Blood Moons by Alianne Donnelly
Authors: Alianne Donnelly
Tags: Science-Fiction, adventure, Romance, Literature & Fiction, Paranormal, Science Fiction & Fantasy
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them, it felt like his right to be near her, to touch her and taste her. He wanted to bury his nose in her hair and just breathe her in; he craved her scent more than air. And he wanted to—he frowned, trying to identify it. Sex was too tame a word. What he felt was more possessive and animalistic than anything he'd ever felt before. Tristan needed her to recognize that she was his, needed to put some kind of claim on her.
The need to stake his territory baffled him.
Tristan punched the pillow, then tossed it to the foot of his bunk when it stubbornly refused to remain disfigured. The problem wasn't the serums and the experiments. What really 100
Blood Moons
by Alianne Donnelly
drove him up the wall was that after years of solitude in this prison he was forced to spend almost twenty-four hours a day with a woman he liked. It was a purely male response. He probably would have had the same reaction with any other female.
So why was it that since she got here he felt at the same time more human and more animal than he had in years?
His heart slammed against the wall of his chest, knocking the breath out of him. Dizzy with the urge to protect, he jumped down from the tree and landed on all fours. It felt natural to him.
Lifting his nose to the air, he sniffed. He was looking for her. Because she was in danger. He could smell her fear and it made him crazed. Whatever was threatening her had no scent. It was a void where something should have been and it felt ... wrong.
The city was abandoned. Transports stood out like tumbleweeds in the desert; white drapes billowed out of open windows and artificial lights flickered at all levels—but nothing living moved. Nothing stirred in the night and he wouldn't have cared if it did. With single-minded determination he loped through the empty streets, reveling in the feel of it.
Running free. Hunting.
His mate screamed nearby and he shouted in response—
but it came out as an animal roar. He ran faster.
Turn the corner. Run to the end of the street.
Jump over an abandoned transport.
Another corner...
And then he saw them.
101
Blood Moons
by Alianne Donnelly
She was backing into a corner, frantically looking for a way out. There was none.
He growled and launched himself onto the man pursuing her. Instinct took over and he bit into the fiend's neck with relish. He tore at the flesh, ignoring the ache in his teeth and claws as he buried them in the attacker's body.
But he didn't die.
The killing rage subsided, the bloody haze cleared, and he saw his prey covered with his own blood, flesh torn open at the neck and chest— laughing . He didn't make a sound but it was no cough that made him shake like that. The man—the thing that didn't smell like anything, not even bleeding out on the ground—opened his purple eyes and kept on laughing as he pulled himself up to sit. His head fell back on his shoulders without the neck's support and still he laughed.
Still down on all fours, Tristan backed away toward his mate, shielding her with his own body, wanting her far away from this.
The monster before him laughed and laughed, and then he leaned forward and his head flipped back to its normal position. But it was no longer the purple-eyed puppet that stared at him.
It was the soldier.
Tristan jerked awake and struck out blindly at the wall.
Something sharp bit into his hands and he uncurled his fists, horrified to find sharp, inch-long claws pulling out of his palms. Even as he watched, his nails retracted and dulled back into their normal shape.
102
Blood Moons
by Alianne Donnelly
He clenched his fists again to stop the bleeding and jumped down, landing on the balls of his feet without the smallest sound. He was in the bathroom before a single drop of blood could fall to the floor.
It was there that he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Hair streaked with light brown, slitted yellow-green eyes, sharper cheekbones ... and fangs.
Christ, what was
The need to stake his territory baffled him.
Tristan punched the pillow, then tossed it to the foot of his bunk when it stubbornly refused to remain disfigured. The problem wasn't the serums and the experiments. What really 100
Blood Moons
by Alianne Donnelly
drove him up the wall was that after years of solitude in this prison he was forced to spend almost twenty-four hours a day with a woman he liked. It was a purely male response. He probably would have had the same reaction with any other female.
So why was it that since she got here he felt at the same time more human and more animal than he had in years?
His heart slammed against the wall of his chest, knocking the breath out of him. Dizzy with the urge to protect, he jumped down from the tree and landed on all fours. It felt natural to him.
Lifting his nose to the air, he sniffed. He was looking for her. Because she was in danger. He could smell her fear and it made him crazed. Whatever was threatening her had no scent. It was a void where something should have been and it felt ... wrong.
The city was abandoned. Transports stood out like tumbleweeds in the desert; white drapes billowed out of open windows and artificial lights flickered at all levels—but nothing living moved. Nothing stirred in the night and he wouldn't have cared if it did. With single-minded determination he loped through the empty streets, reveling in the feel of it.
Running free. Hunting.
His mate screamed nearby and he shouted in response—
but it came out as an animal roar. He ran faster.
Turn the corner. Run to the end of the street.
Jump over an abandoned transport.
Another corner...
And then he saw them.
101
Blood Moons
by Alianne Donnelly
She was backing into a corner, frantically looking for a way out. There was none.
He growled and launched himself onto the man pursuing her. Instinct took over and he bit into the fiend's neck with relish. He tore at the flesh, ignoring the ache in his teeth and claws as he buried them in the attacker's body.
But he didn't die.
The killing rage subsided, the bloody haze cleared, and he saw his prey covered with his own blood, flesh torn open at the neck and chest— laughing . He didn't make a sound but it was no cough that made him shake like that. The man—the thing that didn't smell like anything, not even bleeding out on the ground—opened his purple eyes and kept on laughing as he pulled himself up to sit. His head fell back on his shoulders without the neck's support and still he laughed.
Still down on all fours, Tristan backed away toward his mate, shielding her with his own body, wanting her far away from this.
The monster before him laughed and laughed, and then he leaned forward and his head flipped back to its normal position. But it was no longer the purple-eyed puppet that stared at him.
It was the soldier.
Tristan jerked awake and struck out blindly at the wall.
Something sharp bit into his hands and he uncurled his fists, horrified to find sharp, inch-long claws pulling out of his palms. Even as he watched, his nails retracted and dulled back into their normal shape.
102
Blood Moons
by Alianne Donnelly
He clenched his fists again to stop the bleeding and jumped down, landing on the balls of his feet without the smallest sound. He was in the bathroom before a single drop of blood could fall to the floor.
It was there that he caught a glimpse of his face in the mirror. Hair streaked with light brown, slitted yellow-green eyes, sharper cheekbones ... and fangs.
Christ, what was
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