Temptation of the Wolf: A Silver Moon Novel (Book 1) (13 page)

The blade was bright, almost too bright to look at. Lyulf stared at it, his eyes burning with satisfaction as he turned it from side to side.

Luna was flooded with fear. The wolves had stopped attacking Lyulf who held the one object that could force them into weapons that would allow him to rule the world.

She couldn’t allow him to do that. She would die before she would allow him to.

Her bag had fallen into the wolfsbane. Quickly, she searched for a weapon, her fingers locating a tire iron, but her grip wasn’t tight enough and it dropped into the flowers. When her fingers clutched it properly this time she felt something soft, as though it had been coated in some soft sugary substance.

Brushing her hair out of her face, she started towards Lyulf and the unmoving wolves.

She was about ten meters behind him when he started laughing.

“It’s mine! No one can stop me, not even the great goddess herself. Come my pets, let us bring about a new era. The humans will bow to me or they will be ripped apart!”

Whipping his head around, Luna caught a glimpse of fury on his face before the tire iron struck his face. Head whipping backwards, Luna screamed. “Michael, now!”

Whatever hold Lyulf had had on the wolves dissipated with her words. Michael sprang forward, his powerful jaws fastening around the Fae’s throat. The red wolf locked onto an arm, another wolf onto an ankle, until they all had a body part in their jaws. Michael tore out part of his throat, the wound creating a spray of blood that any horror movie producer proud. Lyulf screamed, his eyes blazing with fury, his body attempting to throw the wolves off.

It was when the white wolf dropped their part of his body that Luna acted. Still holding onto the tire iron, she screamed, bringing it down on his face with such a force it could rival a werewolf’s strength. The impact tore screams from Lyulf’s throat, and the hissing of burning skin could be heard over it.

Luna raised the weapon over her head and swiftly brought it back down again, hitting his nose and mouth. Over and over again she struck him, her own screams matching his until they were both silent and the only sound that could be heard in the clearing was the sizzling of Lyulf’s flesh.

Finally she dropped the weapon, releasing a breath she hadn’t realised she had been holding.

The air filled her lungs but it didn’t refresh her. Instead, the act of breathing caused her to fill pain. A wave of dizziness flooded through her and she fell to the floor. Her fingers touched something, something cold.

The dagger.

Lyulf lay still on the ground, his body a gory mess of blood and burnt flesh but she didn’t want to take any chance. Drawing in a breath as deep as she could, she gripped the dagger and plunged it into his chest.

A strangled sound from the bloody body before her startled her but Luna forced the dagger out and then plunged it into his chest again. A shimmer of silvery light danced before her eyes and then she felt the warm touch of human fingers on her hands.

Glancing upwards, Luna was thankful to see her brother there. Ignoring the fact that he was obviously naked and saturated in blood and open wounds, she gave him a small smile, the relief rolling off her in waves.

“Give me the dagger, Luna”, he croaked. Wordlessly, she allowed him to take it from her hands. Once he had it, he plunged it into the Fae and then reached into the wound. Desperately trying not to throw up, Luna watched him as he pulled a barely beating heart out of the cavity.

Lyulf was dead but Michael wasn’t done yet.

Taking the dagger, he used it to sever the Fae’s head from his body. The dagger cut through the bone and sinew as though it was made of nothing but butter. Closing her eyes, Luna fought against another surge of light-headedness.

Michael stood up, although it took him time to do so. Clutching the dagger in his hand he let loose a scream. Not of pain, not of anger or frustration. It was a scream of primeval satisfaction, of victory against a formidable enemy.

A war-cry worthy of a king.

The wolves began howling, joining in the battle cry with their own unique voices. To Luna’s ears it sounded beautiful, as though magic had found a voice and she was listening to it sing.

It was the last thing she heard as she collapsed to the ground.

The sun caressed Luna’s skin, a light breeze playing with her hair. It was almost as though the wind was made of a thousand fingers running through those pale golden locks and the image made her smile softly.

She was sitting out on the porch in an old rocking chair, Michael having discovered it by chance. Even though it was hot, a steaming cup of Earl Grey nestled in the palm of her hands. The sound of birds chirping in the trees created a calming atmosphere, as though nothing could go wrong.

Earlier on that day, she and Michael had said goodbye to their parents. They had both been cremated, the pastor delivering a beautiful speech about how wonderful they had been, living good lives and looking out for everyone in town. Several people had got up and talked about how much George and Sherrie England had meant to them. Luna wept softly, Michael holding her hand, Chase sitting next to her handing her tissues.

It was a beautiful ending to something that had started so terribly wrong.

After Michael had beheaded Lyulf, Luna had woken up in hospital covered in wires and tubes. Immediately upon waking she had thrown up all over the doctor who had been examining her. He had actually been nice about it despite the smell. Michael and Chase had been waiting for her to wake up, concern written all over their faces.

The smell had to have been worse for two werewolves with extremely sensitive noses.

When Luna could finally focus, and stopped throwing up over everyone, the doctor had explained that she was experiencing the effects of aconitine, or wolfsbane poisoning.

“How?” she had croaked, her throat feeling as though it was made of sandpaper.

“Your brother tells me you fell into some wolfsbane,” he said. “The cuts on your back, hands and face meant that the poison was able to enter your system much quicker than by just touch alone. You’re incredibly lucky that you only absorbed a little amount of the poison – if you had any more you’d be dead now”.

Luna had just nodded, her body feeling weak and tired. When they were alone, Michael and Chase had explained what had happened. She had collapsed in the woods, her body covered in sweat, barely breathing. They had rushed her to the hospital. She had been asleep for nearly thirty hours. They had told the doctors that she had stumbled into a patch of wolfsbane on their property. They were sceptical about the cuts on her back but they advised to dig up the flowers and burn it all.

Two days later Luna had been given the all clear to go home. The tingling had all gone, as had the headaches and sweating, but she still felt a little shaky, as though her legs didn’t want to work. On the way home Michael told her Angel was locked away, waiting to have her tried for attempting to kill him.

When she got back to the house she found Pierre had called her dozens of times.

Telling him that she had slept with Chase had almost been as hard as walking into the woods that night. She knew back then that there was going to be pain and it was the same feeling she got when she finally rang him. At first he had been silent, as though he was trying to understand the joke but eventually he realised she was telling him the truth. He had sworn briefly in French, something that he had never done in her presence before, and told her an icy goodbye before hanging up on her.

Chase had found her crying, cold tears trailing down her face. His touch caused her to look up, his face softening as he brought his lips down upon hers. There had been no force, no demand, just a soft kiss, one that tasted like rain on a summer’s day. Chase’s kiss refreshed her, enticed her, promising so much more.

He was temptation but should she give into that desire?

Pierre had left her, rightly so. She hadn’t expected him to forgive her in the slightest and she still felt the heavy blanket of guilt from cheating on him, but what happened had happened. She couldn’t change that. Nothing could. Michael hadn’t said anything specifically but the idea of his best friend and his baby sister sleeping together didn’t sit well with him, although he told Luna that whatever happened he’d stay out of it.

Chase hadn’t pushed for more than that one kiss. “When you’re ready you’ll come to me”, he had said, his breath warm on her ear, still smelling oh wild herbs and honey.

Luna was undecided when it came to Chase. He had affected her in a way that no other man had ever done. His chocolate brown eyes and self-assured grin did something to her, tempting her.

Bringing the cup to her lips, Luna felt the hot liquid slide down her throat. Glancing upwards, she watched Chase staring at her as though she was the only woman in the world. The four buttons on his pristine white shirt were unbuttoned, revealing an expanse of smooth tanned skin.

Temptation had never looked so good.

Lian Slayford is a qualified archaeologist specialising in Religious Archaeology. Studying at University College of London, she graduated with honours before starting a career in content writing. She loves anything and everything to do with history, mythology, religion and travel and combining all these elements together makes for a very happy writer.
Living in Europe, America and China has allowed her broaden her horizons, get to know the local traditions and cultures and hone her writing skills. Her love of adventure and anything different makes for interesting and fresh result. She has ghost-written numerous travel and city guides for blogs, websites and eBooks.
Temptation of the Wolf: A Silver Moon Novel
is her first fiction book to be published.

Come visit her website,
Beautiful World Escapes
, for more travel related guides and information.