Diamond Moon (Black Hills Wolves Book 12) Read online

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Diamond Moon

  Copyright © 2015 by Celia Breslin

  ISBN: 978-1-61333-803-2

  Cover art by Fiona Jayde

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.

  Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC

  Look for us online at:

  www.decadentpublishing.com

  Black Hills Wolves Stories

  Wolf’s Return

  What a Wolf Wants

  Black Hills Desperado

  Wolf’s Song

  Claiming His Mate

  When Hell Freezes

  Portrait of a Lone Wolf

  Taming His Mate

  Alpha in Disguise

  A Wolf’s Promise

  Reluctant Mate

  Diamond Moon

  Wolf on a Leash

  Tempting the Wolf

  Coming Soon

  Worth Fighting For

  Promiscuous Wolf

  A Wolf Awakens

  Dedication

  To my husband and daughter – love you! To my beta readers Amber Belldene, Afton Locke, and Mahalia Levey – you rock! Special thanks to Virginia Nelson for introducing me to Decadent Publishing and to the Decadent team for welcoming me to the family.

  Diamond Moon

  Black Hills Wolves

  By

  Celia Breslin

  Chapter One

  Darci hurried along the gravel edging the worn pavement masquerading as a road leading into Los Lobos, population unknown, exact location not even listed on her Rand McNally map. Her boots kicked up enough dust in the growing wind to make her sneeze, even as the hairs on her nape rose from the incessant sensation of being watched.

  For the millionth time since she’d abandoned her little VW Beetle a few miles back—where the road devolved into a post-apocalyptic joke of a highway—she palmed the pink SABRE mini taser in her jacket pocket, comforted by the hard plastic deliverance of doom her aunt had insisted she take with her on her journey to the middle of nowhere.

  Rolling hills, rocky cliffs peeking out from the densely packed pine trees, meadows encouraging a Sound of Music gallop with arms stretched wide. America’s Heartland. Beautiful and remote Black Hills, South Dakota. Too bad the pretty place had goose bumps tracking up her arms and chills scurrying down her spine.

  The wind kicked up, and she grabbed the bill of her baseball cap, holding tight. If those cranky black clouds started spitting rain, she’d need this little protection. She hadn’t packed an umbrella. Rain rarely happened at home this time of the year. Too bad she’d neglected to Google the weather for South Dakota in June. Judging from the swirling cloud cover, a world of oh, hell no might unleash on her head before she managed to make it to town.

  If the town really existed.

  Unease tingled along her arms. “Come out, come out, little spy.”

  She scanned the pine trees surrounding her on both sides like a thick green blanket and smelling of Christmas. Having grown up in southern Oregon amidst hills and trees not unlike where she currently traipsed, she’d expected the forest here to comfort her. Instead, she couldn’t shake her wariness. She saw nothing staring at her from the depths of the forest, but her gut urged her to run home to her aunt’s cozy cottage in quaint—and safe—Ashland.

  Maybe she should’ve listened to her aunt’s arguments against this adventure. Maybe the hand-drawn map her dead parents had left behind—the map she clutched as if it would magically make this mythical town appear before her—was a joke.

  She shook her head. No. Her father had never joked. And he reserved his smiles for her or Mama. His green eyes, matching her own, would light up with love for them alone. She had been six when they both died in a plane crash, but she remembered him. Big and tall, strong and silent, and so serious and on alert, as if danger had lurked everywhere in their idyllic, little Oregon town.

  True to his protective nature, he’d left behind instructions for her in case of his death. A note he’d clearly crafted in his state of perpetual wariness, outlining every possible if-then situation Darci might encounter given her half-human, half-Wolf nature, and what to do in the event he was unavailable to help her sort it out.

  Her aunt had kept the note from Darci until her twenty-third birthday and, coincidentally, her graduation day from Southern Oregon University with an M.S. in Computer Science, thank you very much. Darci had been so angry at her for withholding the info but had understood her reasoning. She’d wanted to provide Darci with a stable, normal, human life. As a single parent of her sister’s child, she’d done a great job, too. But keeping Darci’s secret had been hard on both of them. Her aunt had one trusted friend/lover while Darci had a few casual friends but no one close. No one she trusted enough to let them know she grew fangs, four legs, and fur at every full moon. Closeness meant sharing, and sharing could lead to discovery of her hidden, horrible truth. I’m not like everyone else.

  But, maybe she could be. Maybe the South Dakota Wolves in this mystery town where her father had been born and raised knew a way to help her stop shifting for good. Maybe then she’d be free. God, she hoped her dad was right, and someone could help her here.

  Thunder rumbled overhead, and a gust of wind pushed Darci from behind. She stumbled then hustled forward. Time to seek shelter, preferably a nice, cozy room in a quaint little bed and breakfast that would magically appear any second.

  No such luck. The trees gave way to yet another meadow and, not surprising, another dilapidated, abandoned building. How many of these meadows had she passed? A half dozen? All with ramshackle buildings, the skeletal remains of barns, stables, neglected homes.

  None of them looked capable of housing her in this storm. Another shot of unease stomped over her spine. She diverted her gaze from the road to the remains of the ranch set away from the road in the meadow. A graying, rotted, wood fence zigzagged in front of what was once probably a small ranch house, now an assortment of broken windows, half-ripped roof, and weather-weary walls. A door hung open and flapped against the side of the ranch, the banging sound audible to her keen Wolf hearing over the ever-increasing screech of the wind.

  Then she saw it—movement in the tall green grass. Something as gray as the fence it slunk under. Something big. Darci froze, heart hammering in her chest. A Wolf padded directly for her.

  She shoved the map in her pocket and grabbed her taser, backing away into the center of the road. “Uh, nice doggie. I’m one of you. Kinda. Sort of. Maybe.” Great, babbling at a wild animal. A predator who looked very hungry for a woman-sized snack.

  Lightning flashed. Thunder cracked. The Wolf growled.

  Darci whirled and ran as the sky opened and pelted her with cold rain.

  Running was a stupid move. The Wolf could catch her in a blink, sink its teeth into her, and bring her to the ground. Unless I shift and show it I’m a Wolf, too. She suppressed a laugh. Her shifts were never swift or pain free. Slow, bone breaking, skin splitting. Painful. They took her to the brink of insanity—and death—at e
very full moon. If she didn’t get some help to stop the Wolf craziness, one full moon soon the shift would likely kill her. Of course, today she might experience death by real Wolf.

  Wait. I’m still alive. The Wolf hadn’t charged. Darci slowed to a jog and glanced over her shoulder. It loped slightly behind her and to the side, watching her every move. Relief flooded her. Looked as if she’d met her first shifter. Not counting Dad.

  “Um. Hi,” she offered her companion.

  No reply. Fine by her. She kept up her jog, happy she’d been a runner all her life, and a good one. Daddy’s Wolf genes, no doubt. Her mood improved further when, at last, Los Lobos came into view through the sheets of freezing rain. Although the several buildings she could see fronting the road gave new meaning to the word quaint, she was still glad to see some semblance of civilization.

  No people, no cars, but one sign caught her attention. Gee’s Bar. According to her father’s note, just the person she needed to see. Her picture-perfect memory brought up the last four lines of the note.

  Trust only Gee and Luparell.

  Stay away from Magnum.

  Love you, DeeDee.

  Dad

  A few steps from the bar door, Darci stopped and faced her furry shadow. “Thanks for the escort, and, um, for you know, not eating me.”

  The Wolf snorted and shook its head. Then, in a disturbing mood shift, her pal bared its wicked-sharp teeth and growled. Crap, maybe he wanted to eat her after all. Darci took this as her cue to bolt. She pivoted to dash into the bar but smacked into a mountain of man instead.

  She landed on her ass with a shriek and looked up. And up. And up. “Ouch.”

  The big bear of a man gazed down at her. The way his dark eyes assessed every inch of her made her want to crawl away and hide behind her Wolf friend. But a howl sounded in the distance, and her Wolf companion howled in response and loped away, disappearing between the buildings across the street.

  The rain pelted her, sleet threatening to become hail. She shivered. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this cold in summer,” she babbled as she scrambled to get her feet under her.

  He gripped her arm and hauled her up as if she weighed no more than a down-filled pillow—and wouldn’t her tired head love to rest on one right about now. A yawn punctuated her thought. “Sorry, been a long day. And walk.”

  The big man stared, saying nothing.

  She hugged herself. “I’m looking for Gee.”

  “You found him.”

  Trust only Gee and Luparell. “Great.” She scuffed her boot on the ground and looked at his chest, the sleet too much when she tried to raise her head. “My dad said you could help me, but um, can we go inside to talk?”

  He didn’t seem bothered by the storm while Darci’s shivering threatened to chatter the teeth right out of her mouth.

  “Go home. You don’t belong here.” Gee’s gruff tone sent disappointment darting through her.

  This was the man her dad wanted her to talk to? Anger surged. So far this had been the day from hell. Walking for miles in the middle of nowhere, scared by a Wolf then by a huge, mean man….

  “Look, buddy, I don’t want to be here, but my dad, Declan Diamond, told me to come here. And trust you. And some guy named Luparell.”

  Gee’s nostrils flared. He narrowed his eyes and stared at her. Hard. Recognition registered in his expression. Interesting. But the cold had officially clotted her brain, and, at the moment, she craved nothing more than a warm refuge. And though her father had said to trust this ginormous Gee guy, she didn’t. Maybe she’d have better luck with the other man from her dad’s note.

  “You know what? Forget it. I’m tired and freezing, so if you can just point me in the direction of the town hotel, I’ll get out of your hair.”

  “Go home, little Wolf.” Gee pointed up the road at a nearby hill.

  Perched halfway up amidst the trees, Darci spotted a house. A bed and breakfast? Fine by her. Gee had proved next to useless, so she would go to this bed and breakfast, get some rest, and hunt for Luparell in this weird little ghost town tomorrow.

  “Thank you, Gee.” She tried to sound sincere but didn’t quite manage it if his grunt was anything to go by.

  She hurried off at a brisk jog in the direction of sweet, dry shelter, backpack bouncing against her tired body.

  God, she hoped the next small town spook she met would be nicer.

  Chapter Two

  Ross planted himself in front of his living room window to watch the storm roil the sky and ravage the hillside. June was storm central in South Dakota, or so the locals informed him. Having grown up in Indiana, he’d experienced fierce weather—tornados included—and had to admit he loved it. The power, the danger, the unpredictability. Of course, he loved it as entertainment from his front porch or from the safety of his family’s renovated basement. Or, in this instance, from the comfort of his warm, dry living room.

  He stretched his aching neck and rolled his tight-as-hell shoulders. Long, damn day at the construction site. Would’ve lasted longer if this killer storm hadn’t struck and prevented the exterior work he’d scheduled for his crew for the latter half of the day. Can’t landscape with hail hammering our heads, mud up to our knees, and visibility sinking to zero. The good news? His crew had finished the interior of the home, complete with final walk-through, so the Carsons, a tent-dwelling family of four, had a warm, dry place to stay for the night and for the rest of their lives.

  Pride at a job well done swelled in his chest. He’d experienced only a fraction of this kind of satisfaction when he’d made his fortune selling his mobile and tablet apps, apps he continued to create with his brother. Their products made a difference in people’s social lives but not like this. Not the same as providing shelter for a family in need.

  He glanced at his laptop on the rug fronting the fireplace. The Carsons had provided the name of another family he could reach out to, currently living in a cramped camper van on the outskirts of town. They didn’t trust strangers, so he’d have to proceed with care. But he’d damn well try. He wanted to set up roots here, and to do so involved developing strong ties. His family in Indiana—having fled rigid pack life and the former, crazed, pack leader before Ross was even born—thought him nuts for wanting to settle in Wolf country. But after a lifetime among humans and many, meaningless flings with human women—fun as they were—he needed a change. Something…more.

  Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the trees fronting his house and the pellet-sized white balls of hail pelting his wraparound deck. Palms pressed to the cold window glass, his nostrils flared as he scented the air. Pine trees, fresh mountain rain, the lightning’s sharp tang of ozone, the oak firewood burning in his fireplace, the bitter, dark-chocolate aroma of coffee in a carafe in the kitchen.

  Smells like home.

  The scuttle of paws on hardwood pattered behind him, followed fast by the sting of tiny claws embedded in his leg.

  He laughed and trapped the fur bundle in his hands. “Damn, Cinder, that hurt.”

  The feline wrapped his little body around Ross’s forearm and gnawed on Ross’s thumb.

  “Hungry, boy? I can take a hint.” He clamped the squirmy kitten against his chest, receiving a mewl and abundant purrs as he strode toward the kitchen.

  A thump heavier than the staccato taps of the hail from outside on his deck halted him in the foyer. More offbeat thuds near the door. Company in this weather? None of his crew would come here—they’d call about any emergency.

  He dropped Cinder, much to the kitten’s vocal annoyance, and stalked to his door. Blood raced to his muscles, prepping him for potential battle. He reached out with his Wolf senses. The feedback froze his fingers on the doorknob. Female. Damn, she smelled good. Human. Wolf. Wait…both? The copper tang of blood hit his nose. And injured.

  He flung open the door. His abrupt move caught his visitor off guard, one small, white fist raised to knock. The woman startled and fell forward. Catching her, he
pulled her inside, kicking the door shut with his foot.

  She sagged against him, a shivering bundle of wet woman. Underneath the dampness, her scent drop-kicked his gut. Apples and cinnamon. Roses and honey. His body perked up, taking extreme notice. He fought the growl of possession threatening to tear out of his throat. Holy hell, had his potential mate just walked into his home in the middle of a storm?

  The scent of her blood jump-started his brain into action. He lowered her gently to the floor. “Jesus. You okay?”

  His instincts urged him to check her for wounds, but he was a stranger and didn’t want to spook her. But goddamn, he wanted to touch her. Peel off her wet clothes. See all of her. With a jacket covering her torso, tight jeans hiding her legs, and her ball cap pulled low on her face, all he’d seen so far was her quivering pale chin, full red lips, and those delicate, trembling hands.

  “S-s-sorry, d-dripping all ov-v-ver your f-f-floor,” she said, teeth chattering. Her snow white fingers curled on the hardwood, arms trembling with her effort to keep herself upright. Blood streaked the wood. A line of liquid crimson slid down her jaw and dripped from her chin onto her jacket.

  To hell with propriety. “You’re injured. Let me help you.” He pulled off her cap and damn near swallowed his tongue.

  Big green eyes blinked up at him from a face so pale it made him think of moonlight. Drenched, short black hair lay plastered to her head, the ends framing features reminiscent of the fairies his sister loved to draw for the hidden-object games she designed. Ethereal beauty. My beauty. He stroked a knuckle down her cheek then ran his thumb over her soft, full lower lip.

  She flinched and batted his hand away, falling to her side in the process.

  Ross snapped back to reality with a healthy hit of guilt. “Shit. Sorry.”

  His gaze shot to her forehead where a two-inch cut sent blood trailing over her prominent cheekbone with its silky-smooth skin he’d so enjoyed caressing—