Luna Proxy Box Set (Werewolf Shifter Romance) E-Book

Mac Flynn

• Herausgeber: Crescent Moon Studios, Inc.
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

The entire Luna Proxy series in one complete package!

The dull, boring life of Leila Ulric stretches into the horizon. Little does she know that a new moon rises in the dark skies and brings with it a world of terrible and fantastic creatures known as werewolves. An insatiable curiosity drives her to learn more about these monsters, and so she travels on a journey that will redefine who she is and what she knows.

Leseprobe

Luna Proxy BoxSet

Werewolf Shifter Romance

Mac Flynn

Copyright © 2017 by Mac Flynn

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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Contents

Luna Proxy #1

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Luna Proxy #2

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Luna Proxy #3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Luna Proxy #4

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Luna Proxy #5

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Luna Proxy #6

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Continue the adventure

Other series by Mac Flynn

1

I'd always heard a guy could change your life, but for me a guy changed my whole outlook on life. He also changed me, but that's getting a little ahead of my story.

My story starts that day when I moved up in the world. Literally. The announcement came with a knock on my apartmentdoor.

My living quarters were, to be kind, small. There was a combination living room-dining room, and the kitchen was hardly more than the fridge and stove with two cupboards. My bedroom barely fit the bed, and the closet was the width of a skinny hamper and twice as tall. All other necessities, like a washer and dryer, and even a bathroom, were located down the hall in the communalarea.

Outside the few, grimy windows was the world in which I lived. Dingy apartment buildings stretched into the distance and were finally finished when the residential sectors collided with the commercial district. Those hulking, lifeless office buildings penetrated the sky with their artificial eyes hewn from countless particles of melted sand. The inhabitants of those buildings scurried to and fro along the gray sidewalks on their way to a boring existence.

Beyond those towering behemoths, guardians of boredom, was the river. The serpentine water flowed through the city like the old Biblical evil. It promised a way out of this dingy place, but when it came to the ocean at the mouth some ten miles away there was nothing but an endless border of water. I was trapped.

The knock on the door was the first sign that my caged existence was about to come to an end. I navigated past my couch and peeked through the peephole. My apartment manager stood outside in the dingy hall. I unlocked the knob and slid the chain off its hook, and opened the door. I leaned against the doorway and folded my arms over my chest.

"I paid the rent last week," I remindedhim.

The apartment manager, Mr. Meyer, was a portly man on the seedy side of fifty. He was generally unshaven and his clothes were stained with the constant plumbing issues that plagued the ancient apartment building.

He frowned and waved off my comment. "I'm not here for that. Old Mort passed away," he toldme.

I raised an eyebrow. "He was pretty old," I commented.

"Yeah, and a good paying customer like you. That's why I wanted to offer his room to you," Meyer explained.

Now that got my attention. The deceased Mort had held one of the apartments on the upper floors. Those apartments were coveted for their larger rooms, personal bathrooms, and even a washer and dryer. Mort's place even had an extra bedroom.

"How much is it?" I askedhim.

"Two thousand dollars a month."

I winced. That was almost my entire monthly salary. Net. "How long do I have to think aboutit?"

"Mort's family will be by here later today to pick up his things." I hadn't even known Mort had family. Nobody ever came to visit him. "So you can give me an answer by Friday, but no later. You're not the only one who wants that place, ya know, and I can't afford leave it empty for long." I suppressed the urge to roll my eyes. He could afford to leave it empty until the Rapture, but the miser would never admitit.

"I'll give you an answer by then," I promised.

He smiled and nodded his head. "Good. I'll talk to you then." He walked off, no doubt to make the same offer to every consistent-paying client in the lower floors.

I shut the door and leaned my back against the entrance. "Two thousand. . ." I murmured.

I'd need to get a roommate to fill that empty bedroom, but I could live with one person if it meant not having to share a bathroom with twenty others. A smile slipped across my lips. I knew just the person.

I snatched my keys from the table beside the door, but paused in front of the mirror close to the door. The reflection of a young woman with long black hair tied behind her stared back at me. My long bangs were swept to one side. I was dressed in casual dark jeans and a white t-shirt, my favorite ensemble. My dark eyes frowned back at me. The world had left me jaded.

I shook myself from my reflection and hurried out. The dingy hallway had various layers of wallpaper, and all of them peeled from the walls. The floorboards creaked beneath my feet and here and there were telltale signs of the rats that infested the communal kitchen. Halfway down the hall and to my left were the battered old stairs. The steps once had a fine carpet in their center, but that was worn through to the cheap wood. In case of a fire, that tinder-match assortment of wood would be the first escape route. In such a situation I doubted whether I could make it to the third floor.

Another of the inhabitants shuffled from their room. It was a man nearly as old as Mort, and possibly in worse health. His skeletal frame rattled with a hollow cough, but he managed to give me a wide, toothy smile.

"Good morning, Miss Leila," he greeted me. Only he greeted me by affixing 'miss' to my firstname.

"Hey, Ben. How's it going to day?" I askedhim.

He nodded his head like a bobble doll. "Very well, Miss Leila, very well, but I don't like this new dog at night. It howls tooloud."

I skirted past him and shrugged. "I'm sure the dog catcher will deal with it. Good morning."

"Good morning, Miss Leila," he repeated.

I reached the last door on my hall and knocked. There was a pause while I heard someone navigate their way through the limited space of the apartment. The door opened to reveal a tall man with shocking red short hair. His hair was cut short and straight. He wore a plain white shirt with brown slacks, and his feet were bare. The man flashed me a white, crooked smile and leaned against the door frame.

"Good morning, beautiful," he greetedme.

I looked past him and into the apartment. The place was a mess with chip bags strewn about the area. The coffee table was buried beneath coke cans and old newspapers. A rolled up newspaper was clutched in his hand. I thought about changing my mind, but the chance at my own bathroom, even one shared with a slob, was too tempting.

"Meyer told me Mort passed away," I revealed.

Red folded his arms across his chest and laughed. "So he offered you the place, too, huh?"

"Yeah, and I wondered if you wanted to go in with me on the bill," I toldhim.

He grin broadened. "Sounds like a good plan. We could make a couple of bucks by renting out the spare bedroom."

"Then you'd have to sleep on the couch, and I don't have that great of a couch," I warnedhim.

He sighed and shrugged. "You can't blame a guy for trying."

"Actually, I can." My eyes traveled down to the paper in his hand. I frowned and nodded at the paper. "What are you doing withthat?"

He held up the paper between us. "What? Don't want me to be a paying customer to your employer?"

"I just work in the mail room. Whatever's printed on those pages has nothing to do with me," I defended myself.

"To be honest I didn't entirely buy it for your benefit," he admitted.

Red opened the paper so the top headline faced me. In black, tall letters was the headline 'Massive Fire Damages Legenda Labs.' Beneath the headline was a picture of one of the facilities across the river in the industrial district. Flames engulfed all three floors, and there was a large hole in the ground floor. I glanced over the lead paragraph.

Authorities are investigating one of the leading research laboratories in the city after a gas leak destroyed part of the main facility. Witnesses reported hearing a large blast and saw flames shoot two hundred feet into the air. Twelve facility personnel are reported to have died in the blast. Their bodies have yet to be retrieved as the head researcher, Dr. Gail Scitus, blames city negligence for the accident.

"So do you think they're telling the truth? About the gas leak, I mean," he wondered.

I shrugged and handed back the paper. "I don't know. I don't believe anything until I see it for myself."

"I heard some people saw something escape from there," he commented.

"Probably some rabid minks," I guessed.

"The thing was supposed to be huge. Like a bear," he persisted.

"Then they should catch it pretty soon. Anyway, are you in on the apartment?" I askedhim.

He tucked the paper under his arm and grinned. "I wouldn't miss the chance for the world."

"Good." I turned away from him and back down the hall. "I'll go tell Meyer and buy some stuff for the apartment. You get ready to move tomorrow."

He stood at attention and saluted me. "Yes, ma'am!"

I rolled my eyes. What had I askedfor?

2

I went downstairs to Meyer's office just off the dingy lobby. Papers and trash were scattered around the cracked linoleum floor, and the manager sat in a ripped leather chair with his feet on his desk. A slimy smile slid onto his lips and he raised his eyebrows.

"So you want the place?" he guessed.

"We want the place. Red and I," I toldhim.

His face fell. "I don't need two people living in there. One of you can have it, but notboth."

"It's zoned for two occupants, isn't it?" I questionedhim.

"Yeah, but-"

"And we can meet the terms you told me, so what's the problem?" I wondered.

He slid his feet off the desk and glared at me. "Fine, you can have the apartment, but don't go taking in any boarders for that secondroom."

"There is no second room. We each get our own," I assuredhim.

He snorted. "Sure, and I'm Santy Claus."

My eyes lowered to his gut. "Maybe you are, but we'll move in there tomorrow."

"You'll have to put down a damage deposit," he warnedme.

I crossed my arms over his chest and smiled. "Only if you're going to vouch for all the damage that's already there."

Meyer's face took on a sullen expression and he turned away. "Never mind. . ." he muttered.

I walked out before he could pull any more of his bullshit on me. None of the apartments in his building were worth a damage deposit. Besides, he didn't want any building inspectors to settle a damage deposit dispute. That would've meant an inspection, and he paid off the usual inspector to keep the building from being condemned.

Life in the city was good, but only for those who could afford thatlife.

I walked outside. The new apartment would let me store more food, and with a guy in residence I would need a largerhaul.

I paused on the stoop and looked up and down the long, curved street. The apartment building sat on the crest of a hill, and both directions disappeared over the horizon. On either side of the street were dingy structures. Some had old air conditioners that stuck out of windows. Others had cracked windows repaired with various colors of duct tape. A few homeless sat in the shadows of the narrow alleys that broke the long lines of buildings into small blocks.

I walked down the cracked steps and made my way to the small grocery down the block. It was a miserable city with its smoggy air and dirty buildings. The people wouldn't look you in the eyes except when they wanted to steal something from you. Gangs protected their block territory with knives when they outnumbered their enemies, and with guns when they didn't.

I passed the mouth of a rat-infested alley. A few gang members in dark blue coats whistled atme.

"Hey, baby, whatcha doing tonight?" one of them askedme.

"Why don't you stop for a while?" another wondered.

"Maybe later, boys," I replied.

In this city rats came in all sizes. You had to throw them some cheese to get them off your back. My cheese were promises to get back to them. I never keptthem.

I bought a couple of things at the small five-n-dime and walked out of there with two paper bags filled with food. I paused and looked up at the obscured skyline. One of the buildings stood out from the rest as a behemoth of artifice. The structure was built in the shape of a capital 'I.' At the distance top sat a stone castle. The Middle Ages copy cast its shadow over the city and lorded over us like an ancient god from some forgottenpast.

The place was called Indigo Towers, and was home to the richest man in the city, William A. Fox.

I shook myself from my reverie and started back home. The boys probably waited for me to keep my promise, so I walked back along a different route. This one took me down the street on the other side of the opposite block. That meant I had an alley to walk down to reach the stoop of my apartment building.

I reached my turn and stepped into the dank, narrow passage that city officials called an alley. The brick walls of the parallel buildings were so close to each other that two men couldn't walk side-by-side. I skirted the overturned, rusted garbage cans and cardboard boxes people called home. Ragged blankets and empty food wrappers littered the place, but the homeless were gone. It was daytime, and that meant panhandling at the more populated and pitying corners.

A noise came from behind me. I spun around. The bag in my right hand dropped to the ground as I reached behind me for the 9mm pistol hidden inside my coat. I looked for the danger. An empty can of beans stopped rolling ten feet from me. No one was in sight to make itmove.

"Hello?" I called out. I pulled out the gun. My eyes swept over the alley. There was only shadows and garbage cans, but anyone except a giant could've hidden behind all that trash. "Is anyone there?"

Nothing. The alley was as still as the grave. I re-holstered my gun and picked up the soiled bag. It'd fallen into a puddle. Typical. I turned away from thecan.

"Ulric."

My eyes widened. My pulse quickened. I whipped my head around. The alley was still empty, but I no longer felt alone. Someone was there, and they knew my lastname.

I strode forward, but with my gaze ever over my shoulder. Nothing moved, but that feeling of being followed never left me. I hurried down the long length of the alley and burst onto the street. The weak sunlight above me lessened the fear of the shadows behind me, but I still sprinted across the street to the stoop of my apartment building.

I paused at the door and turned around. A single car passed by. The shadowed mouth of the alley stared back at me, but all was still and quiet. I frowned.

"Just my imagination. . ." I murmured.

I unlocked the door and walked up to my apartment. The dingy place would soon be forgotten, but not before I packed up everything that belonged to me. I put the food away and got to work on my bedroom. The bed belonged to me, but it was so old a move would probably make it fall apart. I'd buy a new one later.

I went to the small closet and pulled out my clothes and shoes. A pile of cardboard boxes sat in one corner. I pulled them out and pulled off the lid of the top one. A silver chain with four beads at the bottom glistened in the dim light from the ancient bulb over my head. The center two beads were larger than the two on either side of them. I lifted the chain and held it in front of myface.

The beads and chain were all made from silver. It was a gift from my mom, but I never liked the thing. The beads were heavy, and the clasp would never stay shut. I glanced at the closet. Now that my clothes didn't hang inside I could see the walls. The darkest corner had a small nail driven into the wall. I walked over and hung the chain there. It would be a testament to my having been there. A memorial, if you would.

I finished my perusal of the boxes.

"Junk. . ." I muttered.

Most of it would be thrown out. I packed my clothes in the empty boxes and walked into the living room with my armsfull.

Something to my left caught my attention. I turned and looked out the window. The window led out onto the rickety old fire escape. I frowned. I swore I saw a shadow out there.

I set the boxes down on the couch and went over to the window. It was shut tight, but a few good pulls got it open. I stuck my head out and looked up and down. Nothing. I pulled myself half inside when my eyes caught on something on the escape and beneath the window. I leaned down and plucked it off the grates.

Hair. Dark brownish-black hair from an animal. Not human, but close to a dog or cat. I shrugged and opened my fingers. The fur floated down and slipped between the grates. Probably a stray cat exploring the area looking for free handouts.

I finished my packing and waited for tomorrow to bring me a fresh beginning to a newlife.

3

The next morning came dull and early. I got up and fetched a key from Meyer to enter the new apartment. He grudgingly acquiesced, and I packed my few boxes into the empty rooms.

The new apartment was three times larger than my old one, and my early arrival meant I had first choice of bedrooms. The two sat down a short hallway on opposite walls, and the bathroom door was situated at the end of the hall. I chose the bedroom on the right. The left one was larger, but there was only one window. The air in the city was dirty, but I liked to see the moon the few times when it made its appearance.

The packing was finished before another, more important duty interrupted the task: work. I climbed into my beat-up old piece of junk of a car and drove to those towers of human achievement. The commercial district was a hub of activity as everyone scurried to their places of work. Buses and taxis sped past my car as other vehicles like my own surrounded me. I was boxed in, trapped like a rat in a maze of mankind's own creation. My only salvation was also of mankind's doing: the officejob.

I parked in the underground parking of the Fama Front Report office building, the paper for which I worked. My job took me beneath the ground to the basement floor. A pair of steel doors behind the underground parking elevator led me, and the mail carrier, into the cavernous basement.

The walls were unadorned concrete and the few rooms were sealed by plain, heavy wooden doors with knobs so old the paint had long ago worn off to reveal the metallic material. A few of the rooms were offices, but there was a large room situated close to the interior elevators of the building. The room was filled with short, rickety tables that rocked when you put five pounds on them. The mail carrier dumped twice that weight on each of the dozen tables. I followed behind the man as he hefted in bag afterbag.

One of the office doors was connected to the large room. A thin man of middle age stepped out and frowned. This was my boss, Elliott Booker.

"You're almost late," he scoldedme.

"'Almost' being the important word," I returned as I shed my coat near thedoor.

His eyebrows crashed down. "Don't think because you're fast at sorting I wouldn't fire you in an moment. There's plenty of unemployed journalism students who would kill to have your position."

I turned to him and smiled. "But do you really want to work withthem?"

"No, and that's why I'm giving you a warning rather than tossing you out on the street for your lip," he retorted. He jerked his head over his shoulder in the direction of the tables. "Now get to work before the piles collapse those tables."

I stepped up to a table and looked through the piles of mail. This was the slush fund for the newspaper industry. Every day we received hundreds of tips, letters to the editor, and resumes. All that mess had to be sorted and delivered to the appropriate office. That meant browsing the address on the back of the envelope or the contents for clues to which department was indebted to them for morework.

The job wasn't for everyone. In this day and age there was always the chance a disgruntled reader or ex-employee would have a surprise in store for the first person to open the envelope. Then there was the sheer volume of mail. Day after day and week after week the letters came from the bags of the mail carrier and were deposited into the baskets of the the department heads.

I cut open the envelopes with my fingers and browsed the contents. A letter to the editor. That was tossed into the Editorial basket at my feet. Elliott came up behind me and watched mework.

"You're going to cut yourself opening those things up by hand," he scoldedme.

"I' haven't slipped in five years, I won't slip today," I replied.

Elliott half-turned and glanced at the tables. He ran a hand through his short, graying hair. "I'm getting too old for all this bullshit."

"You could always go back to a beat," I suggested.

He snorted. "I don't know which bullshit is worse. The crap we get from our customers or the crap we give to them." He looked down and tapped his foot against a box. "Better take the Editorials up. It's already full. I'll take it fromhere."

There were no special elevators to send directly up to each office. Every box had to be carried to their departments and dropped off at the desk of an unfortunate secretary. I hefted the box and stepped into the hall. Down the hall to my right was the general use elevator that led to the other floors. I stepped inside and was whisked to every floor that gave its sacrifice of travelers. Traveling the gamut of the floors brought with it some perks.

"Did you hear the News section was in trouble for that story they ran yesterday?" a woman whispered to her companion.

The guy shook his head. "No, which story wasit?"

"The front page story, the one about the lab blast. I guess somebody mentioned the head scientist's name when the official statement came from some general office," she explained.

He shrugged. "So what's the bigdeal?"

"That's what News wants to know," she told him. "One of the reporters used their connections to get the scientist's name linked to the statement, and now the editor wants to know who was the source."

"Seriously? That's bullshit," the man growled.

"And I guess there's been more sightings of the shadow that was supposed to be around there, but the higher-ups won't let anyone look into it," she added. "Rumor has it even the big boy's gotten involved."

The man raised an eyebrow. "Fox?"

She nodded. "The same. I knew it was going to be a bad day when that asshole and his Indigo Industries bought the paper. No wonder this place is going down hill. We don't get the juicy stories while everyone else gets the scoops." She sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "But at least we don't run the tabloidshit."

"Have you looked at the Life section? They ran a piece on losing weight through breathing in more air," he retorted.

"Slow life day, I guess," she replied.

The pair got off and I went on my un-merry way to deliver the mail. The day passed and night arrived at the end of my shift. Another day of my life was gone, and the only thing I had to show for it was a sore back. I climbed back into my old car and headedhome.

Crowded streets welcomed me to my block. The nearest open parking spot was a block away. I parked the car and looked out the windows. The few streetlights that worked were a dull, hideous green that barely lit their own posts. The mouths of the alleys were yawning voids of darkness that hid nightmares.

I sank back into my seat and sigh escaped my lips. My eyes fell on the glove compartment. I popped open the lid. My pistol and holster sat atop the registration and insurance papers. I never left home without them, but I did have to leave the things in the car forwork.

I slipped on the holster and checked the cartridge before I tucked the pistol into its leather sheath. I stepped out and looked around. Hopefully the boys weren't expecting me to keep my promise at thishour.

I strode down the street. The chilly fall air cut through me like a knife. I grasped the collar of my coat and wrapped it closer around me. My footsteps clacked atop the lonely sidewalk. I could see the light over my stoop. Just a little further and I'd behome.

I froze. Something inside of me forced me to look to my right. I stood at the opening to an alley. My eyes couldn't penetrate the deep shadows beyond the sidewalk, but everything was still and quiet. Such serenity couldn't shake from me the feeling that something watchedme.

I took a step back. A chill wind blew over me, reminding me the night was full of worse nightmares than my imagination. I hurried forward and reached the stoop without further incident. I slipped inside and walked up the stairs. The new apartment was on the fifth floor. My old apartment was on the fourth.

I reached the fourth floor hallway and a stooped figure rushed around the corner. We collided. I grabbed the railing and steadied myself before I tumbled down the stairs. My opponent stumbled back. It was a man of twenty-five. His short brown hair was slicked back in a way that aged him another ten years. He wore black pants and a blood-red overcoat that was buttoned so it hid his shirt. His tall collar gave the false impression that his head sunk into his coat. The man's pale skin and hunched stance reminded me of tormented zoo animals.

He raised his head, but his eyes hardly left the floor. His voice was soft and hesitant. "I-I'm sorry. Are you all right? Did you need help?" He reached out forme.

I slapped his hands away. "I'mfine."

He cringed and hung his head. "I'm sorry."

He hurried past me and down the stairs. I took a step forward, but paused. I leaned over the railing and looked down the rectangular gap that was created by the turns of the stairs. The man's slick head circled the gap until he emerged at the lobby. He disappeared in the direction of the front door, and in a moment I heard the entrance open andshut.

I shook myself and stepped away from the railing. He was an unfamiliar face among the occupants of the fourth floor. That must've been what caught my attention.

I proceeded down the hall and stood before my apartment door. My hand reached into my purse a moment before my eyes fell on the number on the door. This was my old apartment. I swore under my breath. Habit and the run-in with the stranger had forced me to take this familiar route.

I returned to the stairs. The last flight of steps awaited me, but I paused. I placed my hands on the railing and leaned over. The stairs and lobby below were empty. There wasn't a sound.

I shook my head. "Probably some guy visiting his girlfriend. . ."

I hurried up the stairs away from the old memories and to the new ones I would make at the fifth floor apartment.

4

I reached the correct door and stepped inside. The apartment was blanketed in shadow, but I noticed a candelabra with three candles sat on the dining table to my left. The slab of wood was covered with a clean white tablecloth and the chairs were shined spotless. Two places were set at either end, and a delicious roast chicken lay on a plate between them. Red stood beside the table with a wide smile on his face. He stepped away from the table and gestured with both hands at the .