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

by K. R. Alexander

  “I’m concerned about the amount of time you’re spending either in skin, trying to be with me even though you’re not happy, or in fur staying close, or coming back to the tent when you should be out. When you’re in fur and I brush you or throw a ball for you, it doesn’t mean anything … romantic. It’s just friendly for me. Because of the shape you’re in. My thinking is not flexible like that. There’s such a disconnect. Intimate romantic or physical relationships with any of you happen for me because of the time we spend when you’re in a form like me—when my brain is tricked into saying, ‘human man,’ even though I know you’re not. Does that make sense?”

  Jed only watched me. If I had to take a guess, I’d say the answer was, No. And maybe, Why would you want to think of us as worms? Yuck.

  “Okay … for right now, there are a couple things that would help us. First of all, when you spend time with me in skin, let’s talk. I want to know what you’re thinking about this. Second, what I really want is for you to enjoy your time here. We’re heading for the Tetons and Yellowstone today. You can’t tell me that’s not bucket list for you. Go out in fur and enjoy it. Help us find shamans. Please. You and I can talk when we’re back in England. If you have an idea for something that you would like that we can do together—not dinner, but maybe going for a walk, something simple—we can do that sometime. Not here. Here, be yourself and get the most out of this. All right?”

  He inched his nose closer until he touched my hand on my pillow.

  “You know … I think my petting you and brushing you is a ‘Do as I say, not as I do,’ situation. You’re seeing a physical connection in your mind that’s what I would be seeing if I was touching you in skin in my mind. Disconnect, see?”

  He pressed his nose below my hand, wriggling in until it was over his muzzle and his nose was buried in the pillow.

  I pulled my hand away. “You try to see things more from my perspective—which is that romantic relationships are skin exclusive. And I’ll try to see things more from yours—which doesn’t separate, right? You’re thinking of me like a wolf. And I’m thinking of you too much as a canine myself when you’re in that form, rather than saying to myself to think of you as the same person in either form and treat you the same. Which, if I did, would mean no petting. It’s not like I run my hands through your hair in skin.”

  I hoped this would be a click for him. An ah-ha moment. Different species, different expectations and visions of the world and relationships.

  Jed had weaseled his muzzle below the pillow up to his eyes, however, and it dawned on me that he wasn’t listening. In fact, his tail wagged a little across the bed as he wriggled to me.

  I longed to hug his wooly neck like a teddy bear, he was so enticing. But not enticing like he thought I was enticing—which was how he thought I was showing affection if I did such a thing; which was the whole point…

  I kept my hands to myself. In fact, I had to sit up, almost falling off the bed as he crowded me.

  He looked up.

  “Let’s try something new. I will do my very best to interpret this relationship through your eyes. Which means convincing my brain that you are always the same—that is thinking of you in fur as if you were in skin. If I’d woken up to you, alone in here with me, lying on my bed, in my face, naked in skin, I would probably have mildly flipped out on you. If you want to be thought of the same—skin, fur, no difference to you—let’s give that a try.”

  Jed cocked his head.

  I raised my voice. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get off my bed!”

  He recoiled slightly, eyes wounded, then craned his neck to lick my chin.

  I hit him in the face with a magic energy disk like punching someone on the nose.

  Jed leapt back with a yelp to the far side of the bed, tail between his legs, hackles up.

  “I said move,” I snapped. “If you want a more intimate relationship with me you have to work at it. You don’t just show up in bed with nothing on when I’m asleep. Go get dressed and get some breakfast if you want it. We’ve got to get out of here.”

  He stared, traumatized, eyes wide and ears flat. He jumped off the bed and, hackles still up, darted under the desk—which chair was pulled out from last night.

  He did not head for the bathroom or any clothes.

  I bent forward, sitting up in bed with my face in my hands. “Goddess, Jed. Do you seriously not listen to anything I say? Because I explained what I was doing first. I’m trying to role play that you’re in skin. Okay? Just like you treat me like I’m in fur. I’m trying to meet you on your level and for us to better grasp one another’s points of view. Did you miss that?”

  He remained under the desk, wadded against the wall and taking up the whole space, watching me with those hurt eyes. Like I’d blasted him in the face with an air horn in the middle of a make-out session.

  I sat back, rubbing my neck. “Okay … Jed…”

  The keycard clicked and the door opened.

  Dammit…

  It was Zar, beaming to see me awake. I knew exactly what he would have.

  Yes: a plate of buttered waffles with fruit, paper napkin and utensils, and a mug of black coffee.

  “Thank you, Zar. That’s beautiful.”

  “You slept,” he told me happily—like the baby’s first full night without crying.

  “I did. Thanks to you. You must have been careful.”

  He noticed his brother cowering under the desk and gave him a funny look, then ignored this and sat down on the edge of my bed with my plate while I sipped the coffee.

  “Did they have bananas?” I asked as I set the mug aside and accepted the plate.

  “Yes, do you want one?”

  “Would you grab us a couple to bring along? I still have peanut butter. They’re probably shutting breakfast down.”

  “Be right back.” He happily trotted out.

  Don’t rush.

  “Jed?”

  He’d lain down flat, chin resting to the side of his paws, not looking at me.

  “I was trying to illustrate a point to help us understand each other. I never meant to hurt you. I’m sorry about the magic, and that I startled you.”

  I cut up some waffle, ate a few bites, and held one buttered, whole waffle out.

  “It’s a big breakfast for me and I don’t want to hurt Zar’s feelings by leaving it. Would you take this?”

  He didn’t look at me.

  “Jed? He’ll be back in a minute. Please?”

  Jed slunk from under the desk and paced slowly over, eyes averted. He took the waffle and swallowed it, very deliberate, then retreated to sit by the foot of the bed.

  “Thanks. Why don’t you change and get dressed? We have to get on the road. Are you okay?”

  He walked away, past the foot of the other bed, still moving deliberately with carefully wounded pride and dignity.

  Zar burst back in, having been in a hurry to return to me. He passed Jed without a glance and flung open the curtains at my request.

  I finished my breakfast, asking him how it had been, and was everyone up.

  Time to go. So much for building bridges with Jed instead of walls.

  Chapter 23

  I’m not one who likes a stop-and-go scenic route road trip. If we’re going, let’s get going. But we reached the Wind River Reservation early in the afternoon despite a very late departure, and it seemed prudent to take all day to cross it.

  Our first detour was a sidetrack to Boysen State Park. It was broad daylight and I hadn’t heard the western meadowlark that I was looking for. It was also illegal to own a wolf-dog in Wyoming. Not, however, in Colorado, which plates we had, or Montana, where we could say we were going.

  Still, not worth it as long as no one’s spider senses—mostly my own—were tingling. I don’t know how my moment in front of the window last night had revealed to me that was all I needed. Nor did I ask. I would know when we had to get serious about tracking again. My pack never questioned me
.

  After a pleasant walk along the lakeshore, during which Jason tried to catch bluegill fish with his bare hands, Andrew stole the car keys, and Zar told me how much this place was inspiring him for songs—as if we were on a private date and the others didn’t exist—we set out again.

  We took Missouri Valley Road west at a leisurely pace. It was a dead flat, dead straight two-lane highway and I pulled over a couple of times to let others pass and sometimes get out, or at least roll down the windows, listening for my bird.

  By the time we returned to US-26, also a two-lane highway, I felt a tingling sensation in the palms of my hands and soles of my feet.

  Every tiny village, every service station, everything that had so much as a public parking place, we stopped.

  I played a recording of the birdcall for them when my phone had service and we quickly fell into a pattern of Jed, Zar, and Jason walking around and listening each time we stopped—Jason and Zar deemed to have the best ears for music—while Andrew and Kage asked around about coyotes in the area. Isaac and I always tried for another phone signal since we hadn’t chosen camp spots and needed digital maps.

  The locals thought we were nuts coming in for a bottle of water or a slice of pie or to fill the tank, and ask if there were many coyotes in the area.

  “Sure, lady, you want one?” Laughing and lifting a hunting rifle from behind the counter.

  “Coyotes? Why you looking for ’em?” Squinting at me like I’d asked if they knew where we could catch the Black Death.

  “They killed Daisy’s cat a week ago. Right on the porch in front of her. She’ll tell you all you want to know about the critters.” Pointing out Daisy sitting with another old lady and a slice of pie in a window booth.

  But no one gave us any up and down looks, or knowing or questioning scrutiny. We were just crazy, foreign tourists passing through, hoping to see some wildlife like the city yokels we were.

  Anyway, there weren’t many people to ask. Not many places to stop. The Wind River Indian Reservation comprised some 2.2 million acres, about the same size as all of the South East regional counties of England put together, and held a population of well under 30,000. There was, however, plenty of space to stop and listen for birds.

  We crossed a landscape like the surface of the moon, climbed into foothills as distant mountains grew closer, passed rivers and reservoirs, and drove along a beautiful stretch of red buttes that fascinated the wolves.

  When these nearly reached the road, I stopped again and they tumbled out to sniff and climb, even Andrew and Isaac—the least “wolfish,” most humanized of the band—captivated by this wilderness.

  Watching them, for me, was as beautiful as the buttes were to them. Who stopped in their tracks these days simply to place their hand on a rock, to smell the earth, and to listen for a birdsong?

  I longed to take them to Arches, the Grand Canyon, the California Redwoods and the Florida Everglades. I wanted them to see Vermont in autumn and the Olympic Mountains in winter. I wanted them to be happy.

  But that wasn’t what this was about. This was about wanting them to be alive.

  I waited, watching the endlessly blue sky through sun glasses, sweating, but enjoying the dry, sharp feel of the heat, eating a banana and peanut butter while they explored and I listened for the meadowlark. Every few minutes a car passed.

  “Cassia?”

  I’d heard steps coming over, but thought it was Isaac so I jumped. “Jed?”

  “You said … if we needed someone tracking … you could say … a…”

  “A wolf-dog? I’m sorry, but I was thinking it would have to be Andrew if anyone changes where humans could see you. He’s not like timber wolves that people would know the look of around here. He’s a bit ambiguous. You’re not. Everything about you screams big, powerful, pure wolf. Someone would have to be seriously thick to believe you were a hybrid. Anyway, you wouldn’t have enough space to be comfortable riding in the van like that.”

  I chewed and swallowed another bite while Jed squinted off down the highway—now US-287 as we headed north.

  “I’ll tell you something, though. I have a funny feeling out here. It started last night. I think … it’s hard to explain. I think magic is energy and energy must find expression. My own magic is responding to my blocking scrying and asking for other help by activating a sort of sixth-sense. When we find the meadowlark, or I know we’re in the right place, I do want you to change. This doesn’t look like the place I saw in my original scry of the shamans. Colorado did. Now … I think perhaps the Tetons area. You know? Grand Tetons National Park?” I glanced sideways at him.

  Jed nodded, still not looking at me.

  “How long have you wanted to come to this part of the world?”

  He didn’t answer at first. Then, under his breath, “Forever. Since I was a pup. I wanted to…” He bit his lip and didn’t say anything else.

  “To see a total wolf? Sing with one?”

  Again, it took him a while to answer.

  I heard others making their ways back, voices and steps drawing closer, but didn’t prompt him.

  After a minute, “I’ve never … run without anything in the way. You can run on the beach at night, if the tide’s far out past the groynes. But it’s shell and saltwater. Not even smooth sand. It’s horrible to run on for the most part, and not allowed. Until we got into the mountains I’d never run and run for as long as I wanted … ever in my life. There’s a fence, a hedge, road, wall, house, shopping square. I’ve never sung all I wanted to. Everything about all of this is a first. We have a sort of library at home. I used to take out books on Canada and total wolves and … places like this. I used to think I would come one day.”

  “Used to? What happened?”

  When he hesitated again, it was too late. Andrew and Zar were crossing the road to us.

  Jed climbed in his seat behind me without another word.

  “Inspired?” I smiled at Zar and finished my banana.

  “It’s—” Zar turned.

  The rest of us were also attracted by the shouting.

  It took a couple minutes and a quick jog along the butte to discover Kage had turned up a sun-bathing prairie rattlesnake. This “brilliant” specimen was curled into an upright bunch, rattling blood-chillingly at him while Kage, Jason, and Isaac admired it.

  Jed also ran up for a close look.

  I stopped and crossed my arms. “Do any of you know how far we are from the nearest hospital?”

  “How far?” Jason glanced at me.

  “I haven’t the faintest idea. Nor do I have any idea if my phone will work to call an airlift.”

  “Could just change if we’re bit. We’re right enough,” Kage said. But the rest backed away.

  “Sure.” I turned back for the van. “That worked perfectly for the vampire venom.”

  “How about a picture?” Kage got Isaac to commemorate the precious thing before leaving the snake in peace and us getting back on the road.

  They’d been rotating seats all day, only Jed unmoving in his spot behind me, growling at others even for passing through his space.

  Now Andrew was first back and bounced into the passenger seat, where he dipped a PayDay into the peanut butter. I rested the jar from him with enough left for one more breakfast for myself, making a promise of a snack for all before we hit the trail again tonight.

  “What’s your favorite pie?” I asked to the pack at large as they scrambled in.

  “You’ll have to give multiple choices, darling. We don’t even know what this barking country has to offer.”

  “Well, I know you don’t fancy Key lime or lemon meringue. And no chocolate or grasshopper—no, it’s mint and chocolate. It’s not actually grasshoppers, Kage. Apple, custard, pecan, cherry, banana cream, various kinds of berry pies. There are so many, even if you rule out the best.”

  “The best?” Jason asked.

  “Key lime and lemon, of course.”

  “Pecan,” Kage said
, slamming the door behind them.

  “Cherry,” Jason said.

  “Apple with ice cream,” Zar said.

  “Are the banana cream pies caramel?” Andrew asked.

  “You’re thinking of banoffee pie. But isn’t that English? Not sure you’ll find it out here. And I wish you would stop devouring those bars. That is so, so bad for you. It’s nauseating just watching you.”

  “You masochist. Why don’t you stop watching?” Andrew rolled his eyes and bit off another chunk.

  The subject of pie carried us for many miles. Jed would not admit to taking an interest in anything around his packmates, but Isaac also expressed fondness for apple and any berry pie.

  This brought us to Dubois, Wyoming. Home of an outstanding campground with space for tents and RVs, many cabins, a pool, showers, the works, along with The National Bighorn Sheep Center—making me feel guilty for some reason—and the Cowboy Cafe, home of apparently famous pies. All while that tingling in my palms grew stronger and stronger.

  We got dinner—a “snack” to keep things in perspective for them—at the cabin-style Cowboy Cafe. Everyone had a burger or steak—Jason was able to get fish and chips—then two whole pies—a caramel apple crisp and a pecan—with vanilla ice cream. Better than the fish, the place had real dinner salads, which I got, followed by pie with the rest.

  They were getting good about this eating around mundanes thing. I wasn’t strict, but encouraged the manners at the end of the meal by asking for a couple boxes of mozzarella sticks for the road, then telling my happy pack how much I appreciated the good work they’d been doing with mundanes on this trip—from airports to dinner.

  With the sun still well up, not at all sure we should have stopped so early, we staked out our camp spot, gulped our mozzarella sticks, and walked around the huge campsite to get our bearings and ask other campers if they’d seen coyotes in the area.