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

by K. R. Alexander

  Kage snorted. “Not afraid of cats.” He flopped back, having taken the opportunity to move almost on top of me.

  “I didn’t say you were afraid. I just want you all to be sensible out here. There are bears, porcupines, creatures you’ve never—Kage!” I struggled out from under him, crawled over both him and Jason with much difficulty, and came to rest against Jason instead.

  The others listened to shrieking coyotes—or Kage and me wrestling—in silence.

  “Was just being friendly,” he mumbled again.

  “Sorry…” I was once more breathless.

  “There…” Zar said softly as one of the screaming family burst into a longer, more real howl. Others followed, but the whole thing mostly stayed yaps and sharp cries.

  “We’ll want a cougar trail also,” Jason said. “And a bear. You’re right. We need to know what’s out here.” He rested an arm around my back and I curled in gratefully to his chest. Kage also reached over him to slide his fingers into my hair.

  “Yes.” I sighed. “But don’t get too curious. This is no house cat. Keep away from snakes also. You know that, right?”

  “Only the rattlesnakes,” Kage said.

  “I’m not even sure there are rattlesnakes at these elevations, but there are other venomous snakes in the west. Just assume the worst and keep clear of them as much as the cats and bears.”

  “When will we sniff total wolves?” Kage asked.

  “They’re in Wyoming. For all we know there are wolf shifters here, though. More likely than wolves in Brighton. So keep them in mind as you search. Any shifter here would surely be able to point us toward shamans.”

  “Unless they’re gits,” Kage said. “Unfriendly.”

  “Let’s also assume the best of American shifters as long as we can.”

  “Hey, Sparky?” Jason whispered, amused. “Ever chased a six-foot cat up a tree?”

  They snorted.

  “That’s exactly what I mean about being sensible. Anyway, you’re pandering to stereotypes. There’s no reason you shouldn’t be able to get along with a cat. Joseph and his family raised cats on their farm.”

  “Yeah—” Kage made a derisive noise at that as well and I rather thought I heard another from the bunks, maybe Zar. “But he’s a nutter, isn’t he? Goats and chickens all over the place. Not surprised he’d keep yowling rattraps around.”

  “I happen to like cats. I’d been thinking once I was settled into my new job and had my own rental I’d find a place that was pet-friendly and adopt a cat from the shelter. They make lovely familiars. I grew up with dogs around, but they were my dad’s sporting dogs. Nana had a cat. I suppose I’ve always wanted a cat, really.”

  Silence. Even the coyotes had quit yapping. The cabin, the campground, the whole night, was quiet.

  Kage withdrew his hand from me.

  An owl hooted.

  “Really?” I snapped at last, speaking aloud into the dark cabin.

  “Sorry,” Jason mumbled.

  “It’s all right, Cass,” Zar said. “If that’s … how you feel. Everyone … their own.”

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Andrew said. I hadn’t even realized he was paying attention.

  “Goddess.” I twisted against Jason, rolling to my other side. “You guys. Give me a break. Cats are wonderful, resourceful, intelligent animals.”

  “Probably someone in the world who’d say the same thing about cockroaches,” Kage said.

  I heaved another sigh as I came to rest on my right side—and found myself nose-to-nose with a huge, dark figure beside the bed.

  I’m not a screamer as a rule. Maybe a quick yell or exclamation if matters were really serious. Or a gasp for small alarms. So I was embarrassed, even in the moment, as I screamed for the second time that night, leaping backward into Jason, scrambling across the bed, terrified at the hulking someone inches from me.

  If the coyotes yelping had produced a quick response from my pack, my letting out a scream in the dark caused a stampede.

  Crashes and bangs, swearing and something in Lucannis. I hit Jason. Jason bashed into Kage. Someone fell on our bed.

  “Bloody hell!”

  A light switched on.

  It was Zar scrambling over the bed to get to me. Isaac had clicked on the kitchen light—which was also the bedroom light. Andrew was hopping around on one foot between the bunks, swearing and holding his foot. Kage’s nose streamed blood after Jason’s skull had bashed it. Jason had his arm protectively around me.

  There, as everyone recoiled in the light, was Jed. He sat beside the sofa bed, blinking from the noise and light, where he had apparently been watching me. The space between bed and wall was so tight he could only be right beside the bed if he wanted to be there at all. Presumably he’d been going to sleep in that corner. But, first, a nice long stare at me. Maybe he hadn’t expected me to roll over. Or he didn’t care.

  I cared. Unfortunately, I cared far more than I should have. If he hadn’t terrified me, made everyone else react because of it, and therefore embarrassed me until I felt the soles of my feet were blushing, I wouldn’t have been so awful to him. It was all in the moment, though, and I responded before even a fraction of a second to think.

  “Jed! What the hell is wrong with you? Stay away from me! And stop watching me! Go sleep by the door!”

  Jed hunched against the wall, still hardly an arm’s length from us.

  “Are you all right?” Jason was panting.

  Zar asked, “Was there a spider?”

  “It was just him—that—staring at me. Go!” Gesturing at Jed.

  He slunk through the narrow passage, body bunched, head low, looking neither right nor left, his ears flat, past Zar and the foot of the bed.

  “Take that verus bone with you,” Andrew ordered. “Nearly cleaved my bloody foot in half.”

  Jed did not pick up the steak bone as he passed Andrew and Isaac between the bunks, but made his silent way to the cabin door. He pressed against this, bit the round knob, then looked to Isaac.

  “You can’t go out,” I said, shaken and already regretting both my words and tone. This added to the feeling that I wanted to burry myself. “No one’s going out alone.”

  Isaac got paper towels for Kage’s nose. Andrew kicked the bone after Jed, who growled at him as it bounced off his fur. Zar appeared ready to fawn on me, remaining on the bed, asking if I was all right, but I also told him to go.

  By the time everyone was back to their places and the light was out, only Kage remained sitting up, applying pressure to his nose. Jason had lost interest in me in the wake of needing to soothe and apologize to Kage. Andrew still muttered about his foot.

  I listened to Jed circle and curl up on the filthy doormat.

  My heart pounded. Now, though, I felt many other things, and much, much worse than mere fright or embarrassment. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I was the one who was PMSing and needed to take a look in the mirror.

  I’m sorry, Jed. I’m sorry. Sorry.

  In another ten minutes everyone really was settled. Andrew’s foot okay. Kage’s nose stopped bleeding. Hush returned, no talking, only a distant owl.

  In half an hour I was still wide awake—forget the fatigue. Wide awake, even more embarrassed, twisted up with an aching remorse and inability to act on it, but also shame and self-deprecation for my own situation. These people were looking to me as silver. This wasn’t a schoolyard. We were supposed to be responsible adults. Lives were in our hands. While I was supposed to be the most responsible in the land.

  Was this how I was going to react next time Andrew played a trick on me? Or Jason did something that may or may not have been calculated to hurt myself or others? Or Zar was hanging on me too much, or Kage was overly comfortable with public displays of affection, or Isaac lost his temper with one of his packmates?

  If this was the best I could do for them, I had no right to be here at all.

  I didn’t know how long it had been, or who all was asleep,
while I remained as awake as if strapped in a virtual reality ride.

  Finally, I turned over once more on my side. The sofa had an almost flat arm and I eased my pillow over to it. Kage and Jason shared the other one behind me.

  “Jed?” I whispered from the edge of the bed, ever so soft. “I’m sorry. You’re welcome to sleep over here if you want to.”

  I wasn’t at all sure he would still be awake. Though I suspected, if he was, he wouldn’t accept such an invitation. So I was surprised, yet extremely gratified, when I heard him stand from the front mat.

  I couldn’t see him until he was right beside the bed, again pacing down the narrow corridor between sofa and cabin wall. Just a hint of the dark wolf in the touch of light through windows.

  He paused, head higher than mine, he was so massive and the bed so low.

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated in as soft a whisper as I could. “I had no right to snap at you like that. I was scared and I made a mistake.” I reached out, not having meant to, and stroked his bear-like head. His coat was very thick and somewhat rough, though softest around his ears.

  He took another step and pressed his muzzle against the blanket, then lay down there beside the bed with a sigh.

  It took me a moment to feel that he’d left his steak bone on the bed for me. I set this wet and sharp object up on the sofa arm so it wouldn’t fall off and—Goddess forbid—make a loud noise in the night. Then I leaned more into the front of the arm so I could stroke his head and ruff.

  I wanted to ask him about the staring. I wanted to tell him he needed to enjoy his time here. I’d thought he was the most excited of any of them to come to a place like this. So what gives?

  I just lay there, running my fingers down his head and neck until I finally fell asleep.

  I’d forgotten all about lucid dreams.

  I remembered when I saw the coyote. She sat upright in white fog, smiling at me, eyes hooded, lips curved, making me think of Andrew. Only she was doing it while she had pointed ears and whiskers.

  Hello again, I said as I walked up. Can you help me? I’m looking for a shaman.

  Can you help me? she asked, lips moving as she spoke. I’m looking for a witch.

  I’m a witch. I’ll be glad to help if I can. Are you a shaman?

  What is a witch doing in a wolf pack?

  What is a talking coyote doing in my dream?

  She smiled more.

  Are you a shaman? I repeated.

  Tell me, witch, what do you want on your tombstone?

  What? I gasped, starting back, and blinked to discover the sky beyond the little cabin window was gray—dawn already upon us.

  Chapter 7

  I withdrew my right hand from warm fur, while my whole right arm was freezing, and curled down in the blankets beside Jason. The sleeping position had left me stiff and sore, besides cold, and I hoped for another hour or two of sleep before having to face the day.

  Once more, I lay awake. I gazed at the window as the sky turned from dusty purple to a softer gray-blue. The sun would be up any minute.

  Thinking of the question in the waking world, I at least understood it came, not from malice—a feeling almost of a death threat—but from more inside jokes. The conversation between Kage and myself in The Abyssinian a few days ago.

  He had known what he wanted on his tombstone. Kage knew exactly how he wanted to be remembered, what he wanted in life. I’d thought I did. Right up until a month ago I’d wanted to be a great teacher and a great mother. I had so many plans for my own future I could fill notebooks with lists of them. I even had some ideas of what I wanted to name my kids.

  But that had been a month ago. Now … I didn’t know me anymore.

  Isaac had asked me early on what my favorite place was. Zar had asked me about favorite quotes. Kage had asked me who I wanted to be.

  The fact that I didn’t know these answers scared me now as much as the suddenness of the question had scared me out of context from the coyote.

  Get up. Move. Shower. One last date with running water. Get the phone to work—I’d seen campers the evening before standing out on a particular jutting ridge at the edge of the parking lot holding up their phones for signals—and locate the best big breakfast in Estes Park. Then we were going to find that coyote. Maybe even find out who I was in the process.

  First, though, I had to get outside.

  I had my toiletries wrapped in my outfit for the day—plus towel rented with the cabin and my bathroom flip-flops—on the kitchen counter, all ready to go, grab and head for the shower. I wasn’t sure how to get it in a stealthy and silent fashion, however, because there was a wooly mammoth taking up my whole bedside walkway, stretching, nose to tail, as long as the sofa bed.

  Jason and Kage remained asleep. I hoped everyone else was also, though wasn’t certain. We had some long hours ahead and I didn’t want anyone waking to an alarm this morning.

  Still, I finally gave up where Jed was concerned, unable to crawl off the bed at its foot without making a racket and disrupting my bedfellows.

  “Jed?” Hardly a sound, reaching again to touch the coat—the color of a decadent brownie.

  He raised his head.

  This made me remember the steak bone and I offered it to him as I whispered, “I need to get up.”

  He obliged by heaving himself to his paws and bowing into a luxurious stretch before he took the T-bone from my fingers. He backed out of the narrow passage and I eased out of bed after him.

  I tiptoed to my things in the gloom, slid on the flip-flops, and was just congratulating myself on a church mouse escape, when I realized Jed had every intention of accompanying me.

  I shoved his nose away with my palm as I edged out the door. “You can’t come out like that. Change in here first. Then you can all have a shower if you want one. This might be our last chance for a while. Breakfast whenever everyone is up and ready.”

  I inched the door shut in his face while Jed stared at me, wide-eyed and apparently traumatized by my words, bone still in his jaws.

  Had he thought we’d have a nice shower together?

  I didn’t see any other campers up yet, but they may already be around the showers and, if not, would be soon. He knew better than to think he could come out like that this morning.

  Still, I felt guilty as I hurried, shivering violently, for the concrete outbuilding. How did it get so cold?

  I’d become much too used to a Portland climate. The summers could be blistering and nighttime made them pleasant, not bitter.

  That sun would be up any minute now and make a world of difference.

  When I heard the door open behind me, I was startled enough by the timing to look around.

  It wasn’t a neighbor camper, but my own cabin.

  Jed, changed to skin, carrying his rucksack and a towel, followed me out.

  I don’t know why the fact that he was totally naked, right down to bare feet, was some kind of shock. I doubt it ever even crossed his mind to yank on some boxers or stick his feet into his shoes before opening that door when all he was coming outside to do was walk to a shower.

  Then again, I’d been easily alarmed lately. I suppose it all fit in.

  I very nearly ran at him, flapping my hands to send him back inside like a naughty dog.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed. “You’re supposed to put something on before you come outside in skin.”

  Jed scowled at that and didn’t answer. He’d previously told me he hated clothing. And he didn’t need to spell out that no one else was around.

  “Come on then. The guys’ side is around there.” Waving him to the right. “I’ll see you back out here shortly.”

  Jed, aside from petulant, was unperturbed. My face was burning, the rest of me still icy, by the time I got into a shower stall, however.

  The shower was not all it might have been. Hot, but running on a timer, it was a struggle to deal with the thing. Then a nightmare to dry and get dressed in the freezing bathroom. I
took about two minutes on my face, threw the towel around my hair and shoulders, then got out of there as quick as I could into blissful morning sun just over the eastern horizon.

  Jed was waiting for me, surprising me that he’d bothered not only to shower, but to shave when he just had a couple days ago.

  He looked incredibly awkward standing there at the corner of the gray building while mundanes were now moving about. Shoulders hunched, back to the sun, dressed, his bag strap and towel over one arm, glaring at the gravel as if it had insulted him. He was handsome, powerful and square-jawed, but I’d grown so used to him with the three-day beard I missed it. The black stubble suited the bad attitude.

  Yet, why the bad attitude now? What was going on with him? He’d been excited to come. He wanted to be here. When we’d been in Yorkshire, he’d stayed off in the wilderness alone all he could, skin or fur. Why was he here waiting for me instead of out walking around, even in skin?

  Was he nervous here? Did he just want to be with me? Was he looking for something from me? Some guidance?

  Our relationship had been strained from the first moments we’d met. Ever since then it had grown more confusing. There was an attraction and a contention. A friendship and a disconnect between two species who did not understand one another.

  Why had he brought me flowers in Cornwall, then turned around and threatened me with his teeth? Why had he taken every opportunity to insult me and the rest of them to me, then showed me the Beech Pack when he would talk to no one else about them? Why did he follow me, worry about my safety, watch me, play fetch with me, then still behave as if he was being punished as he waited here for me?

  I had plenty of theories and answers about Jed. But my experience with Kage last week had reminded me to ask, listen, and never assume I understood all someone else was feeling simply from outside observation. Anyway, this was Jed. Silent, repressed, Scorpio Jed.

  Scorpio is death and rebirth, change and journeys into the next life. When a Scorpio is blocked, his natural impulses are turned inward and become toxic for himself and those around him. He must be allowed to reach his potential or become an underwater volcano. He is savage not because he is wicked-natured but because he is kept on a chain.