Moon Glamour by Aimee Easterling (books to read to be successful TXT) 📕

emotion I couldn’t quite fathom struck me in the chest area. It was abruptly hard to breathe.

“But unnecessary,” the man continued, and for a moment I forgot what he was talking about. “I know what I look like.”

Oh, right. Human standards of external beauty.

“We have such a strange obsession with facial symmetry,” I observed, forgetting for a moment that I was talking to a male werewolf who could likely freeze me in my steps and force me to do his bidding. “Presumably based on the evolutionary advantage of choosing the healthiest mate. Infections during childhood....”

“These scars didn’t come from childhood infection.” His head cocked and he smiled, a slow display of sharp teeth that—I’ll admit—sent a tremor down my spine. I flinched and his mouth snapped shut, lips going instantly flat.

“I apologize.” His eyes struck the floor, as if he was afraid of me.

I wanted to stay and tell him he had nothing to apologize for. Because even as the tremor flew through me, I understood it for what it was—instinct no more rational than that which had disgusted the teenagers.

But I was late. My sister needed the cash this job would offer.

And this man was a werewolf. Dangerous to me in ways I couldn’t afford to handle. A threat to my tenuous understanding with another alpha, one that allowed me to see my sister while she lived far too close to the heart of his territory.

“Keep your chin up,” I told the stranger as I spun toward the open door. And why, when distance eased the tightness in my chest, was I left feeling heavy rather than light?

Chapter 2

I recognized my employer-to-be by the rose on her blouse, just like she’d promised. Unfortunately, my handshake wasn’t up to her standards.

“What have you been handling, Athena?” Marina offered in lieu of a greeting. Pulling a dainty, lace-edged handkerchief out of her handbag, she dabbed at her fingers as if we were attending a tea party rather than hovering at the edge of a roiling crowd.

Oops. I’d lost track of the grease from my sister’s fries in the midst of my werewolf sighting. Still, I wasn’t the only one who’d overshot societal cues.

“I replied to your message telling you this was a bad time,” I countered, “but your account had been closed.”

As I spoke, my gaze dropped to my cell phone. Harper’s weekly visiting window started in two hours. And while I’d been willing to be late to this job interview, if I didn’t show up in a timely manner at my sister’s boarding school afterwards, her dad would sneak in and “visit” instead....

“Do you have somewhere more important to be?” Marina’s voice was steely as she interrupted my contemplation of time and sisterhood.

I was losing whatever chance at this job I’d once had. Still, I answered honestly: “Yes.”

The word hovered between us for several seconds before Marina shrugged. “Then we might as well get on with it.”

As she spoke, she gestured up at the pseudo-Grecian facade of the museum behind us. Surely she didn’t mean...? I’d assumed this was a neutral public meeting place, not....

“I don’t steal from museums.” That clinched it. Marina was too much trouble and....

The check materialized out of nowhere. One moment my right hand was empty. The next moment, my fingers clasped a crisp rectangle of paper sporting more zeroes than I’d ever seen in my life.

I blinked. Magic? Or just my tired eyes playing tricks on me?

Either way, my free hand slipped into my pocket, feeling for the salt packet that went with my sister’s weekly fast-food treat. Harper liked her fries double-salted. She’d be sad if I lost her favorite seasoning.

Still, I found myself worrying one corner until it frayed open. Then I let a few grains dribble out onto the pavement. Better safe than sorry, right?

And...Marina took a single step backwards. Coincidence, I was sure of it. After all, magic didn’t exist. Well, I mean, magic other than werewolves.

Shaking off my uncertainty, I stuck to the tangible. “What’s this?” I asked, waving the check between us.

“The first half of your payment.” Marina leaned in closer than was really appropriate by human personal-space standards. She didn’t, however, step over the line of salt.

Still, she was close enough now for me to count her pores...or would have been if she’d had any. Instead, her skin was so smooth she might as well have been airbrushed. My nose, though, didn’t report any metallic hint of makeup.

Instead, Marina reeked of rose petals. Not from the flower at her lapel, which appeared to be a simple, unscented supermarket offering. But if the rose aroma emanated from a perfume, why couldn’t I distinguish an oil or alcohol base?

Curious. Still, it was the zeroes that prevented me from taking my own step backward, that prevented me from hightailing it away to my more important engagement. “What do you want in exchange for another check like this one?” I asked finally.

Marina’s lips didn’t turn upward, but I scented her smugness. I’d been the first to cave. She’d won that round.

“Follow me,” she promised, “and you’ll find out.”

SHE TURNED AWAY, HEADING up the stairs without waiting to see if I’d follow. I flared my nostrils...and something furry and wild impinged.

Wolf. Not from Marina. Not from the ugly-fascinating man I’d met inside either. Instead, the scent rose from behind me, the variety of sub-odors suggesting multiple shifters were present amid the chattering humans entering and exiting the museum.

I itched to swivel and hunt for trouble. Instead, I kept my eyes on Marina. After all, she was the more immediate danger and I’d run out of salt.

“The museum doesn’t own the object in question,” she called back, heels clicking as she strode up the marble steps away from my stationary figure. “It’s on loan from a rich, white dude. And isn’t your sister’s tuition due soon?”

Her knowledge of my preferred thieving target—complete with slang that sounded awkward on her lips—plus my familial weakness was chilling. More dangerous than