Hungry Moon-Destiny

By Claudy Conn

A hybrid and a wolf shifter join forces across time, across miles
against a threat of unthinkable proportions.

Luke tells Kelsey she isn’t his type, but who is he trying to
convince—her or himself?

As for Kelsey, she has to admit the hybrid definitely makes her heart
flutter and her knees weak, but she knows better than to get involved
with a heart-breaker. And she is sure Luke is a heart-breaker.

Besides, they’ve got other problems on their hands as they join a team
of otherworldly beings working together to fight the Purple Haze. Will
their power be enough against the arcane threat?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Claudy Conn
• Release date: Feb 21, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310535475

Claudy Conn

New York Times and USA Today bestselling author, Claudy Conn is a multi published author who got her start with her bestselling historical/regency romances.She tells us that she fell in love with the fantasy/paranormal genre and created a world of paranormal.She hopes you will read and enjoy and join her on her facebook where she loves to interact with her readers.page.http://www.facebook.com/pages/Claudy-Conn-Paranormal-Romance-Author/135826686471445

Book preview

Hungry Moon: Destiny

Books by Claudy Conn

available at smashwords.com

Hungry Moon Series

Hungry Moon: Quicksilver

Hungry Moon: Destiny

Hungry Moon: Jodi

~

Through Time Series

Through Time—Pursuit

Through Time—Whiplash

Through Time—Slamming

Through Time—Frankie

Through Time—Compulsion

~

Legend Series

Spellbound—Legend

Shee Willow—Legend

Prince in the Mist (Novella)

Prince Prelude—Legend

Aaibhe—Shee Queen (Novelette)

Trapped—Legend

Free Falling—Legend

Catch & Hold—Legend

~

Shadow Series

ShadowLove—Stalkers

ShadowHeart—Slayer

ShadowLife—Hybrid

~

Witches, Warlocks, and Dark Magic

Dark Love

Netherby Halls

Lady X

Journey

Journey: The Reckoning

~

Risqué Regencies

Myriah Fire

Oh, Cherry Ripe

Rogues, Rakes & Jewels

Taffeta and Hotspur

Wildfire Kiss

After the Storm

Runaway Heart

Lady Bess

Lady Star

Serena

Mandy

Disorderly Lady

Madcap Miss

Courting Kit

~

Multi-book Bundles

The Complete Legend Series

Through Time Series Box Set

Claudy Conn’s Bestselling Regencies

Hungry Moon:

Destiny

By

Claudy Conn

Copyright Page

Hungry Moon: Destiny

By Claudy Conn

http://www.claudyconn.com

Copyright © 2014, 2015 by Claudy Conn

First edition edited by: Kathy Riehl

Second edition edited by: Karen Babcock

Cover Artist: Kendra Egert

All rights reserved

Published in the United States of America

Smashwords Editions

First edition, February 2014

Second edition, November 2015

Excerpt of Hungry Moon: Jodi

Copyright © 2015 by Claudy Conn

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Names, characters, and events depicted in this book are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author.

Contents

Hungry Moon: Destiny

Copyright

Prelude

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Epilogue

Excerpt: Hungry Moon: Jodi

Chapter One

About Claudy Conn

More about Claudy Conn’s Books

~ Prelude ~

* * *

The Prophecy

Translated from the ancient language of Danu

Rampage—blood, thirteen beating hearts

Savagery, death, blasphemy, dark art

The werewolf has come

Surging Purple Haze, taking till it is done,

Blanketing, darkening, extinguishing the sun

Living die, dead rise, roaming far And near

Black Magic, domination and fear

Wickedness and power merge

Sucking life as it breathes, horror—scourge

Tainted blood will run

If she survives, she will be the One

* * *

ANDREW MACPOOLE STOOD on Fifth Avenue and stared at the passing traffic. He listened to the taxi drivers cursing pedestrians who cut them off as they hurried to cross the street. It was exciting—he could feel frenzy and violence in the atmosphere, and he loved it. He crossed with other pedestrians, and a small smirk crooked his lips as he left his hotel, The Plaza, at his back.

No one that looked at him knew what he had done.

They didn’t know, as they scurried along, who he was and what he was capable of. How could they? Only a short three weeks ago, even he hadn’t known what he would become or what he would do.

As he walked toward his destination downtown—the place he’d selected for his third kill—he relived the moment it had all changed for him. He had just returned from the Desert Realm, where he thought he would find the answers he needed.

As he recalled that moment, he fisted his hands and started for the curb to hail a taxi. Someone bumped into him, and he shoved them back, hard.

It was a woman. She fell backward, crying out, and people rushed to help her. His eyes narrowed. People were such weaklings. He got into the cab that had pulled up and gave the driver the address before he sat back and returned to his memories.

It had started out with him thinking he had been robbed, duped into buying an Orb that had not worked. He had been led to believe the Orb of Talon would open a portal to Lyken, but it hadn’t, and with that realization another piece of his mind drifted toward the madness he had worked so hard to keep at bay. He needed to stop the disease before it consumed him. He would stop it.

The thought that he would turn out like his father and grandfather released his wolf, and for a few moments he bayed and howled at the dark and moonless sky. He was filled with misery as he stood alone, leaning against the railing of his balcony overlooking the Italian harbor. Once again he lifted his head and howled.

His yacht rocked gently, and he imagined those on shore stopping to listen to the unfamiliar sound of a wolf’s howl. The notion that he might have inspired fear and misgivings in some of the residents changed his mood and made him smirk. Still, he was torn with the need to kill and even thought of slinking into the harbor village to find an unsuspecting victim, but he decided against it. That way led to blood obsession, and he finally had that under control.

Thinking of that now—now that he had been drawn into the blood obsession—he wondered why he had restrained himself.

He could still remember the desire and how it had made his fangs drip saliva. He had been so strong. He was still strong, and now his killing was for a reason.

He couldn’t sit still in the cab. He paid the driver, got out, and breathed in the city air before he began walking again.

In the past killing had always been for pleasure, but things had changed. He stood for a moment, panting as he thought of ripping a creature apart and gouging out its entrails.

He remembered how his yellow eyes had found the mirror across the wide stateroom in his yacht. He had stared hard at the red aura that hung around the image staring back at him. Such a short while ago …

He stopped now, looked at himself in a storefront window. He was stone cold—a killer without remorse. And he liked himself.

He was a handsome man. He adjusted the collar of his blue silk shirt and smoothed his blonde hair away from his face. He was proud of his height and his build, which was trim yet muscular. Indeed, most thought him a charismatic man. He seldom had any problems getting a woman into his bed … until Ravena.

Her memory made him scowl and returned his attention to the avenue.

He knew what he had to do. Damn. He could feel his tongue lapping at the corner of his mouth—the way it had that night back on his yacht.

He had been concerned and determined not to allow the bloodlust to reduce who he was. He would not go mad. He would remain in human form for as long as he could, for it staved off the hunger and perhaps the insanity. Even now, when he killed he tried to remain in human form so he wouldn’t lose himself to the rabid wolf clawing inside him.

He had to get to Lyken soon. He had to find the cure. He was one hundred percent certain there was a cure. He knew it had been denied to his grandfather for political reasons. The Lyken Council had wanted to usurp his grandfather’s power, and thus the evil beasts had allowed the disease to take him over so that they could banish him. His grandfather, who had been a royal, had been betrayed. He knew the story as though he had lived it. He knew because he had studied the ancient text his grandfather had left to his father. Now it belonged to him. He was the last of his line.

That night … not so long ago, he had thought he would never find what he needed to transport him to Lyken. He had returned from the Desert Realm feeling defeated. Then, unexpectedly, everything was altered.

Lyken was no longer a dream. It was about to become a reality. He would save himself, and he would become the king he had always known himself to be: King of Lyken.

His yacht, The Craven, had been anchored in Portofino Harbor. He wondered if it was time, perhaps, to move some place different. Maybe he needed to travel elsewhere to find the artifact. A steward approached him, and for a moment he was nearly overwhelmed by the thought of tasting the young man’s blood. The youngster stood there, hesitating, bowing, and looking frightened before he finally said, I am sorry, sir, but …

Yes. What the bloody hell do you want?

The boy said, There is a lady … young and quite beautiful. She says she must speak with you.

I don’t need another lady right now. To his surprise, it was true. His desires would not be assuaged with sex.

I told her to leave, but she won’t. She says that she has something that would please you.

Andrew nearly demanded the steward send her away, but on a whim he decided to allow her to come to his stateroom with her proposition.

As soon as he saw her, he knew she was a werewolf. She produced a drawing of an ancient artifact from the large canvas bag she carried and asked him, Isn’t this what you’ve been looking for?

The young female werewolf then told him she didn’t have the artifact with her, but she could take him to it. She asked for a fair trade: cash for the ancient Relic if it turned out to be the artifact he sought. He hadn’t known why, but every instinct told him that this time it would be that which he sought. The scent of the Relic hung heavily around her; she had handled the artifact, and he could smell it. In fact, the scent was already making him frenzied.

He went with her in his own small speedboat, with hers in tow, and they took his car, which was parked in the harbor. They made their way up the mountainside to a small cottage just outside the village. Once inside the cottage, the young woman retrieved a box from a closet, turned, and presented him with an engraved bronze container.

When he held it, his body pulsated from its power. He had known at once that this was what he needed to get him to Lyken and his destiny.

His body trembled, reacting to its mana. This was the Fae artifact he had been searching for all his adult life. The ancient Hallow was now his. With it, he would wield such power, and with that thought, a rush of excitement swept through him.

He stared at it. The bronze container filled him with lust, as though it were a beautiful woman. He studied its five-pointed-star shape and the etchings that covered it. This Hallow could open a portal and take him to the land of his mad grandfather and to the Council that had betrayed him. He was a descendant of royalty, and they had stolen that from him.

This artifact was his only hope.

He would travel to Lyken. He would take his citizens to new heights and be their savior.

He knew that the madness was much like what dogs suffered when they contracted rabies. He was certain that there was a vaccine and a cure. He knew they had it there, knew he had to get it in Lyken because it was derived from a plant native only to that Realm.

Lately the madness seemed to hover ever closer. He couldn’t let it devour him; he simply couldn’t. He wanted a life, his life, at any cost.

He was determined to keep it at bay and do anything he had to do to get to Lyken and find the plant he sought. His grandfather had refused to believe that he was going insane and had not sought help in time, but Andrew knew better.

He could have allowed the young female to live, but as he looked at her he decided she might end up a ‘loose link’ he didn’t want around. So, even as he handed over the hefty envelope of cash, his claws snapped out. In one, fluid motion he ripped out her throat.

He told himself he had been merciful and quick about it. He was, after all, not a monster. He had simply decided it would be better with her dead. Now no one could question the woman about the artifact’s theft from the dig site and track it to him.

He returned with the ancient Relic to his yacht and began trying to unlock its secrets. Hours turned night into day, but he got no closer. Then suddenly, in a fit of frustration, he cursed in ancient Gaelic, for Andrew’s tongue, like him, dated back a few centuries.

Och! Why won’t my magic open you? Then he said in arcane Danu, "Duine a chur."

His grandfather had been acquainted with only a few Danu phrases. This had been one he had passed on. In the old language of the Fae, he had asked to cast a spell.

The Hallow spoke in a neutral-gendered voice. I, that am eternal, have been found by one who knows my original tongue, the tongue of the Dark King who created me.

Unseelie? I would never have guessed that.

The Dark King is not Unseelie. We are Seelie. The Dark King has always been a Royal Seelie Fae. His bestial creations are Unseelie and damned. The voice paused and then said in a tone that clearly objected, Ah, but you are not a Fae.

And still, I command you, Andrew bluffed. I am an immortal, and you will do as I bid.

Silence had been thick in the air, so thick that Andrew thought he had lost his chance, but finally the Hallow said, Truth remains, and truth governs all. Baudali, the sorcerer who altered my purpose with his black magic, has left me a burden to pass on.

And what might that be? Andrew asked anxiously. This was not what he had expected—this was not what he wanted. Would this Hallow take him to Lyken?

To use my power, you must do the unspeakable. It was foretold that an immortal would come and agree to do this. I thought that one would be an Unseelie Fae. It pains me to give you the key, but Baudali instilled the instructions in me, and I must obey. He said one that was desperate, an immortal, would come, and then he was gone.

Did he die?

Everyone thought so. They believed he had been slain, but they underestimated him. He had foreseen trouble for himself and created an escape route. Not for his body, only for his essence, what some refer to as a soul. He altered his soul, and when his body was dead, his essence was sent to another Realm, where it awaits the chance to return.

Right, okay, don’t much care. Andrew shrugged this off. As long as I get what I want.

"You should care. You should not wish to release him. In the end what you want, what you think you might attain … will not be what it seems."

Don’t talk in riddles to me. I know one thing, I need one thing—a portal to Lyken. So tell me, what do I need to do to open the portal to my home, to Lyken? I have to get there and find the cure. I will do anything for that.

I can open a portal to Lyken. I can give you power, but madness no one can cure—

You’re wrong! Madness for werewolves is not the same as madness for Fae. I can fix it. I know there is a plant on Lyken, a plant that will cure the disease before it grows stronger. I have to get there, and when I do, I want to be able to use the power that is yours to give, Andrew growled and felt his wolf start to rise.

I do not freely offer it. Therefore, you will never really possess it. I am a Fae Hallow and although altered by a Dark wizard, I remain a Fae Hallow. The longer I am free to evolve, the further I grow away from you and the Dark wizard.

But for now, you must obey. Isn’t that right?

Yes, for now. I can get you to Lyken, and I can give you more power than you presently own, and that power may be more than you can wield. Do you still wish to move forward? the Hallow sounded immeasurably sad.

The steps, Hallow—tell me what I must do. Andrew was irritated and hungry. Lately, his wolf seemed to be ever ready to take over the human in him. He took several deep breaths, and it worked to settle and quiet it.

The first step requires you to slaughter thirteen human women. You must take the heart of each and deposit them in the Box of Dreams before you can travel into the Second Realm. In the Second Realm those hearts will be taken from you by the sorcerer Baudali. These instructions beat at my core. Killing is not what I was created for.

Why doesn’t Baudali come for the hearts himself? Andrew asked.

You don’t see, do you? You may be immortal, but you are short-sighted, the Hallow replied, this time sounding haughty. Baudali needs the hearts to materialize. Once this has been done, you will no longer be your own person. In truth, you will be working for him. You will be his slave. He has what you want, and you have the freedom to give him what he needs. You think he will allow you to go to Lyken, but I warn you, nothing is what it seems.

So, an unholy partnership awaits, Andrew mused thoughtfully. Do you have the power to grant me a portal to Lyken?

I do, but he will have the power to stop you from entering the portal. The Hallow sounded grim.

Let him try.

He will make of you a slave.

Never going to happen. I am more than just a werewolf. I have Dark powers, and he wasn’t expecting that, was he? I am not one to take orders, Andrew snapped. "Tell me, what do you get out of this, Hallow?"

"Freedom. When you have completed the tasks Baudali sets out for you, I shall be returned to Tir, the land of the Fae, and restored to my former self."

But you said you could do that on your own. Andrew frowned. And if you don’t trust him, then how do you know he will give you your freedom?

"Yes, I could do it over time—much time. I have no wish to obey the evil wizard. I do have a choice, but my choice is immediate freedom, and at least at the end of this despicable chore I shall be free, for the spell will be broken. He tied it all into the spell. I deliver … and I am free. It is not so for you."

No. I shall protect myself. What precisely happens after I get to the Second Realm and give him the thirteen hearts?

You will then be given your instructions for step two.

How do I know this isn’t all a trick?

"You don’t, but you know that Fae Relics evolve. We are, in a sense, living beings. Given that, you must also know that it pains me to work for a sorcerer. It pains me even more to work for a werewolf with Dark tendencies. I wish to return to my Seelie Fae home even more than you wish to return to yours."

Andrew heard the truth in this. Right, then, so you send me off with the hearts and then …

"Ah, yes, after you have slaughtered your prey—thinking, living beings, the killing of whom I find most despicable—you will collect each heart one by one in this …"

Another bronze container, this one engraved with gold etchings, appeared and hung in the air before him. The Hallow said, Take it.

So I put the hearts in this? he murmured as he reached for the bronze box with both hands.

Indeed. They will be preserved within its magical housing. Once you have given it over to Baudali, you will be given further instructions.

So, I get the hearts, put them in the container, and when I have all thirteen—then what?

As I said, I will send you with your dastardly offerings to Baudali in the Second Realm and open the portal to Lyken.

Lyken—ah, the Hallow would open the portal to his home. Could he kill so many and take their hearts? Could he kill thirteen young women? Hell, yes. He was a werewolf, and killing was in his blood. He owned the Dark Gypsy Magic his mother had taught him. He liked to kill, but he didn’t like the idea of working with some half-dead sorcerer who meant to enslave him. He would have to find a spell to protect himself from Baudali.

He would have to think ahead and be very careful.

He wasn’t quite sure this Hallow wouldn’t trick him for its own purposes. He had heard of such things. Fae Relics were unpredictable, and he had to avoid falling into a trap at all cost.

He knew that soon after he arrived in Lyken, he had to be free of the disease, for the Council would smell a rabid wolf at once and declare him insane if they got the chance. He had to maintain his mind with placid calmness and with pleasures, many pleasures.

Now, he said. Show me Lyken. Show me my world. I want to see where I truly belong.

The Hallow began to glow, and what looked like a snow globe, five feet in diameter, formed before him. He saw a world of werewolves, some in human form, some happily going about their business in their wolf form. He felt a glorious sensation take him over.

He witnessed the Council conducting a meeting within the Lyken Palace. He watched his fellow weres go about their daily lives. They were like him. He would be amongst his own kind, though of course he would be above them all. He would be a royal.

He looked into a world that was ordered and beautiful, rich in green landscaping. He saw that night was falling. In its sky three moons circled. Here was a world where he would be among his own kind, no longer different than all the rest.

He could almost smell and taste it. Then, all at once, he saw a ravishing creature. She wasn’t a werewolf; she was a shapeshifter.

Her long hair was flame-lit auburn. Her eyes were blue with yellow centers, ever ready to turn golden with her wolf. She stood in Lyken, but she did not belong there. Who was she?

Her body was sensuous and inviting, and he licked his lips with desire. What was she doing there?

What do I see?

The time and place you will enter Lyken in the future … your future … and the prophecy will begin.

He breathed hard and said, Who is she? Who is that shapeshifter?

Ah, she is in your future, the Hallow answered vaguely.

In my future? Andrew said, and his lip curled. Is she? Yes, yes, I feel it. She will be mine. One day he would look back at all the things he had done to get to where he was going. It would be worth it. All of it would be worth it.

I did not quite say that. The Hallow was scarcely audible.

He held the Hallow up to the light from his porthole as the rolling waves gently rocked his seventy-foot yacht in the Mediterranean.