Moonlight Captivation [Moon Shadows Book 1] Read online

  "What do you mean, I'm pregnant!” Nessa's voice bordered on the hysterical.

  "Up the duff, bun in the oven, with child, expecting, knocked up."

  "Thank you, Mr. Walking Thesaurus!” Nessa snapped.

  "Honey, I'm always here to help...ooh, I'm going to be an uncle.” He clapped his hands together excitedly.

  "You're a pain in the ass."

  "Oh God, I hope so. Have you seen the new doctor on staff? Mmmmm-mmm, scrumptious, I'd like to be the pain in his ass."

  Nessa sat up, grabbing onto Darren's white uniform. “Darren, there is no way I can be pregnant. I was told I'm sterile."

  "Well, sweetie, you've just proved every medic you saw is a quack, unlike me, a true professional, so...” Darren leaned in closer, “...who's the lucky daddy?"

  Still not believing it possible, she could only think of one candidate.

  "Oh God, it can't be Larry.” She groaned, covering her eyes with her hand.

  "The knucklehead, I'll-bone-anything-that-breathes Larry? It's only been three days since you caught him doing I'll-fuck-anyone-who-has-two-dollars-slut neighbor."

  "I know, but it's been three weeks since we had sex, and we always used condoms—Larry insisted on it. Auntie Flow visited just last week!"

  Darren gasped horror.

  "A three-week dry spell? Oh, honey. Well, condoms aren't foolproof, as you now know, and you can still get bleeding spots when you're pregnant."

  "Oh God, this can't be happening.” Nessa dropped her head into her hands.

  Darren sighed. “Honey, I'll go get an ultrasound ordered for you as soon as possible. The doctor can determine when the little miracle was conceived. In the meantime, go home and get some rest."

  "Darren?” Nessa grabbed her best friend's hand, panic suddenly gripping her. “You won't abandon me, will you?"

  "You kidding, Nessa? I'm stuck on you like glue, honey. We'll get through this and raise the little hellion together. Big Uncle Darren, hmm...I like the sound of that."

  Nessa smiled. “Thanks, Darren, you're the best."

  "Oh, I know—just make sure you spread the knowledge around a bit more. I can't get pregnant, but I can sure have fun trying.” He gave her a Darren-knows-best grin. “Off with you now. I'll come by and check on you when I knock off work tonight."

  Nessa climbed down from the examination table and gave him a hug.

  Deep in the bowels of the Lower Realm...

  Cowering, Fernos of Gorlon inclined his head, simpering toward his mistress. His skin still sizzled from the scorching blow she landed on him in her rage. Jezebel, Great Demoness and queen of her domain, flicked back her silken, dark green robe, shimmering in the dimly lit cavern.

  "You let a potential Chosen One live!” Jezebel screeched. She did not like raising her voice, and doing so enraged her all the more. “I give you one simple task and you can't even complete that! I should kill you where you stand."

  Ever since one of her informants told her the time of the Chosen One was drawing near, she decided to make a pre-emptive strike and kill this supposed Chosen One before the prophecy could come to pass and end her plans for domination of the Outer and Human Realms. Using the possible age and description of a mortal woman, who may have been Chosen, she'd sent Fernos, one of her most vicious tracking demons, to kill the Chosen One. She didn't care if any innocents were killed in the process; they were only casualties of the cause—her cause.

  "Mercy, my Queen, allow me one more chance to prove my worth. Many women have already died by my claws—any of those could have been the Chosen One. My Queen, prophecies are always unclear. It was never guaranteed she was the right one."

  Jezebel swiveled on her dais, glaring at Gremlock, her second-in-command—the one she charged to do all her killing when she didn't feel bothered to take part in the perverse pleasure herself.

  "Neman came before I could kill her, my Queen. He has been hunting me,” the Gorlon Kat demon hissed.

  "You left her near Neman? Get back there and kill this woman. I don't care if I have to destroy every last woman on Earth—I want this Chosen One dead. I will not spare you a second time, Fernos!” She knew, if this prophecy came to pass, she'd be out on her ass. Jezebel's hunger for power and wealth was too great to allow that to happen.

  Slazzamar the Sneak came striding into the chamber, stopping just before the stairs of Jezebel's throne, curiously watching Fernos simper away. “My Queen.” Slazzamar bowed, with an overly dramatic sweep of his arm.

  "You had better be bringing me good news, Slazzamar."

  "Very good, if you're willing to pay.” His violet eyes were rimmed with red, and his white hair shimmered down his back.

  Jezebel knew his price. It was a small one for his continued information and service to her. So far, his information about the prophecy proved more valuable than her own network of spies.

  "Leave us now.” She snapped the order, in a tone no one under her command would dare disobey.

  Demons scrambled out like rodents. Slazzamar stayed where he was until the last one scurried out. He approached her. “I bring news of Neman and the woman you seek."

  Jezebel walked around her throne to the entrance to her chambers. Slazzamar followed.

  "It seems the mating has already taken place and Neman knows the whereabouts of the Chosen One."

  "Then my attempt to find the woman, before she was implanted, has failed. I will now have to destroy her, before the child is born.” Jezebel was enraged at the failure of her servants.

  "That will not be easy, as he has read the prophesied scrolls and knows. No doubt, he will protect her until she delivers, and then, you're pretty much screwed."

  "Then you will find her and report to me. I will see to her destruction. You can name any price, Slazzamar."

  The demon elf grinned, stepping closer to her and running his hand down the side of her arm.

  She endured it, as it was a part of the price Slazzamar wanted for his services. Male or female, it didn't matter to this pathetic creature. Slazzamar loved to fuck.

  "You know, Jezebel, if Neman ever finds out you're the one who stole his powers, what's the human expression? ‘Your ass will be in a sling.'” He sniffed at her neck, as his hands roamed over her ass.

  "That is none of your concern, Slazzamar."

  "I will find the woman and I will think about what I want. For now, I want you to go over to the bed—I want your ass this time."

  Jezebel lifted her skirt and complied with a smile. Slazzamar was a skilled lover and his touch wasn't repulsive. After all, she was Jezebel, she had not earned her reputation by selling candy to children.

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  Chapter 4

  Sniffing the late-evening air, Neman scented Vanessa before he caught sight of her walking down the sidewalk. Tight, blue shirt, stretched across her beautifully ample breasts, she shifted the paper shopping bags in her arms. The shirt separated from the denim miniskirt she wore. As he glimpsed her bare midriff, all it took was the smell of her and he wanted her again. To Neman, she was a true beauty, the fading sunlight picking up streaks of natural gold and copper in the long wavy hair falling down her back.

  He remembered the sweet, pale thighs wrapped around him as he took her repeatedly. Neman's fingers itched, his mouth watered to taste her again. If he had more than his basic powers, he would have been able to sense if she were carrying his child or not. Now, he needed to find out with more straightforward methods. He wondered if she even knew of the possibility. Neman doubted it, considering how inebriated she had been a few nights ago.

  He leaned against his Ducati ST3—the bike he'd teleported from the States—as it was the best mode of transport to use in the Sydney streets. He pondered his next course of action. If anyone suspected she could be the “Chosen One,” then he'd have no choice but to protect her. By now, Slazzamar would have told anyone and everyone he knew who the Chosen One was, the little rat bastard.

  Neman cursed the fat
es, understanding the little scent trick they used to make her irresistible. Somewhere along the line, they anointed him. There was no real way to tell how or when—it could have happened anytime, as an anointing could stay with a person, dormant, until they met the one for whom they were anointed. With Neman's long history, it could have happened at any time in the past six thousand years. Anger boiled up inside him at being used like this. He would need to have a serious talk with Manuan, God of Fate and Destiny, the next time he saw him. Though he was a tricky bastard to get hold of, for he always knew when you wanted to see him. Neman turned his attention back to the woman across the street.

  An angry expression crossed Vanessa's face as she stared at a car in one of the parking spaces, right before her face morphed into a menacing grin. Swiftly setting down her bags, she rummaged through one of them. Neman watched curiously, while she produced a large potato. She walked around to the back of a red, Alpha Camaro and shoved the vegetable up the exhaust pipe, kicking it in deep, so it lodged firmly. With a satisfied humph, she collected her bags and went inside the tall apartment block.

  Neman made a note to himself to keep her away from his cars. The woman was clearly crazy. Pushing away from his bike, Neman followed her inside. This was another moment in his life when he didn't have a plan. As he started up the stairs, a man's voice rang through the stairwell—loudly cursing.

  "You stupid, fat bitch!” This was followed by a loud crash of what sounded like glass.

  Neman's heart pounded; had someone already found her? Neman raced up the stairs, burst into her apartment, and darted to the side to avoid a flying glass. Narrowly missing his head, it shattered on the wall behind him. He blinked in confusion. Vanessa had two figurines in her hand. A short, skinny man leaned forward, waiting for an opportunity to launch himself at her. Neman reacted, grabbing the man before he could jump, and pinned him to the wall by his throat. The man's eyes bulged, as he clawed at Neman's hand and struggled to breathe.

  "Whoa, baby! Where did you come from?” Nessa dropped the objects, a pink Hello Kitty cat and a small nodding Buddha.

  "Did he harm you?” Neman demanded. “I will kill him without even a second thought, if he has dared harm you."

  "Hey, Mr. Chippendale, put him down. He may be a lying, cheating bastard, but he doesn't deserve to die."

  He felt the heat of Vanessa's soft hand on his arm, her electrified touch surging through him. Neman dropped the weasel of a man and he crumpled to the ground. Neman turned on Vanessa; her blue eyes held concern mixed with a hint of fear. Her close proximity made him want to pull her into his arms to kiss her breathless. She took a deep breath then, her nostrils flaring, her eyes widening with sudden shock and she hastily backed away from him. It was good to know she was as affected by him, as he was by her.

  "Holy crap, you smell like chocolate!"

  "Remember me, now, do you?” He gave her a seductive smile. “You still smell like strawberries and vanilla."

  Her blue eyes widened further, as she swallowed deeply.

  "I'm calling the cops.” The weasel pulled himself to his feet. “Throw both your asses in jail."

  Vanessa glanced past him to the weasel. “Larry, get out!” she yelled, glaring at the man.

  "This weasel is your boyfriend?” An unfamiliar surge of jealousy ran through Neman.

  "Yes!"

  "No!” they both snapped in unison.

  "Ex-boyfriend and complete asshole. He is trespassing."

  "I came to collect my belongings."

  "All of your crappy shit is now out in the dumpster out back,” she hissed at the weasel.

  "Why you no good bitc—"

  Before he could complete the sentence, Neman pinned him again. Irrational rage boiled to the surface; this man had touched her before he did. Neman was certain no man would ever touch her again—he would see to it.

  "You ever insult, look at, or even breathe in her direction again, I know more than a hundred ways to kill you, slowly and painfully.” Neman grabbed the little weasel by the scruff of the neck, propelling him toward the door, and throwing him out before slamming it shut, then sliding the bolt into place.

  "What did you ever see in a weasel like that?” Neman turned back to Vanessa.

  "A moment of desperate insanity, which will never happen again!"

  Her gaze swept him from head to toe and back again. He saw awe, wonder and desire in her eyes. She took a step forward, then retreated.

  "I'm not going to hurt you, Vanessa.” He kept his tone calm. When he moved closer to her, she backed up farther, and the back of her legs caught on the white coffee table in the center of the room. Unbalanced, she started to topple backwards. Neman darted forward, catching her before she fell, and tugging her securely into his arms. Instantly, white-hot desire for her overruled all his other senses. The warmth of her body, the sweetness of her breath, coming in rapid little pants, the feeling of her pulse accelerating, all made his body burn for her. One of her hands gripped his biceps, while the other pressed against his chest, feeling his own rapid heartbeat. He wanted her again, right now.

  "Y-you're the one who left those marks on my...my..."

  Neman smiled watching her blush so beautifully. “On your gloriously, perfect body. Are they still there? Can I see?” Watching as his husky tone sent a shiver washing over her body, she blinked. The rapid change of expression was amazing to watch.

  "Hold the phone! You took advantage of me when I was drunk,” she accused, but made no attempt to struggle or pull out of his arms.

  "Sweetness, I do not remember you complaining. Besides, it was you who took advantage of me, I simply went along for the ride, and what a ride it was. A ride I wish to repeat."

  What was better than ditching a cheating ex-boyfriend? Revenge sex with the best-looking man on the planet! As he held her in two strong, powerful arms, she could see his muscles bulging beneath the black of his shirt. Oh boy, did it feel good. The drool factor for this guy was off the charts. Move over, Hugh Jackman—this man was beyond beautiful. High masculine cheekbones, strong square jawline and his chin, he had a cute little dimple in the middle.

  Nessa could easily imagine flicking her tongue over it; she could nibble and explore his face for hours on end. His dark, tanned skin had the most ethereal gleam to it, calling her to run her tongue over every dip and hollow of his body. She could spend months, even years, simply touching and tasting. Black, shoulder-length, lustrous hair...she itched to run her fingers through it, though she already knew it would feel soft and silky.

  Nessa's libido was in a tailspin, her nipples reacting as if they already knew him and were begging for a reunion with those sensual, masculine lips. Golden eyes, which tilted up slightly, gave him an extra exotic aura, a touch of the dark and dangerous, barely suppressed below the surface. Those eyes she remembered—golden eyes, which looked at her as if she were his next meal to devour. Nessa cleared her throat, making some attempt to clear her lust-drunken brain.

  "You know, I'm not drunk anymore.” Who cares? Kiss him, lick him, touch him!

  "Even better—this time you will remember everything we do."

  Yippee! both body and mind chimed in. Nessa swallowed at his sensual promise. He had a slight accent Nessa couldn't quite place.

  "I don't even know you.” Shut up, stupid brain! Her body screamed to be reacquainted with the sexiest man on the globe. He chuckled; he smelled oh so good. Now she knew where the chocolate smell came from. If ever she'd had a new addiction, it was him all over her. Oh, she wanted to be covered in it again. But there was something else nagging at the back of her still-functioning brain.

  "Why did you come back? I mean, there may have been no chance of me ever remembering you."

  "Would you believe I couldn't stop thinking about you?” She didn't believe it, and that was the problem—what godlike man really wanted a plump, plain girl like her? Though the look in his eyes said he did.

  "Only if you had post-it notes stuck on your forehead
with my name on them. Okay, so I'm an easy lay when drunk, that doesn't mean you're going to get lucky again.” Oh crap, now you've done it, motor mouth. Much to her body's relief, he chuckled as he pulled her tighter against him. She felt his sizable erection poking against her lower belly. Oh my God! His lips found the base of her throat, starting to work over her skin.

  "Having you one time was not enough. I came back for more—I came back for you."

  From anyone other than this golden, godlike man, those words would have sounded like a cheesy, pick-up line, but he sounded so sincere, Nessa couldn't help but believe him.

  Now she knew why some people spontaneously combusted—her internal temperature soared. Her head rolled back of its own volition. Yes, he was going to get lucky again; so was she. As she wrapped her arms up around his neck, one of his hands slid into her hair, gripping the base of her skull.

  "I know you want me, Vanessa."

  Yeah, who wouldn't? His lips vibrated against her skin. Her pussy clenched, and she was soaked. Oh yes, she wanted him desperately and wasn't about to deny it.

  "At least remind me of your name before I lose all my mental reasoning."

  She gasped when he lifted her, as if she were no heavier than a can of her favorite strawberry soda.

  "Should I call emergency services for your back?"

  "I suppose a little repetition is in order, considering your last state of, as you say, ‘mental reasoning.’ One: you are in no way heavy. Two: my name is Neman. I'm sure you'll be remembering it from now on. Three: you will be screaming it many times before we are through."

  Complete self-assurance shone in his eyes—he was not boasting, just stating a simple fact. As he carried her through to her bedroom, Nessa should have been concerned why he knew the layout of her apartment. But when his lips covered hers, claiming her mouth with his, his tongue plunging possessively into her mouth and drinking every flavor of her down, she didn't care. Boy, did he know how to kiss—every strum of his tongue, pull of his lips and grazing of his teeth told her he'd perfected it to an art. No kiss would ever again compare to this and, to think, it was only the beginning of what there was on offer. Nessa wanted the full tour of what he wanted to give; even then, she doubted it would ever be enough. Placing her on the bed, he gripped her uniform shirt, tearing the material off her body. She gasped at his strength.