Moonlight Desire: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 1)

by K. R. Alexander

  Jason licked my chin and dashed back to Kage as I walked away with Diana and Zar.

  In another hour and a half, Isaac, Kage, Jason, Andrew, Zar, Jed, and myself were boarding the train for London.

  Chapter 32

  Zar brought old papers and spiral-bounds much like his manual for getting along with humans from the 1950s. He hoped to find more references than he knew off the top of his head on historical precedents for shifters murdering each other.

  We sat at a table in the train, two seats on one side, two on another—Zar and myself across from Andrew and Jason. Isaac, Kage, and Jed sat behind us or drifted around, in Kage’s case like he’d never been on a train before, restless and pacing in the aisle.

  Zar still tried to talk about what I’d seen.

  I felt sick, wanting to talk about anything other than that.

  Bloody images of the visions filled my mind with the carved up face of Abraham—the gaping neck and swollen lips and black blood.

  Despite the nature of what we’d been doing all along, there on the train heading for London was the first time I’d felt scared over it: about what could happen to my companions if we didn’t solve this—even what could happen to me. If they went for druids, they wouldn’t mind going for other humans in a pinch. Especially an American witch who they might be able to figure out was on their trail.

  A list, a plan, a certainty. I preferred all. Without the latter two, I could at least create the first. An ounce of steady reality. Options to weigh. Paths to truth.

  I pulled a slim paper notebook and purple ballpoint from my bag between my feet. I opened it on the table to write so the other three could see.

  Shifters:

  Estranged Beech Pack

  Urban wolves

  Undead:

  Vampires

  Mundane humans:

  ?

  Casters:

  ?

  Kage stopped on one of his rounds pacing past our table.

  He also studied the list, then jabbed a finger at my notebook. “You’ve seen all those people murder wolves in your magic visions?”

  “What?” I looked up at him looming over me. “No. Those are suspects.”

  “But that’s everyone.” Jason’s brows were drawn, alarmed by my list. “Shifters, undead, humans … that’s the whole bipedal world.”

  “Yes.” I sucked in a breath. “But it seems like much less when you see it as a short list, doesn’t it?”

  “Um…”

  “Don’t forget druids,” Kage said, still truculent.

  “Enough from you about the druids,” I said.

  Zar rubbed his ear—the way I now knew he did when embarrassed. “Kage, they’ve lost people also.”

  “Exactly. What was the first thing they thought when a wolf died? ‘Oh, that’ll be a wolf murdering another wolf.’ Just returning the favor.”

  “You don’t have the kindred on there either,” Zar said, getting on board with the speculation.

  “Or spirits,” Andrew said. “Why stop at the whole world for a suspect when you could look beyond?”

  I sighed. “Let’s rule out anything that is not capable of holding a stake and appearing in a humanish form. Since I did see that much. We do know for a fact it’s not kindred, ghosts, or sheep, for example.”

  “Just the sort of thing someone says before it turns out to be sheep—”

  “Kage!”

  “Druids can hold stakes,” he mumbled and walked away.

  “Does he have something against old women?” I asked Jason.

  “He does now. You wouldn’t let him go to tea.”

  “That’s why he hates druids? Because he didn’t get to have tea with us?”

  “And you took his Jeep for it.” Jason bit his lip as he looked at my notebook.

  I rubbed the bridge of my nose, still feeling queasy. These train cars must have bathrooms.

  “Okay,” I said. “To be fair to everyone, I suppose if there can be estranged wolves there can be estranged druids who could also turn on others. And what about any other suspects? Capable of looking like a human and holding a stake, that is. Anyone else that no one has mentioned who you’ve already suspected?”

  I added Rogue druids to my list where Kage could see when he stalked by. Then looked up since no one had answered.

  “Well,” Zar said, running his thumb down the edge of a book on shifter history. “Nothing that’s reliable.”

  “Neither is the Beech Pack,” I said. “Let’s try to cover all the bases for this. Who else do your elders suspect?”

  Zar moved his lips and didn’t answer, apparently working up to it.

  Finally, Andrew said, “Your witch pals.”

  “What?”

  “The group putting on the conferences,” Andrew said. “After Diana got in touch to ask for help … the mage she saw…” It wasn’t like Andrew to hesitate. He looked out the window to green hedges and red brick buildings zipping past along the tracks. “He told her to get stuffed. You can’t go around thinking casters are murdering your family just because you meet one who’s an arsehole. But he didn’t like wolves—made it clear he didn’t think we should be here living in civilized areas at all—and the only thing useful he said was that we needed a scry. After that chap, the elders weren’t going near casters again.”

  Jason looked from Andrew to me. “Andrew knew about their history conferences at the hotel. And what they really were. A few wolves were still pushing for human help. Andrew’s the one who said he could find a scry from the conference—and someone who wasn’t from the South of England. So if that organization really is…”

  “If they really have been murdering us, we’d be asking an outsider this time around,” Andrew finished. “Someone who wasn’t in on the murder plot.”

  How many dead now?

  Of course they keep to themselves.

  I looked at them for a minute, able to think of nothing to say: Jason to Andrew to Zar beside me.

  Then I turned the question mark below Casters into a B and wrote in Broomantle.

  Chapter 33

  We were midway through our journey when I had to slip away, leaving Zar busy with his papers on the table, though Andrew and Jason watched me go.

  By the time I reached the oval train restroom—an interesting experience with the sliding door and tiny sink like an airplane bathroom, but larger floorspace than one—I didn’t feel so sick anymore. Maybe all I needed was to get up and move like Kage. Perhaps that was why he’d been pacing.

  I’d feel better with fresh air—if London can be said to have any—and forward momentum.

  One lead at a time. And the one now was London. Shifters. Undead.

  We had to figure out how we were going to find wolves in the city. That was the first thing. In addition, there was the matter of vampires.

  Zar had said we’d have to be in the city late to find either. Yet it had still seemed prudent to come over early and spend time in London and make a plan. We could stay the night, no matter the short train trip. Hostel rooms probably.

  That’s what we should be discussing and figuring out: A to B to C.

  Shifters. Undead.

  They’d brought rucksacks or messenger bags again. I had my backpack. Which made me think of needing to text Melanie, though I had no idea what to say. She’d already sent one asking if I was okay, did I need help?

  I wetted paper towels to wipe my neck and arms, catching my breath as I inadvertently touched the bruise.

  “Cassia?” Kage knocked at the door.

  I was coming out anyway and pressed the panel to open it. The curved door slid wide.

  The automated female voice started up with her request not to flush anything that shouldn’t be flushed—including “nappies” and “hopes and dreams.”

  “You all right?” His voice was gruff, like he was trying out the expression but not sure how to use it. “You seemed upset about Abraham.”

  “So did everyone,” I countered, lifting m
y hand to his chest to stop him. “And if you were actually concerned about me—Kage.”

  He sidestepped in with an agility and quickness I’d noticed even the tallest and broadest wolves possessed. They would make incredible dancers—much less any physical sport.

  “Get out—”

  “I wanted to see you. When you scarpered last night—”

  “You didn’t even say goodbye to me last night.”

  The space was brutally cramped, the air freshener reek making it feel even more claustrophobic. While constant swaying on the tracks created a sensation of instability.

  I reached past for the door to get myself out, pressed against him since there was no other way to share the space. Kage locked it.

  “You can’t count on me for goodbyes,” he said. “Chat up your poet friend for that.”

  His mouth covered mine.

  I wanted him to hold me there and kiss me so much it made me furious.

  We were supposed to be shocked and grieving. In a smelly little room that was too small for us to share, swinging along on a train track with, potentially, others waiting to use the facilities.

  Kage pushed me into the wall at the door panel, his tongue on my lips, powerful fingers on my face. I grabbed his head in both hands in return, pulling him in, breath gone, opening my mouth for him.

  We grappled for half a minute, then I found his ear and twisted it so hard his head was wrenched sideways.

  He yelped. “Fuck, ah—bloody hell!”

  “This is not the time and it’s really not the place to set a romantic mood.” I let go. I was shaking—could hardly get my breath, wanting him to touch me so badly, so consumed by it, I was forced to the conclusion that this was one of those crazy repercussions of shock and grief. There was fear and anger and sadness wrapped up in grief, after all. Why not lust?

  “What do you want?” He kissed me again. “Flowers and sunset?” His mouth was hot, seeming to mix straight into my bloodstream. “You can have that from your poet.” His saliva tasted of something sweet. “With your goodbyes and your hand-holding.” A candy or honey flavor that threw me off. But not as much as I was thrown off by his hand on my breast. The other hand was in my hair at the nape of my neck.

  I bit his tongue, again pulling him in, feeling his body on mine. Solid force and heat, rocking against me. He kept pushing and I released his tongue to feel him bite my lips.

  He cupped my left breast, pushing up with his palm, rubbing my stiff nipple with his thumb. I wanted his hand under my blouse. And my hand under his fly.

  He arched his back, having to bend in to hold my throat in his teeth, still pushing, painful. I tipped my head back and fumbled to get the edge of his shirt up and feel his skin. It was weird how little the washboard abs yielded to pressure. Like thinking you were biting into an apple only to discover it was a baseball—too hard to get your teeth through. Speaking of hard, he was still pushing with his hips.

  “Kage? You’re in a relationship,” I panted.

  “What?” Tongue to mine and I wanted to swallow him, so eager for him I was already envisioning more.

  “Jason,” I said. “What about Jason?”

  “What about him?”

  “For each button you knock off my blouse, I’m going to knock a tooth out of your head.”

  With lightning speed Kage changed tactics—feeling under my blouse instead of thinking he could rip through.

  “Are you in a relationship with him or not?” I asked. “He seems to think you are.”

  “Sure. Do you want him to be here?”

  “Want him to—what?”

  “Why are you asking about him?”

  “Because you’re in a relationship!” I had both hands on his face again, twisting him away so I could look into his eyes.

  “So?” He pushed through my hands to kiss me.

  “Dammit, Kage! What language are you speaking? Are you sleeping with Jason or not?”

  “Of course I am. We live together.”

  “Live together!” I got a couple fingers into his mouth to push his face away while he bit and licked them. “Listen. You have to go back to him and honor the fact that you have a relationship. Or you have to tell him that you do not have one, because he seems to think you do.”

  “Then you’d be all right?” Lips on mine, my hand in his hair instead of his mouth. “You don’t want me because of him?” He worked his fingers below my bra.

  “It’s not me. It’s him. You shouldn’t want me because of him, Kage.”

  “I could call it off with him. If that’s what—”

  “No! If you break up with him because of me that will do the opposite of earn you points from me!”

  “Then what is it you want? He’s not really into females, but if you want a three—”

  “No!”

  “Then what?” Shouting back at me. “Is this lose-lose for me? You don’t want me if I’m sleeping with him. It’s not acceptable to you for me to stop sleeping with him. And you also don’t want both of us at once? So what can I do?”

  Dammit—this shock and grief and lust thing was getting more complicated.

  His questions seemed stupid and obvious. So it didn’t make sense that I didn’t have answers.

  I wished he was pushing even more. I wished he was in my jeans—fingers at least. Then I could feel more justified for my own inability to make sense of this. Much too distracted.

  As it was, his hunger and mine were so distracting I wasn’t thinking straight. I don’t have any better excuse for why I succumbed so much to wanting him in return that I reached to find his erection through his jeans. Kage thrust into my hand, fabric still separating us, while he bit along my neck to the top of my shoulder. My right arm hurt. His pressure on my breast was painful, sharp. Still, I wanted more.

  He needed freedom. I needed him.

  But I had enough of a second to think that the craziness caught up.

  First get myself under control. Then him.

  I held his hips, shoving him away

  I owed him a chance. “Kage.” I fought to gather my breath and speak firmly. “Stop.”

  Nothing whatever changed.

  I reached lower between his legs. I couldn’t get much of a hold with his jeans tight from his erection. For the best, though? Like a pinch on any normal area of skin, I suspected a smaller space may actually be worse.

  I fondled him, getting a hold, then closed my fist on what I could reach, twisting savagely upward at the same time—as if ripping a stubborn weed out of the earth.

  It would be an exaggeration to say he screamed. But not by much: a string of epic profanity, much in Lucannis, gasping, recoiling. He thought he would simply twist my arm away—big mistake to pull on my hand—then a choked series of, “Please, please…”

  “So you do have manners? I’m sure your mother would be proud.” I let him go.

  He was doubled over against the little sink and mirror, puffing like a landed fish.

  “All right, tough guy, listen. Again. Your … odd relationship with Jason is for the two of you to sort out. But when it comes to the relationship between you and me, you only need to know one thing: when I say ‘stop’, it means you stop on a dime, asshole.”

  “What’s the bloody issue? You wanted this. You were fucking begging!”

  I wasn’t going to deny that. My head spun and my blood beat as fire for wanting him.

  “The issue is I have impulse control. You don’t. You’re in a relationship. I’m not. I apologize for misleading you—that wasn’t fair. But we’re just not a good match, Kage. Why don’t you finish up alone? Or do you want me to send your boyfriend down here? You need to have a talk with him anyway. If you care about him, act like it. If you don’t, tell him. Because he seems to think you do.”

  I pushed the panel to open the door, leaving him panting behind me.

  As the curved door slid wide I prayed—but, no, the corridor was indeed empty. Thank you, Goddess.

  We were still
twenty minutes from London. I spent ten of them walking around before I felt sure no redness was showing, then returned to sit in the same car, a couple of rows down from the others when I spotted an empty aisle seat.

  Chapter 34

  After the long morning—and other circumstances—I wasn’t at my best when we arrived in London Victoria. This was unfortunate because my companions were not nearly as street-savvy as they were savvy about taunting each other or locating fast food joints.

  While I walked through the crowd in the sprawling rail station, heading for the nearest exit, through the turnstiles and below massive electric timetables overhead, I lost followers.

  By the time I reached the archway out by the Italian café and looked around, only Isaac and Jason remained beside me. And Jason walked into me when I stopped because he’d been keeping so close.

  Kage was still stuck at the turnstile, arguing with the attendant because his ticket hadn’t gone through. Zar stood against a ticket booth, waiting and waiting for the foot traffic to clear before he could move forward. Of course, foot traffic did not clear. You just had to push through. Yet the idea seemed to overwhelm him, his eyes tracking back and forth with the stampede. Jed was being slightly more proactive, slinking along the wall and little shops, all the way down to the Tesco Express before he slipped through and started making his way back in our direction. I didn’t see Andrew anywhere.

  Jason stared at banner advertisements hanging from the cathedral walls as if they might jump down and attack him.

  Isaac’s eyes darted to pigeons flying inside, a rolling suitcase clattering past, a paper wrapper blowing through the walkway, a man on his phone, waving his left hand animatedly as he talked.

  Everything caught their attention. I saw the crowd and the exit. They saw and smelled and heard and felt the loose strap flapping on a backpack, prepackaged sandwiches in Tesco, click of pigeons’ claws on the floor, vibrations of the monolithic station.

  I understood as I watched their movements and darting glances, not because I had any special insight into shifters, but because of autistic children I had worked with while in school. Children who may be brilliant, and in many ways rewarding to work around. But who perceived the world in a totally different way than I did. And sometimes, as a result, could not even function in that world.