Moonlight Hunters: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 2)

by K. R. Alexander

  I pushed my fingers into his wet hair. Zar caressed my neck, down my shoulders and bare arms with light fingers.

  I wanted him touching me more. Shivered for him. Remembering how unfair I’d been to Kage on the train, however, I stepped back.

  Zar let me go.

  I was grateful, surprised—again—by his gentlemanly behavior. At the same time, I also remembered the train: how impossible it had been to disengage from Kage’s force. Deep down, which did I actually prefer? Kage had been far more arousing. At this exact moment, though, I needed Zar. A kiss, a touch, and bed.

  Right now, points to Zar all the way. And … next time? Who would win the next round?

  But there would be no more of a round from Kage. Already in a relationship.

  Was that really what I hoped? No more advances from Kage? Of course not. But it was what needed to be, so it didn’t matter.

  And Zar … Zar was so beautiful and kind and right there.

  I kissed him again, only lips, thanked him, and whispered good night.

  With this memory clear in my mind—and nothing more having happened—I was startled when I woke in the light of day to find Zar in my bed.

  Chapter 6

  I recoiled as Zar’s face came into focus.

  “Cassia?”

  “Goddess—what are you doing?” I gasped.

  Just as quickly, I realized he was not in bed with me. He was on his knees against my lower bunk, leaned in, his face level with mine on the pillow.

  “Sorry, I hated to wake you.”

  “What do you want?” My tone was none too kind and Zar eased back.

  “They have cold breakfast out downstairs, but they’re packing in. I hoped to get you something. Only…”

  “You have no idea what humans eat for breakfast?”

  He bit his lip.

  I turned my face into the thin little pillow. “That’s thoughtful, Zar, but, first of all, you could have asked Andrew. I’m sure he sees plenty in that hotel. Also, you should know that most ‘worms,’ even if they do enjoy breakfast in bed, don’t want to be woken up just for the pleasure of winning such a prize.”

  “Sorry,” he murmured again, and I suspected he was slinking away.

  “No.” I waved a feeble hand, not looking up. “I’m being a hag because I’m tired and I hate morning alarms. If breakfast is just about over, it means I should be awake anyway.” And that I should make use of it since we’d paid for it. It certainly hadn’t been automatic with the hostel.

  Silence.

  I flopped over on my side, pushing back the mess of improperly dried blonde hair from my face. This was going to be a ponytail day.

  Zar stood there in the middle of the narrow room, dressed in black jeans and a gray shirt. Their style sense seemed to be about the only thing the two brothers had in common. At a glance, the room was empty aside from us. Morning sunlight reflected off glass across the street outside and bounced painfully into this room. I couldn’t believe I’d been asleep in here at all.

  “Coffee, black,” I said. “And muesli and a banana? Or anything that looks vaguely like those things?”

  He nodded, smiling again.

  “Thank you, Zar, very much. Really.”

  “I’ll be right back.” He rushed out, looking pleased with himself.

  So how could he not have all the points today?

  I couldn’t protect them from each other or themselves. Yet it seemed irresponsible, even cruel, not to at least try to.

  I sighed and sat up, rubbing my eyes, reaching for my backpack resting in the corner of the bed against my feet. I could brush my hair and at least swish out my mouth with my bottle of water before he was back.

  I was startled to discover it was 10:00 a.m. Much better on the sleep than I’d imagined. And no wonder the place was cleared out. Or was it?

  “Jed?” Sudden instinct made me ask.

  I heard only a slight shift of a foam mattress down toward the door, but I leaned out on my own bed and, yes, there he was. Jed sat up on a lower bunk, dressed and working on something on top of his rucksack. It looked like he was stitching but I couldn’t tell from my angle.

  Finally. The two of us. But what was I supposed to say?

  My mind was still busy with the night before, not the Beech Pack. I felt much more interested in asking Zar about the old vampire truce than asking Jed to fess up about those elusive and unpopular rogue wolves—with whom he’d been involved.

  “Jed?” I said again. “I wish you’d talk to me about the Beech Pack. We don’t have much to go on right now. If we can’t find anything in London, we’ll have to try them.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “We’re in this together. Whoever has something to offer, like Jason and Andrew being able to change, or Zar knowing lore and history of your people—”

  Jed snorted. “And arse kissing. Chuffed to offer you that, isn’t he? Do you worms fancy obsequiousness in blokes? Or is it an American thing?”

  I was so stunned by the attack, it took me a moment. Through the surprise, anger quickened my breath and tightened my muscles as if ready to strike him—though he wasn’t even near me.

  “You think it makes someone weak for being considerate toward someone else? Is that it?” I bit my tongue rather than adding, "You bastard."

  “No.” He sounded cool, indifferent, yet arrogant too, like this conversation was beneath him but he was trying to humor me. “Nothing like that. I think Zar is a sniveling, tail-tucking, spineless swot. But that’s just me. I’ve only lived with him his entire life. That’s nothing. I’m sure you know best.”

  The blood seemed to be punching my ears again. I drew in magic, the force of my own anger making me see in a flash the damage I could do to him by focusing that power.

  “Let me get this straight,” I said quietly, voice shaking. “You consider yourself a better person than your brother because you’re a self-centered, denigrating jackass? Want me to give you a round of applause?”

  “Touched a nerve?” Scoffing at my stupidity. “You don’t know anything about us. Him or me. Or the rest. And you’re not going to learn. Not as long as you rely on running mates like ‘Let me lick your boots’ Zar, or that carrion-eating dark star Jason.”

  I was just about to stand up when Zar, much faster than I’d expected, returned.

  “I’m glad you could sleep.” He beamed as he shoved through the door that he’d left ajar, then approached my bunk with the plate containing two mugs, a spoon, and a banana. “The humans were up early, but they were quiet in our room. Andrew said his roommates were catching a flight and up packing an hour after we got in. Which would you like first? Are you all right?”

  I took the cereal and banana from him. Zar pulled over a plastic chair from the little table at the front of the room for me to use as a bedside table and set the coffee there.

  I ignored his question. “Sit down. Can you tell me what you know about the truce and vampires? Why would they want to kill werewolves?”

  Zar sat on the foot of my bed, leaned out because of the bunk over him. I was just able to sit upright. He watched me eat, smiling.

  “You have such elegant hands. Mine are callused from my tools. You could plait spider silk with yours.” It was not the first time he’d mentioned my hands.

  “Zar?”

  “Oh … there’s not much to tell about vampires.”

  Behind him, I saw Jed climbing off his bed, packing things away in his bag to leave. As if he couldn’t stand the sight of us. Or of his brother.

  I ate my cereal and nibbles of banana and didn’t look at either of them. “You already told me wolves and vampires were old enemies. Why? And what’s this truce supposed to do? Are you really breaking it?”

  “Vampires hate wolves because we look like powerful humans, exactly the type the vampires would like to spawn from.” Zar still gazed at my hands and face in turn as I ate, a soft smile on his face that bore no connection to what he was saying. “But we’re
no good for them. Wolves can’t become vampires. Only certain humans are compatible. I’m not sure why. If it’s a blood type, or gene pool, or what. But wolves are immune.”

  He cocked his head, still smiling. “You always eat like that. Gradual as a sunrise. It suits you. You look delicate, like a butterfly’s wings. But you’re strong, really, the sunrise over the sea, turning the world from night to—”

  “Zar.” I spoke firmly.

  Zar hesitated and bit his lip. “Um…” He rubbed his ear with his left hand. They were all apparently left-handed aside from Kage.

  “You were saying why wolves and vampires don’t get along.”

  “Oh, yes. So … wolves can’t be turned into vampires. By the same token, vampires can hardly feed from us because of our hybrid blood. They can if they’re desperate. But they don’t want to. They say we’re fouled flesh. Like you or I could eat off-color meat or moldy bread if we were starving. It might make us a little sick, but we could.”

  He started to get up. “Do you want more?”

  “No, thank you. Go on.”

  He sat back. “And wolves hate vampires because they represent so much that we detest. They are themselves carrion. Just the smell of them is enough to keep away. But they also hide in urban places and prey on humans. That’s plenty reason to want them gone. They’re a danger to all the magical world for living closely with humans and revealing themselves.”

  “If they’re revealing themselves only to heroin addicts we’re not at much risk of The Guardian running a front page story on them,” I said.

  “Dieter must trade blood for powder.” Zar was back to staring at my hands. “I don’t know anymore than anyone else about modern vampires, though. I didn’t even know they were dealers. He could be isolated.”

  “And the old truce? Something between your two kinds?”

  He nodded absently as he watched either my breasts or my mug in front of them. “Because of these rifts between wolves and undead, there used to be wars. Wolves and vampires would try to destroy each other on sight or smell for much of recorded history. When urban areas began to grow and change in Europe, at the dawn of the Industrial Revolution, elders met on both sides and called a truce outlining terms to live and let … well, not that vampires live. So they called a truce. The terms were simple: wolves live in the country; vampires live in the city; if their paths cross, they leave each other alone and get home in all haste. We don’t bother them, they don’t bother us.”

  “So that’s why you think they’re an impossible suspect? But you’re breaking that truce just by being in London. Why couldn’t they?”

  “Sure, we break it these days. There are wolves who live in more urban places, some go to human universities or work in human professions. But wolves like Isaac are rare. And they have the sense to keep clear of vampires and get out of those urban places when they can. The idea of wolves staying in London…” He shook his head. “That’s nutty enough, but vampires staying in the country? That’s just as mad. They need victims. If they don’t have blood, human blood, they’ll shrivel and waste away.”

  His gaze finally wandered to the bright window. “They could sustain themselves in large towns, or on the outskirts of cities like Brighton and Hove, but why would they? London is right here. They’ll never go hungry here.”

  “There’s something else I don’t understand. I thought when a vampire bit someone, they became a vampire? Now you say most humans aren’t even compatible?”

  “I’m not sure about ‘most’ but I know it’s only certain humans. They can feed on one human day after day if they’ve got one calling around for another hit. Worst that’s going to happen to him is anemia, infection, stuff like that. But otherwise…” He met my eyes. “To spawn, which is how they reproduce, they have to trap a human and transform him or her. They have … a kind of venom. Many humans simply die from it. If you were bitten and received the venom, chances are, that would be it. You wouldn’t become a vampire. You’d just die. It only makes wolves sick, though, like I said. Spawning takes them weeks to nurture a compatible victim along: venom, feeding them blood. It’s a fine line because the vampire does want the victim to die. But they want them to be infected properly first so they go on as the cursed undead. What he said about them spawning lately… I didn’t know…”

  “It sounds worrying.”

  “Very worrying. But not for us.”

  “For mundanes?”

  Zar nodded again.

  “Then vampires aren’t even much of a threat to wolves? Not normally.”

  “Oh … I wouldn’t say that. Ones like Dieter, probably not. But he was old. It’s the young ones that are dangerous. I’ve never seen a young vampire. I don’t even know anyone who’s seen a newborn. He’s referring to when they’re first spawned. They are, after all, dead bodies. Their strength is so fleeting, a moment of glory, then eternity of growing weaker and more shriveled. If there really are newborns around right now, even young ones in general…” Zar shook his head, his expression now grave.

  “They could kill wolves?” I asked.

  “They could be devastating. But young vampires murdering shifters like this?” He lifted and dropped his hands on his knees in a helpless gesture. “They could. But why?”

  “So, as far as you know, they haven’t been spawning in … how long?”

  Zar gave his one-shouldered shrug. “In noticeable numbers? Maybe … a hundred years?”

  I gasped, almost spitting out my last bite of muesli. “What? I thought you were going to say, I don’t know, five or ten, maybe. At the most. A hundred years and suddenly they’re spawning?”

  “We don’t know that. How many? Where? This could be one or two new vampires. Who knows? Besides … who’s to say they haven’t been spawning all along and they’re just good at keeping it quiet? It’s not like we generally go around chatting them up.”

  “No, but still. What if they started spawning so they could wipe out old enemies? Even if that meant risking human notice?”

  “But we haven’t done anything to…” He bit his lip and looked at me.

  “Truce breakers,” I said under my breath. “That’s what both of them called you. They knew what you were. There are wolves in London. The vampires know it. But what if it’s not disenfranchised shifters killing shifters? What if it’s vampires spawning and killing shifters because their turf has been invaded after generations of the old truce?”

  “That … makes a certain amount of sense.” Zar’s dark brows were drawn together, nothing smiling about his eyes anymore. He looked miserable.

  “As far as the methods… And this whole pattern of bleeding out? Why would they do that if they don’t want your blood?”

  He dropped his gaze. “To make a statement. Rotten blood: unfit. That’s how they think of us. All that stuff last night from Dieter about us being filthy? That’s what it’s about. Draining our blood into the dirt like wild game just shows how worthless that blood is.”

  My mind raced to a dozen ideas to add, ways this made sense. The powerful robed and hooded figures I’d seen in my scry could easily be newborn vampires. The fact that we couldn’t find urban wolves now might be because they’d already all been murdered before the spawning vampires had decided to take on the whole South Coast Cooperative, while none of the wolves in those packs had ever known because they didn’t know London wolves existed. So the druids had been wrong about a suspect. But right about a link. A victim.

  I reeled in all of these thoughts—these notions, these options and wild ideas—right back from my mouth and down with my breakfast.

  Speculation. Not fact. Concepts to sit on and weigh and add to my notebook of suspects, clues, and points to consider. Not yet the winning hand in Clue. Still … so many new notes to make…

  I let out a careful breath as I practiced my—occasionally—deft skill at thinking before I spoke.

  Zar pushed a hand through his long, wavy hair and sighed. Also thinking.

  I finishe
d my banana and set peel and cereal mug aside on the plate.

  “Zar? Something else. The breathing? I had a whole lot of misconceptions about vampires. One of which being they … didn’t breathe. He was coughing and wheezing all over the place.”

  “Sure they breathe. How could they talk if they didn’t have air in their lungs? The disease that keeps them animated takes over their lung and brain functions and keeps them walking and talking. As far as I know, it can go on forever, as long as they can feed. There may be thousand-year-old vampires. But it’s only a real semblance of health and life for a very short time, like I said.”

  “Newborn.”

  He nodded.

  “Can they be stopped? If there are young vampires out there going after shifters? Like the stakes?”

  “Stakes, decapitation, burning, all will end a vampire. But you’ve got to catch them first.”

  “I’m pretty sure we could catch Dieter.”

  “But could we catch his son or daughter?” He looked at me.

  I felt a chill. Lifting my coffee mug, I stared into it.

  Don’t get carried away. Here to find two sources of answers. Vampires and London wolves. And don’t forget about the Beeches.

  Jed had long since gone from the room, for which I was glad.

  As far as anyone knew, the Beech Pack was the only one in the South Coast Cooperative to suffer no murder deaths. It wasn’t much to go on, but animosity seemed to run high, at least from the Sable Pack. And the only member of the Sable Pack who really knew the Beeches, who had, in fact, lived among them, was Jed.

  Now I was feeling a lot less keen on asking him questions.

  But I also had to be the one here making lists and trying to be a bit logical about leads. And that didn’t mean panicking at the first indication of vampires. It meant following up on anything substantial we already had and hunting for more.

  I swallowed bitter coffee, shut my eyes, shook my head, and blew out a breath.

  “We’ll have to look up this Max person and see if we can find him,” I said. “Dieter may be our one link to getting more information on what’s happening with the vampires—guilty or otherwise. Then back to searching for wolves tonight. And … if we can’t find wolves here, there’s still the Beech Pack.”