Hunter's Moon

by Rose Marie Wolf

A knowing grin spread over Cheyenne’s face and Rose felt heat rush into her face.

  “I bet you do,” she said in a sly tone. Cheyenne must’ve seen the mortification in her face because she laughed and added, “We all know it, Rose, and it’s fine.”

  Even with her comforting words, Rose's blush did not go away quickly.

  Cheyenne turned her gaze back to the field. Everyone was gathered, waiting for them. “We better go. I think the kids are anxious,” Cheyenne said, pulling on her arm. “I have to admit, I am too. I’m getting better at this shifting thing.”

  “I’m glad,” Rose answered absently. She couldn’t help but feel anxious too, but it was for another reason entirely.

  * * *

  They stood in a semi-circle on top the hill, facing east where the full moon rose. Everything was immersed in a silver glow. They were silent, breathing in the scents of the night and the open space. The moon had nothing to do with shifting, but it was beautiful and reverent and seemed right.

  It was time.

  No one needed any prompting. They began to undress, all of them, without much shame. Aurora, still young, still innocent, wore a heavy blush as she hesitantly undressed.

  They kicked their garments aside and Glen stepped forward. His naked muscles rippled in the silver glow. Without the alpha male to lead the pack in their run, he took point. Rose reveled in the chill, her hot skin finally dotted with goose bumps. Waiting naked and vulnerable was the worst part. She tingled with expectancy. She couldn’t wait.

  The males were edgy, bouncing from one foot to the other as they waited for the signal to begin the change. It was like an addiction, a powerful drug that overtook their senses. It was almost like sex, an orgasmic feeling of pleasure as the body submitted to the consciousness of the wild creature that lived within. It was an adrenaline rush. There was nothing else like it.

  It began when Glen leaned forward, crouching to touch the cold earth beneath his bare feet. He groaned as the shift began. Bones cracked and popped. Fur sprouted first along his spine, then spread to his sides and stomach, covering every inch of his exposed flesh with black hair.

  The scent of blood was thick. The bones of his face snapped, grew longer and his teeth became long canines. His groans became growls and he gave in to the shift.

  The others joined in and Rose soon followed. All of her senses flooded with the delicious shiver of pain. She curved her spine, not fighting it, allowing it to happen. She felt her bones grow stronger, longer. She became a wolf. She became free.

  When the pain passed and she was once more aware of her surroundings, she began to run. She didn’t wait for her pack mates to join her. She loped across the field, relishing the feel of the wind in her fur, the moist earth under her paws. The rings on her necklace—now a collar—jingled together as she ran.

  She was aware that another wolf joined her. The black wolf at her side quickly outran her and headed the pack once more. The younger wolves, the gray male and female that were Rebel and Aurora, and the red wolf that was Slater, hurried by her on her left. The tawny Cheyenne brought up the rear.

  They ran toward the horizon and Rose felt, for the first time in months, truly free of all her anxieties and worries. Jason, though her mate, was a pale memory to the elation she felt now. She had no thoughts, no worry, no fears.

  There was nothing but the night.

  Chapter Four

  The search was getting him nowhere. Day and night he sat at this machine and typed, trying to find a hint of something, anything to bring him closer to the ones he sought. He sneered slightly and stood. He needed a break.

  His legs still gave him trouble and he limped to the bathroom. The dingy and dirty little room wasn’t much bigger than a cubicle. Simon Conner, never having liked closed in places, left the door open as he urinated. Every move pained him and it was no wonder.

  Having nearly every bone broken in your body will give you a hell of an arthritis problem, someone once told him. He believed it. Even with his full-blood healing, it had taken months, years to fully recuperate from the fall. He was lucky to even be alive.

  I hate him every day more and more for that, he thought bitterly as he zipped his jeans and turned to the sink. A rust stain made red trails the color of dried blood along the faucet in the basin. He turned the knob without looking at it and rinsed his hands. He splashed the cold water on his face. He didn’t need to be reminded of blood, not now.

  For a long moment, Simon stared at his reflection in the cracked, dirty mirror. He had grown thin over the past three years. His skin was paler from lack of sun exposure and there were dark bags under his eyes. The lacerations and bruises had healed quickly. He hadn’t a single scar, but he still looked like shit. Quickly, he turned away from his reflection.

  If I ever find you, Jason Barnett, Simon vowed for the millionth time, I will kill you.

  He winced in pain as he walked back to the computer. Every step was agony. The bones had not healed right and he had to break and reset some of them himself. It had almost killed him. But he was still alive. He was still here.

  He resumed his seat at the computer and flipped the switch to turn the monitor back on before lighting a fresh cigarette. His obsession with Jason Barnett had taken over the last few years of his life. He was determined to find him and get his revenge.

  No one knocks me out a window and leaves me for dead, especially not a damned half-blood.

  But maybe there was something to it. Simon had thought about it much over his years of convalescing. He had little else to do, cooped up in this piss-ass trailer, day in and day out. Thinking and plotting became his favorite pastimes.

  How had he been able to do it? It still stumped him. The odds had been in Simon’s favor. He had Jason in his grip. He only needed to finish him off. It was so simple.

  It was her, he had surmised, that bitch. She distracted me. She let him do this to me. His blood still ran heated when he thought of her. His obsession with Rose nearly drove him to madness.

  But she was no longer his main passion. He still desired her, yes, to find Rose and finally, finally have her…

  But first, he had to find out where he was, then, he had to plan the hunt.

  As the screen finally loaded, Simon was reenergized with enough rage to resume his search. So far, the results were nil Jason Barnett did not exist, just as he did not exist. It frustrated him to no end.

  As Simon began to type, the front door of the trailer opened. He froze and spun, quickly grabbing the loaded pistol from the desk.

  “Put that damn thing down,” she said.

  There had once been a time when the very sound of her voice grated on his nerves. Now, he welcomed it, however reluctantly.

  Laden with grocery bags, her long auburn hair falling across her face, Alana Moore entered the small trailer. Simon lowered the gun and breathed a deep sigh that sounded relieved.

  “I thought I told you to knock,” he said gruffly. He made no move to get up to help her.

  “I’m not knocking on my own fucking door,” she retorted, as she slammed the bags on the kitchen counter and began unloading them. “I live here too, you know.”

  “Don't remind me.” Simon took a long drag from his cigarette. “Did you get my smokes?”

  She rolled her eyes and tossed the carton to him. “I hope you choke on the damn things.”

  Simon only chuckled in response as he caught them. “And here I thought you loved me.”

  “Fuck you,” she said irritably. “Find anything?” She stretched her arms above her head as she put things away. Though she was tall and lithe, the shelf was barely in her reach. She was just as intrigued as he was about finding Jason. Simon knew she wanted to find Rose, and after the bitch had broken her nose, she was determined to return the favor.

  “What do you think?” He sounded just as irritable as she. “There’s nothing here. There was nothing the day before, and there will be nothing tomorrow. Just a bunch of bullshit.”

  Ala
na sighed and crossed the floor to him, a newspaper in her hand. She leaned gently against his back, her soft, fragrant hair falling across his shoulder. Her scent was warm, smelling faintly of her feminine odor and the tiny bit of the changed-blood were-scent she carried. He gripped Alana’s hand and squeezed it.

  “We’ll find them,” she said softly into his ear, “I got a lead today at the office.”

  “What lead?” Intrigued, Simon sat up. Alana’s thick lips spread into a wide smirk.

  “I just found out that a certain full-blood was made head of the Paranormal Research and Development Institute,” she said triumphantly.

  “Rose?” Simon asked, hopefully.

  Alana’s body went rigid when he said her name and she replied icily, “No, not her. The cousin.” She thrust the newspaper clipping under his nose. He took it, holding it back to focus on the tiny black print.

  “‘Glen Cole Made Head of PRDI’,” he read aloud, “‘New changes to be made in security and data-basing.’” He narrowed his eyes as he read over it again silently. When he had finished, he began a low chuckle. “I thought the PRDI went under. This could prove useful.”

  “I thought you would like it.” Alana smiled and planted a kiss on his temple. “It doesn’t mention their names, but I’m sure they’ll be involved.”

  “They’ll have to be.” Simon trailed off as he began to think on it more.

  Alana eased herself into his lap and draped her arms around his neck. She nuzzled against him, moaning throatily. “I think this could be our lucky break.”

  “I hope you’re right,” he said as he absently stroked her arm. “I want to see him dead.”

  “I know you do and I don’t blame you.” He felt her shudder in his arms. She shifted her bottom against him. “After I came to and found you, I wanted to go after them myself, but they were already gone. You needed me more.”

  Her voice had turned husky and he could smell the strong, sudden scent of her arousal. Despite trying to think heavily on his plan, he felt himself grow hard beneath her body. She must’ve felt it because she leaned into him and breathed against his ear.

  “Just like you need me now,” she said in her most seductive voice. “It’s a full moon tonight. Let’s go out.”

  “No.” Simon wasn’t really in the mood despite his raging hard-on. He pushed her out of his lap rather roughly. “I need to think.”

  She stood up and for a brief moment he saw the yellow flash in her green eyes. The tent in his jeans was an obvious sign of his desire, but he didn’t want to be with her, not now anyway. He had to think on this all very seriously. This might be their only chance, and if it was, they would have to act quickly.

  “Leave me alone,” he added and turned his attention back to the computer. Alana snorted, a signal that Simon knew meant she was angry. He ignored her. She would get over it. She always did.

  “You’re an asshole,” she growled at him.

  He heard her leave the room, her footfalls loud as she stormed to the bedroom. She slammed the door and he was left with blessed silence. Her scent lingered, but he fought to ignore it.

  He pulled up the screen he had been trying to work with earlier and renewed his search. Only this time, instead of “Jason Barnett” as his key search, he typed in “PRDI”. Results flooded the screen.

  Simon smirked at himself as it all began to come together.

  * * *

  The movie was over, the television screen blue and silent. The window was open and a faint, chilled breeze rustled the silky curtains back. It was comforting against their hot, flushed skin.

  Davis drew his hand along her side, slipping it under her shirt. His hands were hot against her skin and Claire moaned softly as she arched her back and pressed into his body. He began to kiss her, pulling her closer to him. Her hands trailed down his back, feeling his muscles through the thin cotton of his shirt.

  He slipped his hand beneath her bra and Claire moaned as her nipple hardened against his palm. His knee pressed against her crotch and Claire sighed with want, desire.

  Davis’s kisses began to trail down her neck. He squeezed her breast and pressed his body against the length of hers.

  “What’s gotten into you tonight?” she whispered against his ear. She touched the soft down of hair on his chest, curling her fingertips in it.

  “It’s the moon,” he murmured.

  “I thought the moon had nothing to do with it,” she managed to say, amid a moan.

  “It doesn't, not really, but it sets the mood.” He began to kiss her mouth again, hotly searching hers. Claire moaned again and lifted her hips to his lower body.

  Things were just beginning to progress to more than just petting when laughing voices startled them. The front door opened, the light flickered on and Davis and Claire were instantly apart.

  Claire hurried to button her shirt and smooth her hair. Davis’s face turned beet red with embarrassment. He grabbed a cushion from the couch and held it over the obvious bulge in his jeans.

  Rose paused in the doorway, fully dressed now, her face flush from the exertion of the run. Glen entered close behind her. When he saw what was going on, his face lit up with a grin. The others milled about on the porch, their voices rising and falling as they talked excitedly.

  “Sorry,” Claire immediately apologized. She stood up, pulling down her wrinkled blouse. She felt her face grow hot with a blush. Quickly, she looked away.

  Rose moved out of the doorway. Her keen sense of smell caught the scent of arousal and sex immediately. In her already predisposed condition, it nearly maddened her. She took a deep breath, suddenly longing for Jason to be there. But he wasn’t and it pissed her off.

  Aurora entered behind her. “Rose, I was wondering if you—oh.” She stopped when she saw the scene before her. Claire quickly slipped on her shoes. Davis awkwardly stood, still holding the cushion.

  “Thanks, guys,” he said, with a hint of annoyance in his voice, but he chuckled and ran a hand through his hair. Rose watched him, her arms crossing over her chest.

  Glen grinned broadly. “Hey, don’t mention it.”

  “Um, are we going to go soon?” Claire asked. Glen gave a faint shake of his head.

  “No, I’m staying. Cheyenne can give you a ride.”

  “Something wrong?” Davis asked. He seemed anxious to change the subject.

  “No,” Rose said immediately, angrily. She edged toward the couch, picking up a fallen blanket and draping it across the back of the couch.

  “I’m just tired,” Glen said, “I think the drive home would be horrible.”

  “So, we’ll crash at Cheyenne’s then?” Claire asked.

  “Sure,” Cheyenne answered from the doorway. “I’m ready to leave when you are.” She turned back to finish her conversation with Slater.

  “Rose,” Aurora tried again. “Do you think you could email me some critiquing tips?”

  “Yeah,” Rose answered, absently. She walked to the entertainment center and switched off the television and DVD player. It gave her something to do, something to distract her.

  “I read your latest article—”

  “It wasn’t that good.” Rose’s elated feeling from earlier had disappeared. At the thought of Jason, she became worried once again, anxious. “It’s hard to write human interest pieces when you’re not entirely human yourself.”

  “I thought you did all right,” Aurora answered. “That’s why I thought you could help me.” She sounded hurt.

  “And I will, Aurora, just not tonight. I have a lot of shit to do. I’m tired. Yeah, I’ll email it.” The room became silent and the tension grew uncomfortable. Aurora blinked several times and threw a glance toward Glen. He looked severe and shook his head. Rose refrained from sighing. She didn't like it when she was bitchy to her packmates, but she couldn't help it.

  “Okay. We’re going to go, now,” Aurora said. “I’ll call you when we get back to the dorms.”

  “Yeah.” Rose tried to smile, but it
faltered.

  “See you.” Aurora shifted her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. When Rose said nothing more, Aurora left the room.

  Following her example, Claire gathered her things, muttered a quick, embarrassed goodbye and was out the door. Davis lingered, watching Rose carefully.

  “I’ll see you back at the PRDI on Monday,” he said, turning to Glen.

  Glen nodded in approval. “Yeah, I’ll see you.”

  Davis grabbed his jacket and left, joining Claire, Cheyenne and the others on the porch. Rose listened to the roar of the engines as one by one they started and the others left.

  “Looks like I did it again,” she said with a sigh. She hurried into the kitchen and began to put the dirty dishes from their meal into the sink.

  Glen watched her from the doorway. “Did what?”

  “Scared them away, like always.”

  “That’s bullshit. You never do that.”

  “Well it must be something,” she fumed, slamming plates into the sink. The china clinked loudly together. She was surprised she hadn't broken them. “Maybe I’m just being a bitch.”

  “Maybe,” Glen answered. He went silent a moment, thinking on something. “You need to calm down. You were doing so well when we were out there, running—”

  “Yes, I was, but I was free, Glen.” She turned to him. Her face was wet with tears. He hadn’t known she had been crying. “I was the wolf. When I’m the wolf, I’m completely different. I was free. I hadn’t a worry. But when I came back to myself, the wolf was gone and I was human again. Human and alone.”

  Rose knew she was close to breaking down. She could feel it welling up inside of her. Glen went to her but she held up a hand to stop him. She wasn't there yet.

  “Maybe I am just being hormonal.” She sniffed. “Maybe it’s just this heat and maybe it’s Jason. Maybe it’s all that. I don’t know.”

  “Rose,” he tried again, “just relax. Breathe.”

  She stared at him for a long moment, until her eyes burned and she had to look away. She grabbed a dish towel from the counter and dried her face and eyes. “I can’t relax, Glen. It’s tearing me up. I can’t take it.”