Bound by Fate (Moon Bound Series Book 1)

by Mandy Lou Dowson

  She followed, memorizing as best she could the trails and the clearings. There were copses of softwood competing for survival in amongst the giant hardwoods like the majestic oak and the greenest ginkgo trees. The softwood conifers rising like giant stalagmites yearning for the sun always made Beth feel dizzy and insignificant. The thought that these trees were seeded here before even her village elders were born served to remind her that life goes on, whether she wanted it to or not.

  “Donovan?” she queried, pointing to a small hare scampering across the trail ahead of them.

  He grinned, releasing the clasp of his belt with one hand while pulling his shirt over his head with the other. Beth stepped out of her trainers, sliding her jeans over her hips, she let them fall to pool around her ankles while pulling her own shirt off.

  Before Donovan had stepped out of his own footwear, Beth stood before him panting in her wolf-form. With a wry twist to his lips, he swung his head to keep track of their prey. You snooze, you lose, Beth thought, taking after the wild hare. White fur flashed as the hare tried to out pace her, his long paws thumping the ground like a heartbeat. Beth stalked it easily, herding it out into the clearing to the right. If it reached the small copses and shrubs they’d never find it again.

  As she directed the animal, she flicked a glance back and found Donovan hard on her heels. He was swift and sleek, dark as coal and powerful as a bear. She could well imagine him leading the hunt, tracking the prey and taking it down in one almighty lunge.

  He loped around to flank the hare, sending it scurrying back toward Beth. It had no choice, its instincts told it that the smaller wolf was the lesser threat, so it took the only choice available. Ahead of it was a stream and behind it to either side were the wolves. It tried to cut across Beth, darting its hind legs out of reach of her swiping paw. Beth growled in frustration and leaped, landing upon the frightened animal in victory.

  There she pinned it with an outstretched paw, easily holding it no matter how it wriggled and writhed. Donovan sauntered to her side, sparing the struggling hare barely a glance before snapping at Beth’s foreleg, willing her to release her prey. She did, slowly watching it beat feet towards the small grove to her left.

  Earning a reprieve, the hare disappeared into the dense undergrowth while Beth began to trot back towards her discarded pile of clothes. Donovan was right – she would hunt in truth this evening – there was no need to kill the hare. She remembered him explaining the method of conservation. There would be no hunting for fun on Tall Grass lands. Her human half recognized and even commended that, but her wolf wanted to bite into the soft underbelly of the hare, ripping intestines and flesh free. Unsatisfied, she growled softly in warning as Donovan nipped at her flanks.

  She was in no mood to play. She’d wanted the taste of the kill. The thrill of the chase was nothing without the satisfaction of completion. This was just one more thing she had to get used to. Before her mate could realize the mood she was in, she flashed him a quick wolf-grin, baring her teeth and growling softly. Something to be said for no pack ties, she thought. He can’t read my mind.

  “It’s not very practical to show you around the trails in wolf-form,” he announced as soon as he’d shimmered back into human-form, crouched down on his powerful thighs. He really was a fine specimen, and Beth appreciated the view.

  Whining, she shimmered back herself, reluctantly shaking off her wolf-form to assume her two-legged stance. She lost track of the time as they wandered through the wood, trees standing tall and proud, vague bubbling sounds indicating a stream in the vicinity. There certainly were plenty of signs of wildlife, she mused. Tracks here, there and everywhere. It shouldn’t be too hard to find something delicious in this forest.

  “I have to get back,” Donovan told her as he led her toward the clearing she had spent the afternoon digging in the soft earth. She nodded distractedly. “I have a meeting with my father,” he announced, immediately putting her on edge. “Perhaps I will see you for the hunt.” His soft, callous-free fingertips trailed down her cheek, and turned her face up for his farewell kiss.

  It was a chaste meeting of lips, which took no longer than the blink of an eye, and then she was alone, Donovan lightly jogging toward the path. She decided now was a good a time as any to track down the sinuous Mistress of the Dance.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  The door to the Common House swung open to reveal a sparsely populated area. Only two wolves lay, curled up by the fire, regarding her with lazy eyes. “Alanna?” she inquired. Both wolves shook their heads slightly. She nodded her thanks, backing out. She would search a while and then return to her room to await tonight’s hunt. She had a good ninety minutes or so before the sun began its descent.

  She must live in one of these cottages, Beth thought to herself, frustrated. Where was everyone? The village seemed strangely deserted and she wondered if there was an event nobody had thought to mention to her. The first home she approached belonged to the apprentice healer, Felicity, as she found out shortly after issuing a light knock upon the pine door. “I’m sorry for disturbing you, Felicity,” Beth hastened to apologize. No wonder there had been no sign of the apprentice in the clearing – she looked like death warmed up. “Are you quite well?”

  The woman gazed upon her, half dazed with watery eyes and a sheen of sweat upon her brow. She had a high color reminiscent of a temperature. “Oh, I’m fine, Beth.” The pretty mouth curled into a rueful smile. “Lady problems,” she explained softly.

  “Ah,” Beth replied just as softly. She was obviously in the iron grip of a monstrous heat, and her mate was absent. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

  “No, sweet thing,” she smiled again, like a ray of sunshine and a lock of her wheat-colored hair fell upon her lips. “My mate shall arrive presently. But what can I do for you?”

  All thoughts of Alanna had suddenly flown from Beth’s mind and she struggled to remember her reason for calling. “Oh, I was looking for…Alanna, yes.” Scarlet flooded her cheeks as she realized she had been staring at the woman in a stupor. She was perhaps the most amazing specimen of the female of the species Beth had ever seen. She wondered who her mate was. Lucky man, she thought. Whoever he is.

  Felicity pointed to a circular building, not large, but far from small with a dark curtain hanging in lieu of a door. “You will find her within,” she cleared her throat.

  “Thank you, Felicity,” Beth replied with a frown. The poor woman. No female should ever get to the point in her heat where she was literally sickening for want of her mate.

  “Beth!” gasped the Mistress of Dance, shifting the curtain to one side and inviting the younger she-wolf inside. “Do come in. I have just literally tuned my lyre. Perhaps we can have a glass of wine and discuss the dance.”

  “I’d be very grateful.” Ducking her head, Beth stepped through the crude entrance into a humid circular room. Well what shape did you expect, dummy? she admonished herself for being foolish. There was a fire in the very center, smoke tendrils winding and twisting their way to the smoke-hole in the ceiling. Sparks flew and the fire crackled in welcome. Beth folded her legs beneath her and perched on a plump ground cushion, taking in her surroundings.

  At first glance it appeared a very plain room. The central fire, the focal point of the room, surrounded by over sized floor pillows and decadent rugs, while the walls were hung with tapestries of women in various dance positions. “They’re wonderful,” Beth announced, indicating toward the wall-hangings.

  “Oh yes,” she breathed. The woman really was the very embodiment of sensuality. “Some of those hangings are hundreds of years old, handed down from one Mistress to the next. This one here,” she pointed to a graceful depiction of a woman half-shimmered, eyes glowing silver, and claws elongating, frozen in the middle of a twirl. “The kind ladies in the weaving house made this one.”

  “Margo and Marybell?”

  “I see you are acquainted with them. Wise old women, those two,” her eyes
sparked mischief. “But nosey as all hell!”

  Both women erupted in giggles and Beth took the proffered glass of wine with a wrinkle of her nose. “Not a fan?”

  “Oh,” she apologized. “Not very. I’m afraid I rather over indulged over dinner recently.”

  “In the Great House?” Alanna inquired, with a knowing smile. Beth nodded. “I wouldn’t drink that swill if the Alpha paid me! Trust me, Beth. You’ll appreciate this vintage a lot more.”

  “If you say so,” Beth carefully tipped the glass and let a few drops slip into her mouth. An explosion of pure and sweet fruit erupted on her tongue. Oh yes, there was a lot to appreciate in this particular wine. “Delicious,” she admitted with a broad smile. “It tastes like fresh fruit after a tropical storm, full of electricity and wild power.”

  “Oh you’re good,” the Mistress replied smiling. “That’s exactly what I was trying to achieve.”

  “You made this?”

  A smile and a nod were her answer. The lithe woman shimmied her way to fold herself onto a cushion near Beth and reached towards a cloth-covered shape by the wall. “But this,” she inclined her dark head toward the item. “This is my pride and joy.”

  Beth stared in fascination as the Mistress pulled the cloth free to reveal an instrument she had never in her life seen before. It was a harp, but not a harp. Where a harp was triangular, this was like a one-dimensional chalice, filled not with fruit of the vine, but with shimmering strings, joined at the top by a crossbar of shining wood. It shone in the firelight like a rare jewel, which Beth supposed it was. She doubted it was a reproduction. “Also handed down from Mistresses past?”

  “Oh my, yes.” She stroked the instrument like a lover, running her hands over the curling lips, plucking at a string here and there, using a small plectrum hanging from a ribbon, letting the musical notes drift lazily on the air.

  Using her left hand to repress the melodious tunes of the strings she wanted hushed, Alanna played a deep, sensual tune that made Beth’s head sway. Nodding toward the clutter-free circle surrounding the fire, the Mistress invited Beth to dance for her. She did so, helpless to disagree in body or mind.

  Her hips swayed and swished, her hands flowed to the beat of the music and her eyes closed in pure bliss. Giving herself over to the music, she let it take her on a sinuous journey around the flames, slowly undulating and winding her body in perfect time. By the time Alanna had let the last note fade into the ether, Beth had done two trips around the enormous fire and her breath was coming heavy and fast.

  “I don’t think you need much instruction, Beth,” she called joyfully, draining her glass of the deep, red liquid. “Your previous Mistress taught you well.”

  “Could have been the stick,” Beth replied with a grin. She had no idea where the dance came from, only that she had to obey it. If she’d danced so fluidly in the clearing with Patina before her mating ceremony, she might have saved herself a few bruises and admonishments.

  Alanna laughed delightedly and invited Beth to resume her seat. “So,” she inclined her head fractionally, night eyes twinkling merrily. “How are you finding life in Tall Grass?”

  “Honestly?” Alanna nodded. “Strange. There are so many different customs to get used to, and so many new people. I hadn’t thought of it all when I left my old pack, so used to their ways, I suppose.” She sighed. “It all seems too much, sometimes.”

  “I came here from a different territory, also,” Alanna admitted quietly. “Many years ago. Tall Grass was in need of a Mistress of the Dance, and my Mistress was not yet ready to hand the pack into my hands. So when I was approached, I jumped at the offer.” She refilled her glass, politely offering to top up Beth’s and replacing the stopper on the crystal decanter when Beth assured her she still had wine aplenty. “My pack too, had differing customs and traditions. It was difficult to settle in at first. But then I made a friend,” she smiled. “And it all fell into place after that.”

  Alanna’s eyes flicked toward the tapestry of the half-shimmered woman, with sadness and regret shining in their dark depths. “She helped me find my place here.”

  “Who is she?” Beth asked respectfully.

  “Lissa.”

  The Alpha’s infamous rogue wife. Something in Beth’s throat tightened and she cleared it before rising to inspect the visage of the woman who had so thoroughly broken her terrifying father-in-law. “She’s stunning.”

  “She was,” Alanna replied, not completely in charge of her emotions. Anger simmered there, Beth could see. “You remind me of her,” she whispered. “I’d like to be your friend, Beth, if you’d let me.”

  “A girl can’t have too many friends, or too few enemies, right?”

  The night was alive with energy. Beth could feel the excitement riding the air. She walked, half dragging poor September along in her wake, towards the meeting point at the entrance to the trails.

  “I’m not sure this is such a good idea,” the girl whispered, fearfully.

  “It’s a great idea,” Beth assured her. “I need to join in pack life here.”

  “I wasn’t talking about you,” she replied, almost stumbling over an exposed root. The girl really wasn’t in tune with her wild instincts.

  “I know.” She wasn’t letting her get out of it. September had been living here for too long now to not have fully accepted her new life. Beth was hoping to change that in time, starting with tonight’s hunt. The moon rode low in the darkening sky, almost full. Almost fat. She shivered, feeling the power in the cool air. The wind teased her hair, tickling the small of her back where her vest rode up, raising goose bumps.

  She sighed. “September,” she began. “You’ve not once joined the hunt.” The girl shook her head dejectedly. “Neither have I. So, you see, this is the perfect time for us both.” The girl’s eyes were wide with apprehension, and Beth stopped to give her a quick hug. “I promise everything will go just fine. If I’m wrong, you can feel free to never join a hunt again, if that’s what you want. Deal?”

  “Deal,” the girl replied reluctantly, squeezing Beth hard before stepping back with a tremulous smile.

  “Good girl”

  There were about a dozen wolves ready for the hunt. Some were already in wolf-form, while others still stood around chatting, hyping each other up. Beth slipped in easily, towing September behind her. She made sure not to stand too close to Mickey, but not far enough away that September wasn’t aware of his presence. It was time they both got over this situation.

  “Beth.” The soft voice belonged to Felicity, who was indeed looking much better this evening, her high color having dissipated to leave a healthy, well-sated expression on her pretty face.

  Beth’s eyebrows drew together. Usually a mating pair holed up for however long it took for the heat to pass, taking the time to please, tease and love one another. She was surprised to see Felicity so soon after their meeting this afternoon. “Felicity. I’m glad you’re feeling better,” she replied diplomatically. “I hadn’t expected to see you tonight?” Beth knew she was prying, framing it as a question rather than a statement, but her innate curiosity got the better of her nine times out of ten.

  “Duties,” she replied slowly. “Shale is required elsewhere tonight, and the pack always has a healer to hand on a hunt.”

  “Of course. How silly of me.” But she hadn’t forgotten the snippet of over-heard conversation she’d caught when passing Felicity’s home for the second time, on her way back from Alanna’s.

  “You cannot be serious!” The statement was spat with as close to venom as Beth had ever heard.

  “As serious as I’ve ever been.” The reply was calm and indeed, stoically serious.

  “But…” she had faltered then, evidently shocked or hurt or both. “We are…”

  “I know, sweet Felicity,” came the unemotional reply. “But it was an arrangement of convenience, was it not?”

  “Yes, but–”

  “Nothing!” he interrupted harshly. “I
have made up my mind. It will be dissolved. Prepare yourself.”

  “Yes, Alpha.”

  “Good girl,” Bradley replied softly. “We both knew it could come to this some day.”

  “Yes, Alpha,” she repeated again, her voice breaking a little in what sounded like unhappy capitulation.

  Beth again wondered fiercely what relationship Bradley and the apprentice had. Obviously it was one-sided, in favor of the Alpha. She wouldn’t expect anything better of that sort of man, and was not surprised. Perhaps Bradley was even the mate Felicity had spoken of? Ridiculous, she scoffed at herself. What possible reason would a woman such as Felicity have for involving herself in a clandestine relationship with the Alpha? None that Beth could see.

  “I hear you have an interest in Herb Lore, Beth?” Felicity asked now, staring directly into her eyes.

  “Oh, yes,” she replied. “I suppose I have some catching up to do, really. Bradley tells me that every juvenile in the pack has some knowledge of each craft.” The apprentice nodded slowly, wincing minutely at the mention of the Alpha. “It was not so in my old pack,” Beth explained. “Our strengths were assessed as juveniles and we were taken on by a Mistress or a Master depending on those strengths.”

  Felicity’s brows drew together. “That is unfortunate.”

  “Yes, well, I didn’t think so at the time.” Beth offered the other woman a wry twist of her lips and tried to explain the fact that she’d had a lot more free time than the children here evidently did.

  “It keeps them from mischief,” Felicity replied, confused. “There is no harm in that.”

  “And no harm in most mischief, either,” Beth answered, spying September edging away from the group to sit alone on an old, gnarled stump. “Excuse me, please. I must see to September.”

  “Of course,” the apprentice waved her excuse away. “She will need to be closely watched tonight,” she surmised.

  “I’ll keep her close.”