Moonlight Journey: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 6)

by K. R. Alexander

  Onward to a local pet store.

  They’d been out of the packs at REI, but we found two huge canine backpacks suitable for Alaskan Malamutes—a breed I’d researched online and been ready to say we had.

  “You must put up with a lot of fur.” The young woman smiled as she showed me the backpack options.

  Which got me thinking. Particularly about Kage’s magnificent coat and how much he enjoyed and needed attention. Others as well.

  “What are your best recommendations for that?” I asked.

  While she indicated slicker brushes and shedding blades, the rest wandered—Isaac with the backpacks, Jed poking a vast array of toy balls, the others out of sight.

  I had picked out a large slicker and was heading back through the store when I noticed the long aisle of dog toys. That yellow ball hadn’t been big enough for them. I didn’t really have space for brushes and toys in my backpack. Remembering them in Yorkshire, though, I couldn’t help a Kong ball and a brightly colored, chunky rope with knots in it.

  Jed had moved on and Kage came up—chewing.

  I frowned at him.

  He lifted a flying disk off a wall hook and flexed it experimentally, swallowing.

  At first, I thought I’d better not ask. Then, there was Zar at the end of the row, also just popping something in his mouth. No … I probably should ask.

  “Uh, Kage? What are you eating?”

  He waved vaguely, then bent the disk back and forth. “Free samples.” He replaced it to test another disk.

  “What?”

  “There’s a whole area there in the middle of the shop.”

  “Samples of … dog biscuits?”

  He shrugged. “That why they’re so stale? Worms around here must not like dogs.” He turned to me, holding up the disk. “How far could you throw that?”

  “Oh … farther than a ball. Want to try it?” I put the rubber ball back and took the supposedly super tough, puncture-resistant disk from him. “I’ll get it for you. To share, okay? Could you show me the samples?”

  “Want one?” He led me to the open bins of treats in many varieties, with paper bags and a scale at one end.

  Zar was still there and Andrew was just helping himself to a peanut butter heart.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa—wait a minute. Those are not samples.”

  Zar and Andrew looked around.

  “That’s bulk buying. You fill a bag. Like the hot food in the grocery store. Then you pay up front.”

  “We wondered why they had so many out…” Andrew munched the peanut butter heart and made a face. “Bloody stale and dry.”

  Zar reached for a bag.

  “No!”

  He jumped.

  “You shouldn’t be eating that. I got you a box of cookies.”

  “You did?” Zar smiled.

  “Not for right now. I’m only saying: people food. I mean … I don’t think that stuff will hurt you, but it’s … yeah. Please don’t eat those—even if they were free samples. Anyway, you just said they’re no good.”

  “The cheese one’s all right,” Zar said. “But the chicken and oat—” He made a face.

  “How many did you eat?” Then again, I should have been thankful no one had their head in a bin. “We should pay something for them. Although … I’m not sure…”

  “How you’d explain that the reason we don’t have any on us to purchase is they were already gobbled by your invisible Malamutes?” Andrew asked.

  “Yeah…”

  “Sparky—” Jason, breathless, burst from around an end cap to him. “Look.” His hands were full of an enormous stainless steel prong collar, an equally large basket muzzle, and two thick, black leather leashes.

  Kage took a step back, eyeing them suspiciously. “The hell’s that?”

  “What do you think?” Jason laughed. His eyes were gleaming. “Isn’t it beautiful?” He held the prong collar up below his own chin.

  “Hunt Moon,” Kage murmured. “They don’t dislike dogs around here. They bloody hate them. What sort of sodding place is this?”

  “Do you think this strap is long enough?” Jason lifted the muzzle instead.

  It was wonderful to see them back together after the terrible rift that had lasted several days because of me. Yet…

  “Put that rubbish away, princess,” Kage muttered. “Can’t even carry any—”

  “We don’t need to take it out with us. Or just some—”

  “Put it back—”

  “What about my birthday?”

  “What?” Kage frowned.

  “It’s coming up.”

  “Your birthday’s not until February.”

  “That’s coming up. Just these?” Jason shoved the muzzle strap onto a wall hook of cat toys behind him and offered up the leashes and collar.

  Kage still gave him a dubious look but checked the tags. “Bloody hell—”

  “It’s not that much. Dollars, remember. It’s like a discount.” Jason still smiled at him, but the expression and tone had changed: sweet, wheedling.

  “We don’t have cash to burn on this, Jay. Running skint.”

  “I’ll wear it. I’ll wear it all day so no one has to carry it. And just one lead. It’s perfect, Kage. I love you.” Jason leaned into him, shifting his goods to wrap a hand around the back of Kage’s neck, drawing him close so their foreheads were together. “I can’t wait to wear it with you. I love being here with you. It’ll be my only souvenir of the trip. Feel that. Isn’t it brilliant? Feels like it’s made for a bear.”

  Somehow the prong collar had ended up in Kage’s hands. He regarded it irritably, hefting the weight. “Suppose…”

  “I can’t wait. Yesterday was worth it, wasn’t it? I know we’re here for the pack. We’re here for so much more than us. But I’m glad to be here with you anyway.”

  “Only—” Kage pushed the collar at him. “Put those back. Get one of the cheap nylon ones. Forty dollars for a lead? They’re barking.”

  “Sure. It’ll be lighter also, in the backpack. And won’t hurt it to get wet outdoors. Good thinking. I’ll put these back. And the muzzle. You’re a good silver, Kage.” Jason kissed him, then snatched the muzzle and hurried back the way he’d come to swap out for a nylon leash.

  “Andrew—”

  “That was the last one, darling. Had to try it.”

  It was one of the cheese biscuits that Zar had said were superior.

  A few minutes later I checked out with two dog backpacks, a disk, a rope, and a brush. Right behind me, Kage checked out with a $39 prong collar and a heavy nylon leash—which was probably what Jason had been banking on after negotiations anyway.

  Our last stop in Boulder was frozen custard. Luckily, the little shop sold it by the pint so everyone could have their own. All besides Andrew and myself, who had it fresh. I got a small chocolate cone and he got a large caramel sundae—over which he shook a copious amount of salt.

  Then off for Estes Park in time for a barbecue dinner before this mission got underway with a little less food—a lot more fur.

  Chapter 4

  The leggy, smooth-coated, red wolf crept into the open glen around the pond, bathed in evening sunlight, and froze. His large ears twitched against mosquitoes. Otherwise, he did not move, one paw suspended in midair. His amber eyes were focused unblinkingly on his prey.

  A jet black wolf stood in the pond halfway to his chest, nose poised an inch from the surface, head cocked as if listening to the water. At his flank, a larger, heavy-coated wolf with a classic mottled coat in many shades, gazed apathetically around. His face was already soaked and he clearly had no interest in the whole endeavor, especially if it led to more water—showing moral support more than actually helping.

  The black wolf stiffened, then plunged his head into the pond, taking a great snap. Even his lightning speed was no match for the bluegills within.

  When he came up empty-mouthed, the larger wolf gave him a commiserating wag and edged away, studying the surface wh
ile inching back to shore. With all attention thus on the water, the red wolf once more stalked forward.

  One silent step, then another: crouch.

  The black wolf waded farther into cool water. He pounced.

  The red wolf burst forward. He dashed over the parched ground, leapt, and, as the larger one looked quickly to follow the water pounce, the red wolf hit him in the back and side. The bigger male was hurled into the black wolf and both plunged through murky water. There was a yelp, an explosive spray, a thrashing of limbs, and the two wolves, soaked from nose to tail, streaked in mud and algae, struggled back onto the dry, cracked bank.

  By the time they were on their feet and looking around—one growling, both bedraggled and shadows of their former noble selves—there was nothing to see through the brush but the vanishing flash of red and white fur and a black-tipped tail rocketing off into the forest. All that seemed to linger behind was a phantom of what might have been laughter.

  The growler shook, spraying the black one in the face, then stalked up the bank to throw himself into golden grass and roll.

  The black wolf also shook, then waded back out to return to fishing.

  “Zar?” I sat up from the jacket I’d been lying on, pulling away from him. “What if a documentary filmmaker or wildlife photographer caught you all? What would they think?”

  “Think?” Deprived of my contact next to him, Zar shifted on his side to push up the edge of my shirt and kiss the skin at my waist instead of nibbling along my neck.

  “You’re all … odd. You know? You look like total wolves. Just a bit large, I think. But you could still all be taken for wild wolves. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? Wolf legends, famous wolves like the Custer wolf… Do your people have any stories about that? About shifters taken for total wolves, and their contact with mundanes?”

  “Sometimes.” He kissed the small of my back, along my spine toward my tailbone, making me shiver and pull away.

  “Tell me one.” I moved from him so I could see his face.

  “One what?” Zar followed, up on his elbows, going for my stomach instead.

  “A story about a shifter mistaken for a total wolf, or wolves, at some point in not so distant history.”

  “Have you heard the one about Little Red—?”

  “I mean it, Zar.”

  “You taste like bug repellant.”

  “Sorry. I wasn’t thinking about some guy licking it off, but it’s all natural and safe. Don’t worry.”

  “I’m not worried.” He was pushing my shirt higher as he licked the sweat-damp skin from my naval toward my bra.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to change? We need to start back soon. You still have time to change—unwind—before we’re stuck in the cabin together.”

  “After that it will be all fur—finding shamans. Time later. I’d rather be with you.”

  His tongue reached the band of my bra between my breasts and he kissed that. “Stay with me tonight?”

  “I’m staying with all of you tonight. We’ll be in bunks.” I moved away again.

  He had to sit up to follow this time. He kissed my shoulder, then neck. “Space for two in one bunk.”

  “I have a sneaking suspicion there’s not. But we’ll find out soon enough. Zar—” I stopped. Zar wasn’t actually the problem right now. Instead, I turned my head sharply to glare. “Will you stop that?”

  Zar flinched back.

  “Not you. Him.” I flung out my arm.

  Twenty feet away, the blackish/brownish wolf sat with his head hunched down like a vulture, staring.

  Zar looked uneasily between us. “What’d he do?”

  “Watching us. He’s been like that for twenty minutes. He’s creeping me out.”

  “Oh…” Zar still hesitated, as if struggling for a solution. Unable to come up with one, he leaned back in for my neck. This was where I’d been liberal with the bug balm. However, Zar would probably have licked peppermint toothpaste off my neck.

  “Do you need something?” I asked.

  The dark wolf lifted his head and looked away for the first time since Zar and I had settled here. He gazed blandly across the pond.

  “Jed?”

  He twitched an ear and didn’t look at me.

  I sighed.

  Zar found my mouth with his.

  I pushed him away. “That’s disgusting—”

  In a flash, he wiped his mouth on his own T-shirt, then returned with most of the bug repellant removed. His lips were hot, newly dry, insistent. I opened my mouth for him, beginning to savor the feel of his tongue on mine and his hand below my shirt. But … no. I could also feel that gaze drumming into me like needles. Again.

  “Jed!” I jerked around from Zar. “You’ve come halfway around the world to be in the Rocky Mountains, for Moon’s sake! Go … run around! Chase an elk! Dig! Have a swim! But stop staring at me!”

  Both Jed and Zar stared even more.

  Jed flattened his ears, lowered his head, and slunk off into the forest.

  My outburst had attracted attention from the two at the pond as well. The fishing expedition had finally been abandoned. Both trotted along the bank, then up through the brush toward us.

  Zar sat back, taking my hand all the same—an unmistakably possessive gesture as his eyes were fixed on the other wolves. These days, he wasn’t so nervous about his brother going for him because of his relationship with me. Everyone knew about Zar and myself. And Isaac, Kage, and Jason and myself, for that matter. So less concern that Jed might attack him in a fit of rage. But these two sweeping up to us still made him show his insecurities by clutching me in both hands.

  “Sorry to shout,” I said. “It’s been getting under my skin. What’s he mean by it? Was he trying to intimidate you?”

  “Jed? Trying to intimidate? Like that?”

  “I suppose he’d take more direct action. Hi, Jason. Sorry you didn’t get a fish.”

  “He didn’t need one.” Zar sounded irritated that I would allow Jason to butt in on our moment. “Only messing about. We had a bang on dinner thanks to you.”

  I would not be distracted back to him. “Kage? Remember, this was in fur. You’re not going to push Andrew off a cliff later, are you?”

  Jason was only dejected, still dripping and fish-less, but Kage looked murderous—growling under his breath when I mentioned Andrew’s name.

  I pressed my lips together to keep from smiling at Kage’s appearance. It was pretty epic, really. Like running a lion through a car wash. His sopping, mud-matted fur made it look like he’d lost forty pounds.

  “Anyway,” I went on, “we should start back for the cabins. It would be nice if we could get a look around before dark.”

  “Then you’ll have a go at seeing the shamans?” Zar asked. “Before we set out in the morning?”

  The other two also looked at me on these words, ears pricking.

  “Zar, I’ve told you. I don’t feel like I should scry any—”

  “I know, Cass, but you also said they’re targeting scrying for them. If you scry for the killers. So … where’s the magic? It’s not … on you. It’s on them. Does that make sense? I don’t know much about how caster magic works. But you’ve told us what’s happening and it sounds like they’re protected from being scried. Not that they’re … reaching into your scries.”

  We’d been back and forth about this in the past days. Right before the trip and also here as we’d hiked out to this place an hour from campsites and cabins on foot, half an hour even from the trail we were supposed to stay on.

  The thing was … I didn’t know.

  I knew there was a problem with my scries. I knew it was magical interference from someone else—some other witch or mage. But that was all I knew.

  I didn’t have Nana to ask. I didn’t have a handy spellbook lying around with answers. I had very few contacts in the magical community at home in Portland, plus notebooks crammed full of my old school notes. Entire notebooks on scrying. Interference w
as mentioned in those school notes. That, though, was the extent that I could remember. Of course, such notebooks and contacts were a hell of a lot closer today than they had been forty-eight hours ago.

  We had no return ticket yet. We just knew we had to work fast because people’s lives were in danger—the South Coast Cooperative crumbling from losses and panic. Anyway, we hadn’t come to America to visit home. First and foremost, we had to be here for shaman shifters—who we had many reasons to believe could help us.

  A wolf’s nose could find them. Here. Not in Portland. If only we could get that nose close enough. Which came back to my job in the pack. What if we didn’t get close enough? What if my wolves didn’t turn up any shifters?

  To scry? Or not to scry?

  If this magical tap on my scry actually could infect what I was seeing—see what I saw, plant messages, or in any other way effect me negatively beyond simply blocking themselves from my sight—I couldn’t risk continuing to scry. Not without knowing for sure. A risk like that—spied on, contaminated—made me want to never scry again.

  Yet, if we couldn’t find shamans any other way…?

  They were all still watching, Zar clasping my right hand with both of his, sitting close on the parched ground. Jason also near, cocking his head. Kage a bit back, having turned his glare from the forest edge to me.

  “Not yet,” I said softly. “I’m not scrying unless we run out of options. Lucid dreaming, the visions I’ve seen before… You all being able to track and search… I think we can find them, and quickly, without scrying.”

  Jason rested a big, wet paw on my shoe and Zar squeezed my hand.

  “You’re right, Cass. We’ll find a shifter out here. Shaman or not, they’ll lead us to more.”

  “That’s what I think.” I returned the pressure and reached my left hand to rub Jason’s muzzle. “One of my spirit guides came to my dream last night and gave me gifts that make me think we should be searching together on foot. Which we’d planned anyway. Also, she seemed to suggest we go by night. That part will be even more up to all of you. I’m not much use on a moonlit trail. And there was a bird. A songbird I’d never seen. I should try to figure out what it was.”