The Hunter's Moon (The Secret Warrior Series) (15 page)

Roan gave a low whistle. “Holding your own against Mateo for any length of time is impressive. That cat’s as lethal as he is swift.” He rubbed a smooth chin. “Have you been given a Shawnee name?”

She angled a questioning look at Jackson.

“
Mo’whewa The’tha
. Wolf Girl,” he added, for her benefit.

“I hadn’t realized it was official.”

“Fits you,” he said.

Approval in his gaze, Roan gave a nod. “Certainly does.”

He knew
. He saw what she was.

“I’ve never met a Morcant woman before,” he confided.

“You might not want to meet me tomorrow night.”

Onlookers watched as he voiced what they were likely thinking. “Best we meet first now. It will help you remember.”

“I hope so.” She wasn’t convinced.

The assembly stilled. If a comet had blazed across the sky trailing a fiery tail, they couldn’t have been more affected. Had she put everyone off? Been too frank? She didn’t think the Wapicoli would find her
that
intimidating.

Wait—it wasn’t her. She felt Okema’s presence before she realized who was beside her. An electric current stood the small hairs on the back of her neck on end and flushed over her arms. Steeling herself, she turned to meet his scrutiny.

He regarded her in his usual intent manner. “Have you heard the story of the two wolves?”

Taken aback by his query, as she was by most everything he said, she shook her head.

His silvery eyes never left hers. “Two wolves strive within each of us, one for good and the other for evil.”

“Which is strongest, Okema?”

“That depends upon which one you feed.”

“Wise words. But easier for someone who doesn’t have an actual wolf lurking inside them,” she muttered.

“Not so easy for any.” He waved a tanned hand at the people gathered around her. “All are counting on you.”

“Why me?”

“The power lies within you to save or to destroy. Choose rightly.”

Fear snaked cold fingers around her middle. “I shall. If I’m truly able to choose.”

“Center your thoughts, Wolf Girl. Or the ‘ice queen’ chooses for you.”

Morgan had never even told him that name. Was there anything he didn’t know about her?

Chapter Fourteen

Dancing in the Moonlight

The Wapicoli sure liked to party. High-spirited revelry continued beneath the starry sky well into the evening, with the smoky bonfire and scent of autumn filling the nippy air. Jimmy had dozed off with his head in his plate, and Jackson’s father, Peter, carried him to bed. Batboy would be mad in the morning when he realized all the fun he’d missed, and it was a good party.

After a surprisingly tasty meal, even the thunderbird turned out better than Morgan expected, she’d sat with Jackson on the front steps of the lodge. Music soared into the night. Arms flew as two fiddlers plied their bows, and several drummers beat away with their hands. Wooden flutes, probably hand-carved, added lilting notes to the lively music.

She tucked nearer Jackson’s warmth. “That has a distinctly country sound.”

The muted light shadowed his smile. “What were you expecting? A powwow with a lot of chanting and foot stomping?”

“Sure was. And those amazing outfits that jingle when you dance.”

“Not sure jingle is the word for it. As to the lack of NA oomph, we lead a lower key life here. Tough enough being werewolves and guardians of the forest, battling Panteras, weird creatures, and other enemy hostiles, without standing apart any more than we already do.”

“Ever been to a real powwow?” she asked.

“Like I’d go to a fake one? When Mom was still alive, she wanted to go, so we did.” He shrugged. “Not really my style.”

“No.” Morgan couldn’t imagine Jackson immersing himself in that kind of event. “I’m not sure what my style is.”

His grin was unmistakable. “Cool. Of course.”

“Totally.” She elbowed him in the side good-naturedly, then waved a hand at couples stepping in the yard to a country-western tune. “You don’t see that dance much in Virginia. Isn’t that the Texas Two Step?”

“Yep.” A born drummer, he tapped a rhythm on his chest. “Some of the men went out west to find wives. Brought this back with the women.”

She envisioned the olden days, and women taken captive. “Makes it sound like they carried them away.”

“Naw.” He grinned, pausing in the beat. “Warriors haven’t done that for two hundred years. But the guys picked up the dancing while they were out there. Their wives already knew.”

“I feel like I’m in a western bar. Only outside.” Some party goers were having an especially good time. She wished she could join in, but had never been the life of the party—the few she’d attended. “Are those pitchers full of beer?”

“Homebrewed,” he emphasized, drumming down his sides. “And no strong drink allowed. We steer clear of moonshine. One of Okema’s unbreakable rules.”

“I don’t drink anyway, so it makes no difference to me what’s imbibed.”

“No?” He clapped his hands under her chin. “Picture drunken werewolves, and you’ll see why it might make a difference to you and everyone else.”

She jerked to attention. “Oh. Right. Not a good image.”

“Nope.” His lowered his hands. “We’ve had warriors banished from the results of drunken bloodlust.”

“And bodies to bury?” She cringed at the thought.

“That too. Look.” He gestured at the almost completely round orb rising over the trees, casting its pearly light. “There she is, Sister Moon. Tomorrow night, most of these men will be off running in the woods.”

A tremor darted down Morgan’s spine. “Where will I be?”

Jackson threaded his fingers through hers and clasped them tightly. “With me.”

“And where is that?”

“Out there. My father and Uncle Buck will be close by, and Okema is keeping an eye on you. He has the ability to change or not, at will. The rest of us must turn at the full moon.”

“And me along with you. I hope having you and the others nearby will be enough to keep the ice queen in bounds. But I’m not sure. I suspect she’s a real bitch.”

“Not to worry. If
she
won’t respect me, or the other Wapicoli, Okema will assert himself. Alpha males demand obedience.”

“What about alpha females?”

“You aren’t an alpha yet. Your Aunt Maggie has dominance over you, until you challenge her and win.”

“That seems inevitable, and too weird for words. The whole thing is.”

“You’ll adjust, in time…” he trailed off.

That last bit didn’t instill confidence. “You won’t let me kill anyone?”

His grip on her hand tightened. “No. Promise. Except maybe Panteras. Now, how about a dance?”

“Are you freaking kidding me? I’ve never done the two-step. I’m not a great dancer, period. If Jimmy were awake, he’d say, ‘no duh.’”

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s just go move with the music.”

“Or fumble to the beat.”

Jackson chuckled. “That’s okay, too.”

Part of her feared making a fool of herself, while the other wanted nothing more than to be in his arms. “I don’t know.”

“I do and I’m making an executive decision.” He rose, pulling her up with him, and led her back into the gathering.

Freed of the barbecued bird, the bonfire was perfect for toasting marshmallows. Kids and adults knelt beside the orange glow holding out their sticks. Morgan accepted a burnt offering from Simeon as she and Jackson paused by the fire, enjoying the sweetness despite the charring.

“Delicious.
Megwich
.”

The child nodded happily. Jackson took an overcooked morsel from him, popped it into his mouth, and guided Morgan to the center of the yard with the other dancers. Hawthorne had a partner, and his parents, Buck and Willow, swayed, sashayed, and stepped in unison to the country melody, as did other couples.

“They’ve all done this before and know the steps. Not gonna happen with me,” she said to Jackson, loudly enough to be heard over the music.

“Sure it is.” He swung her around to face him.

“I thought you didn’t carry women off anymore?”

“I’m making an exception for you.” Smiling, he circled an arm around her upper back. “It’s quick, quick, slow, slow, or we can just go slow.”

“Probably better.” She closed her arm around him, her other hand still clasped in his.

He bent to whisper in her ear. “Follow my lead.”

A thrill rippled through her. The other dancers and onlookers fell away. There was only Jackson, the press of his strong body against hers, the pull of the moon, and a deeper draw to him. Music thrummed in her head and a pounding rhythm in her heart. Whether it was the bond between them and she instinctively followed his steps, or that she was a natural—not likely—she danced in harmony with him. No matter how the music altered, she remained in sync with his every move. Exhilarating. Sublime. If only they could go on and on like this.

Inevitably, the music died away. Trucks revved up. People were leaving, bundling sleepy children into the night, bidding each other
Tanakia
, meaning, ‘until our paths cross again.’

Jackson stayed where he was and held Morgan close. “Our first dance.”

She lifted her face to his. “Maybe our last, depending.”

His dark eyes caressed her. “Have a little faith.”

“You make me believe anything is possible, even surviving the coming change.”

“It is. No
buts
.”

Anticipating any lingering doubt, he silenced her with a tender kiss. Tingles shimmered to her toes under his intoxicating lips. An already divine night was pure magic. If they’d floated several feet above the ground, it wouldn’t have surprised her.

He slowly released her mouth. “Happy early birthday, Morgan.”

“It truly has been,” she sighed. “And I was spared having everyone sing to me.”

“You’re in luck. We don’t sing Happy Birthday.”

“What do you do?”

Eyes twinkling, he swept her up in his arms. “Toss you into the stream.”

“Wait—it’s not really my birthday yet.”

“True.” He circled with her in dizzying revolutions. “You have about two more hours until your dunking.”

“Crap, Jackson. I’m almost seventeen.”

“I could’ve sworn we’d established that.”

“I just realized again.” There was no escaping it. Like water cascading over a falls, she moved inexorably toward the hour of her full transformation.

“Jackson!” Miriam hailed him from the impromptu table where she and Willow were clearing away the last of the dishes. The majority of the work had already been undertaken with generous help from the other women. “Get Morgan into the kitchen. She hasn’t had her cake yet. We’re all heading in.”

He stopped spinning her. “Be there in a second, Grandma!”

“I’m not really hungry for birthday cake. Feeling a little giddy now,” Morgan said under her breath.

“Oh, you’ll want this one.”

The significance in his assertion caught her ear. “Why?”

He lowered her onto her feet and lent a steadying hand. “It’s filled with soothing herbs to help you retain control tomorrow, and it’s the most delicious cake you’ve ever had. Better than chocolate.”

“What could possibly be better than that?”

“Taste it, and see.”

“Okay. Let’s go.” She started across the yard, hand-in-hand with him. “But no dunking me later.”

“That’s only for the guys, anyway, on their sixteenth birthday. Wolf day. If we can catch them.”

“Did they catch you on your sixteenth?”

He grinned. “Didn’t even keep me in sight.”

“I’ll bet.” She knew how fast he was. “What do the girls get for their sweet sixteenth?”

“A party dress. But none of them turn into werewolves. You’d spoil yours out running in the woods.”

Wistfulness tugged at Morgan. “I’d like to be ordinary and get a dress for my seventeenth instead of the ice queen.”

He paused with her before the door. “No you wouldn’t.”

“Why on earth not?”

Curling his fingers at her cheek, he said, “If you were any girl, other than who you are, we’d never work out.”

A mind-bending declaration, at odds with Morgan’s reluctance to embrace her destiny. “Some Wapicoli men marry regular women.”

“I’m not like the others. I’m the
seventh
Wapicoli after Okema. I can’t be with just anyone. Besides, if you weren’t who you are, you’d probably already be killed by Panteras.”

“You came to our rescue,” she reminded him.

“I saw who you were, knew why they were after you.”

“Because we were murder witnesses.”

He shook his head. “Because you’re Morcant. The witness thing is secondary. How do you think they tracked you down in the first place? They scented you. Remember, your wolf scent grows as you near the change.”