Blood Moon Magic Read online

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Content Warning

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  About the Author

  Blood Moon Magic by Isobelle Carmichael

  Copyright @ 2019 by Isobelle Carmichael All Rights Reserved.

  All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover Illustration Copyright © 2019 by Nichole Witholder-Rainy Day Artwork

  Developmental Editing by Christina Diaz -Adytum Library

  Line Editing by Robin Lee- Rainy Day Editing

  Proofreading -Denise Krekling with Serious Moonlight Editing

  Book Formatting by Gina Formats Words

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Where to start? There are a million people I could and should thank. And I’m sure I’ll forget someone, so I’m sorry in advance.

  To the Facebook writers’ groups that got me started and were a lifeline during those fledging stages.

  To Ava Mason, for being so encouraging. It’s how I got started, and your encouraging words really helped to keep me going. You’re brilliant!

  To Christina, for taking a rough draft and helping me flesh it out. What a change from an idea to a story.

  To Robin, for being there for me and making my book really shine. You worked hard, girl, and I thank you a million times over. You are amazing and being able to text you and chat with you when I need to is fantastic!

  To Denise, for coming in at the end and adding that last bit of sparkle! You are so inspiring and motivating and I cannot wait to work with you more.

  My Beta readers. You all are truly awesome. Thank you for reading my rough words and telling me how to make them better. Shout out to Brina girl! You know what you do.

  To Nichole, who gave me the most stunning cover ever. You are so much for than my illustrator. I am so happy to call you a friend!! Our chats are so fun, and I love having you in my life.

  A giant thank you to my family and partner who put up with all my late night and early morning writing; you are amazing!! I love you so much.

  And lastly, but most importantly, to the Four pages. Where would I be without you? A.C. Wilds, Aspen Marks, and C.M. Wright. You guys make each day better, literally. You are a lifeline of support. Knowing that I can count on you for anything keeps me going. I would be lost without you all to chat with every day! I can’t wait to see what happens next for us but look y’all, I wrote a book!!

  Content Warning

  This book is written for those 18+. The following text depicts graphic descriptions of or extensive discussions about abuse, including sexual abuse or torture. The book contains polyandry situations, meaning one woman having sex with multiple male partners. There are also MM situations depicted within.

  Prologue

  Megan

  Three months earlier

  “Alpha Megan, follow me; the High Priestess will see you now,” an acolyte calls out to me, interrupting my pacing.

  A black hooded robe hides his features, but I know what he is. I walk to him, my steps echoing along the white antechamber, and wait until he opens the massive solid white doors. They’re made from an ancient white tree, blessed by the goddess herself. The amount of strength it takes to open the doors is another clue about the being lurking inside the robes. With a deep breath, I plunge into the Temple of Elders.

  Elegant and beautiful are the only ways to describe the Temple; it’s a shame only alphas and acolytes get to see it. The columns of white marble swirl with visible magic. Each massive pillar is threaded with veins of green, purple, and blue that undulate with power. They emit an audible hum, and as I pass through the archway, my own magic is forced to the surface, causing me to grit my teeth.

  There are thirteen thrones in a semicircle before me. Each carved from a single piece of jet black marble and standing on a dais, with one standing prominently above the rest. It is flanked on each side by six others in the same rich black marble of the High Priestess’s throne, but these are inlaid with red. In these sit the Elders, the reason my people exist, and the reason we are now dying.

  On the highest throne sits Maeve, the High Priestess, and our mother incarnate. She’s the strongest and oldest witch among them; she’s also an evil, manipulative bitch. Her eyes blaze with a vibrant purple, matching the sheen of her raven hair.

  When other packs were struggling to conceive, she gave me a child. For that reason alone, I give her a smidgen of respect, even though I know her reasons were not altruistic. The steep price her gift requires is one I once thought I could pay, but now as I stand before her, my confidence wavers. I need to find a way to save my child; I cannot cut Abigail’s life short. Desperation makes you do stupid things. I walk to the dais and kneel. It’s a difficult task for an alpha, which is why I’m certain they require it.

  “Your daughter turned twenty-five this summer and is now ready for the power transfer,” her voice cuts through the silence, sweet and unassuming, but brimming with strength.

  “You promised her to us, and we have not forgotten. The great power from this joining of witch and wolf will sustain us all for generations to come. She bears the blood-red crescent mark of the fated alpha, and her blood runs thick with ancient magic,” the priestess speaks with authority.

  “The red crescent has not been found on a fated alpha in over a millennium,” the man next to her says, “why have you not performed a ceremony to imbue us with her power?”

  “I know what I promised,” I begin, refusing to acknowledge him and focusing on the priestess instead, “I will give you my daughter’s power as I said I would, but you will abide by our promise, you will only take what is offered. You will not take her life.”

  “You promised her to us, and you know there’s no guarantee that the transfer will not harm her,” she says dismissively. I know she doesn’t care if Abby lives, but I do. “You knew what you were agreeing to,” she adds.

  “I understand, and I know I gave my word.” She may be the High Priestess, but I am still an alpha, a force in my own right. “B
ut we all know there is another way. You only demanded her powers for yourself, never her life. Now, I have found a pack willing to meet for a Claiming ceremony.” Maeve sits up straighter in her chair, and I smile.

  I have her now.

  “When she Claims a mate or mates, her powers will increase tenfold, if not more,” I offer enticingly. “If we wait for the Blood Moon ceremony, it will make her stronger and more likely to survive the transfer, while also gifting you more potent energy than what she currently has,” I finish and watch her closely. Her violet eyes are flashing with hunger. Her greed for power could be her downfall, but if it will save my daughter’s life, it doesn’t matter.

  “I’ll agree to this, but the ceremony must be soon. And don’t forget, someone is always watching. I will know if you’re stepping out of line, so don’t test me.”

  I seethe at her words. Maeve and I have a working relationship only. She works my last nerve.

  “I don’t trust you not to hide your daughter or steal what you owe us for yourself,” she spits out, pursing lips painted a vibrant purple, the same color as her eyes, then clicks her tongue.

  “David,” she snaps, and my eyes jump to the man I’ve been ignoring. “Who should we send to watch her?”

  I swallow the acid that’s beginning to bubble in my chest; rage will not help me now. “That’s not necessary, Priestess. I’ll abide by your wishes, of course.”

  The woman has no reason not to trust my motivations, but she doesn’t understand a mother’s love. She should. She’s a descendant of the goddess, the mother of our race, after all. But her heart is blackened and cold. Warmth and love are a faded memory to the woman I kneel before.

  “You know, you shifters brought this upon yourselves with your refusal to crossbreed. You separated shifters from supernaturals, weakening the magic in your blood. Why that wasn’t enough, who knows? But then you divided yourselves; wolves, cats, bears, and dragons all formed separate groups, decimating your birth rates with your own intolerance.”

  I drown out her diatribe, my mind wandering as I process her words. I have never considered if it was really our fault. I was too young to remember the way things used to be, but I remember the family journals. Once, many years ago, there was no separation among the races. They lived together in packs based on the Claiming. Then the hybrids began, and instead of a couple in a litter, they were becoming more common. Dragon-wolves, tiger-lions, bear-panthers—the mixes were plentiful, a little odd, but exceedingly powerful. So much so, that it became a danger. That’s what the ancestors said. Hybrids were a danger.

  “If we hadn’t requested your hybrids, you’d have killed them too!” Her screams bring me back to the throne room, and my very enraged priestess. I don’t understand where this rant has come from, but I dare not speak; when Maeve is enraged, it can be deadly.

  “Your ancestor’s hand and their prejudices are destroying your people, and as your Elders, we can only do so much to fix it. We should never have given you free will.”

  I jerk back at her words. What does she mean, giving us free will?

  But she says nothing else, trailing off, her eyes widening as she looks at me. I see a slight flicker from purple to black that throws me off.

  It’s not just fear that keeps me quiet, but self-preservation. Now is not the time to fight— now is the time to play meek. When you’re a female alpha, you become a master at knowing when to show your hand, and when to keep your cards close to the vest. This is one of those times.

  “Why are you still here?” she asks as if she just realized I am still kneeling before the dais waiting to be dismissed. It’s another one of her slips. I file the information away for later and quickly make my exit.

  I want to turn and stare at David, but I don’t dare.

  The Temple of Elders is beautiful, but being around the Thirteen is not on my list of favorite ways to spend the day. Neither for that matter, is informing my daughter she needs to mate with the Wyvern Clan. I can only imagine her face. My daughter is as beautiful as she is willful, and already the scent of a strong alpha pours off of her. She was blessed with her father’s dark brown hair and soulful brown eyes, but her sun-kissed brown skin and alpha power come from me. But neither her power, nor her beauty, is enough to take the helm of a pack, and she’s not ready to lead yet. I can only hope that when she meets her mates, they’ll help her find the alpha already inside of her. If they cannot, we’re all doomed. If my theories prove true, the Elders might not keep us around much longer. The growing rumors are that they want to replace us with protectors who listen more and fight back less. If I’m right, then I know in my bones that Abigail will be the key to our salvation, and we’re going to need to fight back harder than ever.

  Chapter One

  Abby

  Present Day

  I spend the better portion of the morning ignoring my mother; I know what’s coming, and I don’t feel like dealing with it. It’s not that I am one to shirk my responsibilities. But even future alphas deserve a day off.

  Weekend mornings are for mimosas and waffles—not serious conversations about mates and ensuring the survival of your pack. And that’s been my life as of late. Pack meetings and preparations for the Claiming ceremony seem to consume my days. I am loyal to my pack, and I know my duty, but it can be wearisome. My luck at evading her runs out when I attempt to slip into our cavernous gourmet kitchen to make one of those aforementioned mimosas. I try to retreat to my room on the other side of our den. I’d like to be as far away as possible from my seriously over-caffeinated mother, but she finds me anyway.

  Shit, I’m cornered.

  “There you are, Abby,” I hear from behind me, just as I’m pulling the orange juice out of the massive fridge. When you’re feeding an entire pack, you get the biggest of everything. There are a lot of mouths to feed, and shifters eat twice the amount of an average human.

  “Hey, Mom. Look, you found me.” I set the juice on the counter and laugh nervously.

  With a knowing look she stares at me, and I brace, but nothing can prepare me for the weight of her power striking. The intensity has lessened some, as I’ve grown into my own, but when I experience her power, it wraps around me, and I have no choice but to comply.

  “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but you have to stop now,” her voice is stern, and she grabs me and turns me to her. “There’s no point in lying; we both know the truth.”

  I don’t want to talk to her about this, but now I have no choice. I say nothing, deciding to gulp down half my glass of juice and pour a refill of just champagne instead.

  “Abby, you know you’ll have to Claim one of them to give us a chance. Just one, sweetheart, and we’ll have a shot,” she says, putting her hand over mine and giving it a gentle squeeze before her other fingers begin digging into my shoulder. I have never participated in a Claiming myself, only watched them as an attendee, but some of my packmates have, and they didn’t have luck finding mates. I hang my head as my mind flashes back to a few months ago when my mother first broke the news that she finally had found a pack to accept our Claiming ceremony request.

  “Abby, baby girl, we finally have a pack for a ceremony.”

  “We do, Mom? That’s amazing! Who?” I ask, my excitement only slightly feigned.

  “I wanted to wait until it was finalized, but Alpha Seamus has agreed. In three months, we’re going to have a Claiming ceremony with Clan Wyvern,” she beams at me.

  I stare at her like she’s grown an extra limb.

  “Are you serious? The Wyvern Clan? The fucking dragons? Mom, you want me to mate with a fucking dragon?” I practically shout, then cringe. She’s my mom, but also our pack’s alpha, and I shouldn’t forget my place.

  “Well, I’d prefer dragons, plural, but I’ll settle for just one,” she says, ignoring my outburst.

  “Mom,” I reply in a much calmer tone, “Have you lost your mind? We’ll be shunned! I can’t take a dragon mate. We’re already dealing with biases as it is
!”

  In a tone that drips with condescension, she gets right to the crux of the matter, “Clan Wyvern is the most powerful dragon clan on the West Coast, and they’re almost entirely male. Did you forget how the last Claiming ceremony turned out? No matches! They’ve been total failures.”

  “But they’re dragons! Are you sure we’ve exhausted all the wolf packs? It’s not that I have anything against dragons, they’re perfectly....” I trail off and look at her, noticing her annoyed expression and crossed arms.

  “If we don’t find men to mate with, we’re going to die out. I know you remember all those calls I made to other packs. We’ve already tried to set up a Claiming with every other strong pack on the West Coast. And I will not grovel for anyone, Abigail! Least of all another misogynistic alpha male who thinks women are less than him!”

  She takes a deep breath, reigning in her own temper, “Besides, it’s been blessed by the High Priestess herself,” my mom says, playing her trump card.

  “Well, fuck.”

  The balloon that was my self-righteous indignation pops and sails away. You can’t deny the High Priestess; it’s a sacrilege and a literal death sentence.

  “Mom… the High Priestess?”