Bite of the Moon: Paranormal Shapeshifter Romance Boxed Set

by Michelle Fox

  With her heightened shifter senses, Tabitha caught the roar of a passing engine, despite the soundproofing materials used in the loft reconstruction.

  I think I heard you, Finn. Did you just ride by one of the residential loft projects? One still under construction but mostly finished?

  I did. Finn’s surge of excitement washed palpably over Tabitha, raising goose bumps on her skin that were entirely visible thanks to her nudity. Got you, baby girl. I know the building. I can find you. Do you hear me, Tabitha? I can find you.

  Another bristle of excitement and relief prickled over Tabitha’s skin, but this time it was her own. Setting aside the question of whether she should have been so reliant on Finn to protect her, rescue her, she knew he would. He wanted to. He cared.

  Finn, there are three of them. I know you’re a shifter, but they look… professional. I don’t know if you want to bring someone to help or—.

  “Miss Vallins, how nice to see you again.” A familiar voice interrupted Tabitha’s concentration. Those goose bumps rose higher in her skin, as a chill ran along her back. She looked up and blinked, squinting, confused. “Whole and well and uninjured, I’m happy to say.” Then he added with a chuckle, “Though it does look like the air conditioning might be up a tad too high for your particular state.”

  “Mr. Poulsen, sir,” one of the suited thugs said in greeting.

  Tabitha gaped. That sweet older man? The thugs from the garage were with him? “Mr. Poulsen?” she repeated.

  “Please, dear, I already gave you leave to call me Thomas. It’s the least I can do, considering what you’re doing for me.”

  In the back of Tabitha’s mind, she felt a flash of distress and anger from Finn.

  Poulsen? Thomas Fucking Poulsen? Then a lot of cussing.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  There was no way around it. Finn forcing his energy and concentration into his psychic connection to Tabitha was going to give both of them one mother of a fucking headache. But that way, Finn could hear anything Tabitha heard and even catch an image now and again of what she was seeing. Those hit his mind like a stab from a shard of glass. For now, at least, the adrenaline and—very likely—a shift would cover the pain for the Fenris Wolf scout.

  Living up to the scout’s role in the pack as the fastest and most stealthy, Finn hit the tenth floor of the building without alerting the high-end mercenaries stationed on the ground floor and at the tenth floor elevators. They all stood, moved, smelled like ex-Agency hunters turned private thugs. Those were the ones who valued the profit over the power. They killed supernaturals just as dead as their true-believer counterparts still serving in the government strike teams that kept the mundane world from finding out monsters lived among poor, innocent humans.

  Innocent, Finn thought. Right. Like fucking Poulsen. What the hell was that flashy old bastard up to? More than selling old swords and antique jewelry, obviously. Finn had already come under the impression, a nagging suspicion, that the antiquities dealer knew he was moving extraordinary object and that his clients weren’t run-of-the-mill yuppies and dot com brats who’d cashed out before the bubble burst.

  All the doors to the service stairs were locked, until the shifter broke off the handles and took the knobs apart. Finn followed his gut-level connection to Tabitha toward one particular apartment, luckily down the hall and around the corner from the elevators, far enough from the guards to avoid notice if the Fenris Wolf kept quiet. Even though he had a feeling that the door wasn’t locked as he crouched down beside it—after all, who was going to get past the guards with their modified ARs?—Finn stopped to breathe and steady himself and try to listen in through his connection to Tabitha.

  So why couldn’t he hear anything? At all?

  When Finn stood and faced the door, he knew. That they knew. The light from inside cast the slightest shadow under the door. A figure was waiting, waiting patiently, just beyond. Finn didn’t even have to turn the doorknob. He reached out and pushed it open with his fingertips to reveal a smiling Thomas Poulsen flanked by two armed ‘men in black’ types.

  The white-haired bastard wagged a wrinkled, crooked finger at the shifter. “I have the files, haven’t seen the pictures, but I’m willing to bet that you’re Finn McCaffrey.” The shifter didn’t answer, bracing himself to shift and charge and try to take out all three men. That was, until Poulsen took a step back and half-turned to reveal… a cage? A huge gilded birdcage with Tabitha curled naked inside it. Finn hesitated not just because a chill hit his blood like all those memories locked in the mind of his six-year-old self but because another mercenary had an automatic rifle pointed at his mate’s head.

  “Come in, please,” Poulsen insisted. “I believe you know Tabitha. Are you the werewolf who was helpful enough to turn her for us?”

  “For you?” Finn asked as he stepped cautiously inside.

  “Oh, yes, we’ve been keeping an eye on Tabitha since she came to our attention. Female werewolves are rare, as you no doubt know. Tough going for the males of your kind, right? With mating—not just sex but mating—being the only way most kinds of shifters avoid what the wolves call the wilding. Where you lose your human forms permanently, I understand.”

  Finn snarled at the man, who seemed entertained, even excited at being threatened by a real live werewolf. “Why do you care about us or the wilding or about Tabitha? And what the fuck are you doing with her in that cage?” The scout tried not to look at the gilded pen and see the cold steel cage where he’d been trapped for so many days.

  Poulsen, still offensively good-natured about kidnapping and imprisonment, shrugged and smiled. “The cage? That’s just packaging, at my client’s request.”

  “Client?” Finn enunciated.

  “Oh, yes, there are a number of extremely discerning individuals who have been in the market for a female wolf shifter but not a lot to be had.” As Finn’s rage began to rise to the point of his wolf breaking through, Poulsen motioned to another black suit who was standing behind the door unnoticed by Finn because the shifter was so fucking offended. “If you would please,” the dealer said to the guard.

  Finn turned to look, ready to defend himself from a charge, just in time to get hit by a fine, even lacy metal mesh. The delicate wave instantly wrapped around the shifter and began tightening. “What the—?” he started, then lost his breath to the pain and rolled to his side on the hardwood floor.

  “A Fenris Chain, they call it,” Poulsen said, standing directly over Finn and watching with open curiosity. “A couple of my employees used to work for something you would know as The Agency. This is apparently becoming standard equipment for that organization. Something to do with the chain that bound the wolf Fenrir himself, if you go in for mythology. I do, of course, but when you sell werewolves and magic swords to gods and giants, you get a real education on the subject.”

  Again, Poulsen motioned toward Tabitha’s cage, and Finn could hardly make himself look over at her—as he was failing her again because Fenris Wolves just could not face a challenge with their brains instead of their balls out.

  “That cage of hers is made of similar stuff. Not perfected yet, of course, but it does seem to be holding up just fine. Not that our lady Fenris Wolf has been a poor guest. Honestly, with the reputation of your breed, I was expecting her to be much less… cooperative?”

  Another of his breed? Finn locked eyes with Tabitha, not letting himself linger on how frightened she looked or how much he’d missed those eyes for the last four years.

  Did you hear what he said, Tabitha? He thinks you’re a Fenris Wolf. He doesn’t know. The weapons they have are more effective on my breed than yours, and the cage construction hasn’t been perfected. If you shift, you might be strong enough to break through it. They’ll be distracted by me if I act like this hurts—.

  It does hurt, Finn. I can feel the pain it’s causing you. Stop worrying about me. Get out of that net.

  Finn shook his head so slightly. I can’t, Tabitha. Then th
e Fenris Wolf groaned, as the first of his ribs broke.

  Pointing down at Finn where he writhed in pain, Poulsen asked, “Is there a way to pause that? Make it stay that tight but no more? I don’t want to kill him until I’ve had a chance to contact my client and see if he’s interested in a male as well.” Then to Finn, the dealer said all too affably, “Not for the same purpose, of course, as he’s quite heterosexual. That’s why he’d like a female werewolf as his pet. But he might have a use for you, although, honestly, it would probably be to kill you for sport.”

  “No… pet,” Finn snarled, breathlessly. Inside him, his wolf was in a frothing, mindless rage that grew worse the more helpless it became. Take away a Fenris Wolf’s ability to frenzy, and what was he? A victim like everyone else, like Finn’s parents, like Finn had been.

  “What was that?’ Poulsen asked and leaned over Finn.

  “She’s… not… p… pet.”

  Behind Poulsen, across the room, Tabitha watched Finn being squeezed to death with tears pouring down those beautiful apple cheeks. She had come up on her knees, heedless of her nakedness, and gripped the bars of her cage, shaking them. Her gaze flittered briefly to the wristband on the kitchen counter—her trigger.

  Fuck, Finn thought. She’s not strong enough to shift without the relic.

  And everyone in the room knew it. That was why they weren’t watching Tabitha when they had Finn’s torment to enjoy with fascination and glee. That was why no one saw her jerking on the bars of her cage, pushing and pulling them, bending them as the shimmer of a shift started to set her gorgeous skin alight.

  That’s my girl. You fucking show them what you are.

  Finn rasped and choked as another rib broke. Goddamn Poulsen, so secure with all his guards and Agency toys, actually crouched over the contorted Fenris Wolf. “What did he say?” the old man asked, leaning closer to hear what he must have supposed would be Finn’s final words.

  It was everything Finn could do to lift his face from the floor and look Poulsen straight on and not laugh. “She’s no pet.”

  Poulsen shook his head. “I still can’t hear him.”

  From behind him, in eight-foot-tall half form, the traditional werewolf of horror movies, Tabitha growled, “He said we’re not pets, asshole.”

  When Tabitha swiped her claw across Poulsen’s throat and caught the nearest guard on the backswing, the small runestone-like controller for the Fenris Chain flew from the man’s hand and broke on the hardwood.

  Instantly, Finn was free.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Tabitha came out of the bedroom, fresh from the shower, to find Finn leaning at the long walnut bar at one end of the beach house living room. The brown-haired Fenris Wolf was staring moodily out through the glass patio doors at the ocean and drinking disturbingly expensive whiskey without bothering to pour it into a glass.

  His mate claimed the bottle from him. “What do you think this is, Skin?” she asked before winking at the man and swigging from the bottle herself.

  Though sullen and quiet most of the morning, Finn huffed out an amused breath. “You’re drinking like a shifter now. At this rate, a week from now, that whole bottle won’t even get you tipsy.”

  She took another drink and slowly licked an errant drop from her lips, knowing Finn was watching and knowing what the sight did to his rising cock. “Better enjoy it while I can, then.” Odd, she thought, that she liked the taste of whiskey now as a shifter when she’d hated it as a human. The burn didn’t seem to bother her as much. She clanked the metal bottle down forcefully on the bar and stepped forward to kiss Finn roughly. This time, it was her tongue in his mouth, her in control. She drew back only once they were breathless and whispered, “Do you at least still like the taste?”

  “Goddamn right I do.” And she knew he wasn’t just talking about the whiskey.

  Despite the nearly constant sex the two had been having over their last several days hiding out and recovering at the house, Finn was still quick to shove the fluffy white robe down Tabitha’s shoulders and take her bare breasts roughly in his hands. Instantly, as soon as her mate started to handle her that way, Tabitha’s skin and sex flushed, tingling and ready.

  Their arms tangling, Tabitha resisted Finn’s advance, his scruffy cheeks and mouth and hands on her tits. She reached for the bottom his t-shirt to pull it up his lean torso and over his head. As soon as it was up past his face but still wound over his arms, Tabitha twisted it tighter to bind him.

  Finn laughed low and growled and playfully resisted. “What do you think you’re doing, baby girl?”

  Tabitha pulled harder to bind Finn’s arms and made up for the fact that the shifter could easily have torn the shirt by tangling up with him to trip them both panting and laughing huskily onto the carpet. The she-wolf pushed her mate onto his back and held him there, her hands planted on his shoulders, her hips astride his as she straddled his bulging groin.

  “That’s Mama Wolf to you,” she said and kissed him again. Even with the lingering smoky heat of the whiskey, Finn always tasted of warm spice. She hungrily lapped the flavor from his mouth and nipped his lips for good measure at the end of the kiss.

  Finn let her. He let Tabitha pull his hair as she sensually assaulted his mouth. He let her bounce herself tauntingly on his stiffened cock through his pants like the curvy little cock tease was going to get away with that. He let her sit up and strip off her robe while slapping his hands away when he reached for the belt or for her skin.

  Tabitha was surprised how much she enjoyed being in control for a change, now that she felt herself coming into her power as a shifter. When she jerked Finn’s jeans open and pulled them down just enough, when she squeezed and stroked his thick cock to full attention, and when she put it inside her with her own hand, the fact that she could claim him and her own pleasure made her bristle with the thrill of it.

  Gazing down at Finn and seeing the lust and appreciation for her every curve gleaming in his eyes, Tabitha grew even bolder. “So, Mr. Bad Boy Biker, is this how it felt to fuck all those mamas at the bar and the clubhouse?” She clenched the snug walls of her sex down on him, causing them both to catch their breath. “Were they as tight and hot as this?”

  Stubborn and rebellious, Finn refused to answer, other than to buck up under Tabitha wildly to try to make her lose her balance.

  “Behave,” she told him sternly, taking hold of his chin with one hand. Finn growled and nipped her. “Bad wolf.” Tabitha pinned Finn’s hands above his head, wondering if it was the first time a female had ever done that to him. Would he have put up with it from anyone but a she-wolf? And any she-wolf but his mate? She was grinding her hips down in circles on Finn’s cock, taking it deeper and deeper inside her even when she thought she’d taken it all, as she leaned over his face to murmur to him. “If you’re very good and say please, I’ll let you come.”

  That easily, that hard, the biker reached the end of his patience and came up from under Tabitha in a surge of strength and speed she could not match. He spun her around onto her hands and knees and mounted her from behind in one brutal thrust that made the lupa cry out shamelessly.

  “Don’t play with wild animals, little girl,” Finn snarled through his teeth as he set his concentration on building a punishing rhythm in and out of her aching pussy. It was one thing when she rode him but another when her wolf, her biker, her mate made her open up for him. One hand slapped her ass until it was hot and pink while the other alternately tormented her nipples and her clitoris with the rough touch Finn knew made her crazy.

  For all the thrill of being a she-wolf now, with the senses and strength that came with it, Tabitha still went soft and warm with the dark bliss of Finn taking her like the alpha he was.

  “Say it,” he growled. “Say I’m your alpha.”

  No fair listening in on what I’m thinking during sex.

  Fucking beg for your alpha’s cock, lupa.

  Tabitha gasped at the force of Finn’s thought in her hea
d. “Oh my god, fuck you,” she told him defiantly and loved the extra rough thrusts she got for it.

  “Can’t,” Finn retorted. “I’m too busy fucking you. Isn’t that right, lupa?” Finn bounced his hips so he thrust his cock forward twice without withdrawing, then again, drawing twin cried of shock and pleasure from Tabitha each time. “You’re feeling that, aren’t you, baby girl? Say it. Say it, Tabitha.”

  “No,” she rasped, twisting to look back over her shoulder at the Fenris Wolf shifter. Fuck but he was still the sexiest, prettiest bad boy she’d ever seen with that five o’clock scruff and the ragged waves of brown hair falling carelessly over one eye. With that smooth skin over lean, flexing muscle and a long torso leading down to that sinful V. And with a cock so big it hurt like heaven to take it every time.

  “Say it,” Finn warned Tabitha again, “or I’m not letting you come.” The evil gleam in his eye said he meant it. To make matters worse, two of his calloused fingertips dipped between her thighs to rub her clit furiously, then stopped, then tormented her again.

  “Oh fuck, please, Finn.” She tried to catch his hand by the wrist and make him keep his fingers where she needed them. Her climax was right there, crouched over her like a beast, but Finn wouldn’t let it have her. “Please, yes, yes. You’re my alpha. Please please please fuck me. Please fuck me with that big cock. Oh, please, Finn, make me come.”

  The biker grabbed a handful of Tabitha’s blond hair for leverage as he kicked up the pace, riding her furiously. “See what happens when you beg, lupa? You get fucked as hard and fast as you can take it and you come until you scream.”

  Finn wasn’t teasing or threatening or promising something he couldn’t deliver. The friction inside Tabitha of his flesh against hers, so hot, so hard, so fast, was all it took to push her into the throes of her orgasm. The bliss hit her so hard that the strength went out of her arms. She rode out wave after wave of pleasure with her cheek pressed to the carpet and her hands holding the short shag as best she could. Tabitha couldn’t breathe for a few seconds, just as Finn himself was coming, his hips pumping convulsively. He was filling her with his heat, and she didn’t want any sensation—even breathing—to distracted her from that feeling, that fulfillment.