Run with the Moon (3 page)

The moonlight caressed him like a physical touch. There was a special bond between shifters and the moon goddess, one that grew strong the fuller the moon became. When it reached the pinnacle of power, there was no refusing the instinctual call to shift. Not for most of the pack members. Only a shaman had the strength to resist, though why they’d ever want to was beyond Valen’s comprehension.

As he ran along the path he’d taken originally, Valen had a moment of clarity. He understood what that internal lightening had been. His fear had left him, and his innate beast was truly coming into its own.

He reveled in the freedom he suddenly felt. Maybe Rivvie had been right—not that Valen would
ever
tell him so—and things wouldn’t be so bad.

Then again, had he not been forced out, he wouldn’t have had someone steal his few personal belongings.

I wouldn’t have seen the horses, either, or the humans.
One particular man appeared in his mind’s eye. Heat curled low in Valen’s groin.

Valen stumbled over his own feet. The bottom of his muzzle smacked against the ground and he bit his tongue. Sprawled in the most undignified way possible, legs askew, belly in the dirt, Valen didn’t even care about his appearance. He was too busy being stunned by the realization that he lusted after the blond human. It was crazy to do so, but his body was tingling all over with arousal. The urge to mate forced his shaft from its sheaf. Valen grunted in discomfort and flopped onto his back, panting as he stared sightlessly toward the sky.

Shifters mated with shifters, exclusively. Humans were violent and dangerous, and they weren’t open-minded. That was why shifters used to stay hidden from them. Still did, as far as Valen knew, although rumor had it that humans had known of their existence for decades. At some point after the End Times, when there were more of Valen’s kind, shifters hadn’t felt the need to hide so thoroughly.

Just because shifters outnumbered them even now didn’t mean that humans weren’t dangerous. For that matter, the numbers could have changed. Shifters could once again be in the minority. How would they know if they weren’t?

How did we ever know anything about the society outside our own?
The question taunted him and Valen had no answer to it. Record keeping and history weren’t what they should have been for his people—perhaps not surprising, considering that their beasts weren’t concerned with such things.

Instincts ruled, and probably only the shamans knew much about the past.

Valen’s wonderings had given him time to cool his ardor. He hopped to his feet and shook hard enough to set his fur on end. It was stupid to waste time lolling about and letting his thoughts drift. Almost as stupid as it was to lust after a human.

Telling himself he wasn’t going to be so weak again, Valen trotted after the thieves who’d stolen his belongings. He resolutely refused to acknowledge the burgeoning arousal trying to thrum through his veins.

When he reached the spot where he’d last seen the men and animals, they were gone. Valen wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t thought they’d sit there and wait for him. After sniffing around to make sure he had a fresh impression of the scents, he started to lope after them.

“Yip-arooooo!”

Valen groaned and skidded to a stop again. He spun around and tried to process what he was seeing and hearing. It had to be a hallucination.
Gods, please tell me it’s just me being delusional, that I hit my head when I fell and I’m still lying on the ground—

But of course he couldn’t get that lucky. Valen shifted and waited for Rivvie to reach him. Once he did, Rivvie morphed into his human form and gave him a saucy wink.

“Hiya, bro. Glad to see me?”

Valen might have been, somewhere way down in his heart, if he’d bothered to dig that deep. “What the hells, Rivvie? You aren’t supposed to leave pack property or—”

“Or I can be cast out.” Rivvie huffed and flapped a hand at Valen. “I am aware. I delivered your message to our father, and after a short chat with him…” Rivvie smiled merrily. “Well, guess what? We decided you had your first pack member. Congratulations!”

“What?” Valen took a step back. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a— You aren’t—”

Rivvie came forward to take up the space Valen had put between them. He didn’t quite move with the enthusiasm he normally displayed. “Yes I am. I
know
an alpha picks his own pack members, supposedly. Don’t you think they really just grab any and all available wolves they can find? Beggars can’t be choosers, Mom always says. Besides, I already had to disavow my loyalty to Father, so you’re stuck with me.” Rivvie waggled his eyebrows. “And who has your back like family? No one. Plus I can tell future pack members embarrassing stories about you to keep you from getting a big ego.”

“Rivvie,” Valen growled, grinding his back teeth together so hard that his jaw popped. Close observance of his brother had Valen biting back any more words of protest. Rivvie was smiling and chattering as he often did, yet it seemed forced to Valen, though he couldn’t pinpoint just what it was that was so off.

Rivvie winked at him and patted Valen’s shoulder. “I know, I’m awesome. You’re welcome. Now, why aren’t we stalking the prey? I love hunting and stalking! I’m almost better at it than you, and it’s fun. It’s just that Father always takes the lead and makes me drop back behind him and you and Elias.” He widened his eyes. “Uh. We aren’t eating the humans or horses, not for real, right?”

It was tempting to lie and say that munching on the others was exactly what Valen had in mind, just to see Rivvie flip out. Though, if he did, then he’d have to deal with Rivvie’s excessive and melodramatic reaction, so Valen didn’t bother teasing.

“No, I just want my bag back.”
And to maybe see the blond man again, sniff him and lick him once.
Valen was shocked by the twisted longings for someone he didn’t know and who was a thief as well as not of his kind.

But we
are
both men,
his libido reasoned.
We have the same parts when I’m not in furry form, the same needs. Humans aren’t wild or feral. They just…aren’t us.

“Valen?” Rivvie queried without his usual exuberance. He was as loud as usual, but a worried expression sat oddly on his features.

“I’m fine. Just trying to take it all in. My first pack member, huh?” He shook his head while Rivvie bobbed his, the happiness shining right back on his face as it almost always did. “You know I didn’t even have time to miss you yet?”

Rivvie blew him a raspberry. “You missed me before you even left and you know it. Can I be your beta? Huh? Please?”

“Not if you’re going to be telling all those embarrassing stories you said you would—” Valen’s attention was snagged by a bare wisp of sound zipping through the air.

“Down!” He dove onto Rivvie, knocking him to the ground. Valen shoved Rivvie into the shrubs first, the instinct to protect undeniable.

“Thorns,” Rivvie hissed at the same moment that Valen felt the sharp little prongs tearing into his skin.

Rivvie shifted. Valen didn’t.

He avoided a second projectile, and when it landed beside him, saw that it was a rock that had been lobbed at him. From the sound of it as it was airborne, he’d have to guess a slingshot or something similar was being used.

Even such a rudimentary tool was nothing to laugh about. One good hit to the head and he was done.

Valen sprang to his feet and made a mad dash in the direction from which he was being fired at. He zigged and zagged, making himself a difficult target. As he inhaled, the rich, musky scent of the blond man filled him, and Valen’s arousal slammed into him full-force.

It was almost as deadly as a blow to the head as far as he was concerned.

* * * *

Staying behind had probably been foolish. Aaron Olsen knew that the others would follow them. He’d screwed up in taking the leather bag, though he could claim he’d believed it to be abandoned, not temporarily set aside. Bad things could and did happen in the wild. It was why people didn’t leave their villages if they could help it.

Werewolves. Gods! I didn’t believe…
The old stories were just that, he’d thought up until the second he found himself staring at a large, snarling wolf. It had been too big to be a natural one, and a deep intelligence in its glowing yellow eyes. Any doubts Aaron had had about the truth of the old stories had vanished in an instant. He’d been frozen with fear and fascination, unable to immediately flee.

It was just his curiosity about the beasts that had caused a weird tingle in his gut. Aaron had volunteered to stay behind and stall, if not kill, the shifters to keep his people safe. In retrospect, he should have simply left the bag and the contents of it behind. If the shifters were reasonable beings, surely that would have ended this issue.

Perhaps it wasn’t the shifters that lacked reasoning. Aaron couldn’t deny the damage humans had done to their world. They were lucky to have survived after the wars and diseases had finally stopped ravaging humanity.

And here he was, crouched on a tree limb, using a slingshot to try to stun the two men he knew were shifters. He’d seen them appear in their animal forms, then change into men.

Both were powerfully built. One was bordering on being too pretty, even with his tall height and masculine build.

The other one was darker, broodier, and appealing on levels Aaron didn’t want to acknowledge. He had a duty to his species. There was no place in the world for the kind of thoughts that kept him awake late into the night.

Aaron loaded another rock from his pouch. He aimed carefully as the dark wolf zigged and zagged his way forward. “Valen,” Aaron murmured, having heard the werewolf’s name when the other guy had practically shouted it. He realized his mistake instantly. Thinking of the beast as anything less than a deadly predator wasn’t very smart of him. His hand trembled as he pulled back the sling. It was much harder to try to harm someone when he knew their name and when he’d been the one to cause this trouble.

All Aaron had had to do was ride away, but he’d seen the leather satchel. As scarce as weapons and food could be, he’d had to take it and check for anything usable for his people.

No, he could have left it. It would have been the honorable thing to do. Barring that, observing the area to see if the owner returned for the bag would have been an acceptable alternative.

Aaron had rushed in without thinking, which was a good way to get killed.

He steeled his nerves and let the rock fly into the air. It wouldn’t hit Valen. Aaron wasn’t fast enough to harm the wolf. No storytelling could have prepared him for the speed of a shifter in beast form, or the size of it. Add in intelligence that was a blend of human and deadly predator? Aaron was merely stalling his own demise.

He should have ridden out with everyone else.

The second werewolf came out from the thorny brush, arcing around to the left. They were going to pen him in. It wouldn’t be difficult. Aaron was up in a tree, and if he simply dropped to the ground and ran, he’d be caught in no time. He truly hadn’t thought out his retreat.

No wonder his parents hadn’t let him leave the village before this. He was an idiot when it came to combat and survival skills.

He fired off another rock then realized he had lost sight of Valen. An ominous feeling came over him and goosebumps prickled his skin. Rivvie was still to the left, though he was much closer now, and Aaron forced himself to do the one thing that he was suddenly very afraid to do.

He looked down. “Shit!” Aaron’s heartbeat tripled and he actually had a split-second of dizziness from it, or the fear tearing at his innards.

Valen leaped, his long claws digging easily into the tree bark. His fangs were bared, and anger snapped in his yellow eyes.

Aaron tried to scamper farther down the limb only to give up on that plan since the branch was too thin and weak to hold his weight very far from the trunk. Panicking, he dropped his slingshot and, shortly thereafter, lost his grip. Aaron closed his eyes.

Gods and demons, he was dead meat.

And he only had himself to blame. It seemed odd that in the moment his body slammed onto the ground, Aaron only felt relief. He wasn’t going to live to disappoint either himself or his family. In a few seconds, all the truly awful fears he’d lived with for so long would cease to matter. He could only find comfort in that. Aaron closed his eyes and hoped that dying didn’t hurt too much.

He heard the
thud
of Valen leaping from the tree, maybe even felt the ground quake a little, it was hard to tell when he was shaking like his bones were trying to break out and make a run for it. While he wasn’t afraid exactly, his body was trying to kick into flight mode.

His mind told it to knock that crap off and let his troubles end.

Strange sounds reached him. Aaron didn’t dare to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see death coming for him.

“Open your eyes.”

The roughly spoken command had to have come from Valen. Aaron had heard him speak before and it sounded like him.

“Rivvie, back off. Find my bag, and if you can’t, find the trail of the person who has it.”

Aaron wanted to look, to see what expression was on Valen’s face. Was he as handsome as Aaron had thought? With dark hair and masculine features, Valen had seemed very appealing from a distance—at least physically.

“I said—”

A sudden weight settled on Aaron’s stomach. He snapped his eyes open at the same moment that Valen grabbed his wrists.

Valen pinned them to the ground above Aaron’s head.

Aaron had the strangest reaction to that, his groin warming with arousal as his penis began to grow erect. It was every nightmare he had about being discovered. Panic chased the blood in his veins as he stared into still-glowing yellow eyes.

In the darkness, he couldn’t make out Valen’s features so well now. When the moonlight had been on Valen earlier, Aaron had seen shadowed, handsome features. Now, with the moon behind Valen, very little showed in his face except for those bright orbs and long white fangs.