by Beverly Rae
Romeo and Juliet never had to worry about being skinned alive.
Sydney Skeller’s father is spitting bullets over her reluctance to join the family business as a shifter hunter. The last thing Daddy needs to know is why—she yearns for a lover who’s man enough for a relationship but animal enough to give her the wild ride of her dreams. After a treadmill mishap lands her in a tangled heap with Jason Cannon, she wonders if she’s finally found her beast, er, man. One session in bed and one bite later, she’s sure. Now if only she can keep her father from mounting Jason’s head on a wall…
Jason is all man on the surface, but wolf shifter down to the bone. He’s more than ready to stop “playing the pack” and find his one true mate, and Sydney of the luscious curves is the woman of his dreams. Finding out that she comes from a family sworn to eradicate his kind isn’t a deal-breaker. But her outrageous plan for him to masquerade as the wolf in hunter’s clothing, right under her father’s very nose, could be asking more than he ever expected to give.
This book was previously published in ebook form only under the title Kissin’ in the Moonlight, and has been revised from its original release.
Warning: Readers, be aware of stranger side effects. These side effects may include but aren’t limited to the following: biting strangers, asking furry strangers to bite you, purposely falling off treadmills to collide with handsome strangers, enjoying hot sex with wild strangers, and baying at the moon to meet other moon-influenced strangers. If you notice any of these side effects, contact the author immediately. You may be the heroine of her next book!
eBooks are not transferable.
They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Samhain Publishing, Ltd.
577 Mulberry Street, Suite 1520
Macon GA 31201
Howling for My Baby
Copyright © 2009 by Beverly Rae
ISBN: 978-1-60504-484-2
Edited by Deborah Nemeth
Cover by Angela Waters
All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
First Samhain Publishing, Ltd. electronic publication: April 2009
www.samhainpublishing.com
Howling for My Baby
Beverly Rae
Dedication
To my special “animal” of a husband,
who always supports me no matter how “wild” life gets.
Chapter One
I can’t believe I’m really going through with this.
Sydney steered her car down the tree-lined suburban street as shadows from the waning June sun cast shadows over the yards. “This should be the right street.” She glanced at her best friend, Charlotte “Charlie” Matland, who was sitting in the passenger’s seat. “I hope this medium’s a miracle worker. Finding me a good man—forget about perfect—will be next to impossible.”
“You nailed that dead-on, girlfriend.”
Syd groaned. “I’d love to nail something, but my love life dried up about eighteen months ago.”
“You’re preaching to the choir, Sister Sydney.” Charlie laughed and tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder.
“Yeah, right. Like you ever have problems catching a mate.”
Charlie sent her a curious look. “A ‘mate’?”
Shit, shit, shit. “You know what I mean. A man.” Her nightly dreams of a werewolf with midnight-black fur and a white streak running along his head had grown more vivid since they’d started during puberty. When the wolf changed into a man—a—gloriously handsome, lick-me-and-make-me-come man—they’d taken on a whole new intensity, clarity and—holy crud!—sexuality. She often bolted awake in the middle of the night, trembling, not from fright, but shaken by desire and drenched in sweat. Her heart raced and she found it difficult to catch her breath even after the dark tempting eyes transforming into mesmerizing amber ones had dissipated from her mind.
“You’re thinking about those dreams again, aren’t you? The ones with your shifter hottie?”
Shifter hottie. Omigod, if she only knew the half of it. Syd tried to avert her face—not that she’d ever had a chance of escaping her friend’s sharp eyes.
“Wow.” Charlie gave a low whistle. “I don’t even remember my dreams, while yours keep getting better and better.”
“Better?” Syd frowned at her choice of words. “I’m not so sure. To me the dreams are like these extra twenty pounds I’m hauling around. I don’t want them, but no matter what I do, I can’t get rid of them.” And I do want to get rid of the dreams, right? The pounds? Of course. But the dreams? She bit her lip. No, she wasn’t sure she wanted to make the dreams go away.
“You’re biting your lip.”
Shit. Why did she have to have that telltale habit? She leaned toward Charlie to see out the passenger side of the car. “Is this the correct address? Can you see the house number?”
“Hang on and give me a sec.” Charlie held the paper with the scribbled address closer to the car’s dome light. “This is frickin’ amazing. We’re out in the middle of the suburbs, searching for some psychic because the resident nutcase at our gym says the medium told her who—or should I say what—her new hubby would be. Can you say, dumb ass broads?”
“Hey, she may dress like a clown, but she swears this medium told her about her future husband. She met him after seeing this Madame Medusala person and she’s been prancing around, lording her newly wedded money over everyone ever since. She’s happy and you can’t argue with them facts, bucko.”
Charlie pffed in exasperation. “Ri-ight. These charlatans are always telling some poor woman about the tall, dark, handsome man in her future. For the right amount of green, of course.” She sighed. “Still, it’s not like we take any of this seriously.” Suddenly, her friend twisted sideways to study her. “Don’t tell me you believe in all this hocus-pocus garbage.” Her perusal grew in intensity. “Omigod. You do. You believe in shifters and psychics and all this junk.” Her mouth dropped open. “Seriously. You do, don’t you?”
“Maybe.” Of course, I do. You can’t grow up in my family and not believe. You have to believe in werewolves when your dad’s a hunter. A hunter who wants his only child to join the family business. But she didn’t have the nerve to admit it in such finite terms to her friend. Not yet. Few humans aside from hunters knew about shifters, and she didn’t want Charlie to go into deep denial or grow paranoid, afraid to venture outside.
Although Charlie’s skepticism usually bothered her, her friend’s disbelief could be right on track this time. At least about the validity of the psychic. Still…she had to find out for herself. She pulled the car to the curb and stared at the small house.
“Wow.” Charlie gazed out the window. “Wow.”
“Will you stop saying ‘wow’ so much?” How about being a supportive and silent friend? But Syd couldn’t get the words out of her mouth. “Did you look at the address?” Get back on track, Charlie, before I chicken out.
“Yeah. This is it.” Charlie lifted an eyebrow at her. “A medium lives here? No way.”
The brightly lit, pristine house sat at the end of the quiet block surrounded by a freshly landscaped yard. Pink roses trailed along the white rail of the front porch and flowerboxes filled with petunias of various colors decorated lace-curtained window
s. A blue birdhouse swayed in the breeze at the edge of the porch while a wind chime danced in the wind below it. Fanciful red ladybugs painted on the porch steps marched along the flooring to lead visitors to the front door.
Charlie followed Syd’s lead and got out of the car. Together they stood at the end of the driveway and studied the quaint cottage.
“Syd, this can’t be the place. I mean, this looks like the storybook suburban home with two-point-five kids and a dog named Spot. Hell, I expect June Cleaver to waltz outside with a plate of cookies in hand and call the Beav.”
“Are you through now?” Syd took the paper from Charlie’s hand and verified the address again. “203 Maple Drive. Sheesh, even the address sounds like something out of a fifties sitcom.” She cocked her head to read the numbers on the curb. “Believe it or not, this is it.”
But Charlie wasn’t ready to trust her eyes. “Are you sure you didn’t perm your curly hair once too often? This place doesn’t exactly scream psychic lives here, ya know. Where’s all the signs for readings and stuff? Where’s the big spooky eye on the side of the house?”
Hoping she hadn’t made a mistake in bringing her friend along, Syd shrugged and started through the picket gate. “Well, there’s one way to find out for sure. Let’s do this before it gets too late. When I phoned earlier, Madame Medusala said she could squeeze us in tonight, but only if we hurried.”
Charlie glanced around the empty yard. “Yeah, she’s got a mob waiting for her services. Not.”
Syd shrugged off the comment and strode to the front door with a grumbling Charlie bringing up the caboose—a very loud and complaining caboose.
“Okay, I want to make it crystal clear. I’m only doing this to lend moral support. I know you’ve had your heart set on the mysterious man in your dreams—not that I believe in such things—and I want you to be happy. Besides, I’m gonna make damn sure you aren’t going to get scammed.”
“I know, Charlie. You told me a million times on the way over here. Now hush and be nice.”
Taking a deep breath, Syd pushed the doorbell decorated with hand-painted daisies and waited. When nothing happened for several minutes, she pushed it again.
“Maybe Madame Medusala went to visit someone.” Charlie pointed toward the sky. “Like her three-headed green friends on Mars.”
“Ha, ha. Were you a comedian in a previous life?” She stomped down the irritation tightening her gut. Or was it nerves? “I’m not giving up yet. Maybe she didn’t hear the bell.” Fisting her hand, she pounded five times on the flower-embossed door.
After the fifth time, the door flung open, revealing a towering woman in a full-length red silk gown. Glittering rubies adorned her ears and throat while a tiara sparkled in the swirls of her black hair.
“Hey, hey, hey. What’s all the tizzy about, ladies?” The hair piled high on her head shook along with the finger she brandished at the women. “Didn’t your mammas ever teach you patience?” Yet her quick chuckle lessened the harshness of her words.
Syd ran her gaze up and down the full-figured form squeezed into the made-for-a-size-twelve-not-twenty dress. “I’m Sydney Skeller.” She paused for a response, but got none. “Uh…I called earlier?” Noting the heavily made-up face with its silver eye shadow and apple-red lips, she hurriedly added, “But if you have plans to go out, we can reschedule.”
Eyebrows arched over brilliant turquoise eyes. The woman skimmed her hands down the sides of her body. “What? You think I’m going out because I’m wearing this old thing? Don’t be silly. I wear this little number around the house all the time. Like my mamma always said, ‘A lady should dress to impress, even when relaxing at home. You never know when a gentleman caller might arrive on your doorstep.’” She fluttered her fake eyelashes and added, “Or lovely new acquaintances. Hel-lo, ladies. I’m Madame Medusala. Welcome to my humble abode.”
“Are you for real?”
Syd widened her eyes at Charlie. Yeah, good one, Char. Don’t worry about tact. Say what’s on your mind.
Madame Medusala’s boisterous laugh broke through Syd’s embarrassment. Clasping her palms together, she hugged her hands to her enormous bosom. “Oh, but aren’t you the truthful one. I do adore a girl who speaks her mind. Please, come inside.”
The ladies followed the woman into the home, stopping to huddle together in the small foyer. More flowers, potted plants and a variety of vines lined the walls around them, nearly obscuring the butterfly-covered wallpaper.
“Wow.” Charlie rotated in a circle, taking in the vegetation surrounding them. “You’re into nature big time, aren’t you?”
Medusala slipped an arm around Charlie’s waist and tugged the girl to her side. “Honey, I love all living things, including plants, animals and, especially, women and men of every possible persuasion. Most specifically, women like you.”
Charlie’s forced smile faded in the instant before she turned to send Syd a beseeching face. “W-what was it we planned on doing here, Syd? I forget.”
Talk about a cry for help. Syd kept a titter from slipping through her lips by concentrating on maintaining a serious expression. “Right. We want you to give us readings. You know, like you did for, uh…” Oh, crap, I forgot the nutcase’s name.
“For the lady with the fantastic red hair and awesome style? Do you two go to the same gym?”
Syd froze, barely managing to sputter out a retort at Medusala’s idea of “awesome style”. “Uh, yeah.” If that walking eyesore of a woman’s bottle-red hair and outrageously loud clothes didn’t make a person want to hurl her breakfast, her cackle of a laugh would. “That’s the one.”
“Ah, I figured. I’ve had several people call me because of her. Who knew she’d be such a fountain of referrals?”
“Yeah, who knew?” Charlie chuckled along with Medusala. “Then you know why we’re here. We’re hoping you’ll read for us and tell us what hunky sh—uh, men are in our futures. You’re like a cosmic matchmaker, correct?”
Another earsplitting laugh burst from Medusala and she hugged Charlie close to her solid form. Charlie let out a squeal, an expression of desperation twisting her features as Medusala pushed the poor girl’s face against her gargantuan breasts.
“Oh, no, sweetie-pie. I’m not a matchmaker, cosmic or otherwise. I tell people what may happen in their lives. Which doesn’t always include a man, mind you. Believe me, I know men like you wouldn’t believe. But telling you which one’s for you? That may not necessarily happen.” She stopped and studied them.
“But you told the lady—” Charlie’s pout went unnoticed by the medium.
“Look, honey, when you called and said you wanted help, I assumed you meant a reading. You know what I mean. I tell you about your future, your job, your family, long trips, and maybe your love life. But not all my readings result in finding a man. If they did, I’d have two lines going outside my door—one leading into my home and one running straight out again all the way to the wedding chapels in Vegas. Do you think if I saw a man in everyone’s future, I’d be standing here yakking with you instead of in bed with my own little love bunny?”
With a mighty heave, Charlie wrenched away from the oversized psychic and rushed to stand behind Syd. Syd, however, was more concerned with finding out if the woman would read for them than in protecting her friend. “But sometimes you do see love in a person’s future? Maybe even a different kind of love?”
Medusala narrowed her eyes at her. “Different how?”
“Different as in living outside mainstream society. Way outside. Different as in a man who can change his appearance. Different as in supernatural. Different as in having his own built-in fur coat. Very different.” Syd crossed her arms in front of her, daring Medusala to laugh at her.
“Are you ladies pulling my leg?”
Syd glanced at the outline of Madame Medusala’s legs in the skin-tight dress and inwardly shuddered. Me pull her leg? Yeah, like I could lift that tree trunk. “Nope. No leg-pulling here. At least not
by us. We heard you told the lady—the redhead at the gym—that her future hubby was a shifter. That kind of different.” She shot a glance at Charlie, silently warning her not to scoff.
But Charlie smirked anyway and added, “Syd, too, has her heart set on a werewolf.”
“Oh, my.” Medusala raked her stunned gaze from Charlie to her. “She told you that?” At their nods, she blew out a puff of air. “And you believe what she said about him?”
“Don’t you mean what you told her about him?” Had the redhead made up the part about her man being a werewolf? If so…why? Had her plan just turned into a wild shifter chase?
Medusala’s jaw set. “Like I told all the rest of them, I’m denying I ever said anything about his being a…well, you know what. Nonetheless, referrals are the backbone of my business.”
“A werewolf. You said her future hubby was a werewolf.” Charlie wouldn’t let the psychic off the hook, ramming her words home with her sarcastic tone. “It’s all over the gym. Stop denying you told her.”
Syd joined Charlie in nodding, backing up her statement. What were they, anyway? A couple of bobbleheads?
“Well, I’ll be. You are a pushy one, aren’t you?” Madame Medusala’s demeanor lightened a little. “Aren’t you lucky I like pushy broads.” She tugged on her dress, keeping her ham-hock thighs under wraps. “I admit her reading was, shall we say, out of the normal, but I didn’t think she actually believed me. And I certainly didn’t think she’d go spreading it around. So she found him? And you believe he is what she says he is?”
“Apparently one of us does.” Charlie’s gaze shifted to Syd before resting on Medusala again.
The large woman studied them a moment longer. “Truthfully, I thought I’d gotten my wires crossed when I saw what I saw. But I had an obligation to tell her the truth. Don’t you agree?”
“Of course. So? Can you read for us?” Ready or not, the time is now.