Moonlight Journey: A Reverse Harem Shifter Romance (The Witch and the Wolf Pack Book 6)

by K. R. Alexander

  “So I’m awake?”

  “Yes, I should think so.”

  I let out a breath. “That’s so weird…”

  “For you as well?”

  “Sorry. Am I weirding you out? I just … I’ve never done lucid dreaming before and gotten confused about it. Then again, I’ve never done it much at all.”

  “Perhaps you need a bit more practice?”

  I stifled a laugh against his chest as I ducked my head. “Go back to sleep.”

  “I must let Jed in.”

  “Oh. Yes … so … that wasn’t a dream either? Jed is outside?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Did you say you missed me?”

  “I did.”

  “Did you see the brown speckled songbird with a yellow chest?”

  “What?”

  “Did you hear a bird call? In the distance maybe?”

  “Not tonight.”

  “No … okay. Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. Perhaps next time it would be best to make notes right away when you wake up from one?”

  “Probably. Zar?”

  Nothing.

  “I thought we’d woken him,” I continued. “Will you let Jed in?”

  “He’s not back.”

  “Would you get him? I can’t sleep with him out like that.”

  “You just thought you were asleep.” But I could hear the smile in his voice as he disengaged. “It’s all right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Much as I hated to get up, when Isaac stepped outside I slipped to the bathroom, taking my phone to light the screen and avoid turning on a real light.

  Back in bed, I waited, listening to Zar, until I heard their steps.

  Jed’s claws scraped the concrete sidewalk.

  Isaac locked the chain on the door after them and Jed padded through the room.

  “Let’s take a look at that before you keep it,” Isaac whispered. “Is it fresh? No maggots in here…”

  Goddess, Jed had brought something back to the room that might have maggots? Visions of roadkill swimming before my eyes, I sniffed. I couldn’t detect anything. But it reminded me that Jed could: he would be able to smell what Isaac and I had been up to. Since I hadn’t dreamt the whole thing.

  Then again, I don’t think Jed was paying much attention to us. He accompanied Isaac to the bathroom, where Isaac switched on the light, muttered over something, then darkness once more.

  He returned to bed while Jed flopped on the floor in the corner. Scrape, scrape, of his teeth. Had he only brought in a stick?

  “What is it?” I whispered as Isaac again enveloped me.

  “Steak bone,” Isaac murmured. “He must have pinched it from rubbish at the pub a couple doors down.”

  Again, I nearly laughed, pressing my face to his newly cool skin, light and giddy thinking of every angle: Jed had wanted out for a steak bone—not to say hello to this new frontier. The absurdity of risking being seen for such a thing. Mostly, though, the wide awake reality that I was in the middle of the United States of America in a cheap motel with six wolves who called stealing, trash, and a bar, “pinching,” “rubbish,” and a “pub.”

  And, Goddess, we’d just landed.

  Chapter 2

  I’d thought the airports, hours on planes, and keeping Zar and Jed calm would have been the hardest parts. Instead, the rental car had turned out to be my biggest stress. Not that there hadn’t been touch-and-go moments before then.

  For example, Zar had decided at our layover in Reykjavík that he would go for a walk. Outside. Which had made Jed realize that—of course—this was exactly what he’d needed to keep his own sanity as well. A nice walk around the runways for our layover would be just the ticket.

  It was a bit odd because the brothers certainly understood restrictions—loss of personal freedom and obeying their silvers. Even so, I’d spend half an hour trying to explain why we could not simply go outside and walk around an international airport, while Zar had been inching toward a panic attack and Jed nearly got away from us to let himself out. I’d had to use a magic energy barrier for Jed to walk into, calling him back, then dragged Zar to sit on the floor against a wall of glass where he could see outside.

  I’d held onto his head, talking to him about the high desert of New Mexico where I’d lived my teenage years; about roadrunners, rattlesnakes, and coyotes. Jed had joined us and I’d told them about skiing, flash floods, and dust devils. Still holding Zar’s face against my shoulder, I’d taken Jed’s hand while he watched outside.

  “Are there total wolves?” Jed had asked while I’d wished I’d slipped Zar a tranquilizer before the flight. But I really hadn’t thought he’d be the biggest problem.

  “They’re in Yellowstone. There are some in the Cascades these days. But I’m not sure where all they’ve been reintroduced or spread. Should we find out?”

  I’d produced my phone and we’d spent the remainder of the layover looking at range maps for gray wolves, red wolves, and Mexican wolves—both of the latter being nearly extinct in the wild, so rather depressing. Then cheered at least myself with coyote range maps: coyotes, it turned out, ruled North America.

  Zar had calmed his panic breathing in my hair, saying nothing, while Jed asked if we could meet any. Like I could call up total wolves for him and arrange an introduction.

  Focusing on practical details had also helped. We had to split up for passport control—them with UK passports and me with US—but this was a quick set of lines and a fast screening. It gave me the chance to praise them for having passports at all—talk about something else. It had turned out the whole Sable Pack did. Isolated as they seemed, Diana believed in keeping connections with packs like Landesgrenze in Germany and Rivière Rouge in France. They needed passports even for such close visits, which would have been a bit like me needing one for southern California—so more understandable that “passport control” wasn’t a death knell to this last-minute trip.

  I’d been afraid to leave them even for a bathroom break, forced instead to wait until we were back on the plane. A vexing condition, but no one had tried to break a window and all had been soothed by taking a shuttle bus out to the plane and being able to stand on the tarmac for a good fifteen minutes in the sun. We’d been the last to board up the metal steps.

  Zar in an aisle, me in the middle, and Jed in another aisle seat a couple rows up from us: I’d put my arms around Zar and he again pressed into me, silent, hiding from too much reality. After a couple of hours, when he was calm and could watch a movie, I was finally able to get up and move around myself, asking the brothers to switch seats so neither had to sit next to a mundane all the way to Denver.

  Jed had in ear plugs and wasn’t interested in the in-flight entertainment, but I’d managed to interest him in snacks. Plus I’d explained it was fine for him to stand in the aisle all he wanted as long as the seatbelt sign was off and he stepped into his own seat if someone else needed the walkway.

  He’d asked again if we could go to Yellowstone, if we could meet total wolves. I’d told him we had to find shamans first—perhaps they would point us toward somewhere we could see total wolves? At which he asked about bears: could we meet grizzly bears?

  “I hope not. But you never know, Jed. You’ll be amazed how much wildlife you see in these western states.”

  He had said no more, only thinking about that. Indeed, both brothers had been practically silent for the whole trip aside from the going outside argument.

  Then landing, customs, meeting the others in the Denver airport. No one had a checked bag. I’d even left mine with Gabriel. So our next move had been the rental car lot. That was when a stressful journey had become almost impossible.

  I’d booked us a van the day before, as we’d made arrangements from London. I’d never driven a van. I’d never driven in Denver. I was so tired I could hardly see straight. So relieved the others were fine and we’d all made it here with no international security issues or heart att
acks, I wouldn’t have cared if we’d slept there in the airport. But I was also—in an alarming role reversal—the only member of the pack with a license that worked in this country.

  Ten minutes away. The motel was only ten minutes, heading north. Not a big city drive or cross country trip. I could drive a van for ten minutes to a motel before my own crash. At least the steering wheel was on the left side of the vehicle.

  The Chrysler Pacifica turned out to be just about the best we could have hoped for—short of a bus. There were the usual three van seats in the back—not comfortable for three wolves in any form to cram into. But the other three passenger seats were freestanding, the two behind driver and passenger mostly matching the latter. So three wolves had their own personal space, plus the driver. Leaving three to suffer in the back.

  We had a “talk” before I got behind the wheel. I was nervous about driving the thing, didn’t know where we were, exhausted, had a very long day, and needed Isaac to sit up front and navigate. I also needed the others to please make their seat selections with love for their fellow travelers in mind, and be quiet and respectful while I sorted out that van and we made our way to the Sunrise Inn.

  The airports and hours on the planes had been rough, but making that drive had made me sweat far more.

  Even so, it wasn’t disastrous. First, because the vehicle wasn’t that bad. Yes, it would need getting used to. No, it wasn’t a tractor trailer. Give me a bit of spatial relations practice and I’d have it mastered. Second, because the drive was made as if in church.

  Isaac had given quiet, consistent instructions without any last-minute, “That’s your turn!” stuff happening, and paid attention to his job rather than the scenery. The rest, seated wherever they’d found themselves behind us without complaint, had remained dead quiet besides soft comments—I couldn’t hear what they said—without any hostility.

  I had the most wonderful pack. I’d told them so once we’d reached the motel. Right before the arguing had started about sleeping arrangements. Still … can’t win them all.

  I had, though. Waking to find the sun actually up next time, I was very grateful to have won Isaac in that double coin toss. I’d have been happy with any—although Andrew might have been awkward since he and I were not on sleeping terms—but I’d especially needed Isaac last night.

  Shower; breakfast; having to sort out the day. Getting ready to look for shifter shamans.

  The Sunrise Inn served a continental breakfast. I had coffee and snatched a banana for later. My companions emptied out the muffins and milk jugs, but did not otherwise pillage the place, so all still well.

  We returned our bounty to Kage, Jason, and Andrew’s room since Zar had still been in bed and Jed hadn’t even changed when Isaac and I had gone out for the breakfast and check-out.

  Until I felt safe scrying again I had only lucid dreaming and little I could do to help find shamans. Even so, I’d already seen a good deal. I was fairly certain of two things: the shaman shifters were Native American coyotes and they were somewhere roughly in the Colorado to Montana area.

  I’d wondered if they were on a reservation. Having looked at maps, though, I suspected they were simply living communally—just as the Sable Pack did.

  Unfortunately, this made the search boundary vast. At least we had reason to believe there were shifters in the Rocky Mountains, and my own visions had made me strongly favor Colorado as the place. Zar, and other sources we’d talked to—including Diana and Scottish foxes—had been certain shifters were plentiful out here in general. We didn’t have to happen exactly upon shamans. Surely anyone who knew of them would help us. And my wolves could sniff out if there were shifters in an area.

  Doable. Yes.

  Timeframe? That was what scared me.

  Today, though, we were jet-lagged, dazed, six out of seven finding themselves in a new and overwhelming country they’d never set foot in before, most of them having flown for the first time in their lives yesterday. Of course, we all knew how urgent our mission was. But, today, just get ready. Tomorrow the real work could begin.

  Boulder first: camping gear, food, pet store, dinner.

  Then a town called Estes Park would be our launching place and base for a couple nights. This gateway to tourism of the Rocky Mountains in the east gave me high hopes for a place to find American shifters in and of itself. We had a cabin reserved in a campground for a night and a place to park outside of town.

  Over coffee and these plans with the others, I wondered about my dreams.

  The gifts my guide had given me? The path, the moonlight, I understood. The bird? He had been so specific. I started to search on my phone for yellow songbirds but didn’t at once turn up a likeness and was distracted by Zar calling my name out front. He and Jed were also ready to face the day.

  Was I ready to face the Chrysler Pacifica and the road to Boulder?

  Funny thing about this morning: everyone was still tired, being civil to each other and looking to me for our next move. My dreams felt good, affirming, not nightmares this time. And Boulder, even Estes Park, with a population less than 7,000, was home to a dizzying array of restaurants.

  Twenty muffins later, we were ready to go.

  Kage and Jason—who were, thank Goddess, back together and comfortable in close quarters—sat in the back with Andrew. Zar and Jed had the desired middle seats. Isaac was again responsible for navigating.

  I was smiling as we set out. It still seemed crazy to be on this trip at all—a long-shot, a money sinkhole. But I was glad we were here.

  “Boulder, supplies, then Estes Park,” I told Isaac before raising my voice to call to the back, “Any of you ever had real barbecue?”

  Isaac chuckled. “We’ll think we’re dreaming.”

  I glanced at him and back to the road. “I’ll never hear the end of that, will I?”

  “Possibly not.” Isaac smiled at the map on his phone.

  Chapter 3

  Finding places to buy camping gear in Boulder was like finding grass on a golf course. The wolves liked the smaller shops but we had to visit REI for the range of gear.

  Isaac and Zar shopped with me while Kage, Jason, and Andrew paid for the instructed rock climbing experience. Jed watched but refused to participate—which would have been admitting to a shared interest with “those bastards.”

  Two-person tent, quick to assemble, super lightweight. Light sleeping bag and slender foam mat. Freeze dried meals, just add cold water—yum. A real hiker’s backpack, a first-aid kit, assorted protein bars, a sun hat, the most natural and least offensive bug repellent I could find to be around sensitive noses, water filtration tablets, water bottles, and more.

  The water would be cold because—so I was informed in REI—there was a drought this summer and a fire ban in place all over the area. A very helpful Asher, however, told me how to make instant coffee with cold water, plus where to go for little creamers, the coffee, and strainer, so I could have what amounted to iced lattes on the trail. Thank you, Asher.

  They asked me to rock climb, which I would have gladly tried, but we needed to move on.

  Whole Foods next. Another holdup in the parking lot as I wouldn’t let them all come in.

  “Just looking. Don’t know why you think we can’t be—”

  “No, Kage, I know that. I’m sure you’d be fine. It’s just … in and out. Quick, easy.”

  Was I insisting on too much? Micro-managing again? Where was the divide between efficient, respectful leadership and simply too much control? Would it hurt to turn six wolves loose in Whole Foods?

  Yes, it would. Maybe that was the divide. That was when to know to insist.

  “Stay right with you—” Kage started.

  “I will personally select a treat for each of you who stay out here to watch the van for us.”

  “Not your guard dogs—”

  “And the greatness of the treat will be proportional to the lack of resistance and argument about getting it.”

 
Kage gazed across the brilliantly sunny parking lot.

  The others also seemed nonchalant, looking at their shoes—everyone had street shoes, no motorcycle boots for this trip.

  The day was scorching, yet didn’t feel as hot as it should have with the dry mountain air—the elevation actually palpable in the feel of the place. And we weren’t into the real mountains yet. Nana and I had once driven across the Rockies accompanied by the sounds of potato chip bags exploding in the back seat from the altitude pressure.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I was with Zar and Jed all day yesterday. And Isaac last night. Kage, why don’t you keep the keys and check stuff off our to-do list, or add, while Isaac finds us a pet store to visit next. We’ll be right back.”

  Jason and Andrew slipped surreptitiously after me as I started for the front doors. Kage still appeared grudging, glaring after Jason—who had the sense to assume an expression of gravity.

  “Ever had frozen custard?” I called back. “Isaac, I don’t know if we’re far enough east for it, but look that up also. See if there’s a place in Boulder.”

  Inside, we collected more camp food, then hit the hot food, deli, and salad bar area, leaving Jason and Andrew starstruck. Jason’s mouth was open: motionless at sight of the rows of hot chicken tenders, fries, macaroni and cheese, and on and on.

  “How do you get the bin out?” he whispered to me.

  “You don’t take the whole compartment. It’s a buffet. I’ll show you. We’ll take some to everyone. Don’t you have buffets in England?”

  “Blimey,” Andrew breathed, dropping a hand on Jason’s shoulder. “It’s all true, mate. Everything they say about this place.”

  “About Whole Foods?” I asked.

  “About the States.”

  “You guys have never been to a real buffet? I’ll regret this, but we’ll try to find an old school American one while we’re still in the country.”

  “There are more of them?” Jason asked.

  I smiled and showed them the routine with boxes to fill.

  We returned to the rest of the pack with a box for each, plus a watermelon that Kage broke in the parking lot and passed unwillingly around.