Bound by Moonlight by Nancy Gideon Read Free Book Online

abilities with him: a physical ability to heal herself that had saved her life. A mental communication of feelings and thoughts that had saved his. She wanted to explore it more, but he’d pulled back behind the shielding his mother had taught him. Afraid of what she might discover, afraid of what she’d awaken, he prevented her from reaching out to him, from touching his mind and his experiences.
    He was afraid it would make her a target.
    She murmured in her sleep, rolling onto her side. Her luscious rump pushed against him, wiggling to get comfortable until he placed a hand on her hip to still the provocative movements.
    Even in her sleep, she drove him wild.
    How selfish to thrust her into danger just to soothe his aching heart, to calm his raging needs.
    Would she now be hunted just as he was, the human mate of the Shifter king?
    He eased out of bed to dress in the misty half light. He’d pulled on jeans and was taking a sweatshirt out of his drawer when unexpected movement at the edge of the dresser caught the corner of his eye. A rattle of sound made him hop back in alarm, stifling a startled yelp as he sought the potential danger.
    On the floorboards, coiled where they had fallen, was the string of pearls he’d given Charlotte.
    He started to reach down for them, but his toes curled under, his muscles pulled taut. A low, instinctive growl rippled out of him as he sensed threat where there seemed to be none. He snuffled the air just in case.
    His breathing grew tight as panic strangled him. Hot dampness welled up from a dark place deep inside him, flooding his eyes, skewing his vision, changing the beads into the shadow of something else.
    A small sound escaped him, breaking his trance.
    Jumpy, anxious, he took a few quick steps back and gave the area a wide berth on his way to the door. Out in the hall he swallowed the acidic taste of fear and put on his sweatshirt, grateful for the fleecy warmth against his goose-bumped skin.
    Then, he hurried downstairs and outside, running from what he didn’t want to recall, from secrets his mind had buried but which wouldn’t rest quietly.
    His housekeeper Helen found him on the side porch, tense and inwardly trembling in one of the wicker chairs. Helen had served Jimmy, and now him, with an efficiency that bordered on telepathic.
    “Beautiful morning. It’s going to be a warm one,” she said quietly, never sure if he’d respond.
    “Do you remember where Jimmy and your Sam said they found me?” Max asked abruptly.
    Helen’s composed features betrayed none of her surprise. Max never spoke of the past. Until his policewoman, he’d barely spoken at all. She continued putting place mats and glasses out for two, pouring his juice before she answered.
    “I believe it was over near Rayne.”
    “Tell me.”
    “What do you want to know?”
    “Everything.”
    His tone was adamant, but something in his eyes made her hesitate. She began matter-of-factly, while inside her heart went soft with sympathy. “You were just a little thing, four, maybe five years old. You’d been out there for days, just you and your poor mama.”
    “Did you . . . did you see my mama?”
    “Yes.” How could she ever forget? They’d brought her out of the swamps in the trunk of Jimmy’s big town car. He’d never been able to get the smell out of it— that hot, ripe, putrid stink of decay. The same stench that clung to the little boy even after they’d scrubbed his skin raw.
    “Did you see what happened to her?”
    “She’d been shot. I don’t think she suffered, Max.” Not like he did, both then and now.
    His gaze flickered away. He swallowed hard. “I don’t remember much. Jimmy wouldn’t talk about it. But I have dreams sometimes.”
    Yes. His screams and eerie howling cries had kept the household up nights for almost a year after Jimmy brought him home. She hadn’t known he still hadthem. “Just dreams,” she told him with a comforting certainty.
    “You think so?” His gaze