Secrets of the Moon: Chronicles of the Lost Child, #1

By Kristy Centeno

Two brothers. One destiny. A family secret that can unleash a pandora's box in a small town already plagued with mysterious disappearances.
Teenager Marjorie Emery eluded death. For thirteen months she's struggled to get her life back on track and repair the broken relationships left splintered after the car accident that upended her world. However, the sudden appearance of a gloomy hottie with eyes the color of the moon forces her into a tailspin and makes her question her sanity. His presence does things to her she can't explain, but worse than the physical attraction she feels for him, is the bond she shares with his brother.
Kyran Rousseau had given up hope for a better future. Until he steps into the local community college of his new hometown and spots her across the room. Marjorie Emery is everything he's ever wanted but cannot have. Acting on his feelings means severing what is left of his fractured bond with his brother. Born with a genetic defect that is potentially fatal under the right circumstances, Kyran is running out of time. Marjorie might be the only chance to fix twenty-one years of suffering, but at what cost?
The Rousseaus are on a mission—one that might unleash a war among enemy clans. With a faceless threat stalking her, can Marjorie and Kyran keep all hell from breaking loose before it's too late?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kristy Centeno
• Release date: Oct 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223351849

Book preview

Copyright © 2023 Kristy Centeno

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9781234567890

ISBN-10: 1477123456

Cover design by: Ammonia Book Covers

Editor: Katherine McIntyre

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Printed in the United States of America

Secrets of the Moon

(Chronicles of the Lost Clan #1)

Foreword

Secrets of the Moon was the first book that I ever published. It was a labor of love that I had the joy to send off to the world back in 2012, after a wonderful publisher took a chance on me. I was new to writing then, with no previous experience or background, to help me through the grueling process. Notwithstanding, I learned a lot during those early days and was ecstatic when my first manuscript was out in the hands of readers.

Surprisingly, Secrets of the Moon was well received by many and did relatively well for a manuscript that needed a lot of work. However, the characters and the overall plot captivated readers. The craze for werewolves was the norm back then and it seemed Secrets of the Moon had hit the market at just the right time. I expanded on the werewolf universe as well, adding a few short stories in Kyran’s POV, which earned me many emails from fans when tragedy struck the Rousseau household.

The series itself remained unfinished as I focused on other projects and eventually, life came knocking. I had another baby, went back to school, started working full-time and lost track of the Rousseaus and Marjorie as the years flew by. It was when I decided to revisit the series years later, that I came to the startling realization that I wasn’t in love with the story anymore. Not like I used to be. I was disappointed with the book, mainly because I just hated how bad my writing was back then and how immature the characters sounded. Marjorie’s reaction to the Rousseaus secret also struck me as childish and I wondered whether any sane person would've taken the existence of werewolves as well as she did. Which made me aware of how unrealistic her reaction was, especially for someone who is deeply affected by a declining mental health.

So, after a lot of back and forth, I decided to remove the series altogether from the market and set it aside. I thought hard on whether to leave it unpublished and forget about it. But those emails I received from readers, asking when I was going to finish Kyran and Marjorie’s story kept me revisiting Secrets of the Moon again and again. Readers would reach out to me via Facebook, requesting me to finish the series. And every message, every email would spark my desire to see the series through.

Eventually, I decided to start over. I read and re-read Secrets of the Moon and concluded that a lot needed to change. Starting with how I’d improve the quality of the books without damaging the integrity of the plot. When I first started Secrets of the Moon, I knew the series was going to be a long one, but I quickly realized that to tell a detailed story I’d have to focus on the important points of the plot rather than on trivial matters that added little to the story.

For example, a lot was left unsaid from Kyran’s POV originally. While Marjorie was on a mission to discover what the Rousseaus are, the audience were left in the dark on what was going on in Kyran’s life and what he was feeling. His trauma wasn’t clearly defined nor daily issues that affected his everyday life. Not a lot was explained on how the bonding between Alexis, Kyran, and Marjorie came about. So, readers didn’t quite know or fully understand where the animosity between the twins came from.

Kyran is an important factor in the development of the plot, so I wanted to give him the importance he deserved. Those that read the original book when it was first available will be able to tell the difference right away. Nevertheless, my hope is that the rehashing of this version Secrets of the Moon will captivate readers now as much as the original did eleven years ago.

Thank you for taking a chance on Marjorie and Kyran and their story.

I hope you enjoy and fall in love with Secrets of the Moon all over again.

Knowing your own darkness is the best method for dealing with the darkness of other people.

- Carl Jung.

Prologue

Marjorie

Mulberry Road was a dark, solitary road in the countryside of Wolf Creek Hollow, a town the equivalent of bumfuck nowhere. The perilous street hugged one side of a mountain like a scared child embracing its mother. Hardly transited during the day, it was a joyrider’s paradise after midnight. Few dared to brave the hazardous ride through dangerous curbs bordering steep hills, guided only by the dim illumination of their headlights.

Marjorie Emery was neither brave nor a joyrider. Just plain stupid. A Goody Two-shoes trying to prove to others, and herself, that she was a wannabe daredevil willing to occasionally take risks too.

Come on, Marjie. Go faster! Tracy Malcolm leaned in and peeked at the speedometer. You’re not even pushing eighty. Her bloodshot eyes attested to a long night of heavy partying.

This ain’t doing it for me, Marjie. Long, golden tendrils blew around Angela's face like a halo as she poked her head out the window and laughed.

I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Angie, Claire Matthews shouted from the backseat.

It wasn’t as easy to maneuver the car on the winding asphalt, and Marjorie was beginning to understand why Mulberry Road had garnered its infamous nickname of Killzone Road.

Why not? The street’s empty. Come on, Marjie. Put the pedal to the metal.

Marjorie glanced back at Angela through the rearview mirror, heart skipping a beat at the sight of her halfway out the window. Angie, you’re not even wearing your seatbelt. Put it on. Hating to sound like a scolding mother, she winced at the authoritativeness of her tone.

Unfortunately, the protest was ignored.

You’re where fun goes to die, Marjie. Angela flipped Marjorie the bird. Tonight is all about living in the moment, remember?

Claire, who sat in the rear with Rosa and Angela, reached for a handful of Angie’s shirt and yanked to pull the girl back inside.

Angela shoved Claire's hand away and resumed her perilous position. Whatever happened to showing off, huh?

When Marjorie’s friends suggested taking her new Toyota Camry up Mulberry Road on a dare, it had seemed like a good plan. Just something to pass the time and score popularity points in the process. But the more she struggled to stay on one lane, the more it hit her that having four beers on an empty stomach first was a horrible idea. The queasiness threatening to upheave her gastrointestinal system had her rethinking more than one poor choice tonight.

Let yourself go for once. And enjoy it. Angela flailed her arms as if she intended to take flight. Of the four friends, Angela Bradshaw had gone overboard with alcohol consumption, gulping down drink after drink with the same ease most people chugged water.

This was a horrible idea. Rosa Martinez patted Marjorie’s right shoulder. Maybe we should head on home.

Don’t be such a party pooper, Rosa. Angela waved a hand as if to emphasize a point she hadn’t yet made. We’re up here to show Wolf Creek Hollow that we’re just as daring.

And that was how it had started. A group of students had highlighted how well-behaved they were, and voila, the girls decided they had as much to prove as the last couple of hotheads that took on Mulberry Road and lived to tell the tale.

Despite that voice in Marjorie’s head cautioning her to stop, she tapped the gas pedal just enough to give the car another boost that sent it speeding down a forty-mile per hour zone, pushing seventy-five.

The girls cheered on excitedly.

Now, here's the Marjie I … remember. Claire’s sluggish speech only served to plant more seeds of doubt into Marjorie’s head.

Was she overthinking things as usual? Wasn’t the point of all this to earn another title other than Miss Goody Two-shoes?

Tossing caution to the wind, she hit the gas. Every risky maneuver emboldened her to move past her limitations, enthralled by the possibility of becoming the first teenage girl to joyride on Mulberry Road without crashing. Or dying.

Fast approaching Deadman’s Curb, she saw an opportunity to prove herself a skillful driver. The bend was one sharp turn that placed cars near the edge of a hill on the left-hand side of the road. Deadman’s Curb earned its infamous nickname after claiming several victims that, like her, had thought themselves invincible to its hazardous arch. 

Damn it, Angie. Keep the window shut. Rosa’s annoyance drew Marjorie’s attention to the rearview mirror. Angie was still halfway out of the car, her bum inches from Rosa’s face. It’s cold. Rosa reached around Claire and hooked a finger inside Angela's jean pocket. She pulled, but Angie gave a quick jerk of her hips to free herself.

I’m hot, Angie protested.

Close the damn window.

Enough, Rosa. Angie swatted Rosa’s hand with her own.

The bickering between the two didn’t sit well with Marjorie. Just another hitch that sent waves of doubts surging through her mind.

Angie, I told you before, put your seatbelt on.

Angela was almost halfway out the window when Marjorie glanced at her via the rearview mirror. It was only a matter of time before the girl tumbled out of the car. Pushing seventy-five on such a compact road guaranteed that all injuries sustained during the fall could lead to death.

Marjorie laid off the gas a little and slowly stepped on the brakes, opting to listen to the warning shots her brain started firing off. Angie’s recklessness, as well as hers, could end badly.

Marjie, watch out. Claire pointed at the windshield, eyes wide as saucers.

Marjorie glanced ahead just as a small herd of deer emerged from the woods to their right. They dashed across the road in front of the car and hopped over the guardrail on the opposite side before disappearing into the night. A massive bulk of black fur followed. It sprinted to the middle of the road. Its large, round yellow eyes glowed as the beam of the car’s headlights illuminated a set of pointed ears and elongated muzzle. She caught a glimpse of it for a fraction of a second before she turned the wheel to the left to avoid a head-on collision with the creature.

The car swerved. Tires screeched as the rear fishtailed for a few breaths before Marjorie lost control. The car jerked to the side, hitting the flimsy guardrail with a loud bang.

The impact jarred her, the sound of metal striking metal drowning out the girl’s scream for a split second before it gave way. Marjorie’s breath hitched in her throat as the rail flattened and then … they were barreling down the hill.

All seventeen years of her life flashed before her eyes in an instant.

Glass shattered, spraying tiny shards in all directions. Marjorie tried to protect her face from the projectiles, but she lost the ability to control her limbs. She could have sworn she heard her blood rushing to her head as they were suspended upside down for a moment before the car came to rest at the base of a massive pine tree. A rush of agonizing pain shot from Marjorie’s crown and neck to back and hips. The smell of copper filled her nostrils. Sticky red liquid oozed down her temple, pouring onto her hands and thighs, saturating her clothing. The world came in and out of focus with each blink. She couldn’t speak. Or move. Numbness spread throughout her body. An unsettling chill sank in, replacing the warmth that’d previously cocooned her now-broken form.

Sleep wanted to claim her, but she fought the promise of a painless slumber with every ounce of strength she had left, afraid that giving in meant never waking up again.

A sudden flash of movement up ahead caught her attention. The massive bulk of fur abandoned its four-legged prey and dutifully made its way down the hill toward the mangled car instead. Her stomach clenched as the creature slunk in their direction, its yellow eyes focused on her. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out. She couldn’t even muster the energy to push sounds from her throat.

The creature could smell blood, probably deciding during its pursuit of a meal that they made for a more effortless supper than five fully-abled deer.

Trapped in a steel cage with a predator on the loose and with no way to escape, Marjorie couldn’t do more than wait for death as it approached on two muscular legs. It crept closer, its massive frame not that of an oversized bear but of something much more terrifying.

A monster that shouldn’t exist.

Its long, muscular arms reached nearly to its knees. Each of its surprisingly humanoid hands was equipped with thick claws the size of her pinky. Dark fur covered every inch of its massive body, though she couldn’t tell from a distance its exact color. But what got her heart going—made her stomach clench at the very sight—was the elongated muzzle protruding from below its large, golden eyes.

Its scrutiny was entirely predatory, like it couldn’t wait to sink its sharp teeth into her flesh. Horrified by the prospect of being eaten alive, she reached for the seatbelt. It was of no use. Her brain sent the command, but her body wouldn’t obey. Her arms were deadweight. Lifting her head proved impossible.

Resigned to whatever fate had designed for them, she squeezed her eyes shut and waited for those mini daggers to start tearing into her flesh, reducing her to meat, bones, and pieces of gore.

God, it seemed, was fond of her after all because sleep finally pulled Marjorie under its protective wing, sparing her the experiencing of being devoured by a creature taken from her worst nightmares.

Chapter One

Marjorie

Thirteen months later …

The blare of the alarm clock jarred her awake. The world came into focus slowly, then a bit faster as awareness crept in. She sat up in bed, trembling like a leaf and with no idea what day or year it was. It took a few seconds of staring at the digital numbers displayed on the clock atop the nightstand for her to gather her bearings.

A little over a year had passed since the accident.

It was just a dream, Marjorie.

That damn nightmare was a constant reminder of how much that stunt they’d pulled cost them. Yet, her role and the choices she made that night still haunted her.

Regret dug its claws into the pit of her stomach, making a perfect companion to the guilt, self-hatred, and sadness that’d already settled there long ago.

There was no escape. Not even while she slept. Even her subconscious reminded her that she’d never be free from that evening or the consequences that followed that near tragic incident.

The creature?

It never existed. Or so she was told.

The beast slithering into her subconscious and wreaking havoc on her mental health somehow became a representation of a part of her she couldn't or wouldn't acknowledge. A reflection of her darkest fears. Supposed to embody the side of herself she kept hidden; the creature was a persistent reminder of the darkness taking root inside her.

Honestly, nothing Dr. Wolfe said made a lick of sense. She never understood what her therapist meant. Those yellow eyes had felt as real at the time as they still did a year later. Not like something she’d conjured while on the verge of death. No one else remembered it. Not before or after the accident, but the humanoid creature was as vivid in her head as if she’d seen it yesterday.

Marjorie swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. Every muscle in her body ached from helping her father with outside chores all week. The backbreaking, arduous work had begun taking its toll, though it didn’t compare to the daily battles with stress. Some days the only thing she craved was to remain in bed and sleep the sadness away. The idea was tempting enough that she briefly considered it but quickly shoved it aside. Running late or skipping classes altogether wasn’t an option anymore. Not after the year they’d had. Not after what she’d put her family through.

Instead, she hopped into the shower and washed away the day’s preoccupations with warm water and lavender-scented liquid soap. Nothing like a refreshing shower to melt the tension from the muscles and help numb the mind to what might lie ahead.

Breakfast consisted of toast and a few pieces of diced bananas finished off with a steaming cup of black coffee. After cleaning up, she proceeded to the living room to wait for Tracy. Ten minutes later, the honk of a car horn drew her attention to the front door.

Tiptoeing around the sleeping labs curled up on their beds near the fireplace, Marjorie picked up the house keys and slid the strap of her bag over her shoulder. Buggy lifted his chocolate head to look at her but slumped down again as she waved goodbye. She exited the house, locking up behind her before descending the quintet of stairs leading to the driveway. Tracy's shiny four-door Hyundai idled near the shed across the lot from the house.

Claire rolled down the passenger-side window as Marjorie approached, her warm smile the first beacon of hope that maybe today would be different. Marjorie just had to ride the wave and see where it would take her.

Hey, sunshine.

Motivation was scarce, but excellent company helped. Tracy and Claire were the best incentives a girl could have. Their friendship made life easier, tolerable.

Less painful.

Hey, yourself. Marjorie opened the door and tossed the bag onto the backseat. You’re awfully cheerful today.

She's always in a good mood. Tracy's long, acrylic fingernails tapped on her cell phone screen, fingers gliding over the device with ease. Enough for the both of us. Locks of shoulder-length hair fell over one side of her pale face, obstructing Marjorie’s view of her.

One of us has to be. Claire shifted around as Marjorie slipped onto the backseat and pulled the rear door shut. Tell me you’ve heard of this upcoming bash at Kenny Marshall’s place? Her tan eyes twinkled with enthusiasm.

Marjorie’s social life had undergone a dramatic change since the accident. Invitations had flown in every weekend for one get-together or another, many of which she’d happily attended. However, after the accident, lack of motivation kept her home most nights. Fear of disapproval from her parents also contributed significantly to her decision to stay in nowadays.

Eventually, the invitations stopped coming, and Marjorie gradually resigned herself to a more tranquil life at home, away from the hustle and bustle of endless parties and underage drinking.

Uh, no. I haven’t.

Claire shoved a neon-green flyer with bold black letters into Marjorie’s hands. We have to go. Her request sounded more like a plea.

Marjorie skimmed over the announcement, fighting off the need to cringe at the melodramatic wording. She handed the paper back to Claire. You should. You deserve to have fun.

Claire’s lips upturned at her response. You’re not coming?

Moving on with life hadn't turned out as easy for her as it had been for Claire, Rosa, or Tracy. Forcing the family through financial ruin was one thing; her failed attempt at her life put the final nail in the coffin as far as her parents were concerned.

These days, she couldn’t afford to push her father or Vicki past their limitations. She’d hurt them plenty already.

Your parents are going to have to start trusting you at some point.

Tracy paused mid-text and lifted her head to look back at Marjorie. Their gazes met across the rearview mirror. A silent understanding passed between them.

Unlike Claire, Tracy usually offered words of solidarity only when they were alone. Tracy was closest to Marjorie and knew a lot more about how deep her troubles went.

I'll see what I can do. No promises, though, Marjorie relented.

Some argued that pleading for forgiveness was more complicated than asking permission. In her case, neither was easy, and both held a lot of weight she found extremely difficult to juggle.

I guess that’s a good an answer as I’m gonna get. Claire folded the neon paper and slipped it into her backpack. Let’s get going. Don’t wanna be late for class again. Mrs. Hensly will have a fit.

Marjorie inwardly cringed at the disappointment in Claire’s voice. How often had she let down her best friends over the past thirteen months?

Tracy stopped texting and slid the phone into the side console. They were underway a moment later.

Louis Wolf Community College was a twenty-minute drive across mountainous roads and steep hills. Surrounded by four acres of luscious forest, the building afforded its students some of the most breathtaking views from nearly every window on each side of the three-story structure. The closest businesses consisted of a quaint little diner and a burger place a quarter of a mile down the road.

Tracy pulled the car into the large parking lot with only minutes to spare for their 7:40 classes. Marjorie mumbled a thank you and hurried out of the car and across the lot to the rear entrance. Students milled about the hallways, forcing her to weave around them on the way to English Literature in her haste to get to class. She picked up her pace, arriving at the door right as Professor Brooks reached for the handle. He acknowledged her with a nod and gestured for her to go inside.

Marjorie slipped past Professor Brooks and to the rear, lowering her gaze to the concrete floor as she slunk to her usual spot. She’d purposely chosen the seat at the far end. Going unnoticed for the hour-long lecture was easier to achieve at the back of the classroom. The chair to her left sat empty, vacated weeks ago by a fellow student that stopped showing up for class one day. Melinda Blair was presumed missing, though rumors circulating campus alleged she’d run off with someone she met online.

True or not, Melinda Blair’s disappearance coincided with a string of oddities Wolf Creek Hollow had been in the center of for weeks. Cattle mutilations and mysterious vanishings of hikers and campers just to name a few.

Marjorie had always found comfort in the woods, losing herself in long walks that helped clear her mind and calm her restless spirit. But the air in her hometown now carried a tinge of danger she found off-putting. Maybe it was nothing. Perhaps it was just her mind playing tricks on her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that the beast she’d seen on the road had something to do with the phenomena plaguing Wolf Creek Hollow.

But if that was the case, why had the beast allowed Marjorie and her friends to live?

Chapter Two

Kyran

Pulling up into Louis Wolf Community College, Kyran’s attention immediately fell upon the building at the end of the driveway. Larger than expected for a local community college in a rural area, he found its location a bit odd. Surrounded by a single road to the left and a patch of forest to the right, the nearest buildings were a couple of eating establishments about a quarter of a mile up the road.

It was too soon for Kyran to form an opinion of Wolf Creek Hollow, but he had a special appreciation for its name. However, he didn’t have high expectations for the place. Or for the mission that’d driven his family to move to another location in less than eighteen months.

The Rousseaus, it would seem, were always on an endless chase for a miracle they weren’t sure existed. And he was tired of being the root of the problem.

Gage slowed the Audi to a stop and Kyran took advantage of that to scrutinize his surroundings. The lot was relatively big compared to the edifice itself, filled on all but one side with vehicles ranging in size and color. Though the cars themselves didn’t give much away in terms of the residents of Wolf Creek Hollow, he assumed by the modest sedans and the older model pickups that most were of humble origins.

Farmers.

Country folk, Marquise would say. People with completely normal lives, existing in a world originally intended for human’s exclusive use.

The Rousseaus’ flashy vehicles and noticeable accents would stand out among the crowd, and he suddenly wished they’d chosen an unremarkable mode of transportation versus what they drove up on. But the Audi was Josephine’s favorite ride, and Gage usually went along with what she wanted.

Gage eased the Audi into an empty parking space in a mostly vacant row nearest to the line of trees to the right of the building and turned off the ignition. Josephine peered back at Kyran from the front passenger seat, a hint of a smile forming as she waited for his reaction. But none came. He didn’t want to be there. All through the drive, Alexis sat to his right, attempting to engage him. Kyran was too far gone into his annoyance to give civility a try.

This is it. Our new playground.

Alexis’s voice came clear across his mind, shattering what illusion of privacy Kyran had. Pack members shared a telepathic link, but with twins the connection was especially powerful. And incredibly annoying.

This would be their home now. It would take time, if they had any left, to set up roots. Though he didn’t see the point. They couldn’t stay for long anyway. Why bother with keeping up appearances?

Sparing a glance to his right, he found a pair of silver eyes staring intently at him.

Alexis gestured to the three-story brick structure and grinned. Ready to mingle, little brother?

No. Turning away with a growl, Kyran opened the door and exited the car, glad to be free of the spirited babble of his more verbal family members. He slung the black backpack over his right shoulder and sniffed the air. The stench of male wolves struck Kyran the second he climbed out, confirming what they’d suspected all along. Others had already occupied the area, staking their claim on the territory believed to be the last known location of the lost child.

So, what do you think? His brother’s jovial smile awoke the urge to punch him in the nose.

No, that wasn’t entirely true. His grating expressions didn’t bother Kyran as much as the face.

Kyran’s face.

Nothing unique. As suspected. Tightening his grip on the strap, Kyran raised his gaze to the building. There are others here.

There was no logic to Marquise’s plan to have the younger members of the Rousseau clan enroll in the local community college and mix in with the crowd. His siblings had a good shot at pretending to be normal. Kyran, on the other hand, would stand out like a sore thumb. Blending in was his least favorite thing to do. And he wasn’t good at it to begin with.

Boy, you really know how to kill a mood, don’t you?

He ignored Alexis’s remark and turned to leave. The sooner he got the day over with the better.

Participating was a waste of everyone’s time. They were all aware of Kyran’s sickness—of his weaknesses. Once it returned, he’d be forced into isolation for days. Therefore, he couldn’t attend classes. How much time could he be out before eventually falling behind?

Not that it mattered to his family. He was just there to uphold appearances.

This is stupid, he rumbled more to himself than to anyone listening.

Yet, Marquise had insisted Kyran take part in tracking down someone whose existence they couldn’t confirm one way or another. As far as he was concerned, the lost child of the Valkhazar clan was a piece of folklore passed around for centuries to give hope to those in desperate need of hanging onto something.

Like his family.

Hold on. A flash of black zeroed in from the right, blocking Kyran’s path before he could take more than four steps forward. His gaze collided with that of his smaller but quick-tempered sister.

What? he barked, hoping that alone would convey disapproval. He didn’t want to be surrounded by people. By temptation. If something went wrong … there was no saying what could happen.

No, that wasn’t quite accurate either. They all knew exactly what would occur if he lost control. His family might have confidence in his ability to regulate his impulses, but he didn’t share the sentiment.

Unfazed, Josephine slapped a palm on his chest and quirked a dark eyebrow at him. You guys know why we’re here. Keep your eyes peeled and your ears opened.

The top of her head barely reached his chin, but she didn’t let that deter her from her role as the older sister.

Kyran looked away, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

The only girl in a household of males, Josephine had learned early on to hold her ground. At twenty-two, she had no trouble standing up for herself. Even if she couldn’t win against him in a one-to-one combat.

I already heard this speech from Marquise. Kyran wound his fingers around her wrist but hesitated to pull her hand off. Making a move she didn’t agree with could end with him flat on his back and possibly a black eye. That wasn’t how he intended to start out the day.

Then I shouldn’t have to remind you again, right? Dark wavy hair fell in silky ribbons past her shoulders. Unlike Alexis’s eyes, hers were the color of the ocean. Her skin was a rich alabaster that suggested she didn’t spend a lot of time outdoors. Though that couldn’t be further from the truth.

Can I go now? Kyran’s retort was met with a frown, but she conceded, dropping her arm to her side and taking a step back.

Let’s get going. Gage locked the car door, signaling for the others to join him as he led them to the side entrance. Everyone else is already inside. We’re already leaving a bad first impression with our tardiness.

Kyran set off from his siblings and marched to the front entrance, pulling open the door and storming inside before any of them could follow. At times, the best way to keep peace among the Rousseaus was by spending time away from them.

The door opened to a brightly illuminated corridor with an entire wall of offices to the right. He hurried along, sparing a glance at the window cutouts on the wooden frames and the individuals within the confined spaces. A few looked up, but none intercepted him as he sped along to a second door at the end of the hall. Tugging it open, he slipped into another hallway, wincing as the door slammed shut behind him with a clank!

Mission incognito had just been ruined by the gaudy sound of metal slapping against metal. If his scent hadn’t already carried down the halls and into the classrooms, the noise had most likely announced his presence to others of his kind. His role in Marquise’s plan was minimal. Scope out the college. Study the other wolves. Report back anything he deemed suspicious.

Kyran took a moment to survey his surroundings, familiarizing himself with the layout. Boring gray walls contrasted with the mahogany of the wooden floors and the two rows of reddish-brown doors on either side of him. None were open. Though the barriers did little to muffle the voices emanating from each individual class, including that of several male wolves mingling perfectly with their human counterparts.

Oversensitive hearing helped him make out male and females alike in midst of active participation of discussions. Occasionally, a wolf would chip in, adding their two cents to the conversation.

Invaders usurping human lives, no doubt. Hard to pinpoint what pack they belonged to, if any. What brought them to Wolf Creek Hollow was no mystery though.

The same purpose that had sparked the Rousseaus’ move to the area.

Kyran couldn’t recall which classroom he was supposed to be reporting to and couldn’t be bothered to memorize the number in the first place. Now that he was inside, he couldn’t think of a million other activities he’d rather be doing.

There were too many people about. Too many lives at stake.

Lately everything set him off, and he’d hate to be surrounded by other living beings when it struck again.

That damn curse.

He spun around, intending on marching out of the building but froze as something in the air caught his interest.

Rich and potent.

New.

Kyran inhaled, drawing in the most tantalizing scent he’d ever come across. Goose bumps broke across his skin as he analyzed the distinct markings of a young female.

Not just any female. One of strong blood.

Moving a few steps forward, he breathed in the fragments of that essence. His mind worked quickly, processing the particles in seconds, separating them from dozens of others and committing them to memory.

Every cell in his body came alive with awareness.

Available.

Unmated.

It was her.

The one.

The words echoed in his mind, swirling around like the curse of a catchy song.

He’d heard the stories. From his parents. From Marquise and Simone who’d recently mated. But he never expected to be on the receiving end of the same affliction.

It was never supposed to happen for him. He wasn’t like the others.

I’m tainted.

Defective.

Complete in every way that he wasn’t, Alexis had been chosen long ago to carry the family name. Something Kyran couldn’t do, cursed as he was.

The right of a mate was allotted only to Alexis. Not him.

Yet … there was no mistaking the rush of adrenaline that coursed through him as he inhaled her scent.

Excitement elevated his pulse. His heart galloped at the prospect of meeting her.

Mine.

Could he be mistaken? Misreading the signs somehow?

Kyran had to find