Read New Moon Summer (Seasons of the Moon) for Free Online Page A

hotel.”
    “But—”
    He didn’t give her a chance to argue. Abel strode away, leaving her alone with a chilly breeze and darkening skies.
    She kicked a rock into the rosebush.
    “Some Alpha I am,” she muttered.
    Rylie waited on a stone bench in the gardens, sheltered under the branches of a tree. She played games on her cell phone until she beat her score on Bejeweled Blitz for the third time, and then put it away to keep from killing the battery.
    Still no Abel or Seth.
    An older couple jogged into the hotel, casting worried looks at the sky. They didn’t even give her a second glance under the tree.
    Five minutes later, she understood why. Thunder rolled in the black clouds as wet circles began appearing on the cobblestone path. The hush of rain on leaves followed an instant later.
    Within seconds, it was pouring.
    Rylie was dry under the tree, but she couldn’t leave unless she wanted to get soaked. She sat tight with her carry-on bag at her side and Abel’s shirt hugged around her, more grateful than ever for its warmth.
    A woman ducked under the tree with her, holding a newspaper over her head. “Nice day, huh?” she asked, shaking rain out of her jacket’s lapels. Rylie shirked back as she got splashed.
    “Yeah. It smells nice.” The scent of wet asphalt and soil wasn’t the only nice part about the rain—it also had a dampening effect on all the other confusing smells that had been bothering Rylie.
    The woman gave her a weird look at that. Her silky black hair was chopped in a perfect A-line at her angular jaw. “I was being sarcastic.” Her jacket gapped, and Rylie glimpsed a camisole and shorts. The newcomer was no more prepared for the weather than Rylie.
    “Are you a guest at the hotel?” she asked.
    “No. I’m just looking for someone who is.” She folded the newspaper and glared at the sky. “I’m Pagan. What’s your name, kid?”
    “Rylie?”
    Pagan arched a thin eyebrow. “That’s a man’s name.”
    Annoyance made the wolf stir inside Rylie.
    “Oh yeah? What kind of name is Pagan?”
    “Heck if I know. You’d have to ask my parents that one.” The woman stepped beside the bench, and her perfume wafted toward Rylie—a musky, flowery scent that almost made her gag. “Looks like the rain isn’t letting up anytime soon. Man, the streets get totally dead when it pours, don’t they? But that’s good. Means there aren’t any witnesses.”
    Witnesses?

    Too late, Rylie smelled silver.
    And then there was a gun in her face.
    She ducked. A shot rang out.
    Rylie hit the ground with her hands over her head, braced for the burning agony that followed getting hit by a silver bullet. Someone cried out, and it took her a moment to realize that it was Pagan—not her own voice.
    The pain never came.
    Pagan fled. Her feet flashed past Rylie’s face.
    Another gunshot rang out.
    A hand jerked her to her feet, and she thought it was Abel for an instant, and she was relieved enough that she wanted to hug him tight. But he was too short to be Abel, and his hair was too long.
    Rylie recognized his smell before his face.
    Gunpowder. Leather. The musk of sweat.
    “Seth,” she whispered.
    “Are you okay?” her boyfriend asked, grabbing her upper arms. Seth looked a little older than she remembered. He was growing into a more adult frame. His shoulders were broader, his arms were thicker, and his voice was maybe a fraction deeper. “Are you hurt? Did she—”
    “I’m fine, she didn’t hit me, nothing hurts.”
    “Thank God .” He lifted her in his arms, squeezing a laugh out of her. “You’re crazy, you shouldn’t be here,” Seth said, but he kissed her before she could reply.
    It had been too long since she had seen him, been held by him, kissed his lips. Rylie could have vanished into his embrace. She wanted to roll herself in his smells and drown.
    He set her on her feet, and she ran her hands over his face, tracing the familiar cut of his cheekbones and ears and forehead. His