Releasing soon is my Ellora's Cave quickies CARNAL MOON, my first published werewolf story.
Here are the 'unproofed' blurb and excerpt for the story:
On the first night of each full moon, werewolves cannot resist the calling, an instinctual need to mate. Living a double life has never been difficult for Holly, but in her world, if her species is to survive, all she can look forward to is down-and-dirty, uninhibited sex with a different partner each month. She has never had reason to complain though. Until now.
Hell. This wolf was big. Intimidating. And he meant business. His silver-gray eyes flashed as his tail arched high, his snout compressed.
Pheromones thickened the air and sharpened acute need. The flex and bunch of his muscles revealed his impatience a split second before he surged toward her.
She leapt forward, meeting him halfway, her teeth bared as she went straight for his throat. Canines sank past his thick brown-black pelt and through corded muscle and skin before drawing blood.
The metallic tang filled her mouth, intoxicating as any drug. She whimpered even as he broke free and whipped around, the dominant male ruthless and barely restrained.
His near shoulder rammed her hard and knocked her flying, and she thudded onto the dry-baked earth, air whooshing out of her lungs.
Shit. She could do nothing but wait for the oxygen that finally wheezed back into her lungs. And the male, damn him to hell, prowled forward, completely aware of her plight.
He was in his element, his prime, and she squirmed helplessly when his weight pressed her hard against the earth. Rotting vegetation and pungent eucalyptus filled her nostrils, quickly replaced by his raw male scent.
Every cell demanded she rut with him, seek the satisfaction she craved. But she wouldn’t be an easy lay. She wanted foreplay…at least, the werewolf version of it.
She faked collapse from oxygen deprivation, and as he shifted to snuffle her face with his wet nose, she made her move.
Twisting free, she shot forward. Now she was in her element. Even as a lycan, she was swift, a fact that enhanced the chase, the rough and tumble.
Hard and fast was the order of the day, especially for a male who knew he might have a rival to contend with, one who could challenge his claim to sire future generations. But Holly could scent no other males as she used all the inherent agility and grace of the wolf to outrun and outmaneuver her counterpart.
He was up for the game and closed in fast. The brewing storm crept upon them. Overhead, heavy black clouds concealed the moon and plunged everything into darkness. She knew that either of them could have changed back to human in that moment. Neither did. It seemed that this was a challenge he relished as well.
Lightning split the sky and briefly illuminated the ground but Holly used her exceptional lycan sight as she jumped from a rotting log and belly flopped into the creek she’d earlier crossed. Her legs moving like pistons, she swam to the other side, scrabbling for purchase on the slippery bank even as he splashed in from behind.
The adrenaline of the hunt, the chase, was fast dissolving. In some primeval part of her mind, Holly knew only the strongest, fleetest and most powerful lycan—one who could better her, master her—was worth mating.
Having a future generation of smart, tough, fast werewolves was paramount.
Heavy raindrops splattered the earth when the large male caught up and pinned her to the ground, his jaw clamped to her ruff.
A lycan in lust was no gentleman.
A throaty growl rumbled deep in his throat—the male making his intentions clear. He wasn’t to be messed with.
Only when she willingly surrendered, staying passive beneath him, did his weight abruptly change, his form becoming lighter and more compact as paws became hands and his lycan body became human.
Holly felt the change come upon her immediately after and she tried to relax as she endured the pain. To resist was futile. Fighting the change made it almost intolerable. As with all lycans, she had little control when changing from human to beast as a full moon climbed the sky.
When sexually aroused, and with fulfillment close, lycans invariably changed back into human form. None really understood why they became human again—fear of bestiality? Fewer cared. When hormones raced out of control, the instinct to mate took over all logic.
Holly whined low in her throat, yielding quickly to the stranger and to her own change. There was little time to pacify the beast within. She needed to copulate, and she needed to now.
Her fur abruptly withdrew into skin that contracted like vacuum wrap. Her bones shifted and popped, her skull growing even as her snout retracted.
He was a master at change. The process had been all but over in seconds and hadn’t seemed to bother him one bit. Clearly he had grown immune to the torment of change.
She sagged, hardly aware the hurting had gone and that she was human once more, until his fangs retreated, his bite became a kiss.
Facedown, she moaned. Electric shivers pulsed through every nerve ending that his mouth touched. His tongue flicked her ear, his cock nudged between her thighs.