Thanks to my publicists Renee and Sarah for always looking for new ways to find new readers! You rock! And to my amazing street team, the Night Angels, you have been so crucial in helping me get the word out about this book. I’m grateful to every one of you! Thanks to Denise for your beta reading excellence and to Panda for being my second set of eyes.
And special thanks to my amazing husband, Ken. Your belief and faith in me and my stories makes me feel like anything is possible, and that is the most priceless treasure ever.
Keep reading for a special look
at the next novel
in the Moon series
Hunter’s Moon
by
Lisa Kessler
Coming soon from Entangled Edge
Chapter One
Aren
The dry Las Vegas wind stung my eyes as I rounded the corner of the building, scanning the shadowed parking lot for my prey. Even the dark of night couldn’t cool the desert heat wafting up from the pavement. The stench of the spy’s fear stung my nostrils, making the corner of my mouth twitch. I could admit I was eager to take this guy down, but knowing he was scared shitless sweetened the deal considerably.
For the past six months, this secret had festered inside me like an open wound. I’d been traveling too often. Instead of protecting my Pack back in Reno, I had found myself sneaking around, unable to stop myself from tracking her. Protecting our enemy.
Sasha.
The wolf inside of me growled, aching to fight for this woman I barely even knew, who’d tried to kill me. Twice. I forced a slow breath into my lungs. Patience. I could wait this guy out. My bum ankle left me little choice anyway.
All my senses were on full alert, adrenaline pumping through my veins. Nero was still searching for her, and this guy was the latest in a string of scumbag informants looking for easy money. With a bounty on her head, they were eager to provide proof that she was still on the loose.
Finally he made his move. I heard his footsteps racing toward the alley. Toward me. Perfect. I stepped into his path, blocking his only exit. He tried to pivot and change course, but it was too late. The weasel rammed into me, falling backward. Before he could roll over and scramble away, I grabbed his shirt and yanked him off the ground.
“You’re not going anywhere.” My eyes narrowed as I pulled him even closer, his scent filling my nostrils. He was human. Apparently Nero wasn’t ready to risk another jaguar assassin to search for her. Maybe they were starting to believe she really had died at the fight in Lake Tahoe. “Tell me about Nero.”
“I don’t know nothin’.”
He wriggled like a fish, his feet struggling to touch the ground. I was at least six inches taller than him, and I had no intention of letting him get away. Instead, I head-butted him. Blood erupted from his nose, the thick coppery scent immediately bringing the wolf inside of me to full attention.
“Goddammit,” he shouted, kicking me in the shins while he yanked at my wrists. “Let go of me, you crazy son of a bitch.”
I kept my grip tight on his shirt. “I asked you a question.”
“And I told you, I don’t know nothin’.”
“You’re lying,” I said before slamming him against the brick wall of the alley.
He coughed, spewing putrid breath into my face. He reeked of week-old cigarettes and cheap vodka. “Please,” he stammered. “I don’t know nothin’ about any Nero.”
“Why have you been trailing the red-haired woman?” He started to shake his head, so I freed one hand from my grip on him and landed a solid punch to his stomach to joggle his memory. “Answer me.”
He stopped kicking his feet, and his stare met mine. Gradually the fear in his eyes faded. My patience was wearing thin, but before I could rattle his cage for a reply, he started to smile and whispered, “They know she didn’t die in that fight.”
Before I could respond, pain burst through my gut, setting my entire side on fire. Dammit!
The asshole had stabbed me.
I pressed him against the wall, forcing myself not to loosen my grip. Fear crept back into his eyes when I didn’t let him go. I held him up with one arm and yanked his knife out of my side with the other.
His eyes opened wide. “What the hell are you?”
Using both hands I threw him across the alley, satisfied to hear his skull crunch against the bricks. He hit the ground like a rag doll while I clutched the new hole in my side.
“I’m a wolf, asshole.”
…
Usually Jason, our Pack doctor, patched up our wounds, but that wasn’t an option for me this time. My twin, Adam—our Alpha—would demand to know what happened.
And for the first time in my life, I had no intention of telling him. What could I say? I let the Pack believe I’d killed Sasha during the fight with Nero instead of admitting I’d pulled her to safety. And now I was still watching her. Even Adam wouldn’t—couldn’t—let that one alone.
Never in a million years would I have ever believed myself capable of betraying my Pack, my family. But I never understood the depth of my wolf instincts. Now they demanded I walk both sides of the line, leaving my loyalty torn into shreds.
I couldn’t risk going to the Pack with this wound. I had to sort it out without them. Besides I was at least an eight-hour drive from Reno. I’d have to risk a few stitches and be sure I didn’t allow any blood to be drawn. I could do that.
By the time I pulled into the urgent care center, I knew the stab wound wasn’t too serious. If he’d hit an artery or a major organ, I would have bled out by now. But I couldn’t ignore a gaping wound in my side either. Werewolves may heal a little faster than humans, but a nasty staph infection could take a wolf down just as well as the next guy.
The knife was wrapped and carefully hidden under the floor of the trunk with my spare tire. Maybe I’d be able to pull fingerprints from it later.
I got out of the car and winced as pain radiated up my leg. I sucked in a deep breath through clenched teeth. My ankle was fucking killing me. Perfect.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead and limped into the brightly lit room. The triage nurse jumped up and rushed me to an exam room. Being covered in blood apparently trumped the other emergencies.
I hated the smell of hospitals. My acute wolf senses caught the cacophony of blood, urine, and disinfectant, morphing it into a disgusting scent of decay that turned my stomach. I got up on the exam table, slightly wobbly from the blood loss. The nurse laid a clipboard on the counter and scribbled something quickly before turning to face me.
“So what happened?” She snapped on a pair of latex gloves and reached for the hem of my shirt to inspect the wound.
“I’m all right. It’s just a little scratch.”
Her eyes widened when she found the source of my bleeding. “This isn’t a scratch. You’ve been stabbed.”
I forced what I hoped was a convincing smile. “All I need is a couple of stitches.”
She shook her head and stepped back. “You can smile all you want, but you’ll still need to speak with the police about your injury. It’s hospital policy with stabbings and shootings.”