The Luna's Vow

Chapter 12. On the Rocks (Blake)

Three werewolves raced with me.

Este and Steinar's white, speckled with silver-gray forms would have been perfect if we had more snow.

Harold's shape, black as night, made him a shadow in any terrain, just like his obstinacy cast a shadow over my mind. His obedience was too sulky, his obsession to kill his former fated mate—too obvious. We, werewolves, were born predators. Our instincts have to be tempered with control and laws, or we degenerate into the mob chasing us.

The way the rogues came after us—as a wild, violent hunt rather than as a harmonious pack—made me grit my teeth, even if it were to our advantage. They were cutting themselves at the knees with their lack of leadership and organization, but by Goddess! Werewolves shouldn't bounce through the woods frothing at the mouth until they jump on their prey by chance. It just wasn't proper.

And if they caught one of us by chance, and if we were defenseless—because unlike the rogues, the remaining three of us would come to the rescue—they would maul and savage without honor. No, not three; two, because Steinar was a mangy rogue.

"They are rabid, completely rabid," I howled in dismay. "Not werewolves, but a travesty."

"Why don't you stop, take charge and teach them the rules, mighty Alpha?" Only one man could suggest something like that, and in this snide tone. Outrageous! "Shut up and run, Steinar."

"Dear Blake, you can call me Dad," the insipid man replied. "It's only proper."

I don't know what I would have done to him, if Harold didn't call out, "Boat!"

In a stormy silence that reflected the state of the sky and the sea, we carried our boat to the water.

Then the three of them shifted to their human shapes, since the boat would sink under four werewolves. I alone remained as one to hold it against the crush of the surf.

As I did so, thrilled that my muscles bulged in a primal fight against the elements, Este picked her way to the bow to drive the boat.

Our vessel rocking on the waves only emphasized the grace of her movements. Her figure appeared fragile fresh after the shift from the powerful werewolf. The white fur, dusted with silver, was far more recognizable in the straight blonde hair, falling across her brow, and the pale skin with the freckles born of the moonlight, not sunlight. Her human also had an advantage of rounder breasts, so sexy above her willowy waist, that I couldn't take my eyes off of her.

Este's blue gaze met mine just before she turned away to start the ignition, and her eyes glittered in amusement. Her smile kaleidoscoped through dreamy, teasing, sultry...

My chest barreled forward with a base realization that in my werewolf shape I was at the moment the biggest, baddest and, therefore, the most desirable male around. Absurd pride, but I couldn't help it. It went straight into my groin, the mating instinct brightening the day.

I grinned like a maniac. If only Este and I were alone in the boat and the baying of the rogues didn't echo through the woods, zeroing on our location! There was bound to be an autopilot on a modern motorboat, right? I'd have rocked and tumbled her on those waves like—

Steinar squirmed on the widest bench in the middle of the boat, which he shared with Harold. "Being unmated has its advantages, eh, Beta? We look like moonstruck fools far, far less often."

Harold grunted something under his breath in reply, and I finally hopped into the boat, shifting into a human as I cleared the gunwale. The motor purred, the bow lifted, and the boat surged over the gray water. The salty spray pelted the windshield, moisture thickening and puffing up Este's hair. Wind tousled them and painted a rosy blush on the one corner of her cheek that I could see. I bet her eyes outshone the sea and the sky.