Midnight Vow: A Paranormal Wolf Shifter Romance (Wolves of Midnight Book 1), page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Also By
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Text and cover design
Copyright © 2023 Becky Moynihan
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. And resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Published by Broken Books
www.beckymoynihan.com
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express permission of the publisher.
Paperback ISBN: 979-8-9883737-0-4
Cover design by Becky Moynihan
Cover model by Ravven
www.depositphotos.com
Be wild. Be free.
1
Sneaking out the back door in the dead of night wasn’t the best idea I’d ever had.
Then again, I wasn’t exactly known for my brilliant ideas.
But tonight, of all nights, should have kept me indoors. Tonight, I was the most vulnerable. Most weak.
With a soft click, I secured the door’s lock. Not that it mattered. Not when I was on the wrong side of the door.
Lock yourself in the cellar, Nora.
Don’t come out until dawn, Nora.
It’s for your own protection, Nora.
Nora.
Nora, are you listening?
NORA!
Yeah, yeah, yeah. I was breaking the number one rule. The rule that had kept me alive for twenty-two years. Even during my time away at college, I’d obeyed the single most important rule: Don’t go out at night on a full moon.
I knew what would happen if I did. Knew firsthand the consequences should I be caught.
But I’d finally found someone to help me with my little problem. A legit someone. I wasn’t chasing after a wild dream this time. This was real.
My family—my pack—would understand. Would support my brave venture. Right?
Wrong.
They’d lock me in the cellar for the rest of my life if they knew what I was attempting to do.
Best to keep my plans to myself. That way, no one would feel compelled to rat me out to Alpha Hendrix. He’d just about had enough of me and my hairbrained schemes.
Nora, are you trying to put me in an early grave? he’d say, then delegate me to some menial job as punishment.
If I had to dispose of deer guts one more time, I’d pull my hair out. The pack should be cleaning up their own messes, thank you very much.
I was tiptoeing around the side of my parent’s old white farmhouse, yards away from my yellow rustbucket pickup in the driveaway, when a shrill alarm went off—the one I’d accidentally set out of habit.
Cursing, I reached into the front pocket of my duffel bag and ripped out my screeching phone. With a swift tap, silence descended once again. Except for my heart. It pounded out of control, louder than the crickets singing in the long grass.
I stood stock-still. Waiting. Hoping against hope that no one had heard.
Several seconds passed and I started to breathe easier. Until my ears picked up a sound.
A howl.
All the hair raised on my body.
The eerie noise shivered through the pine and maple trees backing the thirty-acre property. Followed by another. And another.
“Crap,” I hissed, and bolted for my truck. My bag slapped against my thigh as I ran the short distance. Frantically unlocking the door, I wrenched it open and dove inside. Once the door was firmly shut behind me, I scrambled to start the ignition.
A pathetic wheeze filled the interior.
“Please, baby, please,” I begged the old Ford pickup and tried again. “I promise I’ll change your oil this week.” Another wheeze. “New brake pads? I know you’ve been wanting those.” Wheeze. “Come on!” I shouted, banging the wheel.
She started with a sputtering cough.
“Yes, yes, yes!” I crowed and flicked on the headlights. When the beams caught on a pair of glowing yellow eyes near the treeline, I bit back a scream.
Time stood still as the eyes simply stared at me. Unmoving. Unblinking.
Slowly, ever so slowly, I put the car in reverse.
The eyes winked out.
My heart jumped into my throat and I stomped on the gas, gunning backward down the dirt driveway. My poor truck clanked and groaned over the rough path, the headlights fishtailing every which way. I frantically searched for the eyes again, but they could be anywhere. Anywhere.
I was nearly to the road when something huge rammed into the truck. I screamed for real this time as metal creaked and shuddered under the impact. Yanking the wheel, I plowed right into the mailbox before switching gears and stomping on the gas. The truck lurched forward and I cleared the drive, shooting down the road at breakneck speed.
Only then did I dare to glance in the rearview mirror. To watch as the pair of yellow eyes gradually faded from view.
I spent the next several minutes calming my racing heart and fighting off the need to laugh. Not that anything was funny. Not even a little bit. Laughter was just my natural response to stressful situations.
There’s something wrong with you, Nora, but there’s nothing we can do to help.
Laugh.
Stay away from the other pack members, Nora, or they might lose control of their instincts and kill you.
Laugh.
When you graduate college, you must come back home. It’s for your own protection.
Laugh.
Laugh.
LAUGH.
I should be crying. Bawling my eyes out right now. Screaming. A member of my pack had just tried to kill me. After all these years, I was still a target. I hadn’t seen the wolf clearly enough to know who it was, but it didn’t really matter. My own mother would have attacked me if I’d been caught outside unprotected.
It was a fact I’d known for years. Ever since I’d been old enough to shift . . . and hadn’t.
Something was wrong with me, all right.
I was a natural-born werewolf who couldn’t shift.
In all honesty, I should be dead right now. The instinctual need to shift into animal form should have driven me wild with insanity. Should have torn me apart from the inside. But here I was, stuck in my human form on the night of a full moon. Full moon. And my wolf was still dormant inside me as if she didn’t exist.
The other members of my pack couldn’t understand it. Something like this had never happened before. A child born of two werewolf parents was fated to become one too. No ifs or buts about it.
The disease, as some called it, was highly contagious. Even a scratch could trigger the change. No one knew exactly when or how werewolves had been created, only that our toxin was linked to the moon’s cycle. Every full moon, we had no choice but to wolf out. Over time, it was possible to control the shift, but not fully. A wild animal could never truly be tamed, after all.
And then there was me. A purebred werewolf, descended from several generations of wolves. Powerful werewolf toxin pumped through my veins.
And yet, I was wolfless. Weak. Practically human.
Prey.
My very presence threatened pack dynamics. But, for better or worse, I was their responsibility. It was dangerous for me to go off into the world alone. I was still a wolf, even if half my pack had tried to convince me otherwise.
But tonight, I was going to prove them wrong. Tonight, I was going to finally—finally—unleash my wolf.
No matter the cost.
The drive to Burlington only took me half an hour. I’d driven this route countless times during my college years, returning to my childhood home every weekend. It’s not safe for a wolf to be alone for too long, Alpha Hendrix had repeatedly told me. Especially a weak and unpredictable one like you, Nora. Not that my pack had missed me while I was away. My absence had probably been a relief for them, even for my parents—despite them never saying so to my face.
No matter. All those years of them barely tolerating my presence were about to be a thing of the past. After tonight, they’d welcome me back with open arms. The risks would be worth it when I saw their surprised—and happy—faces. I’d no longer be Underhill Pack’s shameful little secret. I’d be a true member. One they could be proud of.
Arriving at my destination, I claimed the farthest available space in the parking lot near the docks. Even though I was risking everything by coming here, I still had an innate instinct to be cautious. I didn’t know these people. I’d found them through a chatroom on the dark web, for heaven’s sake. Still, I believed they were legit. I’d spent weeks tracking down sources and confirming that Blackstone Coven was a bonafide witch community.
They specialized in hexes, which meant that they could break them. With that kind of power, they should be able to unleash my wolf.
Hopefully.
“Leave your doubts at the door, Nora Elizabeth Finch,” I scolded myself and killed the engine. My poor beat-up truck pitifully sighed and fell silent. Pulling the tie off my wrist, I quickly corralled my wild ginger mane into a messy bun. One look in the visor mirror told me what I already knew: I was nervous. More than nervous. My lightly tanned skin looked pallid, the dusting of freckles on my cheeks standing out in stark relief. And my pupils were so dilated that the aqua blue of my eyes was barely visible.
Squeezing them shut, I took several calming breaths before reopening them. I could do this. What’s the worst that could happen? The urge to laugh bubbled up again. I viciously bit into my lips and reached for my phone.
I’m here, I texted my contact and hit send.
Less than a minute later, I received the reply: Last boat slip on the east side. The Black Maid. Come alone and unarmed. No phones or wires.
My heart rate soared once again. I almost chickened out this time. If I wasn’t so desperate, I would have. But I couldn’t live like this anymore. Couldn’t bear one more second. I’d rather die trying than barely exist. Than remain this . . . this thing. Not a human. Not a wolf. Not normal.
So I unbuckled my seatbelt and reached for the door handle. At the last second, I turned my phone back on and hurriedly sent another message.
Love you, was all the text said. Anything more would alert my best friend that I was up to no good. As my college roommate for the last four years, there was little Brielle Lacroix didn’t know about me. I’d even caved and told her about the supernatural world. But she was human, and I couldn’t let her get caught up in this. Witches weren’t the friendliest bunch.
On an impulse, I sent the same message to my parents, just in case. In case I never came home again.
Before doubt could badger me once more, I tossed the phone onto the passenger’s seat and grabbed my duffel. Slamming the door shut, I swung the bag over my shoulder and headed for the marina. At least it was well lit. Having a dormant wolf meant no night vision. No nothing. Not a single supernatural ability.
Which meant that I was powerless against these witches if they decided to pull anything.
“Great pep talk, Nora,” I grumbled with an eye roll. “Way to see the glass half full.” I wasn’t usually this pessimistic, but I was really going out on a limb here. More than usual.
I shivered, tugging my oversized plaid shirt closed over my white tank top. Vermont nights could get a little chilly, even during the summer months. I’d worn ripped shorts and white Converse shoes, which I was second-guessing now. Maybe I should have dressed up a little. My casual outfit didn’t exactly scream, “I know what I’m doing so don’t mess with me.”
Before I could turn around, my feet hit the dock. The sound of creaking wood beneath my soles gave me a fresh boost of determination, and I strode forward with purpose.
Almost there. This will all be over soon. Just put on a brave face and show them that signature Nora Finch swagger.
I didn’t know what I expected witches to look like—it’s not like I’d ever seen one in person before—but the wildly eclectic group that greeted me wasn’t it. For one, they weren’t all female. I knew that warlocks existed, but I didn’t expect to find one here—especially one who looked like a young Jackie Chan with a top knot.
“Hey,” I said and stuck out my hand. “I’m Nora. Nora Finch.”
His dark eyes narrowed on my hand, then went to my duffel. “I thought my instructions were clear.”
“Oh, you’re my contact?”
His eyes narrowed further. Okay, wrong thing to say.
I switched tactics. “Your instructions were perfectly clear. I just brought a change of clothing with me. You know, in case I wolf out and shift back afterward. Then I would be naked, and that could be kind of—Hey!”
I lunged for my duffel as a dark brown hand appeared out of nowhere and snatched it from me. The warlock stopped me with a firm head shake.
I raised my hands complacently. “Okay, fine. That’s fair. We’re understandably a little distrustful. Witches and werewolves don’t typically do business with each other.”
We all watched in silence as a curvy little witch with boho braids rummaged through my bag. Finding only clothes, she beckoned at me with a pointy bejeweled nail. “Come.”
I blinked. “Oh, okay. Thanks. Should I just . . . ?” The hot asian dude stepped aside, allowing me entrance into the boat’s covered interior. “Cool.”
Biting my lips so I wouldn’t ramble—or laugh—I boarded the expensive boat and followed Boho Braids through the open door. Another brown-haired witch with pale skin watched me pass, her expression more curious than unfriendly. When I offered her a small smile, she quickly looked away. She and the warlock brought up the rear as we descended a few short steps into a rather spacious cabin.
“Nice boat,” I couldn’t help but say, scanning the pristine interior. It smelled of herbs and what I could only guess was magic. “Are you sure you want to do this here? I’d hate to ruin anything, especially that leather seating area. We could—”
“Stop talking,” Boho Braids demanded, whirling around to face me. My mouth snapped shut. She dropped my duffel before reaching out to grab my arm. “Payment first. Then we discuss.”
It took everything in me to hold still as she yanked up the sleeve of my plaid shirt. But when she positioned a dagger-sharp nail at the crook of my elbow, I shied away with a grimace. “Wait, hold up. You said a vial of my blood as payment. Don’t you have a syringe?” Or something sanitary?
“Do you want our help or not?” the witch said in clipped tones, her accent heavy.
“Yes, but—”
“Then stop delaying. We only have a short window before the moon reaches its zenith.”
Okay, that made sense. Still, I—
I emitted a short cry of pain as she jabbed her nail into my skin. Deep. Deeper. The other witch placed a shallow bowl beneath my elbow just as blood trickled from the wound.
“Manifesto,” Boho Braids crooned, waving her other hand over the wound. My mouth fell open as cerulean blue lit up her hand. Magic. “Reveal to me all that is hidden. The past, the present, and the forbidden. Unlock thine secrets, they are now mine. I command the passage of time.”
With morbid fascination, I watched as the blood in the bowl started to bubble. She repeated the words, yanking her nail from my flesh to grab the bowl. The bite of pain barely registered; I was too focused on the magical ritual. Pressing on my wound, I waited for something to happen. Maybe the blood would form words. Or start talking. I didn’t know how these things worked. Maybe—
Boho Braids stuck a finger into the blood and brought it to her lips.
Ew.
When she sucked the digit into her mouth, her eyes fluttered shut and she moaned.
Double ew. I thought they were witches, not vampires.
“Such power,” she breathed, drawing her finger back out. “It speaks to me. Calls to me. Come out and play, little wolf. I want to see you with my own two eyes.”
Okay, this was getting a tad creepy.
I slowly began to pull away, but she snatched up my arm again.
Surprised, I met her eyes, only to find them blank. Glazed. She started to tremble, digging all five of her pointy nails into my skin.
“Hey, let go,” I warned, and attempted to tug my arm free.
“Keisha, what is it?” the brown-haired witch whispered, excitement flashing in her hazel green eyes. “What do you see?”
I tugged again, but her grip only tightened.
“Stars and moon above, help us,” Keisha moaned, shaking so hard that the bowl in her hand slipped. With a flick of her wrist, the other witch stopped the bowl midair. Not a single drop of blood spilled. “A wolf she is, that is true. But something else lies hidden within, making her two.”
