Page 13 of Nick (The Moonstone Pack #4)

THE SUNBURST ART FESTIVAL enveloped Nick as he stepped into the crowd with Sarah by his side, the scent of acrylic paint and sun-warmed clay mingling with the savory aroma of street food.

His wolf prowled just beneath the surface, eager to mark its territory, to claim what was his in the eyes of the unsuspecting crowd—many of whom were humans, he realized.

“Looks like the whole town turned out,” Sarah murmured, her voice a soft contrast to the buzz around them.

“Where did all the humans come from?” he asked.

“The festival draws people from several counties,” Sarah said. “Not all of them are pack.”

Nick grunted in reply, barely registering her words as his gaze swept over the park. His eyes were sharp and calculating, seeking the perfect stage for their charade. They needed to be seen, truly seen, for their ruse to work, for the pack dynamics to shift in their favor once more.

And then he spotted it—the fountain. Its water danced under the New Mexico sun, casting a shimmering spray. It stood like an oasis, the ideal backdrop for the display they intended.

“Over there,” he said, nodding toward the fountain without looking at Sarah. “It’s perfect.”

The hint of a plan laced through his tone, a thread of dominance.

This was more than a performance; it was a reclaiming, a statement to any who dared question his place in the pack—or Sarah’s.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Always,” Sarah said, her brown eyes meeting his with a mix of emotions swirling within them—regret, desire, and something more, something he couldn’t read.

She understood the stakes, the need to create this illusion, weave it so tightly that not even the most discerning shifter could unravel it.

Nick’s hand captured Sarah’s with an ironclad grip.

The warmth of her palm seared against his skin as he wove them through the throngs of art enthusiasts and casual bystanders.

Their bodies moved in tandem, Nick leading, cutting through the crowd.

Artist stalls blurred past, bursts of color and creativity.

As they approached the fountain, the noise of the festival receded, replaced by the sound of his own breathing, the pulse of his blood.

The scent of earth and oil paint drifted on the breeze, but it was Sarah’s subtle fragrance that captured Nick.

He could feel the eyes on them, sense the whispers and fleeting glances from pack members, catching snippets of intrigue that swirled around them like the dust devils that sometimes rushed across Sunburst’s landscape.

“Keep close,” Nick murmured, his voice husky. She nodded, her fingers tightening around his in response—a silent acknowledgment of the performance they were entrenched in.

As they reached the fountain, Nick’s other arm snaked around Sarah’s waist. With a fluid motion, he drew her into the shelter of his body.

Her soft curves melded into his hard lines, fitting perfectly, maddeningly right.

He pressed her back against the cool stone rim of the fountain, the water’s gentle murmur a stark contrast to the thundering of his pulse.

The sun bore down on them like a spotlight for their show against the backdrop of chattering festivalgoers.

Nick leaned in, the air between them charged with the electricity of suppressed need.

His gaze locked onto hers, his eyes darkened with the intent of his inner wolf—dominant, claiming what was his.

Sarah’s breath was warm on his cheek, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession against his own.

This dance, this game—they played it all too well. They always had.

For a moment, the world outside their bubble ceased to exist; there was only the heat of her body, the mix of lust and anger that brewed inside him.

And as they stood there, cloaked in the pretense of passion, Nick felt the razor-sharp edge of reality threatening to cut through the charade.

But duty called louder than desire, and with a final squeeze of her waist, he steeled himself for the act that would convince everyone of the lie they had to live.

His fingers traced the curve of her hip as he leaned in, his lips a breath away from hers. The thrumming beat of the festival around them faded into a dull murmur, his entire being focused on the woman before him.

“Ready?” he murmured, his voice a low growl that resonated with the primal instincts of his wolf. The intensity in his gaze held her, willing her to submit, to remember the connection that once burned between them.

“Yes.” Her pulse fluttered beneath his touch, a wild rhythm of both fear and desire. Sarah’s gaze met his with an emotion that cut through the years of pain and betrayal. There was longing there, a desperate plea for forgiveness.

Nick felt her shiver slightly, whether from the intensity of his stare or the uncertainty of their charade, he couldn’t tell. But he reveled in the power he wielded, the undeniable pull of their bond that neither pack politics nor personal grievances could fully sever.

“Stay with me,” Nick said. He needed her to believe in their act.

Sarah’s chest heaved against his, a silent testament to the turmoil that gripped her just as tightly as his arms did now. She was caught in the trap of his presence, ensnared by the potent mix of dominance and yearning Nick exuded.

A growl rumbling deep within his chest, Nick surrendered to the call of his desires. His lips claimed Sarah’s with an urgency he hadn’t expected.

The curious glances of the art festival attendees became insignificant, shadows flitting at the edge of his consciousness as he focused solely on Sarah. Her softness contrasted with the hard lines of his muscular form, the heat of their bodies melding together.

Nick’s hands touched her with a possessiveness that spoke of untamed instincts. His fingers crept higher, bunching the fabric of her blouse, pulling her impossibly closer until there was no space for doubt or regret—only the searing connection of their forms.

The kiss deepened, a dance of dominance and submission that mirrored their inner wolves.

Nick’s senses were awash with Sarah—the taste of her lips sweet as a desert bloom, the sound of her soft moans more intoxicating than any melody, and the scent of her skin, a heady mix of sage and earth, filling him with a longing that clawed at his restraint.

Around them, the park’s vibrant energy—the laughter of children, the chatter of artists hawking their crafts, the strumming of a distant guitar—all of it disappeared into nothingness.

In this moment, there was only Sarah, the magnetic pull she exerted over him as undeniable as the moon’s call to the tide.

Nick’s world had narrowed to a single point, where every heartbeat, every breath was attuned to the woman in his arms. The wolf within him stirred, recognizing the mate he had fought so hard to resist yet now clung to with a desperation that bordered on madness.

Nick’s resolve crumbled under Sarah’s eagerness, her fingers weaving a path into his hair.

He growled low in his throat, the sound muffled by the press of her lips, a primal rumble echoing his wolf’s approval.

Her body yielded to his with a readiness that sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through him.

Her soft curves melted against his harder lines, and the taste of her was a potent blend of need and nostalgia, a reminder of what had been—and what could never be.

Time lost its meaning as the rest of the festival became nothing more than a backdrop to the tempest raging within Nick.

Their tongues tangled as his hands roamed over her back, tracing her skin as if he could map out the path to her heart—a heart he’d once believed was his, a belief shattered by betrayal yet now pulsing against him once again.

With each breath, Nick drew in more of her essence, filling the void left by years of hurt and confusion.

Every touch reignited the fierce desire that had always simmered beneath the surface of their bond, a bond that, despite everything, continued to tether him to her.

This was the woman who had haunted his dreams, the mate his wolf yearned for despite her past betrayal.

But even in the vortex of their passion, a sliver of control remained lodged within him, a reminder of the line he would not cross. With a strength that bordered on agony, he wrenched himself away, severing the electric connection of their kiss.

The wolf inside him prowled, restless and hungry, but Nick the man held the reins tightly, aware that this was simply a display for prying eyes.

Sarah’s lips, swollen and pink, curved into a smile as she gasped for air.

Her cheeks bloomed with a rosy hue, the color of desert wildflowers after a rare downpour.

Her chest rose and fell in rapid succession, drawing his gaze to the delicate curve of her collarbone and further still to the soft swell of her breasts.

Desire, thick and undeniable, hung in the air between them like the charged particles before a storm.

Her eyes filled with longing, an echo of the raw need that coursed through his own veins, a reflection of his own arousal, the primal urge that pulled him toward her.

Even now, with betrayal hanging heavy between them, the connection refused to be severed. It was a force of nature.

For a moment, he allowed himself the luxury of closing his eyes, savoring the afterglow of their kiss, the taste of her still lingering on his lips like the promise of rain in the parched expanse of Sunburst. But only for a moment.

Nick swallowed hard. “We should head back.”

No. That wasn’t enough. He couldn’t allow himself to fall into old habits, into believing their performance—so he needed to make sure Sarah remembered their purpose too.

He was willing to help her save the pack from Vincent—but that didn’t mean he trusted her.

Does it?

Nick bit back a growl, not sure if the flash of anger he felt was directed at Sarah or himself.

He straightened, his hand sliding from Sarah’s hair to cup her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze—a gaze filled with unspoken command. He leaned in close. “Remember why we’re here.” His words made her stiffen. “This is all for show, Sarah. Don’t start thinking any of this is real.”

The warning was clear, a reminder of the lines drawn in the sand, the boundaries of their ruse. It was a jab at her vulnerability. The romance between them was nothing more than a carefully orchestrated dance, and Nick was leading.

Sarah’s eyes widened, a flicker of hurt passing over her features as quickly as it came, replaced by a mask of composure.

But Nick saw it—the briefest flash of pain before she buried it deep beneath the surface. It pained him too, the necessity of his coldness, but he couldn’t afford to let her see that.

Not when so much was at stake.

And yet he found his anger fading into sadness.

He bit that back too.

It’s all a show , he reminded himself.

With a final squeeze of her hand, Nick signaled the end of their performance. He drew her away from the fountain’s edge, his grip firm yet careful not to cause pain.

They stepped back into the throng of festivalgoers, their public display of affection now a memory to be whispered about among the curious onlookers.

As they melded back into the crowd, the scent of her still lingered on him, threatening to unravel his control.

Nick wove through the crowds, his mind churning with the turmoil of their staged intimacy.

The warmth of Sarah’s skin seeped into him, tempting and forbidden. He could almost taste the salt of her sweat. But the sweetness of her scent also held the bitter tang of memories, memories of betrayal that had once torn through his heart.

His wolf prowled just beneath the surface, straining against the leash of his human restraint.

It yearned for the woman beside him, demanded her with an intensity that bordered on madness.

Yet the same beast snarled within him at the recollection of her deception, a wound that time had done little to heal.

“Nick?” Sarah’s voice was soft, tinged with uncertainty.

He glanced down at her, those deep brown eyes nearly unraveling him. “Keep moving.”

With each step, Nick fought the urge to pull her back, to claim her mouth again and mark her as his own in front of all these oblivious humans.

The thought sent a thrill through him, a dangerous blend of possessiveness and desire that defied the pact they had made. This was about power, about showing the lurking eyes of the Sunburst Pack that Sarah was his.

Even if it was all a pretense.

But there was no denying the raw lust that threaded through his veins, a hunger that had nothing to do with appearances. For a fleeting second, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to truly have Sarah again, to strip away the lies and lay bare their connection.

“Watch out!” Sarah’s warning came just in time as Nick narrowly dodged an artist’s display, his focus snapping back to the present.

“Careful,” he murmured, though whether it was an admonition to her or a warning to himself, he couldn’t say.

As they emerged from the crowd and into a quieter side street, the sounds of the festival began to fade.

“Nick,” Sarah started, but he shook his head.

“Not now,” he said, all the unsaid words of the last several years hanging heavy between them.

Nick steered them away from the festival, his senses alert, his guard up.

If a simple kiss at a festival had been this distracting, how the hell was he going to manage to keep the ruse going long enough for Bronx and Ryker to return?

Long enough to be able to deal with Vincent’s depravities.