glanced across the room, then back. “I’m tired of this. Tired of doing my duty. Tired of being on call. Tired of running this pack and not getting time to do what I want.” He closed the small distance between us. His arms wrapped around me, pressing every soft inch of me into every hard inch of him. “And what I want right now is to peel off your clothes, toss you on my bed, and make taking care of my sakana my one and only responsibility.”

  Thank the gods.

  Relief rushed through me on a slow sigh. I swallowed hard and wished he would do—could do—exactly what he said. But he wouldn’t. He was an Alpha, first and foremost.

  “We don’t have time. Not yet. Even though it just about kills me to say this, because I want you so damn bad, but, baby, the first time I make love to you is not gonna be some quick fuck.” His tongue touched my lips, traced a warm, wet path around my open mouth. “The first time I make love to you, there isn’t gonna be a time limit.” His lips moved across my cheek, to my neck. “There isn’t gonna be someone hanging out at the door, waitin’ for us to finish.” His teeth nipped at my mark, then his mouth moved back to my lips. “There isn’t gonna be one damn thing important enough to interrupt what we’ll be givin’ each other.”

  His lips sealed over my mouth as his tongue slipped in and tangled with mine. I clenched my hands, squeezing his perfectly muscular ass, and gasped as he groaned.

  “I want you so badly, too. And no, I don’t believe for a second that a quickie will satisfy either of us. At least, not the first time.”

  He growled against my lips. “So glad you agree.”

  His mouth pressed harder against mine, his tongue sweeping in deeper, to devour me even more thoroughly. If he kissed me much longer, I would go up in flames all over again.

  It wasn’t fair. Our entire relationship so far had been all about me. I wanted to give him something back.

  His mouth suddenly pulled away, leaving me breathless, wanting, needy. On the edge of almost there. Again.

  “Ah, baby, save that,” he murmured. “Save that for me.” His heavy breaths and racing pulse kept pace with mine. His lips touched mine softly once more before he stepped toward the door. My legs felt too wobbly to attempt taking a step in any direction.

  “Gun.” He turned to look at me. “Be careful.”

  A dangerous smile curved his mouth. His green eyes darkened and sparkled with deadly serious intent. “Nothin’s gonna keep me from comin’ home to you.”

  Then he was gone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  I STOOD ON WOBBLY LEGS, all fluttery inside.

  Smiling. Happy. On the edge of overwhelming giddiness.

  My shoulder tingled. My entire body trembled uncontrollably.

  Something amazing had happened to me.

  The strangest and most wonderful sense of completeness wrapped around me, flowed through me—changed me in some fundamental way.

  Reaching up, I massaged the smile-cramps in my cheeks with my fingers. I wasn’t sure how long I had been there, grinning like a lovesick female.

  Breathe. Breathe. Breathe.

  I sucked in one shuddering breath after another. Gunner’s deep, savory scent saturated his room, calming me, assuring me, making me feel safe.

  Protected. Cared for. Loved.

  I glanced around Gunner’s bedroom. A large, rock fireplace built just off center in the corner of the room split up the two sets of windows, one looking north and one to the east. The fireplace sat at an angle facing the bed instead of out into the room. A beautifully framed photograph of Gunner’s property hung above the mantle. I’d stood on the spot where the picture had been taken behind the stone cabin—the Guadalupe River, with its rocky shoreline and backdrop of trees in full fall color. Two leather wing-back chairs sat several feet from the foot of the bed, clustered by the fireplace with a small, round, dark wooden table between them. The large, round, leather ottoman situated between the chairs and the bed seemed to double as a table as well. I walked over and thumbed through the few books and magazines stacked on top—General Viticulture, A Wine Grower’s Guide, WineMaker Magazine, The Biology of the Grapevine—along with a spiral-bound notebook, a pen, and pages and pages of notes written in what had to be Gunner’s masculine hand.

  Gunner wasn’t kidding when he said he’d been thinking about growing wine grapes.

  The thick, beautifully patterned rug beneath my bare feet covered most of the hardwood floor. And the bed—an extra-long queen, and not the size I would’ve expected—lay in a darkly stained wooden frame with a somewhat plain headboard and footboard. It was covered with only a simple, dark chocolate suede-looking blanket tucked neatly around the entire mattress, with matching shams on the two large, fluffy pillows at the head of the bed. The entire room itself was not much larger than the bedroom I’d slept in the night before. With the massive size of the house, the room where I stood was not the master bedroom suite. It couldn’t be.

  Why wouldn’t he use the master bedroom?

  Neeta.

  Maybe he had shared the master bedroom with her and moved out to avoid the memories, whether pleasant or unpleasant.

  It doesn’t matter. Not now.

  The view outside his bedroom differed from the view in my room. A covered wooden deck extended several feet past one side of the room to end just beyond the other side. A small, rock fireplace sat at the left. Two weathered Adirondack chairs faced away from the room, along with a few other wooden chairs sitting up close to the fireplace. A beautiful, natural-looking pond, surrounded by large rocks and boulders, sat about forty yards away, but from the steam coming up from one end, the small waterfall that trickled out from nowhere, and the few lounge chairs sitting nearby, it had to be the pool and Jacuzzi Derry had told me about the day before.

  With my fingers, I gently traced the small indentations on my neck. Gunner had given me a choice. He’d asked my permission, but by the wild look in his eyes,
I’d known it was futile to refuse. Besides, deep down in my heart, I wanted his mark on me.

  “I’m gonna take care of you.”

  I ran my fingers over the marks on my neck once more.

  I wanted this, too. More than anything I’d ever wanted before.

  Gunner’s teeth had broken my skin, but there was no pain. The area didn’t even feel tender or bruised. There was only the strange, tingling sensation. I ran my tongue over the roof of my mouth, searching for the small cuts Gunner’s teeth had left. Nothing. I’d bled from them and now they seemed completely healed. Strange. I had never healed this quickly before.

  A loud rap pounded on the bedroom door. I recognized the scent: dark-roasted cinnamon and fresh-cut wood. Since arriving at Gunner’s house, the bombardment of multiple wolf scents had been overwhelming. Instead of focusing on each scent, I’d done what Derry claimed I’d learned from living in the city, I’d blocked them out. Blocking them had been a defense mechanism I no longer needed.

  Another sharp rap hit the door. “Simone?”

  I pulled the door open. Brenin stood waiting, his hands on his hips, head cocked to one side, his mouth set in a straight line. Dark gray eyes flashed from my face to the new mark his father had placed on me, and back again. His stern facial expression never changed.

  “I’ve got shit I need to take care of. I need you out here where I can see you.” His voice was flat with resignation.

  I nodded. He turned, walked away, and I followed.

  “I’m sorry you had to stay here and babysit me.”

  He stopped suddenly and turned to face me. “What?”

  “I mean, you would much rather be out hunting...or something. Anything other than—”

  He shook his head sharply. “No, I wouldn’t. Those wolves are nothing but hyenas. They killed cattle, for fuck’s sake! For fun. It wasn’t even for food. They’re lower than hyenas. They’re a bunch of cowardly, murdering SOBs.”

  “Yes, they are cowards. But you understand pack mentality. They get together and they believe they’re invincible. I don’t want your father, your mother, or you getting anywhere near them. The thought of any of you getting hurt because of me...”