Page 62 of Marked By Moonlight

“You’re alone,” the female in red stated.

Claire nodded. “I’m looking for someone.”

“And who would that be?” she asked.

At this, Claire hedged.

“Who turned you?” the leader asked, his voice smooth as silk.

Claire’s gaze locked with his, recognizing at once that he understood. He knew she sought the alpha responsible for her curse. “A boy named Lenny.”

“I don’t know him. Careless of him to turn you and then leave you to your own devices. Lycans are careful at initiating into our pack.”

“Yes,” the female chimed in with a sneer. “We don’t let any trash off the streets join us.”

“Come, Bianca,” the leader chided. “Be hospitable. Our lovely friend here is one of us now and she appears to be in need of guidance.”

“I’m not one of you.” Claire slid her hand inside her purse and curled her fingers around the gun.

“Is that what you think?” The leader’s kind smile turned almost cruel then. “Pity. We shall have to convince you, then.”

“Join us.” Bianca stretched out her hand. Claire stared at that slender hand with its perfectly manicured nails and a strange sense of detachment settled over her.

Something cold and evil glittered in the female’s steel gaze. Malevolence shadowed the curve of her mouth, and Claire knew there wasn’t anything friendly about her.

The newest member to the trio growled his impatience. “Enough talk.” He smoothed a hand over his slicked-back hair,fingers sliding down the dark length of his tight ponytail with an anxious energy. “Let’s take her and show her what it means to be a lycan.”

Claire’s skin crawled as she watched him run his tongue over fleshy lips.Take her.She knew he meant more than coercing her to join their pack. Instantly, Claire marked him the wild card. The impatient one.

He started toward her, his silver gaze glowing brilliantly, startling and otherworldly against his swarthy face.

Gideon, where are you?

Unwilling to wait any longer, she slid the gun from her purse, flexing her fingers around the textured grip, cold and abrasive in her hand.

The beefy lycan paused, staring in confusion at her gun before his lips peeled back into a feral grin. He shook his head slowly, wagging a long, thick-nailed finger.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he said as if they played a game, as if she weren’t serious, as if she didn’t have every intention of blowing a hole through his black heart if he took one more step. “First rule of the pack is to stick together.”

“I’m not of your pack.”

“A lone female—breeding as you are,” the leader inserted. “You have to belong to a pack. It might as well be ours. Accept what you are. There is no other choice. You are one of us. You can’t undo it.”

His words hit her hard, as no blow could.

The brawny lycan continued his advance.

“Stop.” Her thumb pulled back the hammer, the grinding click loud on the air. “I mean it,” she warned, her finger curled around the trigger.

She aimed at his chest and shook her head side to side in determined avowal. “I swear to God I’ll shoot.”

The leader’s voice continued, rolling over her, seductive andmesmerizing, softening her will. “Everything’s confusing right now. We can make things easier. Come with us. We’ll show you how incredible life can be.”

“I’m not one of you,” she muttered in a harsh whisper. Jamming her eyes shut, she squeezed the trigger. The gun bucked in her hands. The acrid smell of cordite stung her nostrils.

She peeked one eye open, then the other. The brawny lycan stood frozen, rooted in place just inches from her. He looked down at his chest and back to her face in shock.

She watched as he toppled to the ground. She felt no rush of victory. Only shock. She had killed someone—no, not someone. She had destroyed a lycan. Yet it was hard to remember the distinction as the silver faded like a wisp of smoke from his eyes, leaving a very mortal shade of brown behind.

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