Page 29 of Hexy Beast

Effie lets out a little moan that goes straight to my dick.

“Oh, you might have just given me a mini orgasm with that snarl.” She bats her eyes in a way that makes me think she’s just teasing again, but the fact that she kind of melts against me has me wondering. “Put me down, Wolfie baby. It’s not time to carry me across the threshold yet.”

I’m so distracted by thoughts of what usually happens after a groom carries his bride through the doorway into their new home that I do what she asks without thinking. My wolf isn’t happy about that. He’s pacing around inside me, the fur on his back raised in a mohawk of annoyance.

Yeah, get used to it, buddy, because the last thing I need to do is to act like this is in any way going to be a real marriage. It’s just a convenient out for both of us until I find a new job of questionable legality for the pack to carry out, and she figures out what’s gone wrong with her magic so we can be more than a few blocks away from each other.

“You lack imagination,” my wolf grumbles.

That’s where he’s wrong. I’m cursed with too much imagination when it comes to all the things I’d like to do with Effie Sherwood.

Aunt Artemis gets up from her chair in the gazebo and the pack members standing under its roof part like the tall grass when a gust of wind foretelling a prophecy blasts through. Her hands are clasped together in front of her, and her eyes have turned from light brown to the honey gray of her wolf as she gazes up at the nearly full moon. The scent of mossy old logs swirls around her, along with something she always describes as moondust sparkling around her in the early dark. “It’s almost time,” she says, her lips curved into a slight smile. “It won’t be easy, but combining two hearts never is.”

Then the glimmering glow around her goes out, and she blinks her eyes back to their usual dark color.

“Oh, what a good omen.” She claps her hands together and smiles at Effie and me. “It always bodes well when the moon has a message before a wedding.”

Yeah, that’s one way to describe what just happened. It’s fucking unsettling even when you’ve seen it a million times.

“There’s just one problem,” Nikos says as he points up at the night sky. “It’s blue.”

I follow the line of his finger to the moon, which is almost full and most definitely blue. The wolf inside me stops pacing, shakes out his fur, and starts to stretch for what will undoubtedly be a long, wild run. A blue moon is rare, happening only a few times a year at most. When it happens, the regular rules about shifting go out the window. No full moon needed, just a touch of that blue light and anyone in the pack can shift. It’s a cause for celebration—and the race.

All around us, pack members start to roll their necks from side to side, loosen up their shoulders, and extend their legs to ease the tension in their hamstrings for what’s coming. Only Nikos, Artemis, and I stay as we are. Our wolves don’t need us to prep our current bodies for the transformation. We’re all three powerful enough to change at will without the repercussions the others would feel if they didn’t prep.

Someone a few blocks off Main Street lets out a howl that cuts through the night, and nearly everyone around us turns to return the call. The sound hits just the right note to pop the lightbulbs hanging from the gazebo and leave us in only moonlight.

Effie takes a step closer to me, slipping her hand into mine as if she needs someone to hold on to. “What’s happening?”

Nikos turns, his self-satisfied grin already going pointed as he lets his wolf side start to come out. “Looks like you can’t marry the witch—not unless you can complete the race.”

Just fucking great. Can nothing about this day go as planned?

“What race?” Effie asks. “What is he talking about?”

“The blue moon means all adults in the pack have to race through the woods, battling it out to be the first to arrive back in Arcadia,” Aunt Artemis says, her tone reassuring. “When there’s a wedding during a blue moon, our tradition is that before a couple can marry, they must complete the blue moon gauntlet race before it changes back to white.”

“What kind of race is it? How long? Where’s the track?” Effie asks, sounding like what I’d imagine a treasure hunter would when finding a map leading to a cave filled with gold and jewels.

Artemis gives a little shrug. “Whatever the moon decides.”

The rumble of growls from the pack starts, low like the first purr of an engine off in the distance. The blue moon gauntlet is an anything-goes chance for wolves to prove themselves, to rise through the ranks, and to maybe even a few scores. The stakes are huge—and that’s before you throw a witch into the mix. Everyone will be racing to better their place in the pack—especially Nikos. Only the Fates know what kind of stunts he’ll try to pull to get to Effie or me and end us.

We have fifteen minutes, maybe less, before this all turns to shit.

Effie looks from Artemis to Nikos to the rest of the pack, who are already beginning to transform under the undeniable force of the blue moon. My gut clenches as my own wolf responds to the moon’s call—not to transform, but to protect.

A blue moon is when the line between civilized and uncivilized thins to the thinnest sliver and is the absolute last time a non-pack member should be in Arcadia, pre-wedding trials or not.

Effie looks up at me, her eyes wide with what I swear is anticipation. “So what happens now?”

I tighten my grasp on her hand and turn toward the woods. “We run.”

Chapter Eleven

Effie…

We take off for the woods at a pace that has my boobs crying for mercy until I whisper a quick sports bra spell that keeps my chin from getting whacked black and blue.