Full Moon Heat Collection
by Lia Connor
eBook BIN: 06058-01944
Chantal wants answers, and she wants them now. She’s traced her attacker to a group of bikers — the Lobos. Will they let her into their pack, or push her away?
This collection contains the previously released novellas Full Moon Heat, Full Moon Rising, Full Moon Night, and Full Moon City.
Full Moon Night [Book 3]
“Tonight, we celebrate!”
Letting loose with a wild cry, part man-voice and part howl to the moon, Saint Sin jumped down from the sandy verge that surrounded the square of beach he’d marked as his. He landed in the middle of three women who laughed and started to fawn over him. Red-head, blond, and brunette, each one of them pretty in their way, but not what he wanted. Ruffling up their hair, Saint Sin got himself out of the tangle and headed over to a seat by the bonfire, settling down next to Juarez.
His second-in-command nodded to him, kicking at the sand with one tough boot. “Take your shoes off,” Saint Sin ordered, glancing down at his own bare toes and at the women, dancing all but naked. “We’re all friends here.”
Juarez gave Saint Sin a dark look, but obeyed, toeing off the boots and placing them behind him on the log.
“That’s my boy,” Saint Sin approved. He planted his hands on the log and leaned back a little, watching the men and women of his gang dance in the glow of the setting sun. They weren’t perfect, not strong or tall like himself or Juarez. Some were small, some had imperfections, and most of them were skinny.
That’d all change soon, though.
“Tonight’s the night,” he said, twisting open a bottle of stolen beer. He tipped it back and drank even as he felt Juarez’s dark gaze fasten upon him. “She’s held out for a long time, but it’s a full moon tonight. She won’t be able to resist coming to play with us.”
He grinned to himself in a way that would have left no outsider in doubt of what he meant by playing.
Juarez dug his toes into the sand. “You’re sure about what you’re doing?” he asked in a low voice, beneath the wailing cries of jubilation from the rest of their Pack. “Taking a chance like this is risky for all of us.”
“What’s life without a little risk?” Saint Sin passed over the bottle. “I did what I thought was best for the Pack, and that’s all there is to it.”
“I still don’t see why you had to –”
“Is it your place to question me?” Saint Sin snapped. At Juarez’s reluctant shake of the head, he grinned again and grabbed the bottle back. “Sun’s setting, moon’s rising,” he said. “Pretty soon we’ll see what’s what. Bet you twenty she shows up tonight.”
Juarez shook his head. “You’re on.”
“Easy money.” Saint Sin braced himself with one hand on the log and one hand loosely cupping his hard erection. God, he’d been permanently aroused since he’d first seen her, with her dark skin and wide, black eyes, all crowned by that head of loose curls that spilled free of her braid and wisped around her cheek.
Chantal, he’d heard the people in town calling her. Looking forward to seeing you, Chantal. Bet you just can’t wait to see what we’re all about.
Laughing, Saint Sin raised his face to the sky and let out a long, baying wolf’s howl. “Tonight we party!” he shouted. “Dance!”
And the tumbling chaos went on, his Pack of wolves cavorting on the shore.
God, this was the life. And it could only get better, or would once Chantal arrived.
* * *
The distant sound of whoops and howls carried through the still twilight air. The wild gang that had moved in down on the beach were having a party, tossing back bottles of beer, probably stolen — a lot of merchandise had gone missing from stores since they arrived — and dancing around a vast bonfire made of driftwood.
No human ears could have heard them, but Chantal did.
Struggling up from her bed, legs tangling in her sweat-soaked sheets, she stumbled to the window and flung it open. Closing her eyes as a cool breath of wind, laced with salt from the ocean, brushed across her cheek, she listened hard. She could almost hear the men singing and the scuffing of the sand as women danced.
She was miles away from that stretch of the beach. How was it possible that she could hear them?
Lifting one wrist to brush tangled black hair away from her face, she paused for a moment when she saw the fresh pink scars on her espresso-colored skin. She turned her arm first one way and then another, looking at the places where teeth had sunk into her flesh.
The breeze curled through the room and riffled up the pages of a book she’d left lying open on her desk. She’d had to borrow it special from the college library. They hadn’t wanted to let her take it home, but she’d begged and pleaded and even gone so far as to display her cleavage as she leaned over the checkout desk to talk to the male librarian.
It was an old book, full of woodcuts instead of printed pictures. The pages turned as the small breath of air shuffled them, flipping past Chantal’s bookmark and opening on a page with a picture of a creature who was half-man, half-beast. From the waist down, he looked human except for the vast size of his erection, standing up tall and rampant. From the waist up… he was a wolf, complete with muzzle and dripping fangs.
Chantal breathed in and out, trying to calm herself. The new scars on her wrist ached just as her pussy burned for something to fill it besides her fingers or a toy. The changes that had come on her since she was bitten… all the reading she’d done… and the gang that had invaded South Beach… everything clicked together in a terrible kind of sense. She knew what the gang was made of. They walked tall and acted tough, but she could smell them now in a way she’d never been able to before.
Their scent was especially strong tonight. Chantal shuddered as another breeze blew the smell toward her. She felt a pull stronger than the tides, tugging at her to go down to that patch of beach and make the stand she’d planned on.
Was this it, then? Was tonight the night?
She wasn’t sure. But she ached to go and join in the dance, and her pussy clenched with the thought of a wild man claiming her. Maybe their leader, the one she’d seen muscling his way through a small store. Tall and blond, with pale crystal blue eyes, and a grin on his face that said he was T-R-O-U-B-L-E.
In the past, Chantal would have been scared of him. Now, all she could do was think about his arms wrapped around her, tugging her close. She knew what she knew, and she was aware that she should be afraid, but she wasn’t.
Taking a glance back at her desk, Chantal saw the woodcut picture lying open. She’d studied that one many a time. She crossed the tiny room to touch it, wincing as the shocks creaked on her single-wide trailer. She couldn’t wake up Daddy. Couldn’t bear it if he found out the truth.
Her fingers ran across the illustration, tracing each harsh dark line until she reached the cock, flat-palming the book instead. Her body shook with a series of chills, each one stronger than the next. This happened every night as the moon rose. She shook and chattered as if she had a fever, but after a few minutes the feeling of sickness always passed.
The need for sex, though, that never went away. It burned between her thighs, making her pussy weep with the need for a thick, hard cock to bury itself up inside her channel. She could all but feel the strong hard-riding arms of a rough-cut man wrapping themselves around her, holding her tight. Could feel his lips on hers, demanding her mouth on his rather than kissing her gently.
And she wanted it.
Tonight, she decided. It’ll have to be tonight. I don’t know how much longer that group is going to stick around, and if I don’t make my treaties with them now —
She shivered again, feeling her skin crawl. I have to do this. Otherwise I’ll never know. What they do, what they are — and what they did to me. She chafed her scarred wrist with one hand.
Her mind was made up. Tonight, she’d make her great escape.
And as for what came next, well, that was anybody’s guess, wasn’t it?