Broken Moon: Part 1 Read online

  She curled her fingers into the sheets, wishing she was clothed again. She hated how reasonable it sounded when he said it out loud. The very things she loved most about her pack—the stability, the safety—were exactly what made her so uneasy about her future here. Everything was expected to go a certain way, including the course of her own life. How could she explain it in a way that would make him understand?

  "It's just... I feel as though everyone wants me to change, and I'm not ready for it," she said at last. "It's not that I don't want to be your mate," she added hastily, "I just want to get there in my own time, without it feeling so... I don't know, forced."

  That had been the wrong thing to say. Harper's brow furrowed, but he smoothed it over quickly, as he always did, and cleared his throat.

  "Then I'll do my best to help you get there," he said stiffly, then flashed her a smile, bending down to pick up his clothes. "Why don't we spend some time together later? I'm going out on patrol to check the west ridge, you should come along."

  He was trying to be helpful. April raised a hand towards his turned back, but hesitated. He was so ready for everything the pack expected of them. She could hardly blame him for not understanding why she wasn't. She didn't have the heart to tell him it wasn't more time spent together that they needed.

  "Okay," she said, withdrawing her hand and returning his smile as he looked back at her. "That sounds nice. We'll make it a date."

  The relief on his face was so genuine it brought a lump to April's throat. Everything was so simple to Harper.

  She would just have to get used to it, she supposed, and try her best to keep her conflicted feelings to herself.

  * * * * *

  The leader, the one the others called Blackthorn, led the way to the Highland Pack camp in silence. He remained in his human form all the way, which Cyan was thankful for. It gave him an excuse to do the same. In the same way he would have treated a wild animal, he preferred to keep his wolf on a short tether whenever possible. The less he indulged in his feral side the better.

  It wasn't a long journey, but the terrain remained difficult and tiring the whole way. The rain eased up, and by the time they arrived it had given way to fluffy spots of snow trying their best to settle on the damp ground.

  Through the thickening pine trees they came to a flattened area on the steep slope, surprisingly open for a werewolf camp, commanding an impressive view down the side of the mountain to the forests below. The layout of the small area was more in line with Cyan's expectations, though far more neat and civilised than the home territory of most werewolf packs.

  Log seats and a carpet of gravel and wood chippings surrounded the central fire, the gravel curving off into carefully laid paths that led to a handful of wooden cabins tucked in beneath the trees and into the side of the mountain. Cyan could only make out roughly a dozen dwellings, but other paths led further up the mountain and between the rocks of the sheer cliff face, likely leading to more of the small buildings.

  It was eerily beautiful, even soaked in rain. The air was tinged with the smell of wood smoke and pine needles, and everything about the place gave off the feeling of a quaint, quiet life lived in the solitude of the mountains. He had certainly visited far less welcoming werewolf camps.

  "Not what you were expecting?" Blackthorn looked him up and down as they came to a halt in front of the central meeting area.

  "I don't know," Cyan replied. "Judging from the size of you all I half expected a tribe of highland barbarians. But I'll take this instead."

  "Good. Wait here while I fetch the elders, then we'll decide what to do with you."

  "We shouldn't have brought him to the camp," one of the other wolves said as he shifted back into his human form.

  "Look at the sky," Blackthorn snapped, pulling off his gloves and flicking them in the direction of the clouds. "A bad storm's coming. I'm not leaving anyone out there once it hits, not even an outsider. He can stay here until the weather passes." He paused. "But I have a feeling the elders will want to keep you around, Cyan. You're exactly the kind of stray Ingrid likes to take in."

  He raised his eyebrows at that. "Is she your alpha? A female?"

  Blackthorn shook his head. "No alphas in the Highland Pack, not for years. We have our elders, four people who we trust to make the right decisions for the rest of the pack."

  "Three people," a quiet voice chipped in behind Cyan.

  Blackthorn sighed. "Yes, three people now. Anyway, you can have a history lesson on the pack later. For now, wait here." He strode away towards a large cabin close to the central meeting area and rapped on the door, leaving Cyan to take the weight off his feet on one of the log benches.

  He was exhausted. How long had it been since he'd slept somewhere comfortable? Weeks? Months? He rubbed his aching eyes, crushing the exhaustion down and forcing himself to focus.

  He spent so much time living from moment to moment these days, trying to keep his wolf subdued while still clinging on to some tangible goal, that it was easy to forget what it was like to have a pack he could call his own. A pack that respected him. Obeyed him.

  He swallowed the bitterness in his throat and rubbed his hands together to ward off the biting cold. He doubted he'd have the luxury of a pack that obeyed him ever again. He didn't deserve it.

  Blackthorn returned shortly with a middle-aged woman in tow. From the lines around her eyes and the way her greying hair had been hastily tied back Cyan could tell she'd been woken up prematurely.

  "This is Ingrid," Blackthorn said, tucking a hand behind his back formally as he introduced them. "Shall I wake the other elders?"

  "It's fine, Blackthorn," Ingrid said in a soft, steady voice. "I doubt Gene would care either way, and Harriet would just look for reasons to disagree with me. So, Cyan?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "You're a loner? From the forest packs?"

  He nodded. "If you'll have me, I'd love to stick around. I've been looking for your pack for a long time."

  More people were starting to appear from the cabins around the edges of the camp, all eyes focused on Cyan as they whispered to one another, hanging back out of the falling snow. They glanced away when he looked at them, or returned his unflinching stare with cold detachment. All except for a pretty red-haired girl standing in the doorway of her cabin with her mate beside her.

  She gave him a tentative smile, and for the first time in months a faint glimmer of relief warmed inside Cyan.

  "Blackthorn says you've been out there by yourself for two years," Ingrid said. "How did you survive?"

  Cyan shrugged. "The same way any wolf survives. Hunting. Being careful. Smart."

  "And you never felt the urge to give in to your wolf that whole time? To go feral?"

  "No," Cyan looked from Blackthorn to Ingrid. "Why does that surprise you?"

  "We've had problems with people losing touch with their human side over the years, even among the safety of our own pack," Blackthorn said. "It's been a while since it last happened, but—"

  "It'll happen again," Ingrid cut in sharply. "If you're used to keeping your wolf at bay, Cyan, then I'd like to hear how you managed it for so long. Provided you don't cause any trouble, you're free to stay, at least for a little while."

  "Until the weather passes," Blackthorn murmured.

  "Until I say so." Ingrid shot the tall male a glare. He pressed his lips together tightly, but nodded in compliance.

  "I won't be any trouble," Cyan said. "But I can't promise I'll be much help with your feral problem either."

  "We'll see. In the meantime you can get yourself dry and find something to eat. Blackthorn will show you to one of our empty cabins. Stick to the main camp, and if you have any questions make sure you ask. We have rules, and you'll be expected to obey them while you're here." Ingrid rubbed her hands together against the cold and turned back towards her cabin. "Try and get a fire started before the snow gets too heavy, I don't want to spend all day hiding indoors from the cold."

  Blackthorn
nodded once more and gathered his group to clear away the soaked ashes of the central fire and bring in dry wood. Cyan watched as they erected a sturdy gazebo of stitched animal hides over the area with an open flap at the top to let out smoke, the Highland wolves carefully kindling a fresh blaze to life beneath its shelter.

  He shivered in his wet clothes, leaving the others to go about their work with the routine efficiency of a group well-used to battling the elements.

  He'd been lying when he told Ingrid he wouldn't be able to help her. There had been many times over the years, even before he was a loner, that the urge to give in to his wolf had risked driving human reason from his mind permanently. The grim memories chilled him more than the freezing wind blowing through his clothes.

  He wouldn't share those experiences with anyone, nor how he had managed to deal with them—if "dealing with them" was what he could even call it. He could barely stand to think about it himself, let alone speak of it out loud, and to strangers.

  Everyone was a stranger to him, these days.

  He snorted and eased the thick hunting jacket off his shoulders as the fire blazed to life, drawing on the aggression of his wolf for just a moment to dispel his unpleasant thoughts. The irony that his feral side was both the source of and the solution to his greatest demons wasn't lost on Cyan.

  He noticed Blackthorn keeping one eye on him at all times, but besides that none of the other Highland wolves seemed interested in approaching him. A few came over to the fire once it was burning, but none shared his log bench.

  That was fine by Cyan. He was used to it.

  * * * * *

  "I'm going to go and say hello," April whispered to Harper in the doorway of her cabin.

  "Really? What for?"

  "He's an outsider, think of all the stories he might have to tell! He could even have come from one of the other packs."

  "Why would we need to know about them? It's not like it matters to us."

  April rolled her eyes at him. "Because there's more to the world than just this little mountain. It'll be interesting! Besides, who else is going to talk to him?"

  Harper gave her a shrug. "Okay then, if that's what you want. I'm going to go get something to eat. See you on that patrol of ours later?"

  April hesitated as he leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Aren't you even a little bit curious about who he is?"

  "Nope," Harper said. "If it matters Ingrid will let us know. If not, I'd rather spend today doing something worthwhile."

  "Yeah, sure." April poked out her tongue at him as he stepped away. "I'll just waste my day being nice to strangers, I guess."

  Harper chuckled and waved her off. "I'll see you later."

  Perhaps it really was a waste of her time. Harper had only been joking, but she couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at his dismissive attitude, especially after the uncomfortable moment they'd shared inside. She'd gotten in trouble before when her curious streak had led to her flaunting the pack's rules, but there was nothing wrong with just talking to an outsider, surely?

  Blackthorn's stern gaze followed her all the way down the path from her cabin to the central fire, and she made sure to give him a nudge with her elbow as she passed by. He cleared his throat audibly and tried to correct his flinch without making it obvious, but she saw the smile on the newcomer's lips as he looked their way.

  "Don't worry about Blackthorn," she said as she sat down on the bench beside the weatherbeaten, dark-haired man. "He used to boss us all around when we were little, too. He was the big boy, so he had to be all "responsible" for everyone."

  The outsider smiled again, and Blackthorn turned away as though he hadn't heard the comment.

  "Well it's nice to know there's at least one friendly face here," he said. "I'm Cyan." He held out his hand and she took it with a grin, a little surprised by the firmness of his grip, the hard callouses of his fingers digging into her skin like claws.

  "April. Pleased to meet you!"

  He looked a few years her senior, but couldn't have been older than thirty. A rough coating of stubble lined his jaw, and his eyes shone a light, almost amber shade of brown. Though his thick black hair was a little wild and long, she thought it suited him nicely. After all, if he was a wild lone wolf he might as well look the part.

  "Are you from one of the forest packs?" She asked, curiosity tingling inside her.

  "Take your pick," he replied. "I've been with just about all of them at one point or another. I take it you don't get much news from the outside world up here?"

  She shook her head. "I was a teenager the last time we had any outsiders come to visit."

  Cyan whistled. "And there was me thinking the forest was cut off from civilisation..."

  "Hey, we can't all be world travellers. Some of us have homes to go to." April winced. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

  "It's fine. I'd have a home if I wanted one. Sometimes it's just hard to settle down."

  "Try telling that to everyone here," she said. "Settling down's pretty much the story of our lives. Not that that's bad, of course," she added hastily.

  Cyan nodded, gazing into the fire as he held out his hands to warm them. Thin scars traced his muscular forearms, and when April's eyes flicked up to his face she saw the firelight glinting off what looked like faint claw marks running across his nose and cheek.

  She shivered, wondering again whether Harper had been right about avoiding this man. There was nobody like this in the Highland Pack.

  "So... what are the other packs like?" She piped up again, her curiosity getting the better of her.

  "Full of werewolves." Cyan turned towards her with a disarming smile. "In all honesty they don't seem much different to your pack from what I've seen so far. Some of them like the comforts of home, some prefer tents and bushes, but... They all keep to themselves, for the most part. Everyone tries to dig out their own little corner of the world."

  "So what are they like? C'mon, I want to know! Tell me about the Wood Pack, they're the largest, right?"

  Cyan let out a sigh, but it seemed reflective rather than perplexed. "They're the largest, and the oldest so far as I know. Good people. They make camp in an old logging ground, and if there's anything close to a civilised society of werewolves, they're it. I learned a lot while I was with them. Then there's the Wild Pack—"

  "I haven't heard of them before," April cut in. "Are they new?"

  "Yes," Cyan nodded, then moved quickly on. "We'll have to wait and see how they turn out. Anyway, the River Pack are the closest ones to the mountain here. They managed to find a huge waterfall cave to make their den in. I was almost tempted to stay there just for the ambience, but they barely know how to hunt. I didn't feel like settling down as a fisherman werewolf." He nodded at one of the others carrying over a skewer of rabbit ready for roasting once the fire burned down. "You like to hunt?"

  "Only when I don't have to use my teeth." She pulled a face. "I have one of those weird inner wolves who isn't fond of the taste of blood."

  "Maybe that's a good thing," Cyan said. "You don't seem like the bloodthirsty hunter look would suit you."

  April snorted in amusement. "Whereas you probably know all about it?"

  "My wolf's always enjoyed a good hunt." He bobbed his head. "Anyway, those three are the main forest packs right now, all going strong."

  "Isn't there one more? What about the Mine Pack?"

  Cyan grimaced. "Not a pack worth remembering. They're as good as gone now, ever since they got greedy for more territory and started making enemies. Just count yourself lucky you didn't start out as one of them." His face darkened, and he went back to staring into the flames.

  April's apprehension returned as she watched him. From the bitterness in his voice, it didn't take much to figure out which pack Cyan had come from originally. The Highland Pack might have had its flaws, but there were certainly far worse places for a werewolf to end up. Not everyone was able to cling to their grip on humanity like her people were.

&
nbsp; "It sounds like you've been through a lot," she said."

  "I'm sure your pack has too." He shook his head. "Don't worry about me, I'm nothing special."

  "Are you planning on staying with us?"

  "Maybe." He paused, pensive. "At least for a little while. I'll probably move on again before long, I always seem to these days."

  April nodded, a little disappointed. It had been so long since anyone new had joined their community, she would have been glad for the opportunity to welcome a new face. She wasn't sure what to make of Cyan just yet, but he seemed like a seasoned and mature werewolf. Despite the cautious nature of her pack mates, deep down she didn't feel as though they had any real reason to be afraid of this newcomer.

  "About your pack," he said, leaning towards her and nodding in Blackthorn's direction. "Any touchy instincts I should be worried about?"

  April grinned and shook her head. "Nothing you need to tread on eggshells for. Blackthorn just likes structure and orders, but he's not a bad guy."

  She thought back fondly to the time she and Harper had first learned about instincts, the overriding, single-minded desires that manifested themselves differently in each werewolf. It was almost a coming of age for those of them who were born this way, learning to commune with their inner wolf and feeling one animal instinct grow stronger than the rest until it became a defining part of their personality. Harper's instinct was the desire to prove himself, to one-up whatever he'd done before, to conquer new goals. In their childhood years he'd always wanted to climb higher and higher up the mountain, take the more perilous paths, race to get home just a little bit quicker than the last time. When one of their adventures together had left him with a broken leg, Ingrid had sat them down and explained patiently that his developing instinct was going to be a part of him for the rest of his life, and that he would need to learn to rein it in if he didn't want to end up with any more broken bones in the years to come.