Call Of The Moon

Lunar Mates 4:

Call of the Moon

By

Loribelle Hunt

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Lunar Mates 4: Call of the Moon

Copyright© 2006 Loribelle Hunt

ISBN: 978-1-60088-100-8

Cover Artist: Sable Grey

Editor: Melanie Noto

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Cobblestone Press, LLC

www.cobblestone-press.com

Dedication

Many thanks to my editor, Melanie, and publishers, Deanna and Sable.

And to Michelle, this one’s for you babe.

Chapter One

Chloe stepped into the clearing and took a deep breath, trying to slow the hammering of her heart. She gulped past a lump of fear. It wouldn’t do to let her emotions get away from her in this crowd. The Council meeting had lasted most of the day, and now with dusk beginning to fall the celebration would begin. At least a hundred people were milling about, and more were arriving by the second.

The Council of Chiefs had chosen the Panhandle pack to host this year’s meeting, and wouldn’t you know that’s where she’d run after she killed Wyatt? Two chiefs—Jackson and Darius—were being recognized as having survived the trial period, and the whole event had turned into an excuse for one big party.

She looked around, unable to hide her smile of appreciation. The host pack had gone out of its way for this reception. Trees strung with bright white lights surrounded the huge clearing and torches lit the clear areas. Long tables were piled high with food. There was even an open bar. By the time she arrived, the place was packed. She’d considered leaving town while the Council was in session, but she hadn’t seen her parents in months. And in the end, what good would it do? She’d given her word—and that meant Billy would come after her.

She felt eyes on her as she moved through the crowd, and pushed away a surge of panic. There was no danger lurking here. Wyatt was long gone. And she didn’t—wouldn’t—belong to anyone else.

Still, she couldn’t help the knot in her stomach, the pounding that began behind her eyes. There were too many werewolves, pressing too close. They looked at her with curious, speculative gazes, and her skin crawled.

Tears pricked her eyes and she squeezed them shut, willing the moisture away. Her counselor, a werewolf’s mate, had assured her that some day she would feel whole, complete, and strong again. She wasn’t so sure. Six long months had passed and she felt the same as she had the day she’d walked out of Jackson’s house and never looked back. Joanne thought that was part of the problem—she needed to face the place where she’d lost her hope. And she needed to face Billy Cagle. That task seemed impossible. As much as she secretly admitted she longed to see him, she didn’t trust him not to force his claim.

She felt him seconds before she saw him. As she scanned the crowd for her parents, her eyes clashed with his. He held her gaze before slowly nodding and disappearing into the throng. A sudden rush of awareness made her lightheaded. She spun to push her way back to the parking area. It was her first glimpse of him in months, and she had to get out. In her haste, she bumped into a tall, broad back.

“Whoa! Hey, are you okay? Chloe?”

She looked up into Jackson’s concerned face, and smiled weakly.

“Fine. I’m...fine.”

He frowned, obviously not believing her. He took her elbow.

“Come say hello to Summer and meet her cousins. They’re having a regular reunion over here.” Anxious to avoid Billy, she almost refused. But one look at his determined jaw made her relent.

She’d been ignoring the disapproving stares of the Appalachian pack members for days. It wouldn’t do to piss off their Alpha.

He threaded his way through the growing throng of people and came out on the edge of the crowd. Releasing her elbow, he grinned and walked toward a laughing group of women sitting on three stacks of crates. Chloe stared at them. It was as if they were holding court. Three regal looking females surrounded by werewolves. What would it be like to have that kind of self-confidence?

With a jolt, she recognized Darius and Trey among the wolves. The normally grim-faced pair were smiling and laughing with the rest of them. As she walked forward, she saw recognition, pity, and disapproval flash in their eyes—although they recovered quickly. Her spine stiffened. She wasn’t looking for acceptance, and she sure as hell didn’t want anyone’s pity. She lifted her chin and met their challenging gazes. She would control her own destiny.

Then she turned her head and met Summer’s eyes, and was wrapped in such warmth she forgot all about the men. She remembered hearing that Summer was a witch, and smiled when she introduced her to her cousins, Meg and Tara. The women were a study in contrasts. Summer was of medium height and build, Meg was short and curvy, and Tara was tall and sleek. They pulled her into their laughing circle and Chloe liked them all immediately.

She relaxed and listened closely as Summer talked with the other two and watched the crowd for her parents. They were using the event to meet up with old friends from other packs and hadn’t managed a visit yet. Her parents weren’t concerned. They expected her home soon. And just like that, Chloe felt Billy watching her again. She looked up, and saw him standing just a few feet away, his gaze steady and calm.

Summer leaned over to her. “He’s not sure if he’s welcome over here right now. He doesn’t want to upset you.”

Startled, Chloe turned her head to meet Summer’s eyes. Had the other woman read her mind while she wondered why Billy didn’t approach? Summer took a sip of her drink and watched Summer over the rim of her glass.

“We’re all naturally curious about what’s going to happen between you two.” The knowledge that she was the object of speculation upset her nearly as much as knowing everyone expected her to eventually submit to Billy. Her eyes watered and she shook her head.

“I don’t think I can,” she whispered to Summer.

She again felt an outpouring of warmth, and recognized it for what it was. Friendship and strength. It buoyed her, made her think that maybe she could face Billy, stand in a group and speak to him. But when she turned back to look, he was gone, swept away once again by the swelling crowd.

Surely that wasn’t disappointment she felt. She sighed and shook her head.

She was a mess. A confused, damaged mess. Why would anyone want her? Why would Billy Cagle, Beta of one of the most powerful North American packs and by all account a very together individual, want someone like her? Her internal monologue stirred her anger. She took a good look around, and noted the couples in the clearing. To her right, Trey stood with Tara pulled in front of him, his arms around her waist. Darius held Meg’s hand while she talked quietly to Tara. And even though he wasn’t touching her physically, Jackson’s eyes never strayed far from Summer and he made sure she always stood within easy reach. This is what Chloe should have had, a relationship that screamed intimacy, trust, and love. Was that what she missed most in her life? Was the lack of a love life why she felt less than whole?

She didn’t miss Wyatt. Not ever. But she often found herself daydreaming about last year, when she spent hours waiting for Billy to appear in the diner. She did miss that. Closing her eyes, she sighed and faced the truth. She missed
him.

She had to get out of the crowd and go home, where she could examine this new revelation and decide what to do with it. Making up an excuse about not feeling well, she quickly said her goodbyes and made her way back across the clearing to her car.

It wasn’t a long drive to her house, which sat on a small rise with a stream meandering along beside it. The builder hadn’t bothered to construct the driveway across the water, instead opting to fashion a small parking area with a footbridge over the stream to allow access the house. She pulled into the slot and parked next to a familiar black SUV. Looking up at the house, she saw Billy sitting on the front porch and her hands gripped the steering wheel convulsively.

He sat in the glider, leaning over with his elbows on his knees and his head in hands. She considered leaving, and that thought dredged up a remnant of anger. This was her house, damn it. It was the first place she’d felt safe since she left her father’s house. Reaching for the door handle, she exited the car and walked across the bridge, ready to give him a piece of her mind.

By the time she reached the porch, she was good and mad and he stood straight as an arrow, waiting for her. His first glance took the wind out of her sails.

“I’m sorry for surprising you like this,” he said quietly. “But I had to see you somewhere I knew you couldn’t run and hide.”

“Well, shit,” she muttered, aggravated that he knew her so well.

He hid a smile behind his hand.

She scowled. He certainly had her figured out. Yet her irritation didn’t last long and she drank him in. He looked tired, with fatigue etched around his eyes and new lines appearing around his mouth.

His eyes—those intense, laser blue pools that always seemed to see straight to her soul—were full of longing. She felt her own eyes welling up and silently cursed Wyatt for destroying her ability to trust.

She unlocked the door and waved Billy inside. Wariness warred with curiosity inside her heart.

She wanted to know what he’d been up to, how he was doing. He’d always talked to her at the diner, even when she tried to be unresponsive and brush him off. It had surprised her when she’d first moved to this swamp how much she missed that wary companionship. But his presence made her nervous, too.

She was ready to take a step, not a leap, and werewolves didn’t tend to operate that way.

Billy wandered around her living room, taking it all in before sitting on the long leather couch. She stood just inside the doorway, her body language a tangle of confusion. He saw nervousness in her hands, fear and interest in her eyes, and caught a faint scent of arousal on her skin. The wolf in him wanted to pounce on her and take her to the floor where she stood, fuck her, and mark her as his. He forced himself to sit still.

He’d come to the meeting with one mission—to convince her to accept his bond and come home with him. He couldn’t take much more of the distance she’d put between them. For at least the ten thousandth time, he wished Wyatt was alive for him to kill all over again. It wouldn’t make him any more dead, but it would give Billy a great deal of satisfaction. The werewolf had stolen his mate and even in death kept them apart. He took a deep breath, willing his hammering heart to slow and reaching for the calm for which he was so well known.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he asked Chloe.

She silently stepped into the sunken living room and dropped her bag on a side table. Then she surprised him by perching on the far end of the couch, when he’d expected her to choose one of the chairs out of his reach. Her hands fisted in her lap and she looked down at them.

“How have you been?” he asked.

Her head jerked up. He was glad he had her attention, but he wasn’t sure if he could take the scared look in her eyes.

“Fine. You?”

He nodded. “I’m good. No—that’s a lie. I’m miserable and irritable and apparently such a nightmare to work with that Jackson keeps threatening to…well, never mind.” She stared at him like he’d grown an extra head and stood abruptly.

“I can’t do this,” she said, turning on her heel and walking past him.

He grabbed her hand. “Chloe. Wait.”

She looked down at him and tried to pull her hand free. Her eyes brimmed with tears. Ah, hell.

He wished more than anything that she’d let him pull her down onto his lap and kiss them away. He sighed. Another time.

“Let me go, Billy. Please,” she whispered.

The word
please
almost killed him, almost made him want to redefine his mission. Before he could talk himself into it, he shook his head.

“I can’t, and you know it,” he answered softly. “I can’t stand to see you upset like this. You know I’d never hurt you.”

She snorted a laugh, but quit trying to pull away. “You want to take over my life. You want me to submit.”

He couldn’t deny the domineering nature of a werewolf, and nodded in agreement. “That doesn’t have to equal pain. I’m not here trying to pretend to be something I’m not.” Unsure how to convince her to give them a chance, he took a deep breath. He could tell her how much he loved her, but she wouldn’t believe him. So he might as well fall back on the physical needs of his species. That she understood, and since he could already smell her arousal on her skin, the odor faint but definitely there, he thought it might be his best chance. So, giving in to temptation, he tugged her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms around her. She felt so good there he almost forgot his plan.