Moonlight Kin: A Wolf's Tale Read online

  Turning away from the mirror, Damon retrieved the file on Madeleine Valois from a nearby table. Her pale beauty flashed before his eyes, causing a visceral reaction that made his attraction to her difficult to ignore. He longed to touch what his senses had observed.

  She was human, he reminded himself again. He didn’t do humans...anymore.

  Damon fisted his hands in frustration, ignoring the stab of pain as his fingernails dug into his tender palm. He raised the wound to his face and leisurely licked away the blood, groaning as the sticky substance washed down his parched throat like a crimson cocktail. The taste was intoxicatingly arousing and enough to make his cock hard. He smiled.

  Vampires weren’t the only creatures aroused by blood. Of course, they didn’t exist. The bad behavior of a few Lycans centuries ago had given rise to the undead myth. Storytellers and fiction writers filled in the rest.

  Damon paced back and forth in front of his gray marble fireplace, his footfalls echoing on the hardwood in the still of the house. He picked up the photo on the mantel and studied the smiling faces. He’d been ten at the time the picture was taken. Jacque had been twelve. They’d just gotten new bikes from their dad. It was a big day, a happy day. One he’d remember forever. Damon ran his thumb over the photo. So many great memories cut short thanks to the Hunters. He set the picture back on the mantel and swallowed his grief.

  Madeleine wasn’t his brother’s killer. His senses hadn’t lied—at least not about that. He was sure of it. There was no way she could’ve killed Jacque without getting a drop of blood on her. Even if she wore gloves, the blood would’ve hit her somewhere. That didn’t mean she wasn’t somehow involved. She could’ve very well been an accomplice.

  Nevertheless, Damon would follow orders. Carry out the decree. Kill her. Innocent or not.

  Soul be damned.

  Jacque deserved to be avenged. Blood was blood, he reminded himself.

  Damon hesitated. Therein lay his conundrum. Werewolf blood was different. No amount of scouring could remove the scent. His keen canine senses would have detected its sharp tang instantly. Yet, Madeleine had smelled of fragrant flowers, feminine musk, and the onset of her monthly heat.

  So if the latest Hunter hadn’t done the job, then who had killed his bother?

  His mind searched back to that painful moment in time. The pack had enjoyed years of uneasy peace with the Hunter until that fateful night two months ago when several Lycans found Jacque dead.

  Damon remembered the evening Luc, his Beta conveyed the news in vivid detail. Overcome by grief and rage, the beast inside Damon slipped out and nearly destroyed everything in his own living room.

  He shook his head as he ran his palm over the smooth arm of the new brown leather furniture that he’d purchased to replace what he’d ruined. Even now the pain of loss sliced deep.

  By the time Damon had calmed down enough to go to the scene of the crime, Jacque’s body had vanished, leaving no blood trail to follow.

  A cry of anguish ripped from deep inside him as the memory burst forth, shattering his heart again. He couldn’t bear to think about what the Hunter had done with Jacque’s remains.

  Damon imagined all sorts of horrific possibilities, including his brother’s wolfen head stuffed and hanging over a mantle at the Valois family estate. Since Jacque’s disappearance, four more pack members had gone missing and were presumed dead.

  Blood or no blood, the Valois’s that claimed this territory had committed the murders. They’d made sure to let the Lycans know by leaving behind their usual calling card, a silver coin with the east coast family’s crest on one side. For centuries, the coins had been the way of identifying which branch of the family made the kills. Each Valois family had their own crest and their own coin.

  There was no mistaking who was behind the murder. They’d practically signed their name to the heinous deed.

  Damon reached into his pocket and pulled out the coin. He rubbed the crest with his thumb, then slipped the coin back into his jeans. He carried the reminder of their treachery with him and would continue to do so until his mission ended.

  The family of hunters left behind a bitter pill to swallow. Madeleine may be innocent—for now—but it was only a matter of time before she followed in her family’s bloody footsteps. The Valois curse would take care of it, whether she chose to or not.

  There was no escaping fate for either of them. Beauty or no beauty, the killings would not happen again, as long as Damon was alive and still Alpha.

  His muscles rippled beneath his shirt, straining with each inhalation. Frustrated, Damon calmed his breathing. Nothing made sense. Madeleine was the Hunter, yet she did not hunt. Was Gaston back to his old ways? Given his fragile state of health, it seemed unlikely he’d be able to take down a Lycan in his prime much less the four that had followed since his brother’s death.

  Blood never lied.

  It was obvious Damon needed to do more investigating before he took his suspicions to the Elders. He must be certain. The Elders did not appreciate hunches or innuendos, only facts.

  All werewolves knew humans were sniveling creatures, who could not be trusted. Yet in truth, very little was known about the Hunters. Like Lycans, they’d spread out around the world and kept a low profile to avoid discovery. The Elders foolhardily offered a peace treaty with scarce information to go on. The document was intended to prevent any more needless deaths. What it did instead was bind Lycan hands, preventing them from retaliating without permission of the Elders.

  Moreover, Gaston Valois complied quickly—too quickly, which should have raised a red flag. Instead, the Elders rushed in, drafting the treaty in haste, before thoroughly investigating Valois’ motives for compliance.

  The pack now paid the price for their folly.

  Damon opened the file the Elders had put together on Madeleine. Scanning the pages briefly, his eyes settled on her class schedule. Mrs. Raven Montgomery jumped off the page. Next to the name was a phone number. So Raven was her professor. Damon smiled, his next move becoming clear. He dialed the professor, pleased when a woman’s voice answered the phone.

  This will be easy.

  Within seconds, the professor was agreeing with everything he said, unable to resist the compulsion in Damon’s voice. Soon all would be arranged. The bloodline would be severed and the killer punished.

  For the sake of werewolf survival, Madeleine Lucine Valois would die.

  Chapter Three

  Madie rushed through the door leading into the art department—late again. Despite it being a Saturday, people milled in the hallway. A sure indication that the class was already full. Students buzzed, clamoring to be heard, their voices rising in excited chatter. The heat and nervous energy was palpable.

  Today marked the end of their final art project before graduation. The Professor had chosen to hire a live model to close out the class. Failure at this stage wouldn’t keep Madie from graduating, but it would lower her overall grade point average.

  She paused a moment to catch her breath and tighten her severe ponytail. Sunlight filtered through the windows, causing dust particles to swirl and bob in the bright rays.

  Brown wooden stools perched in front of empty easels were arranged in a semi-circular pattern around a center platform. Dr. Montgomery’s oak desk had been positioned against the wall in what would normally be the front of the class. Coats and jackets hung from old-fashioned wooden pegs at the back of the room.

  Madie removed her coat in a flurry, almost knocking over one of the nearby easels in the process. She steadied the stand, then placed her coat beside the others. She scanned the room for her friend, while wiping her sweaty palms on her oversized sweater. Madie crossed her fingers, hoping against hope that Sarah arrived early enough to save them a good spot.

  A hand waving frantically back and forth caught her attention. Madie released a tense breath as relief flooded her. Sarah had scored places over by the windows, right in front of the model’s platform.

/>   Madie smiled and gave a quick wave back. She ignored her classmates’ curious glances and hushed whispers as she threaded her way through the crowd. She should be used to the gossip about curses and werewolf hunters by now, but the chatter still hurt. When Madie made it to her seat, she opened her case and put her drawing pad onto the easel, then hugged Sarah, who’d jumped up to greet her.

  Though close friends, they were as different as spam was to filet mignon. Sarah was the type of woman who grasped life with both hands, tasting and experiencing whatever her heart fancied.

  She had dark luxurious hair, sun-kissed skin, and a bawdy personality, while Madie’s white blonde hair clashed with her dark, guarded demeanor. She was the first to admit that she had trust issues. When you grew up cloistered in the Valois family, it was mandatory.

  Sarah may not realize it, but Madie lived vicariously through her, since her own personal experiences didn’t extend beyond the pages of a book—thanks to years of private tutors, personal bodyguards, and homeschooling.

  To grasp life by the horns would require interacting with other people, trusting them. Madie had neither the social skills nor the inclination to do so. She was just happy that she’d managed to find one person to call friend. Madie glanced over at a couple of students who snickered at her, then turned away.

  There were worse things in life than only having one good friend. Like having no friends at all.

  Sarah held a green pouch in her palm. “Look what you forgot.”

  Madie took the pouch. “Saved me again. What would I do without you?”

  “Forget your head.” Sarah laughed and then plopped down on the stool next to her.

  “No doubt. Speaking of losing my head, I nearly lost it last night after the movies. By the time I made it home, I’d managed to scare myself silly. Next time, we’re watching creature features in the afternoon.”

  “Wimp.” Sarah chuckled.

  Madie clucked like a chicken, which made Sarah laugh harder, then she untied the ends and rolled the pouch open to reveal the various pencils inside. Double-checking their sharpness with the pad of her index finger, Madie laid the pencils out in front of her blank canvas and absently arranged them in a straight row.

  “The model should be here any minute,” Sarah blurted with barely restrained excitement in her voice.

  “Sarah Ann, you act like you’ve never seen a naked man before.”

  “I’ve seen plenty of naked men. You’re the one who hasn’t.” Sarah arched a brow in challenge, daring Madie to deny her claim.

  Blood rushed to Madie’s cheeks. Blushing easily was an unfortunate trait she’d inherited from her mother. “I’ve seen a naked man before,” she muttered.

  “Walking in on Jerrod, Tom, Steven, or Michael coming out of the shower doesn’t count. They’re my brothers.” Sarah gave a mock shudder. “Let me just say for the record, ‘Ew’. Just thinking about it might send me to therapy.”

  “Did Steven say that I did it on purpose? It was an accident. I swear.” Madie pulled at the collar of her sweater, trying to cool her heated skin. It wasn’t her fault Sarah’s brothers made a habit out of leaving the bathroom door unlocked while they showered in the morning.

  When it came to men, Madie knew she could talk a good game, but in the end that’s all it was—talk—she didn’t have any firsthand experience. And it wasn’t due to lack of trying on her part.

  Between homeschooling and her family’s kooky reputation, Madie hadn’t experienced much of anything, which was just the way her father liked it. From as early as she could remember, he’d drilled it into her head that she had to remain pure of heart, mind, and body. Thanks to his overprotectiveness, she’d become a social pariah.

  Sarah, on the other hand, was known to her friends as being a big flirt. Strangers preferred harsher terms like slut or whore. Her friend wasn’t a whore, but women can be cruel when it comes to judging other women, especially if those women are prettier than they are and catch the attention of their boyfriends. Sarah loved sex and refused to be ashamed by that fact.

  Like Madie, Sarah had started college late and her reputation kept her from making a ton of girlfriends. In each other, they saw a chance to have what they’d desperately needed in their lives. That had been over two years ago and their friendship was still going strong.

  Sarah had celebrated her twenty-fourth birthday the week before. Madie’s head still ached at the thought of that overindulgence. She refused to think about the fact that her own birthday was closing fast and would be upon her in two weeks. Once she hit twenty-five, her fate was sealed—or so her father claimed. Madie didn’t believe in curses or fate.

  Stop being so melodramatic. Try to enjoy the time that you have left.

  Curse or no curse, Madie was stuck with going through with Papa’s silly initiation. He was determined to bring her into the fold. The only reason he’d allowed her to go to college was because he’d promised her mother before she’d died that Madie could have two years of freedom.

  That freedom had cost Madie her inheritance. Gaston had put a freeze on her account that wouldn’t be lifted until after her birthday, and even then, it wouldn’t happen unless she returned.

  “Are you still planning to go home the week after graduation?” Sarah asked.

  Madie nodded.

  “Are you really going to let your father put you through that silly woo woo stuff?” Sarah voiced Madie’s unspoken concerns.

  “I don’t have a choice. I promised,” Madie said. Not that she needed a reminder. It was the only thing on her mind next to graduating. “We need that money to open up the art gallery, remember?”

  “I remember,” Sarah said. “But everyone has a choice.”

  If she had any other choice, she would’ve already made it. “Not me.”

  None of this would have occurred if her mother were still around. Papa hadn’t been the same since her death. Instead of grieving, Gaston had turned his attention on her. Madie couldn’t seem to do anything right.

  Gaston had always been gruff, but lately he’d become domineering. He wanted to know where she was and who she was hanging out with at all times. He questioned her appearance, especially her hair color. Like it was her fault that she’d been born with blonde hair, not red.

  He’d even gone so far as to hire a man to follow her and keep tabs on her movements. When one brave guy got the courage up to ask her out, Gaston paid him to go away, then suggested an arranged marriage instead. Fatherly devotion was quickly becoming obsession.

  For the first time in her life, Madie feared her father and what he might do.

  But she’d vowed to her mother that she’d follow her dreams no matter what. If that meant pacifying Gaston and going through with some ridiculous initiation, then so be it. She’d look after the old musty books and pretend to be the next great white hunter. He’d just have to get over the fact that she wasn’t going to kill anything on her watch.

  “What about a loan?” Sarah asked.

  “You know I can’t get one without my father co-signing.”

  “You’re almost twenty-five years old.”

  “I’m aware of that. I am also painfully aware that I have no real credit. Banks frown on that sort of thing.” She grinned. “Besides, Gaston has mom’s fortune my inheritance spread out in all the banks in the area. No banker in his right mind would risk losing the Valois’ business to appease a broke college student.”

  “What about out of the area?” Sarah asked.

  “I barely make enough to cover rent and expenses. I wouldn’t even qualify for a cheap car loan,” Madie said.

  Sarah’s expression grew serious. “So where does that leave you?”

  “Up a creek, paddling with a teaspoon.” She shrugged. “I’ll have to go through the motions. Pretend to become ‘Madie the Mad Slayer’, then the money will be mine.”

  Sarah laughed and rolled her eyes. “Sounds easy.”

  “Yeah, easy,” Madie murmured, hoping against hope it wou
ld turn out to be.

  Her final year of school was almost up and things hadn’t worked out the way that she’d planned. Graduation was next Saturday and she was no closer to realizing her dream of owning an art gallery. Before she could get too depressed about it, the door flew open and banged against the wall.

  Everyone jumped. All eyes turned, riveted on the man who’d walked into the room.

  Madie’s breath seized in her lungs.

  “Whoa! Talk about making an entrance. I’m in lust. I think I just met my future ex-boyfriend.” Sarah kept her voice low, so only Madie could hear her.

  She glanced at Sarah. “You’re so bad.”

  “You love me and you know it.” She winked. “I better double check my supplies, because I’m not about to miss an inch of him.” Sarah’s gaze scrolled down the length of the man before reversing direction.

  Madie’s eyes were drawn to the statuesque man lounging just inside the doorway. He wore a white towel around his trim waist and from the looks of it, nothing more.

  Sable-colored hair flowed wildly from his head as if someone had been running their fingers through it all night. Maybe some lucky woman had. Madie tackled her thoughts before they went any farther.

  Sinewy muscles rippled beneath tanned skin to form his exquisite chest. Dark hair arrowed south down the hard slab of his abdomen, ending in a perfect ‘V’ at the white towel snugged around his waist.

  No stranger to the gym or a hard day’s work, his well-developed arms were lined with veins and flexed with the littlest of movements. The muscles in his long legs rippled with silent power as he shifted his weight. Yet the man wasn’t bulky. He looked built for speed, agility, and most of all, sex.

  Lots and lots of sex.

  His relaxed stance screamed confidence. It was the kind of confidence that made his nakedness seem as natural to him as breathing. The kind of confidence that Madie would never have in this lifetime. Yet her palms itched to touch him.