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

by K. R. Alexander

  Everyone waited, silent and tense, darting glances from the elder females to their lunches, until Joseph joined us last.

  Once he had arrived at the table, Elisabeth said what must have been a blessing to Moon for our bounty. I had to assume because it was all in Lucannis. She looked up, addressed the table at large, and Joseph said something as well. There was a murmured reply from most of those around me.

  Isaac said in English, “Thank you all for having us here.”

  So I added, “Thank you.”

  Then Elisabeth finished with, “Benekset Lunae.”

  “Benekset Lunae,” was echoed from every voice, even Jed muttering along, and I said it as well.

  I’d never seen the English wolves pray over a meal. This Vehstner family either followed a different leaning in their faith, though it still seemed to revolve around Moon, or they were simply more devout than these Sable Pack representatives.

  Because of their otherwise separate habits, I’d expected different table manners from our hosts. They’d gone through the trouble to set up the table, make sauce, churn butter, and roast meat overnight. They even blessed their meal.

  No. It turned out the only difference was they ate cheerfully rather than growling.

  How to even describe the gulping, stuffing intensity of lunch? Suffice it to say, I had a burger-sized helping of meat and equivalent to one baked potato worth of vegetables on my plate with that sauce. I had tucked away no more than a few inches of this meal when the last plate around me was empty and they were all glancing at one another’s dishes to see if there was anything left.

  I didn’t understand how they physically did it. And I was sitting right there. Like watching a pie eating contest on fast forward.

  My hopes that mealtime would lead to conversation were dashed. Once they’d eaten, they exchanged words in German which I suspected were about the next chores to be done, then all got to their feet.

  I finished lunch while the sons cleared away dishes, then hurried to take my own plate to the kitchen.

  They intercepted me and one of them—both were young, huge, brown-haired, blue-eyed, and not easy to tell apart—insisted in rough English that they did the washing up and not to worry about a thing: that I should enjoy myself while I was here. Also, they would be happy to show me around the farm or mountain trails. As one spoke, the other stepped up, arms full of plates, beaming and nodding.

  I was just starting with my thanks, exhausted, when Kage, Zar, and Jed moved in front of the pair, their backs to me—for once all unified. It was as subtle as a rabid Rottweiler and I longed to turn all three into garden snails. This was, however, beyond my powers.

  Raphael and Tobias never lost their smiles, but went on about their business, collecting dishes and heading inside, talking to each other in German.

  Even angry at them—since I was no one’s property—I was also overwhelmed with attention at the moment and felt a bit grateful that I didn’t have to look forward to flirting with the brothers to be a polite guest.

  I didn’t say anything to the three. Like Raphael and Tobias, I only walked away.

  Isaac was briefing Andrew and Jason on his plan, showing Joseph the map on his phone and asking his feedback about the drive and the town they were looking for outside of Munich.

  I joined them, also viewing the map and distance, then wishing them luck when all were making ready.

  I walked around to the bikes with them, asking Isaac if he was sure I shouldn’t come along, conflicted about this myself.

  Jason tried to say goodbye to Kage but the latter was experiencing a coughing fit—having already been sneezing that morning when he’d come face-to-face with the honeysuckle running up the corner of the guesthouse. Now he hacked and gagged until his eyes watered and he waved Jason away. He yanked open the front door and I heard him switch on the kitchen tap in the little house to drink, or dunk his face.

  Jason did not seem perturbed. He started toward his bike where Isaac and Andrew were pulling on helmets.

  “Does he have kennel cough?” I asked.

  Jason grinned. “He’s allergic. He doesn’t like to talk about it. Like being right-handed. He’s sensitive.” The reason Kage’s nose wasn’t so great?

  “Poor baby.”

  “Yeah.” Jason chuckled. “Moon-favored, we say. An ironic expression for someone dealt a poor hand. Kage has never had a good immune system. Like I’ve said, we’re usually healthier than worms—sorry, I mean—”

  “That’s okay. You can say worms around me.”

  “We just don’t have many communicable diseases like humans do. There’s not much we can get from them and not much we can give to them. Those mundane myths about being ‘infected’ by wolf bites are nonsense. We can’t transmit what you might call lycanthropy any more than you can transmit being human.”

  “No STDs, darling,” Andrew said, watching us walk up as he straddled his bike, helmet in his hand. His arm seemed perfectly fine. “Since you’re wondering.”

  “I wasn’t, but good for you,” I said. Back to Jason. “You must catch some things? Canines and humans can both get … pneumonia, for example? Diabetes, coughs and colds, cancers?”

  Jason shrugged as he fished for his keys in his pockets, then looked around at Andrew, who held them out to him. Jason took the keys and answered me without missing a beat. “It’s rare. Even colds. I’ve never heard of a diabetic wolf. That’s not entirely true about STDs, but certainly nothing serious.” As he spoke, he was looking for his helmet, which he found on the back of Andrew’s seat.

  “Are you all right here?” Isaac asked me, also on his bike.

  “Great. I want to see the farm, go for a walk … go to bed early.” I smiled ruefully. “I’m afraid I need it.”

  “Will you be careful? If you want to spend time alone … stay close?”

  This gave me pause. It hadn’t crossed my mind that we needed to worry for our safety out here. Once he said that, though, I felt a little shiver.

  “We’re fine here,” I said. “But we should all be careful. If I walk far I’ll bring company. See you soon. Text if you need to. I’ll get on their WiFi.”

  Isaac and Andrew were the only wolves in the group who even owned smartphones. Zar had told me Jed had never used any sort of phone in his life.

  Isaac nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

  That gentle smile inside the helmet. I was glad it was on, making the point of my wanting to walk forward and kiss him goodbye moot—even without the audience.

  Chapter 30

  Once the three of them had roared off, I was ready for my farm tour but better look around alone. Everyone was busy working. Maybe I could lend a hand somewhere and have a natural conversation rather than butting in and asking for a free guide.

  Before even being able to search for such a chance to make myself useful, however, Zar was at my heels like a wayward puppy.

  “Would you care for a walk, Cassia? Or a lift into the village? Or a hike up to the falls? The setting is inspired. Moon kissed those peaks and they reach up to her perfection each night, blessed to feel another embrace at each moonrise.” He looked off toward those mountains as we walked around back.

  A much smaller mound caught my eye as I was looking for work to be done.

  “Zar? Why was your brother digging this morning?”

  “What?” Like he couldn’t figure out who I was talking about, blinking while I headed for the dug up pile and trench among the shrubs beyond the guesthouse patio.

  “Jed?” I prompted. “Digging? Are there moles?”

  “Oh … no.”

  I peered down at the hole, seeing nothing but dirt.

  “He just likes to.”

  “He what?”

  Zar shrugged. “Really. That’s what he likes. He’s always liked to dig. But he got a little obsessive about it after he was off with the Beech Pack for several months. We’d all decided he was never coming back. Then he showed up one day in fur. He didn’t say a word ab
out it except he’d been with them and now he wasn’t. Maybe he picked up some habits from them. Hiding stuff in particular. I don’t know why. Any of us could sniff out a bone he’d buried. But he’d do it anyway. He still likes to dig. Do you ever dig? It feels meditative when you really get into it. You could trance that way for your work.”

  I studied him: hopeful smile, eager, sweet, thinking he’d hit on a good idea.

  “I’ll … try it sometime, Zar. Thank you. Would you help me fill these in, please? I’ll go do the one by the bee path.”

  Later, we did drive into town. I couldn’t pass up the travel chance. I loved walking through the dot of Flintsbach and much larger Bavarian town of Brannenburg, where we visited the Bauernhof Landesgrenze farm store and met the two grown daughters who were running the place.

  Even this simple trip was complicated, however. Naturally, Kage and Jed objected to my going off with Zar. Much worse, though, I objected to leaving those two behind in this place with a bunch of chickens running around and no supervision.

  Getting the four of us to the village was no small task since neither Kage nor myself had a vehicle. And neither of the brothers would share with Kage. This left me wheedling Jed to allow Zar to ride with him and Zar to let Kage drive his bike. Meaning Zar not only gave up his bike, but gave it up for me to share it with another male.

  This injustice, and Zar’s granting my request, was not lost on me. Just as I knew they were all keeping score of real or perceived slights between each other, I could keep score also.

  We spent a couple of hours wandering Brannenburg, going in shops and specialty groceries which fascinated me—like a daily farmer’s market. This was plenty of time to see the whole town, as it turned out. I found myself also grateful to Kage here.

  Kage really could communicate with some basics in German, though he struggled to understand the southern accent. Few locals seemed to speak more than passing English phrases.

  I thought of a souvenir for Melanie, then had to remind myself that she didn’t even know where I was.

  Instead, I tried to buy us all ice cream—but Zar insisted it was on him—at a dedicated ice cream parlor the like of which I had never seen. Sprawling and with a menu larger than many full restaurants in the States.

  I had an espresso float in a tall glass like a 1950s’ soda fountain only modernized in its size. And decided I’d be skipping any more than a nibble of dinner at the caloric intake I had going. Still, it was worth it.

  They had various vanilla, caramel, and fruit flavors like black currant and strawberry in cones or sundaes. Even Jed ate with us at the outside table on the sidewalk in the now roasting day. He’d reverted to his usual sullen, silent self in skin—unless he had an insult for either his cousin or his brother to snarl out.

  Then back to the farm, seeing more of the beautiful farmland and ancient architecture in the shadow of these regal mountains. I noticed the little cemetery just outside Flintsbach and thought of Max. Also of the inspired church architecture out here. Even in this tiniest town. There were statues, crucifixes, and carvings everywhere one looked to solidify the region’s Catholic heritage. The Virgin Mary, or her son on the cross, seemed to look down on us from every possible vantage, from front doors to garden decorations to an isolated shadow box between two trees on a roadside.

  Late in the afternoon, we returned to the farm. I checked my phone with the internet connection before inviting Zar along to find one of the Vehstner family and see if we could learn more about the place.

  The Vehstner brothers were bailing hay in a field, Elisabeth was indoors doing clerical work or bookkeeping, but we found Joseph fixing a fence around the goat pens.

  They had at least twenty adult goats, easily ten more kids running around. The little animals were exceedingly friendly and mobbed the fence when I walked up, sniffing, standing on the wire and post, sticking their necks over.

  Zar’s gaze darted after the bounding kids and he fell behind before reaching the fence, turning his head completely away as if he’d been distracted watching barn swallows and was perhaps offended by the smell of the goats. I thought this virtuous of him: spotting his own weaknesses and separating himself from a bad situation before it became one.

  I explained to Joseph we were taking a look around their beautiful farm and he eagerly dropped his wire stretcher, leaned a sheet of plywood inside the fence to block it, and came to show us around.

  I protested he didn’t need to put himself out, then asked if there was some way we could make ourselves useful—and Kage and Jed for that matter. I said we didn’t mean to interrupt him and only wanted to see the place.

  Joseph talked to his goats, thundered a hello to Zar, asked if we’d made it into the farm store in town, and insisted he wanted to show us around.

  Like dogs, the goats clambered to be closer to him as they moved along the fence.

  “How do you raise livestock?” I asked my most burning question. “They’re not nervous about your scent?”

  “We share the raising of every beast born here with its dam,” he told me proudly. “They are raised on mother’s milk and our bottles. They learn to suck milk off our fingers as soon as they nurse. Every one. Even the litters of piglets, or we would never be able to handle them. The only creatures we raise that we do not hand-feed are the dogs and cats—the predators. It is enough for them to be around us from an early age and know our scents. Human guests do puzzle them.”

  “You even have cats?”

  “Barn cats. They have water, shelter, we like to name them and know who they are, and we give them a bit of food when they need it, especially in winter, see to their veterinary care and have most of them castrated. We only let the best mousers breed. Otherwise, the cats see to their own affairs and do their work.”

  Joseph walked us around the outbuildings, including a slaughterhouse, machinery, garden and greenhouses, grazing pastures, crops, and a pond with dozens of ducks in residence.

  He explained that everything they did was self-contained: meat and produce, eggs and butter, they even made a mild mead from their own honey bees. Wolves apparently didn’t have systems suited to handling alcohol. This gentle brew of Elisabeth’s allowed for a rich flavor and warmth of alcohol without the toxicity found in commercially made beer or wine.

  They raised cattle—the largest bovines I’d ever seen, with red and white coats and girths like SUVs—llamas and a few sheep for wool, an equally small number of pigs, plus scores of chickens, ducks, and bees. One of the two Great Pyrenees followed him about as he walked.

  Their meat, vegetables, wool, eggs, and dairy products were available in their store. But they also shipped all around Europe, having created a thriving little business built on their organic farming practices, quality of products, and sustainable model. They were particularly famed for their beef and honey, it seemed. Although regionally for their llama wool and goat’s milk as well.

  “We sell some livestock now and again,” he added with a sigh as we looked out over the duckpond in golden sun of late afternoon. “It is good money, and there are certain people I trust. But a shame also. I dislike selling a living creature to another living creature. Anyway, we would much rather do our own slaughtering and sell the meat in our own store and through local butchers. If you sell off a voiceless soul, you never know what will happen to her. And, I mean you no offense, miss, but humans are a cruel, cruel race. The worst there is. Spend a minute behind factory farming and it is enough to turn one against the whole species. I know you are not all like that,” he added, smiling down at me. “We are only selective here about selling.”

  He went on to say they did not have the space for a wheat crop, nor a mill, and there were certain things they bought from other local sources, such as flour, yeast, salt, and tea. But the majority of what they ate and, indeed, what they needed at all, with solar power and making wool clothes, they generated themselves.

  He also told about the hunting they did and the holiday home they ran
for part of the year with the guesthouse.

  I could have listened to him all evening and, it seemed, he could have talked for as long. But I didn’t want to take up so much of his time and soon told him we were going up the trail to see their path into the mountains before dinner.

  "Anything we can do to help with the meal?"

  He waved this off with a laugh as if I’d asked if we could build them a new house, told us we’d eat just before sunset, and Zar and I moved on for our walk.

  Going past the chicken yard, Zar also averted his face to gaze off at the greenhouses.

  I’d thought the family had one coop, but this was only for their personal hens for eggs near the house. The real chicken yard was beyond the barn and hosted perhaps a hundred of the clucking, pecking, feathered morsels. Zar studied his fingernails when the greenhouses lost interest, asking me about my breakfast since I’d been praising Joseph’s honey and goat cheese and his mate’s homemade rolls.

  We discussed food all the way down the footpath, past the many beehives, and to the edge of the wood beyond pasture land.

  Neither Kage nor Jed tried to join us, having lost interest in our activities once I’d gone to seek out Joseph. It made me uneasy leaving those two unsupervised but I found I was enjoying the moment anyway.

  Chapter 31

  Zar and I crossed a stile at the end of the pasture and joined a public trail that was smooth with use. To the right, this path led along the foot of the mountains, west. To the left, it turned uphill, east and south, revealing an inviting climb toward waterfalls and views.

  We started up this. Myself basking in the hot but clean air, the forest, the newness of the place. Zar just watching me, smiling vaguely.

  “Stop it,” I said at last, facing him.

  Zar’s eyebrows jumped. He took a tentative step back.

  “I’m sorry. You can’t just stare at me like that all the time. It’s creepy.”

  He dropped his gaze to his own boots. “Sorry, Cassia. I was working on a song.”