Lori Handeland - Marked by the Moon

“Interesting,” Ella murmured, at the same time Julian tossed a pair of the ugliest boots ever invented onto the table between them.

Alex glanced up. Had he heard her say she wanted to rip off his face? If he had, he hid it well. Maybe he’d already surmised how she felt. He might be annoying, but he certainly wasn’t stupid.

Instead of throwing the navy-blue rubber boots at his head, Alex put them on and followed him from the house. Perhaps if she fought him less, she’d feel like herself more. Couldn’t hurt.

“We need to talk,” he said.

“You couldn’t just say that?” She fell into step beside him. “You had to order me to come like your dog?” His forehead creased as if he had no idea what she meant. “Let me clue you in—some folks don’t like being told what to do as if they have no choice. However, if you ask nicely, at least pretend that they have the opportunity to refuse, they might agree with a lot less hassle.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Julian led her toward the center square, which now bustled with noise and activity. Snowmobiles rumbled —she’d yet to see any cars—store bells chimed, voices rose in greeting, to both Julian and Alex. Julian lifted a hand and returned every hello. Alex merely nodded. She wasn’t used to so many people knowing her name. Hell, she wasn’t used to anyone knowing her name.

They passed the café, which didn’t appear to have a name beyond eat—as evidenced by the neon sign in the window. A quick glance inside revealed every table full, with most of the patrons enjoying huge platters of steak and eggs.

“I guess the percentage of heart disease here is pretty damn low,” she muttered.

“There are advantages, Alex.”

“To being an evil killing machine?”

He let out a heavy sigh. “Does anyone you’ve met seem evil? Are there bloody body parts strewn all over? Do you see any intestines strung from the rooftops and severed heads on pikes in the town square?”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t happen.”

“It won’t. We’re different.”

“So you say.”

“So you’ll see.”

As they continued to stroll across town Alex noted that most of the inhabitants made do with a hat, boots, and a flannel shirt against the elements. Alex wasn’t wearing much more than that, either, and she didn’t really mind.

“How cold is it?” she asked, wrapping Ella’s scarf around her ears and neck.

“Not bad today. About five below.”

“And that’s ‘not bad’?”

“It can get to minus fifty some nights.”

She flicked a finger at him. “You wear a coat then?”

“Fur coat.”

Figures.

“Why aren’t I turning blue?” she wondered aloud.

“Another advantage. Increased metabolism, increased body heat. You don’t want to leave your extremities out for too long in this cold, but you aren’t going to need a coat unless the temperature drops another forty degrees.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“There’s someone I want you to meet,” he said.

“I thought I met everyone when we were—” She waved at the town square. “You know.”

His lips quirked. “Naked?”

She wasn’t going to discuss naked with him. Not now. Not ever.

When she didn’t take the bait, he shrugged and his smile faded. “Not everyone runs as a wolf every night.”

“Why not if it’s so fantabulous?” she muttered.

The sudden rev of a motor was followed by the overwhelming scent of exhaust. Julian paused and turned, calmly watching the snowmobile race up the street directly at them.

Alex fought the bizarre urge to step in front of him. Even if the machine hit Barlow head-on, he’d be fine. Since she’d prefer him dead, where on earth had the desire to protect him come from?

You’d think she’d put her head through Ella’s wall instead of her fist the way she was acting.

She needn’t have worried. Whoever was at the controls of the snowmobile stopped a safe distance away, then whipped off the helmet.

Long, flowing, inky black hair cascaded free. Alex couldn’t take her eyes off it; the flow was like a river of ebony. So when the new arrival spoke, she started in surprise and yanked her gaze to the face.

Yep, it was a man all right.

“Ataniq,” he began. “There is trouble in the village.”

Alex wanted to glance at Barlow, but she couldn’t take her eyes from the stranger. He was beautiful.

Obviously one of the original locals—were they still called Eskimos? She didn’t think so, but what they were called she hadn’t a clue—his skin was smooth and dark, that hair belonged on a supermodel, but his eyes —oh brother, those eyes.

They were Barlow’s eyes.

She turned to him with a lifted brow, but he was already throwing his leg over the snowmobile.

“But—” Alex began, and Barlow’s gaze flicked up. From his expression, he’d forgotten she was there.

He cursed, glancing at the sky as if asking for deliverance. What had she done?

Besides killing his wife?

For the first time Alex felt a hint of shame, but she thrust it resolutely away. She’d been a hunter, Alana the hunted. Alex had only done what she’d been told to do.

And, hey, wasn’t that the excuse used at the Nuremberg trials?

Barlow beckoned, and her lips tightened mulishly. The young man’s eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. She was getting really sick of everyone bowing and scraping to the wolf-god, then giving her grief when she wouldn’t.

He pointed to the back of the snowmobile, then flicked his finger at the young man, who attempted to hand her his helmet so fast he dropped it. Alex snatched it out of the air and tried to give it back, but he merely held up his hands in a gesture of surrender and refused to take the thing.

Though the motor rumbled loudly, Alex knew Barlow, with his supersonic ears, would have no trouble hearing her. “Where are you going?”

He jerked his head at the youth. “George said there’s trouble in the village.”

“I thought this was the village.”

“Didn’t you see the other one when we ran past last night?”

Alex remembered the twinkling lights—first up ahead, then to the side as they skirted around it—the village that was more like a town.

“What business is it of yours if another village has trouble?”

Impatience crossed his face. “I don’t have time to explain.” He glanced around as if looking for someone to take her off his hands, then sighed and glanced back. “You’d better come along.”

He shifted forward, making room for her as if her agreement was a given. Though she’d like to say no just to spite him, she had always wanted to ride on a snowmobile.

Alex wound Ella’s scarf around her neck, tying it tightly in place so it wouldn’t fly off; then she slipped the helmet quickly onto her head. Just the few seconds of exposure to the wind made her ears feel brittle enough to fall off. Although why she was worried, she had no idea. She’d just grow another set.

And she’d kind of like to see that—with someone else’s ears.

The instant she was settled, Barlow took off, and Alex would have flipped backward and landed on her head if he hadn’t grabbed her hand and pulled it around his waist.

His stomach muscles flexed, and she had to clench her fingers to keep from stroking them. Unfortunately, a clenched hand did not hold on very well, especially when they hit a rut.

The machine flew up, came down hard. Alex narrowly missed biting her tongue. She grabbed onto Julian’s belt, her thumb sliding beneath his jeans and scraping skin. He straightened so fast his shoulder clocked her in the jaw. If she hadn’t been wearing the helmet, she would have seen stars.