Hunter's Moon (The Witch Who Sang with Wolves Book 1)

by Kat Bostick

  “Assuming Trevor gets you before she does. That witch is a feisty one.” Charlie liked the fiery lass.

  He wasn’t one to get caught up in the political skirmishes between magic folk and shapeshifters. In his pack they were tolerant of those who were tolerant of them. And so far, Mariella Sowka had proven to be more than tolerant. Boldly entering pack territory and challenging him made her worthy of respect in Charlie’s eyes.

  “She said they weren’t mates. How is Trev supposed to convince us otherwise if he can’t talk?” Cash curled his lip in an impish grin.

  “Why would she say that? Is it only because they haven’t completed the ritual? I can’t imagine an untrained witch would have knowledge of such traditions. It’s obvious that they’re mates. The connection is palpable. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. Even Pa struggled to pacify Trevor when he walked as the wolf for too long. If the girl is to be believed, she has no experience with wolves, yet she has an innate understanding of him. He listens when she speaks.”

  Clem wasn’t wrong. Charlie made more progress with the redhead than he suspected anyone ever had, but it was nothing like what the witch managed in a short few months. And after he’d spent so much time in solitude? Such a feat was both impressive and unheard of. Trevor was a member of the pack for a decade and he was no less enigmatic than the first day they brought him to Humble Springs. Charlie loved him as a son, cared for him as he did all of his wolves, yet had never found the right combination to crack the young man’s mind.

  “Interesting choice of words, Clementine.” Charlie was speaking more to himself than to his daughter. A niggling thought was struggling to surface in the depths of his mind, distracting him from the current conversation. The arrival of this witch tugged at a distant memory and the alpha spent much of his morning trying to dredge it up to no avail.

  Clem cocked her head. “Do you doubt her integrity?”

  “No, she’s sincere. And, disregarding the direness of the situation, it’s rather amusing, wouldn’t you say?”

  “I’m absolutely tickled.” Cash pressed his nose to the window to get a better view of the dramatic battle that was taking place outside.

  The red wolf was trotting circles around the witch, slowly closing in on his opponent. As he neared, he lowered his snout to nip at her ankles. It only took a few swift snaps before she was stumbling backwards, the wolf diving to pin her. The parlor fell silent as the three onlookers nervously watched the scene.

  What had a moment ago been casual play seemed to be quickly escalating. Werewolves were not immune to the instinct that demanded they chase fleeing prey or pounce on a wounded creature. With the girl on the ground, Trevor could dispatch her in seconds before the rationale of man could take over.

  Mari was engulfed by a mass of muscle and fur. The beast opened his jaws and clamped down on the curve of her neck between her throat and her shoulder blade in what could have been a killing move. Yet, when she opened her mouth the only noise that came out were girlish growls. She was flailing her arms and legs, gripping handfuls of fur and landing blows on the wolf’s back, but she was in no state of panic. Trevor gently shook his head and playful giggling ensued.

  The tension dissipated and all three Dunnes laughed in surprise as the witch wrapped her arms around the wolf’s chest, lifted her head, and clamped her teeth down on one of his ears. Trevor yelped, tucking his tail between his legs and going limp in her hold—a move that practically crushed her. He shoved his head under her chin and lapped at her mouth in a placatory gesture.

  “That is absolutely pitiful.” Mari teased as she cupped Trevor’s head and scratched soothing fingers through the fur behind his ears.

  “That is pitiful.” Clem chortled. “It’s quite adorable, too. I think Trev is in love.”

  Cash rubbed his chin and growled. “I think I’m in love.”

  Clem reached behind Charlie to smack the back of her brother’s head. “When are you going to utilize your power of flirtation on someone you actually want to mate with?”

  “Who says I want to mate with anyone?” Cash grunted back.

  Charlie sighed inwardly. The teasing between siblings normally didn’t irk him but the unexpected arrival of Trevor with a mate in tow had his patience stretched thinner than usual. Or perhaps it was the direction of their conversation that put a slightly sour taste in his mouth. He understood that his children were lighthearted in their bantering but that didn’t mean there wasn’t honesty in their words. While it thrilled him to see the first of his wolves finally choose a mate, no matter how unconventional she may be, it also served as a sad reminder that both Clem and Cash would likely never do the same.

  Clem’s hesitation to seek out a mate was reasonable. A selfish part of him didn’t want his only daughter by blood to accept a suitor. Most males would expect—even demand—that she be the one to leave her pack and join with his. Werewolves, like all creatures, were prone to egotism and many of Charlie’s kind considered it emasculating for a male to leave his pack to join his mate’s. Not wanting to give up her family and join a pack that would most likely require her to quiet her outspoken manner, Clem refused to even consider any offerings of courtship.

  Unlike his sister, Cash’s rational was inadmissible. He wasn’t an alpha to force a mating on his son like so many did but Charlie was also not willing to easily drop the issue, even after decades of arguing his point. Watching his father agonize over the death of their mother convinced Cash that taking a mate would never be worth the risk of suffering such a loss. It didn’t matter how many times the alpha asserted that he would relive every second of pain and grief that followed Viola’s death if it meant he could keep the ninety years of joy she graced him with. Cash chose to hide behind his carefree, flirtatious façade.

  Unfortunately for Charlie’s son, it was challenging to conceal emotions when surrounded by a pack of creatures whose very nature was empathic. The wolves experienced their own feelings and those of others deeply. That was why, despite the playful jabs Clem and Cash tossed at each other, all three wolves were uncomfortably aware of the heavy loneliness that lumped in their throats as they watched the affectionate pair outside.

  The moment was particularly bittersweet for Charlie as he revisited his early years with Viola. As a human, she was even more fragile than a witch. Charlie was a stripling and newly bitten when he met his beloved. She’d loved him unconditionally, God rest her soul, but Viola never quite overcame her fear of the wolf. Yet when their children were born with wolf blood, she received them without judgment. Once Charlie became an alpha, Viola held her role as his mate with grace. She doted on pack members when they deserved it and served swift but fair discipline when they needed it.

  “You’re actually considering letting a witch join the pack?” Clem slanted her head in Charlie’s direction.

  The expression in her dark blue eyes was strictly curiosity. Clem played a vital role to his position as alpha. Though she was a sensitive woman with a heart large enough to hold the world, her guidance always came with a good dose of logic. She was nothing if not rational. Today the she-wolf would go digging through the library and researching witches to better advise her father on the matter.

  Charlie had no reason to hesitate before giving his answer. He was the alpha. Clem and Cash were welcome to discuss his decisions with him but at the end of the day, his word was law. Still, he took another moment to observe the newcomer. The truth was that Charlie made his mind up about letting her stay within the first ten minutes of her arrival and he recognized that being hasty about such a decision could be unwise. Then again, he hadn’t gotten this far in life by tip toeing. An alpha wolf was bold by nature.

  A good alpha was also intuitive. His instincts were sharper than his fangs and therefore his greatest asset in all battles. Currently, those instincts told him that he wanted to keep this witch around. There was something about her that snared the attention of the wolf inside of him. Perhaps it was the ease with which she fell
in step with them; matching teeth with teeth and meeting a challenge brazen-faced.

  “I see no point in clinging to prejudices that, as far as my experience goes, have no justification. In this current day it is rare for a witch to have enough power to pose a threat to a wolf. If not for Trevor’s current predicament, I might have thought it was impossible.” Charlie raised his arms over his head in a languid stretch of his spine. “Then again, there is a potency to the scent of this one’s magic, isn’t there?”

  “I haven’t met many witches but, yes, I think she’s powerful.” Clem agreed. “I don’t think she knows the extent of her own power.”

  “You sure about that? When she cast this morning, she didn’t exactly do any damage.” Cash chuckled. “Nothing too powerful about growing weeds.”

  “From what I understand, that type of earth magic is secondary. It certainly requires power but I believe most magic folk can learn to do it. Though, I’m unsure if Sibylline Dreamers are linked to the earth the way that some witches are. It would be prudent to learn more about her heritage.” Charlie could almost see the wheels spinning in Clementine’s head.

  “Whatever this witch is, she had the strength to tame a rogue wolf that should have been too far gone for anyone to reach. Is that strength of character or strength gained by magic? And I wonder, what does that say about Trevor? I can’t deny that he’s always been unique but no werewolf should be able to live on four legs for a year without going mad. I’m shocked he wasn’t driven to bloodlust when he killed those young men.” Charlie was equally inquisitive.

  “He wasn’t driven to kill, he was driven to protect. I can’t imagine any other circumstance where he would defend someone that wasn’t pack. I don’t think it’s in his nature to care about anyone outside of the pack, especially not a witch. I’d like to ask him more about it.” She shifted her weight and looked down at her father—she was at least three inches taller than him and the heels she wore didn’t make her any slighter. “Do you really think you can call on a change if it was forced by a curse?”

  “There’s only one way to find out.”

  Just then Mari stood and brushed off the seat of her jeans, causing the three to take a step back to avoid being spotted through the window. Charlie chuckled when he noticed her t-shirt. It sported a design of a full moon with the words “stay wild moon child” in loopy letters. Charlie believed in coincidence but he also believed in God. This was probably one of the more amusing answers to his prayers.

  Many described God’s ways as mysterious. Charlie liked to think of them as teasing. For years his loudest and most urgent prayer was for peace. What could he do to quiet the growing restlessness within his pack?

  He tried seeking out new members, fresh blood to add diversity. There weren’t many seasoned wolves that would make a good fit. Each current member had been young or new to werewolf life when they came to him. They had no preconceived notions about how a pack should be run and they found it easy to accept his way over the ways of other alphas.

  At one time, he encouraged courtship for Cash, Deak, and Trevor. None of them were particularly open to the idea. Cash refused to entertain the she-wolves that came to their territory and spent most of the visit in his room. When forced to be sociably, he made just about every female uncomfortable with his crass jokes and glibness. Deak was worse. He spoke cordially and sat so damn stiff and straight that his spine could have been used as a ruler. The few matches Charlie found for him left thinking of Deak as cold and unattached.

  As for Trevor? He made his feelings about mating quite clear after the first failed meeting. Maybe the redhead felt discouraged when Charlie tried to set him up with a she-wolf from his old pack. Cassandra was recently bitten and not so influenced by Nikolai that she couldn’t change her ways if she changed packs. She was quiet and gentle—qualities Charlie wrongly thought would be perfect for the withdrawn young man.

  After that, the stubborn bastard changed before each she-wolf came to meet him and refused to return to two legs until they were gone. At the time Charlie believed it to be a trust issue. It took more than a year for Trevor to trust the Humble Springs pack and once he did, they were the only ones to ever be granted that privilege. He was wary of outsiders, the least welcoming werewolf Charlie had ever met. Trevor simply wouldn’t tolerate strangers, even enough to let them beyond the gate without a fuss.

  And now look at him.

  Careful. Charlie warned himself. Getting lost in the romance of the situation might distract him from seeing important details. Instinct or not, it would be foolish of him to be so easily convinced of the witch’s words without verifying them from the only other source he had. And if he couldn’t bring Trevor back? Well, they would cross that bridge when they came to it.

  Barefoot and covered in grass, the little witch loomed over the wolf with arms crossed. The deadly beast was three times her size but he appeared deceptively innocent seated obediently in front of her. That was how Trevor got his victims. Smug bastard could look so harmless with his lopsided grin, fresh face, and subtle swagger. The lad was never much of a conversationalist but when he did use that silver tongue, he could talk a fish out of water.

  That was one more element of this situation which perplexed Charlie. There was no doubt in his mind that the redhead could have wooed his plucky young mate with words and wiles. But how in the hell had he managed it without the ability to speak? And in the body of an animal, at that.

  Maybe she didn’t have a heart so easily won by flirtation and flattery. Instead Trevor spoke to her in the language of the wolf and Charlie suspected that to someone like Mari, that rang much louder and truer than any uttered words or promises.

  “She’s bossy.” Cash groused, a little grumpy watching his pack mate play and not getting to share in any of the fun.

  “Good. She’ll fit right in with a pack of overbearing louts.” Charlie laughed softly and headed for the kitchen. “I think it’s time for lunch.”

  Chapter 26

  Mari

  Mari was damp with sweat when she reached the front door. She hadn’t intended for the short trip outside to turn into a wrestling match but she couldn’t say that she was disappointed. She was a horrible combination of hangry and stressed with a sprinkling of a sleep headache. Fifteen minutes of roughhousing was just what she needed to lighten her mood.

  In the heat of a play Mari forgot the misgivings that turned her affection towards Jasper tentative. They hadn’t even had a chance to talk yet. For all she knew, the whole pack was misinterpreting what he was communicating and Jasper was just rolling with it. She was too afraid to flat out ask him. That was one too many things to handle today.

  When she stepped through the front door and paused in the foyer to wipe grass from her feet, Mari had to pinch herself. She couldn’t believe they’d found Jasper’s pack just as she was giving up hope. The whole situation was insane. Werewolves living in a mansion? Werewolves that owned vacation resorts? That drank fancy coffee?

  Jasper led Mari into the kitchen, where they found Charlie assembling a mountain of roast beef sandwiches. The alpha shot them a cheerful smile and popped a slice of meat into his mouth.

  “I bet you’re famished.” He said, putting two sandwiches on a plate and setting the other billion aside. How many sandwiches could a pack of werewolves eat? Jasper had a healthy appetite but jeez, that was a lot of food.

  “Oh,” Charlie frowned. “You probably don’t want a sandwich, do you, Trev?”

  “Do you have any steak? Venison or lamb is good too. He’ll settle for chicken but red meat is his preference.” Mari said.

  “So you’ve been playing personal chef to a werewolf? I’m impressed.”

  “It’s not a big deal.” She resisted groaning in discomfort.

  It was fine talking to Charlie when it was life or death. Making polite small talk in his kitchen as if they knew each other made her unbearably uncomfortable. Mari didn’t know how to get to know people and the added pressure
of wanting to make a good impression—especially to make up for her tantrum earlier—only made it worse. She gave Jasper a dirty look. It wasn’t really fair to blame him for leaving her floundering with his family but she was going to anyway.

  Sensing her discomfort, Jasper snuggled up to her hip. When she shrugged his affection off, he chomped on her hand. “I just spent the morning swearing that you don’t have a proclivity for killing people. Now you’re eating human flesh in front of your alpha? Not making me look good, Red.”