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

by K. R. Alexander

  “You were what?”

  His face remained downturned while we walked on.

  “A song in English. We need songs for you. I already have melodies in mind for a few. Walking with you is just the time for words to come to me. But it’s left me distracted. I’m sorry. I wish I had my crwth here. I’d share melodies with you.”

  “You shouldn’t be writing me songs, Zar. You know I’m not even going to be here for…” I sighed. “And I didn’t mean for you to look at the ground, either. Just … mind the staring.”

  He looked at me. “Do you have a particular power animal? Or certain spirit animal guides?”

  I frowned as we walked together through evening shade of the forest trail.

  A hiking couple passed us coming down the slope, offering greetings in German—to which we smiled and nodded.

  “That’s an odd question,” I told Zar at last. “Why?”

  “Only thinking of you and lyrics.” Sweet, adorable smile, stepping closer to me, gently taking my hand.

  My particular spirit animal was a red-eyed tree frog, but she was personal: a relationship I’d never discussed with anyone. Even Nana had known only that I had this spiritual frog companion, not anything about her.

  “What guides or totems do you think of for me?” I asked. “You’re the songwriter.”

  “Mostly birds—elegant strength of a swan, the swallow’s quick grace, the falcon’s focus and meticulousness. But you have the horse’s free spirit and need for space combined with the wolf’s love of family and companionship.”

  I watched him as he talked and we climbed. When had Zar even decided on those points about me? We hadn’t known each other long. And I wasn’t one to wear my heart, and life, on my sleeve. Quite the opposite, in fact. Rather tough to get to know. So I’d thought.

  Yet I’d seen falcons, horses, and wolves on shamanic journeys with Nana and, I had to admit, some of those things he was saying about me sounded dead right. Not the elegant strength, but the need for my own space and path coupled with loving to be part of a group, a family, working together—another paradox. If he’d only said something about frogs I seriously would have been creeped out.

  “You should decide about your own songs,” I repeated. “But thank you for the compliments. Zar? None of this looked so far away from the farm. We’d better turn back. They’ll be getting dinner out soon. The sun’s nearly behind the mountains. And the others should be there by now. I want to know what they’ve learned.”

  As we turned back, darting, chirping song birds flitted across our trail, ahead of us, then away into the trees, spinning through branches.

  Zar smiled after them and I glanced at him.

  “I think they heard you.”

  He shook his head. “They heard your voice and thought it was one of their own songs.”

  I laughed. And blushed. “Come on.”

  Back at the stile, I couldn’t rush. I leaned on the fence, gazing over the long grass, some of it three and four feet, part of the hayfields, to look back at the picturesque farm.

  Zar, close at my side, touched my waist with his fingers only, his nose in my hair. He inhaled slowly.

  “I could live forever in a place like this,” I said. “I’ve been domesticated since I moved to Portland for school. But I grew up in a tiny town, then a high desert wilderness. Maybe I’ll always be a country girl at heart. I see a place like this and I wonder what I’m doing.”

  “A mustang.” He was not looking at the view, his head bowed at my shoulder. He kissed my ear. “Aren’t you a teacher? Couldn’t you work in a small town as easily as a city?”

  I loved his touch and his manners—especially after sharing the afternoon with Kage and Jed. But still the problems: my limited time, and having already chosen Isaac in my mind—which I needed to confess to Zar. Plus, Zar’s being too polite.

  How could I explain to him that I wasn’t as breakable as he seemed to think without hurting his feelings? Then again, it wasn’t my place to explain anything only to then tell him I wasn’t interested.

  “I am, or I’m on my way to be. I love that too.” I shook my head and sighed. “I’m daydreaming. That’s all. I enjoy Portland. And I’ve got a great job about to start in the best school system I could have hoped for. Sorry. A place like this gets me sentimental.”

  He kissed my ear again. “I love to hear you talk. You’re wise.”

  “Wise?” I snorted. “What did I say that was wise?”

  “Daydreaming is wise.”

  Which made me think of birthdays again.

  “Zar? What’s your—?” But I turned as I spoke and he kissed my lips.

  I should have detached because … those previously given reasons. So many reasons.

  All I’d have needed to say was Isaac’s name. Maybe said I was sorry in case that wasn’t enough implied.

  But I thought of Zar’s tact over chickens and goats, his giving Kage his bike for myself to share with Kage, and I thought, even more, of how much I wanted him to be kissing me and how much I wanted to be holding on, not pulling away. Even if I’d had no debts to pay at all.

  Lifting my hands to his face, I found his jaw still delightfully smooth after he’d shaved that morning. I pushed my fingers into the wavy black hair. I’d never dated a guy with long hair. Never thought I’d like it. But I hadn’t guessed I’d like an intellectual werewolf songwriter with a straight razor and an adorable smile either.

  I had to say something. This wasn’t fair to him. Or to Isaac. Or to me.

  Zar’s hands caressed my face, my neck.

  I met his tongue with mine and he stepped in closer.

  I should have been thinking of Isaac. Instead, I thought of watching Zar that morning with nothing on but a towel. I should have been thinking of disengaging. Instead, I thought of wanting to see that body up close, touch him while he touched me.

  Breathless, I pulled away. “We should go back.”

  Zar let me go, trailing a hand down my arm, his pupils dilated.

  Damn him. Disengaging from Zar was so easy. Kage was too much. But Zar was not enough. If he would just hold me there against the fence: be a little more … rude.

  But damn me also. Zar was right. I was wrong. Let go. Move on.

  Still, I kissed him again before I climbed the stile.

  On the other side, he took my hand and managed to kiss my neck as we walked.

  I almost laughed at the giddy sensation of it. “Thank you for today.” Feeble effort to speak normally. “For being gracious about letting us use your bike. I know you don’t like Kage and that was kind of you.”

  Zar seemed to glow with the praise, pressing my hand. “If I can ever do anything for you, you need only ask.”

  His head snapped up.

  A minute later, as we walked, I heard the sound of the bikes approaching as well. Hay cutting had stopped. The farm was quiet besides this new drone that would soon terminate in the front lot.

  “They must be preparing for dinner.” I tugged his hand as I walked faster, but Zar slowed, holding on.

  He smiled. “Ever looked up through grass like this?” It was almost chest-high to our right.

  “Looked up…?”

  “Come on.” Zar veered into the grass, cutting a swath through it while it rippled and rolled like waves.

  Intrigued by his taking the lead, my heart beating too fast, I let him pull me into the field—even as I thought of spiders. What else did they have here? Ticks?

  He flopped down, letting go my hand so as not to yank me over, landing on his back and looking up at me, grinning.

  “Moon touched Sun, who kissed Earth, who grew grass, who reached for Sun and Moon in praise and thanks,” Zar said happily. “If you don’t believe me, look for yourself.”

  I gazed around at the sunlit grass in every direction. It rippled. Butterflies and bees drifted past. Evening birds called. The engines grew loud, then stopped.

  “Not up there.” He reached for my knees, pulling me
in. “Look—”

  “There are spiders.”

  “What?”

  “The field is full of spiders.”

  “You just said you loved the country.”

  “Without spiders.”

  “It’s beautiful, Cassia. Look. How can you be afraid of spiders? You’re not afraid of murderers or vampires or wolves.”

  I shrugged. “Those things aren’t scary compared to spiders.”

  Zar laughed.

  “Don’t let a spider get on me,” I said.

  “I promise.”

  I lay down cautiously against him and Zar leaned up to kiss me, hands on my arms, guiding me to turn, my head on his chest so as to avoid any sudden spider infestation in my hair.

  I looked up, thinking of his words, and gasped.

  Moon touched Sun, who kissed Earth, who grew grass, who reached for Sun and Moon in praise and thanks.

  He was right. It was a weird, intensely beautiful visual. Nothing but green and golden grass lifting up above us, stretching away to form a tunnel, with brilliant blue sky at the end of the tunnel. The low western sun sent vivid dark shadows lacing through streaks of yellow gold in the grass so the whole thing was a cavern of vertical lines in light and dark. With the slight breeze, it all swayed gently at the tips.

  I don’t know why, but it was one of the most magical things I’ve ever seen. The intensity, the closeness, the personal feeling of being the only two people here in this beauty. It may even have been worth a spider or a tick.

  I stared and stared, taking in the power of the image, natural magic of the place, my skin tingling with it, while Zar kissed my hair and ran his fingers down my bare arms. I imagined him fondling my breasts, unzipping my jeans. Of course, he was much too polite.

  I rolled onto him to kiss him, mouth covering his, wrapped up in the space and heat and nearness of him. Zar held my face. I felt our bodies connected all the way to our shoes. Both in jeans, his charcoal, mine indigo, pressing together. I eased more on top of him until my thigh pressed his groin and Zar opened his legs for more contact.

  I pictured him unbuttoning my blouse, sliding his hand into my jeans. I saw him rolling on top of me, me getting his fly open.

  I drew my tongue along the edge of his teeth, then between. Zar had beautiful teeth that I’d noticed when we’d first met at the gathering of the South Coast Cooperative by night. Somehow, his mouth still tasted faintly of black currants from his ice cream. Did my mouth taste of coffee to him? He probably didn’t care for that. I’d just bought vanilla lip balm in town, though not had a chance to put it on. Anyway, it was meant for Isaac. Not for Zar.

  What was for Zar? Right now, anything. Everything.

  I lifted my weight off him to reach and feel his abs, pressing into his groin with my thigh at the same time. Zar was finally holding on tighter, gasping into my mouth, holding my face, my hair, sucking my tongue.

  I interrupted my own reaching progress toward his belt to take one of his hands, guiding him, getting him to really touch me. My mind raced ahead to the feel of his hand between my legs, or more, wanting more, as I pulled back, giving him space to open whatever buttons he liked.

  But Zar did not unbutton my blouse, or push me back into the grass. He didn’t even try to get into my pants. Because I looked up, some movement catching my eye as I broke the kiss, and there was an enormous spider darting over his hair.

  Chapter 32

  I screamed and leapt back so violently I hit him in the diaphragm. Zar coughed as he also jumped up. I pounded my clothes and hair, slashing downward.

  I drew on the favor of the wind to gust against me, blowing away debris.

  “There’s nothing on you,” Zar gagged, though he was also laughing, inhibiting getting his breath back.

  “Are you sure? Check.” I turned slowly in place for him to study me.

  “Nothing—”

  “You’re hardly even looking!”

  He coughed more, cleared his throat, sobered his expression, and examined me.

  “No spiders,” he said. “I swear.”

  “Don’t laugh. What are you afraid of? Worms? Magic? Your brother? Let’s not start throwing stones at my spider issue.”

  That wiped the smile off his face.

  “Come on. Even I can smell dinner. Not that I should be eating any more today.”

  Zar glanced to me as he led me back through the trail he formed in the grass. “Why? You hardly eat anything.” He looked worried. I’d noticed this before. He genuinely seemed to fear I would starve.

  “Zar? Where do you get your information about humans?” We reached the main trail alongside the hayfield and started back toward the white bee boxes. “Aside from ancient texts, I mean.”

  He flushed, looking ahead, once more holding my hand. “Family. We’ve all been around humans. We’re not raised in kennels.”

  “But some of you are around us way, way more. You work in a shop at home and read your own people’s library. Have you ever worked with humans? Have you ever dated a human?”

  He bit his lip. I had the impression he was thinking fast, maybe about lying. Then he shook his head.

  “It might be possible you’ve had some faulty information. Maybe even bad advice. I actually eat plenty—too much today. And in a normal way also. My food habits are not weird.”

  I could see he was thinking about that one also.

  Well, it was enough. I wasn’t going to get into anything more since I shouldn’t be encouraging him about the two of us anyway. Maybe this hint would be enough to make him rethink some of his ideas about humans.

  By the time we reached the beehives, the sun was nearly gone and I could see several figures milling about the tables out back. Joseph’s voice carried like a yodel.

  I disengaged my hand from Zar’s, then felt bad since he looked sadly down.

  “I’m sorry, but doesn’t that strike you as a bad idea?” Jerking my head toward the group we were approaching—now in clear sight. “I don’t want you to be attacked tonight.”

  Zar did not seem to find this reason comforting. Did he know I hadn’t wanted Isaac to see? Or was his sense of rejection more general than that?

  I felt horrible that I’d hurt his feelings, yet could think of no way to make it right while we walked up to the others.

  At the last minute, by the benches and the flower arch, I whispered, “Come say good night before you change tonight if I’ve already gone in.”

  Zar nodded as Joseph was booming a welcome to us.

  The meal was a repeat of the first one. The rest of the boar, only now with roast chickens instead of vegetables, and homemade bread, apple preserves, fresh honey, and fresh butter for dessert.

  My kingdom for something green. They must send off most of the vegetables they grew to the farm store. I was certain they wouldn’t mind my harvesting and fixing a salad tomorrow. It didn’t seem like I’d get one any other way.

  I had a drumstick and a single slice of the tender, seeded bread with apple preserves for dessert. I’d have loved cinnamon on there also. They didn’t seem to like anything even the least bit spicy.

  After a modest meal compared to lunch—maybe a pound of meat and five or six adorned slices of bread each—the sun was set and everyone gathered about an empty fire pit.

  They talked and sang in Lucannis, the Bavarians sharing their own traditional songs with the Englishwolves. Isaac once more translated for me, whispering in my ear, his beard brushing my skin, hand on mine—which was on my thigh.

  I wished Isaac would stop. Hardly as if I could pay attention while I felt the battery of hostile gazes on us—all the time wanting nothing more than to turn into him and kiss him.

  After several songs, with bug-repelling torches lit and darkness settled, Joseph instructed them on where they could go, and where they couldn’t. In English, he gave directions to head up into the southwestern mountains for a place they could run and sing, maybe catch a wild boar or deer if they were lucky.

&nb
sp; “We are grateful if you bring anything in,” he added. “We can put it in the pit to cook. But be careful with those boars. It takes a pack. Even then they can cut you up. They’re dangerous beasts. And, please, do not bring down a doe this time of year unless she is old or unwell. You can leave your things here and change, but you do with the understanding that you will not hang about. It makes the livestock nervous. Stay out there and you’ll find no quarrel. Best be back in your beds before dawn as well. This is farm country. Many early risers.”

  While they listened to him, the six wolves sat about the lawn, watching Joseph or the flickering torches. Jason started eating grass, plucking it between thumb a forefinger. In another minute, all were eating grass in a mindless, absent way, not as if they cared about it, but more as if they couldn’t stand the idea that one of their number could be eating something that they missed. Even Isaac beside me had a taste.

  So they had their green vegetable after all.

  What was my life coming to?

  After Joseph explained the lay of the land, smaller conversations split up and I was able to ask Isaac what had happened that afternoon. A dinnertime conversation we’d missed since no one ever talked during a meal aside from blessings to Moon.

  Isaac, chewing, flicked his hand to wave Andrew over. Zar was already close on my left, Isaac on my right, and Andrew crawled over on his hands and knees, plucking more grass. He flopped on his back against my legs, which were out in front of me toward the empty fire at the heart of our singing circle. Andrew rested his head on my leg just above my knee. The front of his dark red henley was open with none of the buttons done.

  “You missed a cultural field trip, darling,” he told me, offering up grass while Zar sat glaring at him from my other side.

  Isaac did not seem troubled.

  “Did you find Max?” I asked, shaking my head at the grass.

  “We think so,” Isaac said. “Unfortunately, the place was busy. It’s a saint’s day.”

  “Busy as Brighton Station at the end of a Friday,” Andrew said. “Flowers, raking up, people setting out candles and wreaths.”

  “Then there may still be people there now,” I said.