"Arthur, Keri - Ripple Creek 01 - Beneath a Rising Moon" - читать интересную книгу автора (Arthur Keri)

sky, she could feel its presence. Feel its power.
The full moon was too close. She shouldn’t be here.
Shouldn’t be doing this when the wildness within was so
close to the surface.
But she’d made her promises. She intended to see them
through, no matter what the cost.
She let her gaze roam the dance floor again.
Somewhere down there, a killer lurked. A man who was
using this secluded, exotic retreat as his own private
hunting ground.
A man she had every intention of finding. And slaying.
She raised her glass and finished the last of her wine.
The alcohol slithered warmth through her body, and
perspiration beaded her skin. Hunger rose, flashing white-
hot through her veins. She closed her eyes, took a deep
breath.
Not tonight. Please, not tonight.
But the pulsing need suggested it was already too late
for such prayers. The wildness had woken. It would not
remain leashed for long.
Maybe she shouldn’t bother even trying. The killer
seemed to be choosing the more adventurous of this
wanton crowd. Unleashing the wildness might be the
quickest way of attracting his attention.
Bile rose up her throat, and she swallowed heavily.
While she had no real choice about what she had to do
tonight, she wasn’t about to give the wolf within free rein.
She wasn’t like any of the hunters who danced on the
floor below. Her world was one of sunshine and restraint,

of trying to live normally.
These people rejoiced in the night and the power of
the moon. They came to this mansion for the freedom and
the safety it offered, seeking to sate the moon-spun lust
surging through their veins. That was why most of the
men were naked. Why most of the women wore little more
than wisps of material that covered everything and yet
left nothing to the imagination. Only their faces were
concealed. Once the moon’s spell had faded and daylight
returned, they would fade back to their packs, picking up
their lives where they’d left off, not knowing the face of
any of those they’d chosen to mate with the previous night.
Unlike her pack, these wolves were free spirits,
exhilarated by the thrill of the chase, by the excitement of
capture and possession. The belief of one mate, one life
partner, had never touched these dark halls.
But for her promise, she would not be here tonight.
She put aside her glass, then adjusted her ornate mask
and made her way down the stairs. The deeper shadows
that lined the walls were filled with hunters in various