Bad Moon Rising (Blackthorn Wolves) by Vivi Anna Page A

bowed her head. “And let it be done.”

Chapter Two
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    T ommy woke in an instant. It was as if something had
jabbed him in the heart.  Adrenaline rushed through him like wildfire.  He’d
never felt anything like that before.
    Rubbing his face, he swung his legs out of bed and
stood.  He padded naked across the room to the bedroom window.  He looked out
at the night, gazing up at the moon.  She wasn’t quite full yet.  Two more
nights and she’d be complete.  And he would obey her beckoning.
    Beckoning.
    That’s what it felt like in his body, in his mind. 
Like he was being called forth.  As far as he’d experienced in his thirty
years, the moon was the only thing that could do that to him.
    He turned from the window and glanced at his warm
bed.  There was no way he’d get back to sleep now.  A run.  That would do him
some good and ease some of this tension he was feeling inside.
    He walked downstairs and to the kitchen.  He slid
open the balcony door and inhaled the warm night air.  Every day he was
thankful for living on the edge of the woods like he did.  Living deep in the
city would drive him insane.  Thankfully one of the perks of being a wolf pack
general was the house near the trees.  Garrick Blackthorn was a great alpha and
a good friend to give him this place.
    Every muscle in his body quivered with the need to
shift.  When he reached the dewy grass, he stretched with a long drawn out
quiver from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. He then crouched onto
the ground and began to shift.  It hurt like hell, as it always did.
    Bones elongated and shifted, joints popped, course
hair pushed through small pores, long curved claws grew from tips of fingers
and teeth, jagged and sharp, thrust painfully from sore swollen gums.  The
process sucked, but the end result was glorious.
    Tommy raised his muzzle to the air and sniffed.  A
myriad of smells came to him in an instant, and he was able to catalogue them
quickly.  Damp grass and leaves, dirt, lavender and freesia, the subtle musk of
rodents and other wildlife.  He took it all in and sighed, well as much as a
werewolf could sigh.  It was more like a snort through flared nostrils.
    Shaking out his body from nose to tail, he bounded
into the tall grass and headed for the copse of trees.  Maybe he’d do a little
hunting during his run.  There was nothing like the thrill of stalking prey. 
It never failed to ignite the most primal part of him.  The werewolf side that
ruled much of what he was, even in human guise.
    As he sprinted through the underbrush, leaping over
fallen branches and craggy bushes, his thoughts unfortunately strayed to what
had woken him.  An image flashed behind his eyes nearly making him stumble.  It
was of a naked woman, arms raised to the sky, standing in the middle of a green
field.
    He ran faster, harder, pushing his wolf body to its
limits.  Hoping speed and endurance would wipe his mind clear.  By the time he
made it through the trees to the clearing, his heart thumped so fast he was
panting with the exertion.
    But still the image remained.
    He huffed once then twice, and a heady scent caught
his attention.  Raising his muzzle up, he inhaled deeply.  A shiver raced down
the length of his body and his hackles rose.  He wasn’t alone.  A human was
nearby.  He sniffed again. A woman.
    And by the scent of her, not an ordinary woman.
    He turned just in time to see her walk out of the
trees and into the clearing a few yards from where he stood.  She was
beautiful, with long blond hair, pale porcelain skin.  Despite his wolf form,
her curves made his loins harden. Ears up, he approached her, though
cautiously.
    When he was within a few feet, she looked right at
him and smiled.  “Come to me, little wolf.  I summon you.”
    Then she disappeared.
    Now, he understood why he’d woken earlier. And who
had done the waking.
    Anisa Crowley. A powerful witch. And