Under a Darkened Moon

by Jane Hinchey

  Table of Contents

  Back of book stuff

  Introduction

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Also by Jane Hinchey

  Under a Darkened Moon

  Book Three - Hearts on Fire Series

  Jane Hinchey

  Contents

  Introduction

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  About the Author

  Back of book stuff

  Also by Jane Hinchey

  Under A Darkened Moon © 2018 Jane Hinchey

  This work is copyright. Apart from any use permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor to be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  Created with Vellum

  Introduction

  She’s a wolf on the run.

  Kasie is being haunted and hunted by her past. A chance meeting with hot wolf Rhys leads to long steamy nights in his bed, and just when he starts to think they may have a future together, she runs.

  Disappearing into the night without a trace, Kasie ignores the undeniable connection she felt with Rhys. She can’t be with him, it will only bring trouble to his door, and she refuses to have that on her conscience. Until her desperate flight is halted when she crashes her car and who should rescue her? Rhys. Now she’s stuck. No car, no cash, and one sexy wolf demanding answers.

  Rhys faces his own challenges, with the memories of their stolen nights burned in his mind how can he convince Kasie she’s safe with him when she won’t even tell him what she’s running from? All he knows is she’s haunted by nightmares and cries another man’s name in her sleep.

  Can they face the threat that is coming together? Or will their world go up in flames?

  Acknowledgments

  Rhys has been bugging me to write this book for a long time, ever since he first appeared in the Awakening Series! I finally gave in. But writing a story is only one part of the journey. There are many people to thank and I’m incredibly grateful for each and every one of them.

  Amy Allen for your incredible editing talents and making me a better writer than I am. Thank you.

  Melody Simmons your cover is amazing – thank you.

  To my reader's group, Jane’s Little Devils, you guys continue to blow me away. A special shout out to Nicole Henderson, Jessica Earle, Paula Raphael, and Candace Bayley Cox – thank you for naming my towns and cities in this story. My editor is also appreciative that we changed my imaginative placeholders of XXX.

  And my family…thank you for believing in me. I know you don’t read my books, because, you know, sex, but I’m going to keep on thanking you anyway. I love you guys.

  And for my readers…I do this for you.

  1

  She was a vision, no two ways about it—standing at the bar, her back to him, her long white dress dipping so low on her back that he wondered if she wore underwear. One small tug would tell. The dress was held in place by three horizontal straps across the smooth skin of her back, leaving her shoulders bare; his fingers itched to reach out and touch that sun-kissed skin, to know the texture of it. Her hair, the color of sand, was pinned in a messy knot on top of her head, a few silken strands escaping to brush against her shoulders. The punch of desire hit him low in the gut, lighting an inferno that spread through him like wildfire.

  As he drew closer, her scent reached him, a heady combination of honeysuckle and musk. He stopped a few feet from her and simply breathed her in. The wolf inside him growled. Mine.

  As if sensing him behind her, she turned, leaning back against the bar. She took a swig of her beer, gray eyes studying him. She had a leather thong wrapped around her neck, a silver cross dangling from it, and a flower in her hair. His desire cranked up another notch. Her body was relaxed, fluid, as she watched him watching her. Thoughts flashed through his mind as he drowned in those stormy gray eyes—images of naked flesh, limbs entwined. Be damned if he wasn't getting hard just standing there, looking at her.

  "So. Are you going to stare at me all night, or are you going to buy me a drink?" Her soft voice challenged him. He swallowed, unable to find his voice through the hunger powering through him.

  "Both." He moved to her side and signaled the bartender, ordering another two beers. When they arrived, they clinked the bottles together in a silent toast.

  "Rhys Cohen," he said, standing so close he could feel her heat, could smell her scent, weaving around him and pulling him under.

  "Kasie." She gave him a small smile, her lips curling lightly.

  "No last name?"

  "No."

  And in that moment, he didn't care. This woman before him had him coming undone, his wolf snapping and snarling at him to have a taste, to reach out and touch that golden skin, to run his thumb along her full lower lip, maybe let it slip inside the hot wetness of her mouth. He'd never experienced anything like it—this sizzling attraction had blindsided him. All he knew was that he wanted her. In the worst way. Mine.

  She tilted her head back, taking a deep pull from the bottle, her long neck arched, the corded leather bracelets around her wrist sliding up her arm like a lover’s caress. He wanted to touch so badly, but he stopped himself. He was a stranger to her. They were two strangers in a beachside hotel, passing through, passing time.

  "You hungry, Rhys?" she murmured, lowering the bottle and licking her lips.

  "Starving!" he growled.

  "I meant for food. Let's eat." She took his hand. Twining her fingers through his, she led them to a table by the window. He could barely string two words together as the waiter took their order. She watched him from across the table, those gray eyes capturing him and refusing to let go. Sitting through two days of council meetings had been worth it if she was his reward.

  They didn't speak as they ate. Every now and then she'd look at him and smile, and he'd automatically return that smile, some unbidden emotion washing over him. He didn't just want to touch and taste her; he wanted to please her, to see that smile on her face again and again. If the guys could see him now, they'd give him hell. Call him whipped. Brought to his knees by a pocket rocket of a woman. She couldn’t be more than five-foot-four. Petite, but with curves in all the right places. She might be diminutive, but the power she was wielding over him would make a warrior jealous.

  "Let's walk." He stood, capturing her hand in his, heart skipping a beat when she followed him unquestioningly. They stepped out onto the beach, their fe
et sinking into the sand, as the sun set over the ocean. He knelt before her, sliding a hand down her calf to ease her sandal off. She placed a hand on his shoulder for balance, and he burned. With her shoes removed, he looked up at her, then slowly stood and ran his hands up her legs, to her hips, pausing at her waist where her dress parted to bare her flesh. In the twilight, her eyes seemed darker, but boy, the way she looked at him. His hands continued, skimming her sides before cupping her neck, tilting her face, angling her head just the way he wanted.

  Lowering his mouth to hers, he kissed her softly, gently. He wanted to consume her, to grind against her and claim her, force her lips apart and plunder her mouth, but he held back. Take it slow. She was worth more. He should have taken a moment to clear his addled mind, but all he could focus on was her. Mine.

  Her breath left her in a sigh and she leaned into him, her arms coming up to wrap around his neck. He pulled her even closer, her small frame dwarfed by his body. She felt so tiny against him, but so incredibly powerful.

  "More," she whispered into his mouth. His cock twitched, straining against his jeans. He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth with his tongue. She kissed him back, devouring him, taking him to places he'd never been before. He was no innocent, but fuck, this woman was wringing something out of him that he'd never felt before. He wanted her so badly he felt like a hormonal teenager again, about to blow his load in his pants. He literally trembled at her touch.

  She slowly pulled away, her lips red and swollen from his kisses, and tugged him toward the ocean. He followed, uncaring even when waves crashed around his knees, soaking his jeans. She stopped, watching him carefully, then nodded, as if she'd made some internal decision. She reached up and pulled his face down to hers. Their mouths met, her fingers twisting in his hair. With a groan, he pulled her tight against him, pushing his erection against her stomach. Her hands grabbed his ass and pulled him closer, her breath coming in pants as she tore her mouth from his to caress his neck. Her teeth nipped and scraped before she soothed the bites with a sweep of her tongue.

  He was coming undone. With another groan, he lifted her up, and as she wrapped her legs around his waist, he waded them further into the surf, capturing her laugh with his mouth. She clamped her ankles together behind him, her grip around his hips unbreakable. To his surprise, she unwound her arms from his neck and held them out to her sides before slowly lowering her upper body backward to float in the ocean, eyes closed and a look of bliss on her face. The water flowed over her, turning her dress transparent, the white fabric floating around them. She was a vision, a goddess. He reached out and cupped her breasts, her pink nipples showing clearly through the fabric. She arched into his touch, her head tipping further back until she unintentionally dunked herself. She leveled back out with a giggle, her hair now dripping, the flower coming loose and floating away.

  He grabbed her arms and pulled her upright against him, not caring that she soaked his shirt. She latched onto his mouth again, demanding, her kiss rougher, wanting more. He didn't stop her when she eased her lower body away and her fingers found his belt, then his zipper, pushing under the water to caress him. He shuddered in her grasp, his own hands getting busy, shoving her wet dress up around her waist. She did have underwear on, but not for long. With a sharp tug, he tore her panties off, leaving them to float away on the waves. He swore he heard her purr. His own wolf was certainly growling.

  She was potent, a drug in his blood, overwhelming his senses. The surf thundered in his ears—or was that his own heartbeat? Her fingers stroked and caressed him, her mouth playing across his chest, teeth nipping. Her scent surrounded him, stronger than the ocean. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back as she matched the rhythm of the waves, stronger, harder, faster, until he roared against her, lost.

  She was feathering kisses across his collarbone when awareness returned. Feeling ashamed that he'd climaxed with no thought for her, he got busy, kissing his way across her cheek to nibble on her lips.

  "My turn," he growled, the timbre of his voice making her shiver. He hoisted her up higher against him, bringing her breast to his mouth, where he sucked her nipple through the fabric of her dress.

  "Mmmmm," she purred, arching her hips against him. He repeated his actions on the other breast before lowering her slightly to plunder her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside and taking what he wanted from her. Holding her with one arm, his hand splayed out across her back, he let his free hand explore her thigh, caressing her firm flesh, feeling the strength of muscle beneath her satin skin. He brushed his fingers against her curls and her breath sucked in, then blew out when he ran a finger along the length of her. She was so hot and wet, her texture different to the water flowing around them. She tangled her fingers in his hair again and ground herself against his hand, muttering into his mouth where to touch her—harder, softer, more, faster. She knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't shy about directing him. He'd never experienced anything so erotic.

  He captured her cries with his mouth as she climaxed around his fingers. He held her tightly, her face buried in his neck while she came down from her high. Fuck.

  "Stay with me," he growled, his teeth scraping against the tender skin of her throat.

  "For tonight? Yes."

  "I want more than one night." He clamped his mouth shut. Where had that come from? His dick was ruling his head.

  "How many nights do you want?" She was moving again, rubbing herself up against him. He couldn't think.

  "How many will you give me?"

  "Three. Three nights, no strings." Every man’s dream, yet why did he feel reluctant? Because he wanted more? Because he somehow knew three nights wouldn't be enough? But then again, maybe at the end he'd be sated, and she’d no longer have this power over him. At the moment, she could lead him by the dick, and he'd go anywhere and do anything. It chafed to admit it.

  "Deal."

  So began three days of down and dirty sex. He'd called the airline and delayed his flight home. He'd worshiped her body in so many ways during those days and long, hot nights, had left behind love bites, resisting marking her permanently when she'd warned him in total honesty that she would cut off his balls and feed them to him if he marked her. So he'd settled on the love bites and she'd returned the favor, leaving a beauty of a bruise and teeth marks on the side of his neck when she'd gotten carried away, riding the waves of passion. He'd loved every minute of it. By the second night, he felt a sense of dread that his time with her was running out, that three nights wouldn't be enough after all.

  And when they'd finally slept, he held her and soothed her when her nightmares had her crying out. At times, when her guard was down, he saw the anguish in those huge gray eyes. But she wouldn't talk about it, no matter how he pushed. She wouldn't even give him her last name, telling him it was better that he didn't know. She was running from her demons, that much he'd worked out. He also knew he was falling for her, this mysterious woman who so openly shared her body with him, but not her heart. She'd moved into his room, where they could make good use of his king-sized bed. She'd left her rusted, sky blue Jeep outside the budget room she'd rented. He was pondering his next move—convincing her to stay with him—when he drifted off to sleep, holding her tucked against his chest.

  The minute he opened his eyes at dawn, he knew she'd left. For the last three days, he'd sensed her, like an invisible energy wrapping around him, letting him know she was near. Now it was gone. All that surrounded him was emptiness. With a curse, he flung off the sheet covering him, her faint scent wafting through the air, making his heart ache. Pulling on his jeans, he flung open the door and looked outside. Her Jeep was gone.

  He punched the wall. Shit. SHIT. FUCK.

  2

  The radio blared a song by Luke Bryan about a girl crashing his party, and warm summer air blew through the open windows of her Jeep as she sped down the highway. Alongside the asphalt, wheat fields rolled under a cloudless blue sky. Glancing at the clock on the dash, s
he calculated that she should make it to Stipton by eight. Although she was tired, she preferred to push on. It was safer in cities—less chance of being discovered. Strangers stood out in small towns, and there was nothing but small towns between here and Stipton.

  She’d probably be there already if she’d taken the interstate, but the appeal of driving the back roads was too much. Single lanes in each direction, almost no traffic, losing herself in the picturesque landscape—she could pretend, for just a moment, that her life wasn't such a goddamn freaking mess. She loved driving with the windows down, the wind whipping her hair around her head. On the interstate, it was all fumes and honking horns. Out here on the back roads, she felt a certain sense of peace. These days, she’d take what she could get. Memories of Rhys drifted into her mind; even though it had been three months since her encounter with him, she could still feel him on her skin as if it were yesterday.

  The steering wheel shuddered beneath her hands, dragging her mind back to the present. Please don't go on the fritz with me now, she prayed. I'm just about out of money, I can't afford any repairs. A loud bang startled her and the Jeep pulled sharply to the right. Hands fisting around the wheel, she tried to straighten it, but the vehicle didn’t respond. The Jeep veered sideways, tires gripping the asphalt and squealing in protest. It happened so fast, yet it was as if it was happening in slow motion. As the Jeep slid sideways down the road, gravity won out, and with a screeching and the smell of burning rubber, over it went, tipping into an eighty mile an hour roll. Metal crunched, glass broke, and the world spun as the Jeep bounced down the highway, spinning out of control before coming to rest on its roof. After the noise of the crash, the sudden silence was deafening. She could hear the tires spinning, useless with no road beneath the tread, slowing to a stop. Metal groaned as the Jeep settled. Music still blasted from the radio.