Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan

  Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan

  by

  Jordan Summers

  Moonlight Kin 4: Tristan

  Copyright 2014 by Jordan Summers

  Published 2014 by Jordan Summers

  Cover Art by: Wicked Smart Designs

  Formatted by IRONHORSE Formatting

  Smashwords Edition

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to jordansummers.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author's work.

  *****

  BACK COVER COPY

  Armed with a lodestone and a magical sword, Lycanian enforcer Tristan Chevalier is on the trail of a Darkling, who’s already killed a werewolf and a human female. He knows where it’s going and who the Darkling is after, so he needs to reach her first. When he finds Isabel MacDougal, Tristan believes he’s discovered the perfect bait to draw his enemy out.

  Isabel “Izzy” MacDougal has always known monsters were real. She spent her childhood hiding her psychic abilities until they nearly drove her mad. When she runs into Tristan, Izzy believes the giant arctic werewolf is the one who’s been hunting her and that her life is over. But for Tristan Chevalier and Izzy MacDougal life isn’t over—the cat and mouse game is just beginning.

  * * * * *

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Jordan Summers

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  In New Orleans you’d better like your sushi deep-fried and your saxophone dipped in a coating of bluesy jazz, or you wouldn’t survive long in the Big Easy.

  Music rang out through the Jackson Square courtyard as street musicians turned up the volume and charm to compete for tourist dollars. Tonight the jazzy band at the end of the square attempted to lure their crowd away from a lone trumpet player and a violinist.

  Along with the musicians, tarot and palm readers had already set up their tables, staggering them just enough to give the pretense of privacy.

  Isabel “Izzy” MacDougal did a quick head count. There were ten tables in total. Her table would make eleven, but she only counted the ones in Jackson Square. Others would be set up along the side streets near Bourbon Street, hoping to catch the stray drunk ready to part with their hard-earned cash.

  Izzy scanned the growing crowd as she unfolded her small card table and spread her purple shawl on top of it. She spotted her friend Everly Watts a few tables over and waved.

  Everly waved back then returned to reading the woman seated across from her. Izzy had met the short, dark-haired Goth when she first arrived in New Orleans a month ago.

  Despite resembling an anemic vampire, Everly was down to earth and turned out to be a good friend. Most nights she could be found at The Dungeon with all the other Goths and vampire wannabes in town. The pancake makeup disguised her sensitive nature and fierce intelligence, but nothing hid her street smarts.

  Izzy smiled as a few people slowed to browse her table. They didn’t notice that enterprising locals were shadowing them, waiting for them to drop their guard.

  Not even dusk yet and the French Quarter already bursting at the seams with sunburned tourists and crafty pickpockets.

  Izzy finished setting up and took a seat. She kept her expression open. Hard to do when she was continuously bombarded by impressions from the growing crowd, but she managed. Unlike some of the others situated around the square, Izzy had a true gift of Sight.

  She snorted. Some gift.

  She and Everly had glommed onto each other when Izzy discovered that Everly suffered from the same “gift” that she’d grown up with. It wasn’t easy being psychic, especially in a world populated by skeptics and monsters.

  Instead of growing up in a loving household like Isabel, Everly had been kicked out of her home when her gifts arrived. According to the petite Goth, she’d been living on her own ever since. She survived by taking on menial jobs and never staying in one place for too long. Another thing that they had in common.

  Izzy shuffled her tarot cards and smiled at a passing group of women. The women wore flowery nametags across their chests, advertising a local conference.

  “Would you like to know what your future holds, ladies?” she asked.

  One of the women giggled, but the ash blonde stopped to chat. “Can you tell me if I’m going to meet someone soon?” she asked.

  “Sure,” Izzy said. “Take a seat.”

  The woman’s hand clasped the back of the folding chair as she pulled it out to sit down.

  “Lisa, you’re not really going to waste your money on that crap, are you?” her friend asked.

  Uncertainty filled the blonde’s green eyes. Before she caved to peer pressure, Izzy flipped the first card over.

  “He has dark hair,” she said.

  The woman scooted forward on her seat. “Really?”

  “Yes,” Izzy said. “And he’s tall.”

  “Is his name Mike?” Lisa asked, peering into the cards in search of answers.

  Izzy closed her eyes and concentrated. She saw the dark-haired man in her vision drop down to one knee in front of the blond woman.

  “I see him proposing,” Izzy said. “It’s quite a ring.”

  Lisa squealed. “Oh my God! When?”

  Izzy examined her vision. The leaves on the trees around the couple were orange and red, but no limbs were bare. “The fall.” She opened her eyes. “He’ll propose in the fall.”

  The woman whipped her head around to search for her friends. “Did you hear that? Mike is going to propose to me in the fall.”

  The skeptic among them simply shook her head in disgust. “Mike’s a jerk,” she muttered.

  Izzy turned her attention away from the cards and stared at the woman. Her black aura came into view. The color startled her. On occasion when Izzy looked at people, shadow obscured their entire face. She had no idea what the darkness meant, but it always felt evil and frightened her.

  This was different. The woman’s dark aura didn’t obscure her features. Izzy peered deeper, past the outer layer to see what caused the woman’s pain.

  A red-haired man appeared in her mind,
then his image quickly faded into a tombstone with the name Thomas carved into its rigid gray face.

  “I’m sorry about Thomas,” Izzy said. “He really loved you.”

  The woman’s face went from red to white, as the blood drained from her cheeks. “How did you know about him?” she whispered.

  Izzy shrugged. She couldn’t begin to explain where her gift came from and certainly not to someone who wasn’t ready to listen.

  “Think she’s still a fraud?” Lisa asked as she plucked several bills out of her wallet and laid them on the table.

  “Let’s go,” the skeptic said. “I need a drink.”

  The crowd swallowed them. More people approached her. Izzy got ten more readings done before her head threatened to explode.

  The pain happened every night. She could only read for so long before her gift exerted too much pressure and her body gave out. At least she’d made enough to pay rent. All in all a good night.

  Izzy was packing her things, when the first inkling of unease struck. She casually scanned the crowd, but no one seemed overly interested in her. She finished gathering her fortune-telling tools and shoved them into her backpack. She quickly folded her table and chairs then took them over to Everly.

  “Can you keep these for me until tomorrow?” Izzy asked.

  Everly’s back stiffened, and she frowned. “Sure,” she said, scanning the faces around them. “I feel it, too.”

  “It’s okay,” Izzy said. Whatever was out there didn’t know about Everly—at least not yet. She’d lead it away before it detected her friend. “I’m going to head out. Catch you later.”

  Everly nodded, but she didn’t relax. She continued to covertly scan the crowd.

  Izzy weaved her way through the throng, cutting along Pere Antoine’s alley before hanging a left toward St. Peter Street. She glanced up and down the sidewalk to be sure she wasn’t being followed, then ducked into Yo Mama’s Bar and Grill.

  The bearded doorman greeted her with a friendly smile. Izzy grinned back then bounded up the stairs to where her friend Heather bartended.

  A red light illuminated the small space. Two couches, a couple of long tables, dancing statues, and a small bar filled the room. Classic rock from an old jukebox blared out of speakers mounted in the ceiling. The place reminded her of a bordello, but it had amazing hamburgers.

  Izzy’s stomach growled. She wished she had time to order a burger, but she needed to use Heather’s phone then get back to her apartment on Dumaine Street.

  Heather had just popped the cap off a longneck, when she spotted Izzy. She smiled, then without saying a word, she grabbed her cell phone and tossed it to her. Izzy caught it easily, mouthed the word “thanks,” and quickly called her sister, Mindy.

  She didn’t want to alarm her sister, but Izzy needed to let Mindy know that someone was following her and she might have to lay low for a while.

  It would hurt to be out of touch with her sister, but Izzy didn’t have much choice. The darkness she’d sensed in Breakbend, Oregon was here and getting closer. She’d felt its presence growing, and it terrified her.

  Izzy finished up her call and handed the phone back to Heather. “Thanks,” she said.

  “Anytime,” Heather said. “Catch you later?”

  She shook her head. “Not tonight. I have a headache.” Izzy rubbed her temples for emphasis.

  “Catch you next time,” Heather said then moved onto a waiting customer.

  Izzy hurried down the stairs but stopped before she stepped out onto the sidewalk. The doorman watched her, but didn’t say anything since this wasn’t exactly new behavior from her.

  “It’s all clear,” he said.

  “Thanks.” Izzy slipped out the door and headed toward Bourbon. She’d just passed Royal Street, when the sensation of being observed returned.

  Izzy glanced over her shoulder but didn’t see anyone. Didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Ordinary being a relative term in the French Quarter. Nothing to alarm her, but Izzy knew he was there.

  She felt him.

  She wound her way through the heavy crowd, hoping to lose her pursuer on raucous Bourbon Street. With the sun going down, the mood on the street changed. Izzy turned down Dumaine Street.

  The crowd thinned, and she caught sight of Louis Armstrong Park in the distance. The trees swayed as the sun dipped below the horizon and darkness took over. A shiver tracked down her spine.

  This was their time. The time when they were most active. The time when the real monsters came out and hunted.

  Izzy hurried along the uneven sidewalks. She heard music coming from Bourbon Street. The jumble of sounds and the collision of smells should’ve comforted her, but Izzy knew she wasn’t alone.

  She tripped over a raised concrete slab and fell forward. She grabbed the wrought iron fence that ran along the front of one of the old gentrified homes to keep from falling.

  The metal felt good in her hand. Cool. Hard. Real. Real as the heavy footsteps coming up fast behind her. Izzy pushed away from the fence and sprinted on.

  Her blood pumped so hard she could barely hear herself think. Izzy turned to see who approached and collided with a wall. She cursed under her breath and looked at the offending object in her way. It wasn’t a wall at all. Somehow she’d buried her nose in a man’s hard chest.

  Strong hands grasped her arms. Whether to keep her from falling or prevent her from leaving, she didn’t know. Izzy craned her neck to see who she’d run into. Her gaze collided with a pair of mercury-colored eyes, and she shivered, despite his handsome face.

  Her body went from hot to cold to hot again. Staring in his eyes was like staring into the face of the Arctic. His white-blond hair and stern expression mirrored the harsh, unforgiving environment.

  Izzy opened her mouth to apologize, but before she uttered a single syllable, the image of a white wolf obscured his striking features. She felt the blood drain from her face. He was one of them.

  “Let me go,” she said, struggling to break his grasp.

  He didn’t release her. Instead, the man’s grip tightened. “You’re being hunted,” he said.

  She knew that. Izzy had known that for days. Weird that he announced it like he wasn’t the one hunting her.

  The man had to be the biggest monster she’d ever seen. Given his size, he’d be unnaturally large for a werewolf, and that was saying something, since they leaned toward massive.

  “Let me go or I’m going to scream,” Izzy said.

  “This is the French Quarter,” he said. “No one will notice or care.” His sensual lips tilted into a smirk.

  Izzy wanted to knock that smirk right off his face.

  As if reading her mind, his smile vanished. “If you don’t come with me, you’re going to die.”

  Despite the ominous and rather clichéd warning, Izzy had no intention of going anywhere with him. She’d seen his true form. She would be safer locked in a cage with a half-starved polar bear. Everything about this man screamed danger.

  A trashcan lid banged at the end of the street. They both turned to see what had caused the noise. Izzy took his momentary distraction as a chance to get away. She twisted out of his hold and took off running.

  She didn’t get far. He was on her before she’d made it ten feet. Given his tremendous height and long legs it wasn’t really a surprise, but she’d had to try.

  A small crowd of men and women wandered by. Izzy flagged them down. As they slowed to a stop, the giant beside her swung her around, and his mouth descended upon hers.

  * * * * *

  Tristan needed her to shut up and listen, but short of gagging her, he had no way of making her comply. He’d expected to find a flighty, air-headed female, but Isabel was also far smarter than he’d anticipated. Manipulating her wasn’t going to be easy. When she flagged the small crowd down, Tristan used the only thing he had on hand to silence her. Himself.

  He spun her around in his arms and pulled her close. His mouth came down upon hers b
efore she understood what was happening. The second their lips met, something unexpected occurred, something entirely unwanted.

  Tristan’s body hardened, and heat exploded inside of him. Urges that he viciously suppressed surfaced in an instant. His hands tightened on her shirt, and his arms locked. He felt her nipples harden against his chest a moment before her body melted into his.

  Instead of keeping the embrace superficial, Tristan deepened it. He nipped Isabel’s full bottom lip until she opened for him, then Tristan surged inside.

  Sweetness exploded on his tongue. He’d never tasted anything like it, like her. It was at odds with the citrusy aroma wafting from her skin. Tristan wanted more, so he took it.

  He sank his hand into the wild tangle of her blonde-and- purple hair then tilted her head to get better access. Whoops and laughter surrounded them, but he ignored it all as he thoroughly explored Isabel’s mouth.

  Her hands tightened on his shirt, hesitated a moment, then she kissed him back. Fire spread through his body, making every inch of him hard. They needed to find a room before he ended up stripping her naked right here. Tristan calculated the distance to the nearest hotel. If they left now, it wouldn’t take long to reach it.

  She’s human. The thought filtered through his mind. The reminder chilled his ardor as effectively as dumping ice water down the front of his jeans.

  Tristan reluctantly pulled back. His chest heaved as he drew in air, waiting for his head to clear.

  * * * * *

  Izzy’s world continued to tilt off its axis, even after he ended the embrace. Despite his frosty exterior, the man’s lips were scorching. Maybe he wasn’t made of ice after all.

  The crowd she’d flagged down had wandered off at some point, leaving them alone. In some part of her mind, Izzy had realized that they were leaving, but for the life of her, she hadn’t been able to tear her mouth away. Izzy had been kissed before. Plenty of times. But never like this.