Werewolf on Somana Two

Excerpt

She stood watching him sprawled across the rollaway bed in her makeshift clinic, with his bulky, muscled body taking up every available inch of the small contraption. He had dozed off for a moment, and she couldn’t resist the urge to run her fingers along the contours of his broad chest, down to that narrow trail of hair just above and below his navel. A pulse of mind-numbing need sprang to life inside her, and she told herself to stop, but her fingers would not obey the halfhearted command her brain sent out to them.

With her fingers hovering at the waistband of his pants, she paused when his weight made the bed’s springs creak in protest beneath him. She tried to remember just how tall he’d been when he’d towered over her as he stumbled in her front door. Even bent, holding his side, he had stretched high above her five-foot-ten-inch frame. She didn’t speculate on the exact height. No, that would give her fantasies too much detail to work with, and it was sure she would be dreaming of dark hair and bewitching blue eyes tonight, that and the taut, warm skin stretched across too-powerful muscles.

Nothing specific mattered about him, she told herself, trying with little effort to tug her gaze and her hands away from his inviting body—not his name, not where he’d come from, and certainly not what he was doing in her herbal-magic shop with a gaping wound in his side. A wound that could not possibly have come from an accident on the street like he said. No, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Edible had been up to no good before he came to her. But then so were many of her patrons. Her service was unique, after all.

“Who is he, Kelly?” her assistant, Tame, asked, who was anything but tame.

Kelly shrugged. “A customer. One who paid up front, more than I was asking. What do I care who he is?”

Tame shook his head and poked out his thin lips. “Hm, I should have known when you brought that bed home from the salvage ship there would be trouble. We’ve always been a regular shop, an herbal grocery store, if you will, but this?” He gestured to the back room, which they had sparsely furnished with the rollaway bed, a few shelves for supplies, a table and chair, and a small sink she had used to wash away the blood from the stranger’s wound. “This is asking for more trouble. They find out you actually patch people up back here, and we’re really in for it. Practicing medicine without a license. Bad, very bad.”

Kelly chuckled. “Practicing anything on Somana Two without a license is bad, Tame. You know that. Besides, what I do pays the bills. With The Agency cracking down and getting into everyone’s business, it’s no wonder they come to me. And I ask you, who has real earth-grown herbs like I do? No one. No synthetic materials in this shop. There’s enough of that poison back on Earth. No thank you.”

“Earth-grown? Don’t you mean Somana Two–grown, or even moon-grown?”

She waved her hand and turned away. “Never mind. Go watch the front. I’m going to . . .” She paused when the lobe of her left ear began to itch. Ever since she was eight years old, the feeling had been a signal to trouble coming, and it had never failed her once. She shoved Tame ahead of her and slammed the door closed on her patient. By the time the two of them made it to the front of the shop, two agents were strolling in the front door, their weapons drawn and suspicious expressions marring their faces.

“Hello, gentlemen, what may I do for you today? A little peppermint for indigestion, perhaps?”

The scowls deepened, and Kelly had to fight not to laugh at the insult she’d dealt them.

“We’re looking for a man,” the first agent responded.

Tame rolled his eyes. “Aren’t we all?”

Kelly suppressed another chuckle, but the agents weren’t laughing. As far as anyone knew, none of the men who worked for the corporation they called The Agency—which for all intents and purposes owned Somana Two—had a sense of humor. Their one aim in life seemed to be to make everyone else’s life as miserable as possible. Every day there were new restrictions. If Kelly didn’t have a few tricks up her sleeve, she was sure they would have shut her down long ago.

“We’re looking for a specific man . . . a beast, actually,” the agent went on. He held up a gruesome picture of bodies torn apart and blood everywhere. Beyond a quick glance, Kelly didn’t scrutinize it too much. “There’s a werewolf on Somana Two, and we mean to capture it dead or alive.”

Tame would not be kept out of the conversation, and when Kelly didn’t respond right away, he jumped in with his two cents. “That’s impossible. Werewolves are not allowed on Somana Two. Goodness, if even one got loose—”

“Exactly,” the second agent snapped. “Twenty-four hours, seven days a week of a full moon. Miss, have you seen anyone suspicious?”

It wasn’t the blood that had thrown her off balance, but the residual torment of the people involved. That overwhelming emotion had clung to the photo long after they were buried, no doubt, but that was another of her gifts—or curses—sensing strong emotions, usually the negative ones. At last, having pulled herself together after seeing the photo, Kelly spoke up. “No, I haven’t seen anyone suspicious. Yet, how would I know? People are arriving here from Earth practically every day. I don’t know them all, and they don’t all come into Kelly’s either.”

“Well, if you do come across someone you think might be who we’re looking for, it would be in your best interest to contact us immediately. I don’t need to tell you the consequences of harboring a werewolf—or any fugitive—on Somana Two.”

“No, you don’t.” She turned away without saying “Have a nice day” and left Tame to see them out. When she was sure the agents had left the shop, she entered the back room. The man was no longer on the bed but poised with his hand on the knob to exit through her rear door.

“Serratura,” she commanded with a wiggle of two fingers, and the lock clicked into place, unable to be opened unless she released it. “Just where do you think you’re going, mister? I said that treatment needs to stay in place for a full hour in order for you to heal properly.”

He turned slowly to face her, his light blue eyes having gone dangerously dark, a shade similar to what she remembered Earth’s ocean being when she’d seen it years ago. “Why didn’t you turn me in?” he asked.

“I—”

“I could be the werewolf they’re looking for.”

When had he crossed the floor to stand in front of her? Correction, tower over her, as he’d done when he arrived. Good grief he was massive, and he smelled like . . . her grandfather’s tiny plot of land with the even smaller old house on it—like home and safety. Kelly shuddered. That was an illusion, of course. She didn’t know this man, and she hadn’t been home since her grandfather passed and The Agency gobbled up in fees what little she had left in the world.

Kelly put distance between her and the stranger, and the smirk that spread across his five-o’clock-shadowed jaw did little to ease the longing she was feeling to touch him again, to see if he tasted as good as he looked. She tried for boldness, a tact she used to hide her fear, and when that didn’t work, she’d always resorted to magic.

“You’re not the werewolf.”

“What makes you so sure?” He cocked his head to the side and let his gaze drop down to her body, lingering on her breasts. The sheer heat from that gaze made her think twice. The werewolves were an aggressive bunch, taking what they wanted, killing what they didn’t, and adding to their numbers by the droves—up until The Agency herded and imprisoned them, that is.

Kelly licked her lips, capturing his attention, and took a step back. He followed like the predator he was suspected of being.

“Do you feel up all your patients?” he asked out of nowhere.

She froze, shock and nerves vying for dominance inside her. “I . . . uh . . .”

He grinned and came closer. “Because I’m wondering if I get a turn to touch as well.” He raised a hand in the direction of her breast. He inched closer and lowered his head like he was going to kiss her. Kelly tried her best not to sway into the wide, hard palm and offer her mouth to him.

“Well . . .” She swallowed. Could she be so bold? When was the last time she’d had a man? Last year? The year before? He had been passing through, he said. Didn’t like Somana Two, but maybe he’d stop in again. She was not in the habit of jumping into bed with strange men, but like this one, yum! A small sampling wasn’t so bad, and disease of that type had been all but wiped out. They had a whole new set of ways to die in this day and age. Instead of addressing his touching her, she went back to the safer of the two topics. “You would have killed me by now if you were a werewolf because the moon makes them crazy. They’re killing machines, can’t think straight except to eat and destroy.”

“And mate,” he reminded her.

Kelly’s mouth dropped open. For a moment, she thought the man would swoop in for what he’d more than hinted at, but he drew back with a teasing grin. “I’ve got to go. Unlock the door, beautiful.”

What choice did she have? Kelly uttered the word that would undo her spell, and the man moved across the room to the door.

“Thank you for taking care of me and for not turning me over to the agents. If I can ever return the favor, I will.”

Just like that, he was gone.