Read Online A Hunt By Moonlight (Werewolves and Gaslight Book 1) by Shawna Reppert - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Shawna Reppert
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among men.”
She smiled. Dear, dear Richard. How could he not see how extraordinary he truly was? “Rare enough that I’d rather not spend my life looking for another.” She laced her fingers with his. “We are together in this, love. My eccentricities and your wolf.”
***
Nearly a month passed with no resolution to the case, and on the morning of the full moon the papers said a girl had been reported missing by her employers.
That night, in wolf form, Richard sat on his haunches in the shadow of Scotland Yard, waiting. He used to dread the change when he'd had no choice, ashamed at his descent into near-animal. But in the months that had passed since his last change, he’d forgotten how keen the night felt when every breeze carried a story written in scent and the muscles that slid beneath his skin were made for long, wild runs. And what a joy it was to run, bounding forward in great leaping strides, claws digging into soft earth.
This time, he’d chosen the change and had forgone the elixir that she brewed. His love feared for him, but she had a stronger conscience and a greater spirit than any that he knew, and she had given him her blessing.
Catherine had improved her formula over the last year, so that he didn’t have to start taking it until the day of the full moon, allowing for this last-minute decision. If the missing girl was not yet dead, then her life could depend on his wolf senses this night.
Richard was not the only one of his kind abroad—he caught the scent of a female on heat maybe a half-mile distant with another male in close attendance. A few streets over, a fish-and-chips shop dispensed its wares alongside one that dealt in sheep’s trotters and another that sold sausages. A horseless carriage rolled past, sleek black and gleaming chrome, billowing steam. His nose stung from the smoke of the coal-fire that boiled the water. His sharp wolf ears caught the hum of a dirigible moving high above the cloud-cover.
Richard still had misgivings about accepting the transformation. The last time he had changed, the wolf had taken over. Bone and sinew crushed between his jaws, hot, human blood in his mouth. Richard’s stomach lurched at the memory. The hysterical public insisted that a ’wolf who had killed would develop an uncontrollable lust for mayhem and murder. In his case, they couldn’t be further from the mark.
He could not regret what happened that night, as it saved Catherine’s life. But he never, ever wanted it to happen again.
It was well after moonrise, and the light still burned in Jones’ office window. He certainly could not fault Jones his dedication to his job. Richard couldn’t imagine a less efficient method of engineering a meeting than sitting in the shadow of the Yard and waiting for the man to come down. But to send a note ahead would have given the man concrete proof of what Richard tacitly admitted by being here.
“Hey, you! What are you up to? No good, I’ll warrant.” A constable leaving the Yard stalked toward him, billy club raised. “Get off, or I’ll have you locked up.”
Richard broke no laws merely by being here, in wolf form or otherwise. But as long as he was in wolf form, the law would scarcely matter. Werewolves who stood up for themselves always met bad ends. At the least he would be locked up until dawn brought transformation. Even if he wasn't recognized, he would have to identify himself before they released him. He’d be forever ruined, as would Catherine by mere association, and their marriage would be impossible.
He flattened his ears and dropped to his belly in a display of submission that even a human should understand, and then he slunk off, cowering from someone who would scarcely dare to address him if he were his human self. Around the corner and out of the sight of the bully, he stopped, a sub-vocal growl of frustration vibrating in his throat. From this direction, the wind was all wrong. It wouldn’t carry Jones’ scent
She smiled. Dear, dear Richard. How could he not see how extraordinary he truly was? “Rare enough that I’d rather not spend my life looking for another.” She laced her fingers with his. “We are together in this, love. My eccentricities and your wolf.”
***
Nearly a month passed with no resolution to the case, and on the morning of the full moon the papers said a girl had been reported missing by her employers.
That night, in wolf form, Richard sat on his haunches in the shadow of Scotland Yard, waiting. He used to dread the change when he'd had no choice, ashamed at his descent into near-animal. But in the months that had passed since his last change, he’d forgotten how keen the night felt when every breeze carried a story written in scent and the muscles that slid beneath his skin were made for long, wild runs. And what a joy it was to run, bounding forward in great leaping strides, claws digging into soft earth.
This time, he’d chosen the change and had forgone the elixir that she brewed. His love feared for him, but she had a stronger conscience and a greater spirit than any that he knew, and she had given him her blessing.
Catherine had improved her formula over the last year, so that he didn’t have to start taking it until the day of the full moon, allowing for this last-minute decision. If the missing girl was not yet dead, then her life could depend on his wolf senses this night.
Richard was not the only one of his kind abroad—he caught the scent of a female on heat maybe a half-mile distant with another male in close attendance. A few streets over, a fish-and-chips shop dispensed its wares alongside one that dealt in sheep’s trotters and another that sold sausages. A horseless carriage rolled past, sleek black and gleaming chrome, billowing steam. His nose stung from the smoke of the coal-fire that boiled the water. His sharp wolf ears caught the hum of a dirigible moving high above the cloud-cover.
Richard still had misgivings about accepting the transformation. The last time he had changed, the wolf had taken over. Bone and sinew crushed between his jaws, hot, human blood in his mouth. Richard’s stomach lurched at the memory. The hysterical public insisted that a ’wolf who had killed would develop an uncontrollable lust for mayhem and murder. In his case, they couldn’t be further from the mark.
He could not regret what happened that night, as it saved Catherine’s life. But he never, ever wanted it to happen again.
It was well after moonrise, and the light still burned in Jones’ office window. He certainly could not fault Jones his dedication to his job. Richard couldn’t imagine a less efficient method of engineering a meeting than sitting in the shadow of the Yard and waiting for the man to come down. But to send a note ahead would have given the man concrete proof of what Richard tacitly admitted by being here.
“Hey, you! What are you up to? No good, I’ll warrant.” A constable leaving the Yard stalked toward him, billy club raised. “Get off, or I’ll have you locked up.”
Richard broke no laws merely by being here, in wolf form or otherwise. But as long as he was in wolf form, the law would scarcely matter. Werewolves who stood up for themselves always met bad ends. At the least he would be locked up until dawn brought transformation. Even if he wasn't recognized, he would have to identify himself before they released him. He’d be forever ruined, as would Catherine by mere association, and their marriage would be impossible.
He flattened his ears and dropped to his belly in a display of submission that even a human should understand, and then he slunk off, cowering from someone who would scarcely dare to address him if he were his human self. Around the corner and out of the sight of the bully, he stopped, a sub-vocal growl of frustration vibrating in his throat. From this direction, the wind was all wrong. It wouldn’t carry Jones’ scent
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