Lori Handeland - Marked by the Moon

Rose laughed. “Barlowsville is the same as any other city in the Arctic. Coffee shop that serves the same food as a thousand other coffee shops. Movie theater that shows the same movies they show at any other theater in Alaska. Bookstore with the same books. Shoe shop. Grocery store.”

“Big white laboratory with your own resident Dr. Frankenstein,” Alex continued. “Lord of the Wolves telling everyone where to go and what to do. And your own personal blood bank of Inuit.”

Rose’s eyes widened. Alex wanted to bite off her tongue. Why not? It would grow back.

“Julian really must trust you,” she said.

Alex moved back to the counter and began to unload her very full tray in front of the single customer that remained from the breakfast rush. She glanced at the clock. She had maybe half an hour before the lunch crowd descended.

She smiled at the young woman, who could have been the local schoolteacher if there’d been a school. “Anything else?”

Mouth already full of scrambled eggs, she shook her head, and Alex turned back to Rose. “Why would you say that?”

“You’ve been here what? A day? And you’ve already met Cade; you know what he does. Not to mention the village.” Rose peered into her face as if she might discover all of Alex’s secrets. “New wolves don’t usually learn about the Inuit until after the first full moon.”

Alex wasn’t going to admit how she’d discovered Cade, or why Julian had taken her to Awanitok. But she wasn’t sure what she should say instead, so she said nothing.

“And now with all the trouble over there—”

“You know about that?”

“Not much stays secret around here.”

Alex hoped that wasn’t true.

“Any idea who’s gone rogue?” Alex asked.

“No one in this village!” Rose put her hand over her ample bosom. “We would never hurt anyone.”

Rose obviously believed that, as did the rest of the café. Everyone in the restaurant was bobbing their head in agreement. They’d been listening in. Considering their werewolf ears, it was hard not to.

Rose nibbled her lower lip. “Julian hasn’t brought home a new wolf since—” She broke off.

“Alana. I know.”

Rose’s eyes widened even farther. “You won’t hurt him, will you?”

“Hurt? Him?” Alex thought he’d be more likely to kill her. But she decided to keep that to herself.

Rose lifted one shoulder. “He’s our alpha. I don’t know what we’d do without him.”

“Anything you wanted,” Alex muttered.

Rose tilted her head. “You don’t seem to like him.”

“What’s to like? He’s an arrogant, domineering control freak.”

Rose’s lips curved. “We are what we were when we were made.” At Alex’s confused expression, she continued, “He was a Viking. Becoming a werewolf didn’t change that.”

“Becoming a werewolf changes everything,” Alex said.

“Yes and no. At least for wolves like us. Certainly there are lifestyle changes.” She tapped one ear. “No more silver hoops. Can’t make any plans for one night out of twenty-eight. But when we become one of Julian’s wolves, we retain who we were. Haven’t you?”

Alex nodded absently. She had. She couldn’t argue. But Rose’s explanation had given her an idea.

“So Barlow is a dick because he was a Viking, and Daniel was, is, and always will be gay, just like Josh.”

“And Joe will always love music and people and food, and I will always love Joe,” Rose said.

“What if you were a killer when you were made?” Alex asked. “What then?”

Rose, who’d been smiling at Alex as if she were the smartest kid in this year’s kindergarten class, froze. “I —uh—what?”

“If fabulous human beings become fan-damn-tastic werewolves, then it follows that a psychotic killer as a human would become an equally psychotic killer as a werewolf.”

“I suppose,” Rose agreed. “But Julian would never allow someone like that to become one of us.”

Alex glanced out the front window as a cloud danced over the sun. “What if he didn’t know?”

Julian was so furious when he came into the house that he took one look at the empty fireplace, absently thought about building a fire, and kaboom—he had one.

Flames shot up the chimney with such force he was concerned he might set the roof ablaze. As it was he singed the arm of a chair that he’d placed a little too close to survive spontaneous combustion.

“Faet!” he muttered, then closed his eyes and recalled how he’d pressed a kiss to Alex’s head and murmured shh . The image caused a fresh burst of fury, allowing him to put out the fire without having to climb onto the roof or even step a single foot into the living room.

Then he strode through his house, tossed off his clothes, turned the shower to Arctic, and stepped right in. He hadn’t made a mistake like that with his magic since…

Julian yanked his head from beneath the frigid stream. He hadn’t made a mistake like that with his magic since he’d discovered it.

Alex took over his mind, his body, his emotions. He had a hard time controlling himself in any way when she was near. Which, if he wasn’t careful, was going to lead to a lot more serious mistakes than starting a wildfire in his fireplace.

How long was he going to be able to stand having her in town? How long before he did something he really regretted like—

“Like what?” he muttered. “You’ve already slept with her. What else is there?”

Shh. His own voice drifted through his mind, followed by that image of himself kissing her hair, holding her close.

The jittery roll in his gut reminded him that there were a lot worse things than sleeping with the enemy.

Julian shut off the water and heaved a relieved sigh. He might live in the Arctic, he might be a Viking by birth, but no man enjoyed ice on his genitals for very long.

Julian donned a fresh pair of jeans and a minnesota vikings sweatshirt that someone had given him for Christmas as a joke—really, who wore purple and yellow on purpose—and stepped onto the porch.

His snowmobile sat at the north end of the house. Minutes later he raced toward Awanitok where Jorund the younger told him what had happened to Dr. Cosgrove.

“When he didn’t come to work, his assistant went to the house. She found him—” The old man sighed. “— or what was left of him in the backyard.”

“The first body was discovered several yards outside of town,” Julian clarified, and Jorund nodded.

Which meant the rogue was becoming bolder.

“No one saw anything this time?”

“No, Ataniq. ”

The two of them stared down at the bloody blotch in the snow. There were no tracks. The snow was like ice. A common problem around here.

“Order everyone to stay inside after dark,” Julian said.

“There is a lot of dark at this time of year.”

“Then there will be a lot of staying inside until this is over,” Julian snapped, and went home.

Ella stood on his porch wearing a concerned expression. “Have you seen Alex?” she asked.

He’d thought she would go back to Ella’s that morning, but if she hadn’t…maybe she’d stayed with Cade just to piss him off.

Julian’s blood pressure rose at the idea of what else she could do with Cade that would piss him off. “She wouldn’t dare,” he muttered.

“Dare what?” Ella tilted her head. “Your face is getting red.”

Julian imagined steam coming out of his ears. Big mistake because the next thing Ella said was: “There’s steam coming out of your ears.”

If he wasn’t careful he was going to melt his brain into gruel.

“Faet!” Julian said. “Faet. Faet. Faet.” Anything to keep himself from imagining something he might not be able to recover from.