Dark: A Dark Paranormal Romance (Blood Moon, Texas Shifters Book 1)

by Kat Kinney

"Don’t even think about it,” I warned.

  She shivered almost involuntarily, as if she could feel my voice licking over her skin. And wished it weren’t the only thing.

  “Come here.”

  Her eyes hooded at the command. Raw moonlust screamed in my blood, her pulse dragging mine upwards. Images slammed into my head. The two of us going at it up against the wall. Her legs wrapped around my waist. Dark nails rough in my hair. I was spreading her out on the table over in the corner, rucking that tiny black skirt up over her hips. And then I was down on my knees, her Docs scraping my back, my tongue—

  That was when she bolted for the door. I knocked over a table, managing to catch her around the waist. Snarling, she slammed me into the wall, hard. Fingernails raked down my shoulder. Pain seared up my arm. Swearing, I shoved her back against the industrial refrigerator. She slapped me. I grabbed her wrists, forcing her face-down against the counter. Hayden writhed in fury, spitting every filthy name she could think at me.

  “Let. Go.”

  “Yeah, forgot to wash my red cape so the whole chasing-you-through-the-streets-while-you-inconveniently-eat-villagers thing won’t be happening.”

  Twisting to the side, she sank her teeth into my biceps. I shouted, instantly going hard. The wolf roared up from my subconscious like a freight train. Something snapped into focus, my heart pounding so violently I thought it would explode. Nothing remained but the need to mark, to possess, to claim. Yanking Hayden’s hair to one side, I bit down, hard.

  There was a second of struggle. Her sharp, shocked breath. And then the sweet rush of relief as the connection between us opened, tightened. Hayden Crowe, mine.

  Mine.

  Mine.

  Suddenly we were biting everywhere. Throats. Arms. My teeth grazed the tops of her breasts. Hayden released a shuddering sigh. Through the fog, part of my mind tried to claw back to the surface, screamed to stop.

  But by then it was too late. I was lit up like a Christmas tree. Every nerve ending roared, crying out for more. And I hated myself for it. Hayden bent to lick my neck. I let out a strangled groan, swollen and leaking in the confines of my jeans.

  “Hayden,” I rasped, the part of me grasping at human thought, anything but the lizard-brain drive to mate slamming into my skull with every one of her heartbeats, screaming how effed-up this was.

  And still I fondled her hair where it was knotted in my fist. My tongue slowly traced the deep red bite mark I’d just left at the base of her throat, her heart thrumming obediently in time with mine. Even as I knew this was wrong. That we couldn’t. Not like this.

  Big shocker: werewolves were way into oral. The fun kind, obviously, but also, just plain biting. Our teeth looked human, but let’s just say you had to be careful not to get your freak on if you were making out with a girl who wasn’t a were. My brother Dallas learned that one the hard way.

  Biting came in all forms. We bit when we were turned on. We bit when we were pissed off. We bit to claim territory, establish dominance, and force submission.

  And claim mates.

  Hayden shivered in my arms, grinding against my erection.

  “Yeah, time out.” Releasing her, I staggered back.

  Because no way in hell were we getting horizontal. Not like this. Not when she was amped up, had no idea what she was doing, and her real self, her human self, couldn’t consent.

  She started for me, eyes hooded.

  I bared my teeth. “Come any closer and I’ll bite you for real.”

  Which couldn’t happen. Neither of us could take another hit like that or we were going to be down on the rubber mat with Hayden riding me until I passed out and she couldn’t walk straight for a week.

  In answer, she reached down to unzip her skirt.

  Shit. And yeah, I couldn’t deny certain parts of me were saluting the idea so hard I was surprised I had blood left to come up with a counterargument, the physical need to mate sharp enough that I’d broken out in a cold sweat. There had to be a way to get Hayden upstairs to my stash of silver handcuffs using, like, freaking oven mitts and bubble wrap because I’d never laid a hand on a woman, and hell if I was going to start with her.

  “Look,” I rasped. “Why don’t we—”

  She snarled, lunging for me, her wolf apparently unable to decide if it wanted to turn me into hamburger or make me into her boy toy. And my sick bastard of a wolf was right there, rattling its cage, howling to join the party, threats to get turned into Hayden Crowe’s personal Happy Meal be damned. I leaped out of the way, but she was faster, and even as I tried to find a way to pin her arms without hurting her, I felt the bite just above my left pec.

  Instinct took over like a punch to the head. The room swam in a maelstrom of blue, ochre and gray, my wolf eyes unable to perceive the full spectrum of color my human ones could even though my vision in that form was a hundred times sharper, rendering my glasses useless. Not that it mattered. Because by the time that thought vaguely registered, I was forcing her down to the floor, feeling my shirt come up over my head. And I didn’t give a damn about any of it.

  Hayden Crowe and I had claimed each other. And we were both completely screwed.

  3

  Hayden

  BACK WHEN I WORKED AT DARK, Ethan and I had a safe word. Which, yes, was all sorts of weird considering:

  1) We not only weren’t getting kinky, we’d never even kissed.

  2) When Ellie caught me reading Fifty Shades on my phone, she completely flipped out and spilled Mexican Coke all over my favorite Killers tee, and

  3) When Ethan smirked and said, “You gonna tie me up, Anastasia?” I actually considered hiding in the supply closet behind the napkins and paper to-go cups for the rest of my shift.

  Because, yeah, I totally never pictured the two of us making out in front of the espresso machines. Or arranging a freak iced-caramel-mocha accident that required us to clean each other off using only our tongues.

  It turned out after you spent enough time handing off cappuccinos and bumping elbows with someone trying to get that last slice of banana-nut bread out of the pastry case, it was possible to develop a serious problem with boundaries. Think swiped phones and cheesy 80’s ballads added to playlists. (You should have seen his expression when Nine Inch Nails abruptly switched over to Careless Whisper while he was in the middle of a pour.)

  This was followed by the trading out of the sleeve of Thin Mints in my lunch for Saltines. And seriously, even if you didn’t have sisters, what guy couldn’t read the signs when the female of the species began hoarding chocolate once a month? #UglyCry. He may or may not have totally chased down a Girl Scout. And then there was the notebook.

  1) You should never throw iced coffee on anyone in the workplace.

  2) Especially not your boss.

  3) There was no safe place short of the center of the sun for lyrics that were not so subtly about a guy the artist was crushing on with hazel eyes. #facepalm

  But that was the problem with writing. Lyrics came to me at the oddest times, like when I was idling in the drive-thru of the local Whataburger waiting on my weekly cheeseburger fix, which was why I always kept a cheap school notebook from the sale bin at the local grocery store in my secondhand hobo bag. Its cover was taped over in swag from every band I’d seen play live, its pages cluttered with stickers and old guitar picks. I was pretty much your local serial killer collecting trophies.

  And so yeah, sometimes I had to sneak a lyric or two in between orders. Sue me.

  When Ethan and I decided we needed a safe word to avoid any more coffee-throwing, lyric-spying calamities, Ethan voted for G-String. I suggested Delilah, which was the name of Freddie Mercury’s cat. We settled on cluster pluck.

  The one word neither one of us had said.

  Ethan gripped my wrists, stopping me before I could peel his shirt all the way off. “We can’t. Not like this.”

  “You said if we hooked up it would—”

  “Yeah, I was explaining how it worked.
Wasn’t suggesting a quickie up against the window for everyone out on Main to see.”

  “I won’t turn into that thing again. Are you going to help me or not?”

  His gaze dipped to my mouth. The thing about chemistry? Two people either had it or they didn’t. That flutter in your ribcage when their fingers slid through your hair. A look that could make your knees go weak. The way your heart exploded from something so simple as a text with that shaky, delicious feeling of knowing things were definitely not in the friend zone.

  I moved lower, past his navel, skimming the dark trail of hair leading down into his jeans.

  Ethan bit my ear. “Worst. Idea. Ever.”

  “It doesn’t have to mean anything,” I said, the words coming out high and breathy. Freaking chemistry.

  I reached up to straighten his glasses, fingers grazing the line of raw red bites trailing up the side of his neck. His breathing hitched.

  “You’re in no shape to be fooling around.”

  I licked the stubbly underside of his jaw. “I’m talking sound checks, not the full set list. You do me and I’ll do you.”

  With a growl, Ethan boosted me up onto the counter. I threaded my fingers through his hair, nipping at his bottom lip. He gripped the back of my neck, lips covering mine. I shuddered as he pushed me back onto the counter, feeling a low pulse start between my legs. Our tongues warred. His hands ghosted beneath the strap of my bra, tracing my spine until I was arched like a freshly strung bow beneath him, fingertips slowly devouring me like they’d never tasted skin.

  He released a low grunt of pleasure, eyes flaring amber. “Tell me to stop, Hays.”

  I deepened the kiss, sucking his tongue piercing. The buttons of his fly strained in their holes, his cock all but begging to be released. Ethan groaned when I freed him, wrapping my fingers around his length.

  I licked his throat. “Hell, yeah. And yes, please.”

  He leaned down to bite my lip ring in a kiss that tasted like cinnamon and espresso, darkness and spice, and as his tongue invaded every last corner of my mouth, that familiar sensation returned, the one I’d only ever felt with him, where I wondered if it was possible to willingly drown.

  Fisting my hair, he tilted my head back. Rough bites trailed down my throat.

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Yes. Yes—”

  “God, Hayden.” And then his lips closed over the tingling mark still pulsing at the juncture of my shoulder and neck, the original place he’d bitten me only minutes before.

  Stars exploded before my eyes, the world going supernova. Distantly, I felt him begin to suck.

  “Ethan.” I was suddenly keenly aware of the hot, hard ache pulsing in his blood, a sharp, carnal thrum capable of being silenced by one thing alone. My fingers tightened, bringing a cruel symphony of ecstasy and torment, every pounding heartbeat, every shared breath driving us inexorably towards a fast-approaching precipice.

  Arms flexed where he hovered over me, Ethan bent to nip my throat. Pleasure fused with pain, dark and succulent. I arched to meet it, chest thrust out, desperately needing relief. Tugging down the straps of my tank and bra, he exposed the pale pink tips of my breasts, pebbled so tightly they ached in the cold air. A whimper escaped me. His tongue traced a slow circle around my areola, warm breath ghosting over my skin.

  And suddenly, I was so hollow, so empty, aching with need.

  Ethan stared down at me, eyes dark. “God. You’re beautiful.”

  In answer, I arched up off the counter, craning my neck as far as the leash of my hair would allow. When I released a strangled sound, Ethan slipped a finger inside me, pushing deep, eyes darkening as each sweet invasion drew his name from my lips.

  And… oh God. It was suddenly too much. The heat of his lips. The shiver of teeth. Breath, hot and wet against skin. The way he stared down at me with hooded eyes like he was the hunter and I was his prey leaving me so raw, so naked I felt it down to the tips of my toes.

  He bit the crease of my throat, a bite that was like none of the others that had come before. Carnal. Possessive. All animal. And from deep within me, a primitive voice responded, pleasure and pain snaking together at the thought of being claimed. I shattered, bursting like a wild swirl of dandelion seeds caught in a spring gust.

  For as violently, gloriously as it had risen, the fire in my blood cooled just as quickly, the unbearable weight that had been clawing at my mind since sunset miraculously lifted. I blinked. Ethan stood braced over me, the hard frame of his shoulders silhouetted against the lights overhead.

  “Shit.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Are you—"

  I sat up, fumbling to straighten my clothes. For the first time since the moon had come out, the buzzing in my head was clear. It was as if the universe was waving its arms, trying to get my attention before I made a complete fool out of myself.

  Again.

  Because this? This was what I swore from the start I wouldn’t do. Let myself get drawn in by the lure of chemistry and connection, two things Ethan Caldwell and I might have had in spades, but that would never amount to anything. I’d learned that lesson once before.

  “I’m fine.”

  He dragged his shirt on and raked a hand through his hair.

  “That… shouldn’t have happened. I’m sorry.”

  I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly uncomfortable. “It’s okay. I—"

  “You were too messed up to consent. I know you asked, but it was the wolf talking, the bond. I shouldn’t have lost control. Shouldn’t have let things go that far.”

  Closing my eyes, I squashed every last hopeful feeling one by one. “Bond?”

  The thing tethering us flared, simmering dark as a summer storm. I frowned. Ethan rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Yeah, so when you bit me, you triggered the wolf’s instinctual mating response.”

  “Um, me? I remember someone else’s teeth getting in on the action, too.”

  His cheeks darkened. “Sorry about that. Things got pretty intense.”

  I traced the scar at my throat, the one thrumming in time with his pulse. At the touch of my fingers, Ethan closed his eyes, swaying in place. My traitorous heart fluttered. Could he feel my pulse slamming in his veins, too?

  “And now we’re bonded?”

  “It’s just temporary,” he said hastily. “Shifters hook up all the time, bite each other for the high, then go their separate ways. Should wear off—"

  “How long?” I rubbed my arms, the awkwardness in the room suddenly at like, an eleven. “I mean, are we going to be like—"

  “I don’t know,” Ethan said at last. “And no, I think that was just the initial rush of pheromones. I mean, I’ve never—”

  “Never?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers tickling over a half-crescent mark left by my teeth. Because, oh God. I’d done that. At this rate, Ellie would need to vaccinate me for rabies. “You, uh, with anyone?”

  “No.” I stared stonily back at him. “Why?”

  Going to the refrigerator, he pulled out two bottles of water and tossed me one. “Because I’d feel better knowing I didn’t just fool around with someone who’s in a relationship.”

  I crossed my arms. “Are you—”

  “No.”

  A feeling I wouldn’t allow myself to examine swelled in my chest. I forced it down. “I need information. I’ve spent four weeks avoiding hospitals because of a message scrawled on my arm, scared shitless it was vampires and I was going to rise again as one of the undead. And now I’m almost certain the person who attacked me is following me.”

  “You’ve seen him?”

  I twisted my hair into a knot, letting it fall over one shoulder. “You know that feeling you get when you know you’re being watched? You’re standing in line at a food truck and your skin starts to crawl. You go out to the corner to grab the mail and… ugh. You probably think I’m crazy.”

  “Borderline chocolate addict for sure.”

  I flipped him off.


  “As for vamps, those scum-sucking prickheads are a separate species. You’re either born one or you’re not. Lycanthropy is caused by a virus that’s spread to humans through biting, needle exchange or unprotected sex. It modifies our human DNA, allowing us to absorb energy from moonlight and use it to shift forms. Shifters are fully integrated into human society for the most part. We hold jobs, look like anyone you’d pass on the street. Vamps work the criminal underbelly of the major cities. You won’t see them out during the day—”

  “So the sun thing is true?”

  “Sure.” Ethan flipped his bottle cap. “It’s one of the few ways to kill them. Their governing body has strict laws in place about secrecy, just like ours, but the young ones break off from their covens all the time, start getting sloppy, draining too much so their victims are left with permanent cognitive issues, or even dead. Before they were outed, it always used to look like someone was drugging people out in the clubs. Now the feds are looking into everything.”

  “Let me guess, including the emergency rooms?” I rubbed my arm where the message had been. HOSPITALS NOT SAFE.

  “Yeah, ER’s are a hot spot at the moment. The government knows we’re out there now, hiding in plain sight. It’s the whole reason behind the push for the Nationwide Database Act.”

  “Thought that wasn’t going anywhere what with the watchdog groups screaming about Big Brother.”

  “So far it hasn’t gained steam. But with a blood profile and a positive ID, we’d be sitting ducks. They’d be able to pick us out of the general population, set up checkpoints, run fingerprints and haul people in.”

  “Damn,” I breathed.

  “Yeah. Moment that happens, it’s a game changer, and both sides know it.”

  We fell silent. The air conditioner hummed in the background. Ethan cracked his wrist, reaching down to adjust the straps on his leather cuff.

  “Your friends in your band didn’t see anything the night you were attacked?”

  I uncapped my water. “Who says I play in a band?”

  “Hypothetically.”

  “Stalker.”