Cherry Moon (Four Moons)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

AKIRA

Chocolate sponge cupcakes with a pistachio frosting and filling?

Whoa. What a combo. And what a moist sponge.

“Damn, I’m good,” I declared.

Massive chef’s kiss to me, cheers and thanks. Because these flavors were making my taste buds weep.

I did a little happy dance around the kitchen, singing along to my own made-up ditty. “Baking wizard, that is me. Whipping that mixture like a busy bee.” Reaching my limits lyric wise, I threw out an, “I think I might be a genius.”

When it came to baking, I rocked, so I had the right to be a cocky bastard. Well, a tiny bit cocky. You know, just enough for me to do the hair flicking, but staying away from full-on arrogance.

Being a dickhead about it would force karma to give me the smackdown. Probably in the form of sinking my next soufflé along with my pride.

Okay, enough of blowing my own horn.

For now.

I examined my thirteen baked masterpieces—baker’s dozen for the win—the green icing perfection, sprinkled with chopped pistachios I’d dipped in edible gold. Just to give them that cheeky bit of bling.

Sunlight broke through the overcast morning, sunshine piercing the cottage windows at the same time my chest swelled with gratitude.

The same gratitude I’d always carried with me through my baking journey, from my humble beginnings to running my online business, Aki Bakes, which I ran from my busy kitchen.

I was mega grateful for my baking skills. They were an escape, a release, tools to clear the mind and soothe my soul. The moment I picked up a spoon or whatever, my creative juices got to flowing, setting me free from my anxieties for a while.

And oh, did I have plenty of those to go around.

I put the cupcake down with the rest of the batch. “Welcome to the world,” I told it.

I leaned on the white marble kitchen worktop, nibbling on glacé cherries, thinking about Gabriel’s reaction when he got home later.

He gave the best reviews. No bullshit, always honest, and when they were good, well, it got me sticky.

Gabriel, also known as G. My fiancé, my world, my everything. Former beta werewolf to my late father, an uber wolf, and the greatest honey bunny to ever exist.

My honey bunny.

I loved him beyond love. That word didn’t do my feelings for him justice.

“A proper diamond geezer,” I whispered, picking up another cherry.

For sure. The man had saved me in so many ways. And kept on saving me by sharing my life, a bed, and everything else. We were meant to be, written in the stars, all of that stuff. Being without him would be like having no oxygen.

Impossible.

I held up the glacé cherry, completely addicted to them now. They’d replaced my former obsession with chocolate-covered raisins. Ha! I didn’t think those choccy yummies would ever be dethroned, but here we were.

“Usurper,” I told the red orb.

The morning continued to brighten, the sky blue, the sun really going for it now. Blimey. I hadn’t checked the forecast yet, but had been expecting gray, gray, and more gray.

Clearly not.

I leaned back to stretch before putting the lid on the tub of cherries, trying to resist, only to pop it and grab myself another.

Willpower? Are you there?

Life was all about cherries during September, from the fruit to the blossom.

Every second Monday of September, the moon began its seven-night run as the Cherry Moon—the holiest week of the year. The big rock turned a pale pink on the first night, the color of Sakura blossoms, finishing as a deep cherry red on the seventh night.

Today was day one.

What a sight. Talk about pretty. And the air caught this sweet cherry scent that blew your nostrils away. Just so good, like someone lit the best scented candle for a week.

Because of all the drama that’d gone down in recent times, and the terrible damage inflicted upon the world, the tenshi were now trying to put things right by giving the planet a healing touch every Cherry Moon.

As well as the spectacle in the sky, a stream of Sakura got released from the heart of Japan and London, soaring around the globe, landing in towns and cities to shed glittery particles of pink pollen wherever they flew.

They specifically targeted the places damaged by mazoku attacks—demonic nasties with apocalyptic desires.

Down with the mazoku, man. The thought of them always made my guts boil.

The combination of the moonlight and the blossoms would bolster the regrowing of felled forests, for example, and also boost the rate of repair work carried about by the good people of the world.

It was as if their presence put a spring in the steps of every worker, cheering them on during the month, and across most of the following year.

Awesome stuff.

London, one of the worst hit during the whole Mama Rita and the mazoku saga I was tangled up in, had come along leaps and bounds. Not that I’d seen it for myself, choosing to stay away from my home turf since moving to Wales.

“Eternal thanks to the tenshi,” I said, wiping down my worktop.

The Cherry Moon also destroyed lesser mazoku, and weakened the more powerful ones, making them easier to destroy overall.

They were still around, unfortunately, wanting revenge for having their arses kicked.

Stewing in their prisons, clinging to hate.

Those weaker dickheads would just vanish across the week, unable to withstand the holy touch of our creators, who were the angelic opposite of the mazoku.

But a lot of demonic pricks remained. In fact, there’d been an uptick in mazoku-related attacks recently, which never boded well.

What was this, a third go at starting a proper apocalypse?

And it didn’t stop crime. There were still nefarious dickheads on the streets, and gangs running their shady hustles. And still a lot of suffering, still sickness and disease. Maybe one day, after several Cherry Moons, that stuff would all be gone.

Fingers crossed.

Done with wiping my surfaces down, I opened the living room’s patio doors to let some air in.

Sunlight poured over the rolling hills beyond our garden, only one wisp of cloud in the sky. A nice day, sunny but not scorching.

Thank fuck!

I stood in the doorway, listening to the birds, my mind still on the mazoku and the guilt I couldn’t quite shake.

You should be out there fighting the good fight, my brain liked to tell me.

I liked to fire back with, If you don’t shut it, I’m gonna eat twenty ice lollies and give you the biggest bitch of a brain freeze!

Yeah, I had the skills to kick mazoku arse. I could be out there hunting them, using my power-sucking katanas to shit on their days. Aki the warrior and all that.

That used to be me. But my boots were well and truly hung up nowadays. Don’t get me wrong, I’d always throw down if need be, and had done so a few times recently. Although, most of the time a mazoku would scarper off, afraid of the tenshi half of me inherited from my mum.

A werewolf dad and a tenshi mum. It still blew my mind.

Given the choice between stepping back into that life or staying in my love bubble? The bubble won every single time.

Still, guilt wormed its way to my core. Things felt like they were on the cusp of getting, I don’t know, bad again. So I should be stepping up to meet it.

How dare I be all peaceful?

How dare I be so laser-focused on baking and boinking my precious slice of man pie?

How dare I have found love?

Lost and drifting and hiding.

I rolled my eyes, hating this stupid comedown after my baking high.

Overthinking, who’d want it?

A shadow slithered into my garden, red eyes aimed my way, claws out to tear and kill.

I folded my arms, cocking my head to the side. “I was just thinking about you.”