Moonlit Watcher (Moonlit Novella #2) Read online

  Moonlit Watcher

  Crystal-Rain Love

  Moonlit Watcher

  By Crystal-Rain Love

  Copyright 2013 Crystal-Rain Love

  Smashwords Edition

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  First All Romance eBooks publication: February 2010

  Chapter One

  Fate was a twisted bitch. Derek Kingston hid behind the trees, staring down at the small house sitting just outside the forest. He would put his hands in his pockets, but the fabric of his black pants was stretched to capacity over the erection he got any time he so much as thought of the woman inside the walls of the little, pale yellow house. The human woman.

  What a sick joke. Two months ago he'd been one of a pair of Weres selected by Rong, the pack leader, to fight over mating rights to Rong's sister, Ming. Then Rong had been killed, by none other than his sister's soul mate, Jason. Now Jason was pack leader and Ming bore his mark. To touch her brought an instant death sentence from the rest of the pack.

  Derek had come too close to having the voracious beauty only to have her snatched away. He didn't love her, and they weren't soul mates, but she was the exact type of wolf he desired. She was strong, brave, and sexy as hell. He knew she would have been one hell of a good screw.

  Unlike the human woman fate had been dangling in front of him since that night. He didn't know her name, or where she came from, but she'd been in the house since Rong was killed. Blond with sparkling blue eyes and pink, full lips, her body was long and lithe, the result of her dancing. He often padded closer to her home in wolf form so he could watch her, and what she did more than anything was dance. Ballet. She was a dainty little ballerina. What the hell was fate thinking when it decided she would be his soul mate?

  He'd tried to deny it for the first month, but he couldn't stop his thoughts from drifting to her every hour of the day, dreaming of her every time he slept…following the pull toward her every night the moon rose. During the last full moon phase he'd done the unthinkable and passed on the opportunity to have sex with another Were. Felicia was a hot little Were he'd had numerous times before, but he couldn't go through with it. It was as if he had been neutered. Sure, the mere thought of the human woman hardened him to painful degree, but the thought of sex with another woman, even a Were, and he couldn't get it up. It was damned emasculating.

  He called upon the magic inside and shifted into his wolf form so he could pad down to the back patio. The night was cool and still. He reached the patio and lay down, watching the woman through her sliding glass door.

  As usual, she wore a fitted tank top and little black knit shorts. Her back to him, she raised one leg to rest her ankle on the wooden barre attached to the living room wall and bent forward at the waist. She had the agility of a feline, a fact that turned Derek on despite not caring for cats.

  He felt the pull to shift shape and go to her as a human, wrap his arms around her waist and mount her from behind, but he held back. Regardless if she was his soul mate, he couldn't cross that line. She was human, and way too fragile looking for his tastes.

  Some werewolves spent their whole lives fighting against their nature, keeping their beasts at bay. Not Derek. He loved to hunt and prowl. Fighting was a thrill he welcomed, and when it came to the opposite sex he wanted a woman who was as wild in the sack as he was. This delicate flower wouldn't survive a night with him.

  Something whizzed over his head and a flower pot exploded. Derek jerked to his paws and turned, hunkering down so he wasn't such an easy target. Someone was hunting him.

  Behind him he heard the woman's feet racing across the floor, headed for the door. He'd brought hunters to her doorstep. It was his duty to keep her from getting hurt by his stupidity. The pack had known hunters were in the area, it was that time of year, and yet he'd foolishly left the cover of the trees to drool over the woman in the open.

  Two men approached quickly, guns pointed. Another bullet whizzed by, barely missing his shoulder as the glass door started to slide open.

  “Stay in your house, lady,” one of the hunters yelled. “There's a wolf on your patio!”

  “Leave him alone!” she yelled back. “He's not hurting anyone.”

  Derek's ears perked at her defense. Most humans automatically feared wolves, and Weres especially. They were much larger than real wolves, and their eyes had a tendency to glow red. Derek allowed his to do so as the hunters neared close enough to see.

  “Holy shit!” The heavy one stopped in his tracks, but the thin one didn't hesitate. He raised the rifle at the same moment Derek leaped. A shot rang out as he sank his teeth into the man's shoulder and tore flesh.

  He jumped off the man as his body hit the ground and turned to make sure the woman hadn't been hit by the stray bullet. Derek had just whipped his head around when another bullet ripped into his side, burning a trail through his body. He fell to the ground, immobilized by the pain. Far too much pain for a normal bullet.

  “No!” The woman's voice shook with anger and fear as she barreled down the steps to where he lay.

  “Lady, that's a wild bea—”

  “You're the beast! Get out of here!”

  Derek struggled to see what was going on, but his vision was blurred. It looked like the woman had one of the men's guns pointed at them, forcing them away from her home. They argued as they left but he couldn't make out the words. Silver was in his body. The heavier man had silver bullets. The man knew what Derek was, which meant he and his entire pack were in danger. He had to warn them. He had to move. He had to… He had to get the silver out before he died.

  “Oh, you poor baby.” The woman hovered over him, whispering soothing sounds.

  Quit baby-talking me, woman, and get this bullet out.

  “Oh my… Wait. No. I'm hearing things.”

  Derek froze as he realized she'd heard his thoughts. He'd forgotten soul mates had the ability to do that, even before they took the vow. He might not want the woman as his eternal mate, but he could use their connection to save his life.

  Get the bullet out. It will kill me. Get it out. Hurry!

  “Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.” She made some more panicked noises and ran off.

  Great. My soul mate's a wuss. What else did I expect from a ballerina?

  Derek struggled to get to his feet. As pack leader, Jason would feel his pain and track him. If he met him halfway he might get help before it was too late.

  “Don't move!” The ballerina bounded down the steps and gently pushed him to the ground. “This is going to hurt, sweetie. Please be a good boy and don't snap at me.”

  White-hot pain burst through his side and he realized she'd gotten a knife to cut the bullet out of his side. Unfortunately she'd chosen a silver knife. He opened his mouth to scream and a howl emerged.

  “I'm so sorry.” By the trembling in her voice he could imagine how badly her hand shook. She was going to kill him trying to save his life, but there wasn't anything he could do. Until his body was free of silver he couldn't shift shape and heal.

  The pain in his side lessened and he felt the silver being tugged free. Blinking in and out, unable to keep anything in focus, he quit trying and concentrated on the silver. Once it cleared his skin his natural survival instinct kicked in and his body shifted shape. The ballerina's cry of shock was the last sound he heard before falling into unconsciousness in his human form.

  Chapter Two

  “Holy crap on
toast.” Juliana Van Alder managed to get the two-ton, six-footer's feet into the bed and heaved in a breath. She stretched her arms, loosening the tightness from lugging him into her house.

  She peered down at him on the bed. He was a handsome man, tall and well built with chocolate brown skin, black hair cut so close to his head it appeared as more of a shadow, and thick black lashes. He was every girl's dirty fantasy, with black pants wrapped around a lean waist and powerful thighs, and a matching T-shirt stretched over sculpted pectorals.

  He was perfect, except he was a dog. Not a dog in the way most men were dogs, but an honest to goodness dog. “Actually, he's a werewolf,” she murmured to herself and let out a nervous laugh. She'd blinked at least a hundred times after he'd changed from a wolf to man, but every time she opened her eyes he was still there. The flowerpot on her patio was still broken, the hunter's gun still at her side. The black wolf’s voice still lingered in her mind. True, he didn’t lose his clothes after shifting shape, which went against the lore she’d heard, but she’d seen enough to know what he was. It had all been real. She'd saved a werewolf.

  He moaned and she jumped. Juliana let out another nervous laugh and wrung her hands. If he wanted to hurt her, he could have done it any time over the past several weeks. She'd seen the big black wolf lurking outside her patio doors, watching her, and paid it no mind. It wasn't prowling around or drooling over her. He just sat there, watching her, and he seemed so lonely doing it. Her heart went out to the big creature. That was why she hadn't hesitated to intervene when she'd heard the pot break and saw what was happening outside.

  Frowning, she studied the steady rise and fall of the man's chest. His wound had healed when he shifted into human form, not a drop of blood on him, but he was still unconscious, which worried her. She laughed bitterly. What would her parents think if they knew she'd just brought this man into her home? Mr. and Mrs. Van Alder would have fussed more over her bringing a black man inside her home than a werewolf. He could hide his werewolf side. He couldn’t hide the fact he wasn’t part of New York’s crusty, white, spoiled elite.

  Leaning forward, she reached down to lay her hand on his forehead and check for a temperature. Did werewolves get fever? His head was hotter than she would have liked to have found it. Guilt gnawed at her. She'd cut him with a silver knife in order to get the bullet out of him. “Idiot,” she chastised herself, and felt the base of his neck. He was warm there as well.

  She thought of going into the bathroom and wetting a rag to lie across his forehead, but couldn't pull her hand away from all that muscled perfection. Sitting beside him on the bed she allowed her hand to travel over his pecs, reveling in the feel of cotton stretched over hard muscle.

  His hand snared her wrist and she was flipped onto her back, the man pinning her to the bed with his larger body. She gasped, but didn't speak, lost in the predatory gleam of his dark brown eyes.

  “Where am I?” His deep voice came out as a growl. It sent chills down Juliana's spine and she struggled not to let him see the effect.

  “You're in my home, in my bedroom.” She lightly pulled on her hand and found he wouldn't let go. “You were shot outside.”

  “I remember being shot.” His dark eyes narrowed. “Who is here helping you?”

  “No one is here with me.”

  “Don't lie to me, woman.” His eyes glowed red for a second before he brought them back under control. “I did not walk in here.”

  “I dragged you inside.” She licked her lips, nervous but not scared. She still didn't think he'd hurt her, but he was clearly agitated. “I didn't want to leave you out there in case the hunters came back.”

  His eyes widened but for only a brief moment before a veil seemed to fall over them, hiding any emotion he might feel. “You are very strong for such a small woman.” He lowered his head and sniffed along her neck. It was all Juliana could do not to moan. “I do not smell fear on you.”

  “I'm not afraid of you.” She met his gaze as he raised his head to stare down at her, letting his eyes bleed back to that red color. He was doing it to intimidate her, but she didn't understand why. Loneliness seemed to spill from his pores, but he acted as if he wished to chase her away.

  “You saw what I am.”

  “Yes, and I'm sorry.” His eyes changed back to brown and she saw the confusion in them. “If I'd known you were a…” geez, it sounded crazy saying it out loud, “a werewolf, I wouldn't have used a silver knife to get the bullet out. I'm sorry if I hurt you further.”

  He blinked, and the confusion turned into raw anger as he smashed his mouth down onto hers. Juliana gasped, the involuntary action opening her to his invasion. His tongue broke through and he tasted every inch of her mouth, greedily and without softness. He was testing her, she realized with clarity. He wanted to frighten her, to send her running. Well, she wouldn't do it. Juliana kissed him back, felt it the moment he figured out what she was doing, and reveled in the fact she'd turned the tables on him, surprising him with her boldness.

  She broke free from his grasp and dug her fingers into his shoulders, holding him tight against her as she raised her pelvis, grinding against him. He moaned against her mouth, enjoying what she was doing. Encouraged by his response, she trailed her fingers down his broad back, and slid them into the back of his waistband.

  He abruptly ended the kiss, raising himself onto his elbows to stare down at her. His eyes were red again, but she sensed no danger there. They seemed hungry this time. She knew with certainty the werewolf wanted to devour her, would bet her right leg on it, and she'd gladly allow him to do it.

  He turned his head quickly and muttered a curse as he rose to his knees and left the bed. “They're here.”

  “Who's here?” Juliana quickly scrambled off the bed, her heart revving inside her chest. “The hunters are back?”

  “No. Not the hunters.” Without another word, or so much as a backward glance, he strode forward, leaving the bedroom to travel the short length of the hall. Juliana followed behind him as he walked into the main room, which was divided into a living area and an open kitchen.

  Standing outside the sliding glass doors, on her patio, were three large men. Juliana grabbed the werewolf's elbow. “Who are they? What do they want?”

  The werewolf glared down at her hand on his arm as if it offended him, so she withdrew it. She didn't understand him. He clearly desired her, had been watching her for weeks, but he didn't seem to want her closeness despite the scorching kiss they'd just shared. “They are my pack,” he said as he walked over to the door and slid it open.

  The men walked into her home uninvited. The man in front was a tall Caucasian with short blond hair and green eyes that seemed to study everything at once. He exuded power and moved with an air of authority. The men on either side of him screamed of bodyguards and were similar to the werewolf she'd saved in height and build. They both had medium length dark hair and eyes, the differences between them being one was Hispanic and the other appeared to be Asian mixed with something else she couldn't place. None of them smiled.

  “I felt your panic,” the blond said. “What happened, Derek?”

  “I did not panic,” Derek scoffed at the notion. “I was shot. You felt my pain and the distress signal I involuntarily sent out as I weakened from the silver.”

  “I smelled the silver outside.” The blond sniffed, then narrowed his eyes as he gazed into the open kitchen. “However, there is quite a bit of silver inside as well.”

  Juliana followed his gaze and noted he was studying the wood block on her kitchen counter that contained a variety of pure silver knives. “Only the best for the Van Alders,” her mother liked to say. One of the knives was in the sink, probably still stained with Derek's blood.

  She felt heat boring into the side of her face and turned to find the blond man glaring at her. “Who is the woman?” he asked, but his tone asked, “What does she know and where will we hide the body after killing her?”

  Derek studied t
he angelic beauty who'd saved his life. She might not fear him—strange as that was—but the widening of her eyes clearly showed she feared Jason and his enforcers. She swallowed hard under the pack leader's scrutiny and he had to clench his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out to her. He wanted to soothe her, which was alarming to say the least. He'd never wanted to soothe another living being, especially not a human. There was no further proof needed that fate had thrown her in his path. Dammit.

  “Derek.” Jason's bark snagged his attention.

  “This woman removed the bullet from me.”

  Jason's eyebrow arched at that revelation before he returned his attention to the woman. “So you were shot while…”

  Derek obliged with a frustrated sigh. “I was in wolf form and could not shift. She dug out the bullet and brought me inside after I shifted back.”

  “Who are you?” Jason asked the woman, stepping closer to her.

  Derek balled up his fist but stood still, watching the exchange. He wouldn't challenge the pack leader unless he had to.

  “My name's Juliana Van Alder,” she answered in a trembling voice.

  Juliana. Derek let the name roll through his mind. It fit, very prim and proper. Perfect for a ballerina. Wrong for him.

  Jason tilted his head to the side, studying her. “I notice you have pure silver knives. Why?”

  Juliana's brow creased with her frown. “They were a gift from my mother. Wh— ” Her pretty blue eyes widened. “I didn't deliberately hurt Derek. If I'd known what he was, I would have never used a silver knife to remove the bullet.”

  “So you know the effect silver has on our kind? You've studied us?” The pack leader's eyes were narrow with suspicion.

  “Well, no, I never thought werewolves were real, but you'd have to have been living under a rock not to know that part of the lore.”

  “You don't seem very surprised for a human who's just discovered werewolves exist,” Jason countered.