Blame It on the Moon

by Shara Lanel

  But then she had a flashback moment, recalling Haden’s lips on hers while his arms had cradled her tight. “Mm. Come here.” She crooked her finger with a not-so-steady outstretched arm. “I want to kiss you again.”

  He approached eagerly, but Fergie took up his growling crusade with even more gusto. Kit leaned forward and patted his furry brow, then gasped. “I haven’t let him out yet. That must be his deal.”

  Haden frowned at the dog. “I can do it. Out back?”

  “Yes, the yard’s fenced, so you can just direct him outside.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Not that the dog wanted to go with the man. In the end, Kit had to drag herself off the couch and pull the dog’s collar to get him outside.

  Five minutes later she found Haden in the kitchen making coffee. “Getting eccentric in his old age,” she said, leaning against the counter to prevent another attack of wooziness. “Or maybe too much time alone is making him jealous when I’m here.”

  Haden scowled at the chili pepper mugs as he pulled them off the wood tree sitting on the counter.

  “Don’t like my mugs? They were a housewarming gift from my mom. She got them in Santa Fe.”

  He blinked, seeming to awaken from deep thought, and looked at her. “Huh? No, nothing’s wrong with your mugs. Think the day is finally getting to me. It’s been a long one.”

  Kit opened her mouth, almost blurting out what a relief it was not to read his thoughts, how the psychic connection seemed to be blurred by alcohol, but she caught herself in time. Note to self: quickest way to run off a man ‑‑ tell him you can read his mind. He’d either think she was a freak or be freaked out that she knew what was going on inside his head. Either way, not good.

  Funny, she hadn’t felt compelled to tell anyone her secret since she’d left the hospital. Must be the alcohol.

  Fergie’s howling made her jump, so she rushed to let him in. Then the annoying hound went right back to crouching and growling at Haden.

  The accused man handed her a steaming cup of coffee. “I think I’d better go.”

  Eek! She couldn’t let the evening end like this, with her mangy dog running off the sexiest man she’d kissed in decades…or ever. “Oh, just ignore him. He’s never attacked anyone in his life.”

  Sounding distant, Haden said, “But it’s late, and you need some sleep.” He headed toward the door before she could stop him. “I’ll be here by nine tomorrow. Is that early enough?”

  “Huh? Why are you coming here?” For sex? Please say you’re coming by for sex. Better yet, stay. We can screw while the dog’s barking, not a problem, really. Gee, was she desperate or what?

  “To drive you to work, remember? Your car…”

  “Oh, yeah. Okay, nine’s good. You sure this won’t mess you up? I can call a cab.”

  “No problem at all. See you then.” And he disappeared! Just like that, out the door, leaving Kit disconcerted and ready to have the SPCA pick up a now homeless dog.

  The evening had gone so well, but she’d stupidly drunk too much and now he thought she was an idiot. She sighed and sat on the kitchen floor, placing the untouched mug of coffee next to her and pulling Fergie in for a hug.

  “What’s the matter with you, dog? Don’t tell me Haden’s a jerk, because I really like him. You’re just going to have to get over yourself.”

  The dog panted, as she scratched his neck and under his ears, but he didn’t illuminate what he sensed about Haden that she didn’t. Usually she was the one who knew everything about a person, but not this time.

  * * * * *

  The dog knew, of course. They could always smell the beast in him. Usually they cowered and slunk away with whimpers, but Fergie had felt it necessary to protect his mistress. A very good dog indeed, but it only served to remind Haden that he couldn’t let this thing with Kit go any further, no matter what his libido insinuated. He could pick up an anonymous woman in a bar and have a one-night stand if he wanted to satisfy his lust, but messing with the owner of the store he planned to take over was just asking for trouble. And he couldn’t afford to get too close to any of the people he saw day in and out, because the closer he got to them, the easier it would be for them to key in on his secrets. If he kept his distance, hopefully they’d be too wrapped up in their own lives to question his occasional eccentricities.

  But damn, hours after leaving Kit’s house, he still lay awake with a semierect cock, longing for release. She was funny and sexy…and normal. With her, he could almost believe that a normal life might be possible for him. Almost. But Fergus had reminded him that he’d never lead a normal life. The best he could hope for was maintaining the status quo.

  When the alarm went off at seven, he smacked it, then again at seven-fifteen and seven-thirty. For once, thinking about opening his pub could not chase away his melancholy. Status quo. Was that all he had to live for? Shit. Maybe he should head to Canada and hole up in the Arctic. Maybe then the were side of him could live a full life.

  He didn’t make it into the shower until eight forty-five, and that was when he finally remembered that he was supposed to pick Kit up for work.

  “Oh, I’m in deep shit.” He toweled dry and shaved quickly, hoping that Kit had a bit of a hangover and was running as late as he was.

  No such luck. She was tapping her foot at the front door, purse hanging from her shoulder and keys in the door lock when he arrived.

  “I’m sorry. Overslept.”

  “Gee, and nothing even happened last night to give you a good excuse.”

  Haden sniffed the morning air and learned the truth. Kit might be standing outside looking like she was raring to go, but she was really dealing with a queasy stomach. Hungover. “Well, actually I expected you to be out of it this morning, so I wanted to give you a few extra minutes.”

  “I told you I needed to get to the store. I’m the only one with the keys.”

  “Don’t worry. Plenty of time.”

  She nearly growled at him. “Easy for you to say. I open at ten.”

  “Plenty of time,” he assured her again. He grinned as he opened the passenger-side door, ever gallant, but it was an evil grin. As he slid into his seat, he turned the key and tapped the gas pedal.

  And they were off.

  “Good God, slow down!”

  He knew that would get her. He whipped down the residential road doing fifty, something he wouldn’t have dared if he had normal human hearing and sight, but with his were senses he could spot any pedestrian or car with plenty of time to maneuver around them. He glanced at Kit. “Hmm, you seem to be turning a bit green.”

  “I take it back…I take it back, goddamn it. I don’t care when we get there, just get me there alive.”

  “Oh, you will be.”

  “And not crippled!”

  He actually did slow down once he hit Parham Road, not because of Kit’s pleas, but because he couldn’t afford to be spotted by a cop. Just thinking about the tenuous thread his new life hung on made him want to growl. He wished he could blame Leslie, but the only person he could blame was her unknown killer, a killer he was determined to find…someday.

  * * * * *

  Angelica Meyerton loved the first moment after Richard blindfolded her. Let the fun begin. From the second she lost her sight, all of her other senses became heightened. Her ordinary life dropped away, and she focused on the sensual experience of being touched and controlled. Of losing control.

  Richard’s body heated her back, her thighs, her ass, as he gave a last tug on the black cloth. A shiver of excitement traveled through her, and his whisper tickled her ear. “Bend over. The bed’s right in front of you.”

  She obeyed, falling into space, landing softly on her stomach, the mattress giving beneath her weight. Silk sheets cradled her cheek. Cream already soaked her panties.

  Richard was younger than she was and so strong, sculpted, from hours at a gym. He’d told her he was a grad student at the University of Richmond. Law, he’d said, like his da
ddy.

  Angelica smelled his cologne as he leaned over her to ease her panties over her hips and down her thighs. She wriggled with excitement, anticipating the first slap. Would he use his palm? A paddle? A whip? She listened for his breath to tell her where he was. He undid her bra next and slipped that out from under her, careful not to touch any other part of her body. The longer he made her wait, the more her ass heated. She was sure it was rosy by now, and she hadn’t been “punished” yet.

  Their games had grown cautiously. He’d tested the waters on their first night together, asking if she’d mind wearing a fuzzy pair of handcuffs, the kind found in a novelty store. She’d agreed. They’d fucked with her wrists restrained by the cuffs and the brass headboard. His cock had been so huge, ramming inside her. She’d screamed and writhed. The next morning she’d had bruises on her wrists, but instead of being embarrassed, she’d gotten a secret thrill every time she’d looked at them.

  But handcuffs hadn’t been enough.

  Since that first night with Richard, she had developed a taste for the kinkier side of sex.

  And now she could never say no. Why couldn’t she say no? Sometimes imagining how far she could go with Richard scared her, so she usually tried not to think about it. Unless she wanted to get off. Then she’d relive all of the horrible, wonderful things he made her do.

  Angelica wriggled her butt, conscious of the bed under her and the man behind her. “Touch me, honey.”

  “Silence. Patience.”

  “But I’m so hot for you.” And thinking about all the things he could and probably would do to her made her even hotter.

  “Are you asking for a more severe punishment?” Richard asked in the stern voice she loved so much.

  “If you think I need it, Master.”

  He inhaled quickly, the only sign that this excited him. “I do.”

  She listened as he walked around the bed. He pulled her arms out and wrapped rope around her wrists, one loop, two, tighten. Then he pulled until her arms were as stretched above her head as they could go. She heard him change positions and tried to move her arms. He’d tied them to the frame of the bed, she surmised. Silence. Where was he? His leg grazed her thigh, so he was behind her again.

  Richard always stayed fully clothed until he was ready to enter her. He said that made it more erotic for him, and at first she’d hated it, because she couldn’t get her hands on him fast enough. Now she anticipated each brush of fabric, a reminder that she was the vulnerable one.

  Drawing his hands down her hips to her inner thighs, Richard eased her legs wider. With her arms held fast by the other side of the bed, her position started to feel very awkward. Wider and wider. He lifted one ankle up, looped a rope around it and tied it, then moved to the other side. She felt like an inverted T with her legs even with the edge of the bed. Her nether lips were open to the air, her pussy pulsing.

  She was still aroused, but sometimes it crossed her mind that he got too elaborate. She wanted to please him, and when he tied her like this, she couldn’t even touch him, so what did he get out of it?

  Patience, he always told her. He wanted her this way. It did please him very much.

  And when he did tie her up, he often shoved his cock in her mouth, deep and fast, then they both got off. He’d make sure she swallowed his cum, and then he’d have her lick him clean. That was fine, as long as he didn’t forget about her and leave her tied. She didn’t like that as much, but she’d learned not to complain, or he’d ask her if she wanted to leave him and find a tamer man. The thought of losing him washed her discontent away. She’d happily stay restrained for days, if that’s what it took to keep him.

  In fact, the thought of him leaving her filled her with a panicky desperation.

  At long last, Angelica discovered Richard’s plan for tonight as a sex toy roared to life. It was loud, and she felt the vibrations before it even touched her skin. Richard shoved the thick fake cock into her very exposed hole. He didn’t check to see if she was wet or if the cock was too big, just slammed it hard.

  “Ah!”

  It was wide, cold, and stiff, but it quickly warmed. Her juices slicked its sides, and her vagina eased around it.

  “Mmm. Nice.” She would’ve liked feeling it on her clit, too, but she didn’t dare ask.

  “I have one more treat for you,” Richard murmured, as if he were talking to himself. She heard a squirt that had to come from a lube tube. Then something touched her ass. It was cold, hard, and vibrating too.

  “What are you doing? You know I don’t like ‑‑”

  He slid his hand over her mouth. “You’re going to like this.” He took the vibrator away from her ass, thank God. “Open your mouth.”

  She did, and he slipped a ball inside, an uncomfortably large ball that tasted like rubber. The ball had some kind of restraint attached, because she felt it around her head. Now she couldn’t talk, couldn’t move, and a touch of fear skittered through her stomach. Suddenly she felt like she couldn’t breathe. She lifted her head awkwardly, trying to see where Richard was, wanting to meet his eyes, but he’d moved behind her again.

  She fought to calm herself. Could she say she wasn’t enjoying this complete loss of power? Despite the panic, her body ached from extreme arousal. If he’d spank her too, she’d be in heaven, but spanking wasn’t on the agenda. Instead, the cold vibrator once again touched her ass. The lube made it slide past her cheeks easily, and soon Richard was moving it around to penetrate her second hole. She moaned as her body heated even more, partially from arousal, but also from embarrassment. She always felt mortified at the thought of having something in her ass.

  And Richard was teaching her to never be ashamed of any part of her body. It was there to serve him. And everything he did was for their mutual pleasure.

  But she was so afraid it would hurt.

  “That’s your punishment,” he whispered as he pushed the vibrator in deeper. She realized it was no thicker than a finger. It made her feel uncomfortable and full, especially since there was just a thin membrane between it and the vibrator in her vagina, but it didn’t hurt. Once she relaxed, it even started to feel good.

  As she lay there helpless and exposed, Richard leaned in close to tell her about another assignment he had for her.

  * * * * *

  Haden greeted the tall, slim woman with a handshake and gestured for her to sit in the green chair in front of his desk. He then seated himself in a stout leather chair and glanced down at her resume while sniffing the air unobtrusively. She was the last person lined up to interview for the position of assistant manager, the person who would potentially be his right hand. More than that during the nights of the full moon. He would need to have implicit trust in his assistant manager, since he would be completely unavailable should disaster befall his pub. This person had to be confident, capable, and qualified, with a background in restaurant management. He’d received a glut of resumes when he’d posted his ad in the paper weeks ago, but he’d quickly narrowed it down to ten, and this was interview number ten.

  Damn, was he just being too picky?

  The woman didn’t nervously launch into speech while waiting for him, which he admired. Her two-page resume showed both loyalty ‑‑ she didn’t jump from job to job ‑‑ and flexibility. She’d managed a hotel restaurant, a hamburger joint, and a Ruth’s Chris. Nice. She’d included letters of recommendation, which he’d already followed up on. So far the perfect candidate.

  But her scent was…off.

  His wolf senses allowed him to read people through their physiology. He could hear a person’s heart race, smell the sweat of fear, and taste the almost metallic tang of anger. There were many signs for the different emotions, but he couldn’t quite pin this one down. He sensed that she was confident about the interview and her job qualifications, but there was something…something like desperation. Not overt, though, not like the man who’d tried to rob Kit last night. This was subtle. And there was something familiar about her
smell, too, but he couldn’t place it.

  Haden wanted to tell her to leave right then, but she was the last candidate. He needed to train someone immediately so they’d be secure in their post by the full moon.

  Maybe he was relying too much on his were senses and not enough on his human ones.

  “May I call you Angelica?” he asked, glancing up at the woman at last.

  “That’s fine.”

  “You went to school at the University of Maryland?”

  “Yes, I graduated cum laude.”

  “Excellent.” He launched into the prescribed interview questions and sensed her relaxing. She was used to this process. What did that say about her? Did it mean she’d been on far too many interviews recently?

  “Most importantly,” Haden went on, “there will be times when I’m out of town and out of touch. Blackie’s assistant manager must be able to handle the pub on his or her own, whatever problem may arise ‑‑ could you do that?”

  “Definitely.” She smiled. She was sexy, and for a moment he smelled a whiff of arousal, but it was rapidly quashed. Funny that she didn’t do it for him the way Kit did. That petite, spunky woman had him longing for a free week to spend in bed. This woman might be fun for a one-night stand, but nothing more.

  Then he pinpointed what it was about her that was bothering him. She reminded him of Leslie: blonde hair, though Angelica’s had a silky sheen; high cheekbones heavily rouged; worldly blue eyes.

  He breathed an inner sigh of relief. That was it. His were senses were playing tricks on him. He could ignore her similarities to Leslie as long as she showed up for work on time and stayed late if needed.

  He leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. “Angelica, normally I’d request a second interview, but I’ve already checked your references, and I’m convinced you’re the right person for the job. So if you’re interested, you’ve got it.”

  Her luminous smile transformed her face from jaded to carefree. “Thank you so much! I’ll take the job. Thanks!”

  Haden paused, taken aback by her sudden eagerness, like she’d been holding herself in check. He sniffed the air again and again smelled that something off. Maybe it was him. At this point, he was the desperate one, desperate to get this show on the road. And it wasn’t like there was a contract involved. If in the end she didn’t work out, he could always fire her.