Blood Moon (MalexMale Paranormal Fantasy)

Chapter 16 ∞ DAIRE

It never occurred to me that I'd have a gut-turning attraction to an alpha wolf. An individual like him that my awareness instinctively orbits. I knew I had the option to spend my life committed to one, devoted mainly to them, but had assumed if it came to it that I'd find my pleasure elsewhere, like every other master warder I'd known. You'll find stolen moments to meet a vampyre, they'd told me. Not one ever connected it to the alpha I'd be serving, even with the warders' origin tale being an epic love story to unite the species.

I'm not sure what Reeve thinks about it. Us. He's been different here. Open in a way I'm terrified of losing once we leave. It feels too delicate for me to even think about for too long; afraid that any stray thought or wrong move could hurtle us backward to a place of wary distance.

He seems to be operating from a place of intrinsic need and a wolf's drive to mark and possess, and it awakens parts of me, desires within me, that I'd been wholly unaware of.

I watch him discussing exports with an elder theta, his handsome face placid in concentration, except for the pursed lips from restraining a smile, aware of my eyes upon him.

He looks at me when the male finally bows and returns to his work. "See something you like, vampyre?"

"Not particularly, that theta was a bit old for my taste," I say.

"Funny. You stare at me any harder I'm going to start to think you have the ability to see through my clothes."

I wish.

I give him another full-body appraisal. The sight makes my skin feel too tight, and hot—prickly hot—as he walks past me. My eyes home in on his hands, thick and powerful, and my mouth wets recalling them all over me last night.

"Daire." I look to Reeve with hooded eyes, and a cocky grin splits his face. "What are you thinking about?"

"Exports."

His laugh is loud and bright, slicing through the fog of lust. "Liar."

I catch up with him, shrugging off his scrutiny as inconsequential.

"If exports get you this worked up, I'm going to start hanging out at our pack's shipping dock."

My laugh sputters into a groan when I feel his teeth nip at my throat. He gives the skin a tight suck and pulls off, no doubt adding to his tapestry of hickeys over the whole of my body. "Let's go, Warder. We have a lot of pack land to cover."

We split up, mostly because it's very clear we're unable maintain a professional distance when we're together. I walk through the cottages, weather-battered and timeworn, struck by the laughter and deceptive energy of the pack. The Silver Bloods' more earthy tones are replaced here by berry reds and pinks, daffodil yellow, and the brilliant blues of Lake Migan. The brick wall of the pack gathering hall is painted with a colorful mural depicting a full, diamond-like moon hanging over water. Across the bottom is a painted excerpt from a prayer: And all life was dimmed but for the light of the moon and the call that arose in the wolf. The revelation of Satu's greatest gift.

Tributes to the deity mark each trail, her signature S artistically styled and staked into the ground. Words of blessing are exchanged casually in conversations, and the path toward the prayer altar overlooking the lake bears more tread marks than any other. But what strikes me most is not the level of devotion but that it is out of true joy and love and gratitude, not out of desperate pleas for something better as I would have thought by the state of their pack.

As I near their sacred altar, the edges of the path become increasingly crowded with what appear to be gifts: knit blankets, baskets of freshly baked bread, bundles of clothing, used tools, and an assortment of home essentials. Upon reaching the blessed stone, the items triple in number, surrounding the small stone statue of Satu feeding the first wolf pup.