by Ranae Rose
He made a low sound that might have been a laugh. “Sort of. But don’t think I won’t give you a ring. I will. In a heartbeat. You don’t have to wear my mark.”
Her heart quickened in protest. “I want to.”
“Kimberly, I…” He looked torn, though she couldn’t say why. When she glanced down, she could see that he was hard, his jeans strained by arousal he couldn’t hide, just like he couldn’t hide the gleam of desire in his eyes.
“We’re mates, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And that means forever?”
“Always.” His voice carried the hint of a growl.
“Then why are you hesitating – why are you surprised?”
“I don’t want to hurt you. And I definitely don’t want to scare you off.”
“Really.” She crossed her arms beneath her breasts, doing her best to ignore the way they ached as the motion drew her sweater tighter across them. “That’s pretty insulting, after all we’ve been through lately. I’ve had more bullets than I can count fly over my head, my only child was kidnapped and I watched you almost die … and you think I’m going to run screaming for the hills because of a little bite.”
“A big bite. A deep one. It’ll hurt, and the scar will never fade.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?” She narrowed her eyes at him.
He adjusted his jeans, silent for several moments. “God knows I want to mark you. I’ve been thinkin’ about it ever since we…” His gaze trailed lower, over her shoulders, then below. “Wolves heal quick – a little time beneath the moon, and the wounds are nothin’ but scars. Yours will take longer. A lot longer.”
“I don’t mind.” She’d suffered worse pain. Giving birth to their daughter alone, for instance. Then raising her without a father. Puncture wounds were nothing compared to those agonies. “Besides, I came prepared.” Bending at the waist, she rummaged under her seat.
Michael’s brows rose when his gaze settled on the box she’d pulled out – a first aid kit. It’d been under her seat since she’d bought the car. Now, she was glad she’d thought to keep it there, just in case.
He met her eyes again. “I’ll mark you. I’ll mark you in a heartbeat, if you’re absolutely sure.”
She reached out, laid a hand on his thigh and squeezed. “Let’s go for a walk.”
It was cold outside. He kept her close with an arm around her waist as they walked, following a narrow trail that wound through the woods, little more than a deer path. No one else was present; the forest was silent. Leaves fell here and there, drifting down around them as they passed tree after tree, sometimes bumping branches. Beneath their feet, a thick layer of shed leaves and pine needles provided cushion.
“How about here?” she asked when they reached a small clearing. Looking around, she could see nothing but forest.
“Perfect.” He ran a hand up her back and over her shoulder, tucking his fingers beneath the collar of her sweater. “You’d better take this off, if you can stand the cold. I don’t wanna get it bloody.”
She set her first aid kit down in the leaves and pulled the garment over her head, her skin pebbling instantly as he breathed a long sigh. When she looked up, he was eyeing her with unmistakable longing.
A shiver swept over her, leaving her feeling warmer, strangely, instead of colder. “Is there a special ceremony or anything?”
“I reckon every pack handles it a little differently, but not really. Anyway, seeing as how we don’t technically belong to a pack…”
“Good.” Her breath curled in front of her face, forming a fine mist. “I like the idea of it being just us – our way.” He – having him – was more than enough.
He reached out and touched her shoulder. The kiss of his fingertips against her skin was feather-light, and her mind whirled with visions of what was to come. Her excitement didn’t ebb, but as he drew closer, a hint of adrenaline crept into her veins, heightening her senses and sharpening her perceptions.
“I’ve waited a lifetime for this,” he said, sliding her bra strap down over her shoulder. It hung against her arm, a white ribbon against her chilled skin, though she could no longer feel the cold.
Just as softly as he’d touched her, he withdrew his hand and began to take off his clothing.
Kimberly’s heart leapt, though she should have realized: he needed to remove everything in order to shift. The necessity of it all didn’t dampen the thrill of watching him strip down, of seeing the hard lines and angles of his body exposed. If the temperature bothered him, he didn’t let it show.
“You should sit down,” he said, his blue eyes shining even in the shadow cast by the forest’s dying canopy. “Or at least kneel.”
She lowered herself, folding her legs beneath her body. She still had a few bumps and bruises from when he’d tackled her the night before, protecting her from gunfire, but the leaves that carpeted the forest floor provided so much cushion that she hardly felt a twinge of discomfort.
He knelt beside her, slipping a hand beneath her chin and tilting her head back, pressing his mouth to hers. His lips were hot and soft, his kiss demanding, and for a few moments, she forgot about everything else.
Even the mark she was about to carry … forever.
When he pulled away, the air hit her lips, stealing the heat of his kiss, but not the fire he’d sparked inside her.
“This’ll hurt,” he said. “But I’ll make it quick. I promise.”
“I trust you,” she breathed, thinking of the way he’d sheltered her with his own body the night before, willing to absorb any bullets that might fly in her direction.
He lowered his mouth to her neck and kissed a slow trail south, until his breath rushed against her shoulder. She raised a hand to touch him and found her fingers buried in fur.
He was true to his word. One of his ears brushed her jaw, soft as down, and before she could so much as exhale, he closed his jaws on her shoulder, clamping down hard and fast. By the time starbursts of light erupted in front of her eyes, he was human again and cradling her in his arms.
She hadn’t even realized she’d slumped against him, hadn’t had a chance to exhale or draw a breath. Finally, she gasped.
“You all right?” He slipped a hand beneath her chin again, forcing her to look up.
Slowly, she touched her right hand to her left shoulder, feeling warmth and wetness. “Yes. Fine.”
“Not yet,” he said, tightening his embrace when she tried to rise.
She didn’t argue, mostly because she didn’t mind spending a few more moments in his arms.
When he moved, it was to pick up the flannel shirt he’d been wearing over a cotton tee. Instead of putting it back on, he wrapped it around her, pressing the fabric gently against her bite wound, absorbing the blood that had welled up and begun to stream over her skin. “Hold on a minute,” he said. “I’ll get you a real bandage.”
Opening the first aid kit, he sorted through the gauze, medical tape and disinfectant with expert efficiency. Watching him, it was impossible not to wonder whether he’d done this before … whether he’d had to plaster his wounds, alone, with temporary dressings, holding back the flow of blood until the sun set and moonlight beamed down. Eyeing the scars on his torso and arms, she swallowed a knot that had sprung into her throat, thick and heavy.
When he’d finished cleaning and patching her shoulder up, she slipped her arms through the flannel’s oversized sleeves, breathing in his scent, which clung to the fabric. Pine and forest, tinged with the clean fragrance of aftershave – she’d never get tired of it.
He left his t-shirt in the leaves but pulled on his jeans, reaching into the pocket.
“What’s that for?” she asked when he withdrew a small knife.
He pressed something, and a blade popped free. It was only a few inches long, but the point looked wickedly sharp. “A wolf doesn’t just mark his mate – they mark each other.”
She felt her eyes go wide as she eyed the expanse of hi
s bare shoulders and his words registered. “With that? You want me to cut you?”
His gaze didn’t waver as he extended the weapon, offering it to her handle-first. “This won’t hurt any more than a set of fangs. Hell, it’ll probably hurt less.”
As she eyed the blade, her instincts warred with his words. Raise a weapon against the man she loved – the man whose life she’d spent years fearing for – even in the name of ceremony? It seemed barbaric. Cruel.
“I’m not asking you to cut my heart out. I’m asking you to mark me, like I did you.” A ghost of a smile played across his face. “I’ve got plenty of scars – remembering how I got this one will be a lot sweeter than thinking of the others.”
“I don’t know if I can do it – hurt you like that, I mean.” Yes, she was touched that he wanted to wear a mark from her, that he was willing to go to such lengths. Still, the idea of drawing his blood made hers run cold, even though he’d marked her with his own teeth, had tasted her blood.
“If it makes you feel any better, bear shifters use their claws when they mark their mates, not their teeth. Not much different than using a knife, if you ask me.”
He pressed the weapon into her hand, and she wrapped her fingers around the blade.
“Look at me, Kimberly,” he said, kneeling in front of her, his expression sober. “Don’t be afraid. You could push that blade into my heart and it wouldn’t hurt as bad as stayin’ away from you for damn near thirty years did. If you’re gonna wear my mark, I’m sure as hell gonna wear yours. I’m done with us bearing our separate burdens – we’re in this together now.”
Her shoulder throbbed where he’d marked her, where his teeth had pierced her flesh, leaving puncture wounds that nearly formed half moon shapes on either side of her shoulder. A half moon… Just a quick but careful cut. She was no artist, but she could manage that. And that night, with a little time spent in the light of an almost full moon, his wound would heal quickly, forming the scar he wanted.
“Okay.” She raised the knife.
A minute later, he was bleeding. And smiling.
She handed the knife back to him, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Knew you had it in you,” he teased. “The moment I saw you bring that guitar down on that dog’s skull, I knew you’d never hesitate to set me straight if I needed it, human or not.”
She couldn’t help but laugh. “This—” she waved her hand toward the blade she’d just surrendered “—was a one-time only thing. No matter how badly you may behave in the future.”
“I can only hope. Won’t have anywhere to run and hide in the city if I make you mad, will I?”
Her heart twinged as she thought of the years she’d passed in Nashville without him. “No running and hiding. I’m sure we’ll encounter challenges, but promise you’ll stay and we’ll work things out.”
He was suddenly sober, the teasing light gone from his eyes. “Always.”
A bolt of fierceness pierced her heart, and she reached out to grip his arm. “Even if you think leaving is best, don’t. I don’t want that. Mandy is an adult now with her own life. It’s just me and you, and if things get tough or even dangerous, so be it. Don’t try to protect me by excluding me.”
His expression was sober. Slowly, he nodded. “I won’t. You have my word.”
A weight she hadn’t realized she’d been carrying slid off her shoulders, and she breathed a sigh.
“Anyway,” she continued, her thoughts drifting toward the future she and Michael were about to build together, “you know I grew up in a small town. I always wanted to move out of the city, eventually, but I figured if I left Nashville, you wouldn’t have any way of finding me if you came back looking. Maybe now that we’re together again, we can consider moving. Maybe look at places in the country … the mountains.” As she spoke, she cleaned his wound with a spare length of gauze, bandaging it lightly.
“Anything you want, Kimberly. I’d live in a cardboard box in a dark alley if it meant curling up next to you every night.”
She wrinkled her nose and hit him lightly on the arm. “Yuck. I went through some tough times as a single mom, but my situation was never as dire as a cardboard box.”
“Wait ‘till you hear about some of the places I slept while I was hunting the Gruens. They’d make an alleyway look like The Ritz.”
“You’ll have to tell me everything,” she said, meaning it.
He nodded as he picked his t-shirt up and stuffed it into a pocket, simultaneously slipping his feet back into his boots and taking one of her hands in his. “You start – tell me where you got the guitar you took out that dog with.”
She pulled his flannel tight around her body as they started in the direction of the car. “I picked it up at the store last night, when I went to get breakfast supplies. It was on sale and I thought maybe you’d like to take up playing again.”
“It’s been a while. Not sure I could play a chord to save my life.”
“Maybe some time back in Music City will inspire you.”
“Maybe,” he said, slipping an arm around her waist as a breeze blew through the trees and yellow leaves rained down around them. “After these past two weeks, I reckon I believe just about anything is possible.”
Sparks and bullets fly as a werewolf pack in the Great Smoky Mountains grows from one lonely alpha to a strong pack united by love and loyalty.
Thank you for reading Bright Blue Moon.
Stay up to date with the entire Half Moon Shifters Series by visiting the Half Moon Shifters page at ranaerose.com anytime.
Other Half Moon Shifters Series books currently available…
Lonely Alpha (Half Moon Shifters, #1)
True Alpha (Half Moon Shifters, #2)
A Taste of Honey (Half Moon Shifters, #3)
Read on for an excerpt from A Taste of Honey.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Ranae Rose is the best-selling author of over a dozen adult romances and counting. She calls the US East Coast home and resides there with her family, German Shepherd dogs and overflowing bookshelves. Writing and reading are lifelong passions that consume most of her time, and she’s always working on bringing her latest love story idea to life for readers.
www.ranaerose.com
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A Taste of Honey
Love at first sight? Not exactly. Things work a little differently for wolf shifters, though hunky park ranger Ronnie is a dream to look at, especially when he’s in uniform. Violet’s senses have been telling her he’s the one since the first time she caught a hint of his scent. Could she really be destined to be the mate of a bear shifter? Their differences are undeniable, but that hasn’t stopped her from wondering what it would be like to live happily ever after with the drop-dead sexy ranger who also serves as war chief of the Great Smoky Mountains’ resident bear shifter tribe. But bears don’t detect their mates by scent – their methods are scintillatingly personal. Tension simmers, and one thing will either make or break both of their hopes for the future – a taste of honey.
Book 3 in the Half Moon Shifters Series
Read on for an excerpt…
A TASTE OF HONEY EXCERPT
His heart kept time, marking each passing second with ferocious beats as he guided his truck off the road and into his driveway. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, making them tingle and causing his throat to ache as he exited the cab and firmly closed its door. Maybe it was nothing – it was probably nothing – but it was his job to act as if it might be something and past experience had primed him for this moment, for any moment when it seemed danger might be threatening his tribe.
Or his mate. He was too intent on his current mission to eschew the thought completely. Violet might not be his mate, b
ut clearly his heart was convinced otherwise. Each heavy beat urged him to find her, to protect her and the longed-for possibility that she embodied. It was impossible to guard his heart or his hopes when he feared for her safety. Twisting the knob and walking through the unlocked front door, he called her name.
No response.
He strode quickly into the cabin and checked every room, even his bedroom. It was easy to imagine her there, but she was nowhere to be found. Upon returning to the kitchen, he found a full pot of coffee waiting, untouched. A quick glance afforded him a glimpse of the worm container, still tucked behind the coffeemaker. Had he really been worried about it? If Violet felt anything like what he felt for her – if they were really meant to be mated – it would take a lot more than a container of earthworms to drive her away.
He had to find her. The backdoor beckoned. He opened it, imagining her small hand closing around the knob after he’d left. She must have gone for a walk, like she’d mentioned. Why had he left her alone? He should’ve taken her along for the ride to the station, even if it would’ve meant her having to suffer through a meeting with Hargrove.
Remaining a man was out of the question. He needed to be fast, strong and able to rely on his senses when they were at their best. Without sparing a thought for his clothing, he shifted. His flannel, t-shirt and jeans fluttered to the ground like soft confetti as he assumed his bear form. This way, he could find her quickly and defend her if necessary.
It probably wouldn’t be necessary – a fact he kept reminding himself of as he entered the red, brown and gold shadowland of the forest and charged through, his heavy paws crushing small branches underfoot and compressing the dense carpet of fallen leaves that had accumulated over the past several months. He inhaled deeply as he ran, scenting the air for any trace of Violet. He’d grown accustomed to her clean, sweet fragrance and his heart leapt when it drifted to him on a breeze.
