Moon Child: A PNR Shifter Romance (The Year of the Wolf Book 2)

by Serena Akeroyd

  “I figured that when I was locked inside my cabin for days on end, thanks to a rampaging hyena person, well, thing,” I retorted gruffly, folding my arms across my chest as I glared at her, not appreciating her holier-than-thou tone. “You never know what you can do until you test things out.”

  “There’s testing things out, and then there’s turning into a wolf,” she grumbled. “What if you hadn’t been able to turn back?”

  “I knew I could. I leaned on your she-wolf for help.”

  “On mine?” Her frown reappeared. “I didn’t feel that. I didn’t feel like you were weakening me in anyway.”

  I shrugged. “I’d have continued in that vein, whether you were weakened or not.”

  “Gee, thanks.”

  While her words were peeved, her eyes twinkled, and I shot her a smile I knew could be defined as cheeky. “You’re welcome. We had to save Daniel, didn’t we? And that’s what happened, didn’t it? He’s still here, in the schoolroom, learning whatever it is young shifters learn—”

  “How to multiply?” She smirked at me. “They can shift. They’re not born learning their multiplication tables and what adjectives and nouns are.”

  I wafted a hand. “You know what I mean.”

  Her smirk faded as she warily asked, “How did you think turning into a wolf would protect him?”

  “When I acted, I doubted you’d be weakened. I was borrowing, not stealing. I felt certain the two of us could protect him against anything, and we did, didn’t we?”

  “Yes. Except, not with strength.”

  I scoffed, “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. You could barely walk,” she teased. “Not sure you’d have been ready to defend Daniel’s honor with fang and claw. Anyway, you deflected his attention because he recognized you for what you are, not because you were a silver wolf.”

  “What am I to him?” I asked uneasily, not liking the gleam in her eye.

  “His mate.”

  “His mate?” My nose crinkled. “Hardly.”

  “You were. I saw his aura reaching out to you.” She tipped her head to the side. “I saw your aura for the first time yesterday, by the way.”

  “You’ve never seen it before?” Now that came as a shock. “In all those years?”

  “You know I buried the gift for as long as I could.”

  “Some things won’t be buried.”

  “No, they won’t,” she agreed. “But never looking someone in the eye goes a long way to helping that.”

  “Shifty Sabina,” I taunted, giving her the nickname she’d had wherever we traveled.

  “Thanks for the reminder,” she grumbled.

  “That’s what sisters are for.”

  “Yes, and for being pains in the asses.”

  “I take both roles seriously,” was my pious retort.

  “I’m sure you do.” She sucked in a breath before she asked, “Lara?” I hummed in the affirmative. “Do you remember the Lindowiczs?”

  “Yes. Of course. How could I forget?” I shuddered. “They used to come visit every Thanksgiving and we had to eat with them.”

  “You know I was promised to one of them, don’t you?”

  “Naturally.” Even though everything about her statement was totally unnatural, the prospect of an arranged marriage to the Lindowiczs had been as normal as night following day in our house.

  “Do you know why Father was indebted to them?”

  “Because he’d blown everything we had on the Kentucky Derby? I think he used to try to tell us it was some kind of turf war,” I pshawed. “But that was just for street cred, I think. You know he consisted of more pride than hot air, and that’s saying something.

  “I’m just glad our trust funds were tied to our being married, otherwise he’d have spent them before we hit ten.” Crap, maybe even eight. Mother’s family had been wealthy, and they’d tied her to father because, as King of the Roma, the leader of our so-called clan, he’d appeared wealthy too.

  Thankfully, they’d tied their money up in inheritances for her children or we’d never have seen a cent.

  She pulled a face. “I spent mine on medical bills.”

  I tipped my head to the side. “You were sick?”

  “Yeah. For a long time.” Her smile was tight, the memories of her suffering not having faded yet. “I’m well now, though.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” I told her sincerely.

  Her smile peeped out. “Me too. It wasn’t fun.”

  “I’ll bet.”

  “You’ll never guess how I stayed afloat…”

  “How?”

  “Fortune-telling at a carnival.”

  My brows lifted but I had to giggle. “Please tell me you had to wear one of those stupid costumes.”

  “Oh, I did. My wardrobe consisted of nothing more than scarves for a while.”

  Snickering, I told her, “Well, it’s more traditional than what I’ve been doing… writing SEO articles online.”

  Her nose crinkled. “Staid.”

  “Well, you know I like things to be boring.” I shrugged. “It barely kept me afloat, but not having to go out made it more than worth it.” Looking around the uncomfortable as hell formal living room, I murmured, “I guess money hasn’t been an issue for you for a long time.”

  “No. Not for a while.” Sabina’s brows lowered. “Funny how things change, perceptions with it. I never thought about father using that whole turf war lie as a shield. I thought the money issues and that were tied together.”

  “Nah. You forget, I used to be at home more than you. I listened in on most of his conversations.”

  She snorted. “I swear, no matter how hard I worked to keep you out of trouble, you always found a way to get back into it.”

  I shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do?”

  “Watch cartoons?” When I rolled my eyes, she asked, “Do you ever wonder about how he repaid his debts? Or did you hear anything from his phone conversations?”

  “Well, I knew you were a payment—wife and trust fund, why wouldn’t they want us?” I told her calmly. While the notion was sickening, equally, it was something I’d accepted long ago.

  Just as I’d known that I’d end up a Lindowicz wife at some point too. It was one of the reasons, after our father’s death, I’d run and I’d only ever called mother from a phone booth and given her the address of a PO Box, so that if they came for me, and asked about me, she’d only be able to give them that.

  Which prompted me to ask, “How did you get my number?”

  “I called Mother. I left the particulars to Eli. I know he called on another pack for a favor in retrieving you though.”

  “I only gave her a PO Box address.”

  “Eli and the packs have ways of finding out such matters, I have to assume, considering you’re sitting here and aren’t hyena food.”

  I shuddered. “True. I wonder who killed the hyena. The guys who found me came after he was dead and gone.”

  She winced. “That’s a long story.”

  “We have all day, don’t we?”

  That made her sigh. “I’ve been having dreams. About a cackling beast—a hyena, I presume—one I kill with a bow and arrow. That night, before I called you, my she-wolf attacked the creature. In my dream.”

  My stomach plummeted. “The hyena had an arrow to the heart and had been mauled.”

  She gulped. “Yes.”

  “That’s got to be a coincidence.”

  “Has it?” Sabina caught my eyes with hers. “The dream was important. I knew it was to do with you, I could just never figure out how. I realize now that it was leading up to my being able to protect you. To my bringing you here. And now I know you’re mated to Choi, I think it all fits. Don’t you?”

  “We’re not mated.”

  “Of all the things I just said, that’s what you’re focusing on?” she complained.

  I pursed my lips and decided a change of subject was required. “Why all the questions about th
e Lindowiczs? There’s no way of knowing what crazy stuff was going through father’s head. His brain was pickled even before the Alzheimer’s worked its number on it.”

  “Because I realized something last night.” She soothed herself by stroking her fingers over Knight’s head. “Your energy is different than mine and Cyrilo’s.”

  “In what sense?”

  “When he died, I looked into him, into his being, and I mistook what I saw for his nature. His energy was black. I thought that was because he was an evil man. Then, after what happened with Seth, I saw a reflection back at myself through your eyes. Mine was also that color. Yours, on the other hand, is white.”

  “Blood ties?” I asked, my tone clinical.

  “I think so.” She bit her lip. “I’m constantly learning about my new powers,” Sabina admitted. “I don’t know how I do half of what I can do, if I’m being honest, and when I learn something, I don’t always know how to repeat it because it’s instinctual.”

  “That makes sense.”

  “Does it? I’m glad it does to someone, because to me, it’s incredibly frustrating.” A heavy gust of air streamed from between her lips. “Last night, I was exhausted still, but this morning, over breakfast, I tried to see into my mates like I did with Cyrilo. Austin and Ethan share a color, but Eli doesn’t. They were mothered by the same woman.”

  “The inference being that we share a mother, but you and Cyrilo share a father?”

  “Yes.”

  Though the information rocked my world—in a good way—I asked, “What color do they share?”

  “A kind of violet. In my mind, they’re orange and green respectively, but when I looked, deep into their being, I saw a violet. Eli? He’s maroon usually, but his blood, his spirit I guess, is blue.”

  “What about Knight?”

  Her eyes flared at that, and I realized she’d never thought to look into her son. When she tilted her head down and stared at him, her gaze turning misty with gold and white swirls in a way that reminded me of swift onset cataracts with how foggy her irises turned before the miasma dispersed as quickly as a cloud crossing the sun, and she looked back at me, whispering, “Blue. Like Eli.”

  “Auras aren’t as superficial as you first thought?”

  Slowly, she shook her head. “No. Maybe they were before. But everything’s different now.

  “With the pack, I can feel their heartbeats, see their auras and a light—the heartbeat tells me they’re alive, but the light tells me they’re connected to the pack. Their aura tells me their mood.

  “With my mates, I can see their mood, their light is colored, but their blood also has a hue. I think that’s something to do with family. Otherwise, I’d see it in everyone, but I don’t. Only those who are tied to me.”

  “Patrilineal blood,” was all I could think to say. From father to child.

  She cleared her throat. “Considering what I know about pack culture, that’s more interesting than you can imagine.”

  “Why?”

  “They celebrate a deity known as the Mother.” Sabina grew tense at that, and her focus diverted to Knight—a self-comforting gesture if ever I’d seen one. “I’ve communicated with her.”

  I sat up at that, more intrigued than she could know to hear such news. “What was it like?”

  “Nothing like you could ever imagine,” she whispered, nibbling her lip again. “The Father isn’t beloved like the Mother though.”

  Humming with interest, even though I knew she wasn’t really focused on the curiosities of her new culture, I said, “I can see why you’d be perplexed.”

  “Yes. But I’m perplexed about several things.”

  “How mom would cheat on father when she was terrified of him? How father, no matter how low he sank, after a very short while, would find himself back on his feet?” I nodded. “Yes, they’re questions that need answering for sure.”

  “Especially when I don’t think you’re his child,” she whispered.

  “That’s nothing to mourn,” I told her, candid to the last.

  “No. It isn’t. But would you say it’s logical to conclude that he owed the Lindowiczs enough to promise me to them, my trust fund with it, and when I married Kian and ruined that plan, he was angry enough to call for my death?”

  “Yes.” I pursed my lips because the leap wasn’t illogical so I asked, “You think he pimped her out?”

  “I can’t see her cheating on him.”

  “No. Of course not. Not unless he sanctioned it.” Anger filled me, but I released it only with a mildly spoken, “Bastard.”

  “And she loved him so much,” she replied, her tone mournful.

  “She was a fool. That’s why I want nothing of love, Sabina.”

  My harder tone of voice had her frowning. “You don’t have to worry about that, Lara. A mate bond goes deeper than love.”

  “I don’t want that either. It was attraction. Nothing more, nothing less.”

  She huffed. “You say that like you can avoid it. I saw it with my own eyes, Lara. His spirit called to yours. And like I said, he’s family because of you, otherwise I wouldn’t have seen his energy.”

  Staring at my lap, I muttered, “What color was it?”

  I heard the smile in her voice as she told me, “Have you ever been to Massachusetts in the fall?”

  I scowled at that. “What does that have to do with it?”

  “Have you or haven’t you?” she groused.

  “Yes. I have,” I groused back.

  “Think of the leaves just before they fall from the trees.” Her smile was deep. Warm. Happy. For me.

  I gulped. “He’s grounded?”

  “Yes. Very. Strong, careful as a leader. It goes deeper than just his aura, it’s a part of his being. He would be a good partner.”

  The words ‘for you’ went unspoken.

  “I don’t need a partner.”

  “You’d be surprised what you need when you find the one.”

  Sniffing, I chided, “Just because you’ve let three men into your panties, doesn’t mean I’m ready to drop mine.”

  She gaped at me. “Did you just call me a slut?”

  Had I?

  Shit.

  I shook my head quickly. “No! I didn’t mean that. I just meant we’re different, Sabina. I don’t want that. I don’t want a man in my life.”

  “You’d never tell from how you looked at him last night,” was her cold retort, and I regretted the chill in her voice. Regretted it deeply.

  Wincing, I muttered, “I didn’t mean to offend you.”

  “Well, too bad, because you did,” she whispered, getting to her feet and twisting around to head for the door. “If anyone could understand the need to reach for all the happiness you’d never had, I thought it would be you, Lara. Looks like I was wrong.”

  I didn’t say another word as she swept out, just let her go, because my words had been cruel. Unintentionally so.

  Yes, her situation was unorthodox, and yes, our family would have shunned her for being with three men, but my family could judge no one.

  If Sabina was right, our mother had been whored out to pay for our father’s debts, Sabina had been sold along to the Lindowiczs as another down-payment on money owed, and I would probably have endured a similar fate if I hadn’t run away from home when our father had started to lose it.

  My eyes prickled with tears that I rarely allowed to fall. Crying was a waste of energy, and I didn’t stand well with self-pity, but I hadn’t meant to hurt her. Not after everything she’d done for me so far.

  “Why’s the omega crying?”

  I jerked at the question, but when I saw the alpha from last night enter the room, slipping inside like a ghost, my eyes widened. “What are you doing here? Eli told you to ask for a formal invitation, didn’t he?”

  “He did. I asked, and he agreed.” His smile was small, but beautiful nonetheless. He had the richest brown eyes you could imagine. Deeper than the darkest of chocolates, and with st
riations that bordered on bronze and gold that intertwined as they met his pupil.

  His nose was strong, his jaw firm. His brows were a deep jet black, but his cheeks were clean shaven. Last night, he’d had the makings of a beard. Not just stubble, but a few days’ worth of growth. His shirt was neatly ironed, a rich burgundy that offset his pale skin, and his jeans were new, as were his boots.

  He wore simple things, but they were of good quality, and he was dressed, in his own way, to impress.

  Only, there was no artifice.

  He wore no expensive watch, neither did he wear any rings. His belt had a regular buckle, even though I could tell it wasn’t inexpensive because it was made from good leather. If anything, his cufflinks were the sole item that was of any merit in his outfit. They were opals that gleamed whenever the light hit them, flashing orange and green when he moved, taking a seat on the sofa where Sabina had just been resting.

  “I didn’t think you ended things in a friendly way last night,” I rasped, crossing my legs as nerves filtered through me. “Why would he let you back onto his pack lands?”

  “You’re very accepting of something that’s new to you, aren’t you?” he queried, and I’d admit to finding a strange kind of peace in how calm he was.

  His emotions might very well be high, but he wasn’t broadcasting them for everyone to see.

  I liked that.

  More than I had any right to.

  “I have no choice but to accept things that are new to me,” I told him, aware that he wouldn’t let the subject drop without an answer from me. As serene as he was, I sensed, equally, that he was determined by nature.

  “Why is that?”

  “Why are you so calm?”

  “There’s no point in being angry.”

  “Why not?”

  “You say that when your temper is held well in check?”

  “I have my reasons. I was raised in an angry household. I had no desire to continue that kind of misery into adulthood.”

  His eyes narrowed at that. “Your father has a lot to apologize for.”

  His anger was real. A slow burn emotion that wasn’t erratic. Wasn’t volatile. It soothed me even as I registered it was unnecessary, and I told him as much, “He’s dead now. No point in wasting any emotion on him.”