Rex stayed around the cabin more than usual in the days leading up to the full moon. Usually, when I'd come home from foraging and fishing, he would still be away, hunting until the early hours of the night, passing up small game for bigger fare. Lately though, he'd had us eating lots of rabbits and birds. I'd even finally been forced to try a bite of squirrel, even though it was with much reluctance. I probably wouldn't have done it if not for Rex becoming visibly upset about my stubbornness.
Finally, the night of the full moon was upon us. Nervousness welled up inside of me in remembrance of my last shift. It had been so terrifying, waiting for the moon like it was my executioner. There was no stopping the change, and for as long as I lived, I would have to face that same overwhelming fear every full moon.
The last time I had shifted, I had been contained, locked inside of the shifting room at the compound. All through the night, I had rampaged, destroying everything around me. This time, I would be free to roam the reservation. That thought scared me even more. With no consciousness during the change, who could tell what I would do or where I would end up. It was every bit as unnerving as my first shift, just with a new twist.
Despite not feeling like doing anything but sulking in overwhelming depression, Rex insisted that we go about our business just like it was any other day. He said that focusing on the shift only made things worse, and while I knew he was right, I couldn't help but obsess over it. How could I not think about it? It would only be my second time to shift.
When I returned to the cabin with my daily bounty, I was surprised to find Rex sitting on his log, absent a fire or a kill. I approached him with a confused look on my face, and he simply stared at me deadpan.
“Where's yours?” I asked, holding up the two perch I had managed to catch and a sackful of wild mushrooms.
“Well I'm glad you didn't bring home a whole stringful,” he replied with an amused huff.
“What's so funny?” Now I was annoyed. How could he sit on his ass the entire day while I went out to work? If this was some joke, then it wasn't funny.
“You know, we're probably going to hunt tonight? Well, probably isn't the right word. It's a given. Wolves always hunt. Hunt and fuck. That's what we do.”
Rex's words were so blunt that they sent a blush straight to my cheeks. Would we really . . . have sex? Would I have sex with him or another one of the werewolves? This lack of free will thing seemed worse all the time.
“I really wish you hadn't told my that,” I said with a scowl. “And if you knew we were going to hunt tonight then why did you have me go fishing?”
“To keep you out of my hair.”
I growled, dropping the fish to the floor. Rex must have known that I was really angry because he threw his hands up in surrender before reaching behind himself and pulling out a bow.
“Calm down. It ain't like I was doin' nothin'. I was finishing up your present.” He tossed the bow at my feet, his harsh tone indicating that he already felt I didn't appreciate the gift.
My eyes fell down to the weapon, handmade and every bit as nice as the one that Rex used. I knelt to pick it up, running my fingers over the smooth wooden surface, mesmerized by the craftsmanship. It was beautiful, and just for me.
“T-Thank you,” I hesitated. “It's lovely.”
“Well, now I don't have to worry about you strangling critters with your bare hands.” He smirked up at me, and I knew we were okay again.
Despite his insistence that we would be hunting that night, I built up a fire to cook my fish. There was no point in letting it go to waste. We shared the meal, even though Rex was reluctant at first, not wanting to spoil his hunt. I could tell that he liked being a wolf, and it made me think of his brother. Maybe some people really were meant to be werewolves. I certainly wasn't one of them though.
As the time for our shift approached, Rex pulled me outside. His eyes were ever on the moon as we walked out into the darkness. My nervousness was so strong that I was nauseous, knowing that it would only be a matter of minutes before I was lurching in pain, the wolf taking over, devouring the woman.
When we were several yards away from the cabin, Rex stopped, facing me. I watched him curiously as he pulled off his shirt, the light of the moon hitting his bronze skin, making him look more desirable than ever. Would Rex be the one I mated with tonight? A pathetic part of me hoped so.
“Take off your clothes,” he told me when he noticed me staring.
“What?” I was shocked by the absurd request.
“If you don't, you'll be spending all afternoon tomorrow sewing them back together. I don't think you want that.”
“Oh.” Rex made a good point. Reluctantly, I grabbed the hem of my shirt. “Turn around,” I told him, though he was obviously not paying any attention to me, too busy taking off his shoes and socks.
Rex paused for a moment, giving me an incredulous look. “It ain't like I've never seen a naked woman before. I'd advise you to drop the modesty. By tomorrow morning, there ain't gonna be a single set of eyes on this reservation that hasn't seen you naked.”
“I don't care,” I said firmly, disturbed by the thought. “I don't want you seeing me now.”
“Less talking, more stripping. The moon ain't gonna wait for you.”
It was obvious he had no intentions of turning around, so I did instead, working to get my clothes off as quickly as possible, having already wasted too much time arguing with him. The forest was eerily quiet once the rustling of our clothing stopped. There were insects chirping, but beyond that, all I could hear was Rex's breathing. I knew he was looking at me, and that thought sent tiny tremors throughout my body, secretly wondering if he liked what he saw.
“It's almost time,” Rex's voice was soft, almost comforting.
I kept my eyes to the moon. It looked full already, but it must not be if the pain wasn't raging through me yet.
“Trust me,” I heard him say, and then I felt his hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me around to face him.
As much as I didn't want to take my eyes off of the moon, I knew that if Rex wanted me to turn to him, then it was for a good reason. Obediently, I faced him. Our bodies were so close together that I could almost feel the heat coming from him. My eyes looked up into Rex's, full of fear. His were as cool as ever.
“Just breathe slowly and focus on my eyes. You'll be alright,” he told me, and I believed him.
Finally, the tremors began. Pain ripped through me, though it didn't seem as intense as last time. Something about staring into Rex's eyes soothed it. My mind was occupied with his reaction. Never did he waver or show signs of discomfort.
I watched in fascination as Rex's eyes changed. The green of them exploded in a sunburst, spreading, taking over. The lashes around them thickened, the skin turning black as his face began to morph from man to animal. He was terrifying yet beautiful at the same time. My last thought before losing consciousness was that I wished I could have shifted with as much grace as Rex had.
The night was no less confusing than the first time I shifted. There were bouts of clarity littered with panic. Every time I awoke, I was somewhere different: a field, near a river, on the side of a cliff. All around me were bodies, people I knew from the reservation. They all looked as disoriented and afraid as I was. And then the pain would come again, the moon peaking out from the clouds, sending us all into a frenzy of screams and howls as the wolf took back over.
Every time the forest greeted my eyes, I feared that the pain would follow. This was the part of the shift that truly made me want to die, and I knew that I wasn't alone in that feeling. The agonizing cries of my fellow werewolves said it all.
Finally, I opened my eyes to wisps of sunlight through the trees. While the anxiety of being torn back into werewolf form was still there, I knew it was over. The moon could not hang onto me while the sun was around.
We were lying in the forest, somewhere I hadn't been before. All around me, the naked bodies of those I had known from the reser
vation were waking. Despite myself, I looked at each of them, trying to pick out who was who. Half of them were still unconscious. Many were coming to at the same time that I was.
Then my eyes landed on Chris, his mop of sandy blonde hair moving as his eyes lifted to meet mine. While I wanted to turn away, I couldn't. His gaze was blank. Deadpan. Chris wasn't so much staring at me as something on me, and a shift of my body told me that someone else was near.
I turned to find Rex nuzzled against me, his arm touching mine. By the time I looked back to Chris, he was already standing up, and my heart sank with longing desire for him. How bad this must look to him? But did it really matter? We hadn't seen each other in almost a month.
Oddly, no words were said as the other werewolves began to wake. Rex was lifting his head, and as our eyes met, he smiled at me, filling my heart with a strange warmness, putting it back where it belonged. This was my life. He was my life. And I knew, beyond a doubt, that my place was by his side.
Slowly, everyone stood and got their bearings about them. All the while, no one spoke. Maybe it was the awkwardness of the situation. Perhaps it was a silent understanding that I hadn't learned yet. We simply looked at each other, acknowledging one another, and then Rex and I parted from the rest of the group, him leading the way back into the forest.
I gave Chris one last longing glance over my shoulder, and for the first time, I saw emotion in his eyes. He was upset that I was leaving, but he was too much of a coward to say anything about it.
My eyes caught a glimpse of Emmett, staring at my backside as we walked away. There was something different about the way he looked at me, and after a few more steps, I realized that he wasn't looking at me at all. He was looking at Rex. All the werewolves were looking at Rex, and as I turned to see what they were staring at, a strange understanding came to me, a secret whisper inside of my head. Rex was the true alpha. They were seeing him off out of respect.
The thought filled me with awe as we proceeded into the forest and out of sight of the other werewolves. For a moment, I thought to speak to him about it, but I knew that he was every bit as exhausted as I was and probably not interested in making conversation. Rex rarely felt like talking when he was tired.
We continued to walk through the forest in silence. There was no doubt in my mind that Rex knew where he was going. I, on the other hand, was completely lost.
Now that I was a human again, I had all the discomforts of being one. My bare feet were sore against the sharp stones and sticks on the ground, and I winced with every step, trying to keep up. It reminded me of running from the base of the reservation all over again, except for instead of blisters on the bottoms of my feet, I had to worry about cuts. How Rex could stand it, I didn't know.
“Slow down,” I said finally, pausing to pick a bur out of my foot. As I lifted my leg to knock the bur out, I Iost my balance, tumbling over onto my side.
“Be careful,” he chastised me, walking back to grab me by the arm and pull me to my feet.
My legs were weak, and as he stood me up, our bodies met, my breasts pushing firm against the hard muscle of Rex's chest. If my cheeks could have gotten any brighter, they would have burst into flames. Everything in me wanted to pull away from him—to shove him off of me, but I couldn't.
Hesitantly, I looked up into Rex's eyes. They were different—gentle. In that moment, he was just a man, and I was just a woman, and we were alone together, naked in the woods.
I parted my lips to speak, but he silenced them with a kiss, hungry and primal and rough. Yet despite Rex's aggression, I wasn't afraid. Everything in me wanted this—needed this even.
He backed me up against a tree, and my hands rose to wrap around his neck, holding him while he lifted me. The bark of the tree hurt my back, but the feel of Rex pushing inside of me melted that away. We both looked a mess, with twigs and leaves in our hair and dirt covering our bodies, yet I had never felt so sexy in all of my life.
Rex made little noise as he pressed into me, the only sign of his pleasure his heavy breathing. I muffled my blissful cries, fearful that my voice would carry across the forest to the others. They were far away now, I knew, but I was still paranoid.
After a while, Rex laid me down on the grass, and I caressed his face, worshiping his lips with mine, my fingernails trailing lightly over his firm muscles. When I could tell he was getting tired, I rolled on top of him, grabbing his hands and placing them on my breasts. Rex grinned like a fool, looking younger than I had ever seen him before, and I almost couldn't contain a giggle. He let me stay on top until he couldn't contain himself any longer, spilling his seed inside of me.
We lay in the grass together, breathless, happy. My body had secretly wanted this for so long. I think his had too. All I knew was that I didn't regret it, and I hoped there was much more in the future.
“We should get going,” Rex whispered, running his fingers through my hair a final time before pushing himself into a sitting position.
“Are we far away?” I asked, thinking of how I didn't want to be back on my feet.
“Not too far. Maybe two hours.”
I groaned, not caring whether Rex heard me or not.
“I can carry you,” he offered hesitantly, as if he felt awkward for even suggesting it.
“That's not necessary.” I smiled warmly.
We walked hand in hand back to the cabin, unashamed of our nakedness. I had never expected to find love on the reservation. I had never expected a lot of things to happen. But they had, and my life had been changed completely, never to be the same again. Despite all the hardships though, I wasn't unhappy.
Most women searched their entire lives for a man like Rex. One who would protect them when he said he would, one who would never stray or cheat, one who knew how to survive in tough situations. Rex might be a bit crude around the edges, and certainly no prince charming, but what good is a prince charming when you're a werewolf. On the Blackfoot Werewolf Reservation, an alpha beat a prince charming any day of the week.
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Marla Braziel enjoys writing paranormal fiction. Vampires, zombies, and werewolves have always fascinated her, so she brings them to life in her writing, trying to portray them in new and unique ways.
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Also By Marla Braziel:
The Vampire at Sunset High
Zombie Wars
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A Month with Werewolves (The With Werewolves Saga Book 1) Page 18