Howling Passion (Passion Moon 1): (A Shifter, Supernatural Romance)

by Renee Jordan

  I squirmed on the bus seat, bouncing with excitement as my cheek pressed against the window, watching the rolling hills of Montana pass by. “When are we getting there, Momma?”

  “Just be patient,” she laughed, her arm around me. “We'll see your daddy soon enough.”

  I let out a happy laugh. Momma and I would be so much happier with Daddy than Wayne. Daddy wouldn't ever hurt Momma. He was a passionate man. He loved Momma so fierce the night they made me.

  I hugged my momma tight as she lay on the hospital bed, festooned with tubes. “Just like your daddy,” she whispered, staring into my eyes.

  “Don't leave me, Momma,” I cried as the ovarian cancer devoured her beauty from the inside.

  “One day, you'll meet your daddy. And he'll love you and take care of you.” Momma smiled. “He's a traveler. He'll wander into your life and love you just as much as I do.”

  I chortled, skipping through the grass as Momma followed. Summer on the sere Texas panhandle was a beautiful sight. I never wanted to stop romping and playing with Momma.

  My eyes opened, the jumbled dreams fading. An ache bruised my heart. Momma had been dead sixteen years. But sometimes it felt like yesterday, and I was still a little girl. My eyes flicked around the room. Nothing was familiar.

  Fear spiked inside me and I bolted upright.

  Where was I?

  Fire crackled nearby, painting the room in dancing orange and yellow. A white afghan slipped off my body. I lay on a leather couch, the cushion creaking as I shifted to get comfortable. The walls were dark-paneled wood, and a pair of buck heads—a six point and a nine point—mounted on plaques on either side of the fire place.

  Wayne loved to hunt, but he never bagged a stag with nine points.

  A bear-skin rug covered the hardwood floor, it's black fur shaggy. I looked around, grateful to find myself fully clothed, and bewildered where I was. My duffel bag lay nearby. I stood up, my bare feet tickled by the bear's fur, and grabbed my duffel bag. My heart hammered as I picked it up.

  “Going somewhere?” a low voice asked.

  I let out a great scream.

  Forrest stood in the doorway, dressed in a pair of jeans and tight, faded T-shirt for some rock band I had never heard of. A white bandage peaked out of his sleeve on his left arm. His hazel eyes stared at me, a grin curling his across his stubbled cheeks.

  Like a wolf's grin.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  I put my hands on my hips. “Where am I?”

  “My house. Is soup alright?”

  “Why am I here?”

  “Do you remember what happened this afternoon?”

  I blinked, a hazy memory of Christian accosting me and some strange hallucinations brought on by lack of sleep. How did I get away from Christian?

  “You...saved me?” I blinked. The very last thing I remembered was the Sheriff arriving and a...wolf snarling? Was that right? That must have been part of the sleep-deprived hallucination.

  His face grew stony. “Bastard got away though. He put up more of a fight than I thought.”

  “Is that how...?” I pointed to his arm.

  Forrest nodded.

  “Sorry.”

  “Why? You didn't ask for that asshole to attack you.” He strode into the living room. “Are you okay? You passed out while I was...trying to arrest him.”

  I laughed. “Lord, I was out of it before that. I was hallucinating. I thought he tried to...cast a spell on me.” I laughed again. “Oh, Lord, but that's the most ridiculous thing I have ever said.”

  Forrest only nodded.

  “So after I passed out, you took me to your home?” I arched an eyebrow.

  “You needed a place to rest,” Forrest shrugged. “And, well, I was afraid Christian might try something again.”

  “So you wanted to keep a close eye on me?”

  His hazel eyes caught the light strange for a moment, flashing gold. “I wanted to make sure you stayed safe, Kotie.”

  A flush of heat went through me. I swallowed, touched by his concern. His passion. “Thank you,” I whispered, reaching out to touch his strong arm, sliding up to brush the edge of his bandage. It was sexy. He fought to protect me.

  “I'd gladly do it again,” Forrest said, brushing back a strand of my fiery hair from my cheek and tucking it behind my ear.

  My eyes widened. Oh, Lord, I must be a positive mess right now.

  I stepped back, sitting on the couch. My stomach let out a loud peal of hunger, growling fiercer than the wolf I had heard in my hallucination.

  Forrest chuckled. “Let me go make you that soup.”

  I nodded, admiring his ass in those tight jeans as he walked away.

  “Careful, girl,” I whispered to myself. “You just met him. Burt seemed like a great guy.”

  Burt never risked his life to save me. Burt never even offered to make me soup.

  And Burt wasn't half as sexy as Forrest. The fact he was a cop was just the icing on the cake. I grabbed the fallen afghan, pulling it over myself, cuddling on the couch and watching the fire crackle and pop as it devoured the logs.

  I was safe here. Burt would never find me, and Christian would never dare to try anything with Forrest around. I smiled, the warmth growing between my thighs. What did Forrest look like with that shirt off? How defined were those muscles? I wanted to give them a squeeze. I bet they would be as hard as steel.

  I bit my lip.

  Forrest would spread me out on the bear-skin rug, his strong hands roaming my body. He would tease me, give me such naughty delights, his lips kissing and sucking. I would moan and pant for him. And then he would take me. Hard, primal, passionate. Our cries would join the crackle of the fire.

  “Here's the soup.”

  I jumped, my cheeks flaming as my fantasy drifted away. I so wanted to scratch the itch between my thighs.

  Forrest walked closer, breathing in deeply, and a smile crossed his lips, so knowing, like he read my naughty thoughts. My cheeks burned red. He handed me a salmon-pink plate with a steaming bowl of chicken noodle soup, sprinkled with crushed saltine crackers, resting on it.

  “Thanks,” I said, my mouth salivating.

  “It's only Campbell's,” he laughed. “The microwave did all the work.”

  My stomach growled again, and I took a huge spoonful, gathering a chunk of chicken and piece of carrot. The broth was savory, and I let out a sigh as it pooled in my stomach. I took another bite, and a third, spooning it in like a beast before I remembered Forrest was sitting there watching me.

  “So, um...” My mind searched for something to say. “Um, well, how did you find me? You came in the nick of time.”

  “I heard your call,” he answered.

  I blinked, frowning. I remembered screaming for him in my panic. “But you couldn't have. You drove up in your SUV. If you were close enough to hear my yell, you would have stopped Christian sooner. Unless you have superman hearing.”

  Forrest laughed. “Miss Maggie gave me a ring. She wanted to make sure you reached the bed and breakfast.”

  What a sweet, ol' dear. “I need to thank her.”

  “That's Miss Maggie. She's a mother to every stray that wanders through Moonrise.”

  “Where you a stray once?”

  “I think everyone that reaches a place like Moonrise is a stray.” His eyes were questioning.

  I took a bite of soup.

  “Anyways, I can drive you to the bed and breakfast, Augustus has your room ready.”

  I froze, the spoon halfway to my mouth. A spike of fear filled me.

  “Or you can sleep here. You can have my room. I changed the sheets in my bed. And I'll sleep down here on the couch.”

  The flush of heat returned. I would be so safe in his strong arms. I wouldn't have to be afraid of Christian showing up and causing problems.

  “Thank you kindly,” I whispered. “I'll take the bed.”

  “Good. I think that's better. I want to make sure your safe until Christian's ar
rested. My boys are out looking for him.”

  “Boys?”

  “And one girl,” he laughed. “My deputies. There are advantages to being the Sheriff.”

  I took the last spoonful of soup, setting the plate on my lap. A yawn split my lips.

  “Ready for bed?”

  “I think so,” I smiled. “It's been a long day.”

  He took the plate from me, setting it on an end table. Then Forrest held out his strong hand to me. I grasped it. His grip was electric. He pulled me up with ease. I so wanted to throw myself on the bear-skin and beg him to ravish me.

  You just met him. Go slow. You rushed with Burt.

  Forrest hefted my duffel bag and I followed him. The rest of his house was as rustic as his living room, though he had a family room decked out with one of the largest flatscreen TV's I had seen and a comfy, well-used recliner. Pictures hung on the wall of the staircase. An older couple with a young Forrest out in the woods, camping or hiking.

  “Your grandparents?” I asked.

  “Foster parents,” he answered, his voice thick and raw.

  At the landing on the second floor, he went right. “Here's the bathroom,” Forrest said, rapping his knuckle on a door. He reached the end of the hall and pushed open his bedroom door. “I turned the spare bedrooms into my gun room.”

  “Gun room?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “I make my own ammo. It's cheaper than buying individual rounds. And I like to tinker with my guns.”

  “You're an amateur gunsmith?”

  “It's a hobby,” he laughed. “Montana brings out an independent streak. I hope gun's don't make you uncomfortable?”

  “I grew up in Texas.” I peered into his room. His bed was neatly maid, covered in a dark comforter. The room was simply furnished with a simple dresser, a fern in a pot by the window, and a nightstand with an alarm clock and a lamp. “Thank you,” I smiled at him. “You've been more than kind.”

  He dropped my duffel bag inside the room. He stared down at me, his eyes catching the light and flashing gold and hungry. His calloused hand cupped my cheek. My heart beat faster as he leaned in and kissed me.

  I froze for a moment.

  Then my heart beat with an excited, frantic beat. My eyes closed, and I moaned into the kiss. His strength pushed me against the doorjamb, his lips claiming mine. I put my hands on his side, squeezing his ropy muscles as my lips worked against his.

  My nose filled with masculine musk, that delightful mix of sweat and leather. This man worked. He was strong and protective. His kiss was hungry, needful. He burned to have me. And I would let this man take me. My body was on fire. I was his. No questions asked.

  Forrest broke the kiss, licking his lips and savoring my taste while a proud grin grew. “I wanted to do that all day.” His thick finger stroked my cheek. I shivered. “Sleep well. I'll be downstairs if you need anything.”

  “Okay,” I panted, my mind whirring.

  I leaned against the door frame, my panties a sudden mess, as he swaggered down the hallway. He moved with the grace of a prowling hunter. He flashed me one last look before trooping down the stairs.

  “Lord, what was that?” I panted, sliding into his bedroom and closing the door behind me. That kiss had been magnetic. I could still taste him on my lips. His scent clung to me, marking me.

  I was exhausted. I had barely slept. But I couldn't sleep. I was dirty. Two days on a Greyhound bus was not a pleasant experience. I opened up my duffel bag and found a loose night shirt and a fresh pair of plain, white panties. Then I grabbed my shampoo and conditioner, my makeup bag, my bodywash, and all the other little necessities I had packed before fleeing.

  I cracked open the door and peered into hallway. Forrest was gone. I slipped out, my bare feet padding on the hardwood floors. I found the bathroom and slipped in. It was clean, if plain, bathroom. Cold, tiled floor in stark white. A white shower-bath combo with a vaguely beige curtain. I threw it open. A bar of ivory soap sat on a dish next to a single bottle of shampoo.

  “Glad I packed my loofah,” I muttered, shaking my head in disgust. I found a clean, beige towel—he had no wash clothes, I would have to fix that—and turned on the shower.

  The pipes rattled and gurgled. I frowned, wondering if it was about to explode. The gurgling grew louder, and then the water hissed out. In minutes, steam billowed through the bathroom. I stepped into the shower and savored the warmth.

  It was almost as good as sex.

  I'm not sure how long I stood beneath the spray. I closed my eyes and let the water flow over me, washing away the sticky feel from my skin. I shook my head. I didn't have all night. The water wouldn't stay hot forever.

  The water washed me clean. It was wondrous.

  I grabbed my spongy, pink loofah and my lavender-scented body wash. I scrubbed every inch of my body. I had never gone two days without showering. It was such a miserable experience. By the end, I felt so sticky.

  Now all that dirt swirled down the drain.

  I lathered up my hair, washing it three times just to make sure I was all fresh and clean.

  I stepped out of the shower feeling like a reborn woman. I dried myself with the boring, beige towel. My hair was still damp, but there was no helping that. I was too tired to let it dry. I'd have to deal with it in the morning. I slipped on my clothes and padded back to my bedroom. I shoved my dirty clothes into my duffel bag and crawled into his bed, burying beneath the covers.

  The bed smelled of his musk. I buried my face into the pillows. I squirmed, that liquid itch burning between my thighs. I hugged the pillow tighter, straining to push down my desire. But I couldn't. His kiss lingered, his scent filled my nose.

  Forrest was downstairs. He could douse the fires burning in my nethers.

  But Burt made me feel the same way.

  “Forrest isn't Burt,” I hissed at my caution. Burt was never so caring. Burt wouldn't have just stolen a kiss. He would have taken everything. Forrest was a gentleman.

  Well, a gentleman didn't kiss like that.

  My hand slid down my body. I rubbed at my panties, closing my eyes and imagining it was Forrest's touch. I sighed, biting my lip. I massaged my budding clitoris, my clean panties growing wet as my passion flooded out.

  I wanted Forrest's hand on me. Mine was too soft, too dainty.

  I needed a man.

  I kicked off the covers and rolled out of bed. My body trembled with excited fear. My bare feet padded on the hardwood floor. I would do this. I would seduce this hunky man. Forrest would hold me in those strong arms and keep me safe.

  Chapter Four: Firelight

  My feet slapped as I came down the stairs, my hips swaying. My nipples were hard, dimpling the front of my nightshirt. I couldn't remember the last time a man had excited me this much. Maybe the first night I had seen Burt play, and he had made love to me with his eyes, I had been this excited.

  But that was so long ago, the memory soured by the monster Burt had become.

  Tonight would be far more glorious.

  “Kotie,” Forrest smiled as he rose from the couch before the fire, setting a paperback book to the side. “What do you need?”

  “You,” I purred, striding forward.

  That cocky, self-possessed, feral grin spread on his face. His excitement swelled, bulging the front of his jeans. I licked my lips. He was big. A shudder washed through me as I padded closer, my bare feet swishing across the bear-skin rug.

  His arms enfolded me. His lips mashed against mine. He kissed me, devouring my lips, his strong arms wrapping about me. I let him hold me, my body pressed against his hard muscles. I moaned into his kiss, my arms hugging his neck, clinging to him.

  I felt so amazingly safe, so wonderfully desired in his arms.

  Forrest's hands slid down my back, each seizing a cheek of my bubbly butt. He squeezed me, pulling me against his bulge. My hips writhed, rubbing against his passion. He throbbed hard and my pussy clenched. I couldn't wait to feel him in me.
r />   “Kotie,” he groaned, his lips sucking at my neck, kissing up to my ear. His teeth nipped me. He growled, hungry as he feasted.

  “Oh, Sheriff,” I groaned, my hands roaming Forrest's hard body. I dipped beneath his shirt, sliding up his back. My clitoris brushed against his bulge, pleasure rippling through me. “Ravish me,” I groaned, my fingernails biting into his back. “I've never...oh, yes...you're driving me...oh, Sheriff!”

  His teeth nipped my ears. “You smell delicious,” he groaned.

  “I haven't showered in two days,” I groaned.

  “Your musk...” He growled, low and throaty. “I'm going to eat you up.”

  “Devour me,” I panted as he pulled me down to the bear-skin rug.

  His hands grabbed the hem of my nightshirt. I held my arms up, letting Forrest pull it over my body, mussing my red hair even worse. I didn't care. We would writhe in passion.

  Forrest's hands seized my breasts. I gasped as he kneaded my round flesh, his rough thumbs brushing my hard nipples. I sank onto my back, the bear-skin rug tickling my sensitive skin. His mouth descended, nipping my hard nipple before engulfing between his lips.

  “Oh, yes!” I groaned as his tongue swirled about my nub before sucking hard. He was hungry, engulfing as much of my breast as he could, stirring pleasure down to my fiery pussy.

  Forrest released my nipple, kissing and licking his way to my other breast. His tongue trailed up my breast, reaching my nub. He circled, then nipped it. The shock of pain mixed with the pleasure. I loved it.

  My fingers scratched at his T-shirt. I needed to see his muscular form. I pulled at his shoulders, his shirt bunching around his neck. With a growl, he rose, ripping his shirt off and throwing it near the crackling fire.

  Forrest was muscled like a Renaissance statue. My eyes widened in awe. Sweat gleamed on his perfectly sculpted pecs, and his abs rippled with a six pack. Tattooed across his body was barbwire, the barbs digging into his flesh. He looked chained in the black wire, his muscular physique restrained somehow by ink. His arms were as thick as my legs, the left wrapped in a thick, white bandage.