Moonlight Desire: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 1)

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Moonlight Desire: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 1) Page 8

by K. R. Alexander


  At least I wasn’t sleeping in the dirt. And room and board were free. So many blessings on this trip.

  Lantern in hand, I stepped back outside with Jason, asking if they didn’t have a tent or anything else to set up.

  He smiled like I’d asked him if he’d brought his parka. “We don’t need tents. I wouldn’t even know how to set one up. Don’t worry about us. I hope you’re all right, though. It’s not exactly posh in there. If you want an inn I’m sure we could—”

  “It’s okay, Jason. Thank you. I actually used to camp in New Mexico, believe it or not.”

  “I thought you were from the States?”

  I hesitated. “New Mexico is a state. Mexico is a country.”

  “Right. Well, if you do need anything, just let us know.”

  “Sometimes, when English people say ‘us’ or ‘we’ they mean ‘I’, don’t they?”

  Jason chuckled. “I suppose so. Did you get enough to eat with the potato? Andrew said you’d be expecting dinner.”

  “How did you know I had a potato?”

  “Smell.”

  “What else was on it?”

  “Caramelized onions, summer squash, bell peppers, butter, salt, vinegar. Not sure what else…”

  I regarded him in lantern light on the caravan’s step while Jason looked up at me from the ground. The rest of them were going through things from their bags at the Jeep, Kage and Zar arguing—something about Zar having brought books along and the waste of space.

  “How?” I asked. “You look human. Is your nose really different on the inside when you’re like this?”

  Jason shrugged. “We can’t smell much in skin. A lot better in fur. So … I don’t know. Zar might know. And Andrew and Isaac know humans the best. Sorry.”

  “It’s okay. Thank you for your help.”

  “I didn’t do anything.”

  “Showing me the trailer. We’re going early back to the glen, before sunrise, if you want to come. We can’t take everyone.”

  He nodded. “I’d like to. I don’t mind early.”

  “And I’d appreciate everyone’s phone numbers. I have an international plan for the trip.”

  “Sure. Mine’s in my bag.”

  “We should be able to reach each other in the morning when we’re split up again.” I stepped out with him while Jason went to get his phone from his rucksack in the Jeep, where Zar and Kage still stood with their own stuff. It seemed Jason did not know his number, having to find the thing.

  Zar was brushing his teeth. Kage, with his shirt off, sat in the open back to pull off boots and socks. Andrew sat sideways in an open side door, doing something on his own phone as we walked up. Isaac, around the other side of the Jeep, had just pulled off his shirt and was folding it into his bag. Jed was nowhere in sight.

  “Fancy staying out with us instead?” Kage asked me as we approached.

  I shifted the lantern into my left hand to pull my phone from my pocket with the right. Must charge it some tomorrow if I could. I had the plug and adaptor. Just no power.

  “I should have your numbers in my phone. What’s yours?”

  “Numbers?” Kage frowned. “I didn’t bring a phone. I don’t think…” He grabbed his bag to feel inside.

  “What do you mean you didn’t bring a phone?”

  “I can tell you mine,” Zar said around his toothbrush. He held up a cell off his own bag.

  I stared at it as he spit into the brush, then started to tell me the number.

  “Is that … like … twenty years old? Do those phones still work?” I didn’t mean to be rude about it, but I was shocked. It had been a long time since I’d seen a phone like the little black thing with the inch-square glass screen and plastic keypad that he held.

  “It’s not that old. Just a pay-as-you-go SIM. But it works. It even has a good signal out here.” Zar added the last with a smile as if to prove how delightful it was.

  “Oh,” I said. “Could you tell me the number again please?”

  I input it with the exit code and country code, then Isaac’s as he told me his from across the Jeep. While they talked, I noticed Andrew, who hadn’t looked up, was smirking at his own iPhone screen, which lit his face with a gentle glow.

  “Nope,” Kage said. “Didn’t bring mine.”

  Jason looked sadly down at a phone exactly like Zar’s in his palm. “Battery’s dead.”

  “There’s a charger in the Jeep,” Kage said. “Plug it in tomorrow.”

  “So neither one of you have phones?” I asked.

  “At home,” Kage said defensively.

  “Like Jason’s? Does Jed have the same too?”

  Zar shook his head. “He doesn’t have a mobile.”

  “At all?”

  “I don’t think he’s ever used a phone.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Doubt it,” Kage said. “Why would he? He’s a stranger. Doesn’t want anything to carry, does he?”

  Stranger? I didn’t ask what he meant.

  “It’s all right,” Zar told me. “You have mine and Isaac’s. Andrew will give you his.” Like this vast number of people able to communicate was something to be proud of.

  I walked over to Andrew, who was still smiling and still hadn’t looked up.

  “Are you the only one here with a real phone?” I asked him.

  “Isaac has a smartphone, if that’s what you mean. And you were just about thinking you were on the road with normal people, eh?” Andrew finally looked at me, eyes hooded, smirking.

  “Just tell me your number.”

  “Like to be the active one, do you?”

  “What?”

  “Most human women seem to like to be chased. Not do the chasing. So you should be giving me your number, leave it on me to ring you. Isn’t that right?” Corners of his mouth curved up, yet the hooded eyes were calculating, not smiling.

  “Forget it.” I turned away. “I have Isaac’s and Zar’s. I’ll assume they can get in touch with you if we’re in different places.” My face felt hot as I stalked back to the trailer.

  Zar dashed after me. “Moon bless, Cassia. All right in there? Can I get you anything?”

  “Good night—”

  “You step like a moth.”

  I turned to face him from the door. “I what?”

  Zar had that smile on his face again. Adorable, sincere, faint dimples showing in his cheeks. “Your movements are so elegant. How you walked just now, with your lantern, was light and quick as a moth.” It hadn’t occurred to him that I’d moved quickly because I wanted to be left alone. “Do you know the story of Moon’s light and the field mouse?”

  “Maybe … I could hear it another time. Good night, Zar.”

  “Moon bless—good night.”

  I eased the door shut, giving him a brief smile to soften the blow. Funny how he made me feel guilty for abandoning him out there. Like shutting a lost puppy out in the snow.

  I tried to put Zar, Andrew, phones, and druids out of my mind as I got ready for bed, then faced the prospect of actually going to bed.

  This was the part that scared me, but, taking my lantern for a careful inspection, looking for spiders, centipedes, mold, rot, stains, fur, anything else creeping or crawling, I found there was a fresh cotton sheet on the foam mattress and a worn, but also clean, duvet on top with an extra wool blanket at the foot. Diana’s work preparing for me?

  No … I remembered Rebecca and smiled.

  “Thank you,” I whispered as I settled in.

  But I needn’t have worried about spiders. It turned out the problem wasn’t my aromatic bedchamber. The problem was the night.

  Chapter 13

  Pardon my ignorance, but I’d thought they liked personal space. Territorial, or whatever. And if they wanted to risk local authorities by parking their caravan away from real campgrounds just for a night, fine.

  It took me five minutes after turning out my lantern to understand what was really afoot—why we had to stay away from c
ivilization and human camps. That was how long it took for what sounded like the world’s biggest dog fight to break out beside the trailer.

  I sat up in bed and whack—had to move slower in here. Rubbing my head, I stumbled from bed in pajama bottoms and tank top, slipping into flip-flops.

  I felt my way to the open window in the dark and peered into shadows. Woods were touched in moonlight, revealing a tangle of thrashing, snarling, yelping forms.

  What I’d been taught about werewolves in my education from Nana could fill a postcard: There weren’t many. They didn’t like humans. Some remained in a few areas where they lived isolated lives. Not much more.

  I’d always assumed that full moon thing was a mundane myth, yet had no idea even that they could change into canine form at will like this, much less that they’d do it at the drop of a hat. If they could shift whenever they wanted, why didn’t they have more sense about it? What if some tourist or local farmer happened to hear, or even see, a wolf pack in the nature preserve?

  They had to be stopped. Not only the noise—which was appalling at close range, whether it attracted human attention or not—but the damage they may be doing. What if someone was badly hurt? In the screaming and snarling and whirling out there one could even be killed. Would they do that? Listening to this carnage, it was easy to believe.

  Then … it stopped.

  One huge tangle broke apart into groups, one or two ran off, a few more scuffles, then it seemed everyone was circling away, still growling. A couple of shapes were only black moving on black, yet the rest had pale enough fur to make out hints of the long limbs and large bodies. Only one showed clearly: a single white wolf. This one stood out not only because of his color and great size, but because he seemed to be the center of focus. When the group parted, the white wolf remained at the middle of our clear grove off to the side of the trailer.

  They circled him while he growled like a bear.

  Another scuffle among some of the darker shadows. Focus on the white one broke. The squabble dispersed.

  Again, one or two moved in on the white wolf, snarling and bristling.

  A tense standoff, circling. He raised his head, ears pricked, moving toward his opponents. A pause, low growls, then the final two slipped away into the woods like wraiths.

  The white wolf stood alone in the moonlit clearing which had a second before been the Colosseum. Ears twitching, he seemed to be waiting for another attack. Had the whole lot of them been going for him?

  He looked up, as if hearing something to catch his interest, though he faced the caravan, gazing, perhaps, directly at me. I wasn’t sure if he could see me through the little window screen at the side of the trailer in the dark. Even so, I felt a chill, sure he met my eyes.

  I reached unconsciously to finger the gold charm from Isaac around my neck. I hadn’t taken it off for bed.

  The white wolf turned and also walked away. Limping.

  I lay back with my heart pounding.

  Had they really tried to kill him because I asked him to drive? Showed him favoritism? There must have been something else involved. He was already the outsider, here from another pack. Then again, was I even sure that was Isaac?

  Did hair color and complexion have anything to do with fur color? Just because Isaac was paler than the rest might not mean he was a white wolf. Still … I couldn’t really believe it in this case. I was sure that wolf had been Isaac. Just as sure their ganging up on him had something to do with me.

  Footfalls outside, sniffing, another scuffle and yelp, frequent growling without escalating. A moment of quiet, then paws galloping past.

  Much running and pounding about.

  Quiet again. Were they hunting something? Playing? Chasing each other?

  Were they dangerous to humans?

  Did they think clearly when they were in this form? Did they retain themselves—their personalities?

  What if they happened upon livestock? Or some innocent person walking home from a pub? Or me?

  It took me an hour more than it should have to drift off as I wrestled with these questions. Strange, how what I’d wanted to ask about on the noisy drive had been more information on this murder case—more clues? Any solid suspects already? When what I should have been trying to ask about was much closer to home.

  I jerked awake to sounds of another fight. Short-lived but plenty to jumpstart my pulse and leave me wide-eyed. This one also petered out.

  Drifting off.

  Yelping.

  Awake.

  Yaps and low howls. Maybe they had some sense about the noise level because they were short, broken howls, quickly cut off.

  More running about.

  Drifting off once more.

  Wham. Something crashed into the side of the trailer and I sprang out of bed.

  Paws bounding away.

  Silence.

  I lay back.

  Another fight in the distance.

  Did they not need sleep?

  Another problem, though: now the trailer was cold. Much colder than I’d thought it would get in July. A summer night near the English coast should not be underestimated for temperature drop.

  By the time I finally closed the windows, ready to take the musty stink over the noise and now the Arctic conditions, I was a popsicle.

  I pulled on my hoodie and two pairs of socks, spread the wool blanket and my thin raincoat on top of the duvet, and it still wasn’t enough. I felt damp, shivering, and jarred by sudden noises even with all the windows shut.

  I lay there, fabric of the hood over my nose to combat the smell, thinking of Melanie’s guest room and the sound of the waves, then what I’d agreed to—wondering why. And prayed to Goddess for morning.

  I had set my alarm for 4:30 a.m. so we could drive back to the falls by 5:30 and watch for any sign of druids. Turned out, I didn’t need the alarm. I was awake anyway.

  In a stupor, I got up and washed my face with scant cold water and the glow of the lantern. I dressed, including light hiking shoes, then looked back out through the window with the lantern out behind me.

  There, in predawn moonlight, was nothing but quiet. A peaceful scene of silver-edged blackness. The whole pack curled on the ground in furry balls, tails over their noses. A couple of them nearest the trailer were even curled up together. How sweet.

  I wanted to crash cymbals in their ears, set off fireworks, blast a foghorn—the bastards.

  Shaking for a whole other reason, jaw set, I silently unlocked the trailer door on the side, then threw it open as hard and fast as I could to rocket off the outside trailer wall and ricochet into my face, where I caught it. Not fireworks, but the huge bang in the silent dark of the night was nevertheless satisfying.

  The grove exploded as six piles of fur shot into the air, landed on their paws, and spun about, snarling.

  “I want two volunteers—not three, not six—for the druids’ glen so we can stake it out until tourists start arriving. I want you two to be bipedal and dressed and in the Jeep in ten minutes. And I don’t want to hear another fight break out or I’ll walk into the village, call a taxi for the train station, and you can figure this out on your own. Do you understand me?”

  Silence.

  Twelve gleaming eyes watched me in moonlight. Did they understand? Were they themselves, only furred? Or were they … wolves?

  “Thank you for your cooperation.” I slammed the door and locked it.

  I could get by with cold water to splash on my face and wash my hands and a quick makeup ad lib, but, oh, how I longed for hot coffee. The glen first. Then straight to the nearest town for the nearest, hottest expresso.

  While I waited, I wanted to study Cornwall maps on my phone, or read about Saint Nectan’s Glen. But I had to save battery. I packed up my bag with the phone cord and raincoat—and everything else just in case we got back to find the trailer had been towed.

  I gave them nine minutes and—heart pounding in my throat as I again wondered about their mental states—r
eturned to the Jeep.

  Morning songbirds chirped, even if the sky was still dark, and it made me feel a bit more awake. Not nearly as much as coffee would have.

  They’d already had the Jeep disconnected, facing out, behind the trailer. Now Kage sat in the driver’s seat with the inside light on in the vehicle, pulling on his boots.

  Zar was just dragging his shirt over his head, motorcycle boots already on. His disheveled hair had bits of woodland in it.

  Three wolves still stood around the campsite, watching. One, solid black, sat by the Jeep. He got to his feet when I approached, clearly visible by interior lights from the Jeep.

  I stopped by Zar, not going around to my door as the wolf faced me.

  They’d obviously understood what I’d said, yet they’d spent half the night trying to kill each other. And there was something else that made me uneasy about facing that black wolf in the now illuminated woods. He was so … wolf.

  He was not monstrously large or saber-toothed or glowing-eyed. He looked exactly like a wolf in a wildlife documentary or a zoo. Just as there was nothing to distinguish them from handsome humans with a gym fixation in that form, there was nothing distinguishing this black animal from a big wolf.

  Yet that was enough to pause. Wolves, it turns out, are not howling versions of dogs. Wolves are very large, very intense, long-legged, large-boned, golden-eyed. Facing that wolf was as much like facing a pet dog as facing a domestic cat is like facing a tiger.

  The wolf stepped toward me, wagging his tail.

  “What does he want?” I asked, stiff beside Zar, working to keep my voice level and firm.

  “To come along,” Zar said, buckling a leather belt on his black jeans.

  “I already told him,” Kage said, not looking around at us. I suspected he didn’t want to meet my eyes and call attention to the fact that he was driving again. “We thought you’d want Zar along because he knows about the glen.”

  “You’re right,” I said, surprised by this consideration, still not taking my eyes from the wolf. “Thank you.”

  “Sod off, Jay,” Kage said and yawned. “She said two. You’re making her uncomfortable.”

 

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