Excerpt of Carnal Moon by Mel Teshco

Hell. This wolf was big. Intimidating. And he meant
business. His silver-gray eyes flashed as his tail arched
high, his snout compressed.

Pheromones thickened the air and sharpened acute need. The
flex and bunch of his muscles revealed his impatience a
split second before he surged toward her.

She leapt forward, meeting him halfway, her teeth bared as
she went straight for his throat. Canines sank past his
thick brown-black pelt and through corded muscle and skin
before drawing blood.

The metallic tang filled her mouth, intoxicating as any
drug. She whimpered even as he broke free and whipped
around, the dominant male ruthless and barely restrained.

His near shoulder rammed her hard and knocked her flying,
and she thudded onto the dry-baked earth, air whooshing out
of her lungs.

Shit.

She could do nothing but wait for the oxygen that finally
wheezed back into her lungs. And the male, damn him to
hell, prowled forward, completely aware of her plight.

He was in his element, his prime, and she squirmed
helplessly when his weight pressed her hard against the
earth. Rotting vegetation and pungent eucalyptus filled her
nostrils, quickly replaced by his raw male scent.

Every cell demanded she rut with him, seek the satisfaction
she craved. But she wouldn’t be an easy lay. She wanted
foreplay…at least, the werewolf version of it.

She faked collapse from oxygen deprivation, and as he
shifted to snuffle her face with his wet nose, she made her
move. Twisting free, she shot forward. Now she was in her
element. Even as a lycan, she was swift, a fact that
enhanced the chase, the rough and tumble.

Hard and fast was the order of the day, especially for a
male who knew he might have a rival to contend with, one
who could challenge claim to sire future generations. But
Holly could scent no other males as she used all the
inherent agility and grace of the wolf to outrun and
outmaneuver her counterpart.

He was up for the game and closed in fast. The brewing
storm crept upon them. Overhead, heavy black clouds
concealed the moon and plunged everything into darkness.
She knew that either of them could have changed back to
human in that moment. Neither did. It seemed that this was
a challenge he relished as well.

Lightning split the sky and briefly illuminated the ground
but Holly used her exceptional lycan sight as she jumped
from a rotting log and belly flopped into the creek she’d
earlier crossed. Her legs moving like pistons, she swam to
the other side, scrabbling for purchase on the slippery
bank even as he splashed in from behind.

The adrenaline of the hunt, the chase, was fast dissolving.
In some primeval part of her mind, Holly knew only the
strongest, fleetest and most powerful lycan—one who could
better her, master her—was worth mating.

Having a future generation of smart, tough, fast werewolves
was paramount.

Heavy raindrops splattered the earth when the large male
caught up and pinned her to the ground, his jaw clamped to
her ruff.

A lycan in lust was no gentleman.

A menacing growl rumbled deep in his throat—the male making
his intentions clear. He wasn’t to be messed with. Only
when she willingly surrendered, staying passive beneath
him, did his weight abruptly change, his form becoming
lighter and more compact as paws became hands and his lycan
body became human.

Holly felt the change come upon her immediately after and
she tried to relax as she endured the pain. To resist was
futile. Fighting the change made it almost intolerable. As
with all lycans, she had little control when changing from
human to beast as a full moon climbed the sky.

When sexually aroused, and with fulfillment close, lycans
invariably changed back into human form. None really
understood why they became human again—fear of bestiality?
Fewer cared. When hormones raced out of control, the
instinct to mate took over all logic.

Holly whined low in her throat, yielding quickly to the
stranger and to her own change. There was little time to
pacify the beast within. She needed to copulate, and she
needed to now.

Her fur abruptly withdrew into skin that contracted like
vacuum wrap. Her bones shifted and popped, her skull
growing even as her snout retracted.

He was a master at change. The process had been all but
over in seconds and hadn’t seemed to bother him one bit.
Clearly he had grown immune to the torment of change.

She sagged, hardly aware the hurting had gone and that she
was human once more, until his fangs retreated, his bite
became a kiss.

Facedown, she moaned. Electric shivers pulsed through every
nerve ending that his mouth touched. His tongue flicked her
ear, his cock nudged between her thighs.