Hunt the Moon

by Kari Cole

  Luke laughed and she pressed another kiss on his neck. Damn, he smelled good.

  “Mmm,” she murmured, nuzzling his throat. She rubbed her cheek against his, before dropping slow, soft kisses all over his face. The different textures, his scent and taste, demanded she take her time. Explore. Savor him.

  He let out a low laugh that was half groan.

  “What?” she asked, moving back to his throat and breathing deep when she reached the little hollow. The skin there was silky and smooth.

  God, why did he smell so good?

  “I was thinking I should call you ‘kitten’ from now on.”

  Pushing his shirt aside, she rubbed her face over the top of his chest. “Huh?”

  He laughed again. “You’re scent-marking me like a cat.”

  “What?” she asked again, trying to pull together a coherent thought. But she was derailed by how handsome he was. A flush covered the apples of his cheeks and his eyes glittered. “Excuse me?”

  Grinning, he smoothed her hair, petted her. “I like it. You’re claiming me.” He stroked the curve of her ear with his thumb. “Little kitten.”

  “Oh? Well, this kitten has sharp teeth.” She nipped his jaw and Luke moaned beneath her. Nice. She repeated the motion, but this time on the spot just below his ear. His low groan sounded like a purr and she smiled against his throat. His scent had changed. As devastatingly attractive as it had been before, now it was richer, muskier, and she had to restrain herself from rolling all over him like her old neighbor’s cat with a bag of catnip. She giggled like an idiot and breathed him in again, shuddering.

  “Do you know what that is?”

  “Hmm? What?” Was that her? She sounded dreamy and kind of drunk.

  A slow smile blossomed on his face, and he touched the tip of her nose. “Remember what I said about paying attention to your sense of smell?” He pulled her head down into the crook of his neck. “This is the scent of lust.”

  The breath froze in her lungs and then burst from her in a rapid pant, dragging Luke’s enthralling scent in with it. She reared up, pulling him with her by his collar. Jesus, they still had their coats on. Nope. Not going to work. Those had to go.

  In a flurry of motion, Izzy yanked at his clothes, desperate to get rid of the barriers between them. When her shaking hands proved too clumsy to deal with the buttons on his shirt, she ripped it down the front, exposing his muscled chest and abdomen.

  A growl of desire bubbled from her lips as she ran her fingertips over him. She wanted to kiss and lick each ridge and plane, so she pushed him back down. The temptation of his skin was a delight to revel in and she did exactly as she desired, licking a path up the strong line of his throat, stopping to suck in places and leave openmouthed kisses in others.

  Luke pulled in a breath and swore, his strong hands gripping her hips.

  Nothing before in her experience had ever—could ever have—prepared her for the firestorm of desire racing through her veins. She couldn’t get close enough to him. Every single thing about Luke was as intoxicating as a drug. She was drunk on his scent, high on his kisses. And she never wanted to come down. She wanted to become a part of him and make him a part of her so they could never be separated.

  The sensation of fur stroking beneath her skin returned, decadent and delicious. Her head pounded with a need she couldn’t explain. Her teeth throbbed and her skin drew tight. For a moment, she worried she’d shift and hurt Luke, but her wolf rumbled. And Izzy knew the wolf would never do anything to hurt this man. He was safe with them. Protected. They’d do everything in their power to take care of him.

  Forever.

  Izzy shook from the power in that word, in Luke’s hands on her skin, in the vibration of his groans and growls as she touched and kissed him, in his fraying restraint.

  Dear God, she wanted him, like nothing she had ever wanted before.

  Underneath her shirt, he slid his burning hands along the bare skin on her sides and back. She shuddered, and when he moved those so-hot hands beneath the waistband of her jeans and palmed the globes of her ass, she lost all control.

  Her gums burned, and without thinking about it, needing to be closer, she bit him on the strong muscle of his shoulder where it met his neck. Blood flowed into her mouth and she swallowed, coating her tongue in his rich flavor.

  She moaned.

  Luke roared.

  * * *

  Isabelle’s fangs punctured his skin, and Luke froze.

  She had marked him.

  A torrent of instinct and need ripped through him, and Luke finally gave up the battle to go slow, breaking the restraints her past had wound around him. His brave, unpredictable Isabelle had surprised him again and taken what she wanted. And he couldn’t deny her, or his need for her, anymore.

  He rolled and flipped Isabelle onto her back. Before she could do more than gasp at the change in positions, he shredded her clothes with his claws. Little strips of fabric floated to the ground around them like a ticker-tape parade as he did the same thing to the rest of his own clothes.

  He was naked and between her thighs within a blink of an eye, his fangs burning in his mouth. He grabbed her hips and stopped.

  The effort to keep himself from plunging into her like the beast he was made every muscle in his body shake like a ten-point-oh on the Richter scale. He knew the wolf was in his eyes when he finally raised his head to look at her. Her pupils were huge, her mouth reddened from kissing him, her cheeks flushed, and she was panting. So was he. He needed her, wanted to mark her and claim her as his.

  Forever.

  She gripped his biceps, and when she licked her bottom lip like she enjoyed the taste of him, he growled. There was no fear in her eyes, only desire. Her tongue peeked out again from between those swollen, glossy lips, and he saw a spot of blood in the corner of her mouth. She lapped at the little crimson drop and hummed.

  A desire so immense hit him, it demolished everything Luke was or ever thought he could be. And when Isabelle wrapped her legs around his hips, he was done, remade into someone new. Someone better.

  A snarl ripped from his throat, and he stared into her eyes as he voiced the one truth that could never change: “Mine.”

  Then with a gasp, he plunged into her body and bit the soft, fragile skin of her shoulder in a mirror image of what she’d done to him.

  Marking and claiming his mate for eternity.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The sun was still trying to peek above the mountains when Luke woke in his bed, with Isabelle’s head resting on his shoulder. He had her wrapped up tight in his arms—exactly where she was supposed to be. Deep, even breaths drifted across his skin as she slept. Her naked body was tucked up next to him, one leg thrown over his.

  A smile stretched across his face. His prickly, hands-off mate was a cuddler.

  His mate.

  He almost couldn’t believe Isabelle was now truly his. Not after the way they met and how afraid she’d been of him. But the matemark on his shoulder was proof, and it pulsed with a warm glow that resonated down to his soul.

  His own mark on her left shoulder was somewhat hidden by her tangle of long, dark hair. He didn’t remember what had happened to her hair tie or who’d pulled it out. Like their clothes, it was probably a casualty of his desperation to claim her.

  Gently, he smoothed her hair back and examined the bite mark on the delicate spot where her lovely neck met her shoulder. It was already healing, the wounds closed and pink. By tomorrow, it should be completely scarred over, and almost invisible to the human eye. But not a lycanthrope’s. More important, her scent had changed. Any shifter coming within scent range of Isabelle would know she was mated.

  The thought made him so deliriously happy, his cheeks hurt from smiling. He wanted to stand on top of the highest peak in the Cabinets and scream it to the world: Isabelle
Meyers was his mate.

  The satin of her skin beckoned to him. Softly, he ran his hand over her shoulder, down her arm, then up her back, taking care not to touch the branding scar. As he ran his fingers through her hair and kissed the velvet of her forehead, she stirred, her thigh gliding over his leg.

  He hissed at the pleasure that innocent move caused, and Isabelle’s eyes opened. Shining amber greeted him. “Hello,” he said to her wolf. She blinked and his mate’s whiskey-brown irises focused on him. “Good morning,” he said, his voice suddenly raw.

  An enticing blush darkened her cheeks, and he wondered if he could coax that color to bloom all over her body. “I like waking up naked with you,” he said, pulling her closer with a hand on her hip. She gasped, and yup, the pink stained her chest, too. Sweet.

  He shifted to press Isabelle to her back and she sucked in another breath. Not one of arousal.

  “I bit you! Oh my God. Ohmigod, ohmigod, I bit you.” She shrank back in horror.

  “Isabelle—” He caught her hands as she flailed, her sweet scent smoky and rank with fear and revulsion.

  “No, oh no,” she moaned, tears running down her face. “I’m sorry. Oh God, no.”

  “Isabelle, stop!” He put the power of the wolf in his voice and pinned her with his body. “I’m fine. Look at me. You didn’t hurt me.”

  “I bit you.”

  Reason and dominance weren’t working, so he tried something else. “Yes, you did,” he said slowly, his eyes at half-mast. “And I liked it.”

  “Wh-what?”

  Her eyes followed the slow glide of his tongue as he licked his bottom lip. The taste of her still fresh in his mind. He’d never forget the moment he claimed her. When he traced his mark on her shoulder, she jerked, then shuddered. “I bit you, too, sugar. Don’t you remember? It was right before I...” He rocked his hips into her, and thank you, Jesus, she moaned.

  She shook her head and blinked hard, like she was trying to gather her wits and toss off the sensual haze their scents were throwing out. He couldn’t have that. Sliding a hand under her bottom, he canted her hips and pressed her against the hard edge of his arousal. “Feel that, sugar?” She nodded as if on autopilot. “Does that feel like you’ve hurt me?”

  Eyes huge in her flushed face, she shook her head no. Her heart pounded against his chest.

  “Damn right you didn’t hurt me. You claimed me. And it was hot as hell.” He ran his fingers over his bite on her shoulder again. The sound she made went straight to his head like hundred-proof whiskey, and his cock pulsed. Which in turn made Isabelle writhe, setting off a feedback loop of sensation and desire.

  His wolf was thrilled with the situation, but Luke wanted to make sure Isabelle was clear on what had gone down between them. He raised himself onto his hands and knees above her, eliciting groans of frustration from both of them.

  “These marks,” he said, tapping a finger to hers, then his. “These are matemarks. They seal our bonding and let the world know we belong to each other. Think of them as shifter wedding rings, but better, because these can’t get lost. We can’t get lost. Because our bond will always point us home.”

  * * *

  Home.

  Izzy stared at Luke. Talk about shock and awe. He’d rapidly overwhelmed her panic with a spectacular display of sensuality, tenderness, and understanding, destroying her will to fight. If the military ever found out about him, they’d have him working for CENTCOM directing operations in the Middle East before he could blink.

  “You smell like my mate now,” Luke said, drawing in a deep breath. His voice was a rumbling purr, and every cell in her body sat up and took notice. “Sniff me, sugar. Do I smell different to you? Last night you seemed to like the way I smelled. See if I smell like yours.”

  The feelings he provoked shook her to her core. She clutched at him, twining her legs with his, and held on. It still wasn’t enough, because she had never even dared to dream of the life he was offering her on a silver platter. But Luke had given her a glimpse inside a whole new, shining world—an oasis of acceptance and security, glittering green eyes and hot demands. And she planned to drink him down. No more living in the dark alone, dying of thirst.

  She inhaled and reeled, overwhelmed by his scent. He was right. He smelled different. His essence of pine and stone had grown sweeter, spicier. Cloves and maple syrup. Mmm.

  Mine.

  In her head, her wolf sang with joy as Izzy pushed Luke over onto his back.

  Last night, she’d been too far gone, seduced by the call of the mating dance, to truly explore Luke’s body. She’d seen him naked a couple times now, but she’d never allowed herself to really check him out.

  Classically handsome, with high cheekbones and a firm jaw, he had golden skin that was velvet soft under her mouth and hands. She had a special fondness for the long, strong column of his throat and the graceful curve of his broad shoulders.

  “You’re so beautiful,” she said, drawing a surprised laugh out of him.

  “I think that’s my line.”

  She didn’t respond. She was too busy examining the matemark on his shoulder; fascinated by it now that she knew what it was. As soon as her fingers made contact, he sucked in a breath between his teeth. Izzy froze. Had she hurt him? No. When he touched her mark, electric desire had rippled through her.

  “Do it again,” he demanded.

  Guess that answers that. She quirked a brow. “Like this?” Light as a feather, she outlined the two semicircular curves, and grinned when his head banged against the pillow and groaned. “Or did you mean like this?” Rising on her hands and knees above him, she used the tip of her tongue to trace the mark.

  With a shout, Luke jerked, then grabbed her hair. “Again.” His voice reverberated with the wolf’s growl, the two voices one.

  Izzy obliged, loving his wild and instant reactions, and the burgeoning power she had over him. Again and again, she kissed and licked the mark, her hands wandering aimlessly over his chest and arms. When she scraped her teeth over him, he roared and flipped her onto her back.

  “Hey! I wasn’t done yet.” There was still so much left to explore.

  “Later,” he growled. “My turn, little mate.”

  He didn’t give her a chance to argue, his mouth descending in a hot, delicious slide over her lips. His tongue teased until she opened for him and he plunged deep. She moaned and he caught the sound, lapping and taunting, driving her higher until she writhed beneath him.

  Moving to her jaw, he nibbled and rasped his tongue over her skin, nipping and sucking his way to her ear. “So good. You smell like cookies fresh from the oven, sugar. I want to taste you everywhere. See if you’re as sticky and sweet as you smell.”

  He clamped his jaws over the tendon between her neck and shoulder and she bucked. His smug chuckle raised goose bumps all over her body.

  Apparently claiming him had snapped the chains of Luke’s iron restraint and manners. Bye-bye, civilized man. Hello, feral beast. And she loved it.

  Digging her nails into his back, she arched under him as he nibbled his way over her chest to her breast. He cupped it in one strong hand, shaping and petting. He circled closer and closer to her nipple.

  “Luke!”

  Another laugh and he swirled his thumb over the taut peak, causing her to pant. When he finally closed his teeth over it and sucked, she screamed. Mindless with lust, her heart pounded in time to the pulse between her legs.

  She tangled her fingers in his unruly hair and tugged. He growled. Whether it was a threat or promise, she didn’t know or care. She just had to have more, because something huge and devastating was welling up inside her.

  Luke switched to her other breast, treating it to the same exquisite torture as the first, before shifting to slide down her torso. He placed openmouthed, sucking kisses over every inch until she was ready to scream i
n frustration. “Luke, please.”

  He lifted his head and green-gold eyes studied her face. “What is it, mate of mine? What do you need?” His fingers danced lazy circles over her stomach, around and around her navel. “Tell me.”

  She squirmed, trying to find some relief for the empty ache. “Please,” she said again.

  “Is this what you want?” His big, hot hand cupped her between her thighs, and lights exploded behind her eyes. He pushed the heel of his palm into her pelvic bone as one long finger played in her curls. She whimpered and bumped her hips up. “More?”

  Thankfully, she didn’t have to answer because she was pretty sure the power of speech was beyond her. Slowly, so slowly, he sank his finger inside and they both moaned at the penetration. Then his mouth was there, replacing his fingers, licking and tasting her. She screamed and bucked. Too much and not enough. But his wide shoulders kept her legs splayed, his strong hands digging into her hips, holding her just where he wanted her. His every touch, every kiss, screamed possession and she understood now what it meant to be claimed by this Alpha. Totally consumed by his passion and need.

  She was almost crazy with desire, when he nipped her inner thigh. “Need you now,” he gritted through his teeth. “Need inside. Now.”

  “Yes,” she hissed. God, yes. Hurry the hell up.

  Rising above her, Luke hooked one of her legs over the crook of his arm. He positioned himself at her entrance and looked into her eyes. “I love you, Isabelle,” he said, as he pushed inside.

  “Luke!” Grabbing his shoulders, she pulled him down for a kiss. He loved her? He loved her. Tears rolled down the sides of her face into her hair as they rocked together in a relentless rhythm. She wanted to give the words back to him, let him know how much she felt for him, too, but they jumbled all up on her tongue. So she cupped his face and stared into his eyes, trying to convey everything that was tangled up inside.

  He kissed her tears and buried his face in her neck as he moved harder and faster. She cradled his head to her and met each of his thrusts as best she could until his movements became wild and unstoppable.