Beneath a Blood Moon (59 page)

I cringed, tucked my tail, and shuffled to the shore to gather wood as directed. Dragging planks up to the station in an endless stream, I was careful to avoid making eye contact with my infuriated Alpha female. Her eyes blazed yellow, and my wolf warned me her wolf was in control. My wolf wasn’t as worried about it as I was.

So long as Wendy remained in human form, my wolf did not care who was in control. I, however, fretted.

Wendy’s wolf enjoyed breaking things, and I didn’t want to be added to her growing list of smashed items. I hauled wood until I couldn’t take another step, flopping on the beach to catch my breath. A shark washed up on the shore nearby, swishing its tail at the surf. I stretched out a paw and batted the water. It showed me its teeth, twisted around, and returned to the ocean.

Wise wolves and women feared large sharks, but when the great white surged up on the beach, dragging a tuna with it, I rose to my paws, play bowed, and warbled to it. It twisted around, lashing its tail so hard water sprayed in my face. It left the tuna, which was still alive although dying. Grabbing it by the tail, I dragged it up the beach. It took full body jerks to move the large fish. It died before I made it up to the plateau, panting from my effort of dragging our dinner.

Wendy narrowed her eyes as I hauled the fish to her, dropped it at her feet, and collapsed in an exhausted heap. “The sharks are still around.”

I turned an ear back, stretched out my paws, and groaned.

Drawing a deep breath, Wendy let it out in a long exhale. “Okay. My daughter likes to say all problems can be solved with a clever application of fire. Let’s find out if she’s right. Fortunately, I found matches. They left the dumbest assortment of shit in this station.”

Included in Wendy’s collection were a knife and a sharpening stone, which kept my Alpha female occupied for an hour as she removed rust from the blade. By the time she was finished, I worried what would happen if she snapped and used the weapon on me. Carving the tuna with more enthusiasm than I liked, she set aside enough for herself before gesturing to me with her blade. I took the fish a safe distance from Wendy and settled to eat, keeping a close eye on my Alpha female.

I suspected the only reason she didn’t burn the ranger station down was so she would have somewhere she could take shelter to avoid the incessant wind sweeping over the plateau. The sun was setting when she finished gathering dried seagrass, clumped it around the base of her pile of wood and other flammables, and burned it.

As I had while at sea, I took the leftovers of the tuna to the water. Instead of dragging the corpse into the surf, I tore off scraps and tossed them to the waiting sharks until I bored of watching the smaller ones jump to catch my offerings. I left the rest of the carcass within their reach and trotted back up to the ranger station.

Wendy poked at her bonfire with a stick, growling with each breath. “If I had been smart, I would have done this in the morning. You know, when someone might see the smoke.”

When I saw no sign of the knife she had spent so much time sharpening, I flopped beside her, stretching my paws across her lap. Resting my muzzle on her knee, I yawned, closed my eyes, and basked in the warmth of the fire.

The following day, Wendy’s foul mood soured further. With a maniacal grin, she set the ranger station on fire. I considered myself fortunate she did not do so while I was in the doomed structure. My wolf retreated, leaving me to deal with our Alpha female’s erratic behavior. I sighed and watched the flames, wondering what to do.

If there was anyone nearby, they’d find us. The station put off an oppressive amount of smoke, which stretched to the cloudless sky in a dark pillar. I tugged on Wendy’s worn jeans to catch her attention.

Sinking to the ground beside me, she wrapped her arms around my neck, and as she had on the boat, she cried, her thin frame shaking. I sat quietly, turning my ears back at my inability to do anything for her. If she was anything like me, she wanted Desmond.

I wanted Sanders. I wanted him to tell me everything would be all right even though I knew it wasn’t the truth. When Wendy cried herself to sleep, I pulled free of her arms and returned to the beach.

Dustin’s sharks were either far smarter than I gave them credit for or they were really bored. Instead of fish, I found salvage from the boat piled in the surf. Soaked clothes, once property of the Fenerec we had killed, littered the sand along with pots, several large knives, and coils of rope. The sails were tattered and shredded, but I took pieces I thought were large enough to be useful. More wood washed up, and I busied myself ferrying everything up onto the plateau while Wendy slept. With the ruined scraps of sail unfit for anything else, I made a nest for myself.

By the time Wendy woke up, I had piled wood into a stack near the stream, offering a buffer against the wind. The larger pieces of the sails I left beneath several pieces of wood to keep the thick fabric from flying away.

Instead of tuna, the smaller sharks tossed smaller fish onto the beach for me, which I dutifully carried up to Wendy. She regarded the collection with a scowl. “More fish.”

I took it as a hint to see if the island offered any real meat. Heaving a sigh, I loped off.

While the island was large, the only thing I found of interest was mice, and I hunted them down with enthusiasm. Unlike fish, which Wendy wouldn’t let me swallow whole, my wolf enjoyed crunching on the mice. We didn’t catch enough to feel full, but by the time I returned, I had relaxed enough to ignore my Alpha female’s growls and fidgeting.

“I guess we wait or we swim and hope to find another island—one with people on it—or shore,” she muttered, settling in beside me. She offered me one of the fish, which I rejected with a turn of my head. “You have to eat, too.”

Without a real way to communicate with her, I sighed and took the fish. Under her watchful eye, I picked its bones clean instead of swallowing it whole like I wanted.

The days passed, and with each one that slipped by, Wendy’s mood deteriorated. She stared to the east, her attention fixated on something I couldn’t sense or see. While I had, for a time, felt my mate as a warmth within, my sense of him had faded to the thin awareness he lived, somewhere far out of my reach.

When the full moon rose, I ghosted at Wendy’s heels, encouraging her wolf to take over her body without shifting forms. Wendy’s wolf liked me, which was why I lived, and I knew it. My wolf and hers talked, and with sickening fear, I realized she no longer needed me.

Wendy’s wolf reigned, and she had no intentions of shifting. With a puppy to defend and let grow, she would wait. When I whined at her wolf’s desire for solitude, she turned on me. As Sanders had in the wild, she rebuked me, although she used her fists and feet instead of her teeth. I cringed, protected my belly, and endured.

I remained, keeping a careful watch, but as I had guessed, she didn’t need me at all.

When the full moon set, I retreated to the far side of the island, watching Wendy from a distance, too afraid to approach.

The yellow never left Wendy’s eyes, and I wondered how much woman remained in her human body. My worry grew, but I lacked the courage to stand up to her. Each day, I returned to the beach, kept company with the sharks, and dragged their offerings up to the plateau to leave for my Alpha female when she wasn’t paying attention or chose to ignore my approach.

I lived on mice and the occasional bird unfortunate enough to cross my path. Hunting lacked the satisfaction it had with Sanders at my side. When the the dark moon rose, Wendy ventured to the east-facing beach on her own, and as I watched from the plateau, she slipped into the waters and swam away.

Dorsal fins surrounded her, and without a single look back, she left me behind. When she went, all of the sharks went with her.

I howled my loneliness, and as expected, there was no reply.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

I denned beneath the charred ruins of the station. The blackened debris hid the hole I dug, and when it was large enough for me to curl up within, I spent my days sleeping and my nights hunting. With each sunrise and sunset, my wolf took more and more control over me until I watched the world go by through her eyes.

Like Wendy, she longed for something in the east, but she didn’t trust the sharks in the water, so we remained on our island.

When the mice grew scarce, we spent most of our time asleep.

Sometime before the full moon rose, a stirring in the pack bonds woke me, and the howling of a wolf filled my head. It was a joyful, welcoming call. It wasn’t for me, so while my wolf and I were puzzled, we otherwise disregarded our pack.

Humans invaded my territory three days after the full moon set, and my wolf feared them. We hid in our den, staying still and silent to avoid detection. For the first time since taking over, she prodded and poked me to full consciousness.

Voices drew near. Without me, she couldn’t understand them. I didn’t recognize them, and in my grogginess, I didn’t understand what was going on or why she cared about the humans. In the time I had slept and she had ruled, I had grown thin with mats tangling my fur. The only plump part of me was my belly, which my wolf regarded with resigned grief.

Someone crouched outside my den. My nose informed me he was a male. There was something not-quite human about his scent, although I found no hint of the cinnamon spice of my own kind. When all I did was stare at him, he rose, turned, and called, “Found her.”

I was too tired and hungry to protest when a Fenerec male reached into my hole, grabbed me by the scruff, and pulled me out.

“That was a hell of a lot easier than I thought it would be,” he confessed, tightening his grip on the back of my neck. I sniffed to catch their scents, and the howls in my head strengthened. There was no malice in their scent, and my wolf found their concern and anxiety promising.

We were too worn and hungry to fight them. While my wolf wanted to at least give them some reason to fear us, I considered it a waste of effort. I doubted I could stand without falling over, let alone sink my teeth into anything or anyone.

“That might have something to do with the fact this island is a terrible place for a Fenerec. She’s all bones,” someone—another male—replied. “Think you can carry her without hurting her?”

“I’ll take her,” a voice I recognized said, his tone far gentler than normal. Perking my ears, I sniffed to catch his scent.

“I think she recognizes you, sir,” the male holding me stated.

“Just because you can’t recognize your own tail when you’re hungry does not mean everyone else is reduced to a mindless amoeba,” Dustin replied, his annoyance bleeding into his voice and his scent. “Fenerec are social critters, and without Stud Muffin around, she’s probably lonely on top of starving.”

I sighed when Dustin took me, and while his hold put uncomfortable pressure on my stomach, I didn’t complain. Resting my head against his arm, I closed my eyes.