by Ines Johnson
Contents
Copyright
Front Matter
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Moonfall
About the Author
Other Books by Ines Johnson
Copyright © 2017, Ines Johnson. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Cover design by Yocla Designs
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition January 2017
ISBN: 978-1-944744-03-8
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Chapter One
Pierce watched the city retreat as the train picked up speed. The building spires shrank. The bright, fluorescent lights faded into the twinkling skyline and left behind the stars. Closing his eyes, he slumped down in his seat and took the first deep inhalation he’d been able to take in the last two months.
The aches and pains that had come from the back of his head colliding with a train track were a distant memory. The only thing that remained from the accident was a slight twinge in his neck when he turned his head too far to the right. Other than that, Pierce was back to himself, back by himself.
He looked down the long aisle of the train car. The crush of bodies moved about. Parents clamped their hands on the wrists of wriggling children. Couples walked in tandem down a single file lane, unwilling to let the narrow passage come between their love.
Pierce stretched out in his seat, alone in the booth at the back of the car. He turned his face away from the crowd. Instantly the crick in his neck sounded. He ignored it. It would soon pass.
He trained his gaze outside the window at the fast moving landscape. The Moon loomed large, ever present. In the darkness of the new day, the Moon’s rays called to his blood, to the eager wolf inside him.
His fingers uncurled from the fist he hadn’t realized he’d made. He pawed through the tight, even curls atop his head. He’d visited a barber before leaving Sequoia City. By week’s end, out in the wilderness, his mane would be wild once more.
The Alcede men were known to get the hairs of their first beards at age thirteen. Pierce was all Alcede. But unlike his father and older brother, who both had longstanding relationships with their razors, Pierce never troubled himself over the free roaming hair that covered nearly every area of real estate on his body.
Yesterday morning, his mother had dragged him to the barber’s, much like when he was a child. She insisted he look presentable for his journey. He’d joked that no one would see him but the animals. The skin had bunched around Karyn Alcede’s tired eyes. His mother’s jaw had clenched so hard he’d seen the cord in her neck pulse. Instead of responding, she’d patted his shoulder and then retreated to a corner to watch the hair fall from his head and face.
Now, alone in his seat, Pierce’s chest tightened. An ache rose in his throat as he tried and failed to suppress unspoken emotions. When he closed his eyes, he saw his mother’s quivering lip as she’d smiled up at him on the train platform. She’d run her hand through his close-cut hair. He felt his father’s steady paw at his back as Harold Alcede bid his son a safe journey. His parents hovered on the platform as the train pulled away.
From inside the train car, Pierce had seen his parents close ranks as he pulled farther and farther away from them. He saw the loss settle in their faces; all the while his breathing became lighter. He watched them huddle together to fill the void he left; all the while his heart became lighter. Lighter from the lifting of the burden of holding still, of staying put, of pretending he was anything but what he was.
The train pulled farther away and his parents became steady dots on the horizon. With each rotation of the train wheels, Pierce felt free, and the freedom weighted him down under a mountain of guilt. That guilt and lightness swirled in his heart as it always did at the start of a new journey.
Over the years, he’d tried to tamp down on his drive to run. But with each passing year, it only grew stronger. As the train picked up more and more speed, Pierce’s wolf danced in circles, excited to get out into an open space and run; run until his heart burst open. He’d rest, then he’d rise, and then do it all again. His hair would grow wild with no one to fuss over it. He’d have to keep himself safe with no one guarding his back.
At the increased chugging of the wheels, his ears perked up. His sharp eyes caught movement in the overgrown landscape outside the glass window. His fingers thrummed against the armrest. His foot tapped against the thin carpeting.
The tip of his nose was cold. He was flush to the window. His breath was an eager cloud on the glass. The condensation melted away from the pane, leaving behind a shape that looked like a heart.
Pierce smiled sadly. Love was the last thing in the cards for him. He’d finally accepted who he was; a lone wolf. His life would be spent roaming the lands of this wounded world. There would be no long-term attachments for him. No mate to share a narrow path with. No cubs that’d try to wriggle out of his hold.
He let out another breath. This time, when the condensation fogged the window, it didn’t leave a shape. It left no trace of him.
“Is this seat taken?”
The husky feminine voice called Pierce’s attention away from the window and up long legs, down dangerously curved hips, around high, pert breasts to end at a heart-shaped face engulfed in a halo of dark curls. The dark curls and lush curves marked her as a wolf.
Pierce cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He motioned with his hands for the she-wolf to take the place across from him. She struggled to lift her luggage into the overhead compartment. Pierce stood to offer assistance.
“I’ve got it,” she insisted and hefted the bulk over her head with a grunt.
Pierce stepped back. He was used to strong, independent women. He’d been surrounded by them his whole life. He took no offense that this woman didn’t want his assistance. That didn’t mean he wasn’t a gentleman. He waited to be sure she’d secured the case. Then he waited some more until she was seated.
When she’d finished with her case and stepped into the booth, she stopped in front of her seat and blinked at him. Confusion and then irritation played across the angles of her beautiful face. Her brows rose to her hairline. She tilted her head towards his seat. When he failed to sit down, she motioned with her hand.
Pierce flustered down into his seat, averting his gaze. Had he made a mistake? Perhaps she wasn’t a wolf? Perhaps she was a witch?
It wouldn’t be the first time he’d mistaken a witch for a wolf. His last encounter with a witch -on a train no less- had led to a wedding. It had nearly been his own wedding. Until his older brother, Jackson, had stepped in and claimed Luci
a as the mate to his soul. The wolf and witch lived happily in a quaint, little cottage in the woods back in Sequoia.
With Pierce now in his seat, the woman sat. She crossed those mile long legs. Then she cleared her throat.
Pierce blinked. Then he realized; he’d been staring. That’s when he knew she wasn’t a witch. Had she been one he’d have been under a spell by now.
He looked up to offer a sheepish apology. When his eyes met hers, his breath caught in his throat. Beneath the halo of dark, thick hair she had eyes of the lightest blue. Pierce had seen the ocean of the Arctic. That body of water was a dark, murky swamp compared to the crystals set deep in this woman’s face.
He was a lone wolf, prone to roam. He was also a man with needs. Both man and wolf salivated at this woman before him. He was certain his interest was plain. He heard himself panting. His mouth watered. He brushed his thumb at the corner of his lip to capture the drop of evidence.
In response, the she-wolf closed her eyes and sighed. Her foot tapped an irritated song on the floorboards. She turned her head and focused her attention outside at the scenery.
“This is beautiful countryside,” he tried.
They were now far from Sequoia and nearer to the Mexican border.
“Yes,” she said. She turned her head from the window and produced a book from the bag in her lap. She held the book up in front of her face, blocking him from her beauty.
The terse response indicated that she wasn’t interested in him. It should’ve turned him off. It didn’t. The last thing he wanted was an entanglement. Her disinterest in him would serve him well. If he could flip that disinterest, and by extension her, on its back for the morning.
Pierce rarely went for she-wolves. The hot-blooded females could form attachments with males who were not their mates. It was in their natures.
He saw no bite marks on her collarbone. He scented no other wolf on her skin. Though he noted a male scent: probably human. Wolves played with humans, but they didn’t mate for life. Which meant she likely wasn’t looking for any entanglements herself. If he could just capture her attention, he might spark her interest.
“I hope you don’t mind my saying,” he began, a wolfish smile on his face. “But you have the most beautiful-”
“You know, I’m perfectly fine if we dispense with all the niceties and sit here in companionable silence.” She said it with the most polite, most beatific smile.
That smile made Pierce’s blood pump and his cock harden. He’d give her anything to keep her smiling at him like that. “If that’s what you wish.”
“It is.” She aimed the smile pointedly at him.
From his peripheral view, he caught a look at the stupid grin on his face in the glass window. “Then that’s what you’ll have.”
“Thank you.” She pulled the book up, hiding her smile and those eyes, breaking the spell.
With her smile gone, Pierce’s grin turned into a frown. He read the cover of the thick book in her hands; Sheep Health, Husbandry, and Disease. He doubted it was for pleasure reading. Perhaps it was a textbook? Maybe she was a student? Sequoia University was near the train station.
“Are you a student?”
She lowered the book and arrowed those light-colored eyes at him. “I thought we agreed to dispense with the niceties?” She smiled, but the facial expression was tight and full of annoyed patience.
His wolf wanted to poke it with his paw. “I can’t help it. I’m always nice. My mother raised a gentleman.”
Her false facade dropped at the word gentleman. “The only time males are gentlemen,” she practically spat the word, “is when they want to get up a female’s skirt.”
Pierce’s eyes darted to those long legs and up the hem of her skirt. By the time he made it back to her face, he knew he was caught. He put on his most winning smile. This smile had gotten him an A in Ms. Peckham’s Chemistry class even after he failed both the midterm and final exams. Fairies fell to their knees at this smile. Hell, even a witch had fallen under the spell of this smile. Pierce launched it at the wolf across from him.
Before he could put forth words, she opened her mouth to speak. Then she swallowed. She rubbed her hand over her flat abdomen. Finally, she lurched forward, vomiting in his lap.
So much for his A game.
Chapter Two
Viviane splashed water on her face for the third time, but the taste of bile still rested on her tongue. How had she gotten herself into this situation? She leaned her head against the cool surface of the mirror as the rocking of the train continued to toy with her unsettled stomach.
She looked at herself in the mirror. There were bags under her eyes from alternately crying all night and not sleeping at daybreak. She’d never considered herself a weak woman, not a damsel of any kind. Not with the family she came from. She was made from stock that would stand up to any man, even if he were ten feet tall and twice as broad. But it was an average man that had brought her down so low. There was no weapon she had, no strength she could muster, no argument she could draft to best him.
Viviane took a paper towel and wiped at her face. She tossed the towel and headed out of the bathroom. Glancing out the window, she noted that the scenery was beginning to look familiar. A forty-foot high Saguaro cactus rose into the night sky. Its arms stretched out like the branches of a tree to welcome her home.
Oh, Goddess. She was only an hour from her home.
Panic crept in as the train got closer and closer to Sonora. She had the sudden instinct to debark now, turn tail, and run the other way. But she had nowhere else to go. She couldn’t go back to Sequoia and face his uncaring, pitying eyes. Once she got home, and her family learned about the mess she’d gotten herself into, they would certainly turn her out.
Or worse. Her mother would insist she stay, and then the real torture would begin.
The train lurched and Viviane had to lean against a seat to steady herself. Her empty stomach protested with a groan. It wasn’t until she was on her way back to her seat that she remembered the guy whose night she’d ruined by offering up her last meal. He wasn’t in his seat when she returned. He’d likely moved to an entirely different train car after he’d cleaned himself up.
She felt awful for what she’d done to his pants. But, in her defense, he had been a typical man. Only interested in what was up her skirt. Not what was in her head, or what came out of her mouth. As soon as she showed she had thoughts in her pretty head, he’d turned and ran, just like any average man. Anger replaced the bile as she stood in the aisle looking down at his empty seat.
“Hey sweetie, why don’t you come over and sit with us.”
Viviane turned to see a pack of human frat boys on the other side of the car. It looked as though they’d just got on. Otherwise, they’d be giving her the side-eye along with the rest of the passengers who’d smelled her earlier performance.
“Come on.” One of the boys approached her. He was of average height with pale skin, brown hair, and brown eyes. He wasn’t gorgeous, but neither was he unattractive. He looked… average. “We don’t bite. But it looks like you do.”
Where was her roiling stomach when she needed it? These were the perfect guys to spit up on. But her stomach seemed to have remembered that she was made of stronger stuff. She was a Veracruz. She crossed her arms over her chest and prepared to tell the men off, just like any Veracruz woman would do.
“Leave her alone.”
Viviane’s gaze swung up to see her seatmate coming up behind the frat boys.
“I didn’t hear the woman say she didn’t want to sit with us,” said the lead frat boy.
“I didn’t hear the woman say she did,” said the wolf.
Viviane looked from the alpha male to the alpha wolf because she realized now that her former seat companion was definitely wolf and definitely alpha. He’d cleaned himself up, but she still caught the hint of digested sick on his pants.
“Excuse me, but the woman can speak for herself,” she said.
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“Well, come on over, puppy,” said the frat boy.
“Puppy?” She wrinkled her nose at the clean-cut smell of the human. “Shifters and dogs are not the same species. The same class; yes. But not the same family.”
The frat boy looked at her blankly. Viviane felt confident in correctly identifying his biological classification in the taxonomic hierarchy. Class of fraternalis. Family of Greek. Species of douche.
The douche grabbed at her elbow. “Let me introduce you to a new breed of fun.”
His clever quip didn’t change Viviane’s estimation of him. He was an average, thin-skinned, human male. Where did he get all of this bravado? Where did any of these average men who gave mediocre answers to complex questions get their unfounded confidence? She’d spent two years on a campus with them. For two years, she’d rolled her eyes at their ill-thought-out answers. For two years, she’d tried and failed to close her gaping mouth at their moronic notions and solutions.
And here was another mediocre male who brimmed with unfounded conviction. As a woman and a wolf, she had to work twice as hard to gain half her worth. And she’d still been trampled and used by a man like this one.
Viviane looked down at his stubby hands on her elbow. “You’re going to let me go,” she said after taking a deep breath.
The boy tightened his grip and gave her a tug in the direction he wanted her to go. “Oh come on, baby. I hear you wolf bitches like it rough. I’ll even use my teeth.”
True, ‘bitch’ was the scientifically correct term to classify her, and Viviane loved all things scientific and factual. But there was just something about a man calling a woman of any breed a bitch. She clenched and unclenched her fingers reaching for patience. Her wolf howled to get out and maul this little beast. But she couldn’t let her wolf out. Not for nine more months.
She made out a low growl. She was surprised it hadn’t come from her. It was the alpha wolf. His eyes flashed, and he reached for the boy. But the boy’s arm twisted away from the wolf. Little douche-boy squealed like a pig.