Free Hidden Moon (Hot Moon Rising #4) by Afton Locke

dishrag left behind on the breakfast counter to clean up the mess.
    Shelley should help her, but her body had frozen into a rock.
    She’d worked so hard to raise those tomatoes—starting them from seeds in the
    greenhouse, fighting pests organically, picking, packing, and hauling them. Seeing the
    satisfaction on the faces of the diner’s customers as they ate Don’s spaghetti sauce or
    omelets made her efforts worthwhile.
    But the man she supposedly loved had destroyed her harvest in a blink of an eye. If he
    quarreled with her, would he throw her against the wall, too? After what she’d
    witnessed, she wouldn’t put it past him.
    When she could finally move her muscles, she dropped her order pad and ran
    outside. Alan’s loss of control had to be contagious because she rushed behind the
    building, dropped to all fours, and shifted. Never mind cleaning up his mess, prepping
    sandwich fixings for lunch, or wondering if her clothes would still be there when she got
    back. All she wanted to do was get away from him because he was right.
    He was a freak!

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Chapter Six
    When Shelley bounded out the door, Alan loosed a howl that shook the rafters. He
    hadn’t seen her shift but knew with a mate’s instinct she had. Every cell in his body
    screamed for him to follow her.
    Brett looked out the window. “Customers are coming.”
    “Calm down.” Derek gave Alan a gentle shake. “Shift back now or pretend you’re my
    dog.”
    Alan went limp all at once, reverting to his human form. Holy hell! What had he
    done? Luckily, he’d simply thrown some tomatoes and not tried to choke anyone, but
    he’d lost control. What if he’d killed a tourist? He had to get out of Florida—quick. If he
    ended up in jail, he wouldn’t have a normal life left to return to.
    “Sorry,” he muttered while Rand helped him into his clothes. “I don’t know what got
    into me.”
    “We’ll figure something out,” Derek said.
    Alan’s feet still itched with the urge to follow his mate and calm her down, but why
    bother? He couldn’t erase the spectacle he’d created. It was for the best. Now that she’d
    seen his true colors again, she wouldn’t try to keep him here anymore. Instead of relief, a
    yawning emptiness opened inside him.
    He cleared his throat, which was raw from screaming and howling. “I’ll start on
    breakfast.”
    “I’ll send someone in to help you.”
    Alan held up a hand. “No. I need to be alone.”
    When Shelley returned, and he knew she would out of duty, they needed to talk. Sure
    enough, she rushed in fifteen minutes later with a handful of breakfast orders. By then,
    the grill was hot, and he’d whipped up a bowl full of pancake batter.
    For now, cooking channeled his jagged energy. For some strange reason, it felt better
    today than sitting at a boring keyboard. Filling people’s stomachs, giving them strength
    and sustenance, was more primal than a bunch of silly computers people had managed
    to live without for centuries.
    Her face remained expressionless as she handed him the breakfast orders like a
    business colleague at the office, but her eyes were red. Had she been crying? When he
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    picked up a tomato for an omelet, their gazes dropped to it then locked with each
    other’s. The tiny flinch that ran through her—flickering in her eyes and rippling her
    shoulders—flayed his heart.
    “Should I duck?” she asked.
    “I’m sorry, Shelley.” His throat was still so raw he felt as if he’d caught a bad cold. “I
    didn’t mean to ruin your tomatoes.”
    Remembering the big red stain on the wall made him shiver. Had he really done that?
    In front of the whole pack, no less. Curtis had probably enjoyed the scene more than the
    movies.
    “It’s all right,” she said, sounding as expressionless as she looked. “You couldn’t help
    it.”
    He broke open an egg on the edge of a steel bowl. “At least now you see what I really
    am and why I have to leave.”
    She poured some pancake