Over the Moon Read online

  PRAISE FOR THE AUTHORS OF

  OVER the MOON

  Angela Knight

  “The future belongs to Knight.”

  —USA Today bestselling author Emma Holly

  “Her world is believable and her plotting fast-paced.”

  —Booklist

  MaryJanice Davidson

  “Erotically passionate, absolute delightful wicked fun!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Christine Feehan

  “MaryJanice Davidson is a refreshing voice…I cannot recommend her enough!”

  —ParaNormal Romance Reviews

  Virginia Kantra

  “Virginia Kantra is an autobuy…her books are keepers and her heroes are to die for.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Suzanne Brockmann

  “Sexy and suspenseful…[ ]Virginia Kantra is an up-and-coming star.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Karen Robards

  Sunny

  “Fans of Laurell K. Hamilton will love Sunny.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Lori Foster

  OVER the MOON

  Angela Knight

  MaryJanice Davidson

  Virginia Kantra

  Sunny

  BERKLEY SENSATION, NEW YORK

  THE BERKLEY PUBLISHING GROUP

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, USA

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  (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.)

  Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

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  (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.)

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  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  OVER THE MOON

  A Berkley Sensation Book / published by arrangement with the authors

  Copyright © 2007 by The Berkley Publishing Group.

  “Moon Dance” copyright © 2007 by Julie Woodcock.

  “Between the Mountain and the Moon” copyright © 2007 by Virginia Kantra.

  “Driftwood” copyright © 2007 by MaryJanice Alongi.

  “Mona Lisa Three” copyright © 2007 by DS Studios, Inc.

  Cover illustration by Jon Barkat.

  Cover design by George Long.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorized editions.

  For information, address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  ISBN: 978-1-1012-0564-8

  BERKLEY SENSATION®

  Berkley Sensation Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group,

  a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.,

  375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014.

  BERKLEY SENSATION is a registered trademark of Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  The “B” design is a trademark belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.

  CONTENTS

  Moon Dance

  Angela Knight

  Between the Mountain and the Moon

  Virginia Kantra

  Driftwood

  MaryJanice Davidson

  Mona Lisa Three

  Sunny

  MOON DANCE

  Angela Knight

  This story is dedicated to

  my wonderful critique partner, Diane Whiteside,

  who went above and beyond the call of duty to help me

  turn it into something readable.

  Thanks, babe.

  PROLOGUE

  Rain dripped from Sergeant Lucas Rollings’s uniform hat and rolled down his neck in a constant, cold stream. His feet were slowly going numb inside his uniform shoes, which squelched unpleasantly with every step across the sodden leaves. Even his bulletproof vest was wet, and the gun felt slippery in his hand. He ignored the discomfort.

  Any chance they’d find the little girl was worth it.

  “The dogs have lost the scent in this rain.” Beside him, Ray Johnston grimly watched his two big German shepherds work a spiraling pattern through the trees. Though pushing sixty and barely five-foot-seven, Ray was wiry and tough. His angular face looked years younger than it actually was under his thatch of thick, black hair, and his eyes were a piercing Paul Newman blue. “Wish it could have held off.” He shot Lucas a look. “You know, you don’t have to chase this hunch with me. Everybody seems pretty sure Myer has the girl.”

  Somebody had called in a tip to 911, saying they thought their pedophile next door neighbor had dragged a four-year-old who matched Jennifer Rosemond’s description into his house. The SWAT team went to investigate, and he’d fired on them. Now damn near every cop in Harrisville was parked outside his house while a hostage negotiator tried to talk Jerry Myer into giving up.

  “Yeah, but what if he doesn’t really have the kid? What if the neighbor called in a false tip because he just wanted to get rid of the bastard?” Lucas, for some reason, had the nagging feeling that was just what happened. And his nagging feelings had an ugly habit of being right. “If you stumble on the kidnapper by yourself, he’ll blow your ass away. And the kid would be toast.”

  Frustration flashed across Ray’s face. “I’m tougher than you think.”

  Lucas eyed him. Why the hell does he want me gone? It was a troubling idea. Ray was a damn good police K-9 trainer, but he was also a civilian, which is why Lucas had been assigned to ride herd on him. Was he dreaming of a little vigilante justice?

  Not that Lucas wouldn’t mind beating the shit out of their target himself.

  Three hours ago, four-year-old Jennifer had been out playing in the back yard while her mother read on the screened-in porch. Apparently, the dark screen had kept the kidnapper from realizing Tammy Rosemond was there. He’d emerged from the woods behind the house and snatched the little girl right off her swing set.

  Tammy screamed and charged out to rescue her daughter. The man had drawn a gun and fired at her. Luckily he’d missed, but as the woman ducked for cover, he’d carried the child into the woods.

  Tammy had run to the phone and called 911. Soon afterward, every cop in Harrisville County roared onto the scene, sirens screaming. Lucas, though a city cop and technically out of his jurisdiction, had been one of them. In a case like this, everybody pitched in.

  They’d just gone into the second hour of the search when their helpful tipster had called. Now it was getting dark, and everybody but Lucas and Ray was off on what might be a wild-goose chase.

  And if it was, the bastard
would get away. Unless Ray and Lucas found him.

  “Bothers me that this guy snatched the kid in the middle of the afternoon with all those neighbors around,” Lucas murmured to the handler as they walked along behind the dogs, scanning the trees for any sign of the kidnapper. “He’s not just a pedophile, he’s nuts.” Thinking about what he might be doing to the child even now made Lucas’s belly twist into a sick knot.

  “Yeah, I—”

  Lucas threw up a hand for silence as a pile of brush suddenly drew his attention. Something about the way the limbs lay around the fallen tree trunk struck him as subtly unnatural. It looked like somebody had stacked them…

  The wind shifted. Both dogs began to bark as if they’d suddenly caught a scent as they charged toward the brush pile.

  “Ray, shut those dogs up,” Lucas snapped. The last thing they needed was to spook an armed man into killing his hostage.

  Ray whistled sharply. The dogs instantly went quiet, except for soft whines of excitement. They really were well-trained.

  Pointing his nine-millimeter Glock at the pile, Lucas moved toward it. “Come out with your hands—”

  A gun barrel thrust through the branches. In the split second that followed, Lucas realized he didn’t dare fire into the brush—he’d hit the kid. He dove for the ground to the thunderous boom of a .45, then scrambled aside as the shooter fired again. One of the dogs yelped in agony, and the other howled.

  Brush flew as the kidnapper leaped to his feet, jamming the muzzle of his gun under the jaw of the little girl he held in front of him. The child hung limp, head lolling. “Get the hell back, or I’ll shoot!”

  Lucas leveled his gun, rage boiling through him. “Looks like she’s already dead, you son of a bitch!”

  “She’s just out!” He hauled the child higher until her shoulders blocked the head shot Lucas was contemplating. “Just gave her a little chloroform, that’s all. Don’t mean to kill her.”

  “Yeah, right, asshole.” Lucas lowered his gun and pointed it at the guy’s crotch, just below Jennifer’s dangling sneakers. “Maybe I ought to make sure the world’s little girls have nothing to worry about.”

  “And there’ll be one less little girl in the world, because I’ll—”

  Ray’s remaining dog suddenly began to bark in a furious salvo, advancing on the thug with stiff-legged menace. The kidnapper backed away, hastily jamming the gun tighter against Jennifer’s jaw. “Call off that dog! Now!”

  Oh, shit. A movement behind the thug caught Lucas’s eye. Ray was circling around behind the kidnapper, using the distraction provided by his dog. His gaze was intent, murderous.

  Lucas fought to keep the reaction off his face, though his gut clenched. Ray was three inches shorter than the guy, and he wasn’t armed. Somebody was about to get killed—and it was way too likely to be Jennifer.

  Lucas jerked his gun skyward and lifted his free hand—something every bit of training he had told him not to do. But he was wearing a bulletproof vest, and if the fucker shot at him, at least the gun wouldn’t be pointed at the kid. It’ll give Ray his chance—as long as he doesn’t shoot me in the head… “Hey, hey—calm down! You win…”

  In an eyeblink Ray had disappeared, replaced in an instant by something huge and dark. The kidnapper jerked his gun from Jennifer’s jaw and fired at Lucas just as the thing grabbed him.

  A bullet slammed into Lucas’s hip like a baseball bat. He hit the ground on his back, fighting a scream of pain. Despite the agony, he rolled over, sought to aim his gun at the kidnapper…

  And blinked in astonishment. A towering black creature had snatched Jennifer from the kidnapper. The man screamed and pointed his gun at it.

  The monster hit him with a casual swat, slamming him into the tree behind him with a crunch. When he hit the ground, his head was twisted at an unnatural angle. His eyes went fixed and dead.

  Well, Lucas thought with grim satisfaction, that fucker won’t hurt anybody again.

  “Aw, man…” The creature moved toward Lucas with an odd, swift grace, carrying the unconscious little girl cradled in his arms. He crouched at Lucas’s side, long wolf muzzle tilting to examine him. “You’re bleeding like a son of a bitch. I think he hit an artery.”

  The monster’s eyes were Paul Newman blue.

  “Ray?” Lucas husked, fighting to focus. He must be hallucinating. Ray Johnston couldn’t have turned into a seven-foot werewolf…

  “Yeah, it’s me.” The werewolf put Jennifer down in the leaves. “You can see why I didn’t want you to come along. I could smell the bastard out here, but I wasn’t sure where he was.”

  “The kid…okay?”

  “Just out. Smells like chloroform. Asshole must have been telling the truth.” There was compassion in those blue eyes, so human in that alien lupine face. “She’ll be fine. But you…”

  Oddly, Lucas felt no fear. Everything seemed floating, dreamlike. It no longer even hurt. “Dying…”

  “Yeah.” The werewolf searched his gaze. “I can save you, Lucas. If I bite you, the magic’ll keep you alive until you can change.”

  He blinked and began to shiver. Cold was spreading up his torso. “Magic?”

  “Yeah. That stuff about werewolves being cursed killers is all bullshit. Merlin created us to help people, not kill them. And I think you could do a lot of good as one of us.” Blue eyes searched his. “The ambulance isn’t going to get here in time to save you, buddy. You’ll be dead in ten minutes without the bite. I’m the only shot you have. It’s your choice, Lucas.”

  Blearily, he decided that Ray was right—maybe he could do some good as a werewolf. Besides, he wasn’t ready to die yet. “Do it.”

  When Ray sank his fangs almost tenderly into Lucas’s forearm, the pain felt as distant and dreamlike as everything else.

  CHAPTER 1

  Five years later…

  “Lucas Rollings is the best chance you’ve got, Elena.” Candice caught her wrist. In her urgency, pink-painted fingernails lengthened into claws. “He’s the best chance any of us have.”

  “Maybe he is.” Elena Livingston pulled away and rose from the sitting room couch to move restlessly to the French doors. A decorative wrought-iron grill covered the glass with lacy, fanciful shapes—leaves, unicorns, wolves, stags. Almost pretty enough to disguise the grill’s real purpose: bars on Elena’s gilded cage. “But this isn’t his fight. Do I have the right to involve him?”

  Candice made a frustrated sound and raked both ringed hands through her fine hair. She’d dyed it cotton-candy pink to go with her leather pants and cropped top. It was the kind of thing a rebellious teenager would wear. Candice James was twenty-nine, but like a teenager, she was trying to make a declaration of independence. Unfortunately, pink leather was the best she could do. “Don’t be so damned noble. Do you like living like this? Locked up for a month every year like a horny French poodle so the neighbor’s mutt can’t get to you?”

  “No, I don’t like it.” Elena ground her teeth, barely suppressing the urge to throw herself against the iron grill and rip it right off the door. She could do it. She had the strength. Unfortunately, it would set off every alarm in the house. “I’m twenty-seven years old, dammit. I should have a career. I could be married to a man who loves me, raising babies. Instead I’m a chess piece in Daddy’s ongoing game with the Chosen.” Letting her forehead rest against the door, she stared blindly through the grill at the forest behind the house. “And I’ve run out of time.”

  Candice rose from her chair, concern on her pretty, narrow face. “You think your father’s really going to give you to Stephen Bradford?”

  She shrugged. “Judith said they’ve been in negotiations for the past week.” The maid might not go so far as to help Elena escape, but she was usually a reliable source of information.

  “Stephen. Jesus. Of all the Chosen, why’d your dad have to pick him? He’s the nastiest in the bunch.”

  Elena shot her a dry look. “Which pretty well makes him perfect,
as far as my father’s concerned. Stephen’s arrogant and obsessed with power, and Daddy knows he’ll protect the Chosen’s traditions.”

  “Which is exactly why you need Lucas.” Candice spread her ringed hands in a pleading gesture. “Look, if you won’t do it for yourself, do it for the rest of us. I don’t know about you, but I’m sick of living in the Middle Ages. If you can claim your father’s seat, you could persuade the rest of the council to dismantle the Traditions.”

  “If I can claim the seat, and if I can convince them. That’s an awful lot of ‘ifs.’ But I know that if I ask this cop of yours for help, Stephen is going to challenge him, and Stephen has never lost a fight. Is the freedom of a bunch of spoiled rich girls worth a man’s life?”

  Candice’s eyes narrowed under their dramatic eyeshadow. “Maybe not. But my daughter’s freedom is.”

  Elena winced. “Cheap shot.”

  “I don’t care. I want to know that when she gets married, her husband won’t consider it his right as a Chosen Alpha to beat her if she crosses him.” Candice dropped her voice to a mocking baritone. “‘She’ll heal. She must learn discipline.’” Making a lewd gesture at her imaginary daughter’s imaginary husband, she snarled, “Fold it into a pointy package and shove it up your hairy Alpha ass!”

  “Look, I’m not going to roll over for Stephen. I’m more than capable of fighting my own battles. I just don’t like the idea of using anybody else as cannon fodder.”

  Candice sighed. “You are not up to taking on Stephen Bradford in a fight. Lucas is.” She reached into a pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded envelope. Opening it, she produced a newspaper article and displayed it with a flourish. In a grainy color photo that took up most of the page, a tall, dark-haired man crouched, gazing intently at something on the ground. “Look at this guy. Six-foot-five, and that’s when he’s not furry. What’s more, he’s got the muscle to match. He could definitely take Stephen.”