Secrets in the Moon (Crescent City Werewolves #1)

Chapter One

Cora Marshall had dressed very carefully in anticipation of the detective's arrival. She wasn't sure what a murderer looked like, but with every newspaper in the city declaring she must be one, each action on her part gained significance.

Her fingers nervously played with the diamonds at her neck while she looked out the window at her father's study. Maisie, the maid, had already been told to show Detective Hayes into the study as soon as he arrived, so now there was nothing to do but wait and fret. Cora detested both options.

Determined not to fidget, she picked up the nearest newspaper and read its screaming headline. PACK VIOLENCE SHATTERS CITY.

As she scanned the first paragraph, Cora felt the skin between her eyebrows pinch. More severed heads had been found in the streets. The werewolf kings were always at war with each other over expanding their territories, but lately the violence had spiraled close to human areas.

Well, but that was the price to pay when living among monsters, wasn't it? Glittering days hid bloody nights. If Crescent City was a rose, lush and full and envied by all who saw it, then werewolf packs were the sharp thorns hidden among the leaves.

Still, as Cora read through more of the article, chewing her lip over a detail about a girl's body found near a territory line with her throat ripped out, she couldn't help wondering if she'd made a mistake in reaching out to consult Detective Hayes. A werewolf living among humans instead of with a pack surely held some restraint, and yet a beast was still a beast no matter how fine of a suit he wore.

Then Cora huffed at herself and folded the newspaper, hiding the headline again. What good would it do to worry? She had no one else to turn to, and time was running out. Besides, if this wolf thought he could make a nice meal out of her, he'd quickly learn how she was one bunny that would bite back.

Just as she dropped the paper back onto her father's desk, the doorbell chimed. Cora's heart leapt up into her throat, but she only turned to the window again, smoothing her face into a pleasant blankness while Maisie's muffled voice drifted over.

"You'll find the lady right through here, sir."

"Thanks."

A deep voice, clear and confident. Brimming with that snap to the syllables that marked an inner-city dweller from high society and its arch manners. It was almost enough to make Cora turn around, but she forced herself to keep still, to stare out at the gardens below as if some fussy old hyacinths were the most fascinating things in the world.

At the sound of footsteps entering the room, she finally let herself look over. All the rehearsed words waiting on the tip of her tongue melted away, and her careful expression thawed into a brilliant smile. "Oh! You're nothing like what I expected."

What had she expected? After weeks of interrogations with police detectives, a vague image had formed in her mind, merging with portrayals of private investigators she'd seen in the theatre: someone older, perhaps even her father's age. Flabby from chasing down criminals with his intellect instead of his feet. A wrinkled mess of a suit, a carelessly-knotted tie. Fingers stained with nicotine from countless cigarettes, beady eyes that absorbed every detail in sight, and a suspicious air that would require a lot of coin to smooth into diligence.

She couldn't have been more wrong.

For one thing, this Samuel Hayes looked to be in the prime of his life, without a strand of grey in his dark, neatly-combed hair. His suit was understated but well-tailored, emphasizing a lean, powerful body, and his tie was perfect against his crisp collar. Yet it was his eyes that truly captivated her—deep gold like a wolf's, and just as wild.