Full Moon by Rachel Hawthorne (best biographies to read .txt) 📕

When we finished eating, Connor and I decided to join Brittany in the pool room to give Lucas and Kayla some privacy. Walking inside, I was disappointed to see that all the tables were occupied. At the one nearest to the door, the young guy leaning over the table about to make his shot looked up and met Connor’s gaze. With a shrug, he laid his cue stick down, bumped his partner on the shoulder—who set his stick on the table—and they both leaned against the wall, arms crossed defensively over their chests. Their reactions told me two things: they weren’t yet eighteen and they were one of us, because apparently they recognized an alpha wolf when they spotted one. It was like that with our kind. Until we had the ability to go all furry, we gave way to those who could. It was a sign of respect.

A Static might have felt sorry for the two guys. After all, they were there first. But in order for our culture to work, a hierarchy had been established. As a Dark Guardian, Connor was at the top of the food chain. I had to admit that I felt a swelling of pride as he put his hand on the small of my back and led me to the table.

“I’ll rack, you break,” he said as he began taking the balls out of the pockets and rolling them toward one end.

I picked up the cue stick the first guy had set down. It was the right size for me. As I began chalking it up, I shifted my gaze over to Brittany. She’d finished whipping the butt of the guy who’d followed her into the room—or maybe he’d let her win so she’d relax around him. They began to set up for another game.

“What’s wrong?” Connor asked quietly as he slid his arm around me and pulled me close. A possessive move. His question seemed to be a frequent one lately.

“I don’t know. That guy. I’m not getting good vibes off him. He’s not one of us.”

“A hiker maybe. Mountain climber.”

“A spy,” I added.

“I think he’s harmless.”

“That’s what we thought about Mason.” He’d managed to capture Lucas in wolf form. If not for Kayla, Lucas might still be living in a cage somewhere, on display like a prized possession.

“Good point.” He looked over at the young guys. It seemed to me that they had stopped breathing, waiting for his assessment. “Thanks for the table, but we changed our mind. We’re going to play with a friend.”

Brittany was leaning provocatively over the table when we arrived. She swept her gaze slowly over Connor, before taking her shot—and missing the corner pocket she’d been aiming for.

“All right!” the stranger said, with a grin. “Maybe this time I have a chance of winning.”

He handed his beer bottle to her, before taking up his position to make a shot. With a dare in her eyes directed at me, she took a swig.

“You’ll get kicked out if Mitch finds out you’re drinking,” I told her.

“He has to catch me first, and he’s busy.” She took another swallow, before tipping the bottle toward the guy lining up his shot. “This is Dallas. He’s new to the area, here to do some hiking. These are my friends, Lindsey and Connor. They’re destined for each other.” Her words were almost slurred, and I wondered how much beer she’d had.

“Cool,” Dallas said, amused. He nodded at me and touched two fingers to his brow in a salute to Connor, then sent two balls flying into opposite side pockets.

“He’s also very good at pool. Game over,” Brittany said.

“You don’t know that,” Dallas responded as he pocketed another ball. “I could miss if you come over and distract me.”

Smiling, Brittany shook her head. Maybe the reason none of the guys declared for her was because she gave the impression she was unavailable. She never flirted with anyone.

“Thought we could team up, challenge you guys,” Connor said.

“Sure. Nothing like a friendly game to get to know each other better. Let me just finish up here.” And Dallas quickly cleared the table of balls.

“See?” Brittany asked. “You guys don’t stand a chance.”

“We’ll see,” Connor muttered beneath his breath.

Our kind was nothing if not competitive.

While Connor and Dallas each rolled a ball across the table—whoever got it to stop closest to the far end would break—I nudged up against Brittany and said in a low voice, “So what’s his story?”

“Says he’s a hiker.”

“You believe him?”

“No way, too pale.”

“One of Mason’s minions?”

“Maybe.”

Nothing like spending all day in a lab to prevent a tan.

Connor won the right to break, and I felt that little spark of pride again. My guy. But as he made his move to strike the balls, I shifted my gaze over to Dallas. He was watching the room as though he was expecting trouble. I felt the wariness creep through me.

We were at a disadvantage. Our best warriors were here, but they wouldn’t be able to shift in front of all these tourists. We’d worked diligently to keep our special abilities a secret. But now I felt as though we were walking around with big signs taped to our backs saying, Caution: We shift at will.

Even though I couldn’t shift yet. Soon, though. Very soon.

Connor called my name, and I realized it was my turn to shoot. I moved over to stand beside him. He pointed toward a solid ball. “That should be an easy shot.”

I nodded jerkily.

He put his hand on the small of my back. “Relax.”

“I know it’s totally irrational, because I have no evidence for it, but I can’t shake the feeling that there’s trouble coming,” I whispered.

“We’ll handle it.”

I had this déjà vu moment from last summer when I’d been assigned my first group of campers to lead out into the wilderness. I’d been so worried that I’d do something to get one of them hurt. Connor was going with me. “If something happens,