Beneath a Blood Moon (45 page)

Before I had become a Fenerec, I neither liked nor disliked dogs. Sometimes, I watched them play in the park, amused by the way they romped. Emulating them, I shoved against my mate, nuzzling his throat.

He shoved me back, hard enough to knock me off balance, although he didn’t flatten me outright. With nips and bumps of his nose, he drove me out of the den, darting away only to halt and watch me with his blazing eyes. I chased him, my growls matching his. While it was a game, there was purpose as well. Wolves didn’t speak, not in words, but I could feel him searching for something although he never left me far behind, pausing in his hunt to toy with me and encourage me with yips and warbles.

My wolf relaxed, and her enjoyment of our mate’s attention warmed me from within. Where my mate went, I would follow, nipping at his heels every step of the way.

We left the small den behind without looking back.

Anything unfortunate enough to cross our path fell to my mate’s fangs. The first rabbit he slaughtered went down with a squeal, its head crushed with a single bite. Instead of eating it, he picked it up, trotted to me, and dropped it in front of me, huffing at me.

My wolf’s thirst for blood ignited at her first scent of it, and yanking control away from me, she pounced on the still-twitching corpse, ripping away clumps of fur to get at the meat beneath. Lying down, she rested her paws on the rabbit, relinquished control to me, and waited expectantly.

Hunger gnawed at my belly, and while I was disconcerted by eating anything raw, I took a tentative bite.

To my wolf tongue, fresh rabbit tasted better than even chocolate. Salty sweetness flooded my mouth, and in my hurry to devour my mate’s offering as fast as I could, I choked on it. Coughing and wheezing, I fought to swallow it down.

Sanders bit my nose in what my wolf identified as rebuke. Whining, I ducked my head over my rabbit, staring up at him. He nudged me with his muzzle before prodding the corpse with his paw.

I ate almost everything, avoiding the bits my wolf didn’t approve of and the rabbit’s head, which I couldn’t bring myself to swallow. When I left it, my mate claimed it for himself without any sign of my digust.

The single rabbit filled me, and I sighed my satisfaction. My mate licked his muzzle and then drove me on with a few nips until I followed obediently in his wake. Through my eyes, my wolf watched our mate hunt with interest.

Mice proved common prey, which my mate swallowed whole. Rabbits he took longer with, chewing on them and breaking the bones apart before eating them. Like my wolf, he left some behind, though I didn’t understand what was so offensive about the leftovers.

We came across a road at nightfall, which Sanders regarded with disdain. The highway had two lanes each way, and despite the late hour, there were too many cars for my liking. He snarled and crouched in the brush lining the shoulder.

Once traffic settled, I ran across the first set of lanes and skidded to a halt in the median, turning to face my mate. He barked at me, fangs bared in a snarl.

I don’t know why I did it, but I danced on my paws, lifting my tail while opening my mouth in a canine grin. Both of his white-tipped ears turned back. When traffic cleared, he surged across the road, shoving his shoulder against mine. He nipped my neck, sending pleasant tingles running through me. I nipped back, and we romped in the grass, him chasing me. I taunted him with wags of my tail, and when the highway cleared enough I could dodge the oncoming cars, I led him across.

He caught me on the other side, barreling into me. Yelping, I went down and rolled. Before I could recover, he pounced, nipping my neck again. The scent of his desire filled my nose, waking my need for him. I scrambled to my paws, jumped so I could bump shoulders with him, and nipped him back in invitation before running away.

I slowed only long enough I was certain my mate chased me, his attention focused on me and me alone. With deliberate care, I toyed with him, drove him to desperation, and when his need echoed through the bond we shared and burned within me, I gave my wolf control so she might enjoy our mate.

Chapter Twenty-Three

We denned at the base of an old tree, and Sanders curled around me, his muzzle burrowed against my belly. His tail was longer than I was, covering me like a blanket to shield me from the winter wind. If the cold bothered my mate, he showed no sign of it.

When we slept, we did so in shifts, and I rested first. By the time I awoke, a dusting of snow covered us and the ground. My mate sighed his contentment. Closing his eyes, he slumbered, and in no hurry to leave his warmth, I rested my head over his neck and watched the forest for threats.

All remained quiet.

Bored of watching a still forest, I wiggled and squirmed until I sat circled by my mate, grooming him to smooth his red fur. Both my wolf and I were amused by the black stripe down his back, which tapered off halfway down the length of his tail. I discovered the tip of his tail twitched whenever I pawed at it, tempting me into playing with it until he woke near sunset. His amber eyes focused on me when I pounced on his tail, seized the tip in my teeth, and tugged.

We rolled and wrestled, and though he was far larger, he remained gentle despite the viciousness of his mock growls. When hunger drove us to hunt, the full moon hung heavy in the sky, bathing us in its light. Throwing his head up, my mate howled. A distant cry answered him. Cocking back an ear, Sanders listened, head tilted to the side. The amber of his eyes brightened to a blazing inferno.

Herding me with nips and shoves, my mate headed in the opposite direction of the strange wolf. Another howl carried through the night, and Sanders turned his ears back. Unnerved by the worry and rising anger in his scent, I broke into a lope, checking over my shoulder to make certain he followed.

We ran side by side until we couldn’t hear the calls of the rival wolves. Panting, I staggered to a halt, lowering my head. My mate prodded me with his nose, pushing me forward. I braced my legs, turned my ears back, and snapped my teeth at him.

He bared his fangs at me.

Whining, I flopped onto my side, rolled onto my back, and played dead. Huffing, Sanders ran his nose from my stomach to my throat, gently nipping me as he went. He sank down beside me with a groan, placed his paw on my chest, and rested his head near mine. We rested, my wolf content.

Sometime later, hunger drove me back to my feet, and nipping my mate in demand, I paced until he lurched upright. My need to hunt woke my wolf, and I felt her considering taking over for our stomach’s sake. I relinquished control to her readily enough, although I fought to stay aware of what she did so I might learn.

While my mate would eat mice in single swallows, my wolf adored the way they crunched between her jaws when she caught one. Sanders watched, his amusement sweetening his scent. After catching several, she gave me a turn at hunting.

Under her guidance, I learned to keep still and quiet, waiting for mice to emerge from their hiding places, their whiskers quivering as they sought out food of their own. Pouncing and smacking my paw down on them worked best, stunning them long enough time for me to chomp them down in one or two bites.

Each time I caught one, my mate nuzzled my neck, his approval and pleasure warming me from within.

When he hunted, he targeted rabbits, and as he had before, he offered me his first kill, which my wolf accepted with delight. Once my belly was full of fresh meat, I hunted with him, watched him stalk through the trees, and strived to emulate his graceful, quiet movement.

The first light of had just broken over the horizon when we found a herd of deer grazing where the forest made way for farmland. Sanders bared his fangs, his amber eyes tracking the movements of our prey. He jerked his head to the left, and obedient to his wishes, I stalked away, circling around the herd.

My wolf’s eagerness bled into me. A deer would feed my mate far better than rabbits or mice, sustaining his larger body. Her need to provide for him overwhelmed my apprehension of facing so many of the long-legged foragers.

At her encouragement, I stayed within sight of my mate, found a place to hide among the bare brush, and waited. Sanders stalked forward, his ears turned back. When the first deer noticed him, they scattered, leaping in all directions as they fled from him. I surged forward, lunging for the side of the nearest doe, snapping my fangs at her. She skidded and changed directions, kicking out at me.

Instead of ducking, I closed my teeth around her fetlock, shaking my head back and forth in my effort to halt the doe’s escape. A cloven hoof connected with my shoulder and skipped along my ribs. My wolf’s fury rose at the blossoming pain.

I swallowed my urge to yip and howl, biting deeper until fresh blood welled into my mouth and washed over my tongue. Another shake of my head broke the doe’s leg, and the feel of it crunching beneath my jaws drove my wolf into a frenzy. The sweet blood on my tongue emboldened me into turning my efforts for the soft, exposed flesh of the deer’s throat.

Releasing her leg and rearing up, I dug my front claws into the doe’s hindquarters, raking at her hide. She fell, hitting the ground hard on her side. I lunged for her neck.

My mate beat me to my doe, shouldering me aside to bury his fangs in the dying animal’s throat. With a single savage shake of his head, he broke her spine. Infuriated he had stolen my kill, I snapped at him.

With a single swipe of his paw, he knocked me aside. I hit the ground hard and rolled to a halt, lying stunned. My wolf’s astonishment and dismay chilled to fear when Sanders turned his attention to me, his jaws dripping blood. My body twitched, refusing to acknowledge my frantic desire to rise.

All I could sense from my mate was rage; his attention focused on one thing and one thing alone.

Still-living prey interested him far more than the dead doe.

Sanders savaged the deer’s corpse, but I had no idea how much of it he actually ate. His gaze never left me. The cold, calculating way he stared at me was more terrifying than even more than my awareness of his anticipation of the hunt.

My wolf’s horror became my own as I realized what he craved.

A hunger for more than meat consumed my mate. He wasn’t eating because he was waiting for me to run. If my nerve broke, if I moved, he would hunt me down and break me as he had broken the doe, and he would do it for the thrill of shedding blood. I shuddered.

I was nothing more than prey to him.

Unlike Rory and Isabella, my wolf wouldn’t turn on him, not even if he attacked first. She would face him with pride. Sighing my resignation, I got my paws beneath me and staggered upright. A wise woman would have run, but my mate was far larger and faster.

If I turned tail, he’d catch me in several of his massive strides. My wolf was right.

If my nerve broke, if her nerve broke, we would die.

Unlike during the blood moon, when my terror had ruled me, my mate’s aggression ignited my anger and smothered my fear. Baring my fangs, I ducked my head to protect my throat. Without knowing what was wrong with my mate, I couldn’t help him. All I could do was fight to survive, hoping he’d return to his senses before he killed me. The stench of wildness clinging to him intensified.