Under the Moon

Under

the

Moon

goddesses rising

book one

Natalie J. Damschroder

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2011 by Natalie J. Damschroder. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at www.entangledpublishing.com.

Edited by Kerri-Leigh Grady

Cover design by Hot Damn Designs

Ebook ISBN 978-1-937044-54-1

Print ISBN 978-1-937044-55-8

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition December 2011

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: AC/DC, American Medical Association, Band-Aids, Boston Landing, Camaro, Charger, Crocs, Daddy Warbucks, Dean Koontz, Dumpster, Fairfield Inn, Fairfield University, Federal Bureau of Investigation, Formica, Henley, Hoyer, Ibuprofen, J. Crew, Jetway, Lexus, Metallica, Metro Cab, Mustang, NFL Network, Ohio State University, Plexiglas, Prius, Romance Writers of America, Samuel Adams Beer, Sarett Nature Center, Taser, Taurus, Toyota, Vulcan, Walmart, Westminster, X-Men.

This book is dedicated to Jim, who taught me what falling in love was all about in the first place, and made sure I never

had to face the despair of hard choices.

Chapter One

Society views goddesses the same way they view psychics—most people don’t believe in us, and since there are only about a hundred goddesses in the United States, skeptics rarely have occasion to be proven wrong. Some people have open minds but still no reason to seek to use a goddess’s talents. If you choose a public career as a goddess, you join in the responsibility for image maintenance. Help us keep public opinion positive.

—The Society for Goddess Education and Defense,
Public Relations Handbook

…

When Quinn Caldwell’s cell phone rang, she assumed one of her clients needed an appointment or a Society member had a question about next week’s annual meeting. It took her a second to pull her attention from the paperwork on her desk, another three to register the name on the screen.

Nick Jarrett.

Her spark of joy at seeing his name quickly changed to concern. He wouldn’t be calling for anything good. Quinn plugged her ear against the noise from the bar outside her office door, held her breath, and flipped open the phone. “Nick?”

“Quinn.” The rumble of his vintage Charger’s engine harmonized with Nick’s voice. “Service isn’t good out here so just listen.”

She knew it. “What’s wrong?”

“We have a problem. I’m coming early. I’ll explain when I get there. I won’t have a very good cell signal most of the time. I’m at least a day away, so stay close to Sam, and don’t…” His voice cut in and out before disappearing altogether.

Quinn’s skin prickled. She closed the phone, frowning. Nick never came until at least the week before new moon, when she was most vulnerable. In the fifteen years of their relationship, he’d never come a whole week early.

Something big had to be happening.

Quinn was the only goddess whose power source was the full moon, which meant she was only fully able to use her abilities for the seven days around it. As the month waned, she grew more “normal” until the new-moon period, when she had no ability to tap the power. That was when Nick appeared. Never now.

“Who was that?” Sam’s solid, warm hand landed on her shoulder, and he dropped a pile of papers on the desk in front of her. Quinn blinked at the shift from the surreal nature of the phone call to the mundane clutter of her narrow office at the back of Under the Moon, the central-Ohio bar she’d inherited from her father. It was her main business, a connection to the parents who died within months of each other twelve years ago, leaving her without any real family. It also kept her connected to the public between power cycles. The goddesses who made a living with their abilities mostly relied on word of mouth to find clients, and Quinn’s bar, centrally located for locals and travelers, had enough people channeling through it to give her customers for both businesses.

“Nobody,” she said, still lost in thought. She shook off the fog. “I mean, Nick.”

Sam’s eyebrows disappeared under his dark, shaggy bangs. He crossed to his smaller but far more organized desk near the office door. His chair squeaked when he dropped into it. “Nick called you?”

“Yeah. He’s coming early.”

“Great.” Sam glowered and mumbled something under his breath. “Why? The moon is barely waning gibbous.”

“I don’t know. The signal dropped.” She worried her lower lip.
Stay close to Sam
. Why? The order was protective—and after all, Nick was her protector, so that was his default mode—but what did she need protection from? She rubbed her right forearm, the phantom ache a reminder of the first time Nick had been assigned to her, that “goddess” wasn’t a synonym for “invincible.”

Sam sighed. “When is he getting here?”

“I don’t know that, either.” She rested her head on her hand, her elbow on a pile of folders on her worn oak desktop. The full moon would completely wane by tomorrow, taking most of her power with it, so she’d worked steadily for the last week, using mostly telekinesis and her healing ability to help her clients. She hadn’t slept enough to balance the depletion of her normal energy, and her sluggish brain resisted the apprehension buzzing in her now.

“We’ll have to wait until he shows up, I guess.” She shook off the mental fuzzies and focused on Sam. He watched her, longing mixing with concern in his light brown eyes.

“How long did you sleep?” he asked.

She stifled a yawn. “Seven hours, six minutes.”

He shook his head. “That’s not enough.”

“Gonna have to be. It sounds like we have a full house tonight.”

“It’s busy for a Tuesday,” he acknowledged. Murmurs and laughter mixed with the jukebox music filtering in from the main room. It was still early, too.

“Bets and Katie are both sick, so they probably need us out there.” She stood and stretched, closing her eyes briefly and arching with her arms high. He didn’t answer. “Sam?” She caught him staring at the stretch of skin bared by her sweatshirt and tugged it over the waistband of her jeans. Heat seeped through her, dragging tingles in its wake. Did he notice her skin flush?

He gave himself a little shake and pulled his gaze away. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess.” But he scowled.

Quinn propped her hands on her hips. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He sat up and shifted papers on his desk, but she knew it wasn’t “nothing.”

“Sam.”

He sighed. “We need to talk. You’ve put me off all week, and now we’ve got Nick…”

Shit. She had hoped Nick coming early would put an end to this debate. She dragged her cotton apron off the back of her chair and busied herself tying it. “I’d better get to work.”

But Sam didn’t get up. His voice was low and deep when he said, “Why didn’t you come to me?”

Her hands stilled, and she avoided his steady gaze by checking for her order pad and pen. “You know why.”

“I’m still here.” He stood and came around the desk, and she couldn’t help but look at him now. He dwarfed her, filling her vision, his scent flooding her senses, feeding the grinding need she’d battled for weeks. She kept her lids shuttered so he couldn’t see the inevitable dilation of her pupils and take the reaction the wrong way. Her moon lust knew what Sam could give her, her body giving a Pavlovian response to his nearness.

Tapping her power source had a price. As energy flowed through her, it depleted her resources like exercise depleted an athlete. Instead of needing water and vitamins to balance her body, Quinn needed sex. She’d never understood why, but her body had always been recharged by that primal connection to another human being. She hadn’t had that for three months now, and the longer she resisted, the more difficult it got.

So Sam’s long legs, ridged stomach, and broad chest all called to her. Quinn’s hands flexed, anticipating the silk of his shaggy hair bunched in them.
Only a few minutes
, a voice whispered in her head.
That’s all it will take. For balance
. A moment of thought, of remembering the heat between them, was enough to make her crave it again. Her mouth watered as she watched Sam’s long-fingered hand track up his chest and around the back of his neck, a move she knew was calculated.

That didn’t matter. She took a step toward him, then forced herself to stop. She’d told Sam three months ago that she wouldn’t use him anymore and had held fast to the decision no matter how willing he was. It had been six years since she’d first had sex with him, and she’d only recently understood the damage they were doing to each other. Sam didn’t believe she could stop, but she
had
fought the moon lust for nearly twelve weeks. Tomorrow would end this full-moon cycle; she’d have it completely under control, and it would get easier next month. It had to.
Yeah, because it’s been a cakewalk so far
. But she didn’t have to convince herself—she had to convince Sam.

“I’ve told you. What we’re doing isn’t fair. You’ve stopped dating, stopped even looking for—” She hesitated, uncertain how to phrase it.

“I don’t need to look for it.” His tone was hard with conviction, and Quinn closed her eyes, despairing.

“That’s my point,” she said. “I’m tying you up, and you deserve better.”

“That’s a matter of debate, and you don’t have to suffer because of it.”

Her laugh didn’t need to be forced. “Not having sex isn’t suffering.”

“For you it is.”

He’d closed the distance between them, and though Quinn knew she didn’t move, her body seemed to surge toward him in agreement. She breathed in the remains of the aftershave he’d used this morning and wavered. He smelled so
good
.

A shout came from the other side of the paneled door, jerking Quinn out of her trance and replacing it with guilt. She couldn’t give in. Sam cared too much. And so did she, but not in the way he wanted.

“We’ll talk about this later,” she said as the racket outside the door escalated.

“You bet we will.” He set his jaw and opened the door, striding out ahead of her.

Quinn followed, her heart and body aching. She immersed herself in taking drink and snack orders from the bikers crowding around four-tops and stroking cues around the two pool tables, but being busy didn’t distract her mind. When she wasn’t detouring every trip around the room to peer out the front door to see if Nick had arrived, she was fretting over Sam.

He was her best friend and more. The son of a goddess, he’d been fresh out of college when he came to her six years ago looking for a job. He’d designed his education around becoming his mother’s assistant, but she’d died soon after graduation. Sam believed she’d put too much wear and tear on her body using her power to help others. Since he couldn’t save her, he’d found Quinn.