Several Weeks Later
Alex steered the golf cart through the cars and motorcycles parked in front of his house and glanced over at Gwen. The nervous energy was rolling off her. It was the morning of first moon week since she’d learned about the pack and her role in it. Today they would make it official.
For the past few weeks she’d spent nearly every daylight hour down in the fledgling cave poring over the battered leather journal. Each morning after breakfast she would pack a lunch, kiss Alex goodbye then head out the door with her dog in tow. They had dinner together every evening and spent the nights making love. Her draw was irresistible and Alex thought he’d never get his fill of her.
Swinging the golf cart into a spot at the base of the stairs, Alex cut the engine and turned to her. “Ready?” he asked.
She shrugged. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Are you sure I’m dressed okay?”
He swept his gaze over her. Despite assuring Gwen that this get-together was casual, she’d spent the better part of an hour trying on everything in her closet. In the end she’d settled on jeans and a red cashmere sweater. The top hugged her curves and the low neckline framed her cleavage.
Alex couldn’t wait until this party was over so he could get her back into bed. He’d be sure to get rid of the guests long before sunset so he and Gwen could spend some quality time together. After moon rise she could sleep while he ran with the pack. He had a feeling she’d need the rest after the ceremony.
“You look great, Gwen. Like I said, there’s nothing to be nervous about. Now, do you have your speech ready?”
A look of horror overtook her pretty face. “Speech? You didn’t say anything about a speech!”
Alex chuckled. “I’m kidding. Just relax and enjoy it. This is your moment. Now let’s go in. Everyone is waiting to see you.”
As they climbed the stairs, Gwen squinted toward the shadows in the tree line. “Is that a horse?”
Following her gaze, Alex spotted the animal hitched to a sapling at the edge of the lawn. “Jeremiah is here.”
“Jeremiah?” Gwen asked.
“The pack shaman. He founded the enclave with your great, great…honestly I don’t know how many greats, but your ancestor Mathias Chaney.”
Gwen nodded and followed him up the stairs. As soon as he opened the front door, the sounds of music and laughter spilled out of the house. The entire pack had gathered in the spacious great room and it seemed everyone had a drink in hand.
Several members had gathered around the pool table. Henry Wagner was bent over the green felt, his cue drawn back to break, when he spotted Alex. The barber quickly stood, laid the stick on the table and bowed his head. In an instant all eyes were on Alex. His skin tingled as, in unison, they all dropped their gazes to the floor. Alex silently released them and they queued up, in order of seniority, to greet their new alpha and human consort.
After Tiny Wainwright had said his helloes, he crossed to the jukebox and switched off the music. The last in line, behind even Henry, was Sergei Markov.
The tension in the room was palpable as the Russian approached slowly, staring at his enormous feet. “Greetings, my alpha.”
Sergei’s arms hung at his sides and Alex had to reach out to initiate a handshake. You are welcome here, Sergei. No hard feelings, Alex telepathed. It wasn’t until Alex placed his left hand on his predecessor’s shoulder that the big man met his gaze.
Guiding Sergei to his side, Alex looked at each of the other guests in turn. “The transfer of power has been made peacefully. The strength of this pack depends on inclusion and cooperation. Sergei Markov remains a valuable and trusted member of our community. Understood?”
The new alpha’s statement was answered by nods. Alex patted Sergei between the shoulder blades, then held out his hand to Gwen. She joined him at his other side, and Alex smiled out at the group. “This is a party, folks! We’re here to welcome our new human consort. Most of us don’t remember a time before John Chaney. He served us well and now his granddaughter will uphold his legacy. With that, I’ll turn the proceedings over to Jeremiah Morgan.”
The crowd parted as the shaman strode from the back of the room. Jeremiah looked like a middle-aged man, but Alex had been told he was centuries old. His silver hair hung over his shoulders in two long, neat braids and he was dressed from head to toe in buckskin. When Jeremiah stopped in front of them and smiled, Alex felt a deep peacefulness.
The shaman looked Gwen over then turned back to Alex. “Do you present this human to the pack in full confidence in her merit as a candidate for consort?”
Alex squeezed Gwen’s hand and was so overwhelmed with pride that he could barely find his voice. “I do.”
A jolt of energy coursed through Gwen’s body when Alex placed her hand in Jeremiah’s. The shaman led her across the room and positioned her beside a large copper bowl that had been set on a wooden stand in front of the fireplace.
The guests quietly gathered in a semicircle facing them. Gwen recognized several people from the garage sale and nodded at them. Their faces remained expressionless and fear knotted in her belly. She had an overwhelming urge to turn her head, and when she did, Jeremiah was staring at her.
“Gwen Chaney, granddaughter of John Chaney, direct descendant of Mathias Chaney, do you understand why you have been called here?” Jeremiah asked.
Gwen nodded. When he did not continue, she understood that she must speak. “I do.”
“Do you accept the duty of your legacy with free will and an open heart?”
“I do.”
“Have you carefully read the instructions left to you by your ancestors?”
“I have.”
“Do you swear to guard with your life the secrets of the moon people and the mysteries you shall witness?”
Guard with your life? Gwen swallowed hard before answering, “I do.”
Jeremiah moved behind the wooden stand and slid open a small drawer below the copper bowl. He drew out a knife and Gwen’s heart thundered.
The shaman grabbed Gwen’s wrist and held her hand, palm up, over the bowl. She glanced out at the two dozen or so people between herself and the exit and realized that escape would be impossible. Turning back to Jeremiah, Gwen took a deep breath and awaited her fate.
Tightening his grip on her wrist, Jeremiah held the knife over her hand. “As you have promised your loyalty to us, so we give you ours in return. Human you remain, though none on Earth will be held in higher esteem.”
Gwen fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut and watched as he lowered the dagger. Though she was prepared to have her wrist slit open, he only pressed the cold blade into her fingertip. He made a tiny incision, less than a quarter inch, and milked a few drops of blood into the bowl.
Jeremiah swept his thumb over the wound and it instantly sealed shut. He then held his own hand over the bowl, pricked his finger and squeezed his blood into the vessel.
The shaman didn’t speak and Gwen didn’t notice him give any signal, but the group fell into an orderly line and each guest stepped forward in turn with their hand extended, awaiting the prick of the dagger.
Alex was the last to add his blood to the bowl. He met her gaze and winked at her, then stepped back into the crowd of onlookers. Jeremiah licked the blade clean, placed the knife back in the stand and nodded to the group.
Tiny Wainwright stepped forward and bowed to the shaman. The biker grabbed Gwen’s left wrist and pushed up the sleeve of her sweater. The thick fabric bunched up above her elbow but wouldn’t advance any farther. Tiny glanced at the shaman as if looking for direction.
One corner of Jeremiah’s mouth quirked up. “Miss Chaney, if you’ll please remove your sweater so we may complete the ceremony.”
Gwen hesitated for only a moment, then slid the cashmere over her head and let it drop to the floor. She’d worn her lacy red pushup bra, knowing how much Alex loved it, and when she glanced over at him, she could see the passion in his eyes.
The feeling of dozens of admiring eyes on her was intoxicating. Her nipples hardened against the silky fabric and her pussy tingled and creamed. Gwen couldn’t wait for this little ceremony to be over. As soon as the last guest was out of here, she was going to be all over Alex.
Tiny Wainwright stepped back up to Gwen and looked over the length of her arm. She glanced at the front of his jeans and saw the hard line of an erection pressing against the faded denim. His hand was shaking as he dipped a finger into the copper bowl.
Holding her at the elbow with one hand, he quickly traced a design on her upper arm in blood, and stepped back into the group. When Gwen saw the spiral within the inverted triangle—painted in the blood of everyone gathered there—the sense of pride and belonging overwhelmed her.
She was still admiring her wolf’s mark when Jeremiah sidled up beside her, slipped his arm around her bare waist and addressed the pack. “It is my great honor to present to you your new human consort, Gwendolyn Rose Chaney!”
A cheer went up from the crowd and Gwen did a double take at hearing her full given name. She laughed when she realized how silly it was to be surprised that this group would know it.
Gwen was still basking in her official welcome when Alex shouldered his way through the pack and swept her into a bear hug. He kissed her hard then pressed his lips to her ear. “I’m so proud of you, babe! How about a drink?”
“Can I put my clothes back on?” she whispered.
Alex winked at her. “For the time being, but don’t get too used to it. I’m going to go circulate.”
Gwen had no sooner pulled her sweater over her head than a glass of champagne was pressed into her hand. She looked up into Sergei’s deep, dark eyes. He smiled down at her. “I have not had a chance to offer my apologies,” he said.
“No harm done, big guy. Let’s just chalk it up to too much wine, huh?”
The Russian bowed. “You are too generous. Thank you.”
Sergei slipped away and the solemn mood of the ceremony was quickly replaced by a full-on party vibe. Gwen sipped her champagne and studied the group. It was hard to believe that each and every person in that room would become the kind of snarling, snapping man-beast she’d seen in her cabin just a few weeks ago.
The females of the pack were outnumbered two to one and Gwen wondered if they transformed into something as ferocious as the males. She watched a tall, leggy redhead knock back a tequila shooter and supposed they did.
Gwen glanced at the clock over the mantle. It was just past noon. She drained her glass then made her way to the bar for a refill. Henry the barber and a few others had resumed their game of eight ball. When Gwen walked by the pool table, they stopped what they were doing and gave her a deferential nod.
Tiny Wainwright passed between them, dialed up the volume on the jukebox, then laid a beefy hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “We’re real glad to have you here, Miss Gwen. I know you’ll do your granddaddy proud.”
She couldn’t help but glance at his crotch and was surprised to see his hard-on still straining against his jeans. When she looked back in his eyes he winked. “We werewolves run hot, ma’am. No disrespect intended.”
“None taken,” she said with a laugh.
Gwen finished her second glass of champagne and Tiny poured her another. The excitement of the ceremony seemed to amplify the effects of the alcohol. Alex had told her that the world she was now a part of was highly sexual. She wondered exactly what the big biker was packing in his pants. She tipped her wine stem in his direction. “Will you join me for one?”
Tiny shook his head. “No ma’am, I don’t drink. But I’d be happy to sit with you while…”
He stopped and jerked his head toward the front of the house. “Excuse me, Miss Gwen.”
Gwen watched as he hurried to the front door and peered out the window. He laid his hand on the rubbed bronze handle, then looked back over his shoulder and whistled. The crowd fell silent. When he was sure he had everyone’s attention, he nodded. “Y’all, we’ve got company.” Then he turned and locked his gaze on Gwen, “You’re on.”
* * * * *
Later the Same Day
Gwen’s hands shook as she turned the key in the cell door. She’d read and reread every entry her predecessors had made in the journal, but she didn’t feel anything like prepared.
Just a few hours ago she’d been the guest of honor at one hell of a party. In her worst nightmares she couldn’t have dreamed that the pledge she’d made so recently would be tested so soon.
She knew she shouldn’t be surprised. Alex had told her that there were no coincidences in the shadow world. No doubt this weird universe she found herself in had aligned to bring her first fledgling to her at the first possible opportunity.
One minute she’d been sipping champagne, and the next some young guy was collapsed in Alex’s foyer seeking refuge before the three-quarter moon.
Dan Hunter, who turned out to be just two weeks shy of his thirtieth birthday, said he’d been bitten a few days before while out hiking in the forest just outside of Talbot. “I know I should have just got back to my dirt bike and driven myself back home,” he’d said. “But it’s like, you know, I couldn’t.”
He couldn’t explain why, but after wrapping his neck wound with strips of T-shirt and subsisting on cattails and creek water, he’d hiked over unknown terrain and eventually limped his way up to the huge log home.
Dan had passed out after recounting his strange vision quest and Jeremiah Morgan had tended to the young man’s bite. The leggy redhead—the one Gwen had witnessed knocking back tequila shots at the party—had copped to the attack. “He just smelled so fucking good!” she’d offered by way of explanation.
Her pack mates had taken it in stride, but Gwen had been horrified. She knew that Dan Hunter’s life would be forever changed in ways he couldn’t yet imagine. But the worst of it was that Gwen had been charged with seeing him safely through to his new reality.
Alex hadn’t been much help. He and Jeremiah had given Dan a thumbnail sketch of his predicament, fed him rare steaks and eggs over-easy and handed him off to Gwen. “She’ll take real good care of you, son,” Jeremiah had said.
Then they dropped Dan and Gwen off at Chaney Acres and made a hasty exit. She’d thought that she was in real danger of passing out when she slipped the amulet over her head and led him to the cave. It was only her sense of responsibility to this poor, clueless guy that kept her from curling into a ball and waiting for the whole thing to be over.
She’d lit the lanterns, just like the book had instructed, then guided Dan Hunter into the cell. Centuries of notes from her ancestors jumbled in her mind.
Gwen pulled the old rocking chair out of the shadows, well out of reach of the bars, and settled in, pasted on her best confident face and smiled at the fledgling.
The skinny young man behind the bars brushed his greasy blond hair from his eyes and stared back at her.
“What’s going to happen to me?” he asked.
As soon as Dan uttered the question, it was as if a switch had been flipped in Gwen’s psyche. Generations worth of journal entries had recorded this question and supplied her with an answer. “You’re safe here, Dan. I can’t explain what’s about to happen. You wouldn’t believe me even if I could. But know this, nothing you can say or do will shock me. I won’t take any of it personally. Don’t you worry. It’ll be over soon.”
Gwen had barely finished her scripted speech when the overgrown skater boy began his transformation.
“Is it hot in here?” he asked before frantically ripping off his clothes.
Dan paced the length of the cell, apparently unembarrassed by his nakedness, then stopped as if hitting an invisible wall and stared up at the skylight. Gwen leaned forward and followed his gaze. The edge of the three-quarter moon had just breeched the opening.
The fledgling drew in an audible breath of awe, and turned to Gwen. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” he asked.
Gwen smiled back at him and silently scoffed at the obviously exaggerated tales in her handbook. She sat back in the rocker and crossed her arms under her breasts. Dan’s handsome features came into focus as the moon slid across the sky. Gwen thought it was like watching a Broadway production.
The lines of Dan’s wiry body became a work of art under the moonlight. Every peak and valley of his lean muscles was defined in the glow. He tilted his face up to the skylight and the action reminded Gwen of a man standing under the cleansing stream of a shower.
Dan stretched out his arms and the change overtook him. He moaned as his limbs stretched and his boyish face morphed into something between man and animal. Gwen was mesmerized by the transformation. Even as he doubled over in obvious pain, she leaned forward to take in every nuance. She was a detached observer.
When his body had fully changed he jerked his attention from the skylight and focused on her. He stomped to the barrier between them and wrapped his clawed hands around the iron bars. She focused on the long strings of saliva dripping from his newly formed jaws. “I will kill you, bitch!” he growled.
Gwen couldn’t help but smile. The miracle she’d witnessed was something outside of reason and she was honored by the enormity of it.
“Not tonight you won’t,” she whispered.
Everything she had read in that journal, every line she had studied, had foretold what she would see tonight, but nothing had prepared her for the awesome beauty of it. Gwen sat back in the chair and wrapped her fingers over the padded armrests. She rocked serenely while Dan Hunter met the moon.
She weathered his viscous threats then kept watch while he collapsed on the cot’s bare mattress and panted as sleep overtook him. For all the young man’s fear and pain, Gwen couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.