Moon Dance

by Angela Knight

  Whirling, she charged toward the brawling Direwolves.

  Richard must have given some order. One of the bodyguards ran to help Stephen, while another grabbed for Elena. Cursing them all, she raked at him with her claws even as he smashed her to the ground.

  • • •

  Lucas sank his fangs into Bradford’s forearms and clamped down hard, intent on breaking bone. The rich man howled and struck out with his claws. Lucas blocked the strike and ground down. Damn, but it felt good to finally cut loose against one of those abusive little pricks.

  “Get him off, get him off!” Bradford writhed and kicked, his clawed feet raking Lucas’s calves. Lucas didn’t care, too intent on doing damage. An image flashed through his mind: the terror and agony on Elena’s face when Bradford had laid her open.

  Something crunched at last. Bradford yelped.

  Before Lucas could savor his triumph, something slammed into his head. His jaws loosened as stars shot behind his eyes. Somebody grabbed him from behind and hauled him off Bradford, spinning him into a right cross that filled his mouth with blood. Lucas staggered, distantly aware that Bradford had taken to his heels.

  A black-furred werewolf who must have been one of the bodyguards lunged for Lucas’s throat, intent on finishing him off. Lucas ducked the charge, planted a shoulder in the shifter’s gut, and let him roll over his back. The man hit the ground hard. In the moment he was stunned, Lucas buried his claws in the bodyguard’s belly, raking him mercilessly as he yowled in agony. Shifting into wolf form, the man scrambled away, narrowly avoiding having his throat ripped out.

  Elena howled in rage and frustration. Forgetting the bodyguard, Lucas whirled. She was struggling with another black-furred werewolf as her father watched. Lucas growled and started for them.

  Before he took another step, a blur of dark brown slammed into his side, tumbling him off his feet. Fangs sank into his shoulder, shooting fire through his flesh. Lucas twisted and managed to rake his claws across the other’s long muzzle, forcing him to release his hold. Growling, he jolted forward, a second swipe of his claws leaving the werewolf’s ears a bloody ruin. The bodyguard retreated with a yelp.

  Spotting another shifter lunging for him, Lucas scrambled to his feet. Blood matted the fur of his left arm from the bite in his shoulder, and his legs burned viciously from Bradford’s raking claws. Despite the pain, he bounced on the balls of his feet and decided he could afford to put off changing form a little longer. The transformation to wolf would heal his injuries, but it would also leave him smaller and more vulnerable against his Direwolf enemies.

  Besides, Changing too many times could make his power turn on him. He had no desire to burn to death in a pyre of out-of-control magic.

  “Give it up, cop,” one of the three bodyguards growled as they closed in on him again. To Lucas’s satisfaction, one was limping and another was almost as bloody as he was. “She’s not worth dying for.”

  Lucas bared his teeth. “Yes, she is.” He flexed his claws and eyed the three men, looking for an opening. “But do you really want to die for Bradford?”

  The brown-furred Direwolf shrugged. “We’re not outnumbered, asshole.” He charged.

  Lucas pivoted aside, blocking the bodyguard’s attack, but a second saw his chance. Talons darted at his throat. Lucas ducked, but the first guard kicked a clawed foot into his gut. Pain screamed through him, and he staggered. He felt blood spill, along with something wet and soft.

  Oh, shit, Lucas thought. That doesn’t feel good at all.

  Something into his muzzle, knocking him backward onto the ground. Bradford roared in triumph. Suddenly the blond bastard was there, crouching over him, wrapping a big clawed hand around his throat.

  Fuck. I’m screwed now.

  • • •

  “Stop fighting me, Miss Livingston,” George Ross gritted in Elena’s ear. He had both massive arms wrapped under her arms, hands cupped behind her neck in a full Nelson. “You’re going home, and you’re going to do what your father tells you to do.”

  Elena barely heard him. Her horrified gaze was locked on Lucas, who was writhing in Stephen’s murderous hold. He was bleeding from dozens of wounds, while Stephen’s fur wasn’t even marked. Apparently her former fiancé had managed to heal his injuries while Lucas was fighting the bodyguards.

  We’re losing, she realized, despairing. There’s no way Lucas can fight off all four of them. He’s going to die.

  In a single white-hot flash, Elena remembered the taste of his mouth, the feel of his strong body moving against her. Remembered his deep, roguish laughter, his smile, the male heat in his eyes. He’d made her feel more alive in the past few hours than she’d been in all the hollow years that came before.

  Lucas, all that strength, all that heroism, all that wicked humor—gone.

  No. Rage flooded her, washing away fear and despair with its white-hot burn. Stephen and her father weren’t going to get away with this. She’d let them trap her into living half a life for fear of what they’d do to her, but this was it.

  They weren’t taking Lucas away.

  Twisting in the bodyguard’s grip, Elena released her clawed grip on his wrist and drove her hand backward. He jerked in shock as she wrapped her clawed hand around his genitals. “Let me go,” she growled, “or I’ll rip them off. You’ll heal, but it’ll hurt. A lot.”

  “Shit! You little bitch, you’d better . . .”

  “Have it your way, George,” she growled, and raked.

  He screamed, his grip going lax. She tore free as the bodyguard fell, gagging, to his knees. Even as George transformed to heal his injuries, Elena raced toward Stephen, who was struggling to control Lucas. Her foe turned toward her . . .

  . . . and she kicked him right in the muzzle. Stephen’s head snapped back, and he lost his grip on Lucas, who promptly shifted to wolf and scrambled free.

  As all three bodyguards lunged for them, Elena threw herself over Lucas’s furred body.

  They had one chance, and one chance only—if he’d agree. Curling herself tight around him to protect him from the werewolves, she gasped, “Spirit Link with me!”

  Spirit Link? Lucas’s astonished question emerged as a lupine whine. In wolf form, he didn’t have the vocal cords to speak.

  “Get off him, Elena!” Stephen snapped. His voice was ugly with excitement.

  “Please, Lucas!” she whispered. “I can end this! Trust me!”

  • • •

  If she was wrong and they killed him, Lucas thought, the link would kill her. But if he didn’t do it, they’d kill him—and Elena would be at Stephen Bradford’s mercy for the rest of her life. Beaten and abused just as his mother had been, all that fierce spirit slowly dying.

  Hell no.

  Bradford’s voice, approaching. “Get off him!”

  “I’m changing!” she whispered in his ear. “Help me!” Magic began to boil around her.

  Furiously, he gathered his own and let it spill over him. Simultaneously, their bodies started glowing, shifting form, wolf and Direwolf vanishing into the magic. For a heartbeat, neither had a form at all. . . .

  And their minds touched.

  He could feel her, her strength, her fear, her intelligence, her desperation, and her courage. In that moment, he knew her as he’d never known another person in all his lonely life.

  And she knew him.

  Oooh, she breathed in his mind—not a thought so much as pure, sweet wonder.

  And he shared it.

  Touching her mind was like laying naked in warm sunlight after a cold winter. His spirit unfurled with a hungry desperation, enfolding her and bringing her close.

  Just as she enfolded him. Together. . . .

  Finally, a voice said deep inside him. This is what I was looking for all along.

 
You.

  There were tears in his eyes. Lucas blinked, and realized he had eyes again. Elena’s slender human arms were curled around his big Direwolf body, as if still trying to protect him.

  Until she was jerked violently away. With a roar of fury, Lucas surged to his feet.

  “Enough of this,” Bradford snapped, glaring at him as he held Elena by one slender arm. “Kill him!”

  “No!” It was Richard, his voice trembling. “They glowed when they changed! I saw them. Elena . . .”

  “Yes.” Her grin was vicious. “We’re Spirit Linked. Which means if you kill him, I die, too. And so does Wulfgar’s line.” She curled a lip. “And so does your chance at Wulfgar’s seat.”

  Bradford’s eyes widened in horror before he recovered enough to sneer. “You’re lying. There’s no way you’d chain yourself to this mongrel.”

  “There’s nothing mongrel about him.” She turned to her father, her chin lifted. “He’s more than worthy to sire Wulfgar’s descendents. Certainly a hell of a lot more than this maggot you dug up.”

  “They’re bluffing,” Bradford snapped at the bodyguards. “Kill him.”

  “Better call them off, Richard,” Elena warned.

  The men took a step toward Lucas. He tensed, preparing to fight. Regardless of the odds, he was going to have to take them all down. Otherwise Elena didn’t have a prayer.

  “No!” Richard gasped. “No, she . . . she means it. I know my daughter. She . . . doesn’t bluff.”

  The bodyguards hesitated, surprise in their eyes. “Are you sure, Mr. Livingston?”

  The old man slumped against his walked. “I’m . . . sure. I don’t want to . . . die with her hatred.”

  Stephen stared at him with astonished rage. “You gutless old bastard! We had a deal!”

  “It’s done, Stephen!” In his anger, Richard actually managed something close to a snap.

  “Not yet!” Fangs bared, Stephen sprang toward Elena, one clawed hand lifted for a killing blow.

  Lucas grabbed the Direwolf as he lunged past, wrapping one arm around his neck in a choke hold and jerking him to a stop. “Oh, hell no, you don’t!”

  Gagging, Bradford tried to tear free, claws raking Lucas’s forearm. “Let me go, you son of a bitch! We’re not done!”

  “Actually, we are.” Ignoring the pain of his savaged arm, arm, Lucas wrapped his other hand around the werewolf’s muzzle. “And Elena won.” He wrenched the Direwolf’s head violently to the side.

  Something snapped.

  Lucas let Bradford’s body fall. It collapsed in a heap, his head at an unnatural angle.

  Lucas met Elena’s eyes and opened his arms. She came into them without hesitating, wrapping her own around his furry chest.

  He lowered his muzzle to the top of her head and rested it there as he held her. It seemed he could feel the glow of her spirit through the link, warm as sunshine. He closed his eyes in relief and gratitude.

  “Shit,” one of the bodyguards muttered.

  “Oh, yes,” Richard said hoarsely. “You did Link, didn’t you?”

  Lucas looked up to see the longing in the old man’s eyes.

  “My bitterest regret is . . . I didn’t link with your mother,” Richard told Elena, who lifted her head at the quiet words. “If I had . . . maybe she wouldn’t have died . . . the way she did. And I wouldn’t be alone . . .” He broke off and began to cough violently into his red-spotted handkerchief.

  Without another word, his bodyguards moved to help him. As Elena and Lucas watched, one picked him up while the other collected his walker.

  “What about Mr. Bradford?” the third bodyguard asked.

  “Take care of him,” Richard said, his voice quavering weakly. “You know . . . the proper procedure.”

  “Somehow I don’t think we want to watch,” Lucas whispered to Elena. “Let’s get out of here.”

  She only wrapped her arms tighter around him and nodded. She’d started to shake.

  Together, leaving the bodyguards to their grim job, they walked out of the woods.

  Neither of them spoke to her father.

  CHAPTER 10

  Now that it was over, Elena felt shell-shocked.

  Lucas had snapped Stephen’s neck like a twig. Yet if he hadn’t, her so-called fiancé would have killed her.

  “It’s funny,” she said over the sound of the shower as Lucas adjusted the water temperature. He’d led the way to the bathroom the moment they’d entered the house, as if knowing exactly what she wanted. Which, given the link, he probably did. “I knew Stephen was a vicious little bastard, but I never realized he’d try to kill me if he didn’t get his way.”

  Lucas shot her a look. “Classic abuser behavior, sweetheart. ‘If I can’t have you, nobody can.’ ”

  “Yeah, I guess that does sound like Stephen.” Brooding, she leaned against the wall to pull off her jeans and panties. Looking up, she realized he was stripping too and paused to enjoy the mouthwatering view.

  He eyed her as he tossed his shirt into the wicker clothes hamper. “It bothers you that I killed him.” Elena opened her mouth to deny it, but he shook his head. “That’s okay, it bothers me, too. Not that I had a choice—it was the only way to protect you. But still . . .”

  “You’ve never killed anyone before.” She blinked. “It’s odd. I’m not reading your mind, exactly, but I seem to . . .”

  “. . . feel what I’m feeling.” He shrugged his broad shoulders and stepped into the shower. She followed him under the warm spray. “I can tell this is going to take some getting used to.”

  Elena looked up and met his dark eyes. “Do you regret linking with me?”

  “No,” he said quietly. “I’m glad. And not because it was the only way out.”

  “But we’ve only known each other a few hours.”

  Lucas cupped her chin in his palm and tilted it upward until he could meet her eyes. “And when we Linked, we touched each other more profoundly than a couple who have been married twenty years. I know you, Elena. Maybe I don’t know what your favorite color is, or whether you like anchovies on your pizza, but I do know the core of your spirit.” His voice dropped, going even deeper and more resonant.

  Big hands cupped her breasts. Caressed. Teased. Her nipples stiffened against his palms, until her head fell back. Lucas pulled her full against him with a soft, masculine rumble of hunger.

  Elena let herself melt into his hard body, savoring his strength. His thick erection nestled against her belly, a silent testimony to his need. She almost purred at its satin heat.

  A wicked thought slipped into her mind, and she grinned against his mouth.

  He smiled back, lifting his head to gaze down into her eyes. “What are you planning, wench?”

  “A little experiment.” She went to her knees in front of him and watched his eyes go wide. Gently, she ran her hands up his wet belly, watching the water bead and run, enjoying the spray beating gently on her shoulders.

  She closed one hand around him and leaned in, extending her tongue for a slow lick, tasting the tiny drop of his arousal. He rewarded her with a deep groan and leaned his back against the shower wall.

  Angling the big shaft upward, she eyed its elegant contours before tracing the tip of her tongue up the sensitive ridge on its underside. Through the Link, she felt a luscious echo of the sensation. Intrigued, she pulled his length downward and engulfed him in her mouth for a fierce, hot suckle. The blast of pleasure that followed made her shudder in delight.

  It was suddenly very clear why men loved blow jobs.

  A strong hand came down to cup the back of her head, long fingers threading through her wet hair. She bent her head and gently drew one of his balls into her mouth. He swayed, and she smiled, knowing his legs had gone weak.

  H
er own were shaking a little too.

  Enjoying the delicious blend of familiar act and alien pleasure, Elena settled down to sucking him in earnest. His heartfelt groans told her how thoroughly he approved of her little experiment.

  Until neither of them could take any more.

  “Damn, woman, you’re driving me insane!” He bent and dragged her hungrily into his arms. With a soft, satisfied laugh, Elena wrapped her legs around his lean waist as he turned off the taps and pushed open the shower door. She kissed him as he carried her into the bedroom and lowered her to the bed.

  “We’re going to get the mattress wet.”

  “I’ll turn it over,” he told her, and covered her mouth in a fierce, demanding kiss. As their tongues dueled sweetly, his hand slid between her legs, a finger probing gently. He growled in approval at what he found. “You’re creamy.”

  “You have that effect on me.”

  “Good.” He spread her legs wide and aimed himself for her core.

  His first hard thrust froze them both in astonishment at the sensations pouring through the Link.

  “Oh, man,” Elena breathed, her eyes flaring wide as she felt both her own pleasure and his.

  Lucas blinked. “That’s, ummm . . .”

  “Oh, yeah. Do it again.”

  Another thrust, slower this time. “Damn,” he said. “I’m not going to be able to last.”

  “That’s okay,” she gasped. “I won’t either.”

  Lucas grinned. “What the hell.” And he plunged deep. Elena gasped, stunned at the sensations of his cock filling her sex and her sex gripping his cock.

  Just like that, the Burning Moon reawoke, drowning them both in flame. Lucas started lunging, grinding his hips in the cradle of her legs even as she pumped up at him. Each thrust carried such sweet, blinding pleasure that it stoked their mutual lust even higher. Desperately needy, they rode together, panting, straining. Loving the feel of each other’s bodies, entranced by sensation and need.