Moon Dancer E-Book

Aimee Easterling

• Herausgeber: Aimee Easterling
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

One werewolf: Free to a good home

Three months after becoming a shifter, my bloodthirsty beast fights me for control of our shared body. My boss is unhappy with my erratic behavior. And Claw --- the enticing alpha who made becoming a werewolf semi-palatable --- is avoiding me while I try to transfer my wolf to his human sister.

The transfer fails, but a vision promises I'll find mystical assistance on the other side of the country. Clinging to humanity during a problematic road trip in charge of human students, I'm left wondering whether my ordinary life will be there when I return for it.

And will Claw still speak to me when my wolf is gone?

This is the second and final book in Aimee Easterling's Moon Blind series.

Leseprobe

Moon Dancer

Moon Blind, Volume 2

Aimee Easterling

Published by Wetknee Books, 2019.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

MOON DANCER

First edition. August 15, 2019.

Copyright © 2019 Aimee Easterling.

ISBN: 978-1393590675

Written by Aimee Easterling.

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Epilogue

Moon Stalked

Chapter 2

Sign up for Aimee Easterling's Mailing List

Also By Aimee Easterling

Chapter 1

It came as a dream but felt like a vision. A wolf’s face in beaten copper, hollows where the eyes should have been. The hand I possessed—broad, ornamented with a ring of twisted fibers—slid the wolf mask into a tightly woven basket that bobbed along the edge of a barely illuminated stream.

“...The old ways.” A male voice rumbled out of my chest. Quiet drumbeats almost drowned out our words.

Something clenched inside me. My wolf, sleeping until then, woke and clawed at my insides.

Pack. Find him....

This was no time for lupine nonsense. I pushed the wolf down, analyzing the artifact that was being released into an underground watercourse.

It was ancient. Even in the dim light, I could tell the mask had a story and belonged in a museum. Was it...?

Before I could fully formulate the question, the artifact was lost into the wild. Like a stick dropped into a stream to race against another, the basket leapt free of our fingers and jumped forward out of reach.

We didn’t try to stop it. Instead, we stood frozen while the roar of a not-so-distant waterfall was overwhelmed by a rising melody of chants and drumbeats. Weariness of age made our body tremble as the last flicker of copper disappeared into the darkness.

“Come,” the man murmured. His voice was querulous. “We need you.”

For one moment longer, we lingered. I couldn’t tell why the man whose body I inhabited wasn’t moving or who he’d been calling, but I understood my own intentions.

It had been months since I’d visited the past in a vision. No wonder I reveled in the connection. What was this man about to reveal to me? What would...?

We turned. Hit pause on a cell phone. The soundtrack halted mid-note.

Wait, what?

This wasn’t the prehistoric past. This was the technologically overpowering present.

I woke to the blaring anger of a long-ignored alarm.

***

THE FASTER I TRIED to button my white silk blouse, the more my fingers fumbled. No wonder since my nails kept lengthening into claws.

“Cut it out,” I muttered, grabbing my keys and wallet and stealing one quick glance in the hall mirror. I needed to be on time. I needed to look professional...

...And I needed to rebutton my blouse. Because, despite my best efforts, I’d still managed to mismatch the rows.

My day. My choice, the wolf inside me grumbled. She forced me to drop the car keys back into the bowl by the door then bent our body double until clean cuffs dragged against grubby floor tiles. Run. Hunt. Come, Adena.

The raven responded to our body language with a caw and a rustle of feathers, hopping off the coat rack to land on our curved spine. Both bird and wolf were willing to blow off the most important lecture of the semester in favor of stalking rabbits in the empty lot three blocks over. Unlike me, they had no concerns about losing our job and winding up homeless when we failed to pay the bills.

Wolves don’t need houses, my inner beast scoffed. Wolves need pack.

“How about blood?”

Hmmm?

The body she commanded froze, knees pressing against unyielding floor tiles. We sank back onto our skirted bum, the welcome mat managing to scratch our skin despite the fabric in between.

My wolf was listening.

“Hot blood,” I elaborated, pressing my index fingernail against the pad of my thumb to measure sharpness. The claw had receded but my human nail was longer than it had been when we’d started our morning power struggle. Still, my nails weren’t so claw-like that I’d have to rush back to the bathroom and clip them. If the wolf accepted our humanity, we didn’t have to be late.

“Salty. Tasty,” I continued. Testing my muscles, I rose into a more human posture. “Look.”

Flicking open the drinking spout of the insulated coffee mug, at first I smelled nothing. Then, my wolf’s interest piqued.

Colors dimmed. Scents sharpened. Saliva pooled in our shared mouth.

I hurried through the locking of one door and unlocking of another. But my wolf didn’t stay distracted long.

Now, she demanded as my hand made contact with the cool metal of the car door handle.

I tried to clench my fingers sufficiently to pull up on the lever, but my left hand was the one that moved without my permission. The mug lifted to my lips. Drink, the wolf demanded.

I couldn’t bait and switch, so I swallowed the thick liquid I’d bought in the butcher’s freezer section yesterday then primed in the microwave moments earlier. The notion of what I was sucking down repulsed me. The taste was vile.

The wolf disagreed. Pleasure suffused us. Was she or I the one being strengthened by the liquid some poor cow had lost while being processed into hamburgers?

The demand that followed was most definitely lupine. More.

“Once we get there,” I countered. This time, I managed to slide into the car so we could speed toward campus. It was only a three-minute drive and my lecture wasn’t scheduled to begin for another four minutes. I wasn’t yet officially late.

More! Furry fingers clenched around the steering wheel, swerving us sideways. The car’s fender narrowly missed a pedestrian, who yelled something I was glad was blocked by the closed window. Adena responded from the passenger seat with a round of avian swearing as I turned into the closest lot.

“We’re almost there.” I needed both hands to park and grab my laptop case, but I rolled my tongue around in my mouth to capture the final molecules of blood.

The effort was a sop to my wolf and she responded with a minuscule relaxation sufficient to allow me to exit the vehicle. Our knuckles were hairless—mostly. And I found myself able to juggle the mug and the laptop once Adena abandoned me in favor of her customary tree branch.

Sunny March weather meant the raven preferred to stay outside while I lectured. My wolf had similar inclinations. But the salty liquid on my tongue soothed her. She hummed her satisfaction as I swallowed one last particle of blood.

The bell tower chimed, knocking me off my stride. Shoot. I’d forgotten that my car clock ran two minutes slow.

Sprinting, I clung to the mug while rebuttoning my blouse and trying not to let the laptop strap bounce off my shoulder. The halls were empty. Everyone must have already settled into their seats.

I burst through the door, gazing up at the packed lecture hall. My eyes slid over the back corner, hiccuped as my wolf struggled for dominance.

She wanted to greet him. She wanted to lick him. She wanted to....

Squashing her interest, I moved on to assess the room professionally.

I was late, but the turnout was excellent. I could still make this appearance work.

“Ah, here she is now.” The new department chair turned to greet me, only a faint twitching in her cheek denoting her disapproval of my tardiness. “Please give a warm welcome to Dr. Olivia Hart.”

The clapping was effusive. I smiled then leaned over the nearby table, setting down my bag in preparation for hooking my laptop up to the projector.

And my wolf pounced.

“Blood.” Her words. My mouth. A titter from the audience.

Not now! This time I was the one speaking silently. She was the one grabbing the travel mug and upending it over our tilted face.

Ruby red liquid poured out the hole in the top, glinting in reflected sunlight before gushing over our taste buds. Most we swallowed—after all, the wolf thought this treat was delicious. But some overflowed onto our chin, the table, the neck of our blouse.

White no longer, my work attire was now streaked with crimson. I glanced down, cheeks heating at the way blood puddled between my breasts.

This wasn’t how I’d intended my lecture to start.

Chapter 2

The wolf had drunk with wild abandon. But she was a predator. Even while reveling in cow blood, she hadn’t closed her eyes.

So I was privy to the reactions of the audience. Surprise. Disgust. Bewilderment.

The cluster of archaeology faculty two rows back vibrated with consternation. This open-to-the-public lecture was meant to draw new students into our department. My actions would surely drive our existing students away to biology or math.

The Archaeology Club was more forgiving. My former-student-turned-teaching-assistant Patricia cocked her head as if waiting for the punchline. She whispered something to the blond freshman beside her. A cascade of nods fluttered down the line, ending with a pencil-stick drumbeat from the pimply boy on the end.

Between the two extremes, audience members I was unfamiliar with exuded pheromones that tantalized my wolf-assisted senses. Confusion. Excitement. The slick sweetness of fear.

I swallowed hard. Or rather, my wolf swallowed. We licked blood off our lips, raised our hand to wipe our chin, then sucked on our fingertips.

We didn’t try to erase the streak of red across the top of our formerly pristine blouse. There was nothing to be done about that so it was better ignored.

Instead, we turned to face the audience member I’d been avoiding, the only person my wolf was interested in. Claw.

He perched at the edge of a seat at the rear of the lecture hall, flanked by familiar werewolves. The others were overlookable, but Claw was tall, broad, glowering.

Magnificent.

No wonder my wolf advanced a single step in his direction. Our joint body vibrated with interest. She acted for all the world as if—three months after Changing—we were still very much caught in the fickle attraction of the moon blind.

If so, moon blindness had its advantages. My animal half was so intent upon Claw that she forgot to fight me for control of our shared body. She didn’t notice when I grabbed her tail with intangible fingers and yanked.

I struggled not to gag as furry feet slid down my gullet and into my stomach. My eyes bulged as her claws scraped against the underside of my skin.

But now I was in charge and she wasn’t. Time to salvage the lecture.

“Blood,” I repeated, this time speaking my own mind rather than responding to the wolf’s yearning. “Blood was one of the binders added to rock powders to help colors adhere to cave walls.”

I plugged the HDMI cable into the side of my laptop, hit a button, then relaxed as prehistoric art glowed into life on the screen behind me.

“Blood-red ochre was used ceremonially for tens of thousands of years across several continents. Also known as iron oxide, the pigment was painted onto cave walls, used in ceremonial burials, and streaked across bodies, weapons, and animal skins.”

I dipped my fingers into the blood puddling in the indentation atop my collarbone, used the drying liquid to streak quick lines across my brow and cheekbones.

Now the cascade of red around me wasn’t horrifying; it was intentional. Was this how the first shamanism had started—klutziness saved from ignominy with a little stagecraft?

Warm air swirled around my nostrils. The audience was relaxing. As my faux pas faded, I segued straight into Patricia’s promised punchline.

“For hunters, blood was instantly familiar,” I continued. “Drop a caveman in this lecture hall and he’d know I merely spilled my morning tomato juice.”

***

AFTERWARDS, THE STUDENTS mobbed me with questions and effusions. But my wolf slid past so quickly her act bordered on rudeness. What did students matter when Claw was present? Without wasting time on apologies, we took the stairs to the back of the lecture hall two at a time.

All three werewolves rose as I approached them. The gesture might have been respectful, but it felt more like intimidation. I tensed, fully expecting a mean-spirited comment from one of Claw’s companions.

After all, Theta was dour by nature and Harry hated me because I’d lost him the job of presidential protector. Both were strong, hard, and capable. No wonder they found it frustrating to cool their heels in a small college town.

Claw was their alpha, however, so where he went they followed. Now, they let their leader do the talking for the group.

“Olivia.” Claw’s voice was as sweetly seductive as the cloud of butterscotch surrounding him.

“Claw.” I breathed the word as I relived our most recent conversation. For weeks, I’d avoided this werewolf who turned my inner beast unruly. But three days ago we’d all been invited to the White House for a formal thank-you from our President.

There, Claw had finally drawn me aside and forced the conversation I’d been trying to escape.

“What you and Val want,” he growled, “is an abomination.”

“I have to do this.”

“At least hunt with the pack one more time before you make a final decision.”

“I’m trying to cut that tie, not strengthen it.”

“You think starving your wolf will make her leave you?”

“I’m not starving her. I’m segregating her.”

“That’s the exact same thing.”

His eyes had said I was an idiot, but his mouth remained silent. We’d left it at that. Or I had.

Since then, Claw kept showing up just beyond speaking distance. In the cafeteria when I met with a student interested in a career in archaeology. At the edge of my vision when I walked home on a day too warm to be stuck in a vehicle. Outside my bedroom window just before I closed the shades for the night.

His silent presence should have been creepy. But Claw met my eyes, raised his brows, accepted my silent refusal to budge on my decision.

Rather than a stalker, he was a sentinel guarding a recently Changed werewolf. He disapproved of my decision, but he wouldn’t try to force the issue. Instead, he watched, waited, expressed his willingness to help if I lost the battle with my inner beast.

Now, he took a single step forward. His lips parted—for a kiss or a comment?

I never knew, because Claw’s languid grace shifted into alertness as his eyes flicked up and over my shoulder. Behind you, my wolf warned unnecessarily.

I whirled, taking in the grandmotherly form of Dr. Inez Sanora, the new department chair. She was one inch shorter than I was, her long gray hair twisted into an unremarkable bun. But her tone reminded me less of a fairy-tale grandmother and more of the big, bad wolf.

“When you have a moment, I’d like to speak with you.”

Apparently my joke about tomato juice hadn’t hoodwinked everyone.

***

“SO,” DR. SANORA STARTED once we were settled in her office. “What’s going on?”

She didn’t smile. She never smiled around anyone except students. But her dark brown eyes were warm and non-judgmental. This was my chance to spill my guts.

I didn’t, of course. Dropping my gaze to her empty desk blotter, I redirected into an apology. “I’m sorry I was late and unprofessional. I overslept my alarm....”

“I don’t mean today. I’m referring to your recent pattern of behavior.”

I winced, fully aware that I hadn’t been giving my students the undivided attention they both paid for and deserved. Unfortunately, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and all weekend, my wolf consumed me. Which meant coming to the university on an off day—like I had this morning—was a recipe for disaster.

Before I found a way to voice that problem in a human-friendly manner, Dr. Sanora lost patience with my silence. “What was your purpose in becoming a professor?” She leaned forward. Her head cocked. This wasn’t a rhetorical question. She really wanted to know.

“I...” It was hard to explain. I’d felt so alone as a child. Teachers had been my lifeline. I wanted to offer that same connection to those I taught.

Voicing that reasoning aloud sounded pitiful, however. So I went with the obvious instead.

“Archaeology is my passion. I want to share the past with scientists of the future.”

Dr. Sanora’s lips pursed and she hummed noncommittally. “Good words, but your actions don’t support them.” She pushed a sheaf of papers toward me and I barely had time to skim the first line before she continued. “I’ve received complaints from half a dozen students who are unable to stay late at night to find a spot in your office hours. They love you when you’re present, but you rarely are.”

Ungrateful brats. My wolf didn’t need to read the anonymized emails to come to her conclusion. I wriggled my butt against the seat cushion to remind her now was not the time to sprout a tail.

We’ll fix this. Today, I reminded my alter-ego. Aloud, I spouted similar promises. “I’ll do better.”

“See that you do.” Dr. Sanora opened her laptop and turned her attention to the screen, a clear dismissal.

But when I reached the door, she couldn’t resist a parting shot. “And put something on that blouse. Tomato juice or blood—once they dry, both stains are impossible to get out.”

Chapter 3

Unlike the always-prepared Dr. Sanora, I didn’t have a stain stick stashed away in my office. But I did possess a spare t-shirt that smelled like the man who had gifted it to me—Claw.

Shaking out the soft fabric, I couldn’t resist raising it to my face and swallowing a lung-deep inhale. Butterscotch with hints of sandalwood, the affiliated damp-moss scent lost to the twelve days since a wolf transformation had taken me by surprise and left me begging for help from the werewolf I had previously avoided at all costs. The shirt was far too small to fit across Claw’s broad shoulders, but he must have held it close to his skin for some time to imbue it so thoroughly with his scent.

In my belly, the remnant of a pack bond quivered. Ours, my wolf murmured. I swallowed against the lump in my throat.

“Are you going to put that on or just smell it all day?” Val bounced into the room, as effervescent as champagne and twice as lively. “Not that you should be dressing. Go on, girl. Strip.”

Her excitement sizzled in my nostrils, overwhelming her brother’s older aroma and knocking me out of my melancholy. The moment of truth had finally arrived.

“You have it?” I asked as Val closed the office door then yanked down the small shade in the built-in window to block the view of random passersby. I mirrored her actions, closing the blinds on the larger windows behind me before beginning to unbutton my blouse. “And are you sure we should do this here?”

“We shouldn’t use the pack house. Claw disapproves. Your house has too many exits. Look.”

As she spoke, Val reached into her jacket pocket and removed the small, gray bauble I’d asked her to pick up on her way over. Scanning my wolf then printing a miniature 3D replica had taken some doing. Good thing I had twenty-four-hour access to the innovation lab.

That’s me. My wolf was uninterested in the logistics. Reaching out to snatch the plastic statue with human fingers, she turned it around to view herself from every angle. I’m pretty.

“What’s she saying?”

I started to hedge, then realized I was being unfair to both of them. If this worked out, my wolf and Val would become intimately acquainted. Val needed to understand the choice she was about to make.

“She thinks the statue is pretty.”

No, I’m pretty. Ask again if we can hunt every day.

“And she wants to know if you’re really willing to be four-legged every single day if the transfer is successful.”

I placed the statue on my desk so I could cup Val’s hand in both of mine. Since Changing into a werewolf, I’d become much more touchy-feely.

“Val, you need to seriously consider what this would mean to your life. It’s not easy juggling wolf and human natures. It’s...”

“I really, really want this. You’re doing me a huge favor.” Val’s smile was so wide it distorted her speech.

I shook my head, refusing to let her off the hook so easily. “Changes aren’t guaranteed, Val. Look at me.” I gestured at the bloody blouse, the dirty wolf tracks in one corner of the room where my inner beast had shifted yesterday. The sensation of mouse fur in my mouth still made me wince. “I’m considered a success story. Do you want this to be you?”

Against my will, hairs rose up and down my arms as my wolf tensed inside me. She didn’t entirely follow the verbal banter, but she knew I was being disrespectful. Val’s expression, when she shook her head, was almost sad.

“You’re the one who’s missing out. Not just on your wolf, but on Claw. On being part of something profound.” Now it was her turn to squeeze my fingers. “You do realize that you can’t have it all, right? Maybe a werewolf can’t be an archaeology professor, but a human also can’t be a full member of a pack.”

My chest tightened as I evaded her eyes and pondered my answer. I thought Val was wrong...and she thought I was wrong. Just talking about it drove a wedge between us.

In the end, I decided not to argue further. Val had spent over a decade around shifters and knew what she was getting into. We’d used blood tests to confirm her latent werewolfism and I knew the steps required to rip the animal spirit out of a Changed werewolf.

Plus, I desperately needed to ditch my beast so I could return to my normal life. Archaeology. Teaching. Neither were compatible with furry runs through the forest.

I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that selfishness was a big part of my decision.

“Let’s do it,” I decided. “Give me a little space. I need to shift.”

***

THE LAST TIME I’D PERFORMED this ceremony, I was stuck within the skin of a prehistoric shaman. I’d been unable to do anything other than watch.

Still, the steps were as deeply ingrained as the act of sifting back-dirt at an archaeological work site. I could have run through both procedures in my sleep.

“Ready?” I was speaking to my wolf, but Val was the one who nodded. Taking internal silence for agreement I wriggled out of my underwear then let the wolf have her head.

The beast ripped out of me in a breathless burst of animal vigor. Hit the ground with our descending forepaws so hard a three-thousand-year-old pot rattled on my desk.

So much for animal grace. I would have rolled my eyes if I’d still had command over them. As it was, all I could do was kibitz.

The wolf snorted her annoyance at my internal chatter. Together, we padded three steps forward so we could pick up the wolf statue between sharp front teeth. It tasted like chemicals and scorched plastic. Nothing like the stone animal the shaman had used to work literal magic three months—or many millennia—before.

Still, we kept our jaw muscles clenched as the wolf turned the reins over to me willingly. I gathered my breath and my focus. Then—

“Woman not wolf,” I gasped as human legs lengthened and broadened beneath me. The statue tumbled out of my mouth into Val’s waiting hands.

“Did it work?” she asked, running her fingers across the plastic wolf statue. The surface was visibly wet from my saliva, but she didn’t flinch at making contact with my bodily fluids.

“I don’t know.” I lacked the twist in my stomach that I’d felt within the shaman’s body. Cold air flowed across my nakedness as I roused my wolf out of her panting respite. “No way to find out other than to move on to step two.”

My wolf was willing but tired. Slower this time, we shivered down onto four legs, our balance tricky until our body finally disgorged a tail and lengthened our neck on the other end.

The fangs in our mouth took thirty seconds to regrow, but our mind buzzed as if we’d overdosed on sugar. Now for the real test. The first wolf-to-woman transformation had been meant to imbue the plastic with power. This second shift would draw the magic back out.

Val knelt and pressed the statue into our open mouth, ignoring the sharp lupine teeth that grazed her unprotected flesh in the process. “I’m ready whenever you are,” she promised, gazing directly into our eyes but speaking only to the animal half of our partnership. “I can’t wait to run with you. We’re going to have so much fun.”

Yes, now, my wolf agreed around and within me. Shift, she ordered.

And...I tried. But my feet were wobbly, our shared lupine body tremulous with exhaustion. Pack bonds weighed me down and I swayed beneath their restrictions. Thread-thin connections to Claw, Harry, and Theta wound me up like a fly within a web.

“Olivia?” Val asked, her voice squeaky with uncertainty. I whined in answer. This wasn’t going as planned, but at least we had no audience....

Behind us, a gust of warm air blew through a door that had been shut one moment earlier. Barely audible footsteps approached. The click of a latch blocked wolf-friendly retreat.

Chapter 4

“So you’re doing this.” Claw’s voice was like fermented honey, sweet at first with a bitter aftertaste. Inside my belly, the tether between us widened, strengthened. The pack bond filled me with a caffeine-like boost of energy...and at the same time worked against me. The harder I pressed against the inside of my wolf’s skin now, the more she resisted my impulse to shift.

Pack, she whispered.

He’ll still be your pack when you’re Val’s wolf.

My wolf’s reaction was wordlessly dismissive. The future was unknowable. She wanted to rub up against Claw now.

Focus, I gritted out as the human we were supposed to be partnering with danced around me to greet her brother. In lieu of an answer, my wolf planted her feet and stood frozen until two pairs of legs reappeared at eye level.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Val told her brother. “I think Olivia’s stuck.”

I wasn’t stuck. My wolf was recalcitrant. Whatever the reason, though, Val’s words were growing more and more distant, my vision tunneling in on the pool of saliva puddling on the floor between our paws.

Claw’s face at eye level, however, drew our attention. “Do you want me to leave?”

I should have said yes, but his presence sent warmth tunneling through chilled muscles. United about this, at least, my wolf and I swayed our head side to side in denial.