Marked by the Moon (Nightcreature 9)

She nearly turned away and went back to Ella’s. But then the wolf trotted right past Barlow’s house and headed for the white monstrosity to the rear.

Alex followed. She couldn’t help it. She wanted to know what that place was, and now seemed like a very good time.

She reached Julian’s backyard just as the wolf turned into a man. Then she stood there frowning as the man opened the door and went inside.

She knew Barlow’s backside better than she knew her own.

That hadn’t been it.

Chapter 15

Julian ran through the night, attempting to make the memories fade. Not surprisingly, running didn’t help any more than fucking had.

He avoided his wolves. Right now he wasn’t fit company for man or beast.

He heard them in the distance, their howls lifting in a joyous serenade to the moon. If he was with them, he would do the same. The moon had marked them, it called, it soothed and invigorated. For werewolves, the moon was everything.

Julian ran until his stomach jittered and his head ached, and it became clear that he hadn’t become ill in LA because he’d left Alex too soon, he’d become ill because he’d left her at all.

And wasn’t that just fantastic?

Julian pushed that problem aside, dug a hollow in the snow, crawled in, tucked his tail atop his nose, and gave in to what was haunting him.

The memory of his wife.

I want your child, Julian.

She’d whispered the words into his ear as they lay side by side in their bed, and her hand drifted over him. He smiled, rolling on top of her, hardening even as he slipped within. Then he heard what she’d said, and he slipped right back out again.

She reached for him, but he stilled her hand. “Alana, I thought you understood.”

Sitting up, she pulled the sheet to her chin. “Understood what?”

“The limits of our existence.”

“There are no limits. We’re werewolves, Julian.”

As if he didn’t know.

Julian climbed out of bed and began to pace. “Your grandmother told me she explained things.”

“She did. She said I’d have a second chance at the life I wanted.”

“What was the life you wanted?”

“A dozen children.” She laughed. The sound, which usually made Julian’s heart flutter, suddenly made it stutter painfully. “Well, maybe not that many. But I love them so much. That’s why I kept teaching preschool even though the money was crap. Kids make life worth living.”

“Alana,” he began, and her smile faded. “There’ll be no children. Werewolves can’t have them. It’s impossible.”

“That’s…crazy,” she said.

“Is it?” Julian came around to her side of the bed, refusing to be hurt when she scooted away as if she’d just seen him for the monster he was. “Why would you think a werewolf could procreate?”

“Because—Because Gran said so!” Her eyes darkened with shock. “She promised me. Do you think I would have agreed to become like this—” Her lip curled. “—otherwise?”

“You’d have been dead otherwise.”

“Better dead than craving blood, being ruled by the moon, living in the middle of nowhere, with a town full of freaks.”