Claire de Lune (Claire de Lune #1)

“I’ll be right back,” she mumbled to Lisbeth. Claire followed her mother into the hall. “What’s up?”


Her mother frowned. “I’m going out. I think I have an idea wh”—she stopped, her eyes trained on the kitchen where Lisbeth was banging the cabinet doors closed a little too obviously—“in regards to our earlier conversation.”

Claire’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t let her mother go traipsing around the woods with Matthew’s dad and his whackos out setting traps, especially not if she was in her wolf-form. And she probably would be, since it was the best way to hide her identity.

“Mom, I need to talk to you first, okay? Let’s, umm, can we go talk in my room or something?”

Marie shook her head. “I don’t have time, chérie. We’ll talk when I return. I may be out a bit later than usual. And no matter what happens, you are not to leave this house until I tell you that you may.”

The closed-off look that Claire knew all too well slid across her mother’s eyes. Before she could say anything, her mother turned and strode down the hall with unnatural speed. Werewolf speed.

“Mom!”

Marie turned, her face a mask of irritation. “Not now, Claire!” Her voice was a growl, the command in it clear. “Later” wasn’t a request—it was an order from a higher-ranked pack member.

“Just—be careful,” Claire sputtered, her gaze darting to the kitchen door. “There’s … dangerous stuff out there.” As warnings went, it was pretty crappy, but between her mother’s insistence and Lisbeth hovering in the kitchen, it was the best Claire could manage. If her mother really was planning to transform and search the woods, then she was taking a huge risk.

Lisbeth left a few minutes later, looking distracted and irritated.

Claire sat in the empty house and waited for Matthew, wondering if it were possible for time to pass any slower.

“Hey.”

Matthew’s smile hit her like a blast of tropical air. So did the actual air—the heat wave showed no signs of letting up any time soon.

“Wow, it’s awful out there.” Claire waved him into the house. “Ready to hit the pool?”

Matthew waved the rolled-up towel in his hand. “Absolutely.”

“Great. I just need to change into my suit.” Claire left Matthew in the kitchen and threw on her bathing suit as fast as she could.

Ten minutes later, they were floating in the pool chairs with the sun beating down on them. Claire kept glancing at the kitchen windows, half-hoping to see her mother staring back at her—even if it meant getting caught with Matthew. She was worried enough not to care .

“This is heaven,” Matthew announced.

Claire looked at the drops of water sparkling on his chest. I’ll say.

“You okay?” Matthew asked. “You seem sort of distracted.”

“Sorry, I guess I am, a little. My mom and I had some … weirdness this morning, and I can’t shake it.” That was putting it mildly. But she couldn’t exactly tell him that she was worrying about what might happen if her mother ran into his dad in the woods. Maybe she’s not even there. She didn’t say exactly where she was going. …

Claire sighed and bit her lip.

Matthew slid off his pool chair into the water and swam over to her. “Sounds like it’s been a bad parent day all around.” He took her hands and gently pulled her off her floating chair. “Is there anything I can do?”

Claire leaned into his chest. “Distract me?” she suggested.

He smiled. “That could be arranged.” He leaned in and kissed her, tightening his arms around her. Claire felt the two parts of herself rise up and begin to battle. The human in her relished the touch of his soft mouth, welcomed the pressure of his hands against her shoulders. The rest of Claire—the werewolf—wanted to go off by herself, to think about what she could do for her mother. She didn’t know which side to listen to—didn’t know which voice was the angel on her shoulder, and which was the devil.

I tried to warn her … There’s nothing I can do about it right now, anyway.

In spite of her anxiety, Claire gave into the familiarity of being human, and wrapped her arms around Matthew’s warm back.

Long before the sun threatened to sink, Matthew suggested that they’d pushed their luck far enough for one day. After his car had disappeared down the drive, Claire slipped out onto the front steps and sat down. She wrapped her arms around her legs and stared out at the trees in the distance, shivering in spite of the heat. Please let her be okay. Please.

Darkness fell, and Claire’s mother still hadn’t come home. She couldn’t stand the waiting anymore. Something had gone wrong. Claire could feel it. She had to talk to Beatrice.

The phone felt hot in her sweaty hand. After a quick Internet search to find the number, she dialed, and then stared at the digits glowing on the tiny screen. All she had to do was hit SEND . Claire closed her eyes and pressed the button.

It rang only once before Victoria answered. “Hello?”

“Victoria? It’s Claire. Listen, I really need to talk to Beatrice.”