Cry for the Moon by Marie Treanor

Cry for the Moon, a short Christmas story I wrote a couple of years ago, focuses in the beginning on a tragic element of many people's Christmas - loneliness. My heroine is so lonely after the loss of her husband two years ago, that she's spending Christmas alone in an isolated cottage, with a suicide plan.

Not festive!

However, since this is romance, unexpected hope comes to Ruth. And this does seem right for Christmas! So, thinking of the real life lonely this Christmas, and wishing them new hope and better things, here's an excerpt from Cry for the Moon...

Holiday Howlz: CRY FOR THE MOON

By MARIE TREANOR

Available Now from Changeling Press

A lonely woman spends Christmas by herself in the country cottage she once shared with her beloved husband, a soldier who disappeared without trace two years ago. She has finally accepted that he's dead and is even contemplating suicide.

On Christmas Eve, a knock on the door heralds the arrival of a homeless man in ragged clothes who bears a staggering resemblance to her husband. However, he doesn't know who he is, or what has led him to the cottage. Recklessly, she lets him stay the night, but begins to suspect she may have made a terrible mistake when, in the midst of unexpected passion, a wolf flees howling from her bed.

*

Ruth lost herself in her dream, the remembered feel of his lips and tongue, the caress of his hand on her breast while the other sneaked up her skirt to stroke her thigh and hip and slide round between her legs. She was wet for him, always eager and the discovery made his breath hitch as he slid his fingers inside her panties to find the slick nub of her clitoris. Jared’s fingers… she loved his fingers, adored the pleasure they gave her. But soon, she wanted more. She turned in his arms, burrowing under his sweater to pull it over his head before unzipping his jeans and dragging out his fully erect cock. Raising herself in his arms, shivering as his hands closed around her naked hips, she gazed into his hot, devouring eyes as she lowered herself onto his cock. God, it felt so good, filling her, answering her every desperate need…

A loud knock shattered her dream. Whisky sloshed over her hand as she jumped. Who the hell could that be? Whoever it was, she hated them for interrupting her dream. It had almost felt real.

Standing, she dashed her hand across her wet face. Shit, when had she started to cry? As the knock came again, loud and impatient, she walked unsteadily to the door, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she went.

She was a woman, alone, in an isolated cottage at night. But she ignored the danger. She’d been beyond caring for some time. In any case, it must be Jane or Charlie in the midst of some emergency.

She flung open the door, “What is it?”

And found a tall man leaning one arm across the door frame, staring at her. In the contrast of the lit cottage with the darkness outside, she couldn’t make him out properly, but he seemed to be large and ragged and unshaven. And by some unkind trick, he managed to look like her husband.

Her throat dried up. Shock and grief kept her frozen. Had she fallen asleep in front of the fire and was dreaming? After all, she’d had dreams like this before, where he came back… Only he hadn’t looked so… rough.

He moved, pushing his head forward into the light and she saw that of course it wasn’t Jared. This man had blank, wild eyes, not the thoughtful, intelligent, often cynically amused ones of her husband. And he was too thin, too unshaven. Jared had never had stubble growing all over his neck like that…

The man took a step nearer her, and instinctively, although she wasn’t frightened, she took one back. She blinked. In the glow of light from the cottage, his neck no longer looked so hairy, though he clearly hadn’t shaved for some time. Unsure, she lifted her gaze back to his.

He stared at her, a frown etched between his thick brows. Or were they really so thick? Perhaps they were just untidy. But his eyes… her mind was playing tricks, for his eyes seemed to be exactly the same shade of bright, piercing blue as Jared’s.


Incidentally, Cry for the Moon is also part of the Wolf Hunt series, and is available in this ebook collection, together with Urban Wolf, Forest Wolf and Galactic Wolf.


WOLF HUNT - E-book collection, by MARIE TREANOR - Available Now from Changeling Press:
Only sex can restore the damaged wolves. Will love destroy their vital mission, or save the world?


Commenters on all Changeling Press posts - including this one! - will be entered to win a past Changeling Christmas series! 

Marie

Cry for the Moon

Before I move on to today's first except and contest, I just want to remind anyone who'd still like a free copy of my Christmas short story, Gothic Wolf (see Monday's post!), that you can still email me for it, right up until the end of the party :). Marie AT MarieTreanor DOT com, with Gothic Wolf in the subject line :).

Now - I'm not quite sure what the attraction of paranormal creatures at Christmas is, but to me it's irresistible. Maybe it's something to do with the magic of Santa Claus that becomes lost in adulthood - perhaps we're trying to get it back in a slightly more grown-up sort of a way :)

Whatever, here's an excerpt from another paranormal Christmas story of mine - and there's a contest to follow...

Holiday Howlz: CRY FOR THE MOON
By MARIE TREANOR
Available Now from Changeling Press

A lonely woman spends Christmas by herself in the country cottage she once shared with her beloved husband, a soldier who disappeared without trace two years ago. She has finally accepted that he's dead and is even contemplating suicide.

On Christmas Eve, a knock on the door heralds the arrival of a homeless man in ragged clothes who bears a staggering resemblance to her husband. However, he doesn't know who he is, or what has led him to the cottage. Recklessly, she lets him stay the night, but begins to suspect she may have made a terrible mistake when, in the midst of unexpected passion, a wolf flees howling from her bed.

*

Ruth lost herself in her dream, the remembered feel of his lips and tongue, the caress of his hand on her breast while the other sneaked up her skirt to stroke her thigh and hip and slide round between her legs. She was wet for him, always eager and the discovery made his breath hitch as he slid his fingers inside her panties to find the slick nub of her clitoris. Jared’s fingers… she loved his fingers, adored the pleasure they gave her. But soon, she wanted more. She turned in his arms, burrowing under his sweater to pull it over his head before unzipping his jeans and dragging out his fully erect cock. Raising herself in his arms, shivering as his hands closed around her naked hips, she gazed into his hot, devouring eyes as she lowered herself onto his cock. God, it felt so good, filling her, answering her every desperate need…

A loud knock shattered her dream. Whisky sloshed over her hand as she jumped. Who the hell could that be? Whoever it was, she hated them for interrupting her dream. It had almost felt real.

Standing, she dashed her hand across her wet face. Shit, when had she started to cry? As the knock came again, loud and impatient, she walked unsteadily to the door, wiping her eyes on her sleeve as she went.

She was a woman, alone, in an isolated cottage at night. But she ignored the danger. She’d been beyond caring for some time. In any case, it must be Jane or Charlie in the midst of some emergency.

She flung open the door, “What is it?”

And found a tall man leaning one arm across the door frame, staring at her. In the contrast of the lit cottage with the darkness outside, she couldn’t make him out properly, but he seemed to be large and ragged and unshaven. And by some unkind trick, he managed to look like her husband.

Her throat dried up. Shock and grief kept her frozen. Had she fallen asleep in front of the fire and was dreaming? After all, she’d had dreams like this before, where he came back… Only he hadn’t looked so… rough.

He moved, pushing his head forward into the light and she saw that of course it wasn’t Jared. This man had blank, wild eyes, not the thoughtful, intelligent, often cynically amused ones of her husband. And he was too thin, too unshaven. Jared had never had stubble growing all over his neck like that…

The man took a step nearer her, and instinctively, although she wasn’t frightened, she took one back. She blinked. In the glow of light from the cottage, his neck no longer looked so hairy, though he clearly hadn’t shaved for some time. Unsure, she lifted her gaze back to his.

He stared at her, a frown etched between his thick brows. Or were they really so thick? Perhaps they were just untidy. But his eyes… her mind was playing tricks, for his eyes seemed to be exactly the same shade of bright, piercing blue as Jared’s.

He said, “Who are you?”

She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the dream to end, because it didn’t seem right to let the stranger have Jared’s   voice, even if distorted with some hoarse, gravely element it had never possessed in real life, only to deny any knowledge of her.

“I’m Ruth. Who are you?” Not Jared. Even in a dream, not Jared. Life sucked.

“I don’t know...”


To enter the drawing for a download of Cry for the Moon, tell us what paranormal creature you think goes best with the Christmas spirit :). The contest will close at midnight tonight and the winner will be announced tomorrow morning on this thread.

The Clothing Difficulty

As a writer, one of the annoying continuity issues I often have with werewolf and shifter stories, is what to do about clothes. Your shifter changes, either exploding out of his clothes, or removing them prior to the change. Which is fine until he changes back. If your shifters live in a wider society, he just can't run about in the scud. So do you bring him back to the place he left his pants when he changed? Do you have him carry a little bag in his wicked jaws as he runs amok? Or have him shift back next to a handy rack of clothing, cleverly introduced to the story beforehand?

Or do you have him arrested for indecent exposure?

It was playing around with those knotty problems that brought the idea for the Wolf Hunt stories into my head. Because it struck me that in ordinary society, a naked person is not just perceived as a threat, but must feel extraordinarily vulnerable among his clothed fellows. If you add the panic of not being able to remember why you're naked, or how you got to where you are, or even what your own name is, then how would even the most capable hero cope?

So the opening scene of Urban Wolf was born, and led to a trilogy of futuristic novellas and a short story, now all together in one ebook collection from Changeling Press. Here's that naked snippet :)


WOLF HUNT - E-book collection
by MARIE TREANOR
Available Now from Changeling Press

Only sex can restore the damaged wolves. Will love destroy their vital mission, or save the world?

Who’s hunting whom?

A man wakes up naked and alone in a city doorway -- with no memory of how he got there or who he is. For journalist Rose Winter, a wolf story begins to converge with the sexy naked man she’s trying to help. And a chain of events is set in motion that may change Earth’s future…

Human-wolf hybrids, created by a top secret government project, have been released into the world to find and destroy alien infiltrators. But once these soldiers begin to think for themselves, their missions are complicated by attraction, sex and divided loyalties.

This collection contains the previously released novellas Urban Wolf, Forest Wolf, Cry for the Moon, and Galactic Wolf.

****

"Hey, what's going on?"

The female voice seemed to cut through his skin. Clear, brisk, curious, with a warm pitch that spoke straight to his cock. Or would have, had that organ not been so shrivelled with rain and cold. A ripple moved through the hostile crowd. Voices muttered and he had to strain to catch the words.

"I know her. I'm sure I do."

"Who is she?"

"She's that girl on the newscreens. Shit, she's probably got a camera. I'm off..."

Threatening arms in the crowd lowered. Stones dropped casually on the ground with a scattering of dull thuds and several people drifted away.

A young woman emerged from the dispersing crowd, pushing down a rain hood to reveal luxuriant long hair of a bright and rare shade of amber, falling around a face that he supposed was beautiful. Certainly, her bone structure was exquisite, her lips full and tempting, her eyes large and brown...

But it wasn't her beauty or her melting eyes that truly caught his attention. It was her smell. Frowning, he tried to place it. Did he know her? Surely that scent was familiar... Something about it filled his mind with visions of naked, sweating bodies, mainly his own and hers.

She came to an abrupt halt and stared at him. Oh yes, she was highly fuckable, and yet, stronger than his upsurge of unexpected and inconvenient lust was the desire to put his hands around her elegant, swan-like neck and strangle her.

He flexed his fingers.

The older woman was explaining. "Art found him asleep in his doorway when he came home from night shift. Must be a drunk or a down-and-out, some kind of pervert too. Look at him!"

After her first flickering glance, the newcomer seemed to be rather determinedly focusing on his face. "He must be freezing," she said unexpectedly. In an instant, she'd stripped off her raincoat, revealing an orange bodysuit that seemed to match her hair, and bright, chunky beads around her throat. She advanced upon him.

He fell back, giving ground before her as he hadn't before the stone-throwing mob.

She paused. "I won't hurt you. What's your name?"

His throat closed up. Panic threatened to resurface. Her eyes searched his. Every hair on his body stood up in alarm. Though he'd no idea who she was, either, his every instinct was against trusting her.

"Where does he live?" she flung over her shoulder.

Silence and a few shrugs. "Why's he scared of her?" someone muttered.

Scared? Was he? Forcing himself, he stayed still when she took another step nearer to him. Maybe. But it felt like a powerful tug of lust. Mixed with an equally strong urge to exterminate her.

"He's not scared of her," answered another voice with a definite snigger. "He likes her."

She heard them. He could see it in the color soaring into her neck and face. He even admired the way she deliberately didn't so much as glance at his growing erection. And yet it didn't embarrass him. Perhaps he was an exhibitionist after all.


:) Marie

Release and Award News!

Wolf Hunt, the anthology containing all three of my Wolf Hunt novellas, plus the Christmas short Cry for the Moon, is officially released today!

WOLF HUNT - E-book collection
by MARIE TREANOR
Available Now from Changeling Press

Who’s hunting whom?

A man wakes up naked and alone in a city doorway -- with no memory of how he got there or who he is. For journalist Rose Winter, a wolf story begins to converge with the sexy naked man she’s trying to help. And a chain of events is set in motion that may change Earth’s future…

Human-wolf hybrids, created by a top secret government project, have been released into the world to find and destroy alien infiltrators. But once these soldiers begin to think for themselves, their missions are complicated by attraction, sex and divided loyalties.

This collection contains the previously released novellas Urban Hunt, Forest Wolf, Cry for the Moon, and Galactic Wolf.

Hope you'll help me celebrate at my Author Island cyber launch party! http://www.cyberlaunchparty.blogspot.com/.

My other news of the week is that Awakening Beauty, the Fairytale Fantasy I co-wrote with Bonnie Dee, has been nominated for a Best of 2010 Readers' Award at the Love Romances Cafe! 

If you care to, you can vote for it between Jan 22nd and 30th.  No early voting will be allowed or accepted. Winners to be announced on the LR Café Loop on January 31st at Noon EST. Voting will take place on Dawn's Reading Nook Blog. Each category will have a separate post and to vote, comment your choice in the comment area.
Link to Dawn's Reading Nook Blog is: http://lovesbooksandmore.blogspot.com/.

AWAKENING BEAUTY
by BONNIE DEE and MARIE TREANOR
Out now from Samhain Publishing

To fight this evil, they’ll have to make love. Lots of love.

Fairytale Fantasies, Book 3

Joel Thorne feels as if he’s been sleepwalking through his life. Wealth and success are his; now he’s at a crossroads. Politics beckons, a move that would be made easier with a loveless marriage of convenience to his ambitious friend and ally, Vee Gabor. During a long mountain hike to clear his head, he discovers a castle overgrown with thorns and, inside, a beautiful sleeping woman.

When Princess Aurora opens her eyes, Joel’s handsome face is imprinted on her heart—then she’s swamped with grief and loss. An evil fairy tried to take her pure blood to gain power, and though her other godmothers fended off the worst of the curse, she’s been asleep for a thousand years. Worse, she’s been erased from history and from the memories of all she loved. True love brought her back, but to what future?

Despite their instant, strong attraction, Joel’s practical nature wars with the possibility that magic is real. Yet with every touch, every kiss, the heat and emotion grow more real than anything he’s ever known. Their union also reawakens something else. Something darker. An evil fairy’s centuries-old vendetta that just won’t die.