Moon Chosen #1 (BBW Werewolf Shifter Romance)

by Mac Flynn

I had a wonderful dream. I dreamed I found my soul mate, my husband, my lover, and we made love far into the night. It was a lustful, wild love that left us worn and weary, but content. I snuggled hard against his chest and he bolted upright.

  I fell face-first into a hard mattress. The crash awoke me and my eyes fluttered open. I looked up and saw I was in a strange bedroom with a strange, naked man. The memories rushed back to me. The kidnapping, the Choosing, the loving. I blushed and covered my nude form. The skylight overhead told me a new day was just beginning, but my mind was stuck in the past.

  I tried to make sense of what had happened, and how we'd reached the point that brought us to this morning wake-up. Maybe it'd been his alluring eyes, his tempting touches, his sweet, passionate words. They were all muddied together in a lust-filled haze. However, one thing stood out. His scent. That had been what broke my resolve.

  I clutched my head and grimaced. My body ached like I'd gone on a drinking binge that involved taking a beer bath. "What the hell happened last night?" I questioned the man beside me.

  He flung off the sheets and stepped out of bed. I couldn't help but admire his muscular physique as he walked over to a nearby dresser and pulled a new set of clothes from the drawers. I frowned and sat up. Maybe the sex had made him hard of hearing, so I raised my voice. "What the hell happened?"

  "I heard you the first time," he retorted as he began to dress himself.

  "Then answer me. What the hell was that last night?" I demanded to know.

  Greenwood flung on his clothes and stalked over to the buffet. He poured himself another drink and I cringed when he downed the contents. It was too early to think about drinking, much less do it.

  He set the empty glass on the top of the buffet and placed both hands on either side of the glass. His back was turned to me, and he was slightly hunched over. He hung his head between his arms. "It was the blood."

  I frowned. "That stuff I drank last night? What was in it, an aphrodisiac?"

  He straightened and half-turned to me. "In essence, yes. To be near one's mate, particularly at night and most especially on a moonlit one, is to provoke the werewolf blood. It craves a sexual union with its chosen partner, and nothing else short of satisfaction will appease it."

  I tilted my head to one side and my eyebrows crashed down. "You really believe all this werewolf bullshit, don't you?"

  A bitter smile slipped onto his lips. "I believe it because I live it, and at this time so do you."

  I snorted. "Like hell I do. I'm a normal, sane human being, and this sane person would like to get into some clothes and get the hell out of here."

  He turned to the buffet and rang a chord that hung from the ceiling. In a few moments there came a knock on the door and it opened just slightly. A short, balding man of about fifty entered. He had wide, alert eyes and a quick way of moving that belied his old age. The man moved to stand in front of Greenwood and bowed.

  "You ran, Master?" he asked of the young man.

  Greenwood gestured to me. "Get this young woman some clothes and give her some food."

  "Master, I have been ordered by your father to bring you both to breakfast with Lady Greenwood and himself," the man informed Greenwood.

  Greenwood frowned. "Tell my father he will have to be disappointed. I have pressing business to attend to that he has created, and can't attend to his shallow wants."

  The servant's eyes widened and his face fell. "But Master, he has commanded-"

  Greenwood strode past him and to the open door. "My father's commands are nothing to me so long as he interferes in my life. You may tell him that."

  The servant gestured to me. "And the lady?"

  Greenwood followed the hand of the servant and his gaze fell on me. He pursed his lips and turned away. "Take her to my father. He wished for her so badly, he may deal with her."

  I didn't have any romantic thoughts towards him, nor even much attachment, but his words struck my heart with a poison-laden arrow. I cringed and sank into the covers. His eyes flickered to me, and for a moment I thought I saw regret. That moment was fleeting, though, and he slipped from the room. The sound of his footsteps retreated down the hall and soon faded away.

  The servant's eyes lay on the closed door and he shook his head. "You would never know he was a happy child from his disposition now." He turned to me and brightened his face with a smile. The man walked up to the bed and bowed his head in front of me. "But where are my manners? My name is George Gregory. It is a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Greenwood."

  I wrinkled my nose. "'Mrs. Greenwood?'" I repeated.

  He smiled and nodded. "Yes. As the mate to the only son of Lord Greenwood, that makes you Mrs. Greenwood."

  "I'm not 'misses' anybody. I'm plain old Sophia," I insisted.

  "You would prefer I call you Sophia?" he suggested.

  "I would prefer you get me some clothes and show me to the nearest boat," I quipped.

  "I'm afraid I can only do the latter, and not the former," he replied.

  "Then you can get me some clothes and show me the way out of this rat maze."

  "The second part also isn't possible."

  I threw up my hands. "And now you're going to tell me you're a werewolf, too?" I guessed.

  "If I said otherwise I would be lying," he told me.

  I rolled my eyes. "Is anyone sane around here?" I questioned him.

  His eyes scrutinized me and he raised an eyebrow. "Pardon my bluntness, but you seem to doubt what I am, and what you have become."

  "I haven't become anything. I'm still the same old me," I argued.

  He closed his eyes and gave a nod. "True enough. You are as you were before, but now you are something more."

  "That's it!" I wrapped the blankets around myself and stepped out of bed. The sheets dragged behind me like a wedding dress train. I passed the strange little man and marched over to the dresser. Each of my statements was punctuated by my slamming an article of necessary clothing on the top of the dresser. "I've had enough of everyone blabbering on about being a werewolf, or this Choosing bullshit, or kidnapping is good for you because it builds character." I spun around and shook a shirt at the little man. "There are no such things as-" My eyes fell on the servant and the last word died in my throat.

  The man stood where I left him, but he had changed. His clothes were torn from his legs and arms by a thick mess of wolf fur. The fuzz covered his limbs and chest, and ringed his clean-shaven face. Long fur trailed down his back like a mane, and tall, pointed ears stuck up from the fur on the top of his head. His eyes were a brilliant yellow, and his teeth were sharpened to points.

  "You were saying?" he asked me.

  I stumbled back into the dresser. "W-w-"

  "Yes, I am a werewolf," he finished for me.

  My hands gripped the edge of one of the dresser drawers. "H-how? What? When?"

  "It is rather a long story, and one best told after the shock has worn off," he advised me.

  "T-then Greenwood-me-everyone?" I stammered.

  He nodded his head. "Yes, everyone here is a werewolf. No humans are allowed on the islands save for those women who are brought to be made brides."

  I looked down at the floor and ran a shaking hand through my hair. Last night, when he'd changed. That hadn't been some reaction to an aphrodisiac.

  "My god. . ." I muttered.

  The servant reverted back to his human form. It was like watching someone shrink into their own body and get a haircut at the same time. His tattered clothes hung loose on his form, but he stood as dignified as ever. "It is best to help one's self around here. There are more dangers in these halls than in all the woods combined," he warned me.

  I held a hand out in front of me and stared at the palm. It looked so human, so much the same as yesterday. I couldn't wrap my mind around what this werewolf was trying to tell me. It was all so fantastical. A nightmare and fantasy dream r
olled into one. "So I'm. . .I'm a-I'm really a werewolf?" I asked him.

  He pursed his lips and bowed his head. "Against your will, you are."

  His words provoked me. I ground my teeth together and balled my hand into a fist. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I sprang into action. I flew at the werewolf and pounded my fists into his bare chest.

  "How could you? How could you do this to me?" I shrieked. A sob escaped my throat and my pounding grew weaker. Gregory grabbed my shoulders as I fell into him. I leaned my forehead against his chest and tears streamed down my cheeks. "Why? Why?" I sobbed.

  "The words 'fate' or 'destiny' hardly seem like an explanation, don't they?" he mused. I shut my eyes and shook my head. He sighed. "Then I can only say something has led you here, and I am at your disposal." I pushed away from him and he let his hands slide off me. He reached into his torn pants and pulled out a handkerchief. "Though I hope it won't be to forever dry your tears. You would please Master Greenwood more if you would smile."

  I snorted and took the handkerchief, then snorted some more. "I don't care about pleasing him. I just want to get out of here." My stomach interrupted us with a loud, terrible rumble.

  He chuckled. "Might I suggest that if you wish to look for an escape, it would be best to do it on a full stomach?"

  I handed back his handkerchief and nodded. "I guess that makes sense."

  "Very well. Follow me."

  He turned, but I held my hand out to him. "Wait." He half-turned back to me. "What was your name again?"

  "George Gregory, but you may call me anything you wish. You are my mistress now, after all," he told me.

  I let a half-smile slip onto my lips. "Then how about Greg?"

  He smiled and bowed his head. "I will accept that. And what do you wish for me to call you?"

  "I'd like you to call me a taxi, but there aren't many around here, are there?"

  "None, I'm afraid."

  "Then you can call me Sophie."

  His eyes swept over me and his smile widened. "I believe it will be a pleasure to serve you, Sophie."

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

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