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Blood Moon

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kickass heroine
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Blurb

At sixteen, Elouise Montgomery's parents and brother were betrayed and murdered by their beta. With no-one left to carry on her family's legacy, she fights to become the alpha of what could have been the strongest pack the word has ever seen.

Two years later, two murders lead her pack into a war where the odds are not in her favour. And as if things can't get any worse for her, she finds her mate fighting for the wrong side.

Extract:

“Tell me,” his voice was deep and guttural. I felt it in my bones. “Are you the cause of your pack’s collapse? Did you fail so poorly as an alpha that you single-handedly managed to clear decades worth of reputation as quickly as you did?”

I could have slapped him. I could have grabbed a fistful of his hair and bashed his face against the edge of the table and cause enough damage before Wyatt could even bring himself to try and stop me.

But my pack was already at war and I didn’t need to add Lucas to the list of people who wanted me dead.

I took in his words because I didn’t have a choice. I stared at him because there was nothing else that I could do. But in that stare, I pulled every thread of my being, every string of strength, pain, spirit and power and I used it all to give him a glare worthy of an alpha.

He flinched when my eyes blazed. “I would do things for my pack that you couldn’t even imagine.”

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Prologue
Prologue Elouise’s POV Claws scratched the surface of the stone floor, the sound entwined with their drooling growls that multiplied with the echo. I stood, back straightened and head raised, looking into his eyes. “I assume you’re familiar with the phrase ‘An eye for an eye?’” I taunted. My pack surround me. Close enough to rip this man’s throat out if he hurt me, but not close enough to stop me from doing it with my own hands. Their growls intensified; low, intimidating. I nodded towards my beta for him to lead our group around the Silver Tail wolves—so called because the original founder and every descendant of his is born with a tail of silver no matter what the rest of them looks like. Stone arches lined the walls with three on each side actually carved to go somewhere. They were the only part of this room, with the marble carved wolves sitting outside each door, that didn’t make it feel like we were trapped in this basement. Candlelight glowed from our exit.  This discussion wasn’t supposed to lead us down this far. Carlos Sanchez, the alpha of the Silver Tail Pack, stood still. Three wolves prowled behind him. The largest one, with golden fur and ruby eyes, was Darius Prince who killed one of our own. His wolf snapped his jaw at our disposition, but it seemed to annoy Carlos more than it did us. He turned to glare at his beta. “Pardon me,” Carlos said with his silk voice carrying his authority across the space, “I don’t recall murdering a member of your pack.” He moved from the dooming shadows with a single step, clasping his hands in front of his body. His body was tall, thin and too pale like a fresh glass of milk. His wolf was the colour of steel until his face which bloomed black fur to match his human hair. Like every alpha, Carlos could silence a crowd with his one look—a gift granted to him by the Moon Goddess.  “That’s because you didn’t.” I take a step to meet him, his pack and his authority, stringing mine into my voice. Carlos didn’t falter as much as I wanted him too, and any intimidation he did feel was covered up by an impressed smile. I gesture towards his beta with a nod, “he did.” Carlos turned to the golden wolf—most likely to communicate through the mind link, but it didn’t look like Darius was being scolded for his actions. I kept my stare forward as my own pack communicated. “When do we jump?” asked my eager beta. “Not yet,” I reply, “keep your guards up and strike only on my orders. Carlos is looking for a fight.” His wolf nods and the link is silent. Carlos turned. His eyes had every hue of the forest, circled by a river of blue. So vivid it was like staring at a venomous animal attracting its prey with its body. He gave me a polite smile. “I’ll be happy to discuss this matter with your alpha.” My lips curled; my pack laughed. Carlos looked away from me to watch my wolves, his limp posture and half-closed eyes made it seem like he was unphased by our mocking. An act. “Of course,” he continues to my pack’s delight, “I fully understand if that is not possible. If an alpha would rather send his luna to fight his battles for him, then he isn’t worth my time.” He removed a gold band from his finger, tucking it deep into the pocket of his grey pants. There was another chorus of laughter from my pack which Carlos ignored. I take another step forward, my pack closely behind me in sync. There was no space between us now as I looked up at him. My eyes flared with the gift from the Moon Goddess. I felt his breath on my face and forced myself not to recoil. “You are speaking to the alpha.” It was time for the Silver Tail Pack to laugh but we didn’t care: it’s too be expected from wolves who live under a rock. I begin to laugh too. Their noise fades. “Luckily for you, we don’t hurt lunas here. Tell your mate to drop by though.” My eyes narrow. With the reputation of the first female alpha probably pinching his thoughts, he looks to his beta for help. The golden wolf crawled backwards, his tail between his hind legs. Carlos’ glare is nowhere near as threatening as it was when we first arrived. “You’re serious?” “Of course.” I’ve become used to that look, that tone. The doubt that sinks into their bodies and pools behind their eyes. Perhaps I should do the same back. Perhaps I should look at them like they are wrong and unworthy of being an alpha—if they had shown that sort of weakness to anyone else, they would find themselves drowning in their wounds. “There’s no need to panic… I’m not going to burn your homes and devour your children.” A point I find I have to make often. His eyes scan my body, no longer looking at a luna, but still not looking at an alpha. They linger, they search my unmarked neck. “Perhaps not, but you did come into my pack house and kill one of my wolves,” he accuses. “Technically, I didn’t.” I twist my body to show a wolf behind my legs. “Edward did.” The skinny red wolf growled. Carlos barely gave him any notice. “A member of your pack now, I assume.” His hand moved in his pocket. I nodded. “They killed someone of mine. You’ve started a war.” “Stand down,” I yelled through the link to wolves itching to eat his stomach. “Don’t growl, don’t move, don’t do anything until I say otherwise.” “A war… for getting even?” “For breaking into my house, attacking my pack. A smart alpha would have requested a meeting with me and settled this with a deal—not an ambush.” At this, my wolf growled in my mind. She stirred and begged to be let out. I wanted to free her. Instead— “How would you know what a smart alpha would do?” Darius stepped forward, I didn’t even glance before my beta had stopped him. Carlos’ eyes were shining amber as his wolf tried to break through. His fingers twitched near his pocket and with a quick look to Darius, his hand curled into a fist. “I will let your pack leave this territory alive, as honour demands.” I almost snorted. “Come near us again, and we will kill you.” “Is that all?” One look at Darius told me he was talking to his alpha. He kept his eye contact with me, playing this game so much better than Alpha Carlos ever could. “Yes.” He slides his ring back onto his finger and turns. He, his beta and two other wolves leave the stone room.   * After Jack accommodated Edward and dressed himself, he met me in my father’s study. Dust clung to the surfaces and the drawers became stiff. I found what I was looking for in the bottom drawer, hiding beneath layers of old letters and loose papers. My father’s leather-bound journal holding answers that, if I were a smart alpha, I would have studied long before tonight. I ran my finger over the engravement, a moon setting over a river. He wrote down everything he knew about every pack surrounding us from how they met if they had, their history whether new or old, the relationship our pack had with them before he died, and circled very prominently was whether or not it was safe to trust them. I’m not sure how accurate that part will be considering it was trust that killed my family. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here,” Jack comments. I looked up from the book. Jack had his back against the desk as he looked around the room. The walls matched the furniture being off-white, but I can’t remember if it was by choice or just how it had aged over the years. The cupboard doors were made from dark oak with circular silver handles. On every shelf was either a dead plant, photo frame of our family or tightly packed books. I didn’t reply to Jack. I untied the leather straps keeping the diary closed and flipped through the crisp pages until about mid-way where he had dedicated two pages to the Silver Tail pack. “Does it say anything?” I nod. “It says lots of things, that’s why there’s so many words.” Jack doesn’t humour me with a response of his own. He gives me a look I don’t have to see to recognise. “Their allies are unknown, if that’s what you want to hear. Dad wrote not to trust them and that they like to attack unsuspecting packs—savage and victorious. One of their biggest victories was slaughtering the Amberskies.” Jack’s expression mirrored the feelings I was suppressing. “If they attack us, we’re…” he couldn’t finish the sentence.  “Screwed, to put it lightly.”   

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