Shadow of the Moon #1 (Werewolf Shifter Romance)

by Mac Flynn

I walked down the long white halls of the hospital and out into the darkening day. The setting sun in the west warned me I had a half hour to get home. Unfortunately, I didn't have my car. Randy hadn't managed to sneak that into the room.

  "Damn it. . ." I muttered.

  My salvation was a bus stop by the hospital, and in a short time I found myself seated in a grimy, uncomfortable long leather seat. The bus bumped along the roads towards my destination, or close to it. The hospital was in a swanky part of town, but my apartment building wasn't, which meant I had to make a connection ride to get home.

  I leaned my forehead against the window and sighed. My mind and body were still a little tired after my long nap at the hospital. I reached up and touched my neck. The soreness had all but vanished. I felt the soft, low ridge of the scar.

  The hairs on the back of my head stood on end. I looked to my left across the aisle and caught an old woman staring at me. She turned away and stared intently at her window. I pulled my shirt collar higher to hide the scar. I hated to wear turtlenecks, but my scar was pretty noticeable. It looked like I'd tried to commit suicide with a chainsaw.

  The bus came to my stop and I hopped off. The sun was just about gone and stars twinkled in the eastern sky. I looked up at those shining gas orbs and frowned. A strange pulling sensation swept through me. I felt like I had to be somewhere else, like I was late on an important dinner date with a friend I hadn't seen in years.

  I squashed the feeling. It didn't make any sense. Nobody waited for me at a restaurant, or even at home. I lived alone in my dinky, squalid little apartment.

  The next bus arrived and I hopped on. A few stops later was mine. I stepped off and looked up. Before me loomed an ancient brick apartment building. Its stoop steps were worn down from years of countless feet. The glass windows were foggy from all the smog. Drab curtains concealed most of the rooms from prying eyes, mostly thieves who wanted to case the lower rooms. That's why I had a third-floor apartment. The only way was up a rickety old fire escape that had a landing at my bedroom window. A murder would have had to be suicidal to be that homicidal and risk those old, swaying metal stairs.

  The hour was late when I walked through the faded lobby and up the stairs to the fourth floor. There wasn't an elevator. My weariness from earlier returned in full force as I shuffled down the hallway to my corner apartment. It paid to pay a little extra. One less neighbor to keep me awake.

  I unlocked the door, slipped into my apartment and closed the door behind me. I flicked on the lights and tossed my purse on the table near the door.

  "Good evening."

  I started and pulled out my gun. A light was flicked on and revealed a tall, handsome man in a long black overcoat. He sat in my old chair and held a glass of wine in his hand. I neither owned wine nor that type of glass. He sat with one leg crossed over the other. His golden autumn eyes looked me over with appreciation.

  "You're even more beautiful in the light and some decent clothes," he commented.

  "Who are you? How'd you get in here?"

  The man chuckled and swished the contents of his wine glass. "All good questions, and ones I'd expect from a police officer."

  "I asked you some questions. Start talking or my gun will do the talking," I demanded.

  "No need for violence." He gestured to one of my kitchen chairs that sat opposite him. "Please, have a seat. What I'm going to tell you may seem-well, a little fantastical."

  "I'm fine standing, thanks, now just get to the talking," I snapped.

  He sighed. "Very well. You asked my name and how I got in here. My name I will give as Shadow. As for how I got in-" he nodded to a window behind him, "I climbed through that window."

  I frowned. "There's no fire escape out there."

  "I know. It wasn't too easy. I must be out of shape."

  I snorted. "You're not seriously trying to tell me you climbed up a brick wall to get in here with that glass and wine, are you?"

  "I'm telling you exactly that, though I see you don't believe me," he mused. He shrugged and set the wine glass on the end table by his chair. "I suppose that's understandable, but maybe some proof will make you the wiser." He stood and shed his dark overcoat to reveal a white buttoned shirt with elegant black pants and matching shoes.

  I tensed and cocked the gun hammer back. "Stay where you are!"

  He opened his arms and smiled at me. His tone added a calm, soothing ring to his words. "Will you really shoot me?"

  I felt a faintness that tried to rob me of my clear thinking, but I had my gun to focus on and I kept that pointed at my 'guest.' "I will if I have to," I insisted.

  "I don't think you will. No, I actually think you'll give me the gun." He took a few slow steps towards me.

  "Stay there! I'll shoot!" I warned him.

  He didn't stop his slow procession towards me. "Will you? Try it then. I dare you," he taunted me.

  I aimed the barrel at his chest. He was larger than me and a hit to the limbs might not have slowed him. I took aim. My finger pressed against the trigger. I told it to pull back, but it wouldn't obey. My hand shook as I struggled with myself to shoot the damn gun. Perspiration ran down my forehead and I grit my teeth. The man came closer until he stood only two feet away.

  He stretched out his hand to me. "Now give me the gun." My eyes widened as I loosened my grip on the gun and turned it around so the butt faced him. He took the weapon and tossed it onto his coat. "There, now we can talk like civilized people."

  I took a shaky step back. My instincts told me there was something very wrong with this guy. Something not natural. I jumped when my back hit the door. An escape, but one I couldn't risk. Not with him in front of me. He closed the gap between us and set his hands on either side of my head. His golden eyes swept over me and his smile widened. "I don't think enough people have told you how beautiful you are, have they."

  A warmth swept through my body and tingled my quivering flesh. The heat pooled between my legs and I ground my teeth together to stifle a groan. "Whatever. . .whatever you're going to do to me. . .do it and. . .and get it over with," I panted.

  He chuckled. "It's not going to be as unpleasant as that. I think you're enjoying it right now, or would be if you weren't fighting me."

  "I'll. . .I'll fight you all the way," I insisted.

  He closed the gap between us and his lips brushed against my cheek. One of his hands slid down and cupped one of my breasts. I shuddered as he massaged my mound of flesh, but I was aggravated by the clothing that got in the way of his skin against mine. His other hand unbuttoned my shirt and opened it to reveal my pert, swollen breasts.

  His whispering voice sent shivers down my body. "See? You're enjoying it."

  I leaned back my head and bit my lip. "What. . .what are you doing to me?" I gasped.

  He planted soft kisses down my cheek and neck. "I'm finishing what we started in that alley."

  My mind flew back to the few nights ago. He was one of the fighters, that person who murdered that other man and then bit me. I tried to struggle, to cry out to my fellow renters, but my voice wouldn't obey. My whole being was focused on what he was doing to my body, my mind, my soul, and it was liking what it was feeling.

  He pressed his body against mine and I could feel his throbbing need in his pants. "Relax. You're too tense," he scolded me.

  "I. . .I don't want this," I panted.

  He chuckled. "I thought police were always supposed to tell the truth."

  The man swept me into his arms and carried me into my bedroom. He set me on the covers and unbuttoned his shirt. I watched him like one mesmerized. My body was one fire with an unbearable heat. It consumed my thoughts and filled me with a passion that demanded to be quenched.

  He tossed aside his shirt and lay atop half of me. His left hand slid up my pants leg and I felt the fabric slice open beneath his hand. My leg and half my underwear was bared
to the dark room. His hand toyed with the plastic band a moment before his fingers slipped inside. I gasped and gripped the covers when I felt his fingers coast across my wet, hot folds. My heart beat like a quick drum and I panted.

  One of his fingers slid between my folds and stroked my sensitive clit. I bit my lip, but pressed myself into his touch.

  His voice was now more growl than human. The sound made me tremble in anticipation. "I want to hear you."

  His words filled my being with such lust and longing that I let out a loud, deep moan. My body erupted into a fire of desire that could only be quenched by his voice, his touch, and his taking of me. I squirmed beneath him. The fires were too hot for me. I needed satisfaction.

  "Please," I groaned.

  He raised himself onto his arms and I saw lust in his own golden eyes. His voice was strained, tense. He desired me as much as I desired him. "Please what?"

  "Please take me. Make me yours," I pleaded.

  His grin widened and changed to something more feral, more animal, more seductive. In a flash he tore away his pants and what remained of my clothes. He spread his warm, strong naked body over mine. His pulsing manhood slid into my wet opening. He stretched and filled me with himself, and I'd never felt so complete. He stopped at half his length and shuddered.

  "So. . .tight," he gasped.

  "Oh god," I groaned.

  He made slow love to me. Each penetration was a labor of love that slid smoothly against my clit. Shivers of delight raced through me. I gripped his back and reveled in the feel of our joined bodies, our lustful union that evoked such delicious results.

  Our groans and grunts filled the air. The minutes flew by in a haze of sensual pleasure. Our sweat-soaked bodies slid against each other. Our muscles tightened, relaxed, and tightened again. Each stroke brought more fire, more lust, more desire. It was never quenched. These new feelings of lust was like a monster that lingered inside me. It ached for a release only he could provide.

  "Yes. Oh god, yes," I moaned.

  He grunted and thrust faster. The increased friction heightened the terrible, untamed ache inside me. We reverted to animals. Gone was the gentle lovemaking, and in its place was an insatiable desire to rut. Our pants and grunts grew louder and louder. I clung to him and dug my fingers into his back. My body quivered as hints of orgasm washed over it. Just a little more. So close.

  I leaned back my head and arched my back into him. "Yes! Yes! YES!" I chanted.

  My body exploded with pleasure. It swept away everything but the feel of him thrusting inside me, pushing me on to greater heights. My white-hot lust consumed me.

  The exertion left me satisfied, but exhausted, mentally and physically. He finished inside me and held himself up on his arms to keep from crushing me. We panted together for a few moments before he grinned down at me and brushed aside a few of my wet locks of hair from my face.

  "Beautiful," he purred.

  "What. . .what was that?" I gasped. It was difficult to keep my eyes open.

  "Feral lust. I've waited far too many days to take you." His shining eyes looked over my face as he brushed my cheek with the back of one of his hands. "It seems you've quite bewitched me. I've never had such lust for one of my own before."

  "An. . .an aphrodisiac?" I murmured. My mind couldn't fight against the coming sleep my body so demanded.

  He chuckled and slid off me. "Not quite, but rest. I have a feeling we'll be doing much the same for a great many nights."

  I unwillingly closed my eyes and drifted into sleep.

  For all books by Mac Flynn visit her author's page

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