Luna Proxy #3 (Werewolf Shifter Romance): Luna Proxy, #3

By Mac Flynn

A new world awaits Leila Ulric as she travels away from the city of her birth and into the wilderness.  At her side is Vincent, a man with amnesia who is an enigma to her.  The gray werewolf and Vincent have never appeared together, but doubts gnaw at her mind.  She can't imagine a less suited werewolf than the man who leads her onward towards a destination even he doesn't know.  Their journey takes them to the abode of an old woman who offers them sanctuary and food.  The stranger's inquiries into their affairs catch Leila's attention and suspicion.  Together Vincent and she find a hidden truth in their kind new acquaintance, and a hidden truth in themselves.

The Luna Proxy series is an episodic serial where each book contains a conclusive story within an over-arching tale.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Crescent Moon Studios, Inc.
• Release date: May 3, 2016
• ISBN: 9781533759849

Mac Flynn

A seductress of sensual words and a lover of paranormal plots, Flynn enjoys writing thrilling paranormal stories filled with naughty fun and hilarious hijinks. She is the author of numerous paranormal series that weave suspense, adventure and a good joke into a one-of-a-kind experience that readers are guaranteed to enjoy. From long adventure novels to tasty little short-story treats, there's a size and adventure for everyone.Want to know when her next series comes out? Join The Flynn newsletter and be the first to know! macflynn.com/newsletter/Also check out her website at macflynn.com for listings and excerpts of all of her books!

Book preview

1

It seemed like the very world was against us. We left the life I had far behind and came into a forest of half-truths and lies. Large pine trees swelled from the ground and towered over us. We followed a path that seemingly went on forever, or could if we could see farther than five yards in front of us. The storm clouds over us were black and angry. Travel was hard for the rain pelted our heads and shoulders. Streams of water flowed down my coat and soaked into my pants. My only comfort was the cool rain soothed my sore fingers.

Why did I ever agree to this? I muttered.

Vincent glanced over his shoulder. You say something? he yelled above the torrential downpour.

I shook my head. It’s nothing.

What?

I said it’s nothing!

Oh. Okay. . .

I glared at the back of this meek man. My mind couldn’t grasp that he was the monster I’d seen in the city. Without hesitation, that horrible creature had torn Pararius’ throat apart. I lowered my head and shuddered. Those white-gray eyes. I couldn’t get them out of my thoughts, nor even my dreams.

I found myself staring at Vincent’s back. Perhaps he didn’t hold the answers I sought.

Look, Leila, Vincent spoke up.

I raised my head and the downpour slapped its cold, wet children against my face. Vincent stood two yards ahead and was half-turned to me. He stretched out his arm and pointed to an open spot in the path some ten yards ahead. The fathomless darkness of a cave stood out from the rest of the night.

We might stay in there for a while, he suggested.

Anywhere is better than staying out here, I agreed.

We hurried through the muck. My foot slipped on a partially exposed rock and I fell face-first into the mud. Strong arms wrapped around me and helped me to my feet.

You okay? he asked me.

I nodded. Yeah, but I’ll be better when we get in there.

Come on. I’ll help you, he offered.

We had gone two steps when he found another slippery rock. His arms around me forced me to the ground. My only saving grace was he ended up at the bottom of our little pile on his back. I found myself atop him with my legs straddled on either side of him. Those bright emerald eyes faced me. Rain ran down my neck and hair, and dripped onto him.

Vincent sheepishly grinned at me. Maybe I’m the one who needs help.

In more ways than one, I quipped.

I climbed to my feet and helped him up. We sloshed our way carefully up the rest of the path and slipped into the dry mouth of the cave. The floor was littered with leaves, needles and bits of stick. I stepped forward and squinted my eyes at the back of the cave. The depth stretched on into oblivion. A cave without end.

Vincent stooped and grabbed some small rocks. I think I can make a fire out of this, and we can cook the beans.

Sounds good, I agreed.

I gathered sticks and kindling as he created a round circle of small and large stones. Within half an hour we had a warm fire. The third of our six cans of beans sat on a flat rock and boiled in its own juices. Vincent and I sat on the ground, I on the old blanket and he on the ground.

You’re not too bad at it, I commented.

He leaned back and sheepishly smiled. Thanks.

Do you remember anything else that would involve practice? I asked him.

He shrugged. It’s not really that I remember making fires. It’s just-well, it just feels like habit. Like I’ve done it so often I could do it in my sleep.

Of course. Anything else would help. . . I muttered. I glanced at the entrance. The rain interrupted the otherwise still darkness. I wonder how long it’ll last. . . I thought aloud.

Probably a few days, Vincent commented.

More habit? I asked him.

He shook his head. No, just a feeling.

I stood and carefully stripped off my coat. Water dripped from the edges. A firm crack of the cloth and water sprayed everywhere. The droplets hissed on the warm rocks and fire. Vincent raised his arm to shield his face.

Hey, be careful with that, he whined.

I stooped and lay the coat near the fire. You should worry about yourself. That coat of yours doesn’t look any better than mine.

Vincent glanced down at his overcoat. Actually, it’s pretty dry on the inside.

You’ve gotta be cold without a shirt, I persisted.

He shrugged. Yeah, a little, I guess.

I glanced out the mouth of the cave. So does any of this seem familiar?

He followed my gaze and shook his head. No.

My shoulders drooped. Then how do you know this is where you should go?

Vincent looked into the fire and shrugged. I just do. His eyes flickered to the can. I hope there’s a town soon, or we’ll have to worry about food.

Let me guess. You don’t know that, either? I asked him.

Not a clue, he confirmed.

The can of beans reminded us of its existence. Its juice bubbled