Blood Moon Magic

by Isobelle Carmichael

  I roll my eyes, “is she going to at least cover her goodies?”

  “Just barely. She showed Cara and me her dress, and I’m almost certain it’s supposed to be a tube top.”

  “You would think she’s over the hill or something judging by her desperation, but she’s only thirty-seven! I think it’s from all the human men she brings home!”

  “Well, that would do it. They call her a milf when she mentions her age. I told her she should lie to them,” Chey shrugs.

  I almost feel bad for her, but Ronnie is my frenemy at best. A kick-ass fighter; she falls into the gamma, or third rung, in our pack hierarchy. Chey is a beta or second tier. There can be multiple betas or gammas, but only one alpha, and one future alpha. It usually passes along patriarchal lines, but occasionally the fates choose a female to lead.

  “So, what did you decide to wear, Chey?”

  “My cheetah print dress, of course.”

  “Could you be any more obvious? That’s your on the prowl dress. Literally.”

  “Girl, I look fucking amazing in it, and we are supposed to be putting our best foot forward.”

  I can’t help but laugh because she’s right, and when Cheyenne’s perfect hourglass is in that dress, she’s a showstopper.

  The rest of the evening passes quickly, and before I know it, it’s time to return home. We call my Titi Sacha to take us home after the third bottle. Sacha is my mom’s older sister, and her official beta. She’s always around for me when I need her. After she drops us off, I decide to find my mother rather than heading straight to my suite of rooms.

  I locate my mother in her study, buried deep in pack drama. Running a pack is like being a CEO, a sorority president, a therapist, and a mom all rolled into one. When I was younger, I didn’t get it. I hated sharing her, but as I’ve started to shoulder some of her responsibilities, I can’t help but admire her. She’s not the warmest of mothers, but she’s mine. I wander into the room, kicking off my heels as I go, and head to her kitchenette to make a cup of tea before grabbing a book from the shelves. While she quietly finishes her work, I sit in silence reading and just enjoying being near her.

  I glance around her study, taking in the soft feminine decor. My mother likes pastels, so that’s how she chose to decorate her office. Light yellow oak furniture dominates the room. The walls are a soft green, and pillows in pale blues, greens, and gingham patterned pink throw pillows scattered across the couch and two arm chairs. I told her it looks like the easter bunny threw up in here, but she loves it. Even the carpet is a muted baby pink color. Purple is my favorite color, and I despise pastels, but I’m often in this room because it’s where she is. And It’s not easy to get her alone. Her study is pretty much off limits to anyone but me and my Titi Sacha unless it’s an emergency.

  I can feel my mind spinning as I process my dinner with Chey. The third bottle of wine really got us going, but since my mom is also my alpha, I calm down when I’m in her presence. While sitting beside her on the couch drinking a mug of tea, my mind drifts to how blessed I am to have an alpha of her caliber guiding me into my own power. My mother is one of the few female alphas; most shifter groups are lead by men. And now with the drop in birth rates among the races, it’s even rarer. Which is another reason our pack is so unique—we’ve always had female alphas. If I only knew life from our pack’s perspective, I would think it was normal. It was only when I began to shadow my mother to events as future alpha that it dawned on me. I saw the way the men looked at us. I even saw my mother fight a couple of alphas just to shut them up. Those were my favorite moments. It makes me so proud that she’s my mom and my alpha.

  To says it’s hard for her and our dwindling pack to survive in such harsh conditions, is an understatement. Other packs are constantly wanting to merge with us. Of course, by merge, what they really mean is take us over and breed with us.

  In my pack’s long history, which started in Mexico before migrating to what is now known as Arizona, we have had many male-driven packs try to overtake us. Our power runs in our females, and we have a lot of them. We mirror the Elders in that vein—remnants from our society being created by a female.

  In our pack, for every male born, there are five females to match. Which is why we’re having so much trouble; we need men, our population is dropping, and we’re close to dying out in a generation’s time. That’s a bitter pill to swallow considering we’re the Dama de Noche, the Queen of the Night pack, the Amazons of Arizona. We’re strong, phenomenal women who have fought off packs continually to maintain our independence. Our pack used to average over three hundred shifters, and once we even had over five hundred living in the arid desert we call our home. Now we’re struggling to maintain a fraction of that amount, dwindling to just about fifty. It has been beaten into my head since I was old enough to understand the state of our pack. It’s a heavy load to bear to know that you’re expected to sacrifice anything for the good of the pack. I sometimes wonder just how far that sacrifice is meant to go. As it is, we already give our blood to the Elders to ensure that our race survives.

  For all the good that’s doing.

  When shifters are forever challenging your alpha and trying to take over your pack, you learn that you need to bust a few noses and let everyone know that you’re not to be fucked with. So, we do just that. We’re strong and fierce, and we defend our own. We’re the baddest fucking fighters you can find in the Americas. A fact supported by my mother, who has been challenged more times than I can count, and has won every single challenge to date.

  Our reputation has only grown under her leadership in the last 30 years, but there’s been a downside. Unfortunately, her strength, and now mine, have damaged our pack’s ability to find suitable mates. When we started looking for a group of males to have a Claiming ceremony with, we started with wolves. Needless to say, it didn’t go well. I remember sitting in my mother’s office as she made calls to pack after pack. The last one was one of the worst.

  I can hear Alpha Carter of the Moon Guardians sneer through the phone when my mother proposes a Claiming ceremony between our packs. His words burning like the vitriol he infuses them with, “Your men are weak and submissive. They would never fit in here, and your women need to learn their place. The Moon Guardians deny your request for a Claiming ceremony.”

  “Learn our place?” my mom screams at the phone, “go fuck yourself,” she says, slamming it down on the receiver. It had been on speaker, but she clearly wanted to smash something, and it was within reach.

  Trying to help her see the bright side, I interject, “Alpha Carter may be a jackass, but the result would have been true enough. There would have been too many issues, Mom. Every time we try to bring new men into our pack, there’s always a dominance fight. Then, the same thing happens every time: they lose, and then they leave. We’re better off without them,” I finish, and she shoots me a glare.

  “We’re strong right now, Abigail, but it can’t last forever; we need more pack members. We need men for our women, and pups to strengthen our standing.” She throws her hands up and then yanks them through her hair in exasperation. My mother is a strong alpha, and she refuses to let our pack die.

  I shake my head as if I can clear the memory away and stare at my cup of cooled tea. That call with the Moon Guardians’ alpha was the last straw for my mother, and I knew that. I’m certain that’s when she started calling other species for Claiming ceremonies. It was concerning that the past few ceremonies we’d managed to have were unsuccessful. For some reason, we weren’t able to forge successful connections with other wolf packs. All of these facts explain why my mother has been so stressed and why it’s crucial for this ceremony to go well.

  I must admit that I am beyond nervous. We’ve planned for every detail and every possible outcome. That gives me some comfort. What sets me much more at ease is knowing my wolf has already scented at least one mate. Tomorrow, it’s my job to set the example and Claim my future mate if he is among the men introdu
ced to us. I promised Mom I would be civil and not punch anyone, but my fingers were crossed, so we’ll see.

  I glance at my mother now sprawled out on one of the luxurious leather couches of her den. She must have finished her work during my reminiscing. She’s reading a book with a glass of wine dancing precariously in her hand as she gets lost in her story.

  “Mom, what do I do if my wolf claims more than one dragon?” I ask her over my teacup.

  She startles a bit and barely stops the rich red wine from spilling onto the rug. Thank goodness for alpha reflexes.

  “Oh. Well, there’s a good chance of that happening; we’ve talked about this. The other alphas and I have noticed that shifter females are Claiming multiple mates more and more often to increase their chances of getting pregnant. If it happens, just go with it.”

  She continues, “After the Claiming you’ll have plenty of time to Bond. The Claiming may be immediate, but the Bonds take time to form. Your wolfs innate magic will connect with the magic in them. You might feel an electrical pulse, as your animals Claim each other. The lust will be instantaneous, but the love will take time to come.

  During that time you can work out what you and your Claimed mates can and can’t live with. Anyone can walk away if they can’t handle sharing. The ones who stay are meant to be. And remember it’s normal, and perfectly fine if your wolf Claims two or three dragons.”

  “Three dragons? What would I do with three men?” I ask, surprised.

  “I can think of a couple of things,” she grins.

  “Mom! Oh my goddess, no!” I start laughing to try to cover the awkwardness.

  “What? I’m just saying,” she grins. “And if you need some inspiration, one of our family journals has a very detailed explanation of a Blood Moon ritual with a quintet.”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just try to talk me into reading about a… a fivesome our ancestors had!” I grumble. “I’m going to grab some more tea; do you want some?”

  “No sweetheart, I’m going to finish this glass of wine and go to bed,” she says and smiles softly at me. “And you need to do the same.”

  “I just want to do a little more reading, and then I’ll head to bed. I promise,” I smile back.

  “Okay, sweetheart,” she says, picking up her glass and heading down to the hallway towards her rooms. She stops and turns to look at me. “I love you, Abigail, and I am so proud of the alpha you’re becoming. Tomorrow, you take the first steps towards reeling the Dama de Noche back from the brink, and I am honored that I will get to watch you do it.”

  “I love you too, Mom; you’re the best,” I whisper, emotion making the words sound strained, but I refuse to let myself cry.

  Her words remind me that I am saving my people tomorrow. I am becoming an alpha worthy of the Dama de Noche. A wide smile breaks across my face, and for the first time in ages, I am confident about the future. I was born for this, so maybe that means I can do this after all.

  After a few more minutes sitting alone, I give up on the book I chose. Instead, I grab the family journal she mentioned. I know it has some very graphic explanations of our most sexual rituals, complete with photos.

  This isn’t exactly light reading

  You will need it.

  Shaking my head, I grab my shoes from the floor and head to my room.

  I guess I’m reading a dirty journal tonight, and if this is any indication of what to expect tomorrow, I am not sure I’m ready.

  Chapter Three

  Abby

  Sunlight streams through my window, waking me. I turn towards the wall and try to bury my face into my pillow, trying to force myself back to sleep, but it’s not working.

  Thank you, nature’s alarm clock.

  Wake up; we must prepare.

  My wolf nudges me internally, and I give in, knowing she’s right.

  I’m always right.

  I wouldn’t go that far, but you’re right about this.

  A tiny traitorous piece of me that just wants to get laid, also known as my wolf, is very excited for today. My heart rate speeds up as it lands on the dress I have chosen for the Claiming. It’s short and black with a lacy scalloped edge on the bottom. It’s long sleeved, which my mother wasn’t a fan of because it covers my red crescent birthmark, but I don’t see the need to flaunt it today. I know I’m a future alpha.

  I push the comforter down and stretch, yawning as my mind goes into overdrive. All I can think about is what a long day I have ahead of me.

  Alright, time to do this.

  I climb out of my oversized bed and cross bleary-eyed to the bathroom. After taking a long shower so I can shave, deep condition—the works. I towel off and slick on an unscented lotion. I miss my regular body wash, but it could mess up the Claiming if the dragons can’t smell me. Shifters are all about natural scents, so it’s super important that I keep my natural scent unmasked. I take the towel off my head and let the thick strands tumble in wet clumps down my back, then blow dry and straighten my hair. My dark mane dries curly when left on its own, but I don’t want to take any chances with the curl gods today, so I’m going with the sleek look instead. I keep the makeup minimal but go for an old Hollywood glamour look with bold red lips and dramatic winged eyeliner. I’m attempting to draw a matching wing on my left eye when I hear the clomp of heels heading down the stairs.

  Crap, I’m going to be late.

  Hurriedly, I finish my makeup and slide into my dress, doing a little dance as I maneuver my zipper closed. Frantically, while looking for my shoes, I manage to stub my toe on the corner of my dresser.

  Shit! Ugh, that hurts.

  I hobble around and finally spot my stilettos under my desk as my wolf snorts.

  You’re so much less graceful in human form.

  You’re so helpful. You know, I almost miss the days when you didn’t talk.

  She chuffs and lays back down to rest.

  When I’m finally ready, I fly down the winding staircase, shoes in hand and head to the caravan of cars waiting in the driveway to take us to the Claiming. I spot my aunt waiting for me in the middle of our fleet of black sedans. Her long auburn hair is tied into an elaborate braid. Unlike my mother and I, she’s a statuesque 5’8”, with pale skin that reminds me of moonlight, and a light smattering of freckles across her nose. Her eyes maintain the unnatural yellow of her wolf at all times, and the effect is striking.

  “Titi Sacha, you’re taking me to the ceremony?” I ask.

  With her nod, I walk up to her car, ignoring the gravel that cuts into my feet. After giving her a quick hug, I slide into the passenger seat and buckle the seatbelt.

  “Don’t be nervous, sweetheart,” Sacha tells me as she closes the passenger side door and walks around to the driver’s side.

  “I’m not nervous,” I lie, biting my lip as I wait for her to buckle her seat belt.

  She arches her brow at me, and I sigh, “Okay, so I’m a little freaked out.”

  “This is about your mom and dad, huh?” she says, while putting the car into drive and following the convoy of vehicles that snake around the central courtyard. She turns her head and gives me a sympathetic smile.

  “Yes. Why won’t anyone talk to me about what happened? I’m their daughter; if anyone should know about my parent’s relationship, it’s me.” I cross my arms and stare out the window. “I don’t get why it’s such a huge secret.”

  “Well, to be honest, sweetie, I never met your father,” she admits, and I settle in for the short ride to our den bar, The Luna.

  “When your mom returned home to take her place as alpha ...” She’s quiet for a few moments before she continues. It’s as if she’s trying to tread lightly, and choosing which information is safe to share. “She told us your father had died and was already pregnant with you. So she just stepped into her role as alpha and never stopped.”

  “So, why does everyone talk about how epic their love story was if no one ever met him?” I ask.

  She suck
s her bottom lip into her mouth, nibbling on it as she navigates a hairpin turn on the way to the bar. That turn is the reason our bar has a dedicated shuttle now.

  “It was how she acted afterward. It was obvious to anyone who’s paid attention. Your mother was a wreck, and losing a mate is practically a death sentence, especially for an alpha. Your mother fought it because she had you, but most of us older packmates remember who she was before.”

  “Do you remember how they met?” I’m pressing my luck now, but the mystery shrouding my parents is annoying.

  “They met at the Alpha Summit,” she states as she puts on the turn signal and drives into the lot of The Luna. The elegant but understated outside of the building is covered in a light red stucco. The patio has vibrant patio furniture in bright oranges and cool blues nestled around fire pits.

  “I never knew that,” I reply, and I take in the pack members exiting their vehicles and heading inside. They’re dressed to find a man, and I must admit they look stunning. I wrestle my shoes on and hop out of the car.

  “Abby?” My aunt calls, snapping my attention back to her.

  “Yes, Titi?”

  “Your mother would kill me for telling you anything about your father, so don’t mention this to her, alright. Now go inside. I’ll be back in a few hours,” she says before I close the door and she starts pulling out of the parking lot. My aunt isn’t participating in the ceremony, so she refuses to stick around. I think she’s just as afraid to find her mate as I am, but she uses her age as a reason to beg off. To be honest, I’m glad she won’t be there. I’ve heard stories of some Claiming callings being so strong that the couple fucks right then and there. While we wolves are hardly shy, fucking a guy I just met in front of my family sounds super weird, even to me.

  Walking into the bar, I step into the chaos; it’s my job to oversee the final preparations of the Claiming ceremony. I generally love attending them since they are like a shotgun wedding mixed with a kick-ass reception. I have been to a few, but this is my first time participating. Since we aren’t fertile until twenty-five, we can’t participate in a Claiming until then. I’ve been a few of them, since as the next alpha knowing how to run them is important. Deep inside the part of me, that is marshmallow fluff and spice, I admit that this is both my most fervent wish and my deepest fear.