Lunar Mates Book 7:
Claiming the Moon
By
Loribelle Hunt
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Claiming the Moon
Copyright© 2009 Loribelle Hunt
ISBN: 978-1-60088-429-0
Cover Artist: Sable Grey
Editor: Leanne Salter
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
www.cobblestone-press.com
Dedication
To the love of my life, who stands by me always and no matter what.
And to a growing number of friends who support, cajole, and sometimes threaten me to keep writing!
Y’all know who you are so I won’t try to list everyone!
Chapter One
Shivering from the bitter March cold, Ellen looked over her shoulder and hurried up the walk to her condo door. She’d been edgy, nervous, for days, but couldn’t pinpoint why. The tiny hairs on the back of her neck rose as if someone watched her. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Clint had finally decided to claim her. Her stomach clenched as a wave of angry bitterness rose. Not likely. And she wouldn’t welcome if he did.
Once, she would have. Once, she would have taken him gladly. But he wanted nothing to do with her, had made it bluntly clear that she was too young, the differences in their ages too great. She grimaced. Well, she wasn’t too young anymore. She’d just passed her thirtieth birthday. There was a time when she’d argued that ten years wasn’t that big of a deal, but he’d refused to hear it. She’d eventually given up all hope that they would one day be together.
But when she saw him at Christmas at the Appalachian Alpha’s home, she’d thought he would finally give in. He’d been so territorial. Her pussy grew wet at the memory of the possessive heat in his eyes. Her keys trembled in her hands, and she lost her grip on them.
She bent to pick them up, fingers closing over them as someone grabbed her from behind. One gloved hand clamped over her mouth, while the attacker banded his other arm around her upper body, pinning her arms to her sides.
She stabbed the keys into his thigh, and he released her.
“Bitch,” he hissed, reaching for her while holding a hand to the wound, but she was already moving.
She spun around and rammed her knee in his groin. When he dropped to the ground, holding himself and moaning, she kicked him in the head hard enough to knock him out. With a grim smile, she turned back to her door and quickly let herself in. Clint had done one good thing for her. He’d made damn sure she knew how to defend herself. Of course, that was because he wasn’t willing to do it himself. She pressed her lips into a firm line, ignoring her hurt and bruised pride.
Inside, she locked the door and hurried for the phone. She hesitated over the nine button, then decided to call her boss first. She didn’t know if the man outside was a werewolf or not, but since she worked with the Hunters who tracked down rogues, she should get one of them to verify it first. Werewolves handled their own justice.
It was a brief conversation. When she hung up, she stared at the phone and dug her fingernails into her palms, fighting the instinct to call Clint. He was hundreds of miles away, couldn’t do anything, probably wouldn’t hold her even if he was there. She wrapped her arms around her waist and fought the tremors in her limbs, the sob clogging her throat. Told herself it was just a reaction to the adrenalin. But she recognized the denial for what it was.
Suck it up, Ellen. He doesn’t want you. Just get over it already.
The harsh pep talk helped, and she shrugged out of her coat. Anthony would be there in less than five minutes, he just lived a few miles away, and she had to pull herself together before his arrival. He’d already told her once that week that she looked like hell and had been getting worse since the few days she’d spent with the Appalachian pack. He wanted her to open up, talk about it, and get it out of her system. She snorted. Talking wouldn’t do a damn bit of good, so she’d just shaken her head and walked away.
She went down the hall to the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror over the sink. He was right about the other thing though. Her skin was paler, and there were black circles under her eyes from the lack of sleep. Hot, erotic dreams plagued her when she managed to get any rest, so maybe the insomnia was self-inflicted. Even her hair seemed to have lost its luster, the red duller than she remembered.
Sighing, she turned on the faucet and splashed water on her face. Nothing she could do about it right now, but maybe Anthony was right. Not about talking. What was the use in that? But the implication she had to get on with her life. She was surrounded by single, horny werewolves. Why not have a fling? See if she could get Clint Osborn out of her system once and for all?
Someone pounded on the door so hard she feared it would burst open, and she rushed down the hall, checking the peephole before opening it.
The werewolf on the other side was big, mean, and brutal when necessary, but he stared down at her with a worried expression on his face. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Well trained, remember?” To be fair, it wasn’t only Clint who’d trained her in self-defense. She sparred with Anthony regularly. She looked out the door behind him and thought her heart would stop. “Where is he?”
Anthony shook his head. “Gone. Pack a bag. You’re staying at HQ until we figure out what’s going on.”
She started to shake her head in refusal, but one look at his stubborn expression, and she knew it would be a waste of time. “Give me five minutes.”
She packed a bag quickly, tossed in her makeup bag, grabbed her laptop, and they were out the door. She locked it carefully behind her then put her things in the trunk of her car. Anthony followed her back to headquarters, which was actually a large, private estate.
Chapter Two
The kick only knocked him out for a couple of minutes. He awoke, head ringing, balls aching, and pissed as hell. He wanted to batter the door down, but he knew the female werewolf would have called for assistance as soon as she locked herself inside.
Gingerly, he got to his feet and lurched down the sidewalk to the full parking lot. He opened his car door with shaky fingers and slid inside. Hunching down, he waited, hidden in the gloom. Just in time.
The other werewolf, the one in charge of this small pack, pulled into the parking lot with a screech. He didn’t even bother to find a parking space, just left his car, motor running and blocking three others in. If Robert had been one of them, he would have snarled at the arrogance.
He watched the wolf-man run up the sidewalk and bang a fist on the door, watched him look around and take note that the assailant was gone. Sniff the air as if he could find him hiding in his car.
Robert sneered. The whole damned race was arrogant. They thought a superior sense of smell and heightened vision, extra speed and strength was all it took to be at the top of the food chain. They didn’t think humans were a threat, so they ignored them except as prey. A mistake they would pay for.
After several minutes, the two exited, got in their cars, and left. He knew they’d be returning to the mansion the male werewolf called home. Why he left his woman free to roam without protection was beyond Robert, and it should have worked to his advantage.
He started his car and followed them out of the lot, but went in the opposite direction. He drove to a narrow dirt path, barely wide enough fo
r his car, and turned down it. When he judged he’d gone a safe enough distance, he stopped. From the trunk, he retrieved the gear he’d need for this recon mission. The heavy black boots and night vision goggles. He hesitated over the scent inhibitor and decided to leave it. There wasn’t much of the concoction left, and he’d need it when he took her.
Walking into the woods, he followed a deer path he’d discovered on a previous trip. It ended at the fence that marked the werewolves’ boundary line. He scaled it easily and picked his way through the underbrush to the place he could watch, hidden by the tree line. The house was well lit, but quiet. He couldn’t see movement in any of the windows, but he knew they were there. Four adult werewolves. Four wolves who would pay for his wife’s murder.
He stayed until he heard another car arrive. One more to destroy. The need for vengeance burned through him, but he quietly melted into the darkness, back the way he’d come, with a silent reminder to himself. Not yet. The time would come, but not yet.
Chapter Three
A small, curious group of Hunters met Anthony and Ellen when they entered with her things. She left him to explain and went in search of an empty guestroom. She picked one on the second story at the end of the hall. It had a small balcony and overlooked the backyard.
Dropping her things on the desk, she considered finding a meal, but her stomach rolled at the idea. Her body wasn’t up to that yet. She lay down and closed her eyes, almost afraid to test the theory that when she did, she’d see the attacker again. But it wasn’t his image that rose in her mind. With a groan, she got up. Clint wouldn’t leave her alone, and he wasn’t even aware of it.
She hesitated over her bag. In a moment of insanity back at her condo, she’d dropped a vibrating egg in it. She considered using it now, desperately needing the sexual release, but she hesitated. There were too many werewolves with superior hearing and sense of smell in the house. They already looked at her with pity whenever Clint’s name came up. Their knowing she had no choice but to get herself off would be the final humiliation. But she couldn’t stay up here alone. The longer she did, the more tempted she became.
Maybe some company would help distract her. She left the room and went back downstairs, but paused outside Anthony’s door. It wasn’t closed all the way, so she caught his part of the conversation.
“Just thought you’d like to know that while you’re busy being self-righteous in Tennessee, your mate was attacked, asshole. Ellen is an incredible woman. I have no idea why you refuse to see that. But this shit is putting her in danger now.”
There was a long pause while she presumed Clint answered. She leaned back against the wall and put a chokehold on her anger. At Clint. At Anthony for calling him. The hell with this. She barged in, stopped in front of the desk, and held her hand out for the phone. He cocked an eyebrow at her silent, imperious demand but handed it over.
“Damn it, Anthony, answer me. I left her there to keep her safe.”
“She’s perfectly capable of keeping herself safe,” she said icily. “Which you would know if you were around.”
His tone changed, softened. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” No gentleness returned in her voice.
He sighed. “Put Anthony back on.”
“Why? For some reason he thought you should be informed. Consider that done.”
“’Cause I want to ream him a new—” he bit the words off, and she almost laughed, barely holding in the bitter response. His concern for her welfare didn’t generally go beyond keeping her away from him.
“Thankfully, you’re not here, so that’s not possible.”
“I’ll be there in a few hours.”
She felt as if he’d reached into her chest and squeezed her heart. It was painful. “Don’t bother. We have everything under control.”
“I’m coming. And don’t even think about taking off on your own, Ellen,” he warned.
She scowled. How the hell did he always seem to know what she was thinking? “Fine. Suit yourself. But you’re wasting your time.”
She heard a dinging sound, like a car door was open, and knew he really was coming. The knowledge filled her with a mixture of dread and hope, anxiety and anticipation. Shit. She had to get control of herself, had to be calm and resolute when he arrived. Otherwise, she’d do what she always did. Let her guard down, let her heart soften toward him again, only to be left alone to put the broken pieces back together. She tossed the phone to Anthony and spun on her heel, fleeing the room before the tears started.
* * * * *
Clint was in the grip of the worst rage of his life and thanked god when he finally crossed the state line. Twenty miles closer to Ellen. Twenty miles closer to keeping her safe while struggling to keep her at a distance. The idea infuriated the wolf half of his nature, and he knew it was going to be damned near impossible to restrain it, to leave her unclaimed.
He gritted his teeth, and his knuckles popped because he clenched the steering wheel so hard. He’d managed it for years by keeping his distance. If he didn’t have to see her every day, it could be done.
He hardened his resolve. She thought he was still resisting because of the age difference, but he’d gotten over that years ago. The truth was darker. Dirtier. He knew he couldn’t live with her one day turning and looking at him with revulsion, and it would happen. Mates didn’t keep secrets from each other. She knew he’d been the one to infiltrate the Society of rogues they hunted. She didn’t know that he’d had to become one of them to do it.
After thirty interminable minutes, he pulled up to the gate and punched in the security code. Tapping the steering wheel, he waited impatiently for the gate to swing open, and then closed behind him, before he drove down the long lane to the mansion. During the day, the gate was left open, but at night they were careful to make sure no one who didn’t belong there could get in. He left the car in the small parking area on the side of the house, grabbed his bag, and didn’t quite run for the front door.
He took a minute to compose himself before going in, but he still had the typical reaction when he entered. She’d lived in the house for years, worked there longer, and her scent permeated the air. She was leaning against Anthony’s office door, half in, and half out of the room. Form-fitting jeans and a white, tight, long-sleeved T-shirt that called attention to her full breasts and long, red hair showcased her tall, thin frame. He experienced the accustomed euphoria at seeing her. His mate.
She swung around, as if she felt his regard, and his gaze met green eyes almost the exact same shade as his. Her eyes were red-rimmed with dark circles under them. He knew she’d probably been crying because of him. The wolf in him snarled, threatening to rise to the surface. He ruthlessly forced it down. The man felt the heavy burden of guilt and was more determined than ever not to claim her. Fighting not to walk forward and take her into his arms, give her exactly what she wanted, he spoke to her from just inside the door.
“You look—”
“Don’t finish that sentence,” she said sharply, holding her hand up as if to ward off the blow of his words.
What the hell did she think he was going to say? He couldn’t sort it out yet, had to get his head back on straight. Nodding, he went upstairs, following her scent down the hall and stopping in front of the door where it was most concentrated. He entered, dropped his bag on the dresser, and looked around, noting her bag and laptop on the desk. He knew he shouldn’t be there, was fighting the instincts clamoring to move in with her, when she followed him in. He’d known she would, and didn’t know why he’d been crazy enough to come in.
Determined to exit and save her from a mate that didn’t deserve her, he took a step forward, and she shut the door. Leaned back against it. She looked at his bag, then cocked her head to one side and met his gaze. He nearly groaned at the hope he saw in her eyes. She thought he was finally giving in.
Guilt nearly overwhelmed him, yet he still struggled against the urge to claim her and damn the consequences. H
is wolf nature fought for dominance, and he knew she must be able to see that in his eyes because, as he approached her, she seemed to shrink back a little. There was the barest hint of fear in the air, and the wolf wanted to bare its teeth. She would not be afraid of him. He wouldn’t allow it.
He set his palms flat against the door on either side of her head and leaned in, giving in to the craving that got harder to resist every time he saw her. He bent his face to the hollow between her neck and collar, the place he wanted to bite, to mark as his so everyone who saw her would know to whom she belonged.
When he breathed deeply, dragging her scent into his lungs, the wolf caged in his mind crouched, sensing victory. His incisors erupted from his gums, sharp points that would break her skin, and he took a shuddering breath, forcing them to retreat. No. He wouldn’t do that to her. Give her no choice without knowing everything she was getting, forcing her into a relationship she wasn’t prepared for.
He appeased the wolf with a different kind of taste, licking the sweet skin he longed to bite, then kissing a trail of kisses up her neck. Across her jaw. To her lips. He stopped when he realized he was grinding his erection against her belly. Fought himself, his wolf, from claiming what was his.
“Don’t stop, Clint.” Her eyes were pleading, liquid pools. “Just once, love me the way a mate should be loved. I know you don’t feel the same way I do, but can’t you just pretend for one night?”
Shock ripped through him. Not love her? Was the woman insane? He stayed away, killing himself in little pieces, strangling his need, because he loved her so much. There was only one way to respond. He didn’t try to convince her she was wrong with words. That would really only make her more determined to fight him. Instead, he kissed her, trying to pour every ounce of the engulfing emotion he felt into it.
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