Moonlight Hunters: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 2)

by K. R. Alexander

  I slid the door shut and walked over to sit on Zar’s wheeled stool, giving ten feet of space between us.

  Jed still didn’t look up. He was working on a belt again, stitching a buckle in place with a sewing awl rather than using rivets.

  I sat for a long time, watching his hands, deft and quick on the material, without really seeing him. I thought of a dozen openings. A dozen things I could try. Everything from a calm explanation to begging to threats. That last was the only one I thought might actually work. Way to improve the relationship, though.

  I took a breath, almost started, and again just sat there.

  What difference did it make? He wasn’t going to help.

  If he had something to say about the Beech Pack, he’d have said it to his own family by now. If he had information they needed, he’d have taken it to the elders. Maybe he was a “proper bastard,” but surely he didn’t actually want his family dead. Which could be the result of anyone keeping sensitive information about suspects hidden at this point.

  Minutes passed.

  Instead of speaking, I should go. Maybe apologize for bothering him—although it didn’t seem I had as he went on working.

  More minutes.

  I heard distant sad songs of his kin. I watched his powerful, nimble fingers, gaze drifting again to the carved face and stubble of his strong jaw.

  Still, I remained with nothing to say.

  “You want to meet the Beeches?” Jed addressed his awl in his low, growling voice.

  I blinked, maybe even wobbled on the stool. “Yes, I do. Very much.”

  He went on working. After a minute: “I can take you there.”

  “Okay…”

  “Alone. No one else. Their pack wouldn’t like it.”

  “Fine.”

  Another minute.

  I got the feeling he hadn’t expected me to agree to that. He must know I’d been warned about him.

  “Will they be displeased to see me?” I asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. And probably you also? Then why can’t you just tell me about them?”

  “You can’t understand. No one understands them. If you see them … that’s the best way.”

  “Okay,” I repeated. “How far are they? Could we go in the morning?”

  “Past Southampton. We could, but it wouldn’t do you any good. We’ll have to go at night to meet them.”

  “Tonight?”

  For the first time since I’d arrived, Jed looked up. “Now?”

  “Yes. We don’t have time to waste on this. If there’s any chance they could be killing wolves, we need to know. And, if they’re not, we need to know that too.”

  He scowled back down at his work. “What makes you think your bodyguards will let you take off like that? Think Isaac will be fine with it? Kage won’t mind?”

  I was irritated with the backpedaling, but much angrier about the rest of it.

  “Let me? Is that what you said? You think Isaac or any of the others has the right or authority to ‘let me’ or not let me do anything at all? I don’t know what you’ve been smoking but I do what I want. For good or bad. And what I want is to find who’s murdering South Coast wolves and try to stop it. If you’ll take me to meet these Beech wolves so we can talk with them, then I thank you. Let’s go. I’m not asking permission first.”

  Jed stared at me. I thought, just for a second, he was going to smile. Something I’d never seen him do in sincerity—only in malice.

  “All right on a bike?” he asked after a pause. “I don’t drive four-wheels.”

  “No problem. As long as there’s room. And I’d prefer we both have a helmet. Sounds like a long trip.”

  He nodded. “Grab your bag, whatever you’re wanting to bring. I’ll get you a helmet and pull the bike around.”

  “See you in a minute.” I hurried for the home of Kage and Rebecca’s parents for my backpack. But I didn’t exactly slip away and ride dramatically off.

  Some of the fire gathering had broken up by then, including Kage, who was holding court with other young males beside that same porch.

  I tried ignoring them. But pulling the straps onto my shoulders as I jogged back down the porch steps was a bit of a giveaway.

  “Going somewhere?” Kage asked.

  “Do you need a lift, Cassia?” Jason looked around. Probably he knew that Isaac and Zar where still in the field.

  “I am. And I don’t.” I was still angry at what Jed had said, angry at all of them, so my tone wasn’t exactly polite. “I’m going to find the Beech Pack with Jed.” I walked toward the road.

  “You’re what?” Not only Jason, but all their faces in the porch light appeared shocked.

  Kage scrambled after me. “He’s going to do that?”

  “I’ll get my bike,” Jason said.

  “No,” I snapped. “That wasn’t the deal. He said he’ll take me to meet them alone, and we’d have the best shot at night. So we might as well set out now. We’ll be back … later.”

  “Are you barking mad?” Now Kage also sounded angry. “You can’t go off with Jed like that.”

  “Why does everyone here assume I’m accountable to being ordered around? What I ‘can’ do is try to crack this case.”

  I heard the roar of the motorcycle and looked around.

  Kage rushed to grab my arm. “Cassia—”

  I spun, twisting free with pressure into his thumb, drawing up the force of the magic with my anger, lighting my own hands again.

  Kage stepped back, his eyes flicking to the blue glow in my palms.

  “This could bring answers,” I said. “One more chance. One more clue. We’ve got to follow it up. Jed, and myself, just happen to be the ones to do it.”

  “Cassia?” Maybe he’d heard the commotion, or coming that way regardless, but Zar was at the fence across the road. “What’s going on?”

  I didn’t have to reply because the motorcycle roared up to me like a charging rhino.

  Jed slid the thing to a halt, engine rumbling, and passed over both a helmet and a surprisingly light leather jacket. Not his own, but made for a female, with a slightly too roomy fit.

  In the time it took me to slip the backpack off and jacket on, then climb on behind Jed—who was in helmet, black leather jacket, gloves, and his usual motorcycle boots, which I supposed he’d made himself—we were drawing more of a crowd.

  Kage was shouting, Zar running over.

  “We’re fine, Zar!” I called over the noise and pulled the helmet on. “We’re going to find this pack and we’ll see you soon.”

  “You can’t go out there!” Kage was still yelling. “Those wolves are nutters! Jed! You can’t take—”

  “Okay,” I called to Jed and it was a good thing I was holding on because we launched from the noisy drive like a rocket.

  Chapter 21

  Can’t, can’t, can’t. They needed to think about what they were saying

  I could. He could. No one else was doing anything about this pack. And someone had to.

  I appreciated that Zar and the rest were worried for my wellbeing, either because of the Beeches or because of Jed himself. I did not appreciate them behaving as if they had a right to make choices for me.

  High speed along winding roads by night was exhilarating. Unlike the close atmosphere and swaying motions of the Jeep that had made me motion sick, the motorcycle was made for this. Jed knew the road so well, he didn’t slow to avoid potholes, simply sliding from one side to the other like an eel. The only part I found disconcerting was that Jed’s bike, unlike Isaac’s, had no backrest for a passenger to feel secure. Although I would have been holding on tight at these speeds anyway.

  I’d thought it was too warm a night for the leather but was also glad for this once we hit the open road, running west, with the English Channel in the distance to our left. The wind was sharp, autumn cold, and growing colder as we went.

  It took us about an hour to reach New Forest Nat
ional Park. Had there been daylight traffic, and had Jed been going the speed limit, that would have risen considerably.

  We drove slowly to an empty gravel parking lot for visitors to the park, now dark and closed, feeling even darker with the forest pressing in on three sides.

  Jed silenced the engine and I scrambled stiffly off, my knees sore, newly aware of having been leaned tight against him. I removed the helmet and fished a scrunchy from the front pouch of my bag to pull back smashed hair. Then I left the helmet with his, tugged the backpack again onto my shoulders, over the jacket, and waited.

  I thought I’d be following Jed to a trail, and would have to follow because, even if I’d taken the flashlight from my bag, I couldn’t imagine being able to find my way anywhere out here. But Jed didn’t seem in a rush to go anywhere. He opened a pannier on the side of the bike—which had mercilessly rubbed the back of my leg all the way here—and pulled off his leather jacket. He followed this by dragging his T-shirt over his head, then stuffed both into the compartment.

  “What are you doing?” I hadn’t meant to whisper.

  “Got to change.” He also spoke under his breath, standing on one foot to remove a boot and sock.

  “What? How are you planning to make introductions? I’d be on my own with them.”

  He shook his head, pulling off the other boot, not looking at me. “It’s the only way to find them. Only way they’ll let me approach either. No point in us both going out there in skin. They’ll just hide, even if we did find them.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do? If they’re so shy, will they let me talk to them without you as a go-between? Will they know who you are?”

  “They’ll know.” He pushed socks into the boots, set them on the seat, and put his helmet over the top. “Just let me stay ahead and approach them first. If they want to say hi, they’ll come up to you.”

  And if they don’t? I walked away for what seemed to be a trailhead while he finished undressing.

  As he shoved jeans and underwear in the pannier, judging by sound, I said, “I may have to use a flashlight out here.”

  “Don’t,” Jed snapped. “The forest is not dense. Moon’s nearly full. You’ll be able to see.”

  Easy for him to say. He obviously knew the place. And he’d have better night vision in a minute. Still, if I really needed it, I could call the magic just for a moment here and there for a little light. If our drive in had been any indication, New Forest was vast. I didn’t think humans would see light out here.

  Though I said nothing about this, Jed’s last words before he changed behind me were, “And don’t use magic.”

  What did that leave me with? A black wolf to follow in darkness of an unknown wilderness?

  Again, the sound of the change was unpleasant: shifting skin, popping bones. Then fast panting, as if with pain.

  Jed padded over.

  There was something primevally alarming about him approaching in the dark. Even after I’d been growing used to the sight of wolves in close proximity lately. He was substantially larger than Andrew, who was the smallest in fur, but also larger than Jason: heavier, a bit taller, with massive paws and a chunky head. Seeing him as a great black shadow gliding over the ground in a smooth wolf trot toward me was far more disturbing than I cared to admit.

  He was probably no bigger than an extra massive natural wolf, yet that was still maybe 150 pounds. And you don’t realize how big that makes something on four feet until it’s right on top of you in the dark.

  Jed trotted past without sparing me a sniff. Nor did he slow down when he reached the trail. Moving like the shadow he appeared to be, almost silent once he hit the packed dirt footpath, he jogged off through broken moonlight.

  I hurried to follow. Two minutes on, I realized the impossibility.

  He was totally out of sight. What light there was seemed like hardly enough for an owl to see by. I could either find my flashlight and try to hurry after, or wait for him to come back and slow down. I could not just stumble around in the darkness trying to cling to a path with no one ahead to follow, scraping across branches and stumbling on roots.

  I stood and waited, silent on the trail, arms crossed.

  It took Jed a solid ten minutes to return, searching for me. He stopped on the trail when he spotted me, cocking his head.

  There was a distinctive, What are you doing back here, stupid? air about him.

  “I’m doing my part by not using a flashlight,” I said. “If that’s going to be how it is, I can’t move very fast in here. You either slow down and stay ahead of me so I can see something to follow, or I use a light. Up to you.”

  The silvered tips of his ears vanished. He’d pinned them back. He turned away, head low and sulky, and hobbled along the path like an old cripple, every joint giving him trouble, moving about a yard a minute.

  I longed to give him a quick kick in the tail as I approached. Instead, I inched along behind him, looking around to take in the quiet, cool forest, wishing my very human eyes could adapt just a little more to darkness.

  After a few minutes, Jed tired of his game and we walked normally down the trail, allowing me to keep up.

  In half an hour, he left the path to set out through a sparse wood. We spent another ten minutes weaving about this, seeming to be well away from any human-used part of the park.

  I listened to owl hoots and what I thought was a fox bark. Soft, darting rustles now and then. Once a crash and a deer bounded off through the brush. Jed’s head had whipped around just before the deer startled and he listened, tense. For a second I thought he was going to pursue the animal, but he finally went on.

  We must have spent an hour from the parking lot to the open place at the edge of the forest where Jed took me on what felt more and more like pointless, circular wandering in the dark.

  Then he stopped.

  I stopped. I tried to follow his gaze to the scrubby hill, dotted in trees, seeing no sign of anything different. No habitation and no life besides the sort with roots.

  Jed sat down, watching the hill.

  After a minute, I sat beside him. I wrapped my arms around my knees and waited to see something.

  Gradually, it crossed my mind that we were downwind of the spot. Perhaps Jed really had led us roundabout on purpose?

  Even once we’d settled, it was a long time, myself beginning to nod off, before I finally saw anything.

  First only a few stray motions. Then I realized they’d been there all along and I hadn’t been able to see them. A dart, a pounce, a quick run: there were young wolves playing in the long meadow grass of the hillside.

  Chapter 22

  The moon crept down the bowl of the sky. I was shivering, hands tucked under my arms, while I tried not to move or make a noise—though I had my hoodie in my bag that I longed to put on under the jacket.

  I couldn’t count the wolves from this distance and in the dark. Easily a dozen adults coming and going, sometimes playing with each other, chasing one another around the hill and wood. What threw me, though, left me bewildered, was that there were pups. Not human-looking children referred to as pups. There were a couple of actual puppies, maybe three or four months old in canine terms, bounding around in the long grass, flashing in and out of sight.

  At last, while I bit my tongue to keep my teeth from chattering, Jed stood. He walked forward. Just as I was shifting to get to my feet, he stopped, looked over his shoulder, and showed me his teeth. Then he walked on into the open grass.

  I remained where I was.

  They detected him almost at once, by sight or sound or smell, and vanished. Just like that. One moment the hill was busy with tussling, bouncing, relaxing wolves. The next, flashes of fur in silver light and gone. Nothing but a hillside, a wood, a faint ripple in the grass from a breeze.

  Jed stood alone in the open space, ears pricked to the hill.

  A silence such as I had never heard in my adult life, living in the city, filled the wood around us.

 
; Then Jed tossed back his head and howled. The sound was low on the scale, mournful and somber, rising to a higher pitch like a question, then quickly dying away.

  Once more, he stood still, waiting.

  Something moved on the hillside. A silvery figure detached from the root system of an old tree growing from the hill and trotted forward. It stopped in the grass to regard him, still fifty yards away from the black wolf.

  Jed lowered his head and wagged his tail.

  It moved forward again, tentative, and he walked up to greet it. They touched noses and the smaller, pale wolf lashed its tail like a dog. A female, I assumed by the size beside him. Or else quite young. She nuzzled his face, spun in a tight circle, nudged him again, and sniffed over his ruff and down to his forepaws as if reading a newspaper.

  Jed stepped away.

  The pale wolf dropped to her elbows, rump in the air, tail waving, then sped to the hill.

  By the time she reached it, there were other wolves visible watching them. She bounded to each and whined in the silent wood as she greeted them, then ran back toward Jed. Her message could not have been more plain: Look who’s here!

  Yet how could it be possible these were werewolves at all and not true wolves? Those puppies…

  As she flew back to him, others also approached, but slow, uneasy, tension filling the space.

  Jed did not chase or even greet her return. With all attention on him, he ignored her and paced slowly up to the others as they matched his stiff-legged, cautious motions. He stood, just as stiff, head averted, while a few walked in to sniff him.

  Unlike dogs I’d known, this lot didn’t go for the tail for their smell-mail. They seemed interested in his face and paws, all four feet being carefully inspected by curious noses.

  What had he walked through?

  Then I considered all the information that might be gained about one’s recent activities if one had just had hands and feet. Not only places walked through, but leather working, food, handshakes, doorknobs.

  No … they had to be werewolves.

  Did they raise dogs? Were those Alaskan Malamute puppies in the dark? Accustomed to their owners turning into wolves?