Mated: A Why Choose Urban Fantasy Romance (Moonlight Inn Book 1) Read online

  WARNING

  Moonlight Inn is reverse harem, which means Lyra doesn’t have to choose between her many lovers. This book contains mature scenes.

  This book was written, produced, and edited in the UK where some spelling, grammar and word usage will vary from US English.

  Copyright © Leigh Kelsey 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the prior written permission of the author

  The right of Leigh Kelsey to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988

  http://www.leighkelsey.co.uk/

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  Cover by LSK Designs

  NOTE

  This book has been expanded, and includes the serials previously released as Mated and Hounded. It has been completely re-edited and is now a full novel. Hope you enjoy reading!

  MATED

  LYRA

  I felt the pulse, like a ripple through the world, when the church ruins imploded. I bolted upright in bed with a hiss of a filthy word, my heart pumping panic-fast blood through my veins. Shoving black hair out of my eyes, I stared out the lace curtain over my window at the flare of red light and swore again. I couldn’t tell where it was coming from, but I knew deep in my bones that it was bad news. Perfect.

  I grabbed the throwing knife from under my pillow.

  “What the actual hell—” My door flew open, followed by the body the cursing mouth belonged to. Tall, rangy, shaggy dark hair and luminous hazel eyes. Face to die for, all hollow angles and beauty, even if the rest of him looked like he’d never eaten a decent meal in his life. “Did you feel that?”

  “No,” I dead-panned, already heading into the hallway to converge with everyone else, grateful I slept in a ratty old band shirt and not naked. “I missed the ominous pulse of power and the devil-red light in the sky. The fuck do you think, Gray?”

  I rushed down the hall, my heart rate spiking at the sight of my alpha, pale light catching on his icy blond hair. His broad shoulders and wide chest blocked out the moonlight sifting in through the kitchen curtains, but the power of the moon still skated along my arms, raising hairs. I shuddered as it settled deep in my gut. Whenever the moonlight hit our skin, it enhanced our strength, our senses, and heightened the pack bond.

  It also had the wonderful side-effect of ramping my anxiety into frantic panic, my blood pounding unnaturally fast, my breathing shallow.

  Jack was already in the kitchen—the fourth wolf of our pack, a quiet, serious black man with close-shaved hair, worry-creased eyes, and bare arms so bulging that I didn’t know where to look—but I barged past him and breathed, “Cas, what is that?”

  “Not our business. Do not worry, Lyra,” Casimir responded, his Polish accent thick. He hooked a strong arm around my neck and drew me close, and I fought my instinctual response: to melt against him and sigh happily. But he was my alpha and things were … complicated. As in, I had no idea if he liked me. But he didn’t mind hugging me, that was for sure. Being in Cas’s arms was like being held by a polar bear, muscular but warm and soft. Normally that might have reassured me, but the moon’s power was making me jumpy and that red light was so close to our cottage. It was no more than a few minutes away, if that, and coming from the heart of Whitby. Bad, bad news.

  There were enough powerful, mythical fuckers in the centre of town to make me worried. Like it or not, we’d end up being drawn into whatever the fuck was going on out there. It had happened before, a millennium ago. Shifters and vampires had gone to war, and we—werewolves—had been hauled in too, siding with a pack of now-extinct fox shifters. No wolves had come out of that alive; all my pack’s family lines originated outside Whitby. All of ours did.

  Glancing around at my family, as much as they pissed me off, I couldn’t stand the thought of losing them. I’d lost so much already. Too much for me to handle some days. My chest squeezed so tight at the thought of losing my new family too and I glared to cover up the ache. And despite Cas’s words, I didn’t believe him. I thought that red sweep of power had already touched us, made itself our business, and it was only a matter of time before we were sucked into whatever shit had caused it.

  By morning, the sky was back to normal, so I put the red pulse bullshit out of my head, shoving my anxieties into a mental closet as dark and scary as the wardrobe to Narnia. Well, if Narnia was full of snarling wolves, a vicious sword dripping blood, heads rolling gruesomely away from bodies, and my parents’ sightless eyes staring at me. Memories that made the Narnia witch look like Elsa from Frozen.

  I was halfway through a shower when the door to our cottage’s only bathroom squealed open, Cas barging his way into my personal space. Not that personal space stood for much around wolves. I’d heard some werewolf lore where the magic that cursed—or gifted—us with the ability to shift could also keep our clothes in stasis until we shifted back, but if that was real I’d never seen it. I’d seen plenty of other things, including but not limited to: Gray’s flat arse, the cloud-shaped birthmark on Jack’s back, right above his dimples, and Cas’s … well, everything. And there was a lot of everything to see. If there was a special brand of magic to protect our dignity, I’d yet to find it.

  Not that I was searching very hard. Weird arses aside, changing every full moon did have its perks. Mainly seeing Cas stark naked. And watching him walk back to our cottage, the view from behind particularly appealing. I savoured those walks like a wine enthusiast savours a rare vintage.

  Now, though, I just barked out a creative insult and told him to get the hell out. I was half-asleep and showering and already late. Not even Cas could perk up my mood this morning. Plus, I really didn’t need the musical accompaniment of him pissing to enrich my shower experience.

  “Out,” I snapped. “Let me shower in peace, you bastard.”

  Alpha or not, I wasn’t afraid to yell at him.

  “There is lock on door,” he reminded me. “You didn’t use.”

  I ignored the point, even if it was relevant. “The door was closed.” I rinsed soap off my chest and shoulders, wondering if he could make out my naked body through the opaque shower curtain. Not that he’d ever look. “That should tell you to stay the hell out.”

  Cas just rumbled a laugh, shutting the door behind himself.

  I held onto my attitude as I dried and dressed and shoved my black hair into a sad attempt at a ponytail, but when Gray appeared in the hall holding the world’s largest mug of coffee, I could have kissed him. Could have and did, because I was that desperate for my caffeine intake this morning.

  “Ugh,” he spat, wiping his face free of the slobber my big, loud kiss had left on his cheek. “Thanks for that, Lyra.” He shoved his long brown hair behind his ears, gleaming hazel eyes narrowed in a scowl.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied sweetly. I spotted Cas’s blonde head through the doorway into the living room and marched into the room, plopping onto a ratty grey sofa Gray’s mum had leant us. Warmth folded around me and I sighed, sinking into the cushions, the scent of old books—Jack’s mostly—lemon disinfectant, and Cas’s own scent of pine and warm fur filling my lungs. “So. What’s going on?”

  Cas made a show of putting on the TV and watching the news thoroughly, a completely innocent look on his face. “Nothing. I told you, do not worry.”
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  “Cute, but I actually want answers. Tell me what you know.”

  “Nothing yet.”

  I grinned, a shark scenting blood. “Yet. Wherever you’re going, I’m coming with.”

  “No, you’re not.” He finally looked at me, if only to glare me into submission. I shrunk into the cushions but didn’t back down from his gaze. It was a fine line to walk but I never felt truly intimidated, and never controlled. He was my alpha, and while I couldn’t disobey an order, I could do a hell of a lot of questioning. It was a right I exercised frequently. “And I go nowhere. We stay away, safe.”

  “But it’s so close—”

  “Yes, this is why we need to stay.” The stubborn look in his eye told me he wouldn’t budge.

  I groaned in frustration, taking a long drink of the coffee Gray had made me before it went cold. “I don’t want to go anywhere near the fucked up red light. I just want to know it’s not going to come for us.”

  Cas’s gruffness melted then, showing the complete softie that hid beneath his alpha exterior. The rugged lines of his face softened, his mercury-silver eyes gentle, and the tense line of his shoulders relaxed. “I won’t let anything hurt us, Lyra.” He leant across the gap between his chair and my sofa, his hand outstretched. I fell over myself to get to that hand, holding onto his dry fingers tightly. Unlike last night, the contact eased my muscles, dimmed my worries, and Cas let out a barely audible sigh too. Fuck, that touch felt good, especially when his big fingers folded around mine, so fucking warm. For a long second, I felt safe.

  Like natural wolves, we lived in packs, and our bonds ran deep. Physical contact was a way of reinforcing those bonds, especially with our alpha. And the bond between Cas and me … I knew it would be more, one day. At least that’s what I told myself when I felt like utter shit with loneliness over loving him. He was my alpha, my friend, and he owned every square inch of my heart.

  I pulled my hand back, shaky, and downed the rest of the coffee. “Alright, I’m leaving. You’re coming to take over the Moonlight later, right?”

  He nodded, a strange look in his eye that I couldn’t interpret. “Be safe. And do not go near abbey or the church.”

  I paused on the threshold, my heart stumbling. The mug nearly slid from my hand; I caught it at the last second before it smashed on the floor. “The abbey? That’s where the pulse came from? Shit.”

  Cas nodded, watching me carefully now. Possibly because when I got pissed off or scared, I tended to lash out and kick nearby things such as doors, washing machines, cars. That was the wild animal in me.

  “Vampires?” I asked, though I didn’t really need the confirmation. “Why is it always fucking vampires with this town?”

  Cas laughed, a deep rumbling laugh that made me want to jump him and not in a violent way—in a I want to ride him like the Big One at Blackpool Pleasure Beach way. I had to look away to remember the magic pulse and the red light and the involvement of vampires. Being freaked out was safer than being turned on, especially around Casimir.

  “Wait.” I snapped my focus back to him. “How do you know this? I thought you weren’t getting involved.”

  “I’m not. Gray went out this morning—he told me.”

  “Gray,” I repeated slowly, squeezing the mug in my hands tighter. I swung around the door frame and yelled down the hall. “You treasonous bastard! I thought this was friend coffee, not bribe coffee!”

  “I love you,” he shouted from his room at the end of our one-storey cottage. “Don’t hurt me. There’s friend cookies and a friend bacon sandwich in foil on the table for you.”

  I harrumphed but he presented a thorough argument. I dumped the now-empty mug in the sink and bit into my sandwich. Salty, smoky deliciousness. “Forgiven,” I yelled at him.

  His laughter, and Cas’s, followed me out of the house.

  LYRA

  The Moonlight Inn was a squat, dingy hole-in-the-wall between a butcher’s shop and the pawn shop full of katanas, daggers, and vintage crap where I indulged my love of throwing knives whenever possible. The pub had seen better days, its hanging sign in need of a repaint and the windows thick and warped, the lintel sagging around the door. It had a distinct air around it, as if the old building was hissing, families not welcome, this place is full of criminals and beasts.

  I fucking loved this place.

  We’d bought it two years ago when I finally got my inheritance, the others pooling their savings with mine so we could afford it. It wasn’t much to look at but it was a safe space for us and other supernaturals, and it was ours. I would say it was a shame about the flat upstairs still belonging to the previous owners—a couple who liked heavy metal and wore spiked chokers despite being in their seventies, and who came down every weekend with home-made pork pies for the locals and all our pack—but it wasn’t. At all. It was bad enough sharing a space-deficit three-bedroom cottage with three male wolves; I did not want to imagine all of us squashed into a one-bed flat.

  I let myself in around the back of the pub and hung up my jacket.

  “You’re late,” Jack said, looking disapproving and grave as ever, his black eyebrows thick over sharp brown eyes and his wide mouth pressed into a thin line. I gave him the finger but set about hooking up one of the barrels that needed changing to the beer tap. Jack was alright. My bond with him was shallow compared to Gray and Cas but I still liked him. He was serious and moody but at least he wasn’t a prick. A lot of wolves could be controlling, violent assholes.

  “Take it out of my wages,” I joked. We didn’t do wages here. We all chipped in to keep the place running so we could keep up rent on the cottage. And if we had a decent week, at the end of it we’d gorge on Chinese food and lager. “What needs doing?”

  Jack reeled off a list of tasks and I got to work. I felt at home here, in the dim room with its scarred tables, the peeling banquette seating, and the floor my shoes stuck to because the various spills over the decades had combined into one master-spill that never quite dried. At the first breath of that musty-beer smell into my lungs, I could cast off my worries, the grief I’d been dragging around.

  This was my sanctuary, where not even my own memories could touch me, and certainly no outside threat could lay a finger on me. The Moonlight had never once posed even a hint of danger to me, to any of us—at least not until the doors opened, the regulars assumed their daily positions and nursed their pints, and around noon, a stranger in a snug forest-green jumper sauntered in. He might have been handsome, with a flop of dark hair and a chiselled jaw, but something about him was … off.

  Alarm bells blared in my head and I shot a look at Jack on the other side of the pub; he’d paused with his rag halfway to wiping a table. The newcomer looked between us, clearly reading in us what we sensed from him: wolf. And the feeling I got from him … he had no allegiances, no pack.

  A lone wolf in our territory? My heart pounded hard as the stranger’s eyes locked on mine. The emotion in those eyes … covetousness. Want. I went utterly still, panic raging through me.

  I couldn’t think of a way to get this wolf out of the Moonlight without injury to me, Jack, or both of us. My stomach knotted until I felt sick.

  I didn’t know what to do.

  LYRA

  Three things crossed my panic-fast mind as the lone wolf stared at me across the bar, his eyes hard and intent and his nostrils flaring.

  One, I was glad as hell I was human right now, because as a wolf I’d have been overpowered by the alpha sense coming off him. All rogues had the same sense, even if they lacked the strength of a full pack. And they were brutal. They wouldn’t stop until they got what they wanted, whether that was food, territory, or females; without the balance of a pack, something in them went wild. They’d kill and keep killing until everyone else submitted. Or there was no one left breathing.

  Two, I was both glad to be with Jack and desperate for him to leave, to get far away from this dangerous man as possible. My parents’ deaths had left me with a comp
lex about the people I cared for getting hurt. And Jack was pack, bonded to me in the way all pack mates were bound. The way my parents’ pack had been bound to them when they were all slaughtered. I’d do just about anything to keep him unharmed, as long as that anything didn’t involve being dragged away by the lone wolf.

  Three, by the way this fucker was staring at me, nostrils flaring as he inhaled my scent, he had one thing on his mind. It was pretty rare to find a female like me in this part of the UK. In London, Birmingham, and Glasgow, there were plenty werewolves of all sexes, but in Yorkshire? A handful. In Whitby? I had the dubious honour of being the only female. And this lone wolf had fixated on me, despite Jack being as big a threat as I was. Bigger, with those muscles and his quiet intensity. Which meant the wolf had come here for a mate, following my scent specifically.

  Awesome.

  This had better not be because of the red pulse of light, but the timing of this was too much of a coincidence. Without looking away from the rogue, I took my phone out of my pocket and held down the first button, sighing in relief when Cas answered instantly. The rogue stiffened at the sight of the phone as I held it to my ear and said, “There’s a lone wolf in the Moonlight. I’m pretty sure he’s here … for me.”

  “Put the phone down,” the wolf in question commanded in a voice as rough as broken glass. I tensed, hairs rising all over my body, my heart racing. I went so still my chest barely moved with my breaths.

  “Cas,” I breathed.

  “Where’s Jack?”

  I tried to answer but I couldn’t draw enough air to speak anymore and I was going dizzy with fear. My eyes had yet to be released from the stranger’s possessive stare. I’d be shaking with pure and unfiltered terror if I was brave enough to move even one muscle.