Trapped With A Luna Werewolf

The car came out of nowhere, horn blaring, bright lights reflecting off the curtains of falling snow. Spencer Moore let out a curse as a streak of red passed him on the right. His kept on swiping across his windshield with his wipers, trying in vain to keep the thick snow at bay. Didn't that lunatic driver realize they were in the middle of a large snowstorm with high winds? On a mountain road? Despite the snow chains, the tires of his Range Rover slipped on the icy slush and he tightened his hand on the wheel. Just ten more miles and he'd be to the cabin. He'd driven this road for a decade, but with the situation and all the white stuff coming down onto the mountain road, it was really difficult to gage exactly where he was. The only thing that mattered was that he was long gone from Louisiana and whatever was in the water. There was no other explanation for four devoted bachelors to all find love in the span of six months. And while he was happy that they'd found their mates, and he couldn't wait “to become an uncle, he much preferred his bachelor lifestyle. His brother and cousins had started talking to him finding his mate the moment John and Mary had gotten back together. And more than a month now, they hadn’t let up. Even the women were in on it. The moment his favorite ski resort had announced an early season opening, he'd high tailed it out of there. Spencer didn't want a mate because he is a quite person.He just wanted some peace and to catch some fresh powder. He wants forget the painful memories that clawed at him every time he saw one of the women that had infiltrated Moore pack. What he hadn't bet on was trading hurricanes for the snowstorm bearing down on him now. Or the flash of red that jerked his attention to the right side of the mountain road. Spencer immediately stepped hard on the breaks, trying to avoid the red car and the snow bank at every cost. For a disgusting moment, the world was a streak of white. He hold onto the steering wheel aggressively as he fought to keep the tires on the road. The antilock brakes kicked in and the vehicle slowed, but Spencer exhaled too soon. Within a short period of time, the tires slipped in the slick snow and the back wheels swung left. Curses rent the air and his luggage rolled around like a stone in a tin can. Lucky let out a startled bark from the back seat. Eventually, when everything was still, the Range Rover was pointed down the mountain. A gust of wind cleared enough snow out of the air that he could see the bright red car almost buried by a stack of snow drooping off the side of the mountain. He relaxed his teeth, worked his jaw and made a sigh of relief. So much for a relaxing vacation. The formerly groggy Labrador was now wide-awake in the backseat. Lucky let out a deep bark and hit Spencer in the cheek with his tail. His nose pressed against the side window as he let out another woof. “Are you all right?” Lucky sighed in that purely canine way that said he wasn’t moved with the situation. The other driver made no attempt to back out of the dune and Spencer noticed that the car have been wrecked by the i***t. He pulled out his cell phone and flipped it open. He'd report the wreck and wait until the wrecker got here. No signal. Great. He slightly moved the phone aside and reached behind the passenger's seat for his coat. Maybe the wanker in the other car had a phone that would work. Tendrils of snow rushed into the car as he opened the door. Bracing against the icy wind, he planted one boot in the ankle deep snow and then the other. Tugging on his thick parka raincoat he headed down the road toward the other car once again so as to question his decision to try to beat the storm. The engine is down due to the collision, mangling what he could see of the front end. Ah hell. A blonde lay bowed over the steering wheel, not moving. The back of her grey sweatshirt was soaked with blood. He knocked on the window and wished he'd tugged on his gloves. The woman didn't move. He looked closely into the car, looking for a phone and he saw a large purse squeezed between the steering wheel and her chest. He tested the handle of her door. It was locked. The small window behind the driver’s seat was fractured, half the glass missing. He reached through the gaping hole and tossed the lock. Wrenching the door open he checked the pulse at her throat. Still throbbing . He braced both hands around her neck and the base of her skull and then, he gently settled her back in her seat and took stock of her injuries. And impressively adorable features. She looked like an angel, a cherub, with attractive pink lips. With a b****y gash across her forehead and — was that a pink streak in her hair? He leaned closer. And a thick purple stripe too.