High Moon

by Kati Wilde

  Though if she keeps peeking in that direction, I can’t guarantee it’ll all stay hidden.

  I grin down at her. She notices and hastily averts her eyes, cheeks darkening with a blush.

  “I brought your clothes,” she says. “Your jeans and, uh, your shirt.”

  My cum-stained shirt. Well, I ain’t picky. Especially as it’ll smell like her pussy, too.

  She heads back toward the truck. “Kyle should be on his way.”

  Just as well, considering what I’ve got to tell her. So I’d better change before he gets here.

  I better change, anyway. I can’t tell her anything in this skin.

  I follow her, waiting until I’m out of the path of the headlights before transforming. Not because I’m modest, but because I figure Jonas would rather not get an eyeful of my dick.

  Makena sure takes an eyeful as she hands over my jeans, though the way the dogs try to get another sniff of my bare ass before I cover it up sucks the sexy out of the whole process. She’s giggling behind her hand when she passes me the shirt. Before the shooting started, she must have rinsed the stain out of the fabric. Now there’s just a big wet patch that clings to my stomach when I pull it on.

  Jonas seems to have recovered now. “Should we call Kyle, tell him it’s nothing?”

  “We might as well wait for him here. They aren’t going far.” I look to Makena, who’s still giggling at the dogs. “They’re the same assholes who tore up your fences.”

  Her giggles stop. “Who?”

  “I didn’t hear a name. But one of them owns a Ford pickup with a lift kit and fifty-four-inch tires, and with a cable winch on the front end.”

  Disbelief fills her expression. “A red pickup?”

  I’ve got no idea. I shrug and tell her, “I know it wasn’t yellow or blue. He said your family used to sponsor him in Little League.”

  That disbelief deepens, joined now by hurt. “Charlie Langerman?”

  I can’t answer that, either. “There were two others with him. About the same age.”

  “If it’s Charlie, the others are probably Clint and Travis.” She glances at Jonas, as if looking for confirmation. But he only shakes his head, his face stony, and I remember the bartender saying that Jonas mostly keeps to himself and doesn’t go into town much.

  But Makena does. Quietly I ask her, “Is this Charlie a friend of yours?”

  “Not a close friend, but…” She trails off and her hurt deepens, which tells me that he was apparently friendly enough that this feels like a betrayal.

  “Did they all have scents?” Jonas asks, clearly wondering if that betrayal might be even worse.

  “They did.”

  She seems to take comfort in knowing they didn’t slaughter her cattle, at least. “So what were they doing? Trying to pull down the fences again?”

  “No. It looked like Charlie intended to go prospecting in your silver mine.”

  A baffled frown draws her eyebrows together. “What?”

  “He had a pickaxe and a bucket with him, and he was heading over toward it.”

  Jonas gives a rusty laugh. “Did he have a stick of dynamite, so he could get that door open?”

  “It was already open.”

  That surprises them both. They exchange a stunned glance. Then Makena asks him, “When’s the last time you had a look?”

  “I don’t know. A few weeks or so. After the fences.”

  “What about after the cattle were slaughtered?”

  Jonas shakes his head. “I didn’t go and see if anyone tried to mess with it.”

  “What about you?” I ask Makena.

  “I don’t go into that corner of the property at all,” she says, and though her voice is even, dread fills her scent—along with a whiff of the same fear that all but drowned her while she suffered her panic attack earlier. She quickly tamps it down. “So it could have been opened any time in the past few weeks.”

  Or maybe on the same night that her cattle were slaughtered. Because it might take a stick of dynamite to open that mine, but someone who could swing a sledgehammer that hard wouldn’t need explosives. Though if he is one of the kin, once he got that door open, he likely got real sick and wouldn’t have been able to hang around.

  All this time, we’d been thinking that attack was one of the bearkin out for revenge on Makena’s family or Jonas. If his aim had been the mine all along, maybe being thwarted like that pissed off him bad enough to take out his anger on the nearest living things—a bunch of cattle. It seemed strange as fuck that it might have been one of the kin, but he didn’t use teeth and claws. If he was reeling from opening that mine and being exposed to the poisoned silver, though, he might not have been able to transform. Just like I can’t in the minute or so after touching that silver.

  That’s a whole lot of ‘maybe,’ though. Especially when the explanation might be a lot simpler. “Someone paid him to pull out those fences. Maybe he got paid for this, too.”

  Makena’s gaze sharpens. “Who paid him?”

  “He didn’t say. But you’re thinking that development company, yeah?”

  Her nod confirms that.

  “Well,” I tell her, “this might just be more of the same, then. They’ve got those mines going on their property, so maybe they wanted to know if your mine had something to offer, too. I figure that might be why they’ve been going after your property so hard. Charlie might have been supposed to get samples or some shit.”

  Makena’s staring at me like what I just said was a whole lot more astounding than some company getting greedy over silver or whatever other mineral they’re going after. “Did you say they’ve opened up the mines over there? And they’re mining in them?”

  “Yep. Doing all kinds of blasting, and hauling loads of rock out of ‘em.”

  “And it’s not just part of the construction?”

  “Not unless they’re also using cyanide to put up their hotels. But as far as I know, it’s mostly good for processing silver ore—and that shit’s got a pretty distinctive smell.”

  Still staring at me, Makena laughs in delight, clutching her hands in front of her chest like I just gave her a present. In the next second, she launches herself at me. I catch her up in my arms, not understanding but also not complaining when she kisses me hard, then pulls back to grin and proclaim, “This is the best day ever.”

  Then she kisses me again. And just a little while ago, she fired me.

  So, yeah. It’s a damn good day.

  16

  Makena

  The night turns into a long one after Kyle shows up. By then we’ve figured out our story—that Ethan had been up on the hill watching over the herd, saw Charlie and the others drive onto Rudder’s old field, and got close enough to hear them say something about being paid to rip out the fences. Immediately Ethan headed back home to tell me and Jonas what he’d overheard, and he was halfway there when he heard the gunfire. Ethan will say he believed they were shooting at an elk or something, because according to the new timeline, he wouldn’t know what really happened.

  I hate lying to Kyle. Hate it. All of my part is true—I heard the gunfire, knew Ethan was out there, so I woke up Jonas and we headed in that direction—but we’re hiding so much from Kyle that I feel like shit the entire time.

  But what else do I say? That Ethan’s a werewolf? Even if it didn’t sound crazy, exposing Ethan’s secret isn’t my decision to make.

  At least I don’t have to hide my astonishment when we follow Kyle up to the site. Because Ethan told us that they’d shot at him, and that Charlie and his friends weren’t going anywhere. But he hadn’t said anything about what he’d done.

  And holy shit. I knew Ethan was strong. Really strong. I had no idea how strong. Simply trying to comprehend a man who can toss a truck around…that takes a minute.

  Taking in the scene, it’s clear Kyle assumes this had nothing to do with a werewolf, though, and everything to do with a couple of drunken assholes driving a top-heavy vehicle. Take
any corner too fast, it’ll tip. And the tire marks in the field showed they must have been tearing it up pretty good even before Ethan came along.

  No surprise, Kyle’s skeptical when they claim a bear attacked them. Also no surprise, they clam up when he floats the suggestion that they were out here before today, tearing out my fences.

  The only surprise comes after he’s got them locked up in the back of his patrol vehicle. Before he takes off, Kyle says quietly to me, “Charlie always had a hell of a swing, didn’t he?”

  With a baseball bat. If Fortune City has a homegrown celebrity, that celebrity would be Charlie. Just about single-handedly, he pitched and batted the high school team to a state championship—the only state championship ever won by a Fortune City team. Then he was recruited into the minor leagues, and it was as if he’d been anointed from on high. An injury forced him out after one season but his legend still lives on amongst the townspeople.

  He wasn’t in the same grade as Kyle and me, but a few years behind. But he’s someone I’ve always known, before and after his stint at professional ball.

  And I would never have thought he might be capable of chasing down and slaughtering two dozen cows. I still don’t think so. Obviously I misjudged him—because I didn’t think he’d be responsible for destroying my fences, either—but if he was paid, I can kind of understand it. People down on their luck sometimes do stupid shit for money.

  But fences are one thing. And it’s a hell of a jump from stupid to psychopath. Whoever killed my cows seems to be a lot closer to the latter.

  And Charlie might have a good swing, but I don’t think his—or any human’s—swing could ever be that good. According to Ethan, that person also doesn’t have a scent, but Charlie does. That’s not something I can explain to Kyle, though.

  Still, wondering and worrying keep me awake the short hour and a half that I manage to snatch before my alarm goes off.

  Jonas has a coffee ready for me in the kitchen. “Going to be a long day,” he says.

  “Yeah, it is.” I accept the caffeine and pour a milk for Ethan. “But a good one.”

  Maybe better than I already hope, if Charlie confesses that MDC paid him to rip out my fences. But even if he doesn’t, someone at MDC is about to have a really bad day.

  I can’t fucking wait.

  Stalking silently out of the dark, Ethan meets me on my way to the barn. I give him the milk and he hauls me in for a kiss, until every part of me that isn’t already awake has poked out its head to say good morning.

  “I got your pictures,” he tells me when we come up for air.

  Because he hasn’t gotten any sleep yet, either. Instead he was running a covert mission over to MDC’s construction site, gathering evidence. Last night, Ethan had no idea what he’d given us with that casual mention of their mining activities. Why would he? Locally, the topic of MDC’s application for a mining permit has under fierce debate for the past two years, but no one outside the county would have had any reason to pay attention—or to know that the state regulation board recently denied the company’s application, due to environmental concerns and the site’s proximity to the river. Yet MDC went ahead with their mining operation anyway.

  Their illegal mining operation.

  Yes, today is going to be a very good day.

  We continue toward the barn, and Ethan adds, “I also stole a case of dynamite.”

  I choke on my coffee. “What?”

  “In case you want to blow up the entrance to your own mine.”

  That…might be a good idea. “Maybe,” I say slowly, considering it. “We could at least prevent any more silver from ever coming out of there.”

  “That was my thinking.”

  Because it’s a matter of life or death to him. I want the same thing—the mine closed and no more of that silver in circulation. But there is still some out there, in the hands of the hunters. And perhaps there’s even more lying in jewelry boxes around the world, its magical properties undiscovered. So closing the mine would only solve part of the problem.

  Maybe there’s a way to completely solve it.

  “We’ll blow it up if we have to,” I tell him. “But let’s hold off a few days, and ask my uncle if he can search the mine first. Because my father believed that if a source of magic was destroyed—a source like Gleipnir—then the effect it had on anything else would vanish, too.” I hold up my hand, wriggling my beringed fingers. “So it would make this silver just like any other silver. And that would be a much better outcome than just closing it up.”

  “Yeah, it would. Sounds like a plan, then.”

  I just hope it’s a plan that works. The thought of Ethan chasing an organization of werewolf hunters would terrify me less if I also know they can’t easily kill him.

  But it would only terrify me a little less. I wish he never had to leave.

  That’s not up to me, though. So while he’s here, I’ll enjoy every moment with him that I can. Even these everyday, simple moments that we spend out in the barn. Especially these everyday, simple moments. Because they’re the ones that would fill my life if he stayed.

  Now that he’s been helping me for a week, we have the morning chores down to a science—which means he handles almost everything while I tackle the task that takes the longest time: milking the cow. He probably would have tried taking that off my hands, too, if Annabelle wasn’t still wary around him. But overall, chores take about half the time they used to—and that’s only because the milking can’t be rushed. So Ethan finishes up his part before I’m through, then settles in to watch me from a distance that doesn’t make Annabelle too restless.

  “Normally,” he tells me in that low, gravelly rumble of his, “I wouldn’t be caught dead sitting on my ass in a barn. There’s always something to do. But in this barn, Makena… There’s just nothing to do but sit here and drive myself crazy watching a fine, sexy woman use her lubricated hands to procure sustenance for her family table.” So he does, finishing his milk while I squirt more into a pail, my cheeks suffused with soft heat and my heart filled with pride.

  Because in the past thirty years, my family has put in a lot of effort into making everything on this ranch as modern as we can afford. The first day, Ethan remarked on how efficient everything was in the barn, and praised the layout, saying it was one of the best he’d seen. And I would hope it is. Surely it’s not the biggest he’s seen, but the building replaced the drafty fire hazard that came with the property, and was one of the first expensive investments my family made. And we all worked on the structure—my parents, Jonas, me—and did the majority of the work ourselves. I was only eight years old when the barn went up, but I remember the sheer satisfaction of pounding in the nails, of being allowed to help with everything from the plumbing to the painting. And in twenty years, replacing the roof shingles was the only major repair it’s needed—which Ethan did in record time.

  With Ethan here, everything that can be done more quickly is. This week, that speed meant we returned to the kitchen earlier, ate breakfast earlier. Not today, though. In the dairy room, he strains the milk while I wash the Bag Balm from my hands. And after everything is rinsed and drained… Well.

  I glance at Ethan. He’s already watching me, and as if my look is the unsnapping of a leash, in the next second he’s got me backed against the wall—where I try to kiss him but he uses all that height and strength to keep me from reaching his mouth.

  “Dammit, Ethan!” We don’t have a lot of time.

  But he certainly takes his, tilting my chin up and lowering his head. His thumb brushes over my lips. “You gonna be in Boise most of the day?”

  “Yes,” I tell him breathily. He’s got me pinned against the wall with his big body—and, oh my god, everything about him is so big. His thick erection presses into my belly, and even looking up into his eyes, I can hardly picture anything but that massive length stroking between my legs like it did last night. “Jonas is going with me to the sheriff’s this morning, and Carrie
says she expects the rest will take all day.”

  A six-hour drive in both directions, plus however much time it takes to talk to whoever we need to talk to.

  With his gaze on my lips, he tilts his head, as if judging the best angle for a kiss. “Leave me a list of what needs done around here today, then. I’ll take care of it.”

  “But I fired you,” I remind him, only just now thinking of it with a quivering uncertainty in my belly. Because I’d forgotten about doing that, kind of. Not about taking the next step with him. Despite everything else that happened last night, what passed between Ethan and me on my porch has barely left my head.

  The actual firing part, though? I meant it. Not because he did anything wrong, but because he was right. He’s bossy. Even right now, he’s pushing me around in my own barn. I’m more than happy to let him. But if we also try to have an employee/employer relationship? That can’t function like this. An employee shouldn’t sit and ogle his boss while she milks a cow. And he sure as hell shouldn’t have his boss up against a wall, desperate to ride his cock.

  But…I can’t afford to fire him. We need help around the ranch.

  Yet it’s not right to let him work for free, either.

  His eyes narrow. “Are you regretting that now?”

  I don’t know how to answer that. Except as truthfully as I can. Because I’m worried.

  But I don’t regret it. “No.”

  Slowly he nods, his amber eyes gleaming. “Seems to me that if you had a man living in your house—or bunkhouse—and this man had the privilege of your bed, that might make him something like a boyfriend. Or a husband. Someone like that, you wouldn’t fret over the work he did around the ranch and whether you were paying him.”

  My heart catches in my throat, where yearning squeezes everything into a painful lump. “That’s…a really big step.”

  “But it’s a step that I’d sure like to take,” he says gruffly. “And after I have you good and hard tonight, Makena, you’ll want to take it, too.”

  Tonight. My breath shudders, tension and anticipation rippling through me on a tightening wave. Ethan goes still, eyes closing, his chest lifting on a deep inhalation.