Spellbound Moon

by Loribelle Hunt

  She turned the water off. She dried off with one towel and wrapped a big, fluffy one around her body before stepping into the hall. Her scrapes stung. The cream would make them sting more, but there was also a bottle of rum in kitchen. A shot sounded like just the thing to soothe her aching heart.

  Without turning on the hall light or even glancing into the living room as she passed, she went straight for a glass and the bottle. There was enough moonlight streaming in to see, so she poured a finger and downed it before pouring another. Then she rummaged in the cabinet where the first-aid supplies were, but had to reach over to flick on the light when she couldn’t see inside the dim space. She found the antibiotic cream, a box of Band-Aids, and carried both to the table before going to retrieve her drink.

  “What the hell happened to you?”

  She almost dropped her drink. Heart pounding, she set the glass on the counter and turned slowly. She should have known Jonas wouldn’t leave when she hadn’t answered the door. His gaze moved over her possessively, and she was suddenly aware she was standing there in only a towel. She wasn’t sure if it was mortification or lust that sent a heated flush up her throat to her face. Clothes. She needed clothes ASAP. Before she could sidle past him, however, Mick nudged Jonas aside. He walked right up to her and dropped to one knee, his hands gentle as he examined her legs.

  “What did you do, sugar?”

  It took a moment to find her voice. His touch was professional, but her body didn’t care, and she couldn’t get the image of him and Jonas having sex out of her head. He looked up with a sexy grin, and she groaned. He was a werewolf. Of course he could smell her arousal. Standing, he took her hand, then tugged her to the table. He lifted her to sit on it, went back to the cabinet, and returned with a bottle of peroxide and a bag of cotton balls.

  He pulled a chair to face her, tugged her feet to rest on the edge and pinned them with his thighs. He wet one of the cotton balls, then reached for her leg. Jerking away was reflexive, and she didn’t stop until his low growl filled the room.

  “I already cleaned it,” she whispered.

  “With what?”

  “Soap and water.”

  “Think of this as added precaution.” His fingers circled her ankle gently, but she knew there was no way he’d let her go. Resigned, she sighed and repressed a flinch when he touched the cotton ball to one of the smaller scrapes.

  “Harper.” She shivered at Jonas’s voice. She could hear the wolf in it, but it was sexy rather than frightening. He moved to stand behind Mick and waited until she looked up to meet his gaze. “What happened?”

  “I cut through the woods. And found a briar patch.”

  He shook his head. “You can’t be left unsupervised at all can you?”

  She bristled. “I’m fine. It’s just a few scratches. I can take care of myself.” But she didn’t try to pull free of Mick’s gentle healer’s grasp.

  Jonas crossed his arms over his chest, and his face seemed set in stone. Privately, she called it his stern face. He wouldn’t use it on her nearly so much if he knew how much this hard, unforgiving side of him turned her on.

  “Is that right? You get yourself hurt walking home. Spy on people in the woods.” Oh gods, he had to bring that up? Her face was so hot she knew it’d be scarlet. “And you get yourself engaged to some wizard when you have two mates already.”

  “I am not engaged to anyone. My father came up with that plan all on his own.”

  Jonas, arrogant as ever, cocked one eyebrow. “Is that right?”

  She nodded. She couldn’t find the voice to answer when he looked at her with that avaricious heat in his eyes.

  “Can’t really blame her for that anyway,” Mick said calmly. She jumped when the peroxide contacted the deepest cut and the scrape up the outside of her calf. “She didn’t know she belonged to us then.”

  Was it interest or terror that filled her at the possessiveness in their voices? Terror, definitely. She was in no way prepared to handle one of them, much less two. Tempted maybe, but not prepared. It was just good fantasy material. Fine. Great fantasy material. Scary and intoxicating at the same time, but impossible.

  Mick tossed the used cotton balls to the trash can in the corner and then picked up the antibiotic cream. She trembled under his soft touch as he smeared it on each scrape, paying particular attention to the long, ugly one.

  When he was finished, he held both her calves in a light grip. “Why are you so afraid, sugar?”

  The air seemed to chill. The question was gently asked, but the demand for information was in his eyes.

  “Who says I am?”

  Jonas’s voice was harsh. “We can scent it. It’s sharp and tangy, and I like it a little too much. Answer the damned question, Harper.”

  Oh, that pissed her off. He acted like witch was synonymous with leper, in her case at least, and now he wanted… What? He’d used the word mate with her father, had insisted here in her kitchen she belonged to him. That shoved her anger into fury. She’d fled the only home she’d ever known because she refused to be owned by any man. Not her father or some man he chose for her, and sure as hell not a werewolf who held her in nothing but contempt.

  “Get over yourself, Jonas,” she snapped. “I don’t owe you any explanations.”

  For a moment surprise crossed his face, and he arched that damned eyebrow again. “Got a backbone after all.”

  She finally succeeded in jerking free of Mick’s grip and hopped off the table, clinging to the towel so she didn’t give anyone a show. She nodded at Mick, trying to completely ignore Jonas in the process.

  “Thank you for helping with the scratches. Y’all can show yourselves out.”

  She didn’t quite run from the room, but she didn’t give either of them a chance to stop her either. In her bedroom, she slammed the door behind her and leaned back against it. It was a long time before her heart slowed to normal, before she quit trembling. She dressed and sat on the edge of the bed, wiping damp palms against her jean-clad legs while straining to hear sounds in the house.

  Had they left? She hadn’t heard any doors shut, but she didn’t hear any movement or voices either. Her stomach rumbled, and she glared at the door. Was she really reduced to hiding in her room in her own damned house? No way. She jerked the door open and stomped down the hall.

  Chapter Seven

  “Good job, man.”

  Jonas stiffened but didn’t respond to Mick. He walked to the fridge and opened both doors. There wasn’t much. TV dinners, salad makings. Certainly not anything that appealed to two werewolves.

  “The woman has no food,” he grumbled.

  She had dangerous curves, curves that made his mouth water and all the blood in his body rush to his cock. There was no way she’d keep them if she continued to eat this crap. Scowling, he shut the door. Actually, she’d dropped a few pounds since her arrival. Why hadn’t he noticed before? He turned to face Mick.

  “I’ve got steaks at home. I’ll go get them. Be right back.”

  But Mick didn’t move out of the doorway to let him pass. Jonas grunted. “What?”

  Mick cocked an eyebrow. “I’m not the one with the problem. She’s not a soldier. Quit treating her like one.” He hesitated. “She’s not Liza.”

  All the air rushed out of Jonas’s lungs. He had to take several deep breaths before he could speak. “Believe me, I know that. And I’m not comparing her to Liza. She doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  He’d thought he loved Liza once, but once he accepted she’d never be his, that feeling had faded. Eventually he’d realized it wasn’t Liza he wanted in particular, but a woman like her. Strong and fierce and independent. Yeah, he felt protective and possessive of Harper. Hell, he felt that way about most of the pack. It was just part of his nature. But he never counted on having a mate who couldn’t match him in strength of will, if not physically.

  Harper, lovely and appealing as she was, didn’t have the fortitude to stand up to him. Sh
e didn’t have the will to rein him in when he went way overprotective, and he knew he would. She would never be an equal partner the way Mick was.

  He’d been in a nonstop struggle with his wolf side since she’d shown up. It wanted to claim her and protect her. It wanted to possess her, and not doing so just pissed it off. Jonas was struggling for control, and the wildness in him was winning. Harper couldn’t handle it, as clearly evidenced by her fleeing the room.

  But even knowing that, knowing she couldn’t take the wolf and she wasn’t what he’d expected, he no longer had the willpower to walk away. She was his. Eventually, she’d come to grips with what he was. Maybe. Hopefully.

  Perhaps with the right kind of encouragement she’d grow into the kind of woman he needed at his side. Perhaps with time the damage done in the past to her self-esteem, her spirit would fade. He sincerely hoped so. He didn’t want a doormat for a mate.

  “Jonas?”

  He shook his head. He knew Mick wanted to know what was on his mind, what kept holding him back, but he wasn’t ready to discuss his fears. Sometimes he wanted Harper so badly he shook with the force of it, and admitting he was afraid she might never accept him, accept his wild side and be able to tame it was more than he was capable of yet. Just knowing how deeply his passion ran would probably scare her off.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he told Mick and then stepped out the back door.

  *

  They hadn’t left. She stood frozen in the hall and listened in. So that was it. Jonas might have wanted her, he couldn’t hide the desire she sometimes saw lurking in his eyes, but he was in love with someone else. When he left by the kitchen door, she moved into the light. Mick turned around with a sigh.

  “How much did you hear?”

  “Enough.” The bottle of rum and her untouched glass were right where she’d left them. She walked over, turned to lean against the counter, and lifted it to her lips. “How long has he been in love with Liza?”

  For the first time she felt a bit of sympathy for Jonas. Liza was incredible. Harper felt familial love for her and a hell of a lot of gratitude for Liza’s having taken her in. She was strong and confident and outspoken. In short, everything Harper was not. But unfortunately for Jonas, anyone could see she was totally in love with Caleb and Zach. Harper swallowed the liquid, enjoyed the slight burn as it slid down her throat.

  “That’s gotta suck for him,” she went on softly.

  “He’s not in love with Liza.” Mick shook his head. “And I shouldn’t be discussing it with you. Jonas needs to tell you what that’s about.”

  He didn’t have to. “I’m nothing like her.”

  “No. You aren’t. Why should you be? She grew up here. She was always loved. Never abused.”

  It was only years of practice that kept her face calm, kept her from flinching. She didn’t fool him for a minute.

  “How bad, Harper?” he asked the question so softly, so gently with a voice thick with compassion, not pity, that she almost gave in to the instinct to rush over and cling to him. She was so tempted to steal a moment of time, a few minutes of comfort, and she knew he wouldn’t deny her. “I saw the scars on your legs.”

  Tempted, but in the end she wasn’t able to let her guard down so much. She let her chin drop to her chest, stared at the floor, and shook with years of repressed fear and anger and self-disgust. She was smart enough to know it wasn’t her fault. Not one of the many times her father had raised a hand against her had it been her fault. But it was damned hard to not hate herself for not getting out, for not saving herself and her brother all the big and small humiliations accumulated over a lifetime.

  She looked up to meet his gaze. “It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m free. Dane is free.”

  And she would continue to rebuild herself bit by bit. She’d stood up to Jonas, hadn’t she? She was getting braver about risking smart-ass retorts when he slung his subtle insults her way. She was under Liza’s protection, and she was pretty sure even if she hadn’t been, Jonas wouldn’t have hurt her. For the first time in a very long time, she experienced a sense of empowerment.

  The door opened before Mick could push her for any answers, and Jonas walked in with three reusable shopping bags filled to bulging. He must have run to his house and then packed like a maniac. She arched her eyebrows when without a word he started to unpack and fill her small freezer, fridge, and pantry.

  “Are you planning to feed an army?”

  He grinned at her over his shoulder, and her stomach did a slow flip-flop. Wow. He didn’t have a right to look so hot when he spent 99 percent of his time trying to annoy her.

  “Werewolves eat a lot. Especially fully grown male wolves.”

  “Maybe it escaped your notice, but I’m not a werewolf. Or male. There’s no need to fill my kitchen.”

  He swept a critical eye over her. “You’re not eating right.”

  The comment surprised her speechless. For the first time in her life she was losing weight. And she’d stumbled across the only male in creation who didn’t appreciate that? She wasn’t sure if she should be insulted or kiss him in thanks. She shrugged, going for nonchalance.

  “I’ve lost a few pounds. It won’t kill me to lose a few more either.”

  Jonas growled and with two long strides was right in front of her, so close his chest brushed against hers. It was damned hard to hold back a moan of longing. He put his hands on her hips and pulled her flush against him. There was no way to miss his erection, hard and hot even through his jeans.

  “It might kill me,” he said before leaning down and nipping her neck. His hands slid around to mold her ass, and this time there was no way to hold in her moan. “I like your body like it is. I love your curves.”

  He nibbled her throat, searing a path up over her jaw to her lips. The kiss was slow and teasing. Coaxing. He broke away gradually with little bites and licks. Her heart raced, and her body went into a slow meltdown. He was being nice. He was being…seductive. He was sending major mixed signals, but how the hell could she resist him like this?

  With a wink he stepped away and rummaged in the lower cabinets for cooking pans. Her fingers hovered over her lips. She might prefer him grumpy and snarly. In a good mood, with a teasing smile, he was too damned enticing. He’d lull her into a sense of security and then morph back to the big bad wolf, wouldn’t he?

  Mick, who hadn’t said a word, came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. His chin rested on her shoulder.

  “He’s nice when he’s like this,” he teased.

  “When does he turn back into a pumpkin?”

  Mick laughed at her joke. His tone was light, but she wondered if his next remark was serious. “When he does, it’s just because he’s trying to keep up his macho image.”

  This time she laughed. “Is that why? You mean he’s not just mean tempered?”

  Jonas turned from the counter, where he was cracking eggs into a bowl. “You really think it’s wise to harass the chef?”

  She grinned. “Maybe not. But it’s kinda fun.”

  And she hadn’t had nearly enough fun in her life. Not enough of this teasing banter. A look crossed his face that made her suspect he knew that.

  He nodded. “You get a pass. This time.”

  “Don’t listen to him,” Mick whispered close to her ear. “He likes it when you sass him.”

  It was hard to concentrate on his words with his lips so close to her skin. Especially when he left a trail of kisses down her throat and over the exposed part of her shoulder. His fingers tugged the collar of her V-neck sweater out of the way, and he continued the soft kisses across her shoulder. When he dipped his hand down her torso and under her sweater to cup her breast, she gasped, arching against him when he shoved her bra down.

  She stared down at herself, knowing she should protest. Her breast rested on top of the bunched-up cup of the garment. He held the weight in his hand, stroking the skin above her nipple with his thu
mb. His fingers were lightly calloused, rough and sensual on her smooth flesh. Her eyes slid closed, only to snap open seconds later when Jonas spoke.

  “Beautiful,” he murmured, his voice rough with lust.

  Then he leaned forward and sucked her nipple into his mouth. He was gentle. She wasn’t sure if she wanted gentle. She tunneled her hands through his hair, holding him to her. He increased the pressure, the suction until he was taking long pulls. She shook when she felt teeth. Her hands slid to his shoulders, fingernails digging as she struggled to stay upright.

  She needn’t have worried. Mick held her with one palm on her belly. Under her sweater. His palm felt hot and fevered. She didn’t notice he’d unsnapped and unzipped her jeans until his finger slid through her slick folds.

  “Oh gods,” she moaned.

  He nipped her shoulder hard enough that it should have hurt. “Should I stop?”

  “Don’t you dare.”

  He chuckled, spread the lips that hid her pussy, and pushed one finger inside her. Then a second. He thrust them in and out, building up to a fast, even rhythm, each withdrawal scraping over sensitive, inflamed tissue.

  Jonas switched to her other breast, pushing her bra down to expose her and stare a moment. She swore she could feel the heat of his gaze on her skin. He took her nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and she started to quake. Mick’s fingers fucked her harder. Faster. When his thumb grazed her clitoris, she bit her lip and fought the orgasm rising in her body. She wanted to come, but this felt too good to ever stop.

  “Let go, sugar,” Mick said gruffly. “Come for me now. I want to feel you on my fingers.”

  She would have been able to hold it off if not for that order. She’d always longed for a take-charge lover. Someone who would dominate her with loving protectiveness, not cruelty. She quit fighting the sensations in her body. It was like a dam breaking, flooding her with pleasure, pouring through her body until it almost hurt, and she cried out.

  They didn’t give her time to enjoy the warm glow that suffused her. Mick’s fingers were suddenly gone. He pushed her jeans and panties down so they pooled at her ankles.