Leaning down, Russo grabbed Luna by the arm and forced her to her feet. He inhaled her cries, savouring them. “As much as I like the smell of your blood, I much prefer to be the one that draws it. It’s time you came home with me.” A low growl trickled from his lips.
“Not bloody likely,” Luna spat out, aiming a kick to his groin, putting all her strength into it. Russo winced but didn’t release her arm. Gritting her teeth, she aimed another kick, this time to his left knee, putting as much force behind it as she could. She repeated it, only for pain to explode in her stomach and all the oxygen fly out of her lungs. Russo pulled his fist out of her stomach and let go of her arm.
“Not very ladylike,” he admonished, glaring at her from where he stood.
“You’re not a gentleman,” she croaked, trying to draw in a breath that wouldn’t come. Her lungs felt as though they were hers and bright spots danced before her eyes.
A vice-like grip grasped her hair, pulling Luna back onto her feet. “The prophecy said you had to come with me for it to come true. I don’t recall any of it saying you had to be unharmed. I will drag you all the way to my territory if I have to, right after I fuck you in front of your brother’s corpse.”
“Fuck you, connard!” The anger within her blazed up and, gripping the hilt of the dagger tight in her hand, Luna lashed upwards. The metal sliced through his cheek, sending forth a burst of blood over her face, the crimson liquid warm against her cold skin.
Crying out, Russo released Luna, attempting to send her flying, but instead she just stumbled a few inches backwards. Without thinking, without hesitation, Luna sprang into action. All the moves Pierre had taught her, her body flew into them. Kicking, striking, parrying, her hands and legs constantly moving.
She was human, yes, but no werewolf would ever hold her down again.
Luna kept her movements going; a fist striking a jaw, her foot to the knee. Moving behind him, she lashed out again, her foot hitting the soft flesh behind his knee, the force strong enough that the delicate sound of a pop brought a dark smile to her face. The resolve to bring this creature to his knees kept her going. Her fist struck out again, her dagger slicing through flesh, although she couldn’t be sure where it landed.
The fire in her veins burned harder, faster, brighter, until it was lava that coursed through her body. All she knew was that she had to keep going. She had to be faster than her opponent. She would not let him take her. The rage inside her burned furiously, molten lava that rushed to her limbs, giving her the adrenaline to keep going. There was no way in hell he was taking her anywhere. She would not let him kill Michael, Chase, or anyone else.
Liquid pooled down her wrist, a warm torrent, but whether it was hers or not, she didn’t know. She didn’t care. She wanted his blood, and she was going to get it. Another streak of red shot past her face, her cheeks warming with the intense heat as it struck the werewolf in front of her. Russo dropped to his knees, grunting in pain, and Luna brought her dagger back. Aiming for his throat, she cried out, lunging forward, putting all her remaining energy behind it.
And fell through the air into the snow.
“It’s not that easy to kill me,” Russo gasped, his voiced edged with pain and anger as his eyes narrowed into tiny slits at her. “You’re just a pathetic human. You’re not enough to kill me.”
Luna caught movement to the side as did Russo, but it was too late. A blur of grey fur jumped onto Russo’s back, clamping its jaws around his windpipe and crushing it. Russo fell to the floor with a strangled gasp, his hands reaching up towards the wolf on his back, but Luna pounced on them, forcing them to the ground with all the remaining strength she possessed. An unexpected surge of warmth radiated from the weapon clutched in her hand. Fingers aching, and gripping the dagger tight, Luna brought it down.
Blood spurted up, washing her face in hot crimson liquid, as she drove the dagger into his chest. She brought her head down and glared into those golden eyes, the fire quickly losing its light as realisation dawned within them. “Yes, I am,” she whispered.
Epilogue
A warm breezed caressed Luna’s bare arms, causing a sigh to fall from her lips. It was the first sign of spring, a promise of things to come. Luna smiled, tipping her head back and closing her eyes, savouring the moment. They could all do with good things.
It had been a hellish month. A third of the family woods had burnt to the ground, the charred remains of the trees a testament to the pain and horrors it had witnessed. The trees that had sheltered so many within its lush green canopy had fled the raging fire, leaving nothing but lifeless sticks of charcoal in its wake. It had taken over twenty-four hours for the flames to die out, with firefighters from neighbouring towns pouring onto the property to get it under control.
Everyone had been surprised when the fire suddenly seemed to lose its intensity and finally die. Speculations and theories had spread throughout the ranks just as quickly as the fire had spread, but Luna knew that the magic behind the flames had simply run its course. Narrow beams of sunlight filtered through the blackened remains, giving it a somewhat haunted but mesmerising look.
Luna thoughts strayed back to that day. After killing Russo – and Chase removing his head from his body just to be on the safe side – the rest of the pack had turned up. Russo’s men had quickly succumbed to their own bloody fates, but none had time to luxuriate in their victory. The wailing of sirens infused their air, leaving them only minutes to discard the bodies.
Luna recalled the panic that had welled up inside her. How could they explain several dead bodies and broken cars? In the end, it hadn’t been necessary. Dagger still in her hand, her fingers seemingly refusing to let go of it, the enchanted blade grew hot. For a second, Luna imagined the heat would be enough to burn her and then she remembered what Chase had said when he gave it to her.
Stepping forward towards Russo’s body, she sunk the blade into the lifeless flesh. “Ignite,” she whispered. The heat from the knife rushed down the blade and poured into the werewolf’s body. Within seconds, blue-tinged flames consumed it. Another few seconds, all that remained of the psychotic shifter was floating away in the breeze.
“The rest,” Chase had choked out. Luna had barely had enough time to stuff the dagger under a rock beside the house before the fire engines and the sheriff had arrived on the scene. Briggs, stony-faced and hard-eyed had taken one look at everything and demanded to know what had happened.
Already healing well, Michael had spun a story about how he’d returned home to find a gang of young men smashing their vehicles, the woods already set ablaze. How they’d confronted them and ran them off. Briggs just listened to Michael but didn’t say anything. There was no evidence to suggest anything else. In the end, Briggs was forced to act on Michael’s words. A week later, after several communications with Michael’s lawyer, the charges of suspected murder were dropped.
Dealing with dead bodies and sheriffs were easier to deal with than her love life, Luna mused. Informing Pierre of how she felt about Chase was even harder than when she admitted her affair last year.
“I’m sorry,” she’d whispered, a single tear dropping from the corner of her eye. “I wish I could change everything, but I can’t.”
Pierre had closed his eyes, but Luna had caught the flash of pain in them before he turned away. “I had hoped that you would have chosen me over him, ma petite, but if this is what you want then I will respect your decision.”
“I do love you, Pierre, just not …” Her heart choked within her throat. It was so hard to breathe.
“Just not the way you love him,” Pierre had finished, his words layered in sadness. Releasing a long sigh, he turned around, putting on his neutral lawyer mask once more. “It is just as well, I suppose. I received a phone call this morning. It seems like an enemy of mine has made an appearance in Los Angeles. I’ll need to meet up with a guide in New Orleans.”
A knot formed in Luna’s throat, removing her of the ability to speak. Instea
d, Pierre had stepped forward, kissed her tenderly, and walked away.
Even now, three weeks after Pierre’s departure, Luna still missed him. He’d been a big part of her life, had taught her so much and had protected her. And she’d hurt him. Again. She didn’t deserve him, but she couldn’t deny how much she’d fallen in love with Chase.
Hints of cinnamon floated through the breeze, mingled with the scent of chamomile. As Luna twisted her body, Chase came into view. A smile spread across her face as those chocolate eyes smiled down at her, her knees melting under their intensity. Full lips dropped down, claiming hers in a soft embrace.
Chase was hers.
Her werewolf.
Holding the perfect cup of tea.
After all, some temptations just could not be denied.
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If you enjoyed Temptation of the Moon, you may like Intoxication. Read the first two chapters and dare yourself to fall in love.
Tara
“Welcome to Macau. The weather at present is a balmy eighty-six degrees Fahrenheit with a humidity level of seventy-seven percent. We hope you enjoyed flying with us and hope to see you soon.” The pilot’s upbeat voice was barely audible over the chattering and noise of the other passengers scrambling to be the first ones out of their seats and into the line.
Don’t these people know that they’re not going to get anywhere fast? Tara thought, shaking her head at the sight of everyone scrambling to their feet as soon as the plane stopped moving. No doubt everyone would be stuck in the middle of the aisle, clutching their oversized bags, trying to move a few measly centimetres at a time. Sighing, Tara settled back into her seat, stuffed her folder in her bag, and watched her fellow passengers do exactly as she predicted.
It was only when the last of the middle-aged businessmen, the exhausted parents struggling to hold onto the hands of overtired kids, and the lovely-dovey couples kissing every few minutes, had finally passed by her that Tara started to rise. At first, standing hurt. Muscles ached from underuse, and her entire body felt as though it was bruised. Arching her spine, Tara’s body welcomed the sensation of the simple stretch. Suppressing a sigh, she quickly made her way to the aisle and reached for her bags. A few minutes later, she thanked the stewardess standing at the door and followed in the direction of those in front, her heels clicking with every step.
Are you sure about this? the little voice in the back of her head whispered as she followed the overhead signs to passport control. You could always turn around. What do you really expect to find here? Fun? A holiday romance – don’t make me laugh. You couldn’t find that at home so what makes you think you’ll discover it here?
“Shut up,” Tara muttered underneath her breath, causing the couple in front of her to turn around and give each other confused glances. She tried to shake the doubts away, but that damned voice just knew how to grip the sides of her brain and lodge itself no matter how hard she tried.
What did she expect? She was now on the other side of the world, but what did she really expect to gain from this impulsive last-minute trip?
Peace. Fun. Just to get away from them. Closing her eyes, images of Greg sprang to mind. His sweet smile, those cornflower blue eyes that sparkled even the dark, those dimples that highlighted his cheekbones. His long roman nose always turned pink in the winter like a dog. Those lips that sent shivers racing along her spine and those large hands that always knew exactly where to touch. He was what her mother called the Golden One.
Mother always did love him. You could tell she liked him more than you, the voice whispered once more. It wouldn’t surprise me if she continues to see him even when you get back.
Now that Tara found herself agreeing to bitterly. It wouldn’t have surprised her in the least if her mother continued to have coffee with him in town. Both accountants for rival firms that sat next to each other, her boyfriend would find himself discussing cases with her mother during their lunch breaks.
Ex-boyfriend.
The thought left a bitter taste in her mouth. Ex-boyfriend. After five years, they were no longer together. After a year of dating, Tara had started thinking that they would eventually get married. Within three years, they had finally moved into a house. Life had been almost perfect. They’d live together for a few years, get married, have a baby, and live the good life.
But life was a bitch.
Life was a bitch that needed to be punched and kicked in the groin.
Shuffling forward, Tara waited as the couple in front bounded off to the passport control box. Huge grins threatened to split their faces as they sneaked in another kiss before taking back their passports and being waved through. If only I were that happy again, she lamented, quickly taking their place at the control box.
Handing over her passport, a wave of sadness flowed over her. Two weeks had passed since that day, and still the pain felt raw. Greg’s face popped up in her mind again, but this time so did Carly’s. White-blonde hair falling across Greg’s naked chest, hands entwined, Carly’s head thrown back in the heat of passion.
In Tara’s damn bed.
Pain fused with anger. Every time the thought of Greg flittered through her mind, it went straight back to that damn scene. And every time the pain lanced through her entire being. When was that image of them naked in her bed going to disappear? When would that pain finally ebb away so that she could make it through the day without crying herself to sleep at night?
“Miss? Miss? You may go through now.” A heavily accented voice snapped her out of her reverie. Looking down, Tara saw her passport thrust in her direction. Mumbling thanks under her breath, Tara clutched her bag tighter and hurried away from the booth where she could still feel a gaze on her back.
Look at you, still so stupid over him, the voice mocked. Everyone probably thinks you’re just another stupid foreigner. Wouldn’t surprise me if everyone’s having a right laugh at your expense.
“I’m really getting sick of you,” Tara muttered under her breath, annoyance sweeping through her at the sound of the voice. She longed for a way to silence the damn thing.
Glancing at the information board, Tara quickly found the carousel where her luggage would be arriving. Several minutes later, and in possession of her suitcase, she inhaled deeply and glanced around for her exit.
A sea of faces moved in an unseen current around her, flowing like a broad river down the aisles. Small groups would suddenly stop and cause a small whirl, but the others would simply flow around them and continue on their way. Old and young, male and female, people of all races gushed, racing to move ahead in their own lives. The air-conditioned building made it easy to breathe, but Tara could already feel the heat sweeping through from somewhere. The tiles gleamed underfoot, and light poured in through the many tall windows that stretched from one side of the building to the other. Children darted in and out, the frantic calls of their parents trailing behind in different languages. Grumbling rose in the air, and the eager voices of tourists swirled around her.
Stomach churning, and nervousness threatening to spark off that damned annoying voice again, Tara inhaled once more, clutching her suitcase tightly, and set off to find the exit. Movement from the side caught her eye, and a small giggling whirlwind rushed past her. Quick on its heels was a young Asian mother calling her child’s name. Shaking her head and smiling, and not envying the poor mother, Tara turned her head forward. An audible snap rang in her ears, and everything just stopped.
Eyes widening, the world seemed to stop. Time was slow, but fast. Her perception of time became distorted; everything slowed d
own until there was nothing but her and the air rushing past her cheeks, the blood racing in her veins. Her hands unclenched, reaching out but finding nothing but emptiness. Her bags fell from her clutches, and her gasps overshadowed the faint rustle of paper. Tara knew she was falling, knew that the ground would welcome her, and braced herself from the pain.
Only it never came.
Where there should have be pain, was warmth and strength instead. “Careful,” came a heavily-accented male voice from above. “You should look where you are going. Not everybody will catch you, even someone as beautiful as you.”
Gasping, Tara looked down. The reason for her fall was apparent. Several inches separated her heel from her shoe. “Damn thing. The heel has snapped off. That’s the last time I buy anything at the market ever again,” she vowed.
“I would suggest paying a little more for your shoes next time you shop. They will last longer, and you shouldn’t have any mishaps,” came the voice, a slight teasing evident in his tone.
Tara reached for the broken heel, trying to hold back the urge to throw the damn thing across the room in disgust. “You would think, but these things are always happening to me. I’m the only one in the world who can trip up the stairs and hit my head on the door within a few minutes of each other. I’m a nightmare!”
“Well, from where I’m looking, you look more like a dream.”
Finally glancing up, Tara inhaled sharply, unable to pull her gaze away. Dark whiskey-coloured eyes stared down from above her, the glint of humour evident as he gazed at her. He had the highest cheekbones she had ever seen, and his skin reminded her of crushed cinnamon mixed with cream. But Tara’s gaze was drawn to his lips. Full and the colour of crushed winter berries turned up at the corners, they were the perfect size to sink one’s teeth into. White teeth shone against his bronzed skin, showing off dimples on either side of his face. Sweet gods alive, he’s gorgeous. Immediately, Tara could feel the rush of blood pool to her cheeks as she realised his hands still had a firm grip on her arms as she lay between his crouched legs.
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