Emma - The Sisters of the Moon Book 1

Emma

I don’t know how long I’ve been out, but when I finally come round, I find myself lying on the floor of a small, cold room. Whoever put me in here must have some form of decency because they left me a pillow and covered me up. My head turns toward the centre of the room and I spot a square table with two chairs. It reminds me of the rooms my dad uses to question people.

Where am I? Where are the girls?

I’m both physically and mentally exhausted. I don’t think I can hold it together for much longer. I’ve got to think about things, there’s no chance I can win another fight. I put the hoodie on properly and zip it up. Whoever’s this is, it’s massive and looks like a dress against my frame. I slide down the edge of the wall and glance down at my legs, they’re covered in dried blood and mud. The cuts and bruises are still slowly healing and I can feel the tension in my back only growing.

The door opens and I lift my gaze to watch a man enter. He closes the door behind him and heads over to the table. Taking a seat calmy, confidence oozing from him, he brings his arms onto the table and rests his elbows against the surface while clasping his hands together. An Alpha aura emanates from him, practically smacking me in the face as he continues to sit there in silence.

F*ck!

Just what we needed. We’ve gone and stumbled straight into a bloody Pack!

My eyes meet the light blue almost silver ones of my interrogator. He’s gorgeous and smells even fricking better; sweet like caramel fudge. His T-shirt leaves nothing to the imagination. His upper body, shoulders and biceps bulge and they’re not even tensed. The tattoos on his right hand wrap up around his arms before effortlessly disappearing under his tight, white shirt and emerge again on his neck and throat.

D*mn it! The three things I’m a sucker for and this man’s got them all; caramel fudge, climb-on-me shoulders, and tattoos.

It’s not like he’s going to let me walk out of here, and back into the woods with no questions asked.

Is he going to kill me?

Well, I suppose there are worse ways to go.

Heck, if someone’s out to get me, it might as well be the mouth-watering, walking-talking bar of fudge. D*mn, this hoodie smells the same.

Is it his? Did he cover me? Did he see me naked?

He clears his throat and breaks my train of thought and the silence.

Oh piss, I’ve been staring too long!

“I’ve just watched you single handedly take out three rogues. One quite literally single f*ck*ng handed. Who are you?”

I don’t know if it’s the s*xy half-smile that laces his lips, or the cocky smooth tones of his voice. Either way, he sends a shiver straight through my body and down between my legs.

Who am I? What a loaded question.

Realising that the drool-worthy Alpha is my only option right now, I compose myself and rise to my feet causing the oversized grey hoodie to stop mid-thigh. If I can talk myself out of this room, we might just be able to get out of this Pack alive, and to the lake house before noon. He’s an Alpha, I’ve got to play him at his own game.

With my eyes never leaving his, I stride over to the other chair. Pulling it out, I sit, trying to ooze confidence and sexiness to mask my nerves. I cross my leg over the other and push out my hip, knowing it will make the hoodie rise higher up on my thighs. Leaning my elbow on the back of the chair, I drop my gaze, letting my eyes wander his body while biting my lip before bringing myself to look him in the eyes again.

“So, what do you want to know about me?”

Emma

“Emma, darling,” my mother calls from the kitchen. “Can you bring me the vase from the entrance hall?”

Fed up with reading through my latest building contracts, I happily toss my work onto the sofa. I head out of the family room to collect the vase from the round oak table in our hallway. Entering our large modern Georgian-style kitchen, I see Mum leaning over the sink trimming and taming flowers.

Mum's a keen gardener. She regularly cuts flowers from our garden, to create beautiful fresh bouquets to place around the house. She has a knack for it. She can nourish and nurture anything. I suppose that’s a given when you’re the Luna of a Pack. I place the vase down on the worktop next to her.

“Thank you,” Mum says, looking at me with a loving smile.

She turns back to cut the leaves and thorns from the roses. She’s gathered a soft collection today, a mix of beautiful spring flowers. The peach roses, pink wildflowers, white camel