Untamed (Dark Moon Shifters #2)

by Bella Jacobs

  “Mice can sneak under an alarming number of doors. You never know when that might prove useful.” Dust smiles as I pop the cheese into my mouth and chew soberly, refusing to dignify that remark with a response. “But I understand this is frustrating for you. Once we’re settled, I’ll have more time to help with that part. I’m obviously not dealing with the range of options you are, but I had to relearn how to shift later in life. I remember how unpredictable it was at first, and some of the tricks that helped me gain control. We can work on those together in the afternoons, once Luke has worn you out in the sparring ring. I found that at first, the more tired I was, the easier it was to slip my skin. The less the brain’s involved, the better.”

  I brush my fingers off over the plate and unscrew the top on my water. “That reminds me of what I wanted to talk to you about. I had another dream while you were gone.”

  I fill Dust in on the message from my father and the part of my mother’s message I initially left out, then lean back against the side of the compartment, sipping water and waiting for his thoughtful expression to become something he’s willing to share.

  I can tell he isn’t upset that I withheld information—enhanced empathy is a comforting thing at times—so I’m happy to wait, watching the glow of passing streetlights flash on his face as we near a town big enough to light the road beside the highway.

  We ended up heading east, though I’m not sure how far we’re going. Cree assured us that he’ll “know our place” when he sees it, and for once, no one wanted to argue.

  We’re all tired. None of us have been sleeping well. We need to find safety and establish some sense of routine before we’re too exhausted to be of use to anyone.

  Finally, Dust tucks his increasingly long hair behind an ear and offers softly, “Your father was right. I’ve never life-fasted before, but I’m willing to try. But I’d like to talk with my parents first. I’ve got to reach out to them about arranging transport for Carrie Ann, anyway. I can ask for advice on how to manage it then. I do know there’s a certain amount of risk involved.”

  “What kind of risk?” I ask, draining the last of the water from my bottle.

  Dust exhales. “Um…madness? General brain damage?” He laughs, his eyes twinkling into mine. “If one partner is mentally stronger than the other, they can accidentally push things too far. It can have some messy results.”

  I bare my teeth. “Yeah, so maybe we shouldn’t do that.”

  “Don’t discount it yet. Let me talk to people I trust. It might be fine. And it would have benefits aside from figuring out what might be locked away in my head from those years with the Parsons. What better way to teach you how to shift than for you to experience those memories with me, as if you were in my body?”

  I lengthen my legs out along the mattress, toes wiggling. “Sounds intimate.”

  He dips his chin closer to his chest. “Well, yes. I’m sure it would be. Is that a problem? Getting that close?”

  “No. Not a problem.” I shake my head, lips tingling as memories of yesterday’s kiss—our first kiss—flit through my thoughts.

  I’ve never been alone in a bed with Dust, and though I’m way too tired for anything more than sleep, I would like to lay down beside him, to hold him, our arms and legs tangled together as we drift off. I want to feel his heart beating steadily beneath my palm and relish the comfort of knowing at least one person from my past is going to be a part of my future.

  Because Carrie Ann has to go. Soon.

  It isn’t safe for her, or us, to have her along for the ride.

  “Why do you think Highborn left Carrie Ann at the safe house?” I drop my voice to a whisper. “Even after he knew we’d found the tracking device and ditched the Hummer? I mean, there was a good chance we weren’t going to show up there at all. I understand ‘he was delivering a message’ is the prevailing theory, but the more I think about it, the less I buy that.”

  Dust leans closer, his elbows propped on his knees. “That’s been bothering me, too. As well as something else…” He reaches into the back pocket of his suit pants—only Dust would choose suit pants and a button-down shirt rolled at the sleeves as road trip attire—and pulls out his wallet. “I found these at the house, tucked under a board by the fireplace. It was one of the places Celeste liked to hide things when she was designing a safe space, so I knew where to look. I didn’t show them to Creedence. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  He hands over a small stack of passports, most of them U.S. blue, though one is burgundy red. United Kingdom, I realize, as I flip the oddball open to reveal Dust, looking even more serious than usual. “Archibald Knowlton? Good Lord.”

  Dust smiles. “Not the best alias I’ve had, I’ll admit. But wait until you get to yours.”

  I flip through two more—Kite alias Curtis Freemason and Creedence aka Flynn Baxter—until I find myself. I press a fist to my lips, stifling a laugh.

  “I told you.” Dust gives my knee a teasing squeeze. “Dearest Mildred, I hope you will allow this humble Archibald the honor of taking you for tea and scones at your earliest convenience.”

  “I love tea and scones, but…” I huff. “Mildred Munchin? Seriously? I sound like I’m a hundred years old.”

  “Two hundred. Mildred hasn’t been a common name for over a century,” Dust says, his tone sobering as he points toward the last passport. “But that’s where the real trouble is, I’m afraid.”

  I hold his gaze. “What is it? Is Luke’s out of date or something? You know he’s only sticking around to get across the border.”

  “Open it,” he says. “You’ll see.”

  With a bracing breath, I open the final folder to reveal…a stranger.

  “Who is this?” I hiss, eyes wide as I search Dust’s face.

  “Diego Garcia, alias Lucas Rivera,” Dust murmurs. “The real question is who is that?” He points deeper into the camper, where our wolf sleeps with his fingers curled into a fist.

  Only he might not be our wolf at all.

  And the shifting sand beneath our feet just got even more unsteady.

  Chapter 15

  Wren

  Somehow, I fall back asleep, tucked against Dust in the small spoon position as the gentle rocking of the camper lulls us into unconsciousness. But once again, I wake up alone.

  For a woman with four potential mates, I do an awful lot of that.

  When all of this is over, I would like to wake up with someone I love still in bed beside me, I decide, as I spread up the covers as best I can in the cramped quarters. It’s a simple wish, but it’s something to fight for, to look forward to in the event I live to see my twenty-fifth birthday.

  Crawling to the bottom of the mattress, I draw back the curtains to reveal sunlight and stillness. We’re parked somewhere very quiet. Even when I strain my ears, clicking into that wide range of hearing now available to my shifter side, all I can hear is the breeze, birdsong, and a faint rushing in the distance.

  A river or a creek, I’m guessing, the thought making my heart feel lighter. I showered before we left the hotel, but shifting always makes my skin feel too tight. A swim sounds luxurious, and I can’t help hoping we’ve reached our final destination, not just a pitstop along the way.

  I maneuver the three rungs down the ladder to the floor and bend to pull on the tennis shoes someone has placed there for me. The movement brings my face low enough to peek into the bottom bunk, where Sierra is still asleep, her thin arm flung over her face. A glance at the microwave clock reveals it’s barely six. Still early, but everyone else is already out and about.

  Including Luke.

  Or whoever he is.

  Dust and I agreed not to say anything to the others—or to Luke—for now, at least until Dust gets in touch with the members of the L.A. pack who delivered Luke to make sure there hasn’t been some sort of innocent mix up. But it’s not going to be easy to keep my new knowledge from affecting the way I look at the wolf.

  I was starting to admir
e him, damn it, if not necessarily trust him or agree with all his choices. Yes, he shot an innocent man, but he did it to protect me, the bears, and the rest of our people.

  Or so I’d assumed.

  But now…

  Now, I don’t know what to think, except that I’m glad to see Carrie Ann bright eyed and bushy tailed—literally, her tail looks incredible this morning—as I walk by her cage on the way to the door. “Hey? How are you feeling?” I whisper, reaching for the door to her cage. “You want to come outside with me?”

  She shakes her head and backs to the corner of the enclosure, wrapping her small paws tightly around the bars before shaking her head again, more vehemently this time. “All right, that’s fine.” I lift my hands, signaling that I respect her decision to stay wherever she feels safe. “I’ll bring you something to eat soon.”

  Her shoulders relaxing, she nods and curls up again, her tail looped around her small body.

  I have to shove my shoulder into it a couple of times, but the door to the outside world finally pops open, spilling me out into a picture-perfect postcard of a day, with crisp, cool air that smells of sweet grass and honeysuckle, and a view that takes my breath away. We’re parked in a copse of trees at the edge of a wide field atop a mountain at the edge of the world.

  Or at least that’s what it feels like.

  Turning in a slow circle, I can’t find a sign of life anywhere on the surrounding hilltops or valleys. Nothing to hint at human habitation except Da Beige and what looks like an old cabin leaning drunkenly against a large tree a bit deeper into the forest.

  I’m studying the cabin, wondering if it was built crooked or gradually got that way over time, when Kite circles around the side of the building. The moment he sees me, his face lights up, and I know right then.

  We’ve found it. Our home away from home.

  “How’s the well?” Creedence asks from behind me.

  I glance over my shoulder to see him approaching through the grass wearing nothing but a smile, and I blush. The parts of him I have yet to see up close are covered by the corpse of the large turkey he’s holding in front of his hips, but there’s enough of him on display to make me hot all over, from my cheeks to my toes and everything in between.

  “Good,” Kite replies, coming to stand beside me, looping an easy arm around my shoulders. “Spring fed and clean. It will be a pain in the ass lugging buckets to the kitchen, but it could be worse.”

  “And the cabin?” Creedence shifts his attention to the tilting structure as Dust appears in the doorway.

  “The back porch is rotten, and there’s something clogging the chimney.” Dust thumps the heel of his hand on the doorframe. “But it’s in better shape than I thought. Nothing a good scrubbing and a few fresh boards and nails can’t fix.”

  “What is this place?” I lean into Kite, relishing the feel of him so close after a night apart. “It’s so beautiful here.”

  Creedence grins. “An old trapping cabin. They’re all over this part of Montana and up into Canada. My folks used to shack up in them when they needed to lay low for a while. We stayed here once when I was six or seven.”

  “I can’t believe you remembered how to get here,” Kite says.

  “Yeah, well, it was a fun summer.” Creedence shrugs. “Lots of fishing and swimming and running wild through the woods with my sister. We didn’t have a lot of summers like that when we were kids. Makes you remember the good times.”

  Kite hugs me closer. “I hear you.”

  The good times…

  I’m not sure any of those are in our near future, but hopefully, we’ve found a safe place to hide while we get ready for the fight of our lives. The thought is barely through my head when Luke appears from around the rear of the camper. “We’re clear visibility wise. No sign of civilization on any of the hills around here.”

  “Good to know,” Dust says, but all I can think about is all the things we don’t know about the man ambling over to lean against the shady side of the camper.

  Who the hell are you, Luke? I wonder silently, but my hard look yields nothing but a lazy smile that makes my stomach flip in spite of myself.

  Trouble. Luke is a trouble enchilada smothered in trouble sauce with a side of frustration salsa. But for now, he’s part of our crew and we’re all safe.

  If I’ve learned anything in my life, it’s to be grateful for little miracles.

  “Welcome home pancakes, anyone?” I ask, with a smile. “I’m making.”

  I make twenty pancakes and we eat them all, smothered in syrup and crushed walnuts, while watching the sun light up the hills, the view so pretty it would be easy to start believing in happy endings.

  Or at the very least, happy beginnings.

  Chapter 16

  Wren

  The first day on the Compound, as we eventually come to call it, I’m so busy trying to pretend I don’t know that Luke isn’t who he says he is—and to keep from coughing up a lung during our five-mile sprint down the mountain, or our sparring practice and weight training, during which Luke proves he does not intend to take it easy on me until I build up my stamina—I don’t notice much else.

  I know Carrie Ann sleeps most of the day in her cage and that Sierra isn’t doing so well—she gets panicked in open spaces and takes a plate back to Da Beige to eat alone rather than join us for the evening meal at the outdoor table Kite rigged up from an old barn door—but neither is much of a surprise. Carrie Ann is sick, and Sierra has been through hell and lost the love of her life in the process.

  I can’t imagine I would be in the mood for company if I were in either of their shoes.

  So I make a mental note to check on Carrie Ann more often and to ask Sierra if she’d like the paperback copy of Lonesome Dove I found under the sink in the camper when I’m done reading it, devour three peanut butter sandwiches, drink a half gallon of water, and pass out from exhaustion by nine o’clock.

  The next day is a repeat of the first, except that I’m so sore it hurts to move and throwing a punch is probably the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced, second only to taking one. Luke isn’t hitting me with anything close to his full strength, but getting kneed in the stomach or elbowed in the face isn’t a pleasant experience any way you cut it.

  By the time Kite helps me into a bath he’s heated for me, kettle by tedious kettle on the wood stove, I practically weep with gratitude as I slide into the steaming water. I’m too battered and bruised to even pay much attention to his concerns about Carrie Ann.

  Yes, she’s still refusing to come out of her cage, but every time I checked on her, she was bouncing away with an encouraging amount of energy.

  Surely that’s a good thing. Certainly, better than Carrie Ann in her human form, curled up on a bed, pale, sweating, and close to death.

  Day three introduces me to levels of muscle soreness I didn’t know exist.

  Day four it rains, and Luke, or whoever the hell he is—Dust still hasn’t been able to get in touch with the L.A. pack, his parents, or anyone with information about our fake passports—beats me up in the mud.

  Just to add variety to the torture, I suppose.

  I’m face down in the muck for the fifth time, in fact, being told to, “Get up. Let’s go again. You’re still leaving your left side undefended,” when Kite comes rushing down the hill, rain streaming down his worried face.

  “What is it?” Luke’s ever-ready fists curl at his sides.

  “Carrie Ann,” Kite pants, his breath coming fast. “She’s having seizures.”

  I struggle to my feet, slogging my way through the ankle-deep mud as fast as I can. “Where’s Dust? We have to get her to a hospital.”

  Kite shakes his head. “No, we’ve got to get her out of the cage. But she jimmied the door. I can’t get her out without breaking the fucking thing and I’m afraid I’ll hurt her in the process.”

  Luke starts up the hill. “So, you hurt her, man. Better hurt than kin bound for the rest of her life.”r />
  I hurry after him, Kite beside me. “What’s that?” I ask, swiping the rain from my eyes. “What’s he talking about?”

  “It’s what I was telling you the other day.” Kite jogs easily over the rocky ground, making me feel clumsier every time I nearly trip and fall. “If we stay in kin form too long, we get stuck that way. That’s one of the ways humans got rid of us in the past. Lock a shifter in animal form in a cage and don’t let him out for long enough, and pretty soon you have nothing left but the animal. We can’t shift behind bars.”

  “Why not?” I ask, yipping in surprise as the toe of my tennis shoe catches on a root hidden beneath the leaves and I pitch forward.

  “Woah. Got you.” Kite grabs me by the elbow, holding me up until I’m able to find my feet. “We just can’t. Like how some animals can’t live in captivity. We can’t shift inside it.”

  I wince as he releases my arm and the blood comes flowing back into the bruised flesh. He notices, and a shadow falls over his features. “You don’t have to do this, you know. Train this hard. We have time. Luke promised to stay with us until you’re ready, no matter how long it takes.”

  “I know. But I have so much to learn, and who knows how long we’ll be safe here. Danger has a way of catching up with us. Any word on the howling we heard last night?”

  “Not yet.” Kite takes my hand, threading his fingers through mine as we move out of the woods and into the thinner trees surrounding the homestead. “Creedence should be back soon, though. He left before Dust, and Dust got back ten minutes ago. That’s the only reason I felt safe leaving Carrie Ann. He’s watching her, ready to smash the hell out of the cage if we have no other choice.”