Phantasy– One Erotic Tale from Phantasmagoria - For your Individual Pleasure. Copyrightã2003 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 part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2003 Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com www.extasybooks.com Snow Moon Unnatural Appetites Also for Dughal The 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. She wasn’t here.Shit. This was the third week in a row he’d sought her out at the clubGothic 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 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 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 masculine voice. The rancid stink of sour beer breath washed over her. Heather saw a gnarled hand reach for her prize. Glancing over her shoulder Heather saw an older, rough-looking man wearing a stained ball-cap and a battered coat, gripping a grocery cart loaded with snacks and beer. Her lips pulled away from her teeth, a snarl boiling up from her as she eyed the threat to her food. “Mine!” she snapped, barely able to speak. Lunging, she snatched the chilled meat from the shelf, then turned away to hunch possessively around it. From slitted eyes, she watched the man snatch his hand back in alarm. “I want that for my family, bitch!” he snapped, baring his own blackened teeth. She could smell the rot on his breath from where she stood. He stepped away from his cart and took a menacing step toward her. A deep animal growl rumbled from Heather’s chest. She gripped the roast hard, her fingers digging deeply through the plastic and into chilled flesh. If he tried to take her meat from her, she would…I will bite him.The thought shocked her, and pleased her. “I think the little lady wants it for herself, mister,” a familiar masculine voice spoke calmly from behind Heather. “Why don’t you have this other one on the shelf?” Heather whirled to face the new threat, teeth bared, a growl still rumbling. She snapped briefly out of her feral haze, staring in astonishment. “It’s okay, Princess, no one’s going to take your food.” The werewolf smiled as he watched Heather’s blue eyes widen in recognition. Heather was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. It was her seducer from the Goth club. He towered over her, two steps away, green eyes merry with humor. His long raven hair, pulled back in a tail, hung over his shoulder rakishly. A long, black leather coat swept the tops of his weather-beaten boots. His personal aroma of worn leather from his duster, soap and potent male musk rolled over her in a wave, and she took an unconscious step closer to him. A powerful surge of memory tinged with lust washed over Heather. Images and sensations crashed through her mind of his hands on her breasts, his flesh buried within her, screaming as she came in his arms. She choked from the visceral strength. Wait a minute…I’m pissed at him. He abandoned me at the club without telling me his name!She cautiously stepped back. She watched as his eyes narrowed slightly as he breathed in.He’s smelling me! * * * * The werewolf noted her perfume of well-worn flannel, baby powder, soap and aroused female. He was obscenely happy to discover that she didn’t carry the odor of another male. She had fucked no one since their wild coupling upstairs at the Goth club. However, she had not gone back to the club, and succeeded in avoiding him for weeks. Finally his need to see her again had driven him to hunt her down. He’d been dumbfounded when he had trailed her scent today to the parking lot of a grocery store in his own territory; he lived only a few miles away. then he noted a familiar undercurrent of musk and blood, a scent as familiar as his own. “Who asked you? Shit for brains!” interrupted the grizzled man. “Hey, you stupid bitch, I said, I wanted that one for my family!” The werewolf felt a whisper of power in the air. He watched in dismay as Heather’s blue eyes abruptly bled into green, and suddenly blazed golden with inhuman feral fury.Well, shit, he thought.I think I may have fucked up. * * * * Heather snapped around to look back at the older man, and tensed to attack. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck and the down on her arms rising.One more step and he’s dead meat. Her lips pulled hard back from teeth that were starting to ache. She felt a flare of heat at the base of her skull, then a bolt of fire raced down her spine. The drunk raised his fist. “You want some of me, bitch?” * * * * The werewolf raised his brow.Where the hell is this guy’s instinct for survival? Briefly, he entertained thoughts on letting Heather take a hunk out of the brainless drunk. It might do the old lush a world of good to have a limb amputated by someone half his size. He sighed.Thenagain, I really don’t need another idiot toting a shotgun full of silver in my territory. Hmm, decisions, decisions… The werewolf took a step closer to the drunk. “I said, this one is hers.” The werewolf’s voice, though reasonable, deepened to a bass rumble. “You can have the other.” He leveled his gaze at the old man, squaring his shoulders and standing his full height. The power of imminent change poured off of his skin, whispering around him like a cloak. He felt the shimmer of power and knew that the depth of his eyes had flared the gold of the beast within. He stared down at the older man with a slight smile, then took a single threatening step. With some satisfaction, the werewolf watched the man freeze in place. Eyes wide, the drunk’s mouth fell open and his face blanched to a sickly gray. The sour sweat stench of fear wafted from him. Hmm, I guess the idiot does have some idea of the danger he’s in,the werewolf muse...
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