Blue Moon Dragon

by Shelley Munro

  Shock, he thought. She’d fear him now, and he hated the idea. Too late, he realized he wanted her in his life. He shied from the word love, but it felt uncomfortably close to the emotion he swore he’d never let into his life again.

  * * * * *

  Surreal. She was shooting through the water on the back of a beast. And that beast was Jack.

  George Taniwha Investigators and Security.

  Emma’s heart thumped erratically, her breath catching as the waves rushed over Jack’s back and splashed her chest. She scrubbed the water from her face and coughed as she swallowed a mouthful. Despite her fear, exhilaration echoed her distress.

  The taniwha part of the company name was real. She was riding on the back of a dragon. Jack was a taniwha. He’d shifted and grabbed her before escape entered her head. She wrinkled her nose. Could be worse. She’d glimpsed his teeth. Children’s storybooks hadn’t exaggerated the sharp fangs.

  Another wave slapped her in the face. An undignified screech emerged, and she wrapped her hands around Jack’s neck. The water level crept higher. Reality check! She was in the middle of the bloody sea. God, she hated deep water.

  Instinctively, she clung tighter, curling her fingers into the slippery flesh of the taniwha—Jack. Bands of panic clamped her chest, stealing her breath. She was gonna drown and no one would ever learn of her fate. They’d go back to the island. Yes. Great idea. She glanced over her shoulder and her shoulders slumped. The three men brandishing guns on the shoreline put a realistic spin on the situation. They didn’t seem worried about the guests, although most were at lunch or at the clay pigeon shooting and wouldn’t notice the danger in their midst.

  No, returning wasn’t an option.

  She gripped Jack with her knees and kept her gaze off her the endless expanse of water. How fast did a taniwha swim anyway? Faster than a boat?

  Emma concentrated on the mainland, all the while praying they’d get there quick. She wondered about George and his sons. George’s wife Meri. Were they all taniwha? Did they look like Jack?

  The taniwha changed direction without warning, and Emma dug her fingers into the dragon’s hide for greater purchase. Alarm almost choked her until she realized Jack was heading for a part of the coast covered in bush. The first thing she intended to do was get her feet on solid ground. She might even kiss the solid surface. The waves increased in size without warning.

  Emma shrieked as one broke over her head. Panicked, she struggled, one hand loosening its grip on Jack to flail to the surface. Air. She needed air now.

  A growl filled the air, vibrating through her ears in sharp warning. Then, her head cleared the water and she sucked in a hoarse breath. Another wave crashed to shore but this one struck at shoulder level.

  The taniwha swam then stood at the water’s edge, four powerful limbs taking them to shore. Emma attempted to scramble off the creature’s back but Jack roared. She froze in place, unsure of what to do next.

  Jack lumbered up the beach with her on his back. He was a pretty color—reminding her of the inside of a green-lipped mussel shell—pearly gray with hints of pink and green. The color was the one attractive thing about the dragon. Emma found it hard to believe Jack and the taniwha were one. Jack was a man to die for. The taniwha was…had a face only a mother could love, yet they inhabited the same being. Her mind stuttered and the blip in her thought processes cleared.

  They were the same, and she really, really liked Jack.

  Problem solved.

  They crashed through low scrub and bush until Emma couldn’t see or hear the sea. The secondary regrowth gave way to larger trees—punga, karaka and manuka. The dragon continued with its uneven lope, taking a small overgrown path. Ferns brushed against them and the leaf litter cracked under its feet but Emma couldn’t hear a single bird.

  The taniwha—Jack—never hesitated. Gradually, the shadows gave way and they emerged into a clearing. Jack stopped, and she cautiously pried her fingers free and slid across his slippery back to the ground. They eyed one another but the taniwha broke contact first. He lumbered over to a punga and stripped several of the branches from the fern tree. After laying them on the ground, the taniwha turned to her and gestured with a clawed arm.

  Okaay. It appeared they were staying.

  “I’m going to find help.” Emma turned to leave.

  A roar echoed through the clearing. Strident like a clap of thunder directly overhead, the bark of sound made her leap in fright. She took another step and the taniwha sidled closer and herded her back to the leafy bed on the ground.

  “All right,” she snapped. “I get the picture.” Maybe there was something of Jack in the taniwha after all. They were both bossy.

  Emma sat on a fallen log and glared. The dragon’s mouth widened, and she could have sworn the creature was smirking.

  Day passed to night and the temperature dropped. Emma shivered, fighting the need to sleep, her head dropping to her chest before she jerked awake again.

  Suddenly, Jack grunted. He ambled over and scooped her off the log before she could scramble away.

  “I don’t think—”

  He growled and flashed his teeth.

  “All right!”

  Jack placed her on the fern bed and positioned himself beside her.

  “You could have told me instead of scaring me half to death. I thought you were trying to drown me,” Emma stated with a trace of defiance.

  Jack grunted, the sound coming close to a bark of amusement.

  Emma turned away. She wouldn’t sleep—she knew it—but she might as well pretend.

  The twitter of birds woke her at first light the next morning. She rolled over, away from the clammy warmth to see Jack, still in taniwha form, studying her warily.

  “Morning,” she mumbled, self-consciously finger combing her messy curls. “When do you change back? You do change back, right?”

  Jack grunted. He seemed to do that a lot but she was no linguist. Each grunt sounded much the same.

  He walked heavily toward a path the other side of the clearing then stopped to glance at Emma.

  She sighed. “All right. I’m coming.”

  They walked for hours, navigating heavy bush, scrambling up and down hills. By late afternoon, Emma was footsore, tired and desperately hungry. When they reached a clearing and a bubbling stream, she stopped, refusing to go a step farther without rest.

  She glared at Jack, half expecting a thunderous protest but he shrugged and strode into the stream where he spent ten minutes splashing like a playful child. Then, he stepped from the water and stood before her. His skin glowed in the sunshine. He shimmered.

  Emma blinked as the air around him shifted. The length of his jaw changed, becoming smaller before her eyes. “He’s transforming,” she whispered, amazement coloring her voice as his long tail disappeared.

  Soon, all that remained of the taniwha was the whiff of fish and mangrove mud that lingered in the air.

  Jack took a cautious step toward Emma. She hadn’t behaved in the way he’d expected. She hadn’t screamed, at least until she’d realized he intended to swim to the mainland. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “You make a very ugly dragon.”

  Jack scowled. “There is nothing wrong with my taniwha appearance. I look the same as all the others.”

  A slow grinned danced across her face as she scanned him. “You’re stark naked.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Um, I’m glad we didn’t drown?”

  That was it? Reaction buckled his knees, and Jack sank to the ground.

  She closed the distance between them and crouched beside him. She placed her palm on his forehead and frowned. “Are you okay?”

  “The last woman who saw me in taniwha form panicked. She fled the scene and was so traumatized she crashed her car into a tree. It was my fault she died.”

  “Oh, please,” Emma scoffed. “How was it your fault? You made her drive? You made her crash?”

 
Bemusement filled Jack as her wide, bright smile bloomed. He opened his mouth and closed it again. Hope bloomed and his cock rose in a silent demand. She looked damn sexy with that snooty, superior expression on her face.

  “So what do we do now? Have we got enough to fry Mahoney’s ass?”

  “Don’t you care that I change into a dragon when the moon is full?” He’d leave the explanation about sex for later. The issue was clouded enough already. No, he’d give her the worst now. “When the full moon approaches, I need sex several times a day to help me maintain human form.”

  “It doesn’t have any bearing on our case,” Emma said, but her cheeks flushed a bright red. “Can we get Mahoney for running the sports-drug racket and selling illicit movies? We have to do something. He’s a creep. Besides, I don’t want our images for sale on the net.”

  He didn’t want that either. They’d get back every damn copy and destroy the master. But maybe he’d keep one for private viewing. “I love you,” he said, his gut bucking with uncertainty.

  “You do? About time!” Emma dropped to the ground at his side. She plucked at the white flowers of a manuka tree, before looking up to flash him a blinding smile. “It took you long enough to work it out for yourself. The sex part is fine with me. I enjoy sex with you.”

  Was that it? Didn’t women get off on this emotion stuff? He stared at Emma, willing her to tell him she loved him, too. She wasn’t a casual girl. She must feel something for him. They hadn’t had sex, dammit. They’d made love.

  “So, are we going to charge Mahoney?” She dug deep inside her shorts pocket and pulled out a foil pack of pills. “I took this from the room where they held me.”

  Jack straightened in alarm. “What did they do to you?” She seemed all right, but he knew about hidden wounds.

  “Tied me up.” She shrugged. “I managed to get loose, and I threw a rock at the guy they left to look after me.”

  Shit, she’d even escaped by herself. Why did she need him around if she could rescue herself? “We have enough to make life difficult for Mahoney,” he said finally.

  “Good. Let’s go.”

  “I need clothes.”

  Emma surveyed him with a long, leisurely gaze then bared her teeth in a wide grin of unholy delight. “Does this happen a lot? I mean you look pretty without clothes but doesn’t it get a little cold?”

  Jack reached over to stroke her cheek. “Not if I have a willing woman to keep me warm.”

  “I won’t share.” Her eyes narrowed in warning. “I expect you to concentrate on me. No other women.”

  “Other women?” Jack didn’t mind admitting it—he was having trouble keeping up with her today. She wasn’t reacting how he thought she should. In other words, she was confusing the hell out of him.

  “We are getting married. Right?”

  “You haven’t told me you love me.” Jack didn’t have to pretend confusion. Marriage? With Emma? The idea didn’t scare him as it would have a week ago. In fact, the more he thought about it, the better the notion sounded.

  Marriage and Emma.

  That would mean no one else could steal her away.

  “You silly man.” Emma’s blue eyes were full of laughter and something else. Tenderness. Caring. Her expression made him hope for a future and maybe children. “Jack Sullivan, I have loved you for months. Haven’t you noticed that women fall over themselves to go out with you? Why wouldn’t I want you? Come on. If we don’t hurry, we’ll have to spend another night outdoors.” She stood and held a hand out for him to take. “You need clothes.”

  “I have a friend who lives not far from here. He’ll help us, and we can report to George.”

  “Great. I hope he has food.” Emma couldn’t believe Jack didn’t know how she felt about him. He grasped her hand and tugged until she fell against his naked chest. His eyes glittered as he stared at her and her heart thudded with sensual awareness. Oh, yeah. She loved him like crazy.

  A taniwha.

  It didn’t matter. Living with a man who changed into a less than pretty dragon worked for her since the sex was great. Hot. Mind-blowing. Awesome. In fact, it made her hot just thinking about touching him. As she’d come to know him more her liking and respect had grown. She grinned as another thought occurred. Was that why George and the rest of his operatives appeared exhausted at certain times of the month?

  “I love you, Jack.” Emma pressed a chaste kiss to his lips.

  He hugged her and deepened the kiss.

  She smiled against his mouth, feeling so happy she wanted to cry. As far as twenty-fifth birthday presents went, winning Jack’s love was a doozey. And now she’d caught the man, she did not intend to let him go. It might take him a while to get the idea, but she had patience enough for them both…

  The End

  CURSE OF THE WOLF

  Shelley Munro

  Blurb

  Walk the ghostly world. Howl at the moon.

  Jess Whittlebury purchases Tavistock Manor to convert into a quaint English bed and breakfast, but the manor comes with a resident—a werewolf ghost who steps right into her dreams, investing them with erotic toe-tingling pleasures, laughter and passion. Jess doesn’t believe in supernatural creatures but her dreams are certainly memorable and very realistic—and she’s decided to enjoy them for all she’s worth.

  Alone Brandon Lupinus until need forces you to act, as a decent man should.

  Since the day a witch cursed him, Brandon Lupinus has walked alone, tied to Tavistock, his ancestral home. Jess’s arrival brings unexpected changes—corporeal changes. For the first time in centuries Brandon experiences passionate, unbridled sex that ignites his ghostly world with new possibilities. New problems. Brandon is no longer alone but he still can’t seem to break his curse and offer Jess the future she deserves. Until fate steps in in an unexpected way…

  Chapter One

  “You’re the new owner of Tavistock Manor.” The elderly lady who approached Jess’s table carried a cane and appeared frail, but her eyes were full of curious intelligence.

  Jess Whittlebury held back a smile, aware she’d been under observation from the moment she’d strolled the cobblestone street with its quaint bow-window shops and entered the Brass Kettle Tea Shop. She’d made a silent bet with herself as to how long it would take one of the elderly women to approach. Jess set her teacup down in the duck-egg-blue china saucer. She leaned back in her wooden chair and nodded at the woman across the vase of fresh flowers. “Yes, I’m Jess Whittlebury.”

  “I hear you’re turning the manor into a bed and breakfast,” the tiny gray-haired woman said.

  In her peripheral vision Jess noticed the other women craning their necks, ears practically flapping with eagerness to hear the conversation.

  “That’s right,” Jess said, and to appease their curiosity she added, “I fell in love with the manor when I drove up the winding road and glimpsed it amongst the oak trees. The medieval church and narrow streets of the village remind me of the town where I grew up in Yorkshire. I’ve purchased my own slice of heaven.”

  The lady leaned closer in a confidential manner. “You know it’s haunted.”

  Her audience seemed to hold a collective breath. Jess stifled her amusement. The real estate agent had informed her of the manor’s extra resident, but that only increased the potential for her bed and breakfast. American tourists loved history, and a spooky ghost story added pounds onto her investment.

  “I’ve heard.”

  “The ghost is real. On a clear night you can hear him howling.”

  “The werewolf,” Jess said. “I wonder why he howls in that manner.”

  The elderly woman snorted. “Romantics say he pines for his true love. I think he’s tired of being alone. You should watch yourself, Miss Jess. Our local legends are full of werewolf tales. There’s always an element of truth in myth and legend.”

  Another woman ambled up to Jess’s table, slow because of the excess weight she carried. “These days it’s not saf
e for a body to live or walk alone. Megan Dean, the schoolmaster’s daughter was attacked and robbed last week. They say if the landscaper hadn’t driven past and scared them off, it could have been much worse.”

  “Tish-tosh,” the first lady said in a chiding manner. “Don’t scare Miss Jess. I’m sure her bed and breakfast will provide lots of visitors to the village. Besides, a ghost werewolf is better than an alarm or guard dog.”

  “True enough, Hilda.” The second lady nodded. “It’s good to have new blood. We don’t want our village to die like Martindale. They are overrun with ethnic restaurants and shops offering cheap imports from overseas. Martindale has lost its character.”

  Jess smiled and picked up the china teapot to refresh her cup. She added another slice of lemon and took a sip. Talk of ghosts didn’t dampen her excitement. Jess Whittlebury was in pursuit of a dream. A little physical work to tame the overgrown garden and some repairs and remodeling inside was all the property required. Thanks to her father and brother, she had the skills to complete most of the work on her own. In about three months she’d open for the start of the summer season, and she couldn’t be happier.

  * * * * *

  Jess worked in the garden for most of the afternoon, rescuing roses from suffocation. A cool breeze lashed her cheeks and tugged at her heavy coat but she continued yanking the weeds and digging out clumps of grass that choked the original garden beds. With winter still grasping the countryside, she needed to take advantage of days where it didn’t rain or, worse, snow. Luckily, the winter had been mild and the snow had disappeared over a month ago. She hoped the mild weather continued.

  Finally when it was too dark to see more than her hand in front of her face, she stood and flexed her aching shoulders. Jess collected her spade and headed for the house.

  Without warning, the wail of the wind ceased and the mournful cry of a wolf resounded through the valley. She gasped, her heart drumming against her ribs. The hairs at the back of her neck bristled and she scarcely breathed until the final echoes died. A second howl followed.