Blood Moon Rising Box Set (Books 1-6)

by Lola Taylor

  Shit.

  This day was quickly declining into the land of epic failures.

  “Mom?” Verika’s voice called from the hall. He could hear her coming up the stairs, and he froze as she walked into the bedroom. Her eyes were puffy and her hair was in more disarray than it had been after the Luminora. She looked like she’d been sleeping. “What’s going on…?” Her voice trailed off as she observed Elijah in all his naked glory.

  Feeling an unfamiliar blush rush to his face, he swiftly covered himself with the towel.

  He froze again, in what was arguably the most awkward moment of his life.

  The three of them stared at each other. Verika’s eyes lingered on the spot between his legs, her face slowly turning crimson. Then she blinked and words exploded out of her mouth.

  “Oh, my God! Please tell me my mother did not just see…”

  He grinned uncomfortably and ran a hand through his hair, nearly dropping the towel.

  Verika’s mother’s grin was even bigger.

  Verika covered her face, mortified. “O. M. G.” She shook her head, her hair swishing about her. “This is so not happening. It’s like something out of a nightmare.”

  “Oh, don’t be so dramatic dear,” Mrs. Tate said, patting her daughter on the back. “It’s not the first time I’ve seen a penis.”

  “Please, Mother, don’t ever say that word in my presence again!” The way she was squealing, you’d think she was a teenager instead of a twenty-something-year-old woman. Elijah was getting the impression she didn’t handle stress very well.

  “You should have told me you’d brought a guest over,” Mrs. Tate said, heading for the door. “Don’t forget, dinner’s in an hour. We have a lot of catching up to do.” She paused to kiss her daughter on the forehead. Verika peered at her mother through her splayed fingers, still covering her face with her hands. Mrs. Tate shot Elijah another appreciative look. “And do bring your friend down. I’m very interested in hearing how you two met.”

  With that, she shut the door, and Verika deflated. She let her breath out in a long groan and flopped onto the bed, burying her face in a pillow. “This sucks.”

  “Hey, it could be worse,” he said, sitting beside her. “At least you didn’t catch me in bed with her.”

  Verika lifted her face to glare at him. Her eyes shot to the slight bulge around his crotch. She blinked several times, though she didn’t take her eyes off him straight away. “Could you please put some clothes on?”

  He chuckled, loosening the towel a little bit to give her a better view. A satisfied thrill went through him at hearing her slight gasp as he bent over to retrieve his pants.

  And found them missing.

  Verika smacked her hand against her forehead. “Crap. I forgot I threw them in the washer. I’ll go get you some pants.” She rushed out the door and returned a moment later with a pair of blue jeans that were a little too big around the waist, a worn leather belt, and a button down plaid shirt. The clothes smelled like lavender.

  “Thank you,” he said, taking them from her. He gave her a foxy grin as he released the towel. It pooled at his feet. “Care to help me dress?”

  Verika’s jaw dropped, and her eyes once again shot straight down before she blinked and pried her gaze away. Two seconds later, she glanced back and jerked her head around. “What is the matter with you?” she said, as he swiftly dressed. “Are you some sort of exhibitionist?”

  He snorted. “Hardly. I’m actually pretty selective with whom I let see me naked.”

  “Right, and I’m sure the number of women you’ve bedded isn’t a mile long.”

  “No, that would be Nik.”

  Heavy silence ensued and he inwardly swore.

  He gritted his teeth and sighed, as Verika grew very quiet. “Jesus, I’m sorry. That was reckless.”

  “It’s fine,” she said. “It was a long time ago.” But he could tell it was anything but fine.

  She pressed her lips together as more silence followed. “I should go help with dinner,” she murmured and started for the door.

  He didn’t want her to leave. So instead, he caught her wrist and pulled her back to him.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, looking down into her eyes. “I never meant to hurt you.”

  “You’re not,” she breathed, sounding a little breathless as she pressed her hands against his chest. The feel of her hands rubbing up against his bared skin only served to stoke the fire growing within him. His cock was already hard, ready to show her just how much he wanted her.

  He blinked hard. Even going without sex for a month, his lust was never this bad. He thought back to the first of the month, how insatiably horny he’d been. How it had gotten worse as the month had dragged on.

  The full moon was less than a week away. He stared out the window, thinking. He should have recognized the signs. The mood swings, the rising lust, his desire for this witch, of all people…

  “Oh, shit,” he groaned.

  “What?” Verika’s head snapped up, her eyes darting everywhere. “What is it? Did the Order find us? Is it the DPI?”

  “Worse,” he said, his voice muffled around the palm of his hand. “My mating fever is here.”

  Verika barely understood a word he’d said. “What?”

  Seeing the bulky werewolf sprawled across the bed, acting like a blushing teenager, would almost be comical—if he hadn’t opened his mouth after removing his hand.

  “My mating fever is here.”

  She blinked. “Oh, is that all?”

  “Is that all?” he repeated, staring at her incredulously. “Do you realize what this means?”

  “Yes,” she said slowly, not comprehending his distress. “But you’re a werewolf.”

  “So?”

  “So, you knew this was going to happen, eventually.”

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, jaw fixed. His eyes turned glacial with a glare. “I gave up on finding a mate.”

  She blinked again. “Why?”

  He swallowed hard and looked down. His voice barely came out a whisper. “I didn’t think I deserved anybody, after what I did.”

  She watched him without moving, afraid to move in case it startled him. “What did you do? Was it that bad?” Her heart pounded in anticipation—and dread.

  His eyes slowly met hers. They were lifeless, dark holes without a soul. “Terrible things, Verika. Too many horrific things you can’t even begin to imagine.”

  A chill went down her spine. The urge to get the hell out of there struck her, and she abruptly stood. “I should go help with dinner,” she said, quickly walking to the door. “Don’t be late.”

  She shut it and leaned against the wood, her hand still gripping the doorknob.

  As an agent who’d sworn to uphold the law, she should have let him keep going. Maybe Elijah himself deserved to be arrested.

  But finding out he really was a criminal, and not just someone with rotten luck, would mean she’d been wrong about him.

  That the guy she was starting to fall for wasn’t really a prince at all. And so she’d run.

  Sometimes the fairy tale was far better than the truth.

  “Did you get enough carrots, Elijah?”

  Elijah hated carrots but didn’t protest as Mrs. Tate piled more onto his plate. “Growing boys need their vegetables,” she insisted.

  One thing became obvious from the moment he’d put the first forkful into his mouth—Mrs. Tate didn’t know shit about cooking. Everything tasted weird, either overcooked and mushy or burnt and bland. She used weird combinations of spices, adding sweet to salty and any other combination. His tongue was honestly worn out trying to figure out how everything was supposed to taste.

  “Thanks, Mrs. Tate,” he said, pasting on a smile and sticking his fork into the carrots.

  Mrs. Tate beamed while Mr. Tate, a skinny, tall man with a bald head and glasses, scowled. He’d been shooting daggers at Elijah all night.

  Elijah was used to overprotective fathers.
He hadn’t exactly been a model citizen growing up. He was the boy every father dreaded his daughter bringing home.

  The bad boy.

  Some of that had never left him. There were actually some days where he wondered if he’d ever grown up at all. All the things he’d done… He shuddered. To think he’d come so close to telling Verika about his past.

  What would she think of him? Would she view him the same way?

  He’d seen how frightened and disappointed she’d looked when she’d bolted from the guest room like a bat out of hell.

  He glanced at her. She sat quietly eating, staring at her plate while she shoved tasteless peas around with her fork. She hadn’t looked at him once all night, and that bothered him more than it should.

  He should be thankful he didn’t interest her. She was a witch, and a cop. But all he could think about during dinner was how to garner her interest once again.

  “So, Elijah,” Mrs. Tate said. Elijah tensed. He knew an attempt to strike up polite conversation and break the tense silence. “You said you’re from the south, too?”

  “Kentucky,” he said, smiling.

  “I’ve heard that’s such a pretty state! I’ve always wanted to go, but, well, we don’t get out much.”

  “It is a pretty state.”

  “Did you grow up in a city?”

  He tensed.

  Verika’s eyes finally shot to him, taking in his posture. “I’m not sure Elijah is up to discussing his past, Mom,” she said carefully.

  “Why not?” Mr. Tate said, instantly on high alert. “Did you get into some kind of trouble?”

  “Robert,” Mrs. Tate hissed, followed by a warning glare from Verika.

  “I’m just asking a simple question,” he said, studying Elijah. Oh, yeah. He thought he was a criminal, all right.

  “Yes, sir, actually I did,” Elijah replied politely. “I often got into a lot of fights while defending my youngest brother at school. It took him a while to grow into his skin.” Actually, Elijah wouldn’t know because he hadn’t actually seen Gage in a while. Guilt wrenched his heart, drying up his appetite.

  What a shitty brother he was.

  Mr. Tate’s glare only sharpened. He glanced at his daughter and back to Elijah. “Must have been one brawl after another, judging from the callouses on your knuckles. Ever hit any girls?”

  “Dad!” Verika hissed, with a pointed look in his direction.

  Verika’s reaction was sweet but unnecessary. At least Mr. Tate hadn’t brought out the shotgun.

  Yet.

  Elijah would never forget the feeling of being caught in bed with his prom date by her parents and high-tailing it back to his truck, buck naked, while the father shot at him. Talk about good times.

  “No, sir,” Elijah answered, the lie rolling smoothly off his tongue. He had hit a girl, once, but Mr. Tate wouldn’t understand why. He couldn’t explain that the girl was a hunter who’d been about to shoot him with silver bullets.

  Mr. Tate continued to stare at Elijah. “So, are you two dating?”

  And the interrogation continues…

  “No, Dad, we’re not,” Verika said pointedly. “I’ve already told you two this.”

  “You don’t look at each other like you’re just friends,” Mr. Tate huffed.

  Verika’s face turned red. Elijah could tell his was doing the same, judging from the growing heat in his cheeks.

  “In fact…” Mr. Tate narrowed his eyes. “You two have slept together, haven’t you?”

  “DAD!” Verika screeched. Elijah choked on a piece of steak and began coughing violently.

  Verika shot out of her seat. “No, we haven’t!” she said, flustered. “We just came to town on some business, that’s all.”

  Silence. Both of her parents looked at their plates, hurt settling into their expressions.

  Verika sighed and closed her eyes. “I didn’t mean it that way,” she said weakly.

  “Well,” Mr. Tate said, pushing his chair back and standing up to take his plate over to the sink, “it’s nice to know the only time you’ll visit is when it’s on official business.” He smiled sadly at her. “Glad you’ve found a profession you really love, sweetheart.” He walked out of the room, leaving thick silence in his wake.

  Verika stared after him, mouth dropping open and closing again a few times. Her mother stood and smiled, though it was weak. “You and Elijah must be tired. Why don’t you go on upstairs and I’ll clean up?”

  “Mom?”

  Mrs. Tate paused to look at her daughter. Tears had started welling in Verika’s eyes. One splashed down her cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—it came out wrong.”

  “Sssh,” Mrs. Tate said, pulling her daughter to her in a hug. She caressed her thick, red hair. “I know you didn’t, sweetie. It’s just… we’ve both missed you. Your absence has been really hard on your father. You should let things cool down a bit and then go talk to him.” She smiled and kissed her forehead.

  Elijah sensed Mrs. Tate was equally hurt but didn’t want to hurt her daughter any more. Didn’t want to push her away, just in case she decided never to come back.

  Verika hesitated as Mrs. Tate began clearing the table, like she wanted to help.

  “Come on,” Elijah said gently, taking her hand. “Let’s go.”

  Verika glanced toward the living room, where Mr. Tate had gone. A moment later, the TV clicked on and the volume turned up to ear-splitting levels. Elijah had detected potential hearing loss in the loud way Mr. Tate spoke.

  Elijah pulled Verika toward the stairs and more or less dragged her up to the second story.

  They shut the door to the guest room in time for Verika to release a deep breath. She ran her hands through her hair. “I can’t believe I said that.”

  “It was the truth,” Elijah said, watching her pace back and forth. “They just took it the wrong way.”

  She laughed bitterly. “It’s the truth, though. I do only visit when business is involved. A conference here, a case there. I’ve tried explaining to them why I can’t come by, but they don’t understand.”

  “They probably do,” Elijah said. “But they choose to risk their safety anyway, because they love you so much and want to see you.”

  Verika froze and looked at him with shiny eyes. Her hands dropped to her sides.

  God, she was lovely. Her lips were slightly open, as if inviting him to…

  He took a step closer, and another, before he knew what he was doing. Some internal instinct was pulling him to her, and he couldn’t stop, didn’t want to stop.

  Verika didn’t back away. She stared up at him, looking more vulnerable. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and hold her close, to shield her from the world.

  “You probably think I’m a horrible person,” Verika said, her voice raspy. “A horrible, selfish person.”

  “Actually,” he breathed, his heart starting to thunder in his chest, “I think you’re kind of wonderful.”

  Then, he kissed her.

  Verika was struck speechless—literally.

  Every muscle in her body locked up as Elijah cupped her face, his fingers sinking into her hair, and pulled her mouth to his. The feel of his lips was like satin as he gently kissed her.

  It was a question. One she answered with a primal cry of “Oh, hell, yes” from deep within. She didn’t think. More out of instinct—and a heaping of desire—she closed her eyes and kissed him back.

  Elijah groaned and deepened the kiss, guiding her over to the bed. Her back hit the mattress with surprising care as he reached beneath her to place his hand against her lower back to hold her weight. His fingers dove lower, slipping beneath the band of her pants to explore her smooth skin. She sighed with pleasure at the sensations his calloused hands sent skittering across her skin. She hadn’t realized how badly she’d needed to be touched like this again, to be desired.

  He broke the kiss and they both gulped down a breath. Her lips tingled, and she could already tell they’d be swollen.
But to hell with her appearance. She needed to be kissed like that again. It was like fire and lust and sugar and sunshine and every other damned good thing she could think of, all collected in the sinful softness of his lips. She could grow addicted to that, to him.

  He stared into her eyes for a second; his pupils were dilated with lust. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest as she panted, their breaths mingling. She leaned forward, aiming to kiss him, but he pulled back with a devilish grin. She was about to growl in frustration when he lowered his head and began doing things to her neck; sucking, kissing, nipping. Every touch brought her closer to the edge. Before long, all semblance of common sense, and the inkling this was a terrible idea, went straight out the window.

  By God, it was the best bad idea she’d ever been seduced by.

  He still had one hand tangled in her hair, gripping and pulling at it slightly. It sent the warm glow that had burned beneath her belly to a full-out raging wildfire. Heat flushed her skin as his fingers came around the curve of her hip to the patch of strawberry curls crowning her most sensitive area. A moan escaped her as his hand slid lower, excruciatingly slow. He moved his palm back and forth over her curls, and she began bucking her hips slightly in rhythm to the movement.

  She grabbed his hand and tried guiding it lower, but he held firm. She whimpered. “Please, Elijah,” she breathed.

  He paused his sinful claiming of the fleshy territory of her neck to say in a husky voice, “Please what, Verika? What do you want me to do?”

  “I want… I want you to touch me.”

  “Where?” His hand slid lower, the pad of his thumb caressing the throbbing bundle of nerves. It sent a jolt through her, making her gasp. “Here?”

  “Yes,” she breathed, raising her hips to meet his hand.

  With sensual strokes, he moved his thumb back and forth along her sex. God, it felt so good. Every drop of tension drained out of her body. She was quickly becoming a pile of clay, more than willing to be sculpted and prodded by Elijah’s very capable hands.