The Full Moon Games

Mom always called me a moon chaser. I always took that to mean I was a free-spirited problem child with zero direction who’d probably end up in jail for throwing an alligator through a drive-through window.

Little did I know how literal that nickname would turn out to be.

It all started on a Friday in late January. It was warm outside thanks to living in ’Merica’s wang, also known as Florida. Morning lecture was canceled. Hours to kill before my next class. What else was I to do but chug a bucket of coffee with caramel creamer and gape at pretty book covers?

I was a grown-ass woman, and I’m not afraid to admit I was practically skipping to my favorite place in the world—Alakazam Bookstore.

“Frank,” I greeted the middle-aged shopkeeper.

“Harlow.” He barely looked up from the local grunge magazine that he perused with intensity.

Alakazam opened at the butt crack of dawn so chronic book sniffers like myself could saunter in anytime and get lost in the scents of old leather covers, paper, and ink. The smells alone brought me back here again and again.

“No class today?” Frank thumbed his two-day scruff and turned the page in his magazine.

“Nope, not this morning.” I squeezed my way through more than a few teetering stacks of books that formed a maze on the floor.

Frank wasn’t what you might expect to be the owner of a quirky little store like this. He dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, typically with his favorite band on the front of it. Today’s band was Glimmer Puss written in neon green. He had long, salt-and-pepper hair that was braided down his back and full-sleeve tattoos. He was a member of the local motorcycle club and completely looked the part. He drank his coffee nightmare black, and I was convinced that his soul was even blacker, even if he was usually nice to me.

“And you thought you’d come here.” Not a question. Not even close.

“That gonna be a problem, Frank?” I side-stepped another pile on my way toward the back. “I gotta get my fix somewhere.”

“Only if you don’t read the entire book here like last time,” he called after me.

“Hey, I paid for it, didn’t I? Plus, if you don’t want people reading here, get rid of the chairs.”

He knew I was right. His loud sigh echoed slightly before the high shelves swallowed me. Then, I was alone in a steamy sea of swoony men, whip-smart heroines, and unique worlds I could drown myself in again and again.

Also known as the romance section.

Here, I would find all the love stories I couldn’t seem to land in real life.

I had just finished The Veil of Moonlight and Fangs, and I was in desperate need of the sequel.

Honestly though, I would gladly read any of these. However, right now, wolf shifter romance novels were my vice. Those that featured incredibly hot, powerful, domineering men were my favorite.

I perused the aisle, scanning each title, knowing exactly what I was looking for: The Winter of Shadows and Prey.

When my eyes landed on the title, a little gasp escaped. Yeah, there was chesty Dominic on the cover looking so fine. I snatched the book up and flipped through the pages, the words “tongue,” “hot kiss,” and “thrust” popping out from page ten onward.

“Yes!” And no, I didn’t read books just for the sex.

Fine, maybe I did. Maybe just this morning I told my enormous laundry piles, “Don’t worry. No one does me either.”

See? That’s called a valid excuse to read sex books.

“Romance, huh?” a deep male voice said.

I spun, ready to use the book like a weapon to fend off what was clearly an attacker. Instead, the book dropped from my hand and hit the floor when I came face-to-face with a tower of muscle. The guy stood before me in that typical “tall, dark, and handsome” sort of way.

Blue eyes, perfect dark hair, plush lips, shoulders to swoon over, full sleeve tattoos and hints of more curling up from underneath the collar of his black T-shirt. And that wasn’t even considering the deep rumble of his voice or the way he smelled like violets and sea spray during a thunderstorm.

I might have been drooling.

Fuck. What had I found? The god of the bookstore hiding in the back?

Something tugged sharply in my chest, an explosion of sparking nerves.

“I like a handsome book.” The words were out before I could stop them. I just stood there with my mouth hanging open, trying to swallow them all back like they were eggplants.

Eggplants? Fucking hell, Harlow! Pull your head out of your ass.

No wonder I couldn’t get laid.

“What?” He smiled in a way that no one that hot had any business smiling.

I shook my head, trying to reset, but no go. With only one functioning brain cell, I did the only thing I could—I darted down to grab the book.

He stopped me with one warm, overlarge hand on my shoulder. “Let me get that.” He flashed another perfectly crooked smile my way before he bent down and picked up my book for me. “I’ve been dying to read this one.”

He met my eyes, and I almost got lost in how bright and blue they were. He had a scattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks that were more than a little intriguing.

But he was lying to me. I knew a fellow book nerd when I saw one, and he was just too hot. Plus, I was pretty sure there was no such thing as a bookstore god, which was a real shame.

“You like these types of books?” I asked him skeptically, grabbing the book and flipping halfway through.

The words “I screamed his name as he slid between my folds” might as well have been blinking in neon. I looked from the words to him and back again and nearly burst out laughing as whatever spell he’d had on me snapped.

“You have no idea.” He grabbed the book back, looking down at the page.

I could have sworn his jaw detached a little.

“I think you have no idea,” I shot back.

I didn’t know if I was flirting or teasing, but I didn’t care. Time to turn the tables on whatever weird attempt to pick me up he was making here.

“Maybe I should’ve guessed that’s what you liked,” he said, his voice low and intoxicating.

“Maybe.” My smile spread innocently, teeth flashing as I took the book from his hands and scanned the page. “Dare you to read this part to me.”

“I would love to,” he said, taking the book back.

My stomach flopped as I realized too late what I had asked him to do.

Right here.

In the middle of the bookstore.

With a voice that was worthy of the words he was about to read.

What had I done?

“More,” he read with an arched eyebrow.

God, just that one word trembled my knees.

“More,” he continued. “She spoke the word in a rumble as she spread herself for him, for the width of him that was just waiting to take her. To claim her. She needed it, but he was frozen there, the tip of him teasing her opening, the width of him already pushing her wider. More. The word was a sob as she bucked toward him, begging for his rock-hard cock…”

I gulped loudly, staring at his fingers as they caressed the book cover, my coffee shaking in my hand.

“Are you screwing with me?” His blue eyes flicked to mine, and I nearly dropped my coffee as he brought me back down to Earth with one look.

The 1-800-SEX-GODS voice had gone. Poor guy looked furious.

“Yes, of course.” I laughed, grabbing the book from him and heading toward the front of the store. “Pretending you’re into these books is such a bad pick-up line.”

He caught up to me easily. “Who said that I was trying to pick you up?”

“Um, the fact that you tried to pretend you read wolf shifter books. You’re a terrible liar.” I gave him one last look, my heart leaping in my chest.

Too bad he wasn’t a reader because I’d start a book club with him any day.

“Wolf shifter? I knew it.” He quickened his steps, cutting me off right before I turned the corner that would put me in sight of Frank.

He moved in closer, making me even more aware of his presence. It made the hair on the back of my neck spike up, like an electric current before a thunderstorm. It was like the same reaction I had at the sound of his voice but on steroids.

I suppressed a shiver as he leaned close to my ear and asked, “What kind of wolf are you?”

“What did you say?” I must have misheard him. Either that or he spoke in gibberish like I do.

“Well…” He licked his bottom lip, and damn me for memorizing every single second of it. “If you were a wolf shifter, like in these books that you love so much, what wolf would you be?”

“Um, I guess I’ve always identified as a lone wolf like from this book that I read once.”

He furrowed his brow. “Hmm… No, I mean what kind of wolf are you?”

“Like in real life?” This was not how I’d imagined any bookstore conversation going, but here we were. “You first.”

“Big. Fast.” He leaned in, confident, suave, and totally mocking me. “I typically have a sandy gray coat, unless I get wet. And my scent, little rabbit, is like the sea during a rainstorm.”

“Funny. You think because I like these books, I’m easy pickings. You’re dead wrong.” I waved the book in his face before I turned, ready to check out and get out of here.

Again, he flashed around me before I took a step forward. Okay, what was with this guy?

“No, I think you’re fascinating. Something about you draws me in.”

Ohhh, this guy was full of it, wasn’t he?

“Is that right?” I forced out a laugh. “You don’t even know me.”

“Well, let’s fix that.” He leaned even closer, until those bright blue eyes were threatening to swallow me whole. “What’s your name, little rabbit? I have to know.”

I shouldn’t have answered him. I had no reason to answer him. But I couldn’t stop myself from opening my mouth and giving him exactly what he wanted. “Harlow. Harlow Vale.”

“Harlow,” he repeated, but the word came out of his mouth wrapped in silk and drizzled with chocolate.

I could have listened to him say my name over and over again.

“And yours?” I asked, my pulse thrumming.

“Aimes.”

Aimes. Unique, like him. It sounded like a sigh, one that curled a pleasant tingle between my thighs.

“If you will excuse me, Aimes.” Saying his name felt too damn good. “I need to finish my shopping so I can get to class.”

I mostly just needed to get away from him before I did something silly. Like jump on him.

This guy had no right sauntering in here, the holiest of places, and making me feel so good.

I breezed past him with my book—books; oops, another jumped off a display at me—and headed into another aisle.

He didn’t take the hint.

“Maybe you can offer me some good book recommendations,” he said, following on my heels.

“Oh, you mean instead of shifter romance?” I picked up one book, only to slide it back in place because of the two sets of nipples pointing right at my face.

“Yes. If you could recommend something other than wolf porn, that would be great.”

“Wolf porn?” I laughed. “Wolf porn?”

“That’s what it is, isn’t it?”

He was clearly playing with me.

“Uh, no. Porn, or erotica, is just sex. These have plots. Substance. Depth.” And dicks, sometimes a few of them at once, but I kept that to myself. “They’re not all dirty books. Some are just a little sexier than others.”

I was right, of course, but he didn’t seem to be buying what I was selling.

One of his eyebrows lifted mischievously. “You say that, but you like the dirty ones, don’t you, Harlow?”

Yes. Yes, I did. And dirty men, too, apparently. “So? What do you like?”

“I prefer books with a little more meat to them,” he said. “Thrillers, something daring and scary.”

I snickered. “Well, my books have all of that. And they have plenty of meat.”

I brushed past him, thinking I’d driven my point home, and my forearm touched his on accident. Something zinged through me, powerful enough to stagger me back a step. It felt like a spark had gone through my entire body, like static electricity and lightning had a baby.

“Holy fuck,” I mumbled, shaking my hand as that zing turned to a low buzz.

My whole body tingled, my heart boomed, and I couldn’t understand why I was having such a strong reaction to his touch.

He, on the other hand, was staring at me through wide, awestruck eyes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sorry. Did you rub your feet on the carpet or something?” I asked, staring down at the cracked tile floor in confusion.

“You felt that?”

“Uh…” Probably not a good idea to tell a complete stranger about how tingly he made my body. That was a recipe for disaster. “You just surprised me, is all.”

He almost looked disappointed.

I couldn’t read him at all. He was such a strange guy, yet I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t enjoying our interaction. It was rare that I could easily banter with a man without knowing him for a long while.

“I would like to see you again,” he said suddenly. “Can I?”

“Again?” I scoffed, mindlessly removing books from the shelves. “We’ve barely seen each other now.”

“Come to a party with me tonight.”

“What?” I snorted.

“Seriously. I have to go to this party tonight…”

“No offense, Aimes, but I’m a modern woman who’s watched way too many true-crime shows, so I don’t typically show up at parties with complete strangers.”

“And I’m sure your mom taught you not to talk to strangers.”

I nodded. “Exactly.”

He flashed a charming grin that stole the breath from my lungs. “Well, you’ve already broken that rule. You might as well keep going. Live a little.”

“Yes, until I end up locked in your basement freezer.” He didn’t seem the type, but I was wise enough not to trust like that.

He laughed. “That sounds very ominous.”

“I’m sure it would feel even worse.” I shivered at the thought.

“Take a chance. I promise you that you won’t regret it. You might even have a good time.” He had a glint in those blue eyes that made my heart beat faster. “There will be plenty of people to talk to, if you’re already sick of me. But I would really like you to come with me, Harlow.”

Oof, my name on his lips sounded like a sin waiting to happen. “I’ll think about it.”

“Fair enough. Let me see your phone.”

I pulled out my iPhone from the purse hanging across my chest, unlocked it, and looked up at him with my brows raised. “Well?”

He spouted off his phone number and the party’s address, then said, “It’s a private club, so you won’t have to worry about random psychopaths wandering in to steal girls and stick them in freezers.”

“A good start,” I said, nodding.

“Just…keep an open mind.”

Whatever that meant.

He touched my hand and sent that same sizzling sensation up my arm. “Try to make it, Harlow. I look forward to seeing you again.”

I nodded as he turned from me and walked out of the store. He didn’t even look for any books or purchase anything. He was just here, and then he was gone.

I slammed my econ textbook closed and tossed it on my bed, then touched the screen of my phone to see what time it was. Almost dinnertime, and Mom was making mac and cheese.

Here’s the deal: I’m a broke-ass college student who lives in my mom’s basement. My major is undecided, and I’m considered a second-year sophomore, having already completed my sophomore classes last year. This year I was just stalling.

So that whole flinging an alligator through a drive-through window? Yeah, not so farfetched now, huh?

See, the idea of being on my own and doing the dusting thing twenty-four-seven fucking terrified me. The longer I could put it off, the better. I had a part-time job slinging coffee with a great employee discount to help feed my coffee addiction and pretty good pay to help feed my other addiction—books.

I lovingly caressed Dominic’s chest on the cover of The Winter of Shadows and Prey, careful of the bookmark placed already a quarter of the way through.

My mind wandered to the god of the bookstore, Aimes, and his intriguing offer to go to a private party. Did I even want to go? What would I wear? Most importantly, could I convince Mom to let me go?

Her house, her rules, after all. It was a fair enough deal though. She didn’t charge me for rent or groceries, so normally I had no problem following the rules about thirty, thirty-five percent of the time.

This party though… It felt different somehow.

I hopped off the bed and left my bedroom to go upstairs to the kitchen. “Hey, Mom.”

She turned from the boiling water on the stovetop and smiled at me. She had the same long, silky hair I had, except mine was purple, but aside from that, we didn’t really look much alike. Similar, but not alike. She was much prettier than I was.

“Hey, babe. How were classes?”

“My morning’s were cancelled. The rest were unexciting.”

“You don’t have track practice today?”

“No.” A shame, really, since running track was about the only thing I was actually good at. So good that it helped fund college.

I had always been a fast runner, almost unnaturally so, according to my coaches. Considering I had commitment issues with coursework and college in general and often dangled too close to the academic probation list, I could’ve used an afternoon doing what made me feel strong and capable.

I sat down at the island while she prepped dinner. “So, I was thinking of going to a party tonight,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Whose party?” She didn’t look up at me as she added the macaroni to the boiling pot.

“A guy I met. You don’t know him.”

“Do you?” She turned with a smirk on her pretty face. “You’re not actually considering going to some guy’s home. Have you learned nothing from watching Cold Cases?”

“C’mon, Mom. Are you really going to tell me you never went to a party that you were invited to by someone you didn’t know well?”

“That’s not the point. Besides, I lived in a different time.” Her favorite thing to say. Like there weren’t serial killers around when she was my age.

“I want to go.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“It’s a private party though. It sounds too classy for danger.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that makes sense. Don’t you have an econ test on Monday?”

“Already studied.” And by that, I meant I’d looked at the words in the textbook and my notes. Nothing else. Econ was stupid boring.

“I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I’ll bring my cell and my mace. Plus, I’ll threaten any guy within a two-foot radius that I’ll skin their balls to make a nice wallet for myself if they get any closer.”

“Nope.”

“A five-foot radius, then.”

“No, not good enough.”

“Why?”

She stared at me and opened her mouth like she was going to say something and then closed it again.

“Mom, hello?”

“There are dangers in the world that you don’t know about.”

“I’ve watched Cold Cases with you. I’m well aware of all the ways to die. Besides, I’m always careful.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” She took a deep breath before letting it out slowly. When she spoke again, her voice was heavy. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay…” I was probably adopted or something. That made sense given that Mom was so much prettier and smarter than I was.

Or we were aliens in hiding who escaped from the government. Or maybe my overactive imagination meant someone official would add Syndrome after my name in the future.

Just then my phone rang, and reflex made me look down at it. It was one of the girls from econ class.

“You should probably answer it.” Mom stuck her head in the fridge to hide her obvious relief.

I gave her the stink-eye. We’d discuss this great secret later.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Harlow, it’s Lacy. I missed class today and wondered if you could send me the notes.”

“Sure, I’ll send you what I have.” Which wasn’t much because I was busy struggling to keep up with the lectures.

“Great, I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” I clicked off the call and turned back to my mom. “You were saying?”

She juggled the milk, cheese, and salad fixings onto the counter, avoiding all eye contact. “It’s not important.”

“Really? Because it sounded important.”

Just then, her cell rang, and she practically leaped toward the island to check it. “I have to take this. We’ll talk later. Just don’t go out tonight, of all nights, okay?”

My mouth dropped open. “Are you kidding me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

She shushed me and answered, and I could tell from the deepening lines on her face that it was someone from the law office and she’d be a while. She’d mentioned some big, important trial she was helping with as a paralegal that started next week.

Super convenient.

I sighed, finishing up dinner where she left off.

After eating alone, I went back downstairs and got ready. I might not have been tall and sexy, but I could contour the hell out of my face. By the time I was dressed in shorts and a crop top to show off my three tats, and my leather jacket, I decided I didn’t look completely unpracticed at going to parties.

When it was time to go, Mom was still on the phone, so I left without telling her goodbye, though her words still echoed in my memory:

Just don’t go out tonight, of all nights.