Free The Wolf Moon (an erotic paranormal romance) (The Wolf Ring) by Meg Harris Page A

noticed
something gleaming on one of her fingers—a silvery ring inset with a small dark
stone. But he was less interested in her jewelry than in the touch of her
hands. Even through his dark green t-shirt, it felt like she’d scorched him.
His skin began to itch fiercely.
    “You feel it,
don’t you?” Her hands trailed down his chest. “The burning of
the moon.”
    “I don’t know
what you mean.” His voice sounded gravelly and hoarse to his own ears. He could
feel the blood rushing through his veins, pooling in his groin. Well, that
wasn’t surprising. She was naked, after all, and there was no denying that she
was beautiful. But she was a complete and utter stranger, and there was
absolutely no way that he was going to…
    “Let me see it.”
She lifted her hand to his throat, tugging on the necklace he wore. It had
belonged to the elder Graeme Fenrir, and since the old man had died, he’d taken
to wearing it all the time, as a sort of tribute. It was a simple enough piece
of jewelry, a silver pendant hammered into the shape of a dagger, or perhaps a fang,
inset with a tiny chip of sapphire, the same shade his grandfather’s eyes had
been—and the same color as his own eyes, for that matter. It hung around his
neck, suspended from a black satin cord. He wasn’t sure how she’d known it was
there, though, hidden as it had been beneath his t-shirt.
    “It belonged to
my granddad,” he told her, trying to ignore the light brush of her fingers
against his throat.
    “Yes,” she said
softly, fingering the pendant. “It’s been… altered. Some of the magic has been
lost. That’s why you can’t effect the transformation.”
    He had
absolutely no idea what she was talking about. Nor did he care very much. He
was entirely focused on her. Her skin looked soft and satiny in the dappled
moonlight, her silvery hair seemed to glow with a light of its own, and up
close she smelled more female than ever. A fragrance clung to her, a scent of
musk and flowers and…
    Well, sex.
    He became aware
that he had a hard-on. A pretty fierce one, actually. He could feel his cock throbbing, straining against his jeans.
    She dropped the
pendant, and let her hands slide downward. She pushed up his t-shirt and let
her palms caress his chest, and an involuntary groan escaped him. Where she
touched him directly, he discovered, his skin no longer itched. Instead, his
nerves flared with heat beneath her questing fingers.
    “Yes,” she said
softly. “The moonlight burns you, and only this can soothe the pain.”
    “I… I don’t…”
    He meant to say, I don’t even know you . Or perhaps, I don’t have sex with strange naked women I
meet in the woods. Or simply, I don’t
know what the hell you’re talking about. But none of those words made it
out of his mouth, because she bent forward and pressed her lips to his chest.
    Pleasure shot through
every nerve in his body, powerful, irresistible. The itch was forgotten in the
rush of heat that flooded him.
    “This will help
ease the burning,” she whispered, brushing kisses over his chest. “But you
cannot achieve the transformation. Not yet. Not until the moon is full. The
magic in your pendant is not strong enough.”
    He had no idea
what she was talking about. Magic and transformations sounded like so much
nonsense to him. But he didn’t say so. He didn’t say anything, because he
couldn’t speak. Her mouth felt wonderful against his skin, the gentle touch of
her lips offering him glorious relief, and he leaned his head back and moaned
at the moon as her mouth moved lower, across his abdomen.
    “I know how you
feel,” she whispered against his skin. “I lost my mate a year ago, and I burn,
too. But I haven’t been able to find a suitable man. At least, I hadn’t… until
I saw you.”
    Her lips were
beneath his navel now, brushing over the thin strip of dark hair there, and his
cock throbbed with a terrible need. She was a nameless stranger to him, and yet
the touch of