Under An Alaskan Moon: A Shifter Romance

by Scarlett McLeod

  Copyright © 2020 by Scarlett McLeod

  All rights reserved. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in, or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known, hereinafter invented, without express written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

  Typewriter Pub, an imprint of Blvnp Incorporated

  A Nevada Corporation

  1887 Whitney Mesa DR #2002

  Henderson, NV 89014

  www.typewriterpub.com/info@typewriterpub.com

  ISBN: 978-1-64434-106-3

  DISCLAIMER

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. While references might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  UNDER AN ALASKAN MOON

  SCARLETT MCLEOD

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  CHAPTER one

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER three

  CHAPTER four

  CHAPTER five

  CHAPTER six

  CHAPTER seven

  CHAPTER eight

  CHAPTER nine

  CHAPTER ten

  CHAPTER eleven

  CHAPTER twelve

  CHAPTER thirteen

  CHAPTER fourteen

  CHAPTER fifteen

  CHAPTER sixteen

  CHAPTER seventeen

  CHAPTER eighteen

  CHAPTER nineteen

  CHAPTER twenty

  CHAPTER twenty-one

  CHAPTER twenty-two

  CHAPTER twenty-three

  CHAPTER twenty-four

  CHAPTER twenty-five

  CHAPTER twenty-six

  CHAPTER twenty-seven

  CHAPTER twenty-eight

  CHAPTER twenty-nine

  CHAPTER thirty

  CHAPTER thirty-one

  CHAPTER thirty-two

  CHAPTER thirty-three

  CHAPTER thirty-four

  CHAPTER thirty-five

  CHAPTER thirty-six

  CHAPTER thirty-seven

  CHAPTER thirty-eight

  CHAPTER thirty-nine

  CHAPTER forty

  CHAPTER forty-one

  CHAPTER forty-two

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  Prologue

  To shapeshifters, a mate is sacred. They only get one, and a mate is the completion of the other’s soul. To male werewolves, a woman’s body should be treated with reverence. A woman, on the other hand, regards her mate as a protector and lover. It’s not because she can’t protect herself; she doesn’t have to. There’s a difference.

  ***

  Running. Always running.

  Colin Byrd could barely remember a time before he began running. He had to stay moving; never in the same place more than a few days. There were a few rules for a lone rogue such as he and that was one of them. Survival was key.

  Many, many, years ago, when he had resigned himself to The Change and became lost in his fur, he didn’t know how to survive. His wolf had taken charge, ensuring that they lived. But he had been baffled about certain things. How were they to survive without a pack? Wolves needed a family; they needed pack. Yet his had cast him out when it became apparent his fur was taking his skin.

  Too many moons he had been without his mate and The Change slowly began. He still remembered the heartbroken look on his mother’s face, but it had grown blurry with time. He was locked in his fur form now with little hope of ever changing again even if he found his mate. He had been wandering the world, first as man and then as wolf, for a century, looking for her.

  Suppose she was dead by now?, he thought.

  Shape-shifters always found their mates by the time they reached a century, which was just twenty in human years. That time gap was to ensure a space of time for pups. Man and woman, wolf and skin, stopped aging at the human age of thirty. Unless killed, werewolves have the ability to live forever. Colin had never understood why he was different.

  Colin never understood why he had never found his mate. Once he realized she wasn’t among his small pack, he journeyed to the other two hidden deep in the mountains, but she was not there either.

  His mate, wherever she was, was human. He was sure of it. He had commenced a search to find her, traveling the world in his skin. He had looked for her that way for twenty years before he returned heartbroken to the mountains he called home. Once his family realized he was losing himself to his fur, he knew the decision they would have to make.

  The ancient text actually dictated he be killed, but his parents did worse and broke the code by turning him out. They abandoned him. He was left to run wild. They never expected him to live. Most shifters that were cast out died from natural causes or were slaughtered like the animals they were.

  But he was still searching. Still looking for her. Maybe she hadn’t been born yet. Maybe she was just out of his reach, but he knew she was there. She was his Promise.

  CHAPTER one

  It was freezing cold.

  Faye Anders closed the door to her chicken coop and turned the light on so the chickens could stay warm. She could see her breath as it fogged in the air.

  Carefully, she made her way back towards the house, wary of the ice in the wavering light. It was almost dark. She hurried to get inside where there was a fire crackling brightly in the fireplace, beckoning her to bathe in its heat.

  Shedding her coat, gloves, and boots, Faye stood in front of the fire for a moment to warm up before moving to the kitchen for dinner. She was having one of her favorite soups tonight, and for that she was glad.

  As she ate, she glanced at the four walls she called her own. It was a small cabin, but it was hers, left to her by her father when he died. She missed him dearly, but she had gotten used to the solitude of living alone. She even liked it.

  After finishing her dinner, she glanced out the window above her kitchen sink and smiled. Soft new flakes of snow sank towards the ground slowly. It was the first snow of winter.

  Faye tucked a curly strand of long blonde hair behind her ear as she stared at her reflection in the mirror in her bathroom. Small freckles patterned across her nose stood out against her pale skin. Her deep green eyes were stared back at her critically.

  She saw a mouth that was too big. Eyes that were too green and too round. A nose that was too small, and freckles . . . well, she damned the freckles. The only thing she liked about herself was her hair. Soft like silk and curly, her hair reached to her waist and could be a real bother on most days, but she considered it her only beauty.

  With a sigh, she gave up trying to see what her friends talked about when she said how pretty she was. Faye scoffed. She wasn’t pretty, but she wasn’t ugly either. She was average and happy about it.

  She finished brushing her teeth and hopped into her pajamas before returning to the living room. Plopping down on the giant recliner that had been her dad’s, she grabbed
a book she had been reading and curled up in front of the fire. She loved her dad’s big old chair. Now that he was gone, cuddling up in it felt like he was giving her a bear hug. It was the closest she would ever get to her daddy’s arms again in this life. She picked up reading where she had left off and cuddled into the chair.

  ***

  Miles away, Colin crouched in the brush on shaky legs. For the first time in weeks, he felt hopeful. He had scented the moose a few minutes ago and paused. It was a mother and her baby. Now, the mother he wouldn’t even attempt to take down; the baby was a different story. He drooled from the lust of the kill. He was starving, and he could only hope that he had enough strength left to take down the moose. He needed food, and he needed it now.

  He crouched down and stalked forward. But hunger made him careless, and his paw stepped on a branch, causing it to snap. The baby moose looked up from where it was standing on the shore of the lake. Curiously, it stepped closer as it sniffed the air. Colin took another step and stumbled. The moose was frightened by now and made a noise.

  The mother looked up from her position out in the lake. Quickly, she made a charge for the bank. Colin charged the baby moose with a snarl, desperation making him stupid.

  If he’d been in full control of his senses, he would have known to run while he still could. An angry mother moose was not to be trifled with, and he knew that.

  The baby moose dodged, and Colin skidded on an ice patch before tumbling head over paws. With a growl, he stood back up and shook himself. He crouched to pounce again but was suddenly lifted through the air. His ribs stung from the force of the impact, and he yelped loudly as he flew into the lake. Yipping loudly, he clambered to his paws and made a beeline for the trees, thankful the moose hadn’t tossed him too far out in the lake. He could hear the moose following him, her angry hooves pounding on the ground, so he ran faster.

  An hour later, Colin staggered through the darkening forest; barely able to put one paw in front of the other. His limbs ached, and he was still soaking wet from his dunk in the lake. The moose had stopped chasing him a few miles back, but he kept moving.

  He knew somehow, that once he stopped this time, he wouldn’t be able to get up again. He was too tired, too weak, and too hungry. If he was lucky, a pack of wolves or a hunter would find him and put him out of his misery.

  Colin’s wobbly legs gave out just as he caught sight of a light through a break in the trees. He crashed to the ground, doing a complete somersault before flopping on his side, his wheezy breathing rattling his rib cage. His vision blurred as he pushed himself to his feet once more and stumbled towards the light. If he didn’t get help, he was going to die without having met his mate, his Promise. Hot white anguish stabbed his heart at the thought. His wolf lifted up his muzzle and howled long and full of agony.

  ***

  Startled, Faye looked up from her book as the tortured howl filled the night air. That was a wolf. She waited for a few moments to see if another howl would follow, but the night remained silent.

  This was not good, she thought. A lone wolf near her henhouse was a recipe for disaster. Getting up from her seat in front of the fire, she pulled on her jacket and slipped her feet into a pair of fur-lined moccasins before grabbing the double-barreled shotgun from beside the door.

  Faye opened the front door, steeling herself against the cold wind, and shone the flashlight across the yard. She stopped scanning the yard when the light shone on a pair of reflective yellow eyes.

  It was the wolf.

  He was way too close to the house for comfort, and he was staring right at her. Faye shivered and not just from the cold. She pumped the shotgun and waited. If he so much as looked in the direction of her henhouse, he was one dead wolf.

  ***

  Colin froze as the blonde-haired girl stood silhouetted in the open doorway of the cabin. She was beyond beautiful. Her scent got caught in his nose, and he forgot to breathe.

  It was her! The Promise!

  He crouched shivering in the bushes, dizzy from the wave of feelings crashing over him.

  She was human.

  “The mate bond is instantaneous for a wolf.” His wolf was internally howling and dancing in glee, screaming “Mate! Mate!”

  Her flashlight nearly blinded him when he came back to reality. The double-barreled shotgun in her hand didn’t go unnoticed either, and he flinched. Surely she would not shoot him!

  “She is human. She won’t feel the mate bond, not at first.”

  It was time for the step of faith. He had found her. Now to claim her as his!

  Making himself as small and unthreatening as possible with his tail tucked between his legs, he slunk into the clearing.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Faye’s eyes bugged out as the wolf stepped into the clearing, the flashlight highlighting its protruding ribs and matted stringy fur. The poor thing was nothing but skin and bones, she thought. His legs trembled as he stumbled forward, barely able to hold his weight. He could barely walk, and he whined and whimpered at her.

  Faye sighed as she considered her options. She could kill it and put it out of its misery. But Faye hated killing unless it was absolutely necessary. A starving wolf was a crazy wolf, she knew, but he made no move to attack her chickens or her. Faye sighed.

  ***

  Colin whined at the conflicted look on her face. It was the only thing he could do. Being stuck in his fur meant he was limited to the sounds of a mere animal; dog-like whines or whimpers. He had to do anything to get her attention.

  He tried taking another step forward, but his paws slipped again on the stupid ice and down he went. Hard. With a weak yelp, he landed on his bruised ribs. He laid still as the air got knocked out of his lungs. Black dots clouded his vision, and he urged his wolf to stay awake.

  If they could convince his mate they were no threat, she might help him. He just wanted his mate. After years and years of pain and misery and endless searching, he had finally found her, but she was pointing a shotgun at him. It wasn’t how he pictured their first meeting would be. But then, when he had thought of all those things, dreamed how it would go, he had been in his skin, not his fur. So much had been taken from him.

  Even now, he was worried. Just because he had met his mate, it didn’t mean he would change. If he survived long enough that is. He might be stuck in his fur forever.

  ***

  Faye watched the wolf collapse, wincing herself as his yelps filled the air. After he didn’t move for a few moments, she began to take cautious steps towards him while still holding the shotgun. As she neared him, his bony head swung to look at her. She paused, raising an eyebrow as she pointed the gun right between his eyes.

  Her message was clear to Colin. He didn’t need to make any sudden moves. He was relieved she didn’t seem so inclined to shoot him anymore, unless she was going to do it at point-blank range. That was a relief.

  He whined softly, and she spoke for the first time, her soft, slightly husky voice soothing in his ears.

  “Easy, Wolfie,” she said. “You don’t hurt me, and I won’t hurt you.”

  He huffed, and Faye smiled as he looked at her with an almost human dead-pan expression. She drew closer, shoving a wayward strand of hair out of her eye.

  “You’re all messed up. Ain’t ya, boy?” she asked softly.

  Slowly, she held out her hand for him to smell, hoping he didn’t feel threatened and snap her fingers off. Faye was surprised that instead of snapping her fingers like a normal feral wolf, he responded by giving little licks to her fingers while belly-crawling towards her, whining softly.

  Faye was suddenly relieved she hadn’t shot him. He was no feral wolf. He had been domesticated at some time, she was sure. There was no other explanation for his gentle behavior.

  Gently, she ran her hand over his head, bypassing his torn right ear that was crusted with blood and trying to ignore the extreme wet dog smell coming from his fur. He nudged his head into her palm, his whines ceasing as hi
s eyes closed.

  “You’ve had a rough time of it. Haven’t you, Wolfie?” she said as she shined her flashlight over his numerous injuries.

  The poor thing looked like he had been run through a blender with his missing hair, cuts, lacerations, and general bloodiness, she thought.

  Colin, on the other hand, felt close to euphoria as her scent washed over him. She smelled like fire, vanilla, and strawberries. It was a weird combination, but he already loved it. That, combined with her hand gently stroking his fur, was nothing short of heaven. He whined when she pulled away, already missing the warmth she provided.

  Faye slung the shotgun on its strap over her shoulder, turned off her flashlight, and shoved it in her pocket.

  Colin made a weird noise in his throat, his paws scrambling as, suddenly, her arms went beneath him, lifting him through the air.

  His wolf panicked for a moment before his head lodged against her neck and heard her cooing comforting things. His movements stilled, and if he had been able to, there would have been a blush coating his cheeks as she carried him like a child. To distract himself, he breathed in deeply. Her scent was so intoxicating.

  Faye giggled quietly as his cold wet nose pressed against her neck. She would definitely need another shower. Quickly, she made her way back inside as she carried the starving wolf. Getting the door open was tricky, but, eventually, she managed it without dropping him.

  She laid him down gently on the floor in front of the fireplace, his paws sinking into the soft bear rug. He watched with bright eyes as she took off her coat and set the gun down in the corner.

  She went into the kitchen, and when she came back, she had a bowl of meat in her hands. He drooled, eyes glued to the bowl as she set it down. Gently, he felt her hands lift him until he could eat. It was awkward with her holding him. He didn’t even have the strength to get up anymore. Other than the slight embarrassment, he was content to scarf down the meat with her holding him. When he was done licking and sniffing the bowl, he looked at her expectantly. She laid him back down with a laugh as she said, “Sorry, Wolfie, but that’s all you get tonight. You’d get sick if I gave you anymore, and I really don’t want to clean up dog vomit.”