Taming the Moon

by Sherrill Quinn

  “Ryder?” Pelicia looked from Declan to Sully and back again. “But this Eddy person wants to kill Ryder.”

  “He wants to kill all of us, darlin’,” Declan reminded her dryly. “But it’s Ryder he wants the most, which makes me think that this…Eddy person, as you call him, is none other than Miles Edward Hampston the Third.”

  Olivia saw Sully’s eyebrows raise and a flash of recognition cross his face. Pelicia also seemed to know whom her fiancé was talking about, so Olivia was the odd one out. “Um, just who the hell is Miles Edward Hampston the Third?”

  Sully approached her. She didn’t bat him away, so he put one arm around her and tugged her close. His body heat warmed her, comforted her, and she slid her arm around his waist. She rested her head against his shoulder. Just for a moment, she told herself. I’ll lean on him for a minute or two. Then I’ll go back to being strong.

  “He’s Ryder’s cousin. He wanted to be a werewolf from the time he was a boy and first found out about Ryder’s…condition. Or, rather, the condition he’d inherit upon turning twenty-five.” Sully’s breath stirred her hair just before he placed a tender kiss on the top of her bent head.

  She pulled far enough away to look up at him with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

  “Ryder’s werewolfism—is that a word?” he asked, glancing at Declan.

  The other man grinned. “The proper term is lycanthropy.” He shrugged. “I practically read his entire bloody library, learnin’ what I could about this…thing we have. Some of it’s utter rubbish, of course.”

  “What about the non-rubbish parts?” Olivia asked, beginning to lose patience. Damn, but this Irish devil could spin a tale out until it was threadbare.

  “Werewolves are either born or made. Werewolves who are born usually come about because of a curse of some sort.” Declan shifted his stance, straightening away from the wall. “Ryder’s great grandfather was cursed by a cail-leach—an Irish witch—because he turned down her daughter’s hand in marriage.” He grinned. “From the description of that old biddy, I’d have turned the daughter down, too.”

  “O’Connell!” Patience never being one of her virtues, Olivia straightened, dislodging Sully’s arm from her shoulders, and took a couple of steps forward. She clenched her fists to try to retain her control. The wolf struggled to be let loose, to do something it rarely got to do—beat up on someone. And she didn’t care who that someone might be—either of the other two wolves in the room would do.

  Focus on your breathing, girl. In, out. In. Out. “Would you please stick to the point? It’s my daughter’s life we’re talking about here.” She looked at Pelicia. “God, how do you put up with him?”

  “It’s bloody hard sometimes,” the blond woman murmured, unsuccessfully hiding her grin as she sent a sidelong glance to her fiancé. “But I manage.”

  “Well, I guess he has other, less obvious virtues that redeem him,” Olivia muttered. “Because this smartass routine is fucking irritating.”

  “How can you not know this stuff?” Declan asked. Dark brows drew down in a frown. “You’ve been a werewolf longer than we have.”

  “I haven’t had much”—she shook her head—“I haven’t had any freedom to do anything other than go to work and come home again for the last few years. Eddy keeps me and my daughter under his thumb.”

  “No Internet connection?”

  “No nothing.” She sighed. “I tried to use the school computer a couple of times, but when the administrator asked me why I was researching werewolves and was it job related”—she shrugged—“I didn’t want to put anyone else in danger, and telling her what was going on wouldn’t have accomplished anything other than to get myself fired for being a crazy person. How would I have explained that to Eddy?” She bit her lip. “I didn’t push it too much because of Zoe. Not that that helped.” Olivia swallowed, trying to ignore the gnawing fear for her daughter. She knew Eddy wouldn’t harm Zoe while he thought Olivia was doing his bidding, but the second he believed Olivia had stepped out of line he would act. Brutally and without hesitation or remorse.

  She’d seen him do it before to other pack members’ families. She wasn’t about to let him do it to her child. Not while she still had a breath in her body.

  She looked at Sully. God, had she made the wrong decision? Should she still try to kill him?

  That would satisfy Eddy, for the moment at least. And it might give her time to figure something else out—a way of escape, a way to get her daughter out of from his sphere of influence.

  And what then? Even on the remote possibility that she could kill Sully, a man—werewolf—stronger than her, what were the chances of escaping from O’Connell with her life? And if she wasn’t around to protect Zoe…

  In twelve or fourteen years’ time Eddy would turn Zoe into the same soulless creature he was. He’d have a dozen or so years to mold her into the kind of woman he wanted her to be. Without her mother’s influence, Zoe wouldn’t stand a chance.

  But if Olivia killed Sully, what message would that send to her daughter? Because eventually Zoe would find out. One way or another, secrets always had a way of coming back to bite you in the ass.

  “I don’t think I like the way you’re looking at me, love.” Sully cocked his head to one side. “Having second thoughts?”

  She drew in a sharp breath. “Of course not,” she denied, trying her best not to look guilty. Time to steer the conversation back to Declan. “You were saying about werewolves being born that way?”

  Declan gave a short nod, as if recognizing the very thin wire her emotions teetered upon. “Every male of the Merrick family becomes a werewolf upon his twenty-fifth birthday—the age Ryder’s great grandfather was when he was cursed. Ryder had no choice but to become a werewolf, as will any male children he has.”

  “You and I didn’t get a choice, either, remember?” Sully scowled and crossed his arms.

  Olivia tamped down her guilt. The last thing she needed was for him—any of them—to see that on her face. Too many questions that she didn’t want to answer. Not yet.

  “Oh, bloody hell. Let it go, boyo.” Declan shook his head. “There’s no use cryin’ over spilled milk, now is there?”

  Olivia saw Pelicia’s lashes flicker, then the other woman excused herself with a murmured, “I’ll just go put on more coffee.”

  As soon as she was out of the room, Declan threw up his hands. “Now look what you’ve done.” After sending a frown Sully’s way, he followed after Pelicia.

  Sully heaved a sigh and looked down at the floor. “Sorry. It’s just”—he muttered a curse—“I hate this. This constant feeling that I’m about to spiral out of control.” He looked up, his green eyes glistening. “And the knowledge that I’d fucking enjoy it.”

  “I’m sorry.” The words were out before Olivia could stop them.

  “For what?” Sully turned toward her.

  For making your life a nightmare was what she wanted to say, but didn’t. Couldn’t. “For what you’re going through,” she finally offered.

  He must have thought it was lame, too, because he rolled his eyes. “Oh, thanks for that. I appreciate it.”

  The wolf surged inside her, howling with pent-up rage. “Hey! I’m not the one who made you take a vacation in the Isles of Scilly in the middle of a bunch of werewolves.”

  “No, you’re not. Declan is.” He shook his head. “No, that’s not true, either. I did it as a favor and, even knowing what I know now, I’d do it again to keep Pelicia safe.” He frowned and stared at her. “How did you know I was on holiday when it happened?”

  Oops. Think, think, think.

  “Pelicia mentioned it earlier, when the two of us were in the kitchen,” she lied. “When we were making coffee and having a chat between us girls.”

  He seemed to accept that. She just hoped to God he didn’t ask Pelicia later, because it had never happened. She couldn’t tell him she knew about his vacation because she’d been there.

&nbs
p; “So,” Olivia went on, desperate to turn the conversation, “your friend Ryder was born a werewolf?”

  Sully nodded. “I didn’t know anything about it until after I went to the Isles of Scilly to help Dec protect Pelicia.” He pursed his lips. “Then I found out at the same time that Dec had just been turned.” He huffed out a sigh. “Well, looks like I’ve joined the club, too.”

  “What club would that be?”

  “The Hair Club for Overachievers.”

  She pressed her lips together against a grin, but couldn’t maintain her sober expression for long.

  “Go ahead,” he said on a sigh. “I’d be punching holes in the walls if I didn’t find something to laugh about in this mess.”

  Just that quickly her humor fled. How could she be so jovial when her little girl’s life was in danger?

  “Anyway, I think Declan has the right idea. We should have Ryder come to Tucson. That’ll flush your boy out of New York and get him here on our turf.” Sully walked over to a leather recliner and plopped down. He yanked on the lever and raised the footrest, stretching out with a sigh. “Well, out of his own territory, at any rate. It’s not like he’d bring the entire pack with him, right?”

  One could never tell with Eddy, but she doubted it. “He’ll have a few of his ‘lieutenants’, as he likes to call them,” she said. God, but she was tired of living like that—the constant fear, agitation, uncertainty. She rubbed the back of her neck and headed toward the sofa.

  “Come over here with me,” Sully murmured, holding out one long arm.

  “All right, but behave yourself. I don’t want to be embarrassed in front of Declan and Pelicia.” She changed course and settled onto Sully’s lap, her legs dangling over the side of the recliner.

  “Well, between the four of us, we can take out a few of Eddy’s lieutenants.” He leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. “This is nice.”

  Olivia had to agree. It was the kind of thing she and her late husband used to do after he’d had a hard day. They’d snuggle after dinner and just be together. No need for words; just each other.

  She was amazed that she not only wanted this with Sully after knowing him for such a short time, but that she needed it, too. The feel of his breath tickling the hair at her temple, his arms holding her securely with gentle strength, the reassuring thud of his heart against her palm.

  The growing hardness beneath her buttocks.

  She grinned and wiggled a bit. Just to get more comfortable.

  “Enjoying yourself?”

  She glanced up to see one of his eyes was open. The corners of his mouth twitched, and she laughed. “I am, as a matter of fact.” Even though she felt divided—worrying about Zoe one minute and doing her best to give Sully a hard-on the next.

  He closed his eye. “It’s worth the torture to hear you laugh.”

  Olivia looked at him, seeing lines of strain feathering from his eyes and his mouth, and wanted to ease the burden she’d placed upon him. Leaning up, she kissed one side of his mouth, then the other. She planted soft kisses along the sculpted edge of his jaw to his ear and followed the firm tendon that ran down the side of his neck.

  “You know, it occurs to me,” he whispered without opening his eyes, “this would be a prime opportunity for you to rip out my throat.”

  Her breath hitched, and she stilled. It would. And she should take it, for Zoe. But she couldn’t. Also for Zoe.

  And for herself.

  “We have another plan now, right? Or will, anyway.” She moved her mouth to the hollow of his throat and touched her tongue to the dip there.

  She felt him shudder, his erection pressing against her buttocks. She’d love to take it farther, to feel his thick length inside her again, but not with Declan and Pelicia in the other room.

  Olivia frowned and lifted her head. Come to think of it, she hadn’t heard anything from the kitchen since Declan went in there. She focused her attention, and her frown deepened when she realized that they weren’t in there.

  “They went to their room.”

  She looked at Sully, who had lifted his head and looked at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

  “About two minutes after Dec went into the kitchen,” he added. His hands slid up her back. “So it’s just you and me.” He drew her closer.

  An inch away from his mouth she murmured, “I am not making love to you on their recliner.”

  His breath wafted over her face, warm and smelling faintly of coffee. “But you will make love with me?”

  “Yes.” She could resist him no more than she could resist taking her next breath. With his hands at her hips she jumped out of the recliner.

  He kicked down the footrest and stood, taking her hand in his. The trip from the living room of Declan’s house to the small casita out back took only a few seconds. Ripping off their clothes took even less time.

  Growling his pleasure, Sully nipped at Olivia’s lips. When she reached around and grabbed his buttocks to hold him against her, he moaned. Pulling away from her, he picked her up and tossed her onto the bed.

  She landed with a bounce, her soft laughter echoing in the room. She held out her arms in sensual invitation.

  He paused, getting his first real look at her nudity. Her pink-tipped breasts billowed above a narrow waist and generous hips. Dark hair flowered between creamy thighs.

  Sully came down on top of her and kissed her, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to mate with hers. Her hands came around him, and he felt her fingers flex into his back. She moved her legs restlessly, and he slid between them, his cock stiff against her belly.

  Drawing back, he braced himself on one elbow and brushed the hair away from her face. He skimmed his fingers along the curve of her eyebrow, over long, silky lashes, across satiny lips. Then he curled his hand around the back of her neck and smoothed his thumb along her jawline just below her ear.

  There was strength there, too, yet fragility. He knew he could snap her neck with ease, and the fact that she trusted him enough to be vulnerable to him made his gut clench.

  The fact that he was just as vulnerable to her didn’t escape him.

  Olivia’s eyes heated to a slumberous amber, and her lips parted. “Sully.” She brought one hand to the arm braced at her side and the other to his face. She touched his cheek, his nose, the center of his chin, lightly, wonderingly, as if she couldn’t believe he was really there.

  Her teeth came down onto her lower lip as she brought her hand, and her gaze, to his shoulders. She traced the lines of his collarbones, pausing at the dip at the base of his throat. Then she trailed over his Adam’s apple to his chin, putting the tip of her finger beneath his lower lip.

  “What is it?” he whispered, stroking his thumb along her jaw.

  “I just…” She shook her head. Her gaze met his, that look of wonder still in her eyes. “If someone had told me a week ago that you and I would be like this”—she sighed—“I’d have told them they were crazy.”

  He smiled and pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Sometimes being crazy can be a good thing.” When her hands came up and clasped behind his head, fingers sifting through the short strands of his hair, he slanted his mouth over hers. Her lips clung to his, her fingers tightening in his hair as she held him as if she never meant to let him go.

  One kiss blended into another. Tongues twined and danced. Breaths mingled. His heart thudded against his ribs; an answering pulse pounded in his cock.

  He mouthed his way down her throat, scattering kisses across her chest. He tongued each stiff nipple before making his way down her flat stomach.

  He parted her legs wider, stroking his fingers in the moist folds between her thighs. She jerked when he touched her, a sharp cry of pleasure escaping her.

  Sully pushed a finger slowly inside her tight, hot sheath. At once her muscles clenched around him, velvet soft yet firm. And God! So wet.

  His cock swelled in response.

  Her hips pressed forward wantonl
y. He thrust another finger into her, stretching her, preparing her. More than anything, her pleasure mattered to him, after their first primal, rough mating.

  Her cunt pulsed for him, wanting, demanding, and he fed that hunger, pushing deep, retreating, thrusting again so that her hips followed his lead.

  “That’s it, love,” he breathed against her stomach. “Just like that. I want you ready for me.”

  “I am ready for you.” She panted, her slender hands grasping his hair, trying to pull him up to her. Or push his face farther down. She couldn’t seem to make up her mind.

  “No, you’re not. Not yet.” He dipped his head to her folds, tasting her, holding her flavor, her essence, on his tongue. Tart. Spicy. Hot and slick.

  Her breath hissed out, his name a whispered plea.

  He lifted his head and looked at her. “Open your legs wider, Olivia. I want to feast.”

  Her thighs moved farther apart. He pressed his finger into her again. She was tight and hot and wet, and he groaned her name before lowering his head to her once more.

  He licked his way up her folds, teasing and sucking at her until she was sobbing, writhing beneath him, thrusting helplessly against his mouth. He built her passion and gentled her, taking her higher each time so that her body shuddered with pleasure over and over.

  Sully knelt between her legs and guided his cock to the entrance of her body. She was unbelievably wet, her cream trickling down her thighs. He pushed his hips forward, saw the moist tip of his cock slide past the slick folds of her sex, and felt her, tight and hot, close around him. The sensation shook his control. “Olivia!” Her name burst from between his clenched teeth. He grabbed her firm ass and lifted her as he slid in another inch. “You okay?”

  “Fine. I’m fine.” Her eyes were bright, amber flecks sparkling in the blue depths of her irises. “I’d be better if you’d just hurry the hell up.” She reached down and grabbed hold of his ass, squeezing hard. “I don’t need soft and gentle, Sully. I’m not some delicate flower. I can take it. Give it to me hard.”