The Wolf Moon (an erotic paranormal romance) (The Wolf Ring)

by Harris, Meg

  The black wolf sniffed the silvery wolf that was Rhea thoroughly, then lifted his head. The green eyes glared straight at Graeme, and the lips curled even more, displaying the terrible canine teeth.

  Without the slightest intention of doing so, Graeme showed his own teeth as well. He heard a sound rumble from his chest, a feral snarl.

  The wolf stared at him for a moment longer, then shifted. Its body changed quickly, its outlines rippling, then reforming itself into a dark-haired human male. The guy was big, as tall as Graeme, and as well muscled. And just as naked. One of his ears was tattered, echoing his wolf form, but otherwise he was a good-looking guy except for a hint of cruelty around the mouth, and a cold glint in the emerald eyes.

  “So,” the other man said, his voice dripping with scorn. “You’ve come crawling back to the Ring Rhea. You and this… freak.”

  Graeme felt the hairs on his neck prickle in response to the contempt in the other man’s voice. He fought back the reaction, and glared, refusing to lower his gaze. Something deep and instinctive told him that looking away from the other man’s eyes would be seen as weakness.

  Rhea shifted. She stood in front of the other man, beautiful and naked, and utterly unashamed of her nudity. Graeme felt rage that the other man was able to see her body, and when the man’s gaze swept insolently down her form, he wanted to kill. He forced his rage back, and waited.

  “I came for the Ring’s help,” Rhea said. Her head was low, her voice soft. She was not the proud and sensual nymph he’d met in the forest, but a submissive and cowed wolf cringing in front of an alpha male. “He is—caught. Trapped between forms. And he is in pain. He needs help, Arthur.”

  The other man—Arthur—drew in a breath, his nostrils flaring. His green eyes lit with rage. “You have mated with him.”

  “Yes.” Rhea spoke softly, but with conviction. “He is my mate.”

  “No.” Arthur’s voice was cold. “You are my mate. I won you when I killed your mate. It is the law.”

  Rhea lifted her head. “It is an obsolete law.”

  “Nevertheless, it is the law. You are mine. I killed for you.” Arthur’s voice was a deadly growl. “And I will gladly do it again if I must.”

  Rhea looked as if she wanted to argue, but she seemed to choke back her outrage, and lowered her chin again. “He cannot fight you,” she said softly. “He is trapped between shapes, unable to assume wolf form. It would not be a fair fight.”

  “That will not stop me from killing him.”

  A soft noise rippled among the assembled wolves, a low growl. It sounded almost like a noise of outrage. Graeme had the impression none of the wolves cared overmuch for their leader, and yet he doubted any of them would intervene if Arthur turned back into a wolf and tore him to shreds. Apparently the law was all-important among the wolves.

  “I brought him here to beg your help,” Rhea said quietly. “He is one of us, part of the Ring. He needs our help.”

  “And you may have it. Under one condition.”

  Her back stiffened. “Which is?”

  “That you accept me as your mate.”

  No! Graeme tried to snap out, but all that emerged was a rough and formless sound, a growling, rumbling noise that sounded neither human nor wolf. He snarled with frustration. Rhea was his. His, damn it.

  “I have already mated with him,” Rhea said.

  “Illicitly. You are mine, under the law. You left us to escape the law—but now you have returned. If you want our help, you must accept the law. You will be mine.”

  Rhea turned her head, looking at Graeme. He could only imagine how he looked to her. He was a monster, a freak, whereas Arthur was a well-formed and handsome man, and in his wolf shape, a magnificent canine. There was, he thought wretchedly, no reason for her to pick him over Arthur.

  Rhea stared at him a moment longer, then lowered her head and spoke in a meek tone.

  “Yes,” she said softly. “I am yours, Arthur.”

  The terrible grief in her voice cut through Graeme’s fog of pain, and something Arthur had said replayed inside his head. I won you when I killed your mate.

  And he remembered Rhea’s voice, aching with sorrow: He was murdered. I loved him with every fiber of my being.

  This man had killed Rhea’s husband, and now had the effrontery to claim her as his own. He was a murderer, and she must loathe him.

  And yet she was willing to accept the cruel, heartless law of her people and mate with him, in order to help Graeme.

  Admiration swept through him, along with a wave of emotion so intense it almost hurt. She was magnificent. And she was his, his, and he would fight for her. He would gladly die for her if he must.

  But no. He couldn’t die and leave her without a protector, because it was plain that no one in the wolf pack—the Ring—would lift a paw to protect her.

  He—a misshapen, monstrous, grotesque half-man—was all that stood between her and a terrible fate. He was the only one who could save her.

  And save her he would, damn it.

  Arthur reached out for her, his eyes alight with a fierce possessiveness.

  Graeme roared and leaped forward, slashing at the other man with his taloned hand.

  Chapter Seven

  The swipe of Graeme’s paw/hand did little damage, as his claws were relatively blunt, in the canine fashion. But the blow was hard enough to send Arthur stumbling backward. He went to his knees—and changed in the blink of an eye.

  Graeme had barely an instant to see the black wolf hurtling through the air at him, its jaws open, its teeth glinting. Despite the pain that racked him at every movement, he reached out and caught it by the scruff of its neck, then flung it, hard. The wolf yelped involuntarily as it slammed into a tree trunk and fell hard to the ground.

  But it was up again, almost instantly, and this time it dove for his ankles, slashing. Graeme roared with pain as its fangs cut almost to the bone. He grabbed for it, but the wolf danced back, out of his reach. He tried to pursue it, but in his current form he shambled rather than walked, and moving quickly was beyond him. By the time he had turned, it was slashing at him again.

  Graeme roared again, and kicked hard. His foot made contact with the wolf’s ribs, hard enough to wring another yelp from the brute, and in his current superstrong state, his kick sent the wolf tumbling over and over.

  The wolf leaped to its feet, its green eyes blazing, and began to circle him, more cautiously this time. Arthur had apparently realized that despite his awkward half-human form, Graeme was not as easy a victim as expected. Graeme turned, in his shambling, stumbling fashion, trying to keep an eye on the beast. He knew that if it got its fangs into his throat or abdomen, or at the back of his neck, he was finished.

  He hurt like hell. Every bone, every sinew, ached and throbbed, and the terrible gash the wolf’s fangs had left on his ankle felt like fire. He felt the blood trickling from it, and wondered if he was losing enough blood to make him eventually pass out. He felt lightheaded, but wasn’t sure if that was from loss of blood, or sheer overwhelming pain.

  He could no longer convince himself that this was a hallucination. The pain had proven that it was real, all too real. He was a half-human monster, battling for his life against an angry wolf. Battling for his mate.

  The black wolf feinted to the left, then lunged to his right. Graeme tried to move more quickly than his awkward balance allowed, and his foot slipped on the blood-wet leaves beneath him. He fell heavily onto his back, completely vulnerable, his stomach and throat exposed to the wolf’s terrible fangs.

  He knew he was going to die.

  *****

  By the law of the Ring, Rhea knew she was not to interfere in a battle between males. The old law—the law that was rarely followed in these days—had been intended to determine which of the two males was stronger, which was better suited to survive to sire pups and pass his name on to the next generation. By the law, she could not interfere.

  But the law was obsolete.r />
  That was why she’d left the Ring in the first place, because after Arthur had come to power, he’d insisted on enforcing a law that was better left in the past. He’d killed her husband and tried to take her as his own.

  He’d been wrong.

  And he was wrong now.

  She hadn’t interfered in the fight between Bryce and Arthur, and she regretted that. Law or no law, she felt she should have been there at her mate’s side, striving to protect him. But at least the two wolves had been more or less evenly matched, and as much as she hated to admit it, Arthur had won fairly.

  This wasn’t fair. Graeme was caught between forms, awkward and unbalanced, unable to fight properly, and it was almost a certainty that Arthur would be the victor.

  This wasn’t a battle. It was slaughter.

  She saw Graeme go down, saw the huge black wolf lunge in for the kill.

  Without the slightest instant of hesitation, she shifted, and met the black wolf with a furious charge of her own.

  *****

  Lying on his back, Graeme roared in fear as he saw Rhea’s silvery wolf form leap between his supine body and Arthur. She was much smaller than the alpha, in her wolf form as well as in her human form, and she couldn’t hope to defeat him. And in his bloodlust, Arthur might well kill her.

  Graeme struggled to his hands and knees. Rhea yelped as Arthur’s fangs dug into her shoulder. The clouds parted, and a ray of moonlight struck the clearing, letting him see the dark blood as it seeped into her silver fur. Fury filled him, the primitive fury of a wolf determined to protect his mate, no matter the cost.

  The moonlight washed over him, and he felt its warmth. It wasn’t a full moon, but he could nevertheless feel its power. Adrenaline surged inside him, fueled by possessive, protective rage, and he lifted his head, letting the moonlight fill him. His skin rippled, and his bones seemed to rearrange themselves.

  And then he wasn’t kneeling on his hands and knees any longer, but standing on four paws. He snarled—a true canine sound of ferocity—and bounded forward as Arthur slashed for Rhea’s side again.

  The force of his charge bowled Arthur over, and Graeme’s fangs dug into the side of Arthur’s neck, finding a grip and holding on, pressing the other wolf to the earth. Not a death grip, but inescapable… and painful. Arthur gave voice to the pain in a series of yelps.

  Graeme snarled, shaking the other wolf as if he were a mouse. Arthur yelped more, and rolled over slightly, showing his furry belly in a gesture of submission.

  Graeme knew it would be an easy matter to readjust his grip slightly, and rip out the other wolf’s throat, or disembowel him. His instincts urged him to kill—to kill the wolf who’d hurt his mate, and tried to claim her as his own. To avenge his mate’s tragic loss. To kill the coward who’d so willingly attacked a half-shifted man who was unable to properly defend himself.

  But he wasn’t just a wolf. He was also a man. And despite the savage instincts surging inside him, he didn’t want to kill Arthur unnecessarily. Because that would make him a murderer.

  Just like Arthur.

  He released the other wolf, and Arthur crawled away on his belly, beaten and terrified. Still whimpering, he slunk into the underbrush and vanished.

  Victorious, Graeme lifted his head, surveying the other wolves. Apparently, he reflected, he hadn’t needed the full moon to effect the complete change. The overpowering need to protect his mate, to defend her, had been enough. He was a wolf now, covered in dark gray fur. Not a mutant, but a wolf. A wolf who was also a man.

  Still in wolf form, Rhea approached him, licking his jaw in an adoring gesture of affection and submission. He sniffed her, finding that her wound was already healing. Something inside him assured him that the members of the Ring had incredible healing powers, and somehow he knew she would recover readily enough.

  The pendant, he thought in shocked wonderment. It’s telling me what I need to know.

  In this form, the pendant wasn’t hanging around his neck. It had somehow become a part of him. And yet he knew that when he shifted back, it would reappear… but he would never be able to remove it again.

  Rhea stood by his side, every line of her lupine body filled with pride and satisfaction, and he looked over the pack. The Ring.

  His Ring. He had defeated the leader, and that meant he was the alpha now.

  Spurred by instinct, he lifted his head, and a long, eerie howl rose from his throat. The rest of the pack lifted their heads as well, and a chorus of wolf song rang out through the night.

  The sound filled him with a strange and savage joy. He had a mate. A new family. A new life. He knew nothing whatsoever about what awaited him as a wolf, and wondered how much of his life he would spend as a human, and how much as a wolf.

  Right now he had more questions than answers. But at this moment, all that really mattered was that he had Rhea by his side. She was his, forever… and he was hers.

  His life, he thought, looking over the other wolves, had been utterly transformed tonight.

  And so had he.

  -The End-

  Read the other books in the Wolf Ring series:

  The Wolf Ring

  The Wolf Hunger