Under the Full Moon (Crimson Romance)

by Bobbi Romans

  Under the Full Moon

  Book 2 in the Swamp Magic Series

  Bobbi Romans, author of Swamp Magic

  Avon, Massachusetts

  This edition published by

  Crimson Romance

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, Ohio 45242

  www.crimsonromance.com

  Copyright © 2013 by Bobbi Romans

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-6901-0

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6901-2

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6902-9

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6902-9

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Cover art © 123rf.com

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  More from This Author

  Also Available

  Chapter One

  Grace McKinney leaned over the dock’s edge and tried to ignore the restless feeling that left her all itchy, lost in thought as she stared out into the serene Florida swamp. This was the one place where life stayed pretty simple. Survive. No second-guessing whether you said or did something wrong. Wake, eat, drink and avoid the predators. Boom — done. No drama. Well, unless you were eaten by something bigger and hungrier than you. Unlike now, where she wondered and worried about the sexy shifter, Damien. She met him while rescuing her niece from the clutches of the swamp witch Octavia. The once fabled dark entity that stalked the swamps gobbling up virile young men who caught her eye. Turns out the bad ass fable was sadly true.

  Then to get slammed with the fact they killed the old hag only to have her dramatic and equally evil son rise in power. Perfect. Just fucking peachy. The bright spot had been meeting Damien. An acquaintance of Moss’s. Not necessarily friends prior to the battle, the frenemies put aside any and all differences to form an alliance and really pack a punch in the fight.

  She’d been so sure Damien had begun settling to life outside his secret domain. Yeah, she understood her armadillo swamp shifter friend would be nervous. Accepted it would take awhile for him to become as comfortable here in her world, which included run-ins with the public, as he’d been in his. Really thought they’d made progress. Then one evening, while sitting fireside at her cabin, Damien grew quiet — oddly so considering he’d been the one to encourage her to open up and prompted most of their conversations. Grace suspected he’d had a change of heart. When she awoke the next morning, he’d gone. She assumed back to his cave in the heart of the swamp lands. She did her best to pretend she wasn’t disappointed. Hurt even.

  After all they’d gone through with her niece, Beth, and Beth’s fiancé, Moss, during the melee with Octavia, Grace thought she and Damien had formed a bond of sorts. Hoped Damien would chose to stay. Even considered briefly maybe they could be more than friends. The battle they’d gone through together had been grueling, and though they’d won, the war still brewed. Turned out the evil Octavia, who’d cursed both Damien and Moss into the shifters they’d become, bore an illegitimate son. Just their luck that son, Demetrius, decided to take over his deceased mother’s helm in some secret and evil society.

  At the very least, Grace wished Damien would have lingered long enough to say his goodbyes in person. If nothing else a letter. But there was no note. No thanks for your hospitality. Nothing.

  Knew I should have offered him my bed. Least then I could have eased one thing ailing me.

  When Beth took Moss back to her place, Grace offered Damien the guest room. Prude she wasn’t, but that said, they didn’t really know each other. She’d hoped the sparks flying between them would build, not diminish. Guess not.

  “Knock, knock. You home?”

  “Out here.” She didn’t want to even try explaining to her niece how she felt, because truthfully she hadn’t a clue.

  “I take he hasn’t contacted you yet?” Beth spat.

  Though they’d always been close, since the battle, they’d become ever closer. More than just family love. Her niece had grown into her best friend and confidant. She’d even let her in on the secret of her past. Her deepest heartache. That of her long missing fiancé, Henry. He’d gone into the swamps back in their youth and never returned. Until Moss and Damien explained about the rumor of the swamp, of the one shifter that chose to become one with the creature he’d been cursed with, she’d thought Henry killed by one of the many swamp predators.

  “No. Damien needs time. All of this,” she waved her hands around the place, “among the humans is a rather big adjustment for someone like him.” In truth she was sure of that. Hiding in the swamps for years because of Octavia’s curse had to have taken some sort of mental toll.

  “Yeah, maybe. He’s still being an asshat though.” Beth leaned over and hugged her, apparently noting her goose bumped skin when she rubbed her arms.

  “How long have you been out here?” Beth asked, worry lacing her words.

  “Not long, but the temp is dropping quick. Want me to make us some hot tea … ah, hell. Want a shot of Scotch?”

  “Now you’re talking.” Beth piped up.

  “You know what’s kinda weird? I’d have laid money on Moss suffering the first meltdown.”

  “Not saying anything against your Bog Man, but yeah, I rather thought the same. But seems Moss took to town life like a lizard to a heat lamp.”

  Beth chocked on her Scotch at the reference to Moss and his reptilian side. Happily, it came with night vision, strength and aquatic feats that would shame the best of Olympians coupled with the sexy as hell tattoos, which in fact were silken-esque scales.

  “Oh well. We all have our reasons for things. He’ll probably contact me one day to explain his reason for leaving.” Grace hoped sooner rather than later.

  “He could have at least said goodbye.”

  “I’m sure he will. We’ve all been through too much. Speaking of, you’ve been holding back with the all those magical abilities of yours.” Ice tinked as Beth tipped her glass back and forth smiling, yet thinking.

  “Honestly? Not really. Much like you coming into your own now, sometimes it takes the extreme, like a life or death situation to unleash what’s been lying dormant.” Grace ran a circle over her heart.”Magic is purest when used towards saving another.”

  “Makes sense. But that whole projection thing … you should so ditch your cell phone company.” Beth teased, Grace knew to try and lighten her sadness over Damien’s sudden departure.

  “While the savings would be great, using projection, or telepathy, is quite taxing. It’s there and I can tap it during emergencies but doing so for chatty conversations with my niece would be a bit much.” She jibbed.

  • • •

  Damien felt like death. Being sober after a weeklong drunk held a steep price. One he now paid. His head pounded and even th
e low lighting hurt his eyes.

  You’re a complete loser. You had a gorgeous, smart woman who wanted you. And what did you do? Haul ass. Nice move, bro.

  He still couldn’t believe how spooked he’d become. Yeah you did, because Grace is so far out of your league a real relationship isn’t even plausible, dumbass.

  Man was she sexy. Tall, fair-haired and blue-eyed. Grace had everything. Looks and brains and she’d intimidated the hell out of him. Damn, he’d taken on all kinds of bad … and yet one sultry woman had him tucking tail and booking it back home where he remained king and secure. She was so perfect and powerful. Too much of both for the likes of someone like him.

  He chucked the empty whiskey bottle across his chamber and watched the shattering amber glass rain down in jagged shards. He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length dark hair. Damn, but if his dick didn’t get hard simply thinking about her. Oh he had it bad and she held the cure to fixing that bad.

  Damn shame you’re too much of a pussy to go get cured.

  The sound of tumbling pebbles sent him to high alert.

  Someone lurked about in his cave. Considering it sat off the beaten path in the middle of the alligator-infested swamp, it wasn’t some spelunker out exploring. Damien snatched his machete and blew out the candles, plunging his domain in darkness. Whoever intruded would soon regret their chosen path.

  Damien crept through the tunnels, listening for any telltale signs of movement. Sure enough, far off to the right, he made out a light scuffling. Snuffing out the last candle, he laid flat against one of the cave walls crevices and waited.

  Closer the intruder came, step by step until close enough for Damien to take out.

  Grumphh.

  Crack.

  His knuckles contacted bone. Teeth clattered. Flesh struck flesh as he fought to neutralize the trespasser, who was definitely male.

  “Fuck, dude, I mean you no threat. I came bearing a message.”

  Each had one hand around the other’s throat and one fist drawn back to strike.

  “Who the fuck are you?” Damien asked in a strangled garb and strained vocal chords.

  “Name’s Trick and I don’t want to be here anymore than you want me to be. I can assure your stank ass of that.”

  Oomph. Damien grinned when the kid grabbed for his stomach after he tapped it. With his fist.

  “Dude, what the hell?”

  “That, dude, was for calling me stank ass. This however,” Whack. “is for intruding on my personal space.”

  “Geez.”

  Damien watched the kid double over and spit blood before straightening again.

  “So, what’s the message and who’s it from?”

  “He didn’t give me his name, only the message to warn you about being around some chick named Grace.”

  Damien bristled at the warning. There was only one person left who held any kind of power over him. Demetrius, the son of his maker, Octavia, the swamp witch. He understood the warning wasn’t a threat against his person, but against Grace. Demetrius had taken a shine to her, and Damien didn’t doubt he wouldn’t do whatever he had to in order to obtain her. That including threatening her and all those she held dear.

  And he’d tucked tail and left her alone at the cabin.

  Shit.

  “Okay, message received. Now get the fuck out of here.” He turned, planning to grab some shit and head back to Grace’s when he realized the kid lingered.

  “Not waiting on a tip are you?” The kid snickered and looked like he wanted to ask something, but wasn’t sure if he should.

  “Oh for Christ’s sake. Ask already.” He didn’t have time to coddle, not that he would, but he didn’t want to head down the tunnel leading to his chamber until the punk was gone.

  “What are you?”

  “What’s it to you?”

  “Nothing. Curious is all.”

  Something about the kid intrigued him. Big, but young. Early twenties at best and appeared more than a bit lost. Still seemed uncomfortable in his new skin. Damien wondered how long the kid had been cursed. He’d bet recently. Maybe even Octavia’s last curse.

  “Tell you what. Why don’t we agree to say neither of us are exactly who we once we were. Work for you?”

  “Yeah, works.”

  Though Damien didn’t see any immediate harm in disclosing the animal he shared within, he didn’t trust anyone one hundred percent and chose to keep mum. Fact was, he didn’t know the kid.

  “Catch ya around.”

  “Uh, yeah, okay kid.”

  “And dude?”

  “Yeah?” Damien asked briskly as his patience fled.

  “Watch your back. Freak who gave me the message, well, let’s just say he’s off, mentally. You get me?”

  “Oh I got ya kid, don’t worry about me.” Damien stiffened at the reminded threat and waited until the kid left his sight before packing some weapons to race to Grace.

  • • •

  Grace turned off the last light when the phone rang.

  “What’d you forget?” From as far back as she remembered Beth always forgot something behind whenever she left.

  “Ha, what makes you think I forgot anything?”

  “Because you always do.”

  “Well, no. At least not that I know of at the moment. Wanted to tell you Moss offered to head into the swamp tomorrow to check on Damien.”

  “No. I thank you both for your concerns, but I truly think he just needs some time. Alone. Without harassment. Please.” Silence meant Beth was deciding whether to argue, and Grace prayed this one time her niece would listen and let the issue drop. At least for now.

  “All right, if you think that’s best.” Beth sighed in the background as if she didn’t agree.

  “I do. Men don’t like to be pushed. If and when he chooses to do that again, I want to know it was his decision and not from some false sense of obligation.”

  “You might be right. He does seem rather bull-headed. Well, sweet dreams and I’ll call you in the morning. Oh, one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “He didn’t by chance tell you what he was, did he?”

  Grace laughed. She’d thought Beth knew, but apparently not.

  “Well as he didn’t mention it was some kind of secret, yes. I know what animal he shares his spirit with.”

  “Well for the love of God, would someone tell me please?”

  “Curiosity … ” Beth cut off the rest of her sentence.

  “Killed the cat. Yeah, yeah, I know. But Moss wouldn’t tell me. Told me it wasn’t his secret to tell and now I’m the only one who doesn’t know.”

  “He’s an armadillo shifter.”

  “He’s a what?”

  “An armadillo shifter.”

  “Oooh, that makes sense. I remember Moss saying armor up, back in the battle we had with Octavia at the cave.”

  “Yes, he has control of the vessels in his body and can, at will, cause the capillaries to expand and harden his skin. Makes it almost armor-like and nearly impossible to penetrate.”

  “That’s some pretty awesome shit. He doesn’t turn into a … ?”

  Grace laughed before explaining. “No, just takes on the qualities of as I stated. He also has exceptional night vision and scent.”

  “Alright. Curiosity settled now. Oh crap, gotta run.”

  Grace heard the husky whisper in the background. Moss wanted her off the phone and like then. She covered her mouth to keep from laughing. She wished them all the happiness in the world. They deserved it.

  The cabin was stuffy and a bit humid even in her sheer shift. Opening the windows, she took in the cool evening breeze. Perfect. Except for the eerie silence.

  Too quiet.

  Not a screech from the owls or chirps from crickets. She lived in a more secluded section of the swamp, but even out here, the occasional barking from dogs traveled her way. Grace grabbed the bat she kept by the bedside and crept towards the living room. She rarely locked
her doors, but her instincts screamed something was off. She turned the flip-bolt to the lock on the front door and headed over to secure the back patio door.

  The hairs rose on the back of her neck she couldn’t pinpoint the source. She scanned the dark of the cabin, any and every shadow, yet nothing was out of place.

  Her imagination must be running amok.

  Shaking her head, she headed for bed. Sleep. A good night’s sleep would chase away the funk she was in … hopefully. If nothing else maybe she’d dream of Damien and all the things she wanted to do with him.

  “Hello, Grace.”

  She screamed, dropping the bat.

  Chapter Two

  Damien emerged from the swamp, soaked to the bone, but he warmed quickly as his thoughts turned to seeing Grace again. He wanted her safe and preferably naked and beneath him. He didn’t deserve someone like Grace, but she was lonely and if nothing else maybe they could offer each other some companionship. What was the new phrase he’d heard? Friends with benefits. Yeah, he’d love nothing more. She could use him all she needed until she found a more worthy mate from her side of the world.

  Images of her lithe body wrapped around his drew a storm of emotions raging within. Those ripe breasts, taunt belly and hell yeah, lean legs perched on either side of his face. A feast for any man lucky enough to catch her attention.

  Down, boy. We gotta get forgiveness for disappearing before we got a shot at easing anything going blue.

  Damien hoped she didn’t slam the door in his face. Prayed she’d listen to his explanation. What the hell was he going to say anyway? I pussed out and ran home. Fuck. He’d had the entire trip over to think of something, and what’d he do? Think about fucking her.

  He rapped on the glass patio door figuring she’d be pissed about the late hour. But after Trick’s warning, he wouldn’t chance leaving her alone for a minute longer than necessary. When she didn’t answer he cruised around front to check for her car.

  Yup, her little blue Fiat sat out front.

  He slid a palm over the hood and met with cool metal. She’d been home for awhile.

  He took all three small steps up to the front door in one leap before knocking with a bit more bravado. No answer. Nothing. Damien raised his fist to pound until she answered. She could be pissed later after she proved all was well. He took a few deep breaths to try and find calm, when he sensed something wrong. Scented the air, picking up one vaguely familiar aroma and tried to place the odor.