Read Marked by Moonlight for Free Online Page A

moment those lovely eyes—unbefitting such a cold, harsh man—glared at her in the mirror. She focused on the tiny flecks of gold, too numerous to count near the night-dark pupils.
    The hand on her waist moved to the opening of her robe and yanked it open, giving further credence to his utter ruthlessness. She gave a tiny gasp, mortified when the robe parted down to her navel. Thankfully the sash was belted tight enough to keep at least some of her business private. But not all. A single breast spilled out of her robe. She grappled to cover herself, but he was bent on his own agenda. He bared her shoulder and thrust it forward until her head almost banged into the mirror.
    Her gaze dropped to her shoulder. With a single, ruthless yank he tore off her bandage, and she quickly forgot about covering herself. Smooth, unblemished skin was all she saw. Not a scratch in sight. It was a miracle.
    â€œHoly shit,” she muttered into his warm hand, doubly shocking herself at her use of profanity. She rarely swore. Her father insisted ladies did not curse. Yet if there was ever a time for profanity, this was it.
    â€œThere’s nothing holy about it. Your DNA regenerates at a greater speed now,” he replied, apparently able to decipher her muffled exclamation. “You’re facing eternal damnation unless you start listening to me.” He dropped his hand from her mouth and cocked an eyebrow in question.
    Their gazes clashed in silent struggle: his urging her to accept the impossible, hers steadfast in disbelief. Although more disturbed by the disappearance of her wound than she was willing to admit, that didn’t mean she bought into his outrageous claims.
    His gaze scanned her face and then dropped, examining the rest of her. All of her. He pushed his hips harder against her and she moaned far back in her throat. Belatedly, she recalled that more than her shoulder was bared for his inspection. With clumsy hands, she yanked her robe back in place, but not before his gaze burned across her exposed flesh and her treacherous nipple pebbled and hardened, rising in salute to his silent appraisal.
    The hard length of his body tightened like a wire behind hers, singeing her through their clothes. A sudden rush of moisture gathered between her legs, so sudden, so immediate, she almost came on the spot.
    A telltale hardness swelled against her lower back, prodding insistently. The temptation to turn around and rub against that hardness insinuated itself. Her gaze shot up in the mirror. Twin flags of red stained her cheeks. Mortified at her body’s reaction, she wiggled free from the hard press of his body and the wedge of counter, taking refuge in the far end of the room. Putting several feet between them, she fought for breath in the charged air.
    His scent followed her. Earthy smells. Cedar, pine, and aroused male filled her nostrils. Clearly her imagination worked overtime. No way could she smell him several feet away.
    The throbbing ache between her legs alarmed her, but not nearly as much as her longing for him to assuage that ache. Her body had never reacted this way before.
    He had to leave. Immediately.
    â€œGet out!” She pointed a shaking finger in the general direction of the front door, her voice shrill and unsteady. “Now,” she hissed.
    Their eyes clashed in a battle of wills. At last, Gideon March turned to leave, but not before pausing to say, “I’ll give you some time to think. This is a lot to digest. But this isn’t over. On the next full moon, you will shift. And you will kill. I need your cooperation if I’m going to help you.”
    â€œGo away,” she urged, resisting the urge to weep from the inexplicable want that burned her blood. “I’m not a—” She couldn’t even utter the word aloud, wouldn’t give it that much power. “I don’t need your help,” she finished.
    He nodded slowly, his pale eyes strangely