An excerpt from Keri Arthur’s Full Moon Rising

By M*C News Feb 5, 2006, 15:54 GMT

In this exciting debut, author Keri Arthur explodes onto the supernatural scene with a sexy, sensuous tale of intrigue and suspense set in a world where legends walk and the shady paths of the underworld are far more sinister than anyone envisioned. A rare hybrid of vampire and werewolf, Riley Jenson and her twin brother, Rhoan, work for Melbourne’s Directorate of Other Races, an organization created to police the supernatural races–and ...more

After an hour of tossing and turning, I gave up and got up. I pulled on my favorite Marvin the Martian T-shirt to ward off the slight chill in the night, then headed into the kitchen and grabbed a large glass of milk and the jar filled with chocolate chip cookies. Then, from the well-padded comfort of my favorite armchair, I ate, drank, and watched the night give way to a brilliant red dawn. When the sky show was over, I typed up my report on Rhoan’s laptop, then e-mailed it to Jack. The phone rang a second later.

I leaned back in the chair and grabbed the receiver off the wall.

“Hi, Kel.”

Husky laughter drifted down the line. Kelly had one of those voices that would have made her an instant hit on the phone-sex lines. “And how did you know it was me?”

“Because I left a message on your phone, and because everyone else knows better than to ring me at this unholy hour of the morning.”

“And yet you are up, which means you have a problem.” She hesitated.

“Is it just a desperate need for sane feminine conversation? Or is it something more serious, like needing that all-dick, no-brain of a mate taken off your hands?”

I grinned. Kelly didn’t like Talon any more than Rhoan did, but at least she could see the benefits of keeping him around. Men as well hung as Talon weren’t all that common. “Actually, I just had a question.”

“Well, damn. I wouldn’t have minded a bit of well-endowed werewolf action right now. But ask away.”

“Did you talk to Rhoan before he left? Have you any idea where he was headed?”

“No, and no. Why?”

“I’ve just got a feeling he’s in some sort of trouble.”

“Not the sort that has taken ten of our number already, I hope?”

“No. Not yet, anyway.”

“Good.” She paused. In the background was the soft ticking of a clock, meaning she was in her quarters at the Directorate. The only clock in her own home was the mother of all grandfather clocks. It was so large—and so loud—that I was forced to leave the room when it chimed. “I’m due to go out again tomorrow night. I’ll see what I can find if he’s not back by then.”

“Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Get me into a club during the moon fever, and we’ll call it quits.” I grinned. “Done deal. See you later.”

“Arrivederci, bella.”

I replaced the receiver, then rose and headed back to the kitchen.

I wasn’t the world’s greatest cook, and most days I tended to burn whatever it was I was cooking. But I could usually manage muffins, eggs, and bacon without too much damage. Luckily for my stomach, it was one of those days. As I dished it all up, I glanced toward the door and wondered if my naked vamp wanted anything to eat. Not that I intended offering myself. Rhoan always kept a good supply of synth blood in the fridge, simply because he needed it. We might be twins but I was more werewolf, my brother more vampire. He didn’t have the extendable teeth, ate and drank normally, and could walk in sunlight as well as I, but when the full moon began to rise, so too did his need to consume blood.

I grabbed a synth pack from the fridge, then picked up my plate and walked across to the door.

My grubby but sexy vampire was sitting where I’d left him, in the shadows to the right of my door.

“Have you eaten?” I asked.

Surprise flickered through his eyes. “Are you offering?”

I grinned and tossed the plastic pack to him. “Hardly. But my flatmate always keeps a stock of synth blood. You’re welcome to that.”

He caught the pack deftly in one hand. “Thank you. It’s most considerate.”

“In other words,” I said dryly, “the offer sucks, but you’ll make do.”

Humor touched his luscious lips. “You are very adept at reading people, aren’t you?”

Only nonhuman races, and only because of what I was. I shrugged, and sat, cross-legged, on the safe side of the doorway. Even though he was a stranger, and probably up to no good, he was at least someone to talk to. While the lone wolf image wasn’t one that fitted most wolves, it did apply to both Rhoan and me. We’d grown up in an environment that was hostile to our presence—to our very existence—and had become used to keeping to ourselves. Which meant, of course, that the art of making friends easily wasn’t a skill either of us had. God, it had
taken me forever to drop my guard and let Kelly in a little. We’d known each other for three years, and despite the fact that I called her a friend—a good friend—she still had no idea that Rhoan and I were related, let alone twins.

And while I had two mates I saw regularly, they weren’t exactly friends. Melbourne could be a cold city when you were basically alone.

His gaze slid down my barely covered bits—a touch that wasn’t a touch, but left me burning. No surprise there. The moon heat, which was what we wolves called the weeklong phase in which the need to mate became almost all-consuming, had started. And while it didn’t affect me anywhere near as strongly as full-blooded wolves, the burning need for sex was still hard to deny.

And if the moon-spun hunger was that strong already, I was in for a rough but exciting week.

“So,” I said, trying to shake off images of mating with this vamp right there in the hall—and trying not to think of the delicious possibility of shocking Mrs. Russel’s puritan sensibilities. “You obviously didn’t come to your senses during the night.”

“Well, that depends on how you define ‘coming to your senses.’” Warmth sparkled in his dark eyes. “If you’re referring to the fact that I’m still here, then obviously not. If you mean did I regain some memories, then yes.”

“So you remember why you’re here?”

“I told you that last night.”

That he had. I was just curious as to whether he’d changed his story.

“And as I said, if it’s something urgent, just go to the Directorate. Any of the guardians will be able to help you.”

“It’s your flatmate I must see.”

I speared some bacon, and dipped it into the yolk. “You another of his boyfriends?”

He jerked back so quickly anyone would have thought I’d hit him. “No, I am not.”

I grinned. “No offense meant. It’s just that many vampires who are older than a century or two tend to swing between the sexes.”

He studied me, face expressionless, eyes deep, dark pools the unwary could easily get lost in. “You are a werewolf, are you not?”

“Yeah.” I tore off a chunk of muffin, covered it in egg, and ate it. Ladylike, that was me.

“Werewolves are no more intuitive when it comes to vampires than humans,” he said softly. “So how is it you knew I was a vampire, let alone one who was more than two centuries old?”

I shrugged. “My flatmate is a guardian, and I work with guardians. You pick up on those things.”

One look at his expression suggested he wasn’t buying the lie.

“Can I ask another question?”

“You can ask. Won’t guarantee I’ll answer it.”

His smile crinkled his eyes. Not only was he polite, but he had a sense of humor. Amazing.

“You are not the . . . shall we say, typical? . . . shape of a werewolf.”

“Meaning I’ve actually got curves and boobs?” Boobs that had been my saving grace when it came to job-getting in the past. Despite the fact it was illegal to discriminate, few people wanted werewolves in their employ simply because the moon cycle meant wolves were away one week in four. But, thanks to said boobs, few people ever guessed what I was.

His gaze drifted upward. “Your hair is red, yet I thought there were only four packs—silver, black, golden, and brown.”

I nodded. “Most people think that, simply because the number of red packs is extremely small and they’re all somewhat isolated. They originated in Ireland, then migrated to the center of Australia. They mostly still live there today.”

“Ireland and Central Australia are two vastly different locations.”

Having visited Ireland eight years ago, I could certainly attest to that. I’d never seen so much rain in my life—at least until I’d gotten to Melbourne.

“They were chased out during the race riots of 1795. England was using Australia as a penal colony at the time, but there was plenty of land to be had so that’s where they went.” I shrugged. “I guess after the chill of Ireland, the heat of Central Australia was a dream.”

“At that time, they could have had their pick of locations. Why go to a desert?”

“Who knows?” Not me, that was for sure. Pack history had never been my strong point. But then, they hadn’t exactly gone overboard to teach us—after all, why would they bother when they had every intention of kicking us out once we hit adulthood?

Some wolf packs were tolerant of half-breeds. Ours wasn’t. The main reason we’d been allowed to survive at all was the fact that our mother was the daughter of the pack’s alpha—and had threatened to walk away from the pack if we were sentenced to death.

And yet when we had finally left, it had been as much of a relief for her as it had been for us. She loved us, we both knew that, but she’d made it very clear that she never wanted to see us again. That decision had hurt—still hurt—and yet I could understand her need to regain a normal pack life. It couldn’t have been easy raising
pups who were unwanted by everyone but her.

“And the red pack are not lean, as other wolves are?” my grubby vampire asked.

“Mostly, no.”

He nodded, his gaze rolling languidly down my body, somehow making me feel like I was drowning in sunshine. Which was a weird sensation to be getting from a creature of the night.

Though, to be honest, vamps generally weren’t the ice blocks humans thought them to be. They only got cold if they weren’t feeding enough.

I cleared my throat. “I wouldn’t do that.”

Amusement danced in his dark eyes. “Why not?”

“You know why not.”

The amusement touched his lips, and my breath caught somewhere in my throat. Damn, when had dead men become so delicious?

“I wouldn’t mind.”

Well, actually, neither would I, but I had principles. At least until the moon fever truly hit. “You’re here to see my flatmate, not me.” I hesitated, and frowned. “You said last night someone was trying to kill you. If that’s the case, why are you calmly sitting here in my hall?”

“Because they left me for dead. I doubt whether they’d bother going back to see if they succeeded.”

“And you are naked and covered in mud because . . . ?”

“I was staked naked to the ground between a mound of mulch and a mound of topsoil.”

I stared at him, not sure if he was being serious or not. “You were staked out in a garden center?”

“Apparently so. Luckily for me, they decided not to put a stake through my heart, but were simply content to watch the rising sun burn me.”

“Which it obviously didn’t.”

He smiled again, but this time there was something ferocious about it. “The good thing about being over a few hundred years old is a certain amount of immunity to the sun. Something my attackers obviously didn’t know. When dawn rose, I began screaming. They panicked and ran.”

Suggesting, perhaps, that the men who’d attacked him were new to the vampire-hunting game. I leaned against the door frame and placed my half-empty plate on the dusty wooden floor. “Why didn’t you just take over their minds and run them off that way?”

“I tried. They were blocked.” He eyed me for a minute. “Much the same as you are.”

I frowned. Rhoan had told me there was a gang of humans cruising the city in search of vamps to hunt down, but I was under the impression they were only teenagers. It was doubtful they’d be strong enough to overwhelm this vampire, let alone have developed tough enough mind-shields to keep him out. And while electronic shield technology did exist and did work, it was so expensive very few could afford it.

“Were they young?”

“No. Men, all of them, at least thirty.”

That didn’t sound good. “Perhaps you’d better go over to the Directorate. If there’s a second gang active in the city, they’ll need to know.”

“I cannot.”

“Why? My flatmate might not be back for days, and this really should be reported.”

“Rhoan asked me to see him, and only him.”

I raised an eyebrow. “I thought you didn’t know my flatmate? And if you did, why didn’t you ask for him by name last night?”

“Because last night I couldn’t actually remember his name, just his address. And I never did say whether I knew him or not.”

Typical vampire. I’m sure the half that weren’t salesmen were damn lawyers sometime in their lives. “Does that mean you’ve seen him recently?”

“Yes. Before those men caught and staked me out. That is how I knew this address.”

Then maybe this vamp could help me find Rhoan if Jack and the Directorate wouldn’t. “When was this?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure.”

Damn. “So where did you see him?”

“I can’t say.”

“Then why did those men feel inclined to stake you out?”

“Something else I can’t remember.”

“There seems to be an awful lot you can’t remember,” I muttered, stuck between belief and disbelief.

“A regrettable side effect of being kicked several times in the head.”

My gaze traveled to his forehead. There did seem to be shadowing under the mud, which might have meant bruising. “Have you got a name?”

“I have.”

A smile twitched my lips. “Can you share it, or is it lost to the fog as well?”

“Quinn O’Conor.”

“I’m Riley Jenson.”

He leaned forward and held out his hand. I clasped it automatically, which was a stupid thing to do, really. He could have so easily hauled me out of the doorway had he intended me harm.

But the only thing he did was wrap his long, strong fingers around mine and squeeze lightly. And with the heat of his palm burning into mine, it was all too easy to imagine the gentle strength of those fingers sliding across my body, stirring the desire already building deep inside. I swallowed heavily.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Riley Jenson,” he added, his voice so soft it seemed to echo inside my head rather than through my ears.

I pulled my hand from his, but clenched my fingers to retain the warmth of his touch. That one reaction made me realize I had better be careful. Until I knew more about him, about what he was really up to, I’d better keep some distance. No matter how much my hormones were suggesting otherwise.

Yet curiosity was still stronger than caution.

“And can you remember what you do for a living?”

He nodded. “I own Evensong Air.”

I almost choked. Evensong was the biggest of the three transpacific airlines, and had recently taken over the shuttle service to the space stations. Which made the naked vampire sitting opposite me a multibillionaire.

His face closed over. “Does that alter your opinion of me?”

“Like I’ve had time to form an opinion?” I grinned, and added, “But if it did, it would only be because I’ve never fucked a mega, megarich guy before.” Though I had certainly fucked your ordinary, everyday, garden-variety millionaire. Still was, in fact.

His laugh sent warm shivers down my spine. “One thing I love about werewolves—they’re always forthright when it comes to sex.”

“Had a werewolf or two in your time, have you?” Which wouldn’t be entirely surprising. He was rich, he was gorgeous, and he was a vampire. They were one of the few races that could actually keep up with a werewolf in moon heat.

“One or two.”

He didn’t look as if he wanted to elaborate, and I wondered why. I watched him sip his meal for a second, then said, “I thought Evensong was owned by a Frank Harris?”

“He’s the director and current face.” Quinn shrugged. “Being a vampire has its restrictions. I will always need someone to run the business during the day.”

I was betting Frank Harris was kept on a very tight leash, all the same. “So what is a successful businessman doing getting staked out by humans? I would have thought you’d be surrounded by the latest in security gadgets.”

He frowned. “I wish I knew. It’s most annoying, waking to find oneself staked out and having no idea why.”

“I’m guessing it’s even more annoying to discover you’d been overwhelmed by mere humans.”

“Most definitely.”

Amusement flirted with his mouth again, and my heart did the old flip-flop. Time to retreat, before I did something daft—like take this vampire’s bait.

“Listen, I have to get ready for work. Would you like a coat or something? The weathermen reckon it’s going to rain later.”

A sensual smile flirted with his lips. “I appreciate the offer, but vampires do not feel the cold.”

“Maybe not, but you’re making me cold just looking at you.” Which was actually the opposite of what was happening, but he didn’t need to know that.

He shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, then I shall accept the coat.”

I rose and grabbed one of Rhoan’s coats from the back of the door. At least Mrs. Russel’s heart wouldn’t go into overload if she did happen to see him. And as much as I liked pushing the old cow, I doubted whether we’d get another apartment this large or this cheap so close to the city.

After closing the door, I dug through the baskets of clean clothes until I found a suitable skirt and shirt to wear. Once I’d ironed them, I got ready for work. Quinn was still sitting in the hall when I left to walk down to the station.

The train was packed, and, as usual, I spent the entire journey with my nose pinned against the glass, trying to get some fresh air from the cracks between the panels to combat the almost overwhelming scents of humanity, sweat, and perfume.

I squeezed out at Spencer Street Station and walked the block to the green glass building that housed the Directorate. After going through the security scanners, then submitting my hand for print scanning, I took the lift down to the basement levels, stopping at sublevel three. If the ten levels above ground were the public face of the Directorate—the areas that worked mainly by day, receiving the initial reports of
crimes by nonhumans, processing the minor offenses, and doing other basic stuff like documenting reports of new vampire risings—then the five below were the heart. They were the area the public knew little about. There we tracked down, and took care of, the nastier stuff—the nonhumans who raped and killed and sucked dry. And we worked twenty-four hours a day, even if the majority of the guardians only
hunted at night.

There were only one hundred of us down there, and seventy of those were guardians. The other thirty were officially known as guardian liaisons. We worked mostly on rotating eight-hour shifts, and our duties were basic but far from simple—nothing could ever be considered simple when dealing with vampires. We checked and processed information about the more serious crimes, gave the guardians their
assignments once the sun had set, made their reports legible once the night was over, and kept the guardians who were in residence during the daylight hours supplied with food and drink.

Of course, most humans still thought vampires were forced to sleep during the sunlit hours, but that was a fallacy—and one most vampires were more than happy to perpetuate. Sure, most vamps couldn’t go out into direct sunlight for fear of being fried, but that didn’t mean they were comatose, either. Vamps didn’t need to sleep any more than they needed to breathe. If vampires did sleep, then it was done either as a leftover habit from their human years, or out of boredom.

I was one of only three females doing the job, and the other two were vamps. Guardians weren’t the easiest of folk to deal with, and only those capable of protecting themselves were assigned duty there. Jack looked up from his computer screen as I walked into the room and gave me another of his toothy grins. “Morning, darlin’.”

“Morning, Jack.” I stripped off my jacket, plopped down on my seat, and looked into the security scanner. My iris was checked, identity confirmed, and the screen snapped into action. “You been here all night again?”

“What else would an ugly sod like me do?”

I grinned. “I don’t know—get a life, maybe?”

“I have a life. It’s called the Directorate.”

“That’s sad. You know that, don’t you?”

“I prefer to call it committed.”

“As in, should be committed.”

He smiled. “Got your report. Nice job.”

“Thanks. Any word from Rhoan yet?”

“Not yet.” He glanced at his watch. “But it isn’t nine, and your flatmate is never on time anyway.”

I knew that well enough, and normally it didn’t worry me. “Are you going to start a search if he doesn’t report in?”

“Not immediately, no.”

“Dammit, there’s something wrong.”

“We only have your gut instinct telling us that. And even then, you say it isn’t serious. Forgive me, Riley, but if it isn’t serious, it isn’t enough to blow his mission.”

Frustration surged through me. I blew out a breath, lifting the hair from my forehead. “Then I’ll just have to do a little looking of my own.”

Jack studied me for a minute, amusement touching the corners of his green eyes. “If you find something, you will let me know.”

I raised an eyebrow. “That an order?”

“Yes.”

“And will you share if you find anything?”

“Riley, Rhoan’s a guardian, and the mission he’s on is top secret. I can’t share information.” He paused. “Unless, of course, I was sharing it with someone who was willing to take a second guardian test.”

“That’s blackmail.”

“Yes.”

I shook my head. “And here I was thinking you were a nice vampire.”

“There is no such thing as a nice vampire,” he said. “Just different shades of the same color. You’d be wise to remember that, especially here.”

Wasn’t that the truth. “I’m not going to take another test.” I wasn’t that concerned for Rhoan’s safety. Not yet.

I tackled the pile of files in my inbox instead. The morning crawled by, and the sensation that Rhoan was in trouble neither waxed nor waned. Which was odd. If he was in trouble, and unable to get out of it, surely the danger should build? What the hell did it mean when it remained at the same level?

At lunch, I grabbed a sandwich and cola from the machine in the foyer, then headed back to do some info searching on the mysterious, but oh-so-delicious, Quinn.

There were lots and lots of yummy pictures—whoever started the myth that vampires couldn’t be photographed was either a loony or had never actually tried it. And there were lots of articles, which swung between calling him a monster and hailing him as a savior of small companies. One article was all about a dead vamp found on one of Quinn’s transport planes. Another mentioned expansions in his
Sydney pharmaceutical company. And there was a small clipping about his engagement to one Eryn Jones—and a snapshot of the two of them together. She was a slender, brown-haired woman, and as pretty as hell. But then, I don’t suppose someone like Quinn would end up with anyone dowdy. I glanced at the date on the top of the article—January 9. Six months ago.

He had to love her a lot, because vampires didn’t often commit themselves to one person. Kelly had once told me it was simply too hard to watch someone you love wither and die while you stayed eternally young. A vampire’s only other choice was to turn their lovers into vamps, yet few relationships survived the turmoil of turning. Vampires tended to be territorial and two vamps couldn’t often live in harmony.

A few articles later, I found an interesting one about Eryn herself—or rather, her mysterious disappearance. Quinn had apparently been questioned by police, but released, and the inquiries were “ongoing.” Meaning the cops didn’t have a goddamn clue.

Was this the reason behind the attack on Quinn? Did someone, somewhere, suspect that he was behind her disappearance? If so, why was he waiting at my place to see Rhoan? Was it something to do with the missing Eryn or something else entirely?

How did he even know Rhoan if he normally lived in Sydney?

Frowning, I did a search on his fiancée, but didn’t come up with much more than the fact she worked for a well-known pharmaceutical company—one Quinn had apparently bought, then dismantled, several months after her disappearance.

Interesting, to say the least. Though God only knew how it connected to Rhoan’s current troubles.

Jack came back in from his lunch break, and I got back to work. The afternoon crawled by, and though I kept glancing at the clock, no word came from Rhoan. Jack pretended to be totally oblivious to anything but whatever it was he was doing on his computer, yet I knew he was watching me. Knew he was waiting for me to say something. To ask about Rhoan and the possibility of a search and, of course, that
pesky retesting.

Which I wasn’t going to do until I’d exhausted my own avenues—and I intended to check them out as soon as I went home and changed. Unless, of course, the feeling of trouble sharpened dramatically.

At six, I signed off and got the hell out of there. Given it was Saturday, and late evening to boot, most of the usual pedestrian traffic had already gone home. There was even breathing room on the train.

Night was setting in by the time the train pulled into my station. I climbed out and walked up the platform to the exit. But the sensation that I was no longer alone crawled over my skin. I looked over my shoulder.

As usual, half the lights were out. Shadows lurked along the fence line and crept skeletal fingers across the platform itself. No one had gotten off the train but me, and no one or nothing hid in the shadows. Not that I could sense or see, anyway. I glanced across to the platform on the other side of the tracks. No one there, either.

So why did my skin prickle with awareness? An awareness I knew meant there was a vamp nearby, hiding in the shadows somewhere.

Why couldn’t I pinpoint his location?

And why did the night feel suddenly hostile?

Frowning, I slung my bag over my shoulder and continued on up the platform. But as I neared the steps that led up to Sunshine Avenue, the sharp scent of musk, mint, and man teased my nostrils.

Not the vampire, but a wolf. The male of our species tended to have a slightly sharper basic aroma than males of other species. Or maybe it just seemed that way because we females were naturally more attuned to them.

I stopped abruptly. He stood to the left of the steps, hiding between the station’s wall and the ramp for disabled folk. He was absolutely still, something that is extremely rare for us wolves. Unless asleep, we tend to fidget if we stay in one spot for too long. The energy of the beast, barely contained, was Rhoan’s theory.

“I know you’re there,” I said softly. “What the hell do you want?”

The shadows parted, and the wolf stepped out into the light. He was rangy, mean-looking, and so much like Henri Gautier it could have been his brother. Only, as far as I knew, Gautier didn’t have a brother.

“Riley Jenson?” His voice was guttural, thick, and so cold a shiver traveled down my spine.

“Who wants to know?”

“Got a message for you.”

My heart leapt. While I didn’t think scum like him would be a friend of my brother’s, I wouldn’t put it past Rhoan to use his like for a messenger.

“What?”

“Die, freak.”

His hand blurred, and I saw the gun.

I moved, as fast as I could.

Heard the booming report.

Then there was pain.

Nothing but pain.

Excerpted from FULL MOON RISING by Keri Arthur Copyright © 2006 by Keri Arthur. Excerpted by permission of Bantam, a division of Random House, Inc. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.