The heat hitting Kelsie Connor in a wave was like a second-degree sunburn on midwestern-pale skin, but she refrained from touching her bare shoulder with the cool rim of her martini glass. Movement of any kind could prove suicidal beneath a moon like the one in tonightâs balmy June sky, if the legends were true.
The majority of Homo sapiens might not perceive anything abnormal about the blaringly bright full moon lending a reddish cast to the sidewalk, but humans werenât the only species calling Miami home. And not all humans were unobservant.
Certainly not herself.
Tonightâs moon had a special name. Blood Moon. A moniker for the second full moon in a single month. Not a Blue Moon, as some people called it. This particular one, appearing every five years, looked more like the sun viewed through a layer of smog. Nothing remotely white or silver or blue about it. Not so benign.
Rumor had it that this moon brought out other two-legged, night-loving species besides Miamiâs usual sleek human glitterati. Legends foretold these Others could smell movement, as if action was another word for bouquet. Not only that, it was said that Others had internal directional beacons spliced into their genes, and just flat out knew where to find fresh meat or fresh blood or whatever their particular dietary needs dictated.
âDisgusting â¦â
While poor human saps like herself had be lucky enough to utilize all of their senses, and then scramble to find two or three more in order to keep on the good side of the separation between life and death on any night in a city this size.
Kelsie took a second glace up at the strange, unearthly phenomenon overhead and rode out a ripple of internal heat at the thought of what that moon could do for her career if she was right about what might happen beneath it.
The thought actually turned her on a little.
Moisture gathered between her thighs.
This definitely wasnât the night to be strolling around, looking for a stray ocean breeze. Nor was it opportune for taking shortcuts on dark, underpopulated side streets. Five years ago, during the last Blood Moon phase, ten people had gone missing in this part of Miami alone. Maybe not so unusual in a decadent city on a steamy summer night, but she had crunched some unpublicized numbers, turning up the names of at least twenty more MIAâs that had fallen beneath the radar.
What happened to those people?
As a fact-finder for the Miami Tribune, Kelsie knew that numbers, and the ways to get them, were her game. She was damn good at her job. Now, though, like all wannabe writers who longed to move up in the world of journalism, she needed a break.
âSo here I am, in the market for a monster.â An Other. A creature out of legend that would help her get that elusive byline.
What she wanted was a werewolf.
With a grin, Kelsie leaned back against the warm brick on the outside patio of the Havana Club, untasted martini in her hand, trying not to call attention to herself. Her gray silk camisole and black skirt amounted to camouflage in this chic crowd. She had understated her makeup; nothing too red or too vibrant. Her shoulder-length blonde hair was down, straight and combed off to one side.
As a matter of fact, she might have gone a tad too far by understating everything, she acknowledged, watching the dancing, flirting hordes of men and women making the scene. By keeping her distance and blatantly showing her indifference to the art of the pickup, she might actually stand out a little.
Still, if anyone could find a werewolfâgiven that there were such thingsâshe was determined to do so. If anything could lure a werewolf out of hiding, a Blood Moon would be the ticket. Her senses were keen enough to sniff out a story, honed by her journalism background and the attention she paid to her surroundings. She tried to process details in a manner similar to the way she supposed werewolves sucked up moonlight. Taking it all in.
Thus far, at this club, however, she had only come across wolves of another sort. The usual kind. Problem was, there were too many people jammed into a tight space to see individuals clearly. The hum of voices had escalated over the thump of the music as bar drinks flowed.