Moon Chosen Box Set (BBW Werewolf / Shifter Romance)

by Mac Flynn

  I chanced a look back and my mouth dropped open. This side of the Old Den was built like a medieval castle. The rough blocks rose a hundred feet into the air and stopped at the top where I glimpsed battlements. On either side of the entrance and fifty feet of the road were rounded towers that jutted out from the stone walls. The walls above the wide stairs were punctuated only by tall, narrow windows with arched tops. The windows were adorned with broken stained glass.

  I stopped and pointed at the glass. "Who are they?"

  Erik didn't stop, but instead made his way to Teagan. "Past kings, but we should hurry. The boat's waiting for us."

  I couldn't help but linger on that empty road before that large edifice of fallen pride. I don't know why, but it tugged at my heart to see such a once-grand place become a depressing mockery of its former self. Those broken stain-glass portraits stared down at me as though pleading for something to be done before they completely perished.

  A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, and I started and spun around. I found myself staring into Greg's long face, and I could see a reflection of my sadness in his eyes.

  His voice was quiet, but among that dead I heard it perfectly. "They call to you, don't they?" he asked me.

  "'They?'" I repeated.

  He nodded at the windows. "The kings."

  I followed his gaze and shuddered. "How can they? They're just glass-" I paused and turned to Greg. "Right?"

  Greg cast his eyes on the many faces above us. "The Master used to hear them, too, when he was young, but he stopped listening when his father caught him out here and beat him."

  I frowned. "Why couldn't he be out here?"

  "Lord Greenwood warned of loose stones, but perhaps he heard their voices, too," Greg mused.

  I blinked at the old servant. "What voices?"

  He nodded at the broken glass above us. "The wind plays some strange tricks with those broken panels. Sometimes it's almost like you can hear them calling to you."

  I felt the color drain from my face. "They. . .they aren't alive, are they?" I asked him.

  "What's the matter?" Erik called from a dozen yards down the path from where he stood with Teagan.

  "Nothing, Master," Greg replied. He took my arm and led me away from the wall and those peering eyes. "We should obey the Master," he told me.

  "But are they?" I persisted.

  Greg smiled. "What do you think?"

  I leaned back and frowned. "I think you're nuts."

  He chuckled and bowed his head. "Thank you for the compliment."

  By this time we reached Teagan and Erik. Erik looked between us and the towering walls behind us. "Don't dawdle again. Only one of the assassins died in the cavern," he reminded me.

  "Yes, Mother," I teased. I glanced past Erik at the road. The way stretched out before us and there were miles between the docks and us. My feet ached just looking at it. "Got any horses around here?" I asked him.

  "No, and the way isn't too far," Erik replied.

  I snorted. "Speak for yourself. . ." I muttered.

  Erik ignored me and turned to Teagan. "Take the rear and I will take the lead."

  Teagan bowed and stepped in back of Greg and me. Erik marched us down the long, winding, descending road.

  I glanced back to Teagan. "Where's Lillian?"

  "Safe," he assured me. "She sends her regards, and pleads for you to be careful."

  I grinned and gave him a salute. "Will do. That is, if I don't get killed."

  "Then that would certainly be breaking your word," he pointed out.

  I shrugged. "There's just no stopping some assassination attempts."

  "If there are any more attempts than Gethin will reveal his sphere of influence," Erik spoke up.

  "That'll be very comforting for my dead body," I quipped.

  "They will only be attempts," he promised.

  I leaned to the side to look past him to the road. "Like there'll be only a few short miles to the dock?" I teased.

  "They would be shorter if we sprinted, Master," Greg spoke up.

  "Can she sprint so soon?" Teagan wondered.

  "Who? Me?" I asked him.

  Erik glanced over his shoulder and studied me. "I don't believe so. She will have to be carried."

  I scowled back at him. "Oh no. No carrying for me. I've got two legs and I'm-"

  "I can carry her, Master," Greg offered.

  "Nobody's going to-"

  "I will do the chore," Erik insisted.

  "I said nobody's going-"

  Erik spun around and swept me into his arms. "Hold onto me," he advised me.

  "Put me doooowwwnnnn!" I screamed as he turned to face down the road.

  Erik rushed forward with such velocity that I wondered if this was what astronauts felt like in the gravity capsules. It certainly felt like one of those mad carnival rides where you're pressed against the walls of the spinning machine, but without the fun. I clutched onto him as we swept over the rocky, uneven ground. Yards were covered in a second, and my face was covered by my now-annoying cloak. It whipped my face like a slave-driver and I had a hard time pulling the corners out of my nose.

  "Mind going a little slower?" I yelled at my mate.

  "Yes," he shouted back.

  I cringed when we flew over a sizable pothole in the road. "Thanks!"

  The miles were covered in half the time my slow legs would've needed. We crested the final hill and I had my first clear look of the grand docks of the ruling island. It was depressing. The long docks were in the same disrepair as the one on the mainland. Old posts rose from the murky waters as silent witnesses to past glories. The planks between them were long gone, washed away by waves and time. Thirty yards beyond the ruins lay the heavy fog that perpetually surrounded the islands.

  Only one dock was in any condition to walk on, and on that one we found a small yacht with a cabin. The steering controls were above the cabin, and the bow had a few boxes of what I guessed was provisions.

  "Is that the only boat you guys have?" I asked Erik.

  "There was once a fleet, but it was in great disrepair by the time the kingship was revoked, so they scuttled the ships near the island on which they were built," Erik told me.

  We also found Lady Greenwood waiting for us on the dock beside the boat. She wore an emerald-green cloak and a smile on her face.

  Teagan passed her with a bow of his head and walked over to a man who held the ropes to the boat. Erik walked up to his mother and there was a frown on his lips.

  "What are you doing here?" he questioned her.

  "Can't a mother see her children off on a dangerous quest?" she wondered.

  Erik pursed his lips and shook his head. "The island is no longer safe. You could have been-"

  Lady Greenwood held up her hand and shook her head. "I know the dangers, but I refuse to live in fear. The Council does enough fearing for all of us." She looked past Erik at me and studied my cloak. The Lady swept past him and grasped my hands in hers. "I see Gregory's craftsmanship hasn't waned. You look wonderful."

  I smiled and shrugged. "It'll work."

  "Mother, I must insist you return to the Den," Erik persisted.

  Lady Greenwood sighed and dropped my hands. She turned to her only child with a resigned smile. "I will return to the Den with Teagan." She stepped towards Erik and gently laid a hand on his cheek. Her eyes looked into his and searched for something. "You will be careful, won't you?"

  Erik smiled and clasped her hand in his. "As careful as we can be," he promised her.

  She chuckled. "That's no promise to make to your worried mother."

  "It's the only promise I can give," he returned.

  Lady Greenwood let slip her hand and sighed. "You're very hard on your mother. I haven't come only to wring promises from you." She reached into her cloak and brought forth a small booklet. The worn, frail cover spoke of a great age. She held out the booklet to Erik, who took it with a raised eyebrow. "A little something for you to read on the trip."


  Erik glanced between the book and his mother's smiling face. "This isn't for pleasure," he reminded her.

  "Nor is the reading, but get to it when you have the time," she insisted. She turned to me and pulled a small bag of skin from her cloak. "And this is my gift to you. I hope you won't have use for them, but if you do then I hope they will get you out of trouble."

  I took the bag and opened the drawstring mouth. I peeked inside and wrinkled my nose. "Dried meat?" I asked her.

  She smiled and nodded. "Yes, but not for you to consume. Give it to friends when you're in need."

  "Other werewolves?" I guessed.

  "You'll know when the time comes," she told me. The Lady turned her attention to Greg and removed a smaller bag of skin from her cloak. "And a few more beans from my own collection."

  Greg took the gift and bowed his head. "A thousand full moons to you, My Lady."

  "The winds will change against you if you don't hurry," Teagan announced from the ropes.

  Lady Greenwood bowed her head to us and took a step back. "A safe journey, and may your wolf protect you."

  "We'll see you soon," Erik promised as he set his hand under my arm and guided me towards the boat.

  CHAPTER 3

  Greg shuffled along behind us and we stepped across a board and onto the fine ship. The white paint was new, the ropes were fresh and the engine was shiny with newness. The board was pulled onto the dock and the ropes were unlashed and tossed to us. Erik took the controls and started the engine. We backed out of the ship's berth and into the narrow expanse between the dock and the fog.

  Erik turned the bow of the ship towards the fog and pressed the gas pedal. We sped forward into the gloom. I stood at the railing and glanced behind us. The last view I saw before we were engulfed by the fog was Lady Greenwood on the dock. She had her hand raised in farewell. Then she was gone, swallowed in the darkness of the fog.

  Or rather, we were swallowed by the fog. The thick, white fluffy stuff wrapped around us like a thick towel fresh from a cold wash. Visibility was limited to the ship. Anything beyond that was lost to the fog.

  I shivered and wrapped my cloak closer to myself. "So how often does this fog go away?" I spoke up.

  "On those nights when it doesn't sense danger," Erik told me.

  "So how are we supposed to see where we're going now?" I asked him.

  He tapped his finger on the top of a table beside him. I noticed there were heavy papers covered in plastic on the top. "Maps and a compass."

  "How modern. So do I need to bring an abacus for the calculations?" I quipped.

  "No need. Hundreds of years of sailing on these waters have given to us," he replied.

  I slumped over the railing and watched the non-view pass by. "So where are we going again?"

  "To Market Island. Information as well as goods are sold there," Erik explained.

  I raised my head and looked to Erik. "You werewolves aren't very inventive with your island names. Is there a Farmer's Island and a Boat Island, too?"

  "Only as nicknames. The others are less plain," he assured me.

  I shuffled over to the boxes at the bow and seated myself on one of them. Greg shrugged off his large backpack onto the deck and took a seat on a box beside me. We faced Erik as he stood at the wheel. His every concentration was now on the maps and the controls.

  My eyes narrowed and flickered to Greg. "So are those glass paintings alive or what?" I questioned him.

  He turned to me and grinned. "You are very persistent, Sophie."

  "You are very badly avoiding the question, Greg."

  "If I was to say they aren't?"

  "Then I'd say you were lying."

  "Then if you have already made up your mind why ask?"

  I leaned towards him and studied his smiling face. "You're really smart for a servant, you know that? Maybe too smart."

  He bowed his head. "Thank you for the compliment."

  I snorted and leaned away from him. "Maybe it wasn't a compliment."

  "Then I thank you for the insult."

  "You're also too sassy for a servant. Were you a cat in a past life?"

  "That would make my life as a werewolf very ironic."

  "Yeah, and a bit of a downgrade, at least according to the cat," I commented. I paused and furrowed my brow. "But that still doesn't answer my question. You said those glass things talked, so are they alive or not?"

  Greg looked past me at the fog and nodded his head in that direction. "We're coming upon a fine view of the lake."

  My curiosity was strong, so I allowed myself to follow his gaze. My eyes widened as the fog to our stern raised to create a ceiling fifty yards above us. In front of us the way was open and revealed the extent of the lake. It was enormous. From shore to shore I didn't doubt it was fifty miles across and at least twice that long. Wolf Island behind us sat at the widest part of the lake that was more egg shaped than rectangle. The other islands sat in a long line from Wolf Island down to a small speck in the far distance. Trees sprouted from most the islands and I glimpsed houses along many of the shores. Some, the smallest, were barren but for shrubs and the sharp rocks that made up the shores.

  "How the hell is fog hiding all of this?" I whispered.

  "Whether on foot or in the air, the fog diverts the curious by sending them around the shores," Greg told me.

  "Yeah, but this big?" I gestured to the lake. "Shouldn't somebody be wondering why the maps aren't agreeing or something?"

  "They may have suspicions, but what are suspicions without evidence?" he pointed out.

  "A big headache," I commented.

  He grinned. "Exactly, and they are left with that and nothing else."

  I whistled. "That must've been one hell of a witch to cast a spell this large."

  "Quite powerful, if the tales told of her are true," Greg agreed.

  I turned to him with a raised eyebrow. "What tales are told of her?"

  Greg stroked his short beard. "Many, and no doubt there's some truth to those lies. She was offered a large sum of gold to hide the lake. The task took her a few years to complete, if I recall the stories correctly. When the fog spell was cast it was said to be so powerful she nearly exhausted her magic."

  "Where'd they find a witch that strong?" I asked him.

  He shook his head. "That no one knows. She appeared from nowhere, and returned to there when the deeds were done."

  I frowned. "'Deeds?' What else did she do?"

  Greg turned in his seat so he faced the front. "We'll soon be at Market Island. In my youth travel was much slower and it took several hours to move from island to island, and a full week to get to one end of the islands to the other," he mused.

  He was right. An island nearly as large as Wolf Island loomed above us and I could see a small port in front of us. The docks that jutted out into the island were in perfect condition, and dozens of small and medium-sizes paddle boats lined their sides. Some sat with boxes in their bows and bellies, and others were being emptied or filled. The port thinned where it met land and followed a winding road up a gradual hill to a small town on the crest. Tall trees were allowed to hang their green branches over the road and created a sort of tunnel effect. Warehouses built of wood lined the front street of the town, but large and small stone houses jutted out on either side. Erik steered us in that direction and cut the engine so we drifted forward towards one of the empty berths.

  I grabbed Greg's collar and yanked him back so we were almost nose to nose. My serious eyes bore into his that were filled with humor. "Oh no, you're not getting away with answering this question just because we're about to dock. What else did the witch do?"

  "She cursed the werewolves so that no women would be born of them."

  I dropped Greg and spun around to find Erik behind me. I blinked at him. "Come again?"

  "Werewolf males are incapable of producing a female werewolf," he rephrased.

  I tilted my head to one side and raised an eyebrow. "Seriously?" He
pursed his lips together and his eyebrows crashed down. I held up my hand. "Okay, seriously. But why did she do that?"

  "Her payment was less than she asked because the queen convinced the king her price was too high," Erik explained.

  "So she goes and puts another curse on werewolves?" I guessed.

  He looked past me at the docks and nodded his head. "Yes. The last female werewolf born to our clan was four hundred years ago."

  I furrowed my brow. "So is that why you have to steal women? Because you can't make any of your own?"

  "Unfortunately, that's correct," he replied.

  I winced. "Damn. That's-well, that sucks."

  "That's an understatement, but we have other concerns," Erik commented. "Gregory, help me with the ropes."

  Greg and Erik picked up a couple of the anchor lines. I turned around and saw a few rough-looking men on the dock approach our boat. They wore soaked, short-sleeved shirts and ragged pants. Erik and Greg tossed the ropes to the men, and they hauled us in with the practice of years. The ropes were lashed to the anchor posts on the dock and Greg picked up his bag.

  Erik picked up the plank and placed it on the dock. He took one step on the board when one of the dock men stepped to the other end.

  "You're from the Den, aren't ya?" the scruffy man asked us.

  Erik paused and frowned. "We are. What of it?"

  The men looked among themselves and I didn't see love for Erik's information. The leader at the end of the plank shook his head. "Yer not wanted here."

  "Why not?" Erik challenged him.

  "Because you're nothing but trouble. You lord over us from that old crumbling castle and do nothing about these earthquakes," the man explained.

  "There won't be any more earthquakes. The source was stopped. Hasn't your representative told you that?" Erik asked him.

  The man shook his head. "We don't know about that. All we know is our houses are all cracked and nobody's got any explaining to tell us, so if you know what's good for you you'll go away and let us at least live in some peace."

  I felt Greg tense beside me and reach into his jacket. Erik didn't look away from the dock dog as he held out his hand to Greg. "We'll only be here for a short time, and then we'll leave. Will that be satisfactory?"