The Alpha's Concubine (Historical Shifter Romance) (67 page)

"Be mindful of Adel, and be a good mate to Caspian," he said. "No matter which alpha you follow, you will always be welcome in my pack." The alpha remained still until Netya embraced him, then wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

"Thank you for the nights that made me a woman," she whispered.

Khelt's broad chest rumbled beneath her with a deep chuckle. "I shall not soon forget them. I only wish I could have given you more."

They pulled apart, and Netya bowed her head respectfully before him. "Alpha."

He tilted her chin up with a crooked finger, blinking back tears of his own. "You need call me that no longer. Goodbye, Netya."

Adel's gathering watched as the rest of the pack filed away into the distance, Netya standing between Caspian and Fern with her arms wrapped around Wren's shoulders. It was many hours before the group disappeared into the tall grasses on the horizon, but barely a word passed between Netya and her companions until their former brethren were gone. Many silent tears were shed, but no ill words were spoken. Those who remained with the den mother understood why it had to be this way. They had all come to their decisions on their own.

"Where will they go now?" Wren asked eventually.

"The snows are lighter in the south," Adel replied. "They may find an easier crossing through the mountains there."

"And what of us?" Netya said, looking to her mentor.

The den mother regarded her small group of followers one by one, making sure each of them met her gaze. "Without hunters and males, we are weaker than any of the clans whose territory we must skirt. We must be cautious, and we must be cunning. When the packs come together next summer, we must gather new strength, and pick our allies carefully. Until then, we head north. We can find shelter from the winter in the lands beyond the mountains, and perhaps a den to call our own."

"Who will be our alpha?" Wren said. "Will it be you, Caspian?"

"Do you think we need one?" he replied.

"A pack always has an alpha."

"If there is one thing I would have you all learn," Adel said, "it is that traditions will be our guiding light no longer. I am your leader. Alpha, Den Mother, call me what you wish. As long as I have your loyalty, I will do everything in my power to ensure the safety and happiness of my pack."

Netya bowed her head slightly, but she did not make it the traditionally submissive gesture she would have presented to Khelt. "Then lead us on, Den Mother. We are all your daughters and sons now."

A thin smile lit Adel's lips, and a hint of the youthful glimmer came back into her eyes.

— Epilogue
—

At the end of that year, when the first frosts of winter covered the northern grass, Netya awoke to a stirring sensation in the back of her mind. She lay there beneath the warm furs, clutching Caspian's arm around her chest as her heart beat faster. A low murmur left his lips, and he tugged her in closer against his body.

"What is wrong?" he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"It's there. I can feel it again."

"Is it troubling you?"

Netya shook her head. "It is— I do not know. It feels different this time." She squirmed in the darkness, shivering slightly as a lurching feeling dragged like a hook at the nape of her neck. The first light of dawn was visible through the hide coverings of their makeshift tent, but she could not hear the voices of the others yet. Fern and Wren still slumbered peacefully alongside them.

"Come," Caspian whispered urgently, sitting up and throwing his cloak about his shoulders. He led her out of the tent and around the coals of last night's cooking fire, down the patchy slope at the base of the mountains and toward the hills beyond. Countless specks of frost dusting the grass around them caught the light of the sun, turning the northlands into a rolling sea of silver.

Netya breathed in the crisp air, closing her eyes as the urge to run grew. She was struggling to hold the niggle in check, but it was a niggle no longer. It was a writhing force inside her, ever questioning and calling, demanding she acknowledge it. It frightened her, but only in its strangeness. The growing voice of her wolf was unlike anything she had ever known before. That morning, it refused to go back to sleep.

"I think it is time," Caspian said, bringing them to a stop at the crest of the first hill. Leagues of empty land surrounded them, free of any and all distraction.

"I am afraid," Netya said, clinging to the front of her male's clothing. "I feel as if... As if I am a bowl of water, ready to tip. And once I do, something will come out that can never go back in."

"I know the feeling well." He took her face between his palms, kissing her gently. "It will seem very strange, but it is nothing to fear. You will not be the same again, that much is true, but you will still be Netya. Let it come, gently, and see the world through your wolf's eyes."

She nodded, swallowing desperately, as if the sensation growing inside her was a bout of nausea that could be forced back down. Her senses prickled, the sights and sounds around her suddenly becoming much more keen. Caspian turned her away from him, guiding her by the shoulders as the first splinter of something unknowable broke loose from her mind.

"Try not to think. Instinct will guide you at first. Once you become used to the shape of your wolf, your thoughts will follow along soon after. Oh, and as you feel it taking hold, imagine your body clinging to your clothing like a coat of fur." He smiled. "Otherwise, you may end up very cold after you change back."

Netya nodded, her skin tingling so sharply she almost believed she was clad in fur already. The impending tug surged, flooding through her body like a hard buffet of wind, pressing outward from the spot at the nape of her neck until it had forced itself all the way to the tips of her fingers and the balls of her feet. Caspian stepped away. She stumbled, losing all sense of balance as the writhing knot broke loose and took hold, clamping around her mind like a set of iron jaws. The splinter became sharp, and for an instant the pain gripping her seemed so intense it was maddening, but as soon as it had flared it was gone, leaving Netya to wonder whether it had even been there at all.

Her body changed, the pressure inside pushing outward, beyond the limits of her small frame. She felt a splitting sensation, and remembered at the last moment to cast out the hooks of her shifting body to snag the clothing that clung to it. She dragged the wolf pelt she wore along with her, mingling with the spirit of the white beast who had become her guardian. Long fangs filled her mouth. The balance of her legs shifted backward. An overwhelming clarity came into the air she breathed, as if the scents she smelled before had been a murky fog, and now they were an intricate weaving. Within moments, the idea of
she
became something very different.
She
was no longer the girl who walked upon two legs. She was someone different. Someone new. Similar, yet distinct. Her thoughts were no less her own, but they had transformed along with her body.

Gazing down at the grass, she saw black fur cladding her paws, tinged with wisps of white, just like Adel's coat. The urge that had been building within her for weeks, the urge to run, finally broke free. Strength and energy like she had never known coursed through her limbs. She tore the ground beneath her claws as she dashed down the slope of the hill. A cry of elation left her lungs, taking shape in a feral howl that echoed across the land.

Caspian's brown-furred wolf appeared alongside her, barking with excitement as he darted ahead, encouraging her to chase him. She no longer needed words to understand him. Her new senses read the simple motions of his body and the sounds he made without having to even think about them. The message was simple, but it was clear.

Bounding up the next hill alongside him, the world sped by so fast it made her giddy. The two of them ran together until the sun was high and their fur was damp with freshly melted dew. When they finally stopped, looking back over the ground they had covered with pride, Netya felt the tingle of her thoughts returning to clarity.

She sat alongside Caspian, nuzzling into his fur, and gazed up at the sun. As welcoming as it was, she longed to see the land bathed in a different light. The moon beckoned her, calling to its new daughter, and she answered willingly.

She awaited the night, for it was her time now.

Netya's story continues in
Daughter of the Moon: The Moon People, Book Two
.

Read on for a sneak preview!

—
1—

The White Hunters

In a flash of realisation—and not for the first time in her life—Netya realised that people were about to die if she stood back and did nothing. The white fur of the wolf pelt she wore twitched in the breeze, blending in with the snow-speckled brambles around her as she crouched there in silence. Fern, her pack-sister and closest friend, shifted in agitation beside her, eyes fixed on the scene that was about to unfold before them. Their younger sister, Wren, huddled in on Netya's opposite side. She hadn't moved since they first caught sight of the white hunters.

"Will those weapons of theirs pierce a wolf's hide?" Netya whispered.

"I do not know," Fern replied. "Perhaps, if they have sharpened the tips."

It was not the white hunters to whom Fern referred, but the group of Sun People gathered a short distance ahead of them, unaware of their predicament. Netya and her companions had come out to hunt for the third day in a row, knowing that birds gathered in large flocks upon the open ground in the mornings. They were easy prey for the jaws of a silent wolf, but this morning it was more than wolves that stalked them. The Sun People were not like Netya and her kind. They lacked the ability to take the shapes of wolves, and their bodies were weak and easily hurt by comparison.

Netya knew all too well the differences between the Sun People and her. She had been born one of them, after all. This particular group was not familiar to her, however. They hunted with ingenious tools that she had never before seen. Each one of them carried a long, curved piece of wood, with a tight cord strung between both ends. She had watched in fascination as they hunted the birds by knocking long wooden darts flighted with feathers into their strings, drawing them back and launching them with greater force than even the mightiest of spear throws. All morning they had struck bird after bird from the sky, bringing down several before wringing their necks and collecting up their fallen darts, then moving on to another area as the flock settled once again.

At first Netya and her companions had kept themselves hidden, waiting for the Sun People to move on and leave the hunting grounds unoccupied. Not all of the Sun People were hostile to Netya's kind, but they were in unfamiliar territory, and Adel had instructed them to avoid strangers at all costs.

Then the white hunters had appeared. They were wolves of the Moon People, Netya and Fern's kin, but they did not belong to the same pack. That, if anything, made them even more dangerous than the others. A ridge stood between the white hunters—half a dozen wolves in total—and the five Sun People bringing down their birds. Netya and her companions had spotted both groups easily from their hiding spot, and it had not been long before the white hunters also caught the scent of strangers nearby. Though their fur was the usual light brown shared by most of the Moon People, they had streaked it with what looked like ash or paint, giving them a mottled white appearance that allowed them to blend in with the patchy snow around them. They were cunning, and they moved with the grace of seasoned predators, prowling ever closer to the group of unsuspecting Sun People on the opposite side of the ridge.

"We must do something," Netya whispered. "This will not end well if we stand by and watch."

Fern gave her a pained look, clearly conflicted. "It is not our fight to involve ourselves with. You know what the den mother would say."

"It does not have to be a fight unless we wait here and do nothing. We are seers. Is it not our duty to aid those in need?"

"
You
may be a seer..." Fern murmured, chewing her lower lip. "Oh, Netya. Why must you make a habit of throwing yourself into such danger?"

Before they could speak of it any further, the cries of the Sun People reached their ears. The decision made for her, Netya dashed forward. She allowed the sharp niggle of her wolf to rise up in the back of her mind, surging through her body and pressing outward from her core to the tips of her fingers, changing every part of her until she was running on four legs, the wind streaking through her dark coat as her clothing twisted itself into wisps of thick fur. She did not wait to see if Fern and Wren were following her, and immediately cursed herself for not cautioning the younger of her companions to stay back where it was safe. More and more often over the past few weeks she had been allowing the impulses of her wolf to take hold before her cautious mind was able to restrain them. She only hoped Fern had the good sense to do what she had not.

Haste was of the essence. The white hunters had moved to encircle their prey, sneaking up on the Sun People until it was too late for them to run. They were still holding back, hesitating, but Netya knew it was only a matter of time before one of the wooden darts was loosed from a tense string, and the conflict plunged into a bloody fight for survival.