Fated Under the Moon

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  FATED UNDER THE MOON

  First edition. November 23, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Abby McCarthy.

  Written by Abby McCarthy.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Fated Under the Moon

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Note To Reader

  Acknowledgments

  Also by ABBY McCARTHY

  About the Author

  To Mindy: I made you a werewolf

  Fated By The Moon

  Destined by the Fates

  Book One

  A Novel

  By ABBY McCARTHY

  Chapter One

  What was I thinking? It was totally normal to accept a job offer in a small town in random wherever-the-fuck, USA when you've never visited it, never heard of it, and can't even find it on a map, right? I mean, come on, if Mapquest can't take you there, was it even a place?

  Sure, there were phone interviews. There was even a video interview. But when my itinerary came, and it included typed-out instructions for when I got off the freeway, I seriously questioned my judgment.

  Okay, okay, maybe my judgment had been in question for a while now. There was Steven, and before him, Ryan. Both were good-looking, neither were all that awesome and by "not that awesome," I mean that Steven shaved and not just his nether regions; I mean, he shaved all of it—all the manscaping—not a good look.

  And Ryan, bless his heart, he was sweet. Don't get me wrong, sweet can be good, but Ryan cried. When I say that, I'm saying he put my hormonal, I binged on too many episodes of Grey's Anatomy and have my arms wrapped around my rocking, sobbing ass to shame. There was my job as a hand model; no kidding, I have great hands, but I stayed for far too long, even though it was apparent to everyone, including me, that the director had a fetish for hands.

  There was also my short-lived job as a police officer. I thought I could do it; I really did. I took the job seriously, or at least I did. I went to the academy and even took extra kickboxing and self-defense classes. I could be a badass when I needed to, except I couldn't write tickets to save my life. I'd pull someone over, and their story got me every time. I learned pretty early on that I couldn't write bullshit tickets for going forty-five in a thirty.

  So, my resume wasn't stellar. I frilled it up with lots of words to compensate, exaggerating my qualities a fair amount, no more or less than most people probably did.

  I had been living with a roommate that I found on Craigslist. Not the cleanest fellow, but his only real downside was that he left pizza boxes stacked around his desk that he gamed at in his tighty-whities. It was fine. I could deal with skinny white legs, plus he shared his pepperonis with me.

  There wasn't all that much tying me to Seattle, so when I got a job offer in Ohio, I decided, what the heck, I could give it a go. Nothing was holding me back.

  I turned my car down another long road surrounded by corn. It was hotter than I anticipated. Sunnier too. Seattle wasn't always rainy like most people thought, but this was something. The thermometer on my dashboard read 102°. It was a heatwave.

  My last stop was twenty minutes ago when I got off the highway at a gas station, thinking it would be good to fill up because who knew if there was even a gas station in town. I hadn't been paying attention to the temperature until I got out and was suddenly blasted with moist heat that wasn't like any heat I'd ever been exposed to.

  I passed another row of corn and glanced back and forth between the empty road and the slightly crumpled paper that I had spilled a tiny bit of coffee on somewhere around mile number two-zillion and ten. It was telling me to go left at a blue barn. I kept second-guessing if I went too far and wondered if I should turn around. What if I already passed it? I was about to turn around at an upcoming intersection when I spotted it.

  Making the left, I looked down to read the next direction, a right down a dirt road between two large trees, and felt the strangest sensation move through me. It was hard to describe, but I felt it from the tips of my toes all the way through my fingers. It warmed me, and I felt the slightest pinch in my shoulder blades. Maybe it was pins and needles?

  I turned up my air to full blast then looked at my directions again.

  I needed to stretch my legs and hoped I was there soon. Looking around and shaking off the odd sensation, I wondered, not for the first time, where the heck I was going. If I hadn't seen the Better Business Bureau report for this company, right about now, I would think that this was some scam to get women out into the middle of nowhere to do Lord knows what kind of nefarious things to them.

  Cash was just about to bellow how the flames went higher as it burns, burns, burns in a ring of fire when my Sirius radio went out. I checked my phone and noticed I had practically zero bars just as I saw a set of trees ahead. I made the turn then followed along with my bizarre directions.

  Out of nowhere, a small town emerged. The houses got closer and closer, and there was suddenly an abundance of life. An older black woman sat on her porch, rocking in a wicker chair, fanning herself. A group of kids ran through a sprinkler in a front yard. I glanced back down at my directions, then made a left at the following street and turned into the driveway of where I would now call home.

  It was a large home that had been turned into four separate units. My company offered me a place to stay at the residence, but I declined. Knowing my personality, I would want to separate from my job when the day was done. I had money left over from a small inheritance from my dad's passing, so even though the apartment on site was supposed to be a perk, I declined that part of the deal, opting to have my own space instead.

  The driveway I turned into was gravel, and a fair amount of dust kicked up as I pulled in. I parked in a spot, and no sooner than I turned off my engine did I hear a motorcycle pull up right alongside me. I began to open my door but noticed that the bike was extremely close to my car. A quick knock on my window signaled that the driver wanted me to roll it down. Since I shut off my car already, I had to turn it back on before the automatic windows would roll down.

  Rude much?

  I impatiently hit the button to roll my window down at the same time I started my car.

  Come on, window. Roll down.

  What could this guy want? There was another impatient tap on my window, and finally, it began rolling down. I looked up at the offending knocker. He was a tall man with a thick wall of chest I had to look past to see his face. I first saw salt and pepper hair on his chin. I couldn't see his eyes because they were covered by shades, and his baseball hat covered his hair, but the smallest amount of dark hair peeked out from the sides.

  "Can I help you?" I asked once my window was finally down enough.

  "Yeah, you're in my spot. You could move."

>   I huffed, "Manners much?"

  "Lady, everyone knows this is my spot. I like to be able to see my bike from my window. Not trying to give you a hard time, but I've parked here every day for six years."

  "Well, I'm not everyone, and I didn't know," I snipped back.

  He tilted his sunglasses down, and I watched as his eyes took in my back seat and all the stuff I had crammed back there. Then he looked at me, and I could see he was attractive, but that wasn't what made me quickly agree to back out of my spot. No, it was the dark, unrelenting stare that put me off. It wasn't just a glare; there was a coldness behind his eyes. I wasn't one to usually back down, but something about that stare made me decide to give in.

  "Fine, but you're going to need to move so I can get out."

  He gave me a chin lift and backed up his bike enough that I could pull out of the spot. I glanced and saw another space a few down. Seriously, he couldn't have parked there?

  This guy was a real dick.

  I got out of my car, grateful to stand and stretch my legs. Apparently, Motorcycle Dick got off his bike because he stood there, watching me. No, that wasn't quite right. It was more like he was eyeing me from top to bottom, determining if he liked what he saw. Well, screw that. He might've been good-looking if you liked that rugged biker look, but he was a prick.

  I turned away from him and reached back into my car to grab my purse. I was supposed to meet the property manager once I got here to get a set of keys. The property manager lived in unit one, and I was across the hall in unit two. I was happy to find a place on the first floor. It was also furnished to a degree. I ordered a new mattress, though, and hoped that those mattresses that came in a box and all you had to do was unroll them and give them time to expand were as comfortable as the ads on social media said they were. I was also hoping that the property manager had no problems putting it inside the apartment for me. The woman I booked the apartment with said it would be fine, so I just had to hope that she wasn't wrong. She also assured me everyone in the building was friendly, and well, so far, she wasn't batting one hundred.

  I beeped the lock on my car and began to walk to the front of the building. The house, as a whole, was painted navy blue, and it appeared to have warped wood siding that needed to be replaced in many areas. At some point, the porch had been painted white, but was chipping, which made me think the picture that was up online was either doctored or really old. The railings had also seen better days, missing almost every other spindle. I wondered if it was even safe to walk on or if I would fall through it at any given moment.

  I tried the door and was surprised by the craftsmanship of it. It was a beautiful, rich, reddish-brown wood with intricate details. It looked custom-made. The handle didn't turn, and it was then I noticed four separate doorbell buzzers. I was about to hit the first buzzer when the door swung open, and Motorcycle Dick was standing there. He must have gone in another entrance because he hadn't come the same way I had.

  He sighed, "You're the new tenant, aren't you?"

  "I am. And you are?" I asked curtly.

  "Name's Ryker. Follow me."

  "Motorcycle Dick has a name," I mumbled so low under my breath I thought there was no way he would hear it. He turned, and his eyes narrowed, making the tiniest lines appear at the crease.

  I walked inside the building, glad it was much more up-to-date on the inside. There was a door to the left and one to the right, then a large staircase that I assumed led to the other two units.

  "Let me grab your set of keys and your paperwork with the lease."

  Ugh, he must be the property manager.

  He opened the door to unit number one and immediately closed it, leaving me in the hallway. I waited for maybe a minute, then he returned, holding papers in one hand and keys in the next. "This key here will get you in the front door. There is no way to buzz anyone in, so if someone buzzes the front door, you'll have to come and get them. This key is for the apartment. The lease is for six months." He unlocked the door then handed me the keys as I followed in behind him.

  There were quite a few boxes stacked in the middle of the room. "Thank you for putting my boxes in here."

  He grunted in response, then pulled out the paperwork, "So, Mrs...."

  "Miss," I corrected.

  "Miss Katz," he said, reading my name off the lease.

  "You can call me Elle, short for Ariel. I get sick of all the Disney princess puns, so how about you call me Elle and leave out the Miss," I babbled.

  "Here's the lease... Elle," he said, trying my name out, "It's eight hundred a month. If something's not working, you can call. If I don't answer, leave a message. The number's written on the back page. You call, and I'll get to it when I get to it."

  I stared at him, blinking a few times. This Ryker guy was back to being known as Motorcycle Dick in my head.

  I grabbed the paperwork. "Do you have a pen?"

  He shot me an annoyed look that said, 'do I look like I have a pen?'

  "Right," I muttered and dug through my purse in search of a pen. Sweat from my brow dripped down into my eye as I searched. I swiped my hand across my forehead. "Please tell me there's air conditioning?"

  Ryker lifted his head and, I swear to God, he was sniffing the air. "You smell funny."

  "Gee, thanks. I just drove for hours on end. I'm sure I can use a shower and some air conditioning. Please tell me there's AC."

  "Nope, and the hardware store's been out of fans since the heatwave started a week ago."

  "You've got to be kidding me."

  "Nope. I don't joke."

  "Clearly," I muttered as evidence was showing that Ryker lacked warmth and also lacked personality.

  "Ah hah!" I shouted as my hand finally came across a pen in the bottom of my purse.

  I signed my name on the dotted line. "Here you go. One signed lease."

  He turned to leave, and since he was the only person I had met so far, I didn't want him to go without answering a few more questions. "Wait!" I shouted an octave louder than I needed it to be. I hated when my voice did that.

  He glared at me and annoyingly asked, "What is it?"

  "I don't have cell service, so I can't Google anything. I need to know where the grocery store is, any restaurants, that kind of thing?"

  "Town's small enough. Three blocks down, you'll run into Main. There's a hardware store, grocery store, diner, and bakery. The post office is a block down from that, and if you make a left by the post office, there are a few bars down that street. But don't go to the one at the end."

  "Why's that?"

  "Because it's mine."

  Well, hold on a second, now that was just rude. "Seriously! I might've parked in the big, bad, scary biker dude's spot, but what the hell did I do that you're all Mr. Grumpy McBiker Dick. I'm new to town. The booking agent said..."

  "The who?"

  "The lady I booked this place with; she said people were nice."

  "You mean Mins? She's my sister. Of course, she said that. She's been trying to get this place rented for a year. No one new moves here. Which begs the question: what are you doing in Southern Springs anyway?"

  "I have a job that starts on Monday."

  His eyes narrowed on me. "Where?"

  "Not that it's any of your business since you obviously don't like me, but I'm working at the Valdere Estate."

  He sucked in a breath when I said Valdere. I should've contemplated this; however, this guy was one moody dude, so I wasn't going to think twice if he hated the Valderes. He probably hated most things.

  "Why would they hire you?"

  "Why would anyone hire you?"

  "I'm my own boss, Sweetheart."

  "Don't sweetheart me."

  He shook his head as if coming out of something. "The Valderes aren't allowed on my property. Don't bring them here, and if I sense that you're anything like them or that they've made you like them, we'll have problems."

  "I think we already do. And what the hell does that mean?" I
harrumphed and continued, "You know they offered me an apartment on the estate, and I turned them down, but I think that maybe I should reconsider."

  "You turned them down?" he asked, more curious than anything.

  "Well, yeah. I didn't want that to be my entire life, you know? Anyway, you obviously have a huge problem with me. Should I just not unpack? Is there a motel to stay in or something? We can just tear up this lease, and your place can remain vacant."

  "Hello!" A chipper voice could be heard from the hallway, then a woman with blonde hair to her shoulders and gigantic blue eyes popped her head into the doorway. "You must be Ariel!" She exclaimed, walking into the room completely.

  "Mins, this isn't a great time." Ryker scolded.

  "I think it's a perfect time." She narrowed her eyes on her brother, silently scolding him.

  "Please don't mind him. I think it's his time of the month or something. He promised he'd behave, and I can tell by your 'I'm ready to bolt' look that he has not been all that awesome. I live upstairs, and I can promise he's not even here that often. You won't have to deal with him. You can call me, and I can talk to his moody butt. Do you need a hand with your bags? I have a couple of friends over, and they'd be happy to help unpack you," She chirpily added.

  I blinked because she was such a one-eighty from her brother that I felt like I was hit by whiplash.

  "Mindy," I said because I was hoping that was what Mins was short for. I didn't want to call her by her brother's nickname. It felt too personal. "It's so nice to meet you, but I don't think your brother wants to rent to me."

  "I didn't say that," he retorted.

  I squinted my eyes at him, "You basically said I wasn't welcome here."

  "You did not, Ryker Alexander. She just drove across the entire country! I promised her that people were nice here, and you're the first person she meets, and you're rude."

  "I wasn't..." he tried to defend himself, but the fiery blonde cut him off.

  "No. I'm sure that's exactly what you were. This apartment has been vacant for a long time, Ariel."

  "Call me Elle."