Cursed by the Moon: Wolf River, #2

By Rebekah R. Ganiere

If they can open up their hearts, they could save each other from their pasts.

Noah was bitten by a werewolf in Afghanistan. Now back stateside he finds himself not only with new afflictions and nightmares, but a completely new creature. Noah wants nothing more than to end his pain, when the Night Shift steps in and relocates him to Seattle to build a new life. The problem is, Noah's beautiful new roommate Cara and her friends are what he hates most in the world. Werewolves.

Between being attacked six months prior, and her mother's death, Cara struggles to keep herself together. But when wounded and broken Noah comes into her life she finds safety in his arms and opens herself up for the first time in years to the possibility of healing and moving on.

As Noah and Cara draw closer to finding the love that could heal both their souls, secrets from their pasts threaten to tear them apart. And when those secrets come to light it will take a bond beyond love to keep them together.

Beware: Contains a Hunky Alpha Marine with lots of baggage and a sweet hometown girl afraid to win his heart.

Fans of K.F. Breene, Kelley Armstrong, and Milly Taiden will LOVE the Wolf River Series!

Hurry and Scroll up to One Click this Smoldering Sexy Read Today!

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rebekah R. Ganiere
• Release date: Jul 11, 2016
• ISBN: 9781633000186

Rebekah R. Ganiere

Rebekah is an Award Winning Bestselling Author. Her debut novel Dead Awakenings, hit the bestseller list the first day, in January 2014. Her Fairelle Series, released in May 2014 and has won several awards including the Golden Palm and is currently up for the Rone Award. Her trilogy The Society was released by Kensington in 2014 and her new series Shifter Rising is releasing in 2016 from Samhain Press. Rebekah is currently working on six series in the Fantasy, Paranormal Romance, Urban Fantasy, Sci-fi genres. She has three more books slated to release this year and another five for next year. Rebekah is the VP of Communications of the Romance Writers of America Los Angeles Chapter as well as the Newsletter Editor of the Fantasy, Futuristic, & Paranormal Chapter. In her spare time when she isn't writing you can find her moderating and teaching on SavvyAuthors.com or at RWA. Rebekah also cosplays with her kids and is a guest speaker and panelist at San Diego Comic Con and several other Comic Cons on the west coast as well as LTUE, Romantic Times Convention, and Authors After Dark.

Book preview

Chapter One

Noah tapped himself in the head with the side of his pistol, breaking through the haze of alcohol and making his brain buzz.

How had he gotten to this place? He tried to retrace the last six and a half months of his life that had led him to this moment.

He set the pistol down on the faux wooden nightstand next to the chipped, black lamp. The stench of smoke and sweat permeated the stuffy, cheap motel room. A faded beach scene, in a once gold frame, swam above the ocean blue bed and reminded him of the view from the base in San Diego.

He couldn't change the events that had led to this moment, but what he did now was for the best. Bleary-eyed, he reached for the fifth of tequila that taunted him on the floor, raised it to his lips, and let the liquid burn away all rational thought.

A piece of cardstock with bright red letters, stared at him from the bottom of the bottle. He blinked, trying to clear his sight, and reached for it. Missing, he tried again.

The small business card, with embossed type, scratched his conscience and made his gut twist. All the card held was a phone number, the name Donovan, and the logo for Night Shift Relocation Corp. Images of where he'd gotten the card flashed before him.

Griffin coming to visit him in the hospital. Explaining to him what had happened and what was to come. Handing him the card in case he needed help.

Noah took several large swigs from the bottle, trying to drown out the memories.

The room spun in the shallow lamplight. Empty pizza boxes and fast food wrappers littered the floor; siblings to the empty alcohol bottles. He rubbed his left thigh. After six months of recovery, the ache from the injury that had brought him home from Afghanistan was more a constant companion than enemy to be eradicated.

A military-issue duffle lay open on the opposing, threadbare bed. An array of guns lay lined up in front of it, like small soldiers ready to be called to battle.

He swayed slightly in his chair, then wiped tears from his eyes. Sounds of the television from the room next door whispered through the thin walls.

How had he fallen so far? All he'd done was try to help a stupid dog and bam! He'd become a movie monster, something he'd never thought possible, even in his nightmares.

Images invaded him again.

His unit in the tent relaxing. Pour Some Sugar On Me blaring from the computer. The call of an incoming attack. Adrenaline pumping. Rushing out to secure the area. A large brown dog in the middle of the camp, his deep eyes looking straight at Noah. Jefferson.

Noah sucked in a harsh breath and pushed the dog's face out of his mind. He grabbed the gun again, dropped the card to the carpet and tapped the muzzle against his temple over and over. He couldn't be this thing. It couldn't be him. He could feel his wolf’s trepidation inside, a sensation he still hadn’t gotten used to. He took another swig of alcohol trying to dull the beast back to sleep.

His phone lit up and beeped. Reaching for it, he almost toppled to the floor. The number that blazed across his screen was like a shrapnel shard to the gut.

What do you want? His voice came out hard as iron.

Sarge? It's Jefferson, sir.

Noah gripped the side of his chair so tightly the plastic cracked.

Sergeant, are you there, sir?

You did thissss. Noah's chest tightened and his heartbeat quickened. You turned me into a monster.

I tried to tell you, it isn't like that–

How could you go and join the Marines knowing what you are?

Silence filled the air. Sir, your mom and Brigette have been calling since you were discharged from the VA three weeks ago. They're worried about you.

Well they wouldn’t be if it wasn't for you.

Okay! Jefferson's voice held a note of anger. I get it, sir. I do. I'm sorry. I can't tell you enough how sorry I am. But you have to listen to me, sir. You need to call the number on that card Griffin gave you. If you aren't going to let me help you, you need to get help somewhere. Please Sarge.

Noah closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Jefferson was a stupid eighteen-year-old kid. And though Noah knew he hadn't been malicious in biting him, forgiveness for introducing him to this life of hell, wasn't something he could give. How did you explain to your parents that made-up creatures like werewolves actually existed and now you were one?

Don't worry about it. I know how to handle these kinds of things.

What do you mean?

Noah looked at the gun in his palm.

Sarge, what do you mean? Urgency had crept into the younger man's voice.

Don't worry about me, Jefferson. I know what I need to do.

Sarge? Sergeant! Noah!

Noah turned off the phone and threw it on the bed. Getting to his feet, Noah’s head spun and he grabbed onto the chair for support. The flimsy plastic tipped and Noah's leg gave out. He toppled over, head smacking the cement underneath the thin Berber carpet. Pain shot through his brain, causing him to let out an inhuman roar.

Dammit!

The pain gave him a sudden jolt of clarity. He was lucky the weapon hadn't discharged into the wall. The last thing he needed was the cops showing up.

Noah dragged himself to his knees, looking around through cloud- fogged vision for the gun. The business card stuck to his palm and he crushed it.

He located the gun under the overturned chair, picked it up, and flopped onto the bed. He'd felt the moon’s grip on him growing tighter the closer it got- and tomorrow he would be helpless against its will. The smells, the achy muscles; he couldn't do it. He couldn't be what Jefferson was. What Griffin was.

It was bad enough he'd been relieved of duty and shipped back stateside. How could he spend the rest of his life wondering if he would hurt or kill someone once a month? He'd been able to keep himself in check so far, because of the knockout drugs, but how long could that last? Until he hurt someone? Bit someone? Killed someone?

How could he have a family? A home? Children? He couldn't do it. He wouldn't. He was better off not even existing.

Noah raised the gun to his temple a third time but his phone beeped again and he grabbed it without thinking.

Hello?

Sergeant Davis? The voice was soft but commanding.

Who is this?

This is First Lieutenant Tate Wildred. I’m a friend of Griffin and Jefferson. You got our card. Jefferson said you might need some help.

Noah shook his head. No one can help me.

Not true, Sergeant. We can help you. I'm with a group called The Night Shift and we do exactly what you need.

Noah tapped the gun on his forehead and sucked in a ragged breath. Sergeant. You need help.

He sniffed once. Nope. I'm good, First Lieutenant.

Then why don't we meet for a drink. There's a bar not far from where you're staying. I can be there in a few hours.

No need. By tomorrow it'll all be a distant memory.

There was a muffled sound on the other end of the phone.

Sergeant Davis. His name was barked not spoken. This is Colonel Donovan Franks.

The man from the card. He hadn't meant to say the words out loud. Sergeant, you listening to me? It wasn't a question so much as an order.

Yes.

What did you say to me, maggot?

Noah tried to clear his head. Sir, yes, sir.

You listen up, Marine. You have a duty and just because you're home doesn't mean you get to absolve yourself of being a Marine.

No, sir. The words came out slurred, jabbing at his pride.

Pull your crap together. Get yourself to bed and meet First Lieutenant Wildred tomorrow morning at o-nine-hundred. Do you understand me?

Noah sat up and straightened his shoulders. Yes, sir.

And if you ever need anything, and I mean anything, you call my number, understand? His gruff, smoke-stained voice gentled a bit.

Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.

The line went dead. Noah's fingers shook and his hand wobbled. He glanced at the almost empty bottle next to his feet. Drinking anymore would just make it worse.

Tears leaked from his eyes once more and he squeezed the warm metal that still lay in his palm. He opened his eyes and stared at it. He'd been given an order. He'd never disobeyed an order in his entire career. But he wasn't a Marine anymore. And he didn't have to follow orders.

Noah closed his eyes while his mind was filled with visions of his parents and Brigette. He was doing this for them. They'd never understand that he wasn't the guy they'd known. Not anymore. And he never would be again. Not after what he'd been through. Not after what he’d become. A Bitten werewolf.

A tear streaked down his cheek and he stared at the cream envelopes, lined up next to the pillow, on the bed. One for his mother. One for his father. And one for Brigette.

Forgive me.

Chapter Two

Cara pushed her hair behind her ear and picked up the tray laden with sandwiches and coffee. Hefting it over her shoulder, she headed for the table in the corner. Waitressing wasn't her usual job, but they were short at the coffee shop during the summer session, and her class load was light–ish.

As she set the plates down, the hairs on her neck prickled and she whipped around, heart quickening. Liam stood in the shop entrance in his signature black leather jacket, low slung jeans and boots, his arm around his mate, the petite blonde beauty Natasha.

Damn. When was she going to stop being so jumpy? She swallowed hard. It'd been almost six months since being attacked and tied up by Natasha's ex-boyfriend, Daniel, and his buddies, yet Cara still couldn't come or go without locking the door twice.

Cara relaxed at the sight of them. She missed having a roomie now that Natasha had moved in with Liam.

Hey. She dropped the empty tray on the counter and headed toward them.

Natasha stepped forward and hugged her; Liam gave her a tight-lipped smile but his shoulders held tension.

Hey, Chica, said Natasha. How are ya?

Good. You guys want a table? Cara pointed to one in the corner.

You got a minute to sit? Liam's eyes were serious. Natasha took his hand in hers and leaned into him.

A shiver ran down Cara's spine. Um… She looked around. No one seemed to need her at the moment. Sure.

She followed them to the table. What's goin' on?

Liam settled uncomfortably into his chair. His long legs tucked underneath and his hands fisted on the table until his knuckles paled. I got a call from Tate.

Cara swallowed hard. Is something wrong? Her wolf’s uncertainty rolled over Cara and she swallowed hard trying to calm herself. It was a strange sensation since her wolf had barely been present since Natasha had given her the wolfsbane bracelet.

Liam shook his head. Nothing's wrong per se. But I have someone who needs relocating and I don't have anywhere else to put 'em on such short notice.

Well there's room with me, you know that.

Liam's gaze drifted to Natasha. Yeah, but this one is male.

Cara shrugged. I put up with you.

Natasha slid her hand across the table and squeezed Cara's hand tight. He’s a friend of my cousin Griffin’s. A buddy from overseas. Thing is… he was bitten.

Cara swallowed hard. A cold chill ran over her skin. Her wolf’s agitation grew which made Cara even more jumpy. Unlike Blood Born wolves, Bitten shifters couldn’t communicate with their inner wolves, only feel what they felt.

He's also new, said Liam. Only six months in. He was bitten in Afghanistan by a fellow Marine. He's been having a very difficult time of it. It's possible he has some PTSD. He’s been home for months and in therapy, but he’s not completely better.

Cara's head grew fuzzy, and she sucked air in and out in short, shallow breaths. Her gaze traveled to her hand interlocked with Natasha's and she tried to remain in the present. She refused to let the memories and guilt sweep over her and drag her down into their bottomless depths. She’d worked too hard to put the past behind her over the past four years. She wasn’t about to let it compound her more pressing issues.

It's okay, Natasha said. We can find him another place. Maybe he can stay with us for a few days.

A dark look came over Liam's features. An unknown male in his house, with Natasha there, was not going to fly. Alphas didn't share space with males outside their immediate family.

I'm not going to pressure you into doing something you don't want, said Liam. I can tell Tate you aren't ready yet.

No. Cara shook her head. The male needed help and this was the next step in getting over what had happened to her. Besides, Tate and Liam had helped her when she'd needed it, and she'd agreed to help others in return. I can do it. It's fine.

Are you sure? Natasha asked. You know Griffin would never do anything to put you in danger, but if this is too much…

Cara nodded vigorously and put on a smile so broad she worried