HIS MOON

by monochromemonotone

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SYNOPSIS

Kaia's life is a prison. Ever since her mom was murdered, her dad hardly ever lets her out of the house, even going so far as to homeschool her. Not to mention how he keeps secrets from her; according to him, it's too dangerous for Kaia to leave the house, but strangely it isn't for her brother, Cole.

But, why? Because, though Kaia doesn't know it, the woods are full of werewolves, and Kaia's scent is particularly mouth watering. The second she steps too far into the woods, they can smell her...

And only one Alpha can protect her from the wolves that want to taste her blood. The secret world of the lycanthrope is Kaia's destiny, and who better to meet it with than her mate Especially when his heart is just as dark as hers, if not more so.

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EXCERPT

Kaia had been told in the past that she was lovely. She had skin so perfectly pale and creamy she seemed a princess, locked in her tower, never having seen the sun. She was tall, thin, delicate, with long, platinum hair that fell in soft whispers around her generous chest. Beyond pretty, her face carried echoes of her mother's exotic heritage, with large, dark doe eyes that stood out on her face and full lips that looked like they should always be spinning fantastic tales. Her slightly unusual features were one of the few things she'd gotten from her mom, as well as a habit of tilting her head to the side just right, her eyes narrowing, which made her seem mysterious, clever.

But, standing in front of the mirror then, she could only think that she looked like a pathetic wet dog. There was a hauntingly empty look about her under the moonlight, the usual spark in her eyes missing. She looked like a ghost of herself. Yes, she was beautiful, but in a bedraggled sort of manner; she had lost so much, and anyone looking at her know would be able to tell.

But, Kaia remembered as tingles danced around her pale skin...that's not how he saw her.

In his eyes, she glowed. The wet tendrils of her hair, stuck to her shoulders and her shivering chest, looked like silver rivers gloriously falling down between her breasts. Her pale, milky skin was like a canvas, just waiting for him to paint it with his dark colors. To him, she was the moon. To him, she was so agonizingly tempting, maybe even dangerously so. If he were to reach out and touch her with just the tips of his fingers, he doubted he'd be able to stop again.

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Read the rest of His Moon here!

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