Page 55 of Taken by Moonlight
Warmth filled me as I imagined them undressing me, taking care to tuck me in and kiss me good-night. Too bad I didn’t remember a thing. Then again, if I had been awake, I would not have gotten any rest lastnight.
Dante was quiteconsiderate.
“Where’s Dante? AndAlex?”
“Dante is out on the range, inspecting some fence posts that needed mending. Alex is upstairs in his office, catching up on work. He’s always on thatcomputer.”
He gestured to the kitchen. “I’m giving you the tour this morning. Ah, this is thekitchen.”
“Thanks, big guy. I never would have knownthat.”
Gabriel leaned in and gave me a hard, quick kiss. “I love yoursnark.”
Then he cupped and squeezed my bottom. “Just as much as I lovethis.”
“The tour?” I reminded him. “I’m not ready for sex on the counter.Yet.”
“Too bad.” He sighed. “Okay, the kitchen. We cook the main meals here, and the pack eats together once a week, on Sundays. That’s a requirement. There’s usually picnics and barbecues on Saturdays, but everyone’s schedules on the ranch are different, so it’s hard to assemble all of us. Sunday nights are thebest.”
I glanced around, trying to see dozens of werewolves milling about the kitchen. “Where does everyone live?Here?”
He shook his head. “Most of the pack have cabins or cottages nearby, some in the woods, some in the open meadow. But not far from here, so they can be at the lodge quickly if needed. Single males sleep at the bunk house near the barn. They’re the cowboys needed for round-ups, herding the cattle, tending thehorses.”
It sounded normal, like a working ranch, except for shifters. “What do you like to eat here fordinner?”
He shrugged. “The usual. Steak, chicken, lots of meat, because we’reshifters.”
I wondered about the scent of fresh cookies. A blue ceramic jar sat on the counter. I went for a closer look and my stomach musclestightened.
Human remains, read the chalklabel.
Gabriel grabbed it, his face turning red. “Uh, it’s a joke, Peyton. A joke someone played when they wrote on thelabel.”
He opened it. Inside were chocolate chip cookies. “See?”
Funny. Ha,ha.
“Want one?” Sweat popped out on his forehead. Interesting. I didn’t know werewolvessweated.
“No, thanks. Lost my appetite.” I took a long sniff. Smelled like chocolate chip, freshlybaked.
The baker had an odd sense of humor. “Does everyone in your pack label have the same sense ofhumor?”
Gabriel wiped his forehead with a paper towel and pitched it into the trash. “No, it’s Felicia. She baked this morning. She’s…different.”
Footsteps sounded outside the kitchen, staccato and brisk. “And speak of the little demon,” hemuttered.
Gabriel nodded as the girl scampered into the kitchen. She looked all of fifteen and had a restless, nervousenergy.
“Hey Felicia. You know what Dante said about writing on the jars. Beaccurate.”
She pouted. “I was havingfun.”
“Be accurate. No jokes like that,” he warned. “Felicia this is Peyton. Peyton,Felicia.”
Felicia had short, bouncy dark brown hair, gray eyes and a round face. She ground to a halt, neared me and sniffed my clothing. Not certain what to do, I stayedstill.
“Felicia, don’t get too close,” Gabriel chastised. “She’s a human psi. Not used tous.
