Moon Chilled (5 page)

His rough, calloused fingers landed on the back of my neck, just below the line of my short hair, and my breath caught in that moment between life and what could certainly be a quick death, if that was what my alpha wanted from me. His fingers tightened on the fine hairs at my nape, and I closed my eyes, squinting against the fear, the pain, and everything I imagined death to be. I only wished that my son wasn't in the same room to see his mother die. No child should ever have to see such a thing, and I wondered who would raise him in my absence. But in the silence of the room, where the only one daring to breathe was myself, I knew the answer well enough—his father. I didn't want to die, but I knew that I had welcomed death's sweet release at times, many of them spent in my alpha's bed. I hadn’t thought about death so much since Gavin's birth, but I remembered those dark moments clearly, and the scars on my arms bore witness to what I'd been thinking at those times.

"You'll tell me this dream, seer," he told me, no trace of comfort in his words or tone. Someone put Gavin down on the floor near me, and tears filled my eyes as I met his wide, frightened gaze. I didn't want to tell him, but I wouldn't look in my son's eyes and wish for death either. And so I complied, giving into my alpha's commands and the momentary peace that came from obeying him.

"The pack was dead," I whispered, closing my eyes to remember the details though I wished I hadn't. He would want to know them though. He always did. "There was fire and death. Screams all around me. And so much blood. There was pain too. I don't think I was hurt, but others were."

There were whispers and frightened murmurs. I closed my eyes against them. There would be more questions for me, there always were, but that was enough for now.

Chapter Four

Shae

It was nearly sunset when the farmer came into the barn to find me. The wind had picked up along with the storm, coating everything outside in another thick layer of the icy stuff. The horses had started coming in, though their loud snorts told me that they wished they could go to bed without me there. I didn't blame them. The few times that I did venture into town left me feeling drained and like I'd been a fake for far too long. I'd had enough years hiding who I was and what I felt when I'd been a child. I didn't need to do that as an adult too. That was supposed to be one of the perks of growing up and getting older. I knew getting older was a form of freedom, and I relished that realization every day that I had my own mind to follow my own choices. I had consequences and sometimes what I wanted to happen simply didn't. But it was up to me, not some all-powerful man that used that shield of a title to protect himself and entitle himself to what he thought he deserved.

When the farmer joined me, I was putting up the last of the boards for the night and hadn't heard him come up behind me. Being so deep in my wayward thoughts was never a good sign and was not the safest place to be in by any means. My wolf alerted me to my own foolishness at not being more aware of what was around me, and I repeated my mantra in my head that I used whenever I was surprised by someone. 'Act human' may sound silly to someone else, someone not born of the forest and the moon, but it helped relax me. I repeated it until I knew that I had my reaction to being startled under control, until I felt safe again, and then I turned around to face him. If he'd announced his presence, I hadn't heard him, and my wolf did not like being snuck up on. I offered him a smile as if he hadn't just caused my wolf to dart forward and attempt to wrestle control of my body from me in the name of protection.

"Hey. I didn't hear you come in," I said warmly. I put down the hammer where I'd found it and forced the lid back on the coffee can of nails before pushing it away as well. I'd done a good job, I knew that. A werewolf's enhanced sight and my own attention to detail made for a pretty decent-looking barn interior.

There weren't too many women, not to mention men, who could work for as long or as hard as I did. I didn't tire like humans did, didn't get hungry or bored. But I'd had plenty of gigs like this and knew there were all kinds of people. I dreaded this part, because I knew that I'd have to accept whatever he'd want to give me for my work, even if it was lower than the discount I'd already given him when I'd come to him earlier that day.

"It's a little better," he said, his voice sounding flat and giving nothing away.

I looked around at my work, wondering how he could say such a thing. It was much improved with a good bit of the work done. But I didn't argue, only nodded and prepared to take the cash that I would be given. My wolf protested the whole ordeal. Though she didn't quite understand what had happened, she knew the value of what we had done and didn't like the feeling of apprehension in my belly. There was more work to do, not much, but we'd get by before it was time to turn in the rent at the end of the month.

"Here, thanks for stopping by." He held out a bit of money, all twenties.

I took it, easily counting it in only a second or two, and looked up at him. It was more than I'd asked for, even a little more than the amount offered on his flyer. My confusion must have been apparent on my face, because he stuffed his hands into his big flannel coat and looked almost apologetic as he said, "Sorry it's not more. You did good. But times ... they're tough, and I've got to feed my family and the livestock and ..."

I pocketed the cash. "Thanks," I said, silencing him and any further apology he wanted to give me. I didn't need it. He'd given me more than I'd expected, and I would gladly take it and give it to my landlord. Maybe he'd even let me come back and do some more work for him another time.

One of the horses loudly neighed and put his ears back. I turned fully toward him, not liking his attitude. He was trying to tell me to get out of his area. Normally I would have gladly done just that, but I was tired and my wolf was able to come closer to the surface than I would have normally let her while this close to a human. I felt my lips pull back from my teeth as if I had no control of the movement. And I likely didn't. She could be a persistent wolf when she wanted something done. I guessed I should have been glad that I was still in my skin instead of walking around on her four paws at that moment.

Although I was exhausted and really looking forward to my little bed in the cramped cottage, I fought back. It took more than I was used to giving for her to listen to me, but eventually I was back in control of my face. The human was oblivious as he went up and patted the horse on his neck.

"I wonder what spooked him, normally he's a lot calmer than this," the farmer said.

I shrugged because I thought that was what I was supposed to do as a human. I wasn't sure if it was right, but I knew that bolting out of the barn now that I had what I needed from him wouldn't have been. People would consider that rude. My wolf thought there was no further reason to hang around.

"Do you like horses?" the farmer asked me. He came away from the horse that was still watching me cautiously as if I were likely to shift and feast on him. I wanted to tell him that he had nothing to fear, at least not from me, but while I did speak wolf, and that extended a bit to dog, I had no idea how to tell him that I wasn't a threat to him. Body language could work, but I knew he likely saw me as a predator, just as I saw him through my wolf's eyes as something to eat. Something fast and big, but trapped and easily brought down in a pen full of snow and ice. The chances of my wolf getting hurt taking him down were slim, and she knew this. I could practically feel her salivating in my mind.

"They don't much like me," I told him, remembering that he'd asked me a question. I stepped back, knowing that was likely the only thing that would get the horse to calm down long enough to go to sleep later.
I'm not a threat to you
, I wanted to tell him.
I don't see you as prey
.

"Are you hungry?" he asked me, changing the subject rather abruptly, but then again the reason why his horses were so afraid of me wasn't a very good topic of discussion either. Not when my wolf was itching to get away from this place and back to our little stretch of the forest that she considered our territory.

And though I was hungry and reasonably sure that he was well-meaning with his question, I'd been around people too much already today for me to continue to be safe around them. "No, thanks," I muttered. But my words came out uncertainly, as if I didn't really know. At least my stomach hadn't started growling. Yet. Maybe we'd get lucky and find a nice fat winter squirrel to have for dinner on the way back home.

I took another step back, putting more distance between the man and myself. I was ready to go, and I felt my wolf coming awake inside of me, her restless spirit too long dormant and ready to run and play.
Soon
, I told her.
Very soon
. She was placated, for the moment, by my promise. But it wouldn't last her long. She was itching to get out of my skin, and it was time to let her free.

"Bye," I said, because it was expected of a human, and even raised my hand to wave at him like he'd waved at me when he'd seen me on his property for the first time hours earlier.

He frowned, looking indecisive as he stared at me. I kept retreating until I was out of the barn and felt the moonlight, my mother, on my face. Subconsciously I turned toward it, and didn't realize that I'd closed my eyes until they were snapping open as the man came closer to me. I tilted my head, considering him somewhere between woman and wolf.

"Do you have a car?" He looked over my shoulder. I shook my head. "Want a ride?"

I moved my head again to tell him that, no, I wasn't interested. I felt my teeth lengthening, and my wolf pushed her way forward, growing impatient. Too long around humans and easy, penned in prey, had made her need to come out of the shell that was my body too forcefully for me to tell her no for much longer. I couldn't let him see me for what I was, what we were, and so I turned as quickly as I could manage while she fought me for control of my limbs and hurried up the hill I'd come down earlier. The forest would swallow me up as soon as I was deep enough in it. If it were summertime I wouldn't have had to go nearly as far in, but in the winter the trees were scarce and I needed the cover.

"It's negative three!" he called after me as I started running.

I didn't respond. My throat was no longer my own, but I was laughing inside of my mind. Funny; I'd thought it was colder than that. I shed my clothing as soon as I was in the forest, and by the time I was a mile beyond the man's farm, I lay naked in the snow, far more wolf than woman, despite the body that was currently on full view for every woodland creature around us.

My shift was fast, but it was hardly painless. I'd worked for a decade to make myself quick to shift. I knew the benefits of being my wolf, and she and I had long come to the same conclusion; being a wolf meant being safe. And so I'd worked as hard as I could, worked until my bones felt broken from too many shifts and I was somewhere beyond exhaustion as I lay crying on a floor after hours of moving between forms.

I tasted blood in my mouth and realized that I'd bitten my tongue during the shift. My clothing lay all around me and my wolf ignored the pieces of my human life as she trotted through the woods. I'd come back for them later. I had no control over her now, though I didn't feel betrayed by her taking over my body. We shared this soul and I welcomed her place in my life. I hadn't always, but I did now, understanding her importance. Like a shield of living body armor, she was what kept me protected, how I stayed alive. I owed her my strength and survival, and so I welcomed her place in my world.

As my wolf we ran, taking flight over freshly fallen snow and over downed and rotting logs. She was beyond fast as she trailed after prey only she could smell. With no control of our body, I was left in the background, only able to see through her eyes and distantly feel the wind on my face as if through a memory or dream. I didn't mind; this was my chance to rest, to let her have a moment to herself. She would never put us in danger, although I hadn't always had such faith in her. But at this point I knew who my wolf was and what she was capable of. And I didn't doubt her for a moment.

I listened to the sounds of the forest night as my wolf moved around. The snow crunched under her large paws. It hadn't let up during the day, and with the temperatures quickly dropping, her breath was fully visible in the moonlight as a puffed cloud formed between her lips. My wolf stopped, nearly halfway home, and tilted her head back. She didn't howl; we were too near town for that to be a good idea with how easily sound travelled in the valley between the mountains, but she looked up at the moon all the same.

The snow falling around us sucked me into a memory from my first winter in the mountains. My first time with snow. My first time with Maiki. Thinking about her wasn't necessarily painful, but it was an ache somewhere further down than just my heart, and I didn't like focusing on it for too long. But for once I let it come instead of fighting the memory and the pain that I knew would follow it. I allowed the memory to come and linger as it swirled around my mind like a white wisp of smoke. It finally settled, finding a place inside my mind and heart. I'd been ten at the time. Maiki had been younger, but not by much. I couldn't remember now, but I didn't think that Maiki was more than ten months younger than me. If that. But she had always been smaller than me, and that made her seem younger than she was. Of course, I could have been wrong about her age.

But it had been a snowy winter morning. I remembered the cold, the first bite of frost as I'd stepped out of the big farmhouse that had once been my home and later a source of remembered pain. My family had stayed there overnight, welcomed by the alpha in his home before we'd had a chance to look at the houses in town. He'd told my dad we could have our pick of them. I didn't live there long. He was dead before the little house had started to feel like home, and then my mother and I had been back in the farmhouse, continued guests of the alpha.