Morgan Hawke - Snow Moon - Unnatural Appetites.pdf
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Phantasy
– One Erotic Tale from Phantasmagoria -
For your Individual Pleasure.
Copyright © 2003 Morgan Hawke
ISBN: 1-55410-020-8
Cover art and design by Martine Jardin
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the
reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in
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Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya
Publications, 2003
Look for us online at:
www.zumayapublications.com
www.Extasybooks.com
Morgan Hawke
Snow Moon
Unusual Appetites
Also for Dughal
he werewolf watched the ponderous steel-colored
clouds in the sky. Stepping from his battered red
jeep, the werewolf lifted his nose delicately sifting
the air for her fragrance.
T
She wasn’t here.
Shit.
This was the third week in a
row he’d sought her out at the club
Gothic Noire,
and
she wasn’t here.
Night would be falling in an hour, but the snow-
laden clouds washed everything with a muted gray
light that defied the coming darkness. From the scent
that floated on the breeze, there would be snow
tonight. There was going to be a lot of snow, and
soon.
The rising wind broke a small hole in the clouds
and he glimpsed the waxing moon floating in the
encroaching twilight. It was more than half full with a
bright shimmering ring of light encircling it. A Snow
Moon, he’d heard it called. The hole in the clouds
closed, hiding the moon away.
Closing his eyes, he concentrated, shutting out the
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Snow Moone: Unusual Appetites
odors of rubber, metal and gasoline as he stood
amongst all the cars crammed in the parking lot. He
closed his mind to all other human scents except for
the perfume he sought; baby-powder and woman, his
woman. His steps brought him to where her vehicle
had been parked. An old Mazda sat in the space, but
her pick-up truck had sat here, briefly and not too
long ago.
Ah, a trace,
he thought. The scent was an hour old
but she had been here, then left. His brows dipped in
thought.
I guess it’s time to hunt the old-fashioned way.
A
warm flush of anticipation raced through him. He
was finally going to see Heather again. Tonight.
He strode back to his jeep and shrugged out of his
leather duster, then peeled off his T-shirt. The air was
below freezing, but only the nip of the wind-chill
registered. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he pulled off his
boots and socks. Yanking the thong from his hair, the
loosened waves slid down his muscular back, but did
nothing to keep the frostiness of the wind from his
flesh.
He closed and locked the jeep, stashing the key
behind the front tire. Naked but for his leather pants,
he looked sharply about with eyes that saw better in
the dark than in daylight. There was no one watching,
not even a car on the street driving by.
Good.
On the hardened soles of his bare feet, he jogged to
a stand of trees and bushes in the next parking lot and
hunkered down. Searching within, he felt for the
sleeping power humming just below the surface. It
uncurled from the base of his skull and swept over
him in a wave of warmth and fierce joy. He felt the
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Morgan Hawke
stretch and pull of muscle and sinew as his body
shimmered from one moment to the next into another
form.
A large rangy wolf in full winter coat of gray and
white trotted out from the bushes. Nose to the
pavement, the wolf cast about the parking lot for the
trail he sought. To the wolf’s nose, far more sensitive
than in his man-form, the trace of the female’s
perfume became as clear and bright as neon. Head
lifting, the wolf set off in a ground-eating lope to
follow the aroma from the side of the road, tracking
her scent by the vehicle she was driving. Time became
meaningless in the now of wolf-thought.
* * * *
Under the harsh light of the meat department in the
grocery store, Heather found herself entranced by the
sweet smell of blood and raw flesh. She swallowed as
her mouth watered from the scent even as her
thoughts twisted away from her body’s sensual
reaction. Want, hunger and desire all fought for
dominance. Her mind flinched away as she realized
that her panties were getting wet with eagerness even
as her stomach cramped with appetite.
She stared unblinkingly at the plastic-wrapped ten
pound beef eye roast on the refrigerated shelf before
her. With trembling fingers, she shoved her long,
silver blonde ponytail off her shoulder. Hunger
clawed at her belly as she reached out with both
hands to pick up the heavy piece of meat.
“Outta my way, I’m takin’ that,” said a rough
3
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