Seduced by the Moon. Linda Thomas-Sundstrom

He’d sent her away, and she’d obliged. Her allure might be strong, but he couldn’t let it rival the moon’s—the moon at that same moment sending out signals that he intercepted as clearly as if the giant orb contained a telepathic intelligence.

      Tomorrow night he’d change into something that would scare Skylar to death. All thoughts of closeness and intimacy would be a thing of the past if she were to witness his transformation.

      In this new reality, however, Skylar had become as potentially dangerous to him as the moon that ruled his shape. She’d become both a distraction and a necessity in no time flat. He had to let her go and didn’t want to.

      Really didn’t want to.

      “Definitely no kissing,” Gavin said aloud to bolster his willpower.

      Over her shoulder, Skylar Donovan smiled. “Don’t be too sure about that, Harris. I’m here for a few more days.”

      Gavin took two steps backward, and then two more, his heart beating out a protest about getting into the car. His fingers curled against his palms. His muscles rippled and twitched. As absurd as it seemed given that he had known this woman for only one day...leaving Skylar Donovan was just about the hardest thing he had ever done.

      * * *

      Skylar heard the car drive out of the parking lot, and her determination to remain independent faltered. In spite of everything she’d been through, she felt forlorn and alone.

      Still, she had to admit that Harris’s behavior bordered on chivalrous. He was willing to foot the bill tonight at this motel in order to see to her safety, which meant he did believe there might be trouble out there in the dark.

      “A civilized ending to a strange night?”

      Resigned to her current fate, Skylar gave the motel a wary once-over. It was a standard two-story, U-shaped design from the fifties. The building wrapped around the parking lot on three sides, with all the rooms and doors front-facing, and two sets of stairs leading to the second-floor balcony. Most of the windows were dark. A small blue neon sign pointed to the reception area.

      Skylar went inside.

      A middle-aged woman with short blond hair, wearing a red fleece vest, greeted her from behind a counter and raised an eyebrow when Skylar mentioned Harris’s name. Gratefully, that woman kept what she might have been thinking about a woman showing up in this place on his dime, to herself.

      Handing over a key, this receptionist said, “Room twenty-one. That’s his favorite,” as if being in his favorite room mattered. She then produced an ice bucket and a glass, and looked past Skylar for the missing luggage.

      “Will you need anything else?”

      “A toothbrush would be nice.”

      Skylar smiled as though nothing were out of the ordinary about not having a purse or a toothbrush, omitting the explanation of not being able to stop at the cabin for some of life’s conveniences because a madman might show up there.

      Or a wolf that knew how to open a door.

      “Emergency amenities are on the bathroom counter,” the woman said, returning the smile with less enthusiasm and leaving Skylar to assume that Ranger Harris had more than one female fan in the area. “The room is on the second floor.”

      “Thanks.”

      Skylar climbed the stairs and waited for several minutes before attempting to go inside room twenty-one, which, like the rest of the rooms, overlooked the mostly empty parking lot. Summer was over, so tourists would be scarce. Since no lights were on, she guessed she might have this floor to herself, and dreaded that.

      She wished the ice bucket came with a bottle of wine. Suddenly ravenous, she wanted a salad and a steak. This wasn’t the kind of motel with room service, though, and since she had no wallet, dinner wasn’t in the cards. Her growling stomach would just have to suck it up and deal.

      Staring out at the lot, and up at the nearly full moon emerging from the clouds, she felt lost and slightly out of sorts. The cozy cabin stuffed with her father’s things made her feel more at home and part of something. Here, in a strange motel without her credit cards or her cell phone, she was cut off and isolated.