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

“As delightful as it was to meet you all...” I rose, or tried to. Unfortunately, Tank’s loose grip on my fingers had hardened to the implacability of iron.

“This is important,” he told me. “My alpha’s territory is close to the node this year. We have pack mates there overcoming trauma. Pups who require a safe haven. Their fate depends upon Samhain Shifters. On us.”

His point made, he turned his attention to Lupe. “Athena has skills our team lacks.”

I hadn’t thought Lupe was particularly impressed with me, but she nodded. “Our team could use another woman. Consider it your civic duty to participate. Like voting, but more intense.”

To save the world...or at least werewolf pack bonds? For half a second, I wavered. This was what I’d dreamed about when I was a child. Making a difference, not stealing baubles from and for the rich.

But childish dreams didn’t last into adulthood. “Does the job pay?” I countered, knowing it didn’t.

Only, I was wrong. “I could squeeze a little out of the budget,” Lupe answered, ignoring the way Butch’s face wrinkled in disgust that, on him, still appeared beautiful.

So that’s what this was? Another job interview? “I’m flattered,” I answered, “but no.”

After all, squeezing out a little cash didn’t sound like it was going to pay Harper’s tuition. I couldn’t afford to save the world pro bono.

Saying no to werewolves, however, was a bad idea. I tensed, fully expecting the kid gloves to come off.

Instead, Tank released me. Released me...and pressed a business card into my hand before I could retreat.

“At least think about it.” His words and his touch made it hard to swallow.

Still, I managed to rise this time without being yanked backwards. Took a step away from the table...and no one leapt up to stop me.

“Sure, I’ll think about it,” I said, knowing every one of these werewolves could smell my lie.

Chapter 6

Which is how I came to be both saltless and late when I rolled into the parking lot of Harper’s prestigious boarding school. Despite the buzz of voices elsewhere, the picnic table where my sister and I always sat was empty. But the scent of middle-aged alcoholic led away from the table along with an aroma that matched my sister’s shampoo.

Unlike most werewolves, I couldn’t latch onto signature aromas. A symptom of my face blindness, likely. But the combination of coconuts and stale beer could be none other than Harper and Nick.

So I followed. Hurried down a tree-lined path, out onto a grassy field...and stopped in my tracks.

There in front of me was the slender and ever-moving body I’d recognize from a mile away as Harper. But she didn’t have her feet on the ground. Instead, she was perched atop a horse that could likely trace its ancestors back to the Mayflower. Its neck curved proudly, hair shining in the sun.

In contrast, my sister appeared a little shaky—after all, this was only her third term at Highlands and most of her time had been spent catching up on the academic and the social. Still, she was riding. My kid sister, an equestrian. My cheeks stretched into a doting grin.

Harper was too engrossed in her task to notice me, but Nick did from atop his own horse. His greeting was fake-jovial. “Athena. Pull up a horse.”

So...my stepfather wanted something. Still, I strode forward. “You look good, Harper,” I called to my sister.

She swiveled in her saddle to wave, loosening the reins as she did so. Which is the moment disaster struck.

I can’t say whether all horses dislike all werewolves. But I can say that equines have never been my biggest fans. Still, I was too far away for the horse to have been bothered by me. Or at least so I thought.

Still, a haze of floral scent curved around me in a mini-tornado. Fallen leaves whipped up, flashing across the field in a burst of color. One second later, Harper’s purebred steed flinched as the wind and debris slapped it in the face.

Maybe it was the leaves or my own wolf scent flowing in the same direction. Whatever the reason, Harper’s horse rolled its eyes to show white as it flared its nostrils. Then, whipping its head sideways, it yanked the reins out of Harper’s hands and broke into a run.

THIS WAS MARINA’S FAULT. I somehow knew it. A warning? A test?

Didn’t matter. My sister was atop a runaway horse.

Her feet had already slid out of the stirrups. She grabbed for reins that whipped wildly. Came up with only a few tendrils of mane.

And Nick, who was a mere six feet away, watched impassively. Or maybe he was frozen with terror. I’d give him the benefit of the doubt.

I wasn’t frozen. Even though my inner wolf might have been what set the horse off in the first place, I sprinted toward disaster rather than away from it. Hooves slammed down inches from my sneakers, but I dove beneath the massive beast’s neck anyway. Slid my fingers between polished leather and hot flesh...

...And hung on as the horse reared up, up, up. I didn’t weigh enough to keep the beast from rearing. Didn’t know enough about horses to prompt it to stop.

Harper shrieked. I could just imagine her sliding straight off the animal’s back. If she hit the ground wrong, she’d break her spine....

And there was nothing I could do about it. Not until the ride reversed.

Down, down, down. My feet struck just before the horse’s did. Then Harper was beside me, alive, whole, grabbing the reins and jerking them sideways to force the horse to walk rather than rear again.

“I think maybe your wolf spooked her,” she told me, voice solid even though her chin quivered. “I’ll walk her away from you....”

Suiting actions to words, she turned the massive beast and started it moving. Pride and fear made my eyes stay on her even as I strode in the opposite direction. Harper was nothing