Cynthia's Moon

If anyone is interested in proofreading/editing chapter 2, please contact me. Thank you.

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For nearly a year, Markus parked every morning down the street from the French consulate located in downtown Honolulu. The usual bustling of the busy road blended his truck and his vigilant gaze as another commoner among the crowd. He looked down at his watch at about 25 after 8 o'clock in the morning, and glanced his eyes back towards the sidewalk once more. There she was. Winding around the corner, in low-heel open-toed pumps, had been the reason for his surveillance spot for the last year. This Wednesday morning, she was dressed in a black pencil skirt, black stockings with a back seam tracing up the contour of her shapely legs, and a lavender blouse with the top two buttons pulled open to show the top of her breast line, but not enough to show any cleavage.

Elegant as always

, he thought.

She looked to be about in her middle twenties, standing about 5'6", a slender swimmer's build, raven black hair that she always straightened to her mid back, and skin that was tanned olive. Many believed her to be a local, born and raised on the island of Hawaii, because she was primarily Pacific Islander with a trace of Native American bloodline. Except that she was from the Mainland. The most distinguishing fact about this young woman that attracted him most to her, was that she was one of his kind; a werewolf. Markus fondly recalled the first day he met her a year ago.

* * * * *

Another droll morning in the Alpha's estate, Markus attended as the head of security wondering exactly why one werewolf was held with such importance to be greeted in a personal manner. Standing in the viewing room, which was a curved wall made entirely of tinted glass panels giving a nearly 180 degree view of a beach front just down from the manor, facing the east. A glass table was set in front of an all leather black couch that faced the windows, with the hands of a clock mounted at the underside of the table, telling the time with twelve frosted lines arranged in a rounded square in the center.

Markus stood next to the Alpha of the region, named Karus, while his mate and equal by the name of Sara went to see to the guest of honor.

The both of them held a double scotch on the rocks, mildly sipping from time to time while they waited for the niceties to begin. Markus was dressed simply in tan cargo shorts that came down to about knee level, and sandal shoes. His upper frame was covered by a black and gray floral print button down over a white undershirt. He left his hair down to settle at his shoulders, not bothering to tame it back for an occasion as this. Markus despised the many ceremonial circle-jerks that these Aristocrats put themselves through, this day being no different from any other event.

"So why is this one woman being received in such a way?" Markus glanced over to Karus.

"When the children of other Alphas arrive in a city, they're usually treated with higher regard than most."

"Ah." It sounded like bullshit to Markus, and Karus noticed the way that he responded gave his feelings away.

"And I received a letter from her father asking that I treat her kindly and to receive her on a personal note." Markus grinned at him, and the both of them took a sip of their scotch.

"Well, you know me, I'll just be here as part of the scenery until she growls the wrong way. What's her name?"

"Cynthia Arden." Karus articulated her name in a very regal and facetious tone.

"Yep," Markus smirked, "sounds like a bitch to me."

"Well, you know, daddy sending notice ahead of time to me, I doubt she'll stay in Honolulu more than a year before she runs back home to them."

Karus smirked and patted Markus' shoulder just as the sound of the front door closing spurred the two men to situate themselves to receive the woman. Karus was more finely dressed in black slacks with a white button down shirt that he left open to show hint of his toned chest, and his hair was gelled and slicked back because his wife wouldn't accept him presentable in anything less than his best.

The commotion of three voices overlapping in greeting caught Markus' ears. He couldn't wait to get out of there and do something more productive, like lifting weights. As Sara urged the young woman up into the viewing room, Markus withdrew from the viewing panels, which always seemed to take the breath away of any new visitor. Why deny this Aristocratic bitch anything less than that? He settled to a shadow and immediately blended in. If he held still, he was certain he wouldn't be discovered.

Karus approached the top of the steps first, looking slightly flushed. Markus couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or excitement. Following that was Sara, who he noticed had radiated a certain glow about her which said instinctive competition. It wasn't even a few moments later that Cynthia climbed the steps and was in view from behind the wall that sealed off the room.

Her face was so fair, her eyes were so green, and the attire she wore was not the usual slut-Gucci and Dolce whores he had seen presented before the Alphas. She wore a flowing summer sun-dress of green that had a white trim and detail around the cleavage and hemline, with buttons all the way down her front, pulling the dress firmly around her hour-shaped glass. Oh, how he envied the buttons right now, holding in the secret of every inch of her flesh he wished wasn't covered.

She saw the view for the first time, and her shimmered lips parted just softly to take in a deep and relaxing breath, approaching the window panes that flawlessly showed the rolling ocean hitting against the white sand beaches and the endless blue skies above. She let out a soft breath and folded her arms across her chest while the Alphas and Markus let her take it all in.

"It's beautiful. It's just what I need." Her voice was like honey, savored by ears he was so fortunate now could hear every hum and breath that left her mouth.

"So, what brings you to Honolulu?" A question piqued by Sara.

"I just finished college, and was offered a job at the French consulate. I've been mourning my husband for a good five years now and I want to start over my own way."

Cynthia turned gently on her brown and green sandals, looking toward the Alphas standing nearby one another as the conversation continued. Markus tilted his head to one side when her back was to him, taking in the curve of her body shape, the way her rear pushed out from beneath that dress. He could feel a full ache from the beast within, yearning to be near her, and drowning out the conversation under the sound of his heart pounding and the feral and lusting growls growing in his mind.

He needed a drink and brought the glass to his lips, but missed his mouth entirely, spilling liquor and ice down the front of him. The ice cubes hit the white carpeted floor with a soft thudding sound, and he withdrew quick enough that Cynthia didn't see him when she turned around to see what was the noise. Her nose wrinkled, picking up on a scent that wasn't either Alpha standing in front of her, but didn't pursue the curiosity that raised in her mind.

He never returned to the room, keeping himself confined to the guest bathroom until Cynthia left.

* * * * *

God, he had never been more embarrassed in his entire life, or made a bigger fool of himself in the dark. He was grateful that she wasn't witness to his idiotic moment, and then remembered what he wore. Ugh, he didn't straighten or tame his hair, he didn't wear anything he would consider presentable. The feeling of having been the king dork of that moment grew as an uncertainty in his chest just then and there. He laughed at himself, knowing he and the Alphas were the only ones to know of his stupidity that day. Since that day, he took a little time every morning to see her. It was the only way he felt that he could.

It was two and a half blocks from her penthouse condo to the French consulate. Half a block down to the corner, Cynthia would stop at the corner cafe and take a seat. The waiter there knew her by name and ordered the exact same thing for her each time. A mocha and croissant, and would bring her the newspaper while she waited.

Markus wanted to walk up to her table every single day. Find some small reason to talk to her, ask for a section of the newspaper that she didn't read. Of course, that left only the comics page and the opinion page, and Markus felt that to be either too juvenile or too liberal for her. Over the past year, men who had more bravery to approach her table and settle across from her were rejected. Markus was glad for that, but also certain he'd never get the chance to talk to her in that same regard. She still wore her wedding and engagement rings, mostly on the days when she didn't have a date, or didn't want to be bothered. That was damn near everyday.

The evening he was able to make himself known to her was not the ideal situation that he wanted to have happen. This Wednesday evening, his lovely in lavender was to encounter him for the first time. The rain fell in blankets against the pavement that night, hard droplets bouncing up almost a foot before they joined the overflow into the streets. Barely a soul could be seen until they were just passing by one another, and the street lights were a dull glow out in the mist that thickened the wet air, doing nothing to help the visibility.

When Cynthia stepped out onto the sidewalk, an umbrella shielded her body in what seemed to be a personal curtain of water. A small bubble that made her figure barely stand out in the weather that pounded all around her, and thudded in patterned sound across the roof and hood of Markus' truck. Her heels clicked across the wet pavement and her breath gently puffed out into the unusually cold air in soft white wisps.

She had just passed the angle where the cafe had been, and Markus was pulling the truck ahead on the street to look around the corner. A light shedding down on that curved edge was the only reason he saw her in danger that night. He knew something went wrong when he saw her umbrella roll on the ground, and the light perfectly cast down upon it to show that its owner was stolen from its protection. A glint of movement was seen at the near wall, her claws leaving marks as she was pulled into the alley way just two buildings away from her condo.

Fuck! Park the truck! Shit, cops. This is a yellow zone isn't it?!

Markus had to slide the truck further down the street without looking to be in a rush.

Cynthia felt her arm holding the taser wrenched behind her and twisted until she whimpered and let the small and heavy square hit the pavement. She could tell by his strength, and the earthen scent of the man's arousal that he was werewolf. She felt herself crushed against his strong body, with his hard erection pressing against her skirt when he rubbed against her backside. The intruder's breath and voice swirled into her ear, while his second hand was cupped over her mouth, allowing her only to listen to his deep and soothing tone of voice.

"Do not fight me or scream, and I won't tear up your pretty little throat."

She felt his nails sharpen and press against her jugular, and she nodded compliantly as tears bit at the bottom lids of her eyes, threatening to flow into the streams of rain water moving down her face. The feeling of helplessness wrenched at her heart and the feeling sunk into her stomach, sliding her blood to tingle throughout her body.

Her mind tried to hide her into the feeling of surreality in a futile attempt to take her away from what was about to occur, not believing that this was happening to her. He slowly walked her forward until her free hand pressed against the brick wall in front of them, while the rain beat down against her back, making that silk blouse see through and her hair stick around her neck in a matter of minutes.

She mentally cried out for help, for someone to stop this werewolf as his hand made quick work of lifting her skirt, then pulling loose every button of her blouse. Rain streamed its way down her body in a vessel that joined right over the center of her stomach and soaked into the front of her skirt. His hand cupped over her womb, before gently traveling over the plain of her navel, making his intentions clear to her. Her heart and breath quickened as panic stung at her nerves, slowly drawing her down from her shock.

His lips kissed her wet neck, growls possessively warming her skin, ending his travel when his hand clenched up at her breast roughly beneath her bra. He hummed at how pliable her flesh was, sinking his fingertips over the round that was firming in his grasp. Her nipple poking out, he captured it between his knuckles, sawing them back and forth over that precious nub.

She panted to his touch that held no urgency or ferocity, making it harder to perceive this physically as an unwanted act. Her attempts to back away from his wandering hands, repeated pushes off of the wall rubbed her backside against his waist, arousing him further. He moaned gently and leaned his chest to fit against her back, while grinding his hips against her bare ass. Softly, his dark whisper send a chill through Cynthia's spine.

"Eager, are we?" She huffed out a breath and felt both of his hands move away from her for a second. Immediately, she dipped away from him when he attempted to unfasten his pants. She didn't get far at all before he slammed her back up against the wall, with his hands clamped over her wrists. His body pushed against her back until she was unevenly crushed against the building. Compressed between both hard places, she groaned within her trapped breath, heaving in the next while waiting for him to release her.

"If you move again I will, I promise you, make this as painful for you as possible."

"Please, you don't want to do this."

"And why not?"

"I'm not your type."

That confused him for only a moment, drawing himself back from her just enough that she moved to escape again. He growled in his throat and held her firmly against the wall when he caught up with her again.

"Smart words, but not a smart move. You're very much my type, because I like a little fight in my women." He said with an obvious smile in his calm voice.

He held one hand against her back, pushing her chest against the uneven and rough brick wall while his other hand fumbled with the button and zipper at his jeans. Determination knitted his face, struggling to reveal himself and make quick use of this feisty little prize of his. When his length was free, he brought that hand to her curved rear, clenching it tightly until he heard her groan. He became entranced, watching her skin glisten as water pattered against her flesh, wetting her thong and revealing the outline of her sex through the flimsy fabric.

She shifted uncomfortably when his fingers dug past that lingerie and dipped into her warm depths, probing her gently. Despite all resistance, she became aroused. She felt it begin when the sawing of his two fingers touched a collection of nerves inside of her, searing pleasure throughout her muscles, and her claws dug into the wall. He withdrew his fingertips when he felt her sucking his fingers inside of her, letting that liquid sound of pleasure reach his ears.

He brought his fingertips up to taste her desire, and noticed something straightaway that sent his blood boiling. Snarling possessively seconds later, he clenched his hand at her long and curly hair, pulling her free from the wall and wrapping his arm her hips until she was tight against his waist. The rigid crown of his hard muscle slipped under her wet slit, rubbing over that testy little bead, causing her to moan both in pleasure and despair.

"You're in heat, I can tell." He growled against her ear. "I will enjoy this."

"Please stop." She sobbed softly when he guided her against the wall once more, and her thong was being pulled to one side by his thumb so he could enter her. When his heart started to throb in unison with hers, she could do nothing to resist what her body instinctively was responding to, as a werewolf.

Markus heard her soft pleading and growled noticeably from the entrance of the alleyway, having cautiously approached it. Before the werewolf could take her, or lift his eyes away from Cynthia, Markus' speed had lunged him at the rapist so swiftly that he was knocked away from her.

The two of them growled and struggled in the darkest corner of the alley for seconds that ticked along slowly. She couldn't see what was happening, but it was over before she could run away. She heard a loud whine before seeing the werewolf, who about knew her in the biblical sense, fly past her at a blinding speed and slam into a dumpster in that alley. She froze in utter shock of the strength that other werewolf had shown. The dumpster itself skidded about three feet and stopped at an angle, leaving her attacker unconscious and lying against it.

Cynthia panted frantically and lowered her skirt down, clenching her blouse closed with both hands while searching that dark alley corner, backing away slowly. She ignored the voice in her mind that was telling her to run, uncertain if this other Were was just taking out competition or genuinely helping her.

She could hear the deep and heavy breathing from the other werewolf that remained in the alley with her, a possessive growl leaving the end of every breath he took. Markus still felt rage and lust blinding him from being rational. Control was a foreign concept to him right now as he glared upon the woman of his desires standing before him, with every inch of her body soaking wet and shaking in shock and frozen in fear.

Markus could smell that she was in heat, and his primal side was winning over his attempts to sink back into his human form and resist the urge to pick up where the other werewolf had left off. Those golden yellow eyes of his pierced through the dark and Cynthia found the impulse to run, fleeing down the remaining yards to her building. She swung the glass door wide open and rushed inside, with her clothes soaked and her hands clenched at her blouse. The security guard to her building rose immediately from his chair, alarmed to see her in such a state.

"Miss Arden, are you alright? Do you need me to call the police?"

"No, please don't." She whimpered, holding herself back from crying as she hurried into the elevator and pushed the button for her penthouse. A trail of water was left from the entrance of the building to the elevator. When the doors closed and the elevator was humming softly in lifting her the few floors it was to the penthouse, she found the first moment of relief from her fear and panic. As her breaths calmed, her hands removed from her blouse, and shakily reached up to clasp over her nose and mouth. Her eyes narrowed and welled up, the first few sobs from her breath jerked out of her lungs, feeling cold and small in the corner of what now seemed to be a very spacious elevator.

Her hallway was one step too long, it seemed, stretching every hurried pace she took towards her apartment door like it was trying to get away from her. Stepping into her condo in pure adrenaline, all the locks on her door were secured, and every light was flipped on in every room. She locked every window, and pulled the curtains closed.

She was in her bedroom when she was done, panting in the silence when she had finished securing every square foot of her penthouse. She felt ill from her panicking, slowly lowering down on her bed and turning her face into her pillow, letting her frame shake with crying that now flooded from her eyes and breath and clutched her body in endless tension until she fell asleep.