Howling Passion (Passion Moon 1): (A Shifter, Supernatural Romance) Page 2

  “Thank you kindly for your help, Sheriff.” You could help me anytime.

  “Call me Forrest. We're real informal here in Moonrise.” He tipped his Stetson hat to me. “I'm sure I'll see you around.”

  I pressed my thighs together. “I hope so.”

  I licked my lips, loving the way his butt rippled in his tight pants. He cut a sexy figure in his uniform. Forrest gave me a last, hungry grin before he tossed his hat into his SUV and climbed in.

  I had a good feeling about this town.

  Chapter Two: Miss Maggie

  I was glad for the cool breeze blowing down Spring Drive, the main drag through Moonrise. My cheeks still burned from the Sheriff. He was a hunky man. If he had asked me to coffee, I would have said yes in a heartbeat. I squeezed my thighs as I walked, my duffel bag slung over one shoulder. I had an itch I so wanted to scratch.

  I didn't even feel exhausted at the moment. My excitement had driven away the last two sleepless days, letting me stride through the streets of Moonrise with a buzz that was almost like caffeine. I touched my jeans pocket, brushing his card tucked safely away.

  I just might call him.

  Though I had a feeling he would track me down. I squeezed my thighs together as the memory of that hungry smile rose in my mind.

  And then I remembered Burt. My abusive ex had made me feel the same way. The first time I had met him, sneaking into the Blue Honkey with a fake ID, my body had been on fire. Listening to him sing on stage, his eyes focused on mine, roaming my body. The entire bar had faded away as I stared at him. He made love to me with those eyes. Twice I lost my virginity that night, once watching him sing, and the other in the back room after his performance.

  It had seemed so romantic. I learned my lesson later.

  Maybe Sheriff Forrest Daniels was the same. He was strong. I'd be hard-pressed to stop him from beating me.

  My exhaustion crept over me as these new thoughts plagued my mind. I couldn't let myself be a victim all the time. My momma was a victim. Wayne had beat her until the day she died. I promised myself I wouldn't make that mistake.

  Burt had blindsided me. At first, I thought I could change him. But when it got bad, at least I was strong enough to escape him.

  When I was young, maybe five, I asked my momma why she let Wayne hit her. “He just gets mad, that's all,” she would say, her fiery hair falling about her bruised face.

  “Why didn't you marry my daddy?” I whispered. I had to whisper because Wayne didn't like me to talk about my real father. “Then we could have been a happy family.”

  So many times I fantasized that my daddy would show up to save me. But he and my momma just had a one night stand. Though she was still in love with him. I could see it in her eyes every time she talked about him.

  “Your father, he was a traveler, Dakota, a roamer,” my momma would whisper whenever I asked about him. “A fiery passion was in his loins, driving his restless nature. I only knew him one night, but I'll remember that night until the day I die. We loved each other mighty fierce beneath the stars.”

  My father was probably just like Christian, some handsome-faced man that made my momma feel loved and, bless her soul, she ate it up. I didn't even look like him. I was a spitting image of my momma, except my eyes which were an emerald green. “Your daddy's eyes,” Momma always said when she looked in them.

  I blinked in surprise, realizing I had walked past my destination. My thoughts had been drifting like a tumbleweed. The Moon Tear Roadhouse, and its help wanted sign, were a block behind me. I was fixing to head out of town. With a yawn, I turned and marched back to the roadhouse, not letting my thoughts drift back to my momma.

  The roadhouse had faded, blue siding, the roof shingled with wood weathered gray. Smoke drifted from a round smokestack. A neon sign flashed with the bar's name over a crescent moon shedding a tear. Other neon signs filled the windows advertising beers. I pushed open the door and heavy metal music washed over me in a thudding wave. The bar was dim, lit by hanging lamps. A group of greasy men lounged at a table playing cards.

  A woman lounged with them, one boot on the table, and a predatory smile crossed her lips as her dark eyes fixed on me. I blinked at her direct stare. The men with her noticed, and they whistled at the sight of me.

  “Fresh meat,” laughed one guy wearing a bandanna. He stood up, his leather chaps creaking as he walked over to me. “Why don't you come join us for a friendly game.”

  I stood my ground, arching an eyebrow. “Then I'd have to sit next to you and have to smell that stench.”

  His bodies let out whooping laughter like a pack of howling coyotes. The woman kept smiling at me. The man I insulted glowered. “Now see here, woman,” he growled. “I was only bein' friendly. No cause to go and insult me.”

  “Is it an insult to state the truth?” I asked, arching my eyebrows.

  “I'd watch out,” barked one of his friends. “I can smell the trouble coming off of her, Earl.”

  “I ain't afraid of the Sheriff,” Earl answered.

  “Earl,” I said, glaring at the man. “You're making my stomach ill. Unless you want me vomiting on your clothes, which given how filthy they are might well improve them, get away from me.”

  “Now see here, woman! I ain't asking you. You're gonna have a seat and play some poker with us.”

  “Or what?” I demanded, staring him in the eyes. I was too tired to be scared. I had traveled across the country to escape a guy like Earl. I wasn't about to get caught by this asshole.

  “Or I'll—”

  “Do nothing,” a fierce woman bellowed behind me.

  Earl's face paled, making the dirt stand out even more.

  A stout woman tramped out of the back room, her graying hair pulled back into a severe knot. She folded her arms beneath her breasts and fixed Earl with a look that could have skinned a cat. Earl backed away, holding his hands out.

  “I was just talking to the young woman, Miss Maggie,” he answered. “That's all.”

  His buddies cackled louder. And why was the woman sitting with the assholes still staring at me. If she was a guy, I'd say she was checking out my body. Was she gay?

  Earl slinked back to his buddies, sitting down and picking up his cards. His mates laughed louder.

  “Don't mind the Donovan clan,” the stout woman, Miss Maggie, growled as she marched up to me. “They're more bark than bite.”

  I nodded, giving her a tight smile. I set my duffel bag down, trying to stifle a yawn. I was so tired. I just wanted a place to sleep.

  “You okay, honey,” Miss Maggie asked, reaching out to touch my hand, her fierce look fading into motherly concern.

  “Just been a long two days,” I said.

  She peered at me. “You running from a husband or a boyfriend?”

  “Boyfriend,” I answered. “I saw the help wanted sign, and...”

  Miss Maggie grabbed my arm, pulling me to the bar. I sat down on a stool and she walked around the bar. “Beer, honey?”

  “Thank you kindly for the offer, but I'm fine.”

  “You're not.” She grabbed a mug and filled with a frothy brew of Big Empty Ale. I had never heard of it. She set it before me. “The best beer you'll ever drink. Its on the house.”

  “Thank you.” I took it, taking a sip of the frothy brew. It had a strong head, but a smooth flavor, spiced with lemon. I took a deeper drink.

  “So you ran and don't have any money, huh?” Miss Maggie asked, her brown eyes boring into mine. “I've been there. Well, you're in luck. I'm in need of a new day waitress. My other girl married a feller in the army, and she's off to Germany. Course, you'd have to put up with those louts, but they'll stay away from you.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Why? They didn't seem to have a problem until you arrived.”

  “Earl's just the dumbest of the bunch. They won't want to cause any problems with the Sheriff.”

  “What does the Sheriff have to do with this?” I asked, my brow furrowing and my cheek bu
rning with the memory of his touch. “I barely know him. We just talked for a minute.” I frowned. “How do you even know I spoke to him?”

  “He left his mark all over you.” A fond smile crossed Miss Maggie's face.

  I must be really tired. This woman wasn't making a bit of sense to my sleep addled brain. And the beer wasn't helping. My eyes fluttered. I just wanted to sleep. The bar was warm, and even the thudding rock music faded as I sank down into...

  “What's your name?” Miss Maggie asked.

  “Huh?” I blinked, shaking my head.

  “What's your name, honey?” she asked again, a patient smile on her lips.

  “Kotie.”

  “Well, Kotie. If you want the job, it's yours. Pay's minimum wage plus tips. Though I wouldn't expect much from that mangy pack.” She shouted that last part and the Donovan boys all whooped like Miss Maggie had said the funniest joke.

  “I'll take it,” I said, sitting up straight. “I can start right now.”

  Miss Maggie arched a graying eyebrow. “What you need is a place to sleep. There's a bed and breakfast down Miner's Walk. Augustus owes me a favor. You can stay there on my dime until you get yourself settled.”

  I blinked in surprise. “That's very generous, Miss Maggie, but I really couldn't.”

  “You can,” she smiled, patting my cheek. “Honey, you look like you've been through a war zone. I don't know what your feller did, but he wrung you out. You need to rest. To recover your strength. God put us on the earth to help each other out. Least, that's what I think. So let me help you. Someday, when you come across a young woman that's hurting, I expect you to do the same.”

  “Yes, ma'am,” I nodded.

  “Good. Now to get to Moonrise Bed & Breakfast, go left when you leave the bar. You want to go six blocks up Spring Drive until your reach Miner's Way. You want to go left when you reach there. It's a woody, windy road. But his place is only three-quarter miles up it. I'd give you a lift, but I need to keep an eye on the riffraff.”

  “Yes, you do, Miss Maggie,” whooped Earl.

  The Donovan woman kept eyeing me, her eyes making me nervous. She had a hungry gleam in them.

  “Who's that woman,” I whispered, leaning in.

  “That's Fiona. She leads the whole clan. What you see in the bar's barely any of them. You watch out with her. She's a horny minx and doesn't much care who her partners are. And she doesn't care if they get a little banged up, neither. Her claws are sharp.”

  I nodded and a yawn suddenly split my lips.

  “Get going, honey, before you fall asleep in my bar.”

  “Thank you, ma'am. I truly appreciate this.”

  Miss Maggie reached over the bar to give me a tight hug. For a moment, I was a little girl again and my momma was hugging me as she tucked me into for sleep. I fought back my tears. She was long gone. No amount of crying was going to change that.

  I hefted my duffel bag and strode out of the bar.

  I stared at the street for a moment and had no idea where to go. My exhausted mind struggled to work. What had Miss Maggie just told me? Come on, mind. I walk out to the street and go...left? I think she said left.

  Right led out of town, so it must be left.

  Cars drove by and pedestrians walked down the sidewalks, visiting the various shops that lined the street. My feet were sore by the time I walked six blocks, and my shoulder was killing me. Who would have thought clothes could weigh so much.

  I turned left at Miner's Walk, the road snaking up into the forested hills. I began my climb, my boots clicking on the shoulder of the road. The sidewalk ended almost immediately, and I hoped no one came barreling down this hill and hit me.

  It grew quiet as the trees blocked the noise coming from Moonrise. The trees were dark, swaying in a breeze as they loomed over me. The world seemed to shrink to his narrow road, the only link proving I was still in civilization.

  And my sleep addled brain began playing tricks on me.

  Footsteps echoed behind me. Every time I looked, there was nothing. I'm probably hearing my own steps echoing back, but my heart began to beat in my breast. “You're being foolish,” I whispered to myself as I stopped for the second time. “No one's following you. No one's behind you.”

  A shadow moved.

  I yelped, stumbling back, my duffel back dropping from my hand.

  “It's an animal moving through the brush,” I sighed when nothing emerged. “Get a grip, Kotie.”

  Christian stepped into the road.

  I knew I was tired because my eyes must be playing tricks on me. Christian seemed to step out of the bushes like he had been a part of them, vines falling off his body to reveal his faded jacket and blue jeans, that awful smile on his face. I blinked my eyes, expecting him to vanish.

  He didn't.

  “The light of my life,” he grinned, running a hand through his greased back hair as he strode towards me. “I would love to continue our conversation.”

  I backed away, leaving my fallen duffel bag behind. His long strides carried him up the hill towards me. “I don't want to talk,” I said, reaching into my purse to pull out my cell phone. I kept it off. Burt could track me with the GPS. But fear hammered at my heart. I needed help. I needed the Sheriff.

  I pushed the on button. The phone began to boot up, the T-mobile logo flashing across the screen.

  Christian reached me, batting my cell phone out of my hands into the bushes, the glass shattering against a tree. “You don't need that.” His hand reached out, touching my face. “Just relax. I'm not going to hurt you as long as you do what I say.”

  I kicked him in the balls.

  But he was ready this time. His leg shifted, my shin banging into his knee. “Help!” I screamed as I retreated.

  Christian lunged, seizing my shoulders. I slapped him hard, but his hands held me tight.

  “Let go of me, asshole!” I prayed so hard that the Sheriff would appear as I fought. I grit my teeth; I would not let a man hurt me again. “I don't want anything to do with you.”

  “You need to stop struggling against kismet,” he snarled. “Our meeting was fated. We were drawn here. The energy is leading us up this road. It's on this mountain. Can't you feel it?”

  “You're fucking nuts!”

  Nuts. Every guy's weak point. My hands were free. I shot my right hand down and squeezed his crotch.

  “Cunt!” he snarled, his eyes widening as I squeezed without mercy.

  “Cocksucker!” I shouted back, twisting his balls.

  Christian shoved me hard. I stumbled back onto the dirt-strewn shoulder of the road. My boots slipped on the loose soil. I fell backwards. “Sheriff!” I screamed without thought before I smacked into the ground, my lower back flaring in pain. “Help!”

  The asshole charge forward, standing over me. I kicked out my feet as I scrambled away. My hands seized a loose stone. I threw it at him. The rock struck him in the face, leaving a red gouge pouring blood.

  Christian wiped the blood from his eyes. “I didn't want to do this, bitch. It would have been so much easier if you were willing.”

  I threw another stone at him and bellowed for help. Maybe I was close to the Bed & Breakfast. Augustus was expecting me. Miss Maggie called. He might come looking to see if I got lost. It was such a small hope, but I clung to it.

  “Spirits of control,” he called out, holding his arms wide. Through his dark shirt, a sickly-yellow light glowed.

  What was going on? Was this just a nightmare? Did I pass out on the walk up the road? Was I really just sleeping on the shoulder?

  “Bind this woman's flesh,” Christian chanted, pointing his fingers at me. “Make her move as I will. Attach my strings and control her body.”

  My back flared in pain as the sickly-yellow light flashed out, engulfing me in a world of yellow. Tiny points jabbed at my body, trying to burrow into my arms, legs, torso, and head. I screamed, gritting my teeth as I resisted the intrusion into my body, forcing the points away from my ski
n.

  “No!” I screamed. “Stay out of my mind, bastard!”

  “Spirit's of control!” he boomed. “Beat down her will! Overpower her spirit!”

  The sickly light grew more intense, drowning me in commands. Part of me whispered that Christian was right. I didn't need to resist. I needed to surrender my body to his control. His words were true. We were fated to find this power together. Kismet brought the two of us to Moonrise. We were allies, not enemies. Lovers, not rivals.

  With a desperate strength, I screamed, “No! I am not your slave!”

  My vision swam. The points were thrown back at Christian, driven away by the strength of my will. Darkness swallowed the world. A great, bone-weary exhaustion weighed me down. I fought to stay conscious as Christian reeled back.

  “You're strong,” he growled. “But your will is sapped. Stop resisting and—”

  Brakes squealed.

  The Sheriff burst out of his car.

  My vision went black, exhaustion pulling me down. I heard a bestial roar and a scream of pain.

  And then I heard nothing.

  Chapter Three: Safe

  Strong arms held me.

  A heady, masculine musk—leather and sweat—tickled my nose.

  Fear retreated from my dreams.

  I sank deeper into unconsciousness. I knew the Sheriff had me. Christian had been driven off by Forrest.

  Wonderful, beautiful, oblivious sleep claimed me.

  My dreams flowed one on the other, merging and mixing like different dyes dropped into a cup of water on Easter.

  My momma smiling, her fiery-red hair framing her angelic face as she picked me up and held me in her arms. “There's my little rug rat,” she giggled, tickling me.

  “Where we goin', Momma?”

  “Swimmin'. Now don't that sound fun?”

  Water surrounded us, hot and relaxing. Large pine trees reared around us, rustling in the wind. I swam through the silvery water. A red moon glowed above us. I giggled and laughed, dog paddling with my awkward, chubby child legs.

  Green eyes watched me.

  “Green like your daddies,” laughed Momma, gracefully swimming beside me. “He was a passionate man. A traveler. That's why I named you Dakota. You'll be like him. You'll travel the world. You'll see all those distant places.”