SHADOWS OF A WOLF MOON Book 5: RISE OF THE ARKANSAS WEREWOLVES by Jodi Vaughn Page A

Catty had cried and screamed to play with the little red-haired girl until her mother had finally relented and turned the car around. Even at young age, Catty had known how to get her way.
    That moment had led to Skylar coming over to her house about every day.
    Skylar had a totally different personality from hers. Skylar liked to color-coordinate her Barbies’ clothes, making sure everything matched, while Catty preferred them to look dramatic, mixing colors to make them stand out. Skylar would put away the toys when they were finished playing, while Catty didn’t want to waste time doing something so menial. She always had another game to play, another adventure to explore in the backyard, or another way to irritate Zane. She didn’t like to wait or she might miss out on something.
    At the time she didn’t realize Skylar was different in other ways too. While Catty was a gray wolf, Skylar was a red wolf. Red wolves were mortal enemies of the gray wolves.
    Race didn’t matter to her. Skylar was her friend no matter what.
    Although her friend had never spoken about her home life, she knew it wasn’t ideal. Not by any means.
    “I thought I said Jackson Square.” The deep masculine voice made her jump in her chair.
    “You said six thirty. It’s only six.” She pressed her hand against her chest as her heart thump-thump-thump ed against her palm.
    “No time like the present.” He grabbed her elbow and brought her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
    “Don’t touch me.” She didn’t keep her anger out of her voice. She snatched her arm out of his grip and gathered up what was left of her breakfast to toss it into a nearby trash can.
    He shadowed her every step, the heat of his body almost suffocating.
    She turned and glared. “Haven’t you ever heard of personal space?”
    “Making sure you don’t run.” His tone was hard and flat and unapologetic, making him an easy wolf to hate.
    “Where would I go?” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth and hit all too close to home. She curled her fingers into tight fists, her hands thrumming with each pulse of blood. “It’s not like I could outrun you.”
    “Let’s go.” He motioned with his hand toward the direction of Jackson Square.
    She hurried across the crosswalk before the light turned green. She didn’t need to glance over her shoulder to see whether he was following. She could feel him.
    At this early-morning hour, few people were hanging around. Artists hadn’t even started setting up their highly coveted places around the square.
    “Here is fine,” he growled.
    He stopped behind the shadows of the shrubbery and trees in an attempt to hide his large frame and crossed his arms over his massive chest.
    He was large, larger than the majority of the Weres she’d been around, with large broad shoulders that moved with the agility of a large lethal safari cat.
    He wore dark jeans, black biker boots, and a white T-shirt stretched within an inch of its life. She wasn’t sure if he was trying to show off his muscled body or if the department store didn’t make a shirt in his size. With his size, it was probably hard to find clothes that fit.
    He still had on the same damn black leather jacket she’d seen him in last night. A bead of sweat curled at his temple, and she knew he had to be sweltering. If not now, he would be once the sun was high in the sky. She wanted to tell him he didn’t need the coat for intimidation. He was intimidating without it.
    She met his gaze and shifted her weight, digging the toe of her tennis shoe in the dewy grass and staining the white canvas green.
    His dark blue eyes, almost a cerulean color, bore into hers. His face was handsome enough, but the glare he was giving her tempered her thoughts on his physical appearance.
    His raven-colored hair brushed the tops of his shoulders. A rogue breeze ruffled his locks, sending his male scent directly to her personal space.
    Her body tensed, and something stirred deep in her