 
## **Contents**

License Notes

Novels of The Moon People Saga

Author's Note

1 - Netya

2 - The Moon People

3 - The Wounded Girl

4 - A New World

5 - The Alpha

6 - The Desires of a Woman

7 - A Hunter's Prize

8 - Among Wolves

Afterword
THE ALPHA'S CONCUBINE - PART ONE

Claudia King

Published by Claudia King at Smashwords

Copyright © 2015 Claudia King

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Proceeds from sales directly help this author to continue doing what she loves, and to share it with you the reader!

Novels of The Moon People Saga:

The Alpha's Concubine

Daughter of the Moon

Daughter of the Night

Acknowledgements

Many thanks to Ravven (http://www.ravven.com) for her wonderful work in designing the cover art for this title, to Anna for her assistance with nitpicks and proofing, the lovely folks of KBoards for providing a wealth of knowledge, advice, and assistance in all-things authorly, along with everyone else who helped to encourage me over the course of this project!

Content Warning:

This title contains explicit sexual content.

—1—

Netya

Netya had never seen the spear that hung above the hearth in her mother's house as anything more than an ornament. That it had once been a weapon of war, used by a father she could no longer remember to fight enemies she had never seen, was just a story told by the elders around the fire. She thought Layon looked silly carrying it over his shoulder now as he walked beside her. What did they need spears for? Nothing would happen tonight. Not to them.

Still, her mother had refused to let her stand watch over the farmlands after dark without an armed escort. Netya had no interest in watch duty. Scaring off wild animals when she could be tucked up in bed beside the fire was the last thing she wanted to volunteer for. She had only used it as an excuse to get away from the village and spend some time alone with Layon. That was an adventure she was excited to pursue.

Ever since she had come of age the previous summer she'd begun to notice the way he looked at her, and the way her eyes were drawn to his golden hair and smiling lips as well. Being out here alone with him gave her a tingle that reminded her of sneaking out at night as a child. But this tingle was quite different. Layon made her apprehensive, excited, and curious all at once. He was a window through which she dared to glimpse all of the things that might await her as a young woman. Tantalising mysteries that had once seemed leagues away suddenly felt possible in his presence.

"Up here," he said, pointing with the spear. "Are you sure you want to see them? They might frighten you."

"Yes," Netya whispered, her eyes glittering as she searched the moonlit trees. "Mother never allowed us to come this way before."

"You never went to look by yourself?"

She shook her head, reaching out to run her fingers over the aged wooden stakes lining the side of the path. The ground sloped uphill, leading them through the trees as the moon rose overhead. Anxious winds whipped at Netya's dark hair, tugging at her braid, struggling to find a way in through the tightly-wrapped furs that clad her body.

"My brothers took me four summers ago," Layon said with a smile. "They were just trying to scare me, but I didn't know that back then. I spent all night trying to be brave while they told stories about how the spirits of the Moon People were still there, waiting in the dark to catch us."

"Did you believe them?"

"I would have believed anything they told me when I was a boy." Layon shrugged. "But I have never seen a spirit hurt anyone, have you?"

"They say you can not always see the work of the spirits."

Layon laughed. "Then the spirits of the Moon People are no more frightening than those of our own, if they even exist at all!" He stopped abruptly and pointed again with his spear, and this time Netya was able to make out the wall bordering the farmlands in the distance. It was a short dry stone barrier, built from chunks of slate stacked together in an uneven jumble to keep out wild animals.

"Your last chance to turn back," Layon teased, his breath tickling her ear as he leaned in close.

She gave him an impatient shove, but the back of her neck prickled as she saw the white shapes on the wall glowing in the moonlight. This was the direction the Moon People came from when they arrived from the west, and the warnings displayed on the wall were the first things they would see. It was a clear message not to come any farther.

"How many of them are there?" Netya whispered, trying to count the sun-bleached ornaments.

"A dozen. They say there used to be more."

Excitement quickened Netya's steps as she hurried ahead of Layon, her apprehension only making her more inquisitive. She could make them out clearly now. A dozen skulls, just like Layon had said, displayed proudly on the wall like trophies. Everyone knew they were here, but seeing them for the first time made the legend real. It filled her with an uncanny sense of wonder.

She had seen animal bones before, but these were nothing like the skulls of the wolves the hunters brought back from the forest. These were much larger, their fangs huge, empty eye sockets absorbing the darkness around them. Even in death, stripped of their flesh, Netya thought they watched her with an intelligence greater than that of any animal.

She made her way down the wall, eyes wide as she examined them one by one. Some were old, so ancient they were falling apart, while others were marked with notches from the weapons that had killed them. Her breath caught in her throat as she came to the final skull, so new that it still shone like polished stone.

"Is this the one they talked about?" she said, still whispering. She was almost afraid to speak aloud in the presence of these mighty creatures, even if they had long ago departed from the world she knew. Surely their spirits still lingered nearby, like Layon's brothers had said. Malevolent or not, she had no desire to disturb them.

"Yes," Layon said. "They caught it at the end of the winter. It's a good omen. It means the Moon People will not come again for a long time."

Part of Netya was almost disappointed. As terrifying and dangerous as she knew the Moon People to be, now that she had seen their skulls she was desperately curious to witness what they were like in the flesh. Were they people who possessed the bodies of animals, or animals who took on the shape of people?

She reached out with a quivering hand to touch the skull, feeling the cool, smooth contours of the bone beneath her fingertips as they traced the beast's muzzle. She could practically feel the power that had once inhabited it. The weight of its body, the hot breath snorting from its nostrils, the sharp points of fangs that could pierce flesh more easily than any spear.

"You really aren't frightened, are you?" Layon's voice came softly in her ear. He was standing close to her again, and the strange tingle returned as she curled her fingers through his.

"I am," she said, surprised by her own breathlessness. "In a good way."

"You are strange."

"I do not try to be." She let her finger trail down one of the skull's long fangs before finally withdrawing and turning to face Layon. He was looking at her curiously, with the same enticing glint in his eye that she had only caught snatches of so many times before. It drew her in, just as the wolf's skull had, calling to the part of her that longed to embrace the unknown.

"You do not try to be, but you are," Layon said. "The other girls sometimes call you a witch."

"I'm not a witch."

"No, but none of them ever asked me to take them out at night to see the skulls. And I don't think I would have wanted to bring anyone else even if they did."

Netya's body warmed. She wondered for a moment if she might be unwell, but this feeling was far more pleasant. Even holding Layon's hand felt different than it had before. She didn't think she had ever wanted to feel someone's skin against hers as much as she did in that moment.

Their eyes remained locked for far longer than was polite, and yet still she fought the urge to look away. She wanted to keep on feeling whatever it was she was feeling. Captivated by something every bit as fascinating as the stories of the Moon People.

Layon rested the spear up against the wall, the flint tip knocking against one of the skulls as he leaned in to touch her. The back of his fingers brushed her neck, sending a visible shiver through her body as they stroked their way down until his palm rested over her pounding heart.

"We could stay out here all night," he murmured.

"What would we do?" she said, her eyes finally leaving his as they became transfixed by his fingers. He stroked the braid that hung over her shoulder gently, savouring its silky touch against the pad of his thumb.

"I can show you," he said, and moved forward until his mouth was against hers.

Netya breathed in sharply, and when she did she tasted the exquisite rush of his warm breath filling her lungs. Her lips tingled with a thousand pinpricks of pleasure. The soft, wet heat of Layon's mouth drew her in, and without knowing what she was doing her lips and tongue were moving in rhythm with his, finding new places to settle and new touches to relish. The glow of her body increased a dozen times over, centring in a tight knot just below her navel that longed to be touched.

Before that evening, the unknown had been something other people concerned themselves with. Now, it was hers to explore. The night that stretched before them felt like it held all the time in the world.

When their lips parted, it was with a jolt of fear as the howl of a wolf rent the darkness.

—2—

The Moon People

Layon stepped back and picked up his spear. His eyes scanned the dark trees, flitting from one patch of shadow to the next. They had no reason to fear wild wolves. The beasts would only attack if they were desperate. Netya could not recall the last time anyone had been hurt by one.

But the skulls on the wall had not come from those wolves. Months, even years could pass between the rare occasions the Moon People ventured into their land, and yet every time they did, blood was spilled. It was the first time the howl of a wolf had frightened Netya. Neither of them needed to say a word to know what they were both thinking.

"It's probably not," Layon whispered, but he gripped the spear with both hands and raised the point in front of him. The flint tip was old and dulled with use. Not as sharp as the fangs on the skull.

Netya moved in close beside him, stifling a cry of alarm as she bumped into one of the grisly ornaments on the wall behind her. Its jawbone clacked, the wind whistling in her ears like the laugh of an angry spirit. Now she was afraid. Now she was ready to believe the stories Layon's brothers had told.

He gripped her arm suddenly, his fingers digging in with a sharpness she had never felt before. Without speaking, he gently raised the tip of the spear. When her eyes finally followed it, she saw what had provoked him to grab her so tightly.

It was far away, so dark it could have been a shadow, but it moved with the grace of something otherworldly. It wasn't the creature's size, though Netya quickly realised it was far bigger than any wolf she had ever seen, but its movements that filled her with fear. It melted into the shadows like smoke, spilled out across the grass like black water, then leaped atop the wall in a bound so smooth Netya couldn't be sure whether she had even seen it happen at all. With a lazy sweep of its hind leg the creature sent a heavy slab tumbling to the ground, before raising its muzzle to the sky and howling a second time.

The experience was so surreal that Netya's fear couldn't help but take its leave of her for a moment as she stared in wonder at the beast. It was a childhood legend come to life. The work of the spirits, or some other powerful magic she could never hope to comprehend. She longed to watch it for just a moment longer, to see the way it moved again and hear that eerie howl erupt from its chest one more time. Her curiosity drew her toward danger, but her fear was strong enough to pull her away from it.

As the creature shifted its position Netya realised it was looking down the length of the wall in the opposite direction to her and Layon. In a moment its head would swivel, and it would see them standing in the moonlight just as clearly as they saw it.

"Behind the wall," she whispered, so softly and so fast it was barely a hiss. "In the shadows."

Without waiting for Layon to let go of her arm she pushed her foot into a crack between the stones and hauled herself up alongside the skulls, wobbling on top of the wall as she bent to help her friend up after her. Had the beast looked yet? Had it seen them? Her heart beat so hard it stole her breath away. Layon clambered up alongside her, tossing his spear into the grass on the other side as they toppled over the wall in a heap together.

A dull pain shot through Netya's body as she landed hard on her hip, but she dared not cry out. Layon landed almost on top of her, the weight of his body pressing uncomfortably against her back for a moment before they scrambled to extricate themselves from one another. A loose piece of slate they had kicked free in their clumsy ascent thudded into the grass on the other side of the wall. It was barely louder than the sound of the wind in the trees, but it made Netya's heart jump in her chest.

Layon grabbed the spear with one hand while tugging her back against the wall with the other. They hunkered down together, the dampness of the grass seeping into their fur clothing as they pressed themselves into the tiny patch of shadow, letting the darkness swallow them up.

For a few moments they were alone with the sounds of their quickening breath. The beast was obscured from sight by the angle of the wall. All they could do was wait, the hard shaft of the spear pressing against Netya's breast as Layon held it close.

In a flutter of shadows, the beast hopped down on their side of the wall. It looked their way, yellow eyes shining like the stars above, but it had nothing to see but blackness. It moved again with such sleek grace that Netya found herself captivated by the wolf's movements once more. It had looked like a creature made of water and shadows when she first glimpsed it, but now she could see powerful legs and a swishing tail as it crept across the field, eyes set on the enclosure of wood and leather in the distance where the livestock were kept.

This creature was like nothing she had ever seen before, but it was no spirit. It was hungry, just like any other earthly being, and it prowled on the legs of a wild animal guided by the grace of a dancer. It was one of the Moon People.

The slates on the wall clacked as another wolf mounted the barrier and jumped down into the field behind the first. A third followed, and then a fourth.

"We have to get the others," Layon breathed into her ear.

Netya nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the procession of shadowy hunters making their way across the field. It took a tug on her shoulder to finally make her follow after Layon, crawling on all fours along the strip of shadow at the base of the wall in the opposite direction to the wolves. They moved at an agonisingly slow pace, barely daring to let their bodies brush through the damp grass as it wet their palms and knees. They had only just cleared the stretch of wall ornamented by the skulls when the shape of another hulking wolf dropped down directly in front of them.

Netya froze, swallowing a cry of shock. The beast was so close that even the shadows wouldn't hide them if it chanced to look their way. Layon was ahead of her, rising slowly into a crouch, the spear clutched in both hands.

Panic erupted in Netya's chest as she realised what he was about to do. She couldn't tell him to stop. Even a whisper would alert the wolf. It all happened within the space of a few seconds. The wolf's paws hit the grass, Layon drew back his spear to lunge, and Netya, in her desperation, reached out to try and stop him. She wasn't sure what made her do it. Perhaps it was fear: for Layon, for herself, or even for the majestic beast standing before them. She had never seen real violence before, nor did she want to. The thought of what had happened to the creatures whose skulls now adorned the wall suddenly hit her with nauseating force.

Her fingers found Layon's fur shawl just as he lunged, tugging back as he leaped at the beast with the spear held out in front of him. He was too strong for her to stop him, but her grip sent him off balance. The thrust that had been aimed at the wolf's neck missed its mark, the dull tip of the spear grazing the creature's shoulder with a long gash. Dark blood spilled out through its fur.

The wolf's howl of pain was deafening, so loud that Netya stumbled back in shock, the stones of the wall digging into her back. Whatever impulse had driven Layon to attack the creature abandoned him as it whirled around with anger in its eyes, teeth snapping at the bloodied tip of the spear. He tried to back away, jabbing at the wolf to keep its jaws at a safe distance, but with the wall behind them there was nowhere to go. A wild animal might have bolted in fear or thrown itself straight on to the spear in its anger, but within seconds the spurt of bestial aggression left their attacker. It paused, backing off, eyes studying its opponent, then twisted its head to the side and lunged.

The wolf slid past Layon's panicked thrust with ease, jaws snapping shut around the shaft of the spear and clenching tight. With the sound of splintering wood it tore the weapon from his hands, hot breath snorting from its nostrils as it snapped the spear in half like it was a twig.

Rough stone scraped Netya's palms as she scrambled backwards over the wall, trying uselessly to tug Layon after her as she lost her balance and toppled over, landing on her back on the other side. The wolf cleared the wall in a single leap. She didn't even manage to sit up before a heavy paw struck her in the centre of her chest, knocking her back down and driving the wind from her lungs.

As she gasped for air she could hear Layon shouting nearby, calling for help, raising the alarm that the Moon People were here. Only a gracious wind would carry his voice all the way back to the village from where they were, but even if it did, there was no time left for help to arrive.

Netya huddled on the ground in fear, the heavy breath of the wolf in her ears as it stood over her. A threatening growl rumbled in the back of its throat, warning her not to try and fight or run. At some point she had closed her eyes, but once she caught her breath she forced herself to open them and look at the beast standing over her. It was a monster. Huge and vicious and powerful. But its golden eyes watched her with intelligence. Intelligence, and perhaps even fear. An anxiety that mirrored Netya's own. For an instant she was able to see not just the enormous wolf that loomed over her, but another person. One who had been attacked, and had responded in kind.

"I'm sorry," she said in quavering tones, looking at the creature's bleeding shoulder. "I didn't know he'd do that. I tried to stop him."

The wolf stared at her, then raised its head and let out a low howl. Netya could not see what was happening on the other side of the wall, but she heard the drumming of heavy footfalls against the earth, the sound of fur whipping through the long grass. The rest of the Moon People had come back, and they were going after Layon.

"Please don't hurt him!" Netya cried out, trying to climb to her knees, but the wolf pushed her back down with a growl.

A male voice she did not recognise called out nearby, speaking words she could not understand. The stones on the wall rattled, and three more wolves jumped down to join the first. She did not know who had spoken, or what might be about to happen to her, but she was not dead yet. Perhaps the wolf was only waiting. Would her skull soon be adorning a wall somewhere, in whatever land the Moon People called home?

Two more wolves mounted the wall further down, followed by a man. For a moment she thought it might be Layon, but this person was taller, broader, and his long hair was the colour of the night sky. A shiver ran through Netya's body as she realised that he was no man from her own village. He was one of the Moon People. Not a beast, but a person. At first glance he looked like any other hunter, his legs bound with fur moccasin boots and covered with a kilt of animal skins, a headband of soft leather keeping his hair back from his face. Aside from a necklace of animal teeth his thickly muscled chest was bare in spite of the cold wind. He seemed not to feel it at all, approaching her as though he wore the same thick coating of fur as the wolves around him. In his hand he held the head of the broken spear.

Netya's eyes flitted desperately between the wolves surrounding her, but it was the man to whom she directed her pleading look. He was the only one she could appeal to. Was he their leader? And where was Layon? She heard his voice in the distance, still calling for help, but it was growing fainter. At least he had gotten away.

The man looked at her, but his expression held no sympathy for her wide eyes. He looked her up and down, then knelt beside the wolf standing over her and put a hand on its flank, examining the gash Layon's spear had left. He leant in and murmured something into the creature's ear, but once again Netya could not make out his words. He seemed to have a strange cadence to his voice that sounded nothing like the way her own people spoke, and she only made out snatches of words that made no sense by themselves.

The wolf snorted and bobbed its head, then stepped back. Netya didn't have time to feel relieved before her breath was taken away by what happened next. For a moment she thought the wolf was rearing up on its hind legs, but it wasn't just rearing, it was changing. Its body rippled with the same uncanny grace she had glimpsed in the shadows, fur seeming to melt away into the night as smooth skin and clothing of animal hides replaced it. Yet again the motion was so fast and so unnatural to Netya that she could barely make sense of what had happened. Just like all the other tales of the Moon People, this one was now real to her too.

A sandy-haired girl stood where the wolf had been, close to Netya's own age by the look of her, but a little taller, her bare arms toned by labour and bronzed by the sun, just like the body of the man beside her.

He spoke again, examining the wound that had remained on the young woman's arm even after she changed, and when she responded Netya finally realised that they were not simply talking in voices that sounded unfamiliar to her, but with words that her people did not use. Every now and again their speech sounded familiar, so close to Netya's own that she could almost make sense of it, but try as she might she couldn't wrap her thoughts around their exotic tongue.

Two more of the wolves changed, taking on the bodies of men as they approached the one who Netya was now sure must be their leader. They bound the injured girl's shoulder with a strip of cloth, much to her apparent protest, but a concerned look and a few hard words from the leader silenced her, and she hung her head in shame.

Netya was still recovering from the shock of everything she had just witnessed, her heart racing as the Moon People conversed in hurried tones. The leader pointed in the direction of the village, then gripped the arm of one of the other men and shook him roughly. As their eyes fell on her, Netya realised that she must be the topic of their conversation.

She finally sat up, shivering as she curled her legs to her chest, looking to the leader once more. "Did you let Layon go?" She tried not to stammer. "Are there more of you going after him?"

The Moon People fell silent. The leader looked at her for a long moment, then stepped forward and spoke.

"We do not kill without need."

She thought she saw his eyes move to the skulls on the wall for a moment, but perhaps it had just been her imagination.

"You can speak like me?" she said.

The leader did not respond. Instead he bent to pick her up by the arm and hauled her to her feet as if she weighed nothing. He turned to his people and rattled off another sharp set of instructions in his own tongue, then walked Netya to one of the wolves and pointed at its back.

"You will ride. Hold tight, or you will fall. We will run all night. Your people will not be able to follow."

Netya's stomach tightened. Riding a wild beast? She had never even considered such a thing. But before tonight, there were many things she had never considered.

"Where will you take me?" she said.

"With us."

The leader turned away, gazing down the length of the wall as the two other men changed back into their wolf shapes, the injured girl climbing astride one of the huge creatures and taking a tight hold of his neck fur. As soon as she was safely in place, her bearer bounded away into the trees.

Netya gave the leader one last desperate look. "I tried to stop Layon from hurting her."

He met her eyes, his expression once again impassive. "And yet, she was hurt. Now ride. You will not be harmed, but if you run, we will catch you." Without another word his body changed, and a moment later an alpha among wolves stood before her, huge and dark, bright eyes burning into her as she stared at him.

Feeling as though she was walking through some strange dream, Netya swung her leg over the back of the wolf beside her, trying to follow the lead of the wounded girl as she gripped the beast's fur and tried to tuck her legs in against its flanks. The feeling of a warm body reminded her for an instant of the way Layon had touched her, and her heart ached as she stared in the direction of the village. How long would it be before she saw it again?

The musky scent of the wolf filled her nostrils, the heavy thud of its heartbeat pulsing against her thighs. Danger was no longer a distant fantasy for her. She was living it. The very creature she sat astride could kill her in an instant if it so desired.

She didn't have long to think of home, or Layon, or where she might be going. The alpha howled, and her wolf broke into a trot, then a bound, and within moments she was clinging to the creature's neck for dear life, the farmlands and the wall of skulls disappearing into the night behind her as the trees whipped by in a blur.

—3—

The Wounded Girl

They ran all night, just as the alpha had said. It was an anxious, exhausting, exhilarating experience for Netya. For the first hour she clung to the wolf so tight that her body was soon aching, terrified that the jolting motion of the creature beneath her would send her toppling head first into a patch of rocks or the trunk of a tree if she loosened her grip for even an instant.

The cold wind stung her eyes until they were streaming. The wooded lands around her village thinned out, and soon she was already further than she had ever been from home. The last of the trees disappeared as the wolf pack streaked out across the open plains before them, nothing but endless grassland to be seen in every direction. Was this the edge of the world, where trees and water and animals stopped existing, and every direction held more of the same nothingness?

The Moon People ran east, never altering their course. Eventually the plains became more uneven, rocky outcroppings breaking up the land as bushes and shrubs began to appear. It was only then that Netya realised she was no longer clinging to her wolf as tightly as she had been back in the woods. Every time she shifted or slipped the beast seemed to respond instinctively, catching her weight and rebalancing it so that she stayed firmly in the middle of its back. Stiff and aching, she finally allowed herself to sit upright. It was still an unnerving feeling to be moving so fast on the back of an animal, but once her fear of falling began to subside she found herself staring in wonder at the ground as it rushed by beneath her, almost enjoying the sensation of speeding through the night faster than she had ever imagined possible.

The injured girl riding up ahead was no longer even holding on to her wolf with her hands. She sat upright with her hair streaming out behind her, straddling her companion with an ease that told Netya she had done this many times before.

Just like the apprehension she had experienced as she approached the wall of skulls earlier that evening, Netya felt as if she was being dragged deeper and deeper into an unknown world full of secrets and danger. Had she been given the opportunity she would likely have turned back and run home, yet some small part of her was almost glad that she had been denied such a choice. She was experiencing things beyond her imagination, things beyond even the oldest and most fanciful tales of her people.

As the hours wore on exhaustion began to take hold, and even Netya's racing thoughts could not keep her eyes open as the rush of adrenaline burned out in her veins and her aching body called for rest. It was impossible for her to sleep as she rode, but she slumped forward over the wolf's back and closed her eyes, warm fur shielding her cheek from the biting wind as she fell into a fitful doze.

In her muddled snatches of wakefulness she saw the surroundings gradually changing. Just as she had suspected, the open land seemed to go on forever, but it was no longer barren and devoid of features. More than once she was jolted back to reality by the splash of cold water soaking into her moccasins as the wolves waded through streams. They climbed hills and descended through valleys, barely pausing for rest. Eventually she saw the silhouettes of trees in the distance, but they were a long way away.

Rosy dawn was making its first greeting to the horizon when the wolves finally stopped, and a pair of human hands gripped Netya beneath the shoulders to ease her off the back of her bearer. In her sleepy daze she heard the murmur of voices nearby, the crackle of fire and the sounds of people awakening. For a moment her fear returned, and with a whimper she struggled in the arms of the man supporting her, but he held on tight until her protests stopped. She was too tired. Her body felt bruised and sore from the long ride, and more than anything she wanted to sleep.

The man lifted her easily in his arms, carrying her somewhere away from the bright fire and the voices of the others. Wherever it was, it was warm. The wind was gone, and a bed of soft furs reached up to embrace her body as the man set her down. Netya welcomed it, and within minutes she had fallen into a deep sleep.

Waking up was a surreal experience. She had slept outside of her mother's house before, but those times had been few and far between. She was used to wooden log walls and the cosy warmth of a nearby fire. The smell of cooking or the sounds of her sisters would awaken her, and she would reluctantly drag herself off her cot to help her mother prepare the morning meal while she waited for the fog of sleep to leave her mind.

This time she awoke to a draft and the glow of evening sunlight shining through the animal hide wall of a tent. She clutched the warm fur beneath her, brow furrowing as she tried to snuggle back into it. Everything felt different. The brightness, the musty smells, the lack of noise. Even the air seemed different in this place. It was only then that Netya remembered where she was.

Her eyes opened, blinking several times as the realisation jolted her awake. Her fingers tightened in the fur, breath quickening. Memories of the long journey rushed back, the wolves, the Moon People...

She sat upright and froze when she saw another person in the tent along with her. It was the girl who had been injured the night before. She sat across from Netya tending the coals of a small fire. In her lap she was preparing what looked like a bowl of food, mixing the contents with a smooth, oval-shaped piece of stone. The girl looked at her curiously, continuing with her work as Netya took in her surroundings. The tent was not large, but it was filled with rustic furnishings. The furs she had slept on were decorated with wooden beads around the edges, stained with shades of red and blue and attached by roughly woven strings of animal hair. Dozens of hide pouches hung from a wooden frame on the other side of the tent, and a stack of bowls, pots, and stones for cooking sat alongside them. There were baskets woven from grass and filled with pieces of smoothed bone and wood ready to be carved into utensils or tools. Someone's clothing, a heavy set of fur and leather garments, lay draped to dry over another wooden rack near the tent's closed flap.

Though Netya was not unused to seeing similar dwellings among her own people, this one seemed yet more functional and basic. The wooden furniture was lashed together from raw branches, not worked skilfully by a craftsman, and even the hides layered to form the walls of the tent were uneven and mismatched, as though they had been stitched together out of necessity rather than by design.

"Where is this?" Netya said at last. It took a moment of silence before she remembered that the Moon People had spoken differently to her. "Do you understand my words?"

"Yes," the girl said. "I know them well. That was why they sent me to tend to you." Her voice still held an unfamiliar cadence that sounded both sweet and strange to Netya's ears, but her language was clear and understandable.

"How? I have never heard of anyone who speaks the way you do," Netya said.

"Our people travel far. It is in our nature. With our wolves' legs we can run for many hours, see people and places a long way away. There are more of your kind far to the north. We learned to speak as they do in the time before I was born."

Netya's curiosity perked. Once again she was reminded of the tickle of excitement she had experienced the night before, that sensation of delving into something unknown. She knew there were more of her people living in their own villages all across the wooded lands she called home, but she had never heard of any who came from the north. In one short night the world had become far larger than it was before.

"But not all of us understand your words," the girl continued. "It is mostly only those of the highest rank. The senior pack members will be able to talk with you, but the others may be uncomfortable." She gave Netya a sympathetic look. "To them, you are one of our enemies. Some of them would have killed you if not for the word of our alpha."

Netya's skin prickled. "I think my people would do the same to one of yours. I do not know why, but they see you as monsters."

"And you don't?"

Netya shook her head. "You frightened me last night, but you do not seem like a monster. Layon would have killed you, but you let him go, and you did not hurt me. I am sorry about what happened."

The girl smiled and turned so that Netya could see her wounded arm. It was wounded no more. Her bronze skin had reddened, and it looked as though she would be left with a scar, but the painful gash was practically healed already.

"I have heard your people are hurt more easily?" the girl said.

Netya gazed in wonder. Either she had slept for days, or the wound had healed overnight. "How did you do that? How do you do any of the things you do?"

"It is just the way we are. I can forgive your friend. He did not hurt me badly."

Netya edged closer to the fire. "Your people must have very powerful magic."

The girl seemed amused. "We would not call it magic. And if it is, even the wisest of us do not understand it. Besides, I think you would know more of such things than I."

"Me?"

"Your hair." The girl moved closer, setting her bowl to the side as she reached out to touch the long black braid that hung over Netya's shoulder. "Only the wisest leaders and seers have hair the colour of yours. It means you were chosen for a great destiny. I think it is why our alpha decided to bring you here."

The idea that she was wise or destined for great things seemed absurd to Netya. She knew several of her people who shared her dark hair, and none of them had ever struck her as particularly great. Still, she did not want to offend these people. If they treated her with respect, even if it was only because of the colour of her hair, it could do her no harm to embrace it. The comments about some of them wanting to kill her were still fresh in her mind.

"Why did he bring me here?" Netya said. "This is your home, isn't it?"

The girl nodded, her eyes sparkling with excitement as the initial tension between the two of them began to ebb. "Our alpha has not taken a female for many years, not even our den mother. He spoke of finding one of your people before, but I never expected it to happen. When he saw you he must have desired you very much, you and your pretty hair."

"As a female?" Netya frowned. "You mean as his woman?"

The girl looked down suddenly, as she had done the night before when the alpha reprimanded her. "He will not take you as his mate. It would not be proper. I can't speak of what he truly desires from you."

"But can you guess?" Netya pried. This was not what she had expected at all. She'd not felt treated like a prisoner, but if not a prisoner, then why had the Moon People taken her with them?

"You must ask him yourself," the girl said, then she glanced to the tent flap and lowered her voice. "But the others say he will take you as his consort. As his concubine. They think he hopes you will give him a strong, dark-haired heir."

A strange twisting sensation grew in Netya's stomach, her heartbeat quickening. She did not know what being a consort to a great leader—or anyone, for that matter—would entail. As a man, and her elder by several months, if Layon had asked her to be his woman she would have been obliged to say yes. Then she would have gone to his bed and lived under his roof, and borne his children if the spirits were kind. It was a future she had often envisioned over the past year, and yet it had been just as fantastical and beyond her comprehension as the legends of the Moon People. The way he had touched and kissed her the night before was the clearest glimpse of that life she had ever gotten. Would it feel the same way to be touched by the alpha?

She called back the image of him from the previous evening, remembering the way his voice had sounded how his long hair stirred in the wind. Something tickled her beneath beneath the knot of anxiety in her belly.

"I would not know how to be his consort," she said at last, her head swimming as she began to feel overwhelmed. She put a palm on the floor to steady herself as she wobbled.

The girl's smile took on a bemused quality. She picked up her wooden bowl again and handed it to Netya along with the smooth mixing stone. "Here, eat. You must be very hungry."

She was. The bowl contained a paste that tasted of mashed nuts, made palatable by a sprinkling of dried berries. There was little flavour to it, but it was not unpleasant. After swallowing down the whole bowlful and drinking from a waterskin the girl offered, Netya began to feel a little better. Her bladder was still full, and the knot in her stomach still remained, but at least she was no longer as giddy.

"Have you been with a man before? Or a woman?" the girl asked once Netya was done eating.

She shook her head.

"Why not? You are old enough. Some girls of my people are mated younger than either of us."

"No man chose me yet. I only came of age a few seasons ago."

"But you should know how to be with a mate when they do choose you. Have you not learned?"

"How would I learn without a mate to teach me?"

The girl crossed her legs and turned to face Netya properly, eyes twinkling once more as she explained. "Every year, during the celebration of the summer fires, our pack come together to share our pleasures for one night. For all those who have come of age, it is a time when we can choose freely who to lie with. Even those who are mated join in, and the ones who are not often find their partners on that night."

"My people have nothing like that," Netya said. The idea intrigued her, even though it sounded wild and bestial, just like all the other tales of the Moon People. Perhaps that was exactly why she found it so compelling.

"Then I think our alpha will show you himself. Many of the young females will be envious."

"Why would he want me over one of them?" Netya said.

The girl's eyes fell, and she bowed her head in that same gesture of deference again. "I cannot speak for him. If you are lucky, he may tell you." She looked back at Netya suddenly, gripping her by the hand. "But do not ask him directly. It would not be proper."

The warning in the girl's eyes unnerved Netya. It was frowned upon for a woman to question her man in public, she knew that much from the customs of her own people, but it made her wonder whether the Moon People had any other expectations of her that she would need to learn. As one of their enemies, and a clear outsider, her fear crystallised her thoughts into something sharper and more practical than she was used to. If she wanted to survive among them, she would have to learn their ways. If their alpha wanted her as his concubine, she was in no position to refuse. If it was as great an honour as the girl had suggested, perhaps she had no reason to feel apprehensive at all.

"And... how long will I stay here?" she said at last.

"For as long as our alpha says you must. He has told the others to treat you as one of our own, but they will be watching closely. You will not try to leave, or hurt any of us, will you?" She added the last sheepishly, as though it was a question asked out of obligation rather than desire.

Netya shook her head. How could she hurt people who transformed into wolves and healed their wounds within hours, even if she wanted to? And the thought of making the journey back across the open plains by herself was even more frightening than staying put.

"What is your name?" the girl asked.

"Netya."

"I am Fern." She smiled. The bright and eager sparkle in the young woman's eyes did much to put Netya's fears to rest. Aside from the tone of her skin and the sound of her voice, she could almost have been a girl from back in the village.

"Come," Fern said. "I will show you where you can wash, and then he will want to see you."

"The alpha?"

"Yes."

Netya shielded her eyes from the sun as the girl lifted the flap of the tent and led her outside. She prayed to the spirits that the alpha would be as welcoming as Fern.

—4—

A New World

The place the Moon People called home was not quite a village, not quite a camp. Could it be called a den? Tents of various shapes and sizes were nestled between the rocks, none of them looking as though they had been made with any particular design in mind. Some were tall and propped up by crisscrosses of long poles, others were short and squat, and some were little more than lean-tos beneath which the Moon People lounged in the evening sun. Others had built earth lodges not dissimilar to some of the dwellings in Netya's own village, but there was not a single house of logs to be seen.

The whole encampment was set atop a raised outcropping that overlooked the land for miles around. It was roughly the size of a small hill, and farther up the slope more and more rocks broke through the surface of the earth until a large stone peak capped it off, a natural monument that Netya suspected looked quite beautiful from afar. Among the rocks higher up, she could see wide crags that she suspected led to caves. If the Moon People had not made their home here, packs of wild animals surely would have. It seemed more than fitting.

Fern led her around the edge of the raised outcrop, avoiding most of the tents. A large fire burned midway down the slope in an area surrounded by a cluster of tents, and it was from there that a mixture of strange voices reached Netya's ears, all speaking in the tongue of the Moon People.

The land stretched away for miles around them. It gave Netya the same giddy feeling she'd gotten every time she looked out from the edge of the forest over the plains beyond, except this time there was no promise of safety at her back. The home of the Moon People was an island amidst a sea of endless land. To the south and west the ground finally gave way to mountains, so far away they seemed unreachable. In the north she could glimpse a few trees on the horizon, but the easterly direction from which they'd come held nothing but the sight of rolling hills and open grassland. Itdidn't know that back was almost as if the place she'd come from had been swallowed up by the horizon entirely.

Netya could have stared at the new world around her for hours, but her fascination was interrupted by the looks and voices of the people around her. While Fern did her best to take a quiet route, they still passed by a handful of dwellings on their way. The huge, brown-furred bodies of wolves slumbered outside some of them, but more often than not they were accompanied by people tending their cooking fires as they prepared their evening meals. All of them shared the same bronzed skin, their hair coming in sandy blondes and browns, often braided and hung with beads or talismans carved from wood and animal bone.

The Moon People stared at Netya unashamedly as she walked past. She had never before felt so interesting, or so different. The colour of her hair and skin, things that had just a day ago seemed no more special than the grass and the sky, were suddenly all she could think about.

In the rare moments she chanced to lock eyes with one of the Moon People she found herself looking for signs of fear or hatred. She was, after all, their enemy.

Most regarded her with obvious discomfort, but rarely did she feel threatened. Any animosity they might have felt for her seemed restrained by a veneer of courtesy. It was far from reassuring, but some of the tension in her stomach loosened. She had been expecting snarling wolves and bared fangs, but these people were no monsters.

It only took a few minutes for Fern to lead her around the edge and down the side of the outcropping, back to ground level where the sprawling sights of the land around them were hidden by the natural slopes and hillocks in the terrain. A clear, slow-moving river trickled its way around the edge of the encampment. Further up Netya could see a small group of people bathing. Their laughing voices reminded her, with a tug of homesickness, of her own summer evenings spent bathing with the other girls of the village.

Fern knelt down and dabbled her hands in the water, gesturing for Netya to join her.

"Come down to this end of the river when you need to relieve yourself. For washing and bathing we usually stay further up." She waited patiently for a moment, but when Netya didn't join her she rose to her feet and began to help the other girl off with her clothing without being asked.

"You should make yourself clean and beautiful for our alpha. He will appreciate that," Fern continued. "If you leave me your clothes I will wash them and find fresh ones while you bathe."

Netya nodded, allowing Fern to unfasten the wooden pins that held her fur wrap in place, before bending down to do the same for her insulating leggings. The evening was warm, and she was glad to feel cool air against her skin as she untied her girdle and slid out of the woolen shirt and undergarments she wore, finally stepping out of her boots to stand naked on the riverbank.

Fern guided her into the gently flowing water, before bundling up the pile of clothes and tucking them beneath her arm. She left Netya alone then, giving her time to see to her private needs and wash.

Even though they had only just met, Fern's absence brought an uncomfortable feeling of tension to the tranquil river. Netya's eyes flitted back to the group bathing upstream. She glanced at the rocky path she had come down, wondering whether anyone else would chance upon her while she was alone. It was unusual for her to be among so many people and yet feel so threatened. Perhaps threatened was the wrong word. They had treated her well enough so far. It was just that they were different, and different things were hard to understand. It was easy to assume the worst.

And yet, despite all of that, the sense of wonder she'd felt when riding on the back of the wolf and staring out across the foreign landscape still remained. She was in a new place. A new land with new people. Back in the village such possibilities had simply never existed.

Netya leaned back in the cool water, floating for a moment while she unfastened the wooden clasp from her braid as it lay across her breast. She untwined her hair and dipped her head below the water, closing her eyes as she floated to the surface and drifted on her back.

The consort of a powerful leader.

Back home Netya's uncle spoke for the village when there was no consensus to be reached, but he was an old man, impatient and endlessly perplexed by his duties. Nobody bowed their head in deference to him. Nobody spoke of him in hushed tones, with the kind of respect that only power and dominance could command.

A shiver rippled through her body. Was she foolish not to fear the alpha? Of what he would do with her, perhaps that very evening, when he desired to claim her as his concubine? A familiar tickle of warmth returned to her belly as she thought of him. She was afraid, yes, but her fear was not enough to overpower the possibilities opening up before her. Her future, that had once seemed so orderly, was now a burning tangle of people and places and emotions that seemed so endless it made her giddy. The part of her that had always wanted to go and see the wolf skulls on the wall felt like it was finally free.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of someone approaching, and she jolted upright with a splash. It was only Fern, returning with a bundle of fresh clothes and a reassuring smile. Netya relaxed and allowed herself to sink back into the water again, but the other girl's presence spurred her to continue washing and brushing the dirt from her hair. She did not feel as though she had earned the right to indulge herself yet.

Once she had bathed Fern helped her out of the river and handed her a woven blanket to dry herself with. It was rougher than the soft wool she was used to. As Netya sat on a rock drying herself off, Fern knelt behind her and brushed the tangles from her hair with a comb made from fine animal teeth.

"What happens next?" Netya asked.

"We'll let your hair dry by the fire, then make sure you are as beautiful as we can make you. Once the sun goes down, the alpha should be ready for you."

"Will he want me right away?"

"I don't know." Fern squeezed her shoulder. "Try not to be worried. It may be difficult the first time, but soon you will enjoy it. Sharing pleasures with another person is a wonderful thing."

Once Netya was dry she dressed in her new clothes. They seemed tailored for comfort rather than work, and were not practical for everyday wear. A soft animal skin gown came down to her thighs, leaving her arms and most of her legs exposed. With no undergarments she felt only half-dressed, but the gown was comfortable and fit her quite well. She tucked her clasp back into her hair and put on the pair of fur slippers Fern had brought her, then followed the other girl back up the path between the rocks.

Most of the people they had passed on their way down seemed to have retreated inside their tents or migrated to the central fire as the sun dipped beyond the horizon. Their muted voices and laughter filled the air, and Netya found herself thinking of home again. Was this place her home now? For the time being, it seemed it was.

She caught herself staring at the flames of the large fire as they licked up into the darkening sky, so enthralled that she didn't notice she was about to walk into someone until Fern put out a hand to stop her. She looked forward, and almost jumped in surprise as she stared up at a figure so striking they took her breath away.

Before her stood a woman as tall as any man, with skin the colour of ivory and a mane of raven black hair flowing from beneath a headdress made from the full pelt of a fox. Her eyes were as blue as the clearest crystal lake, and she had painted them with charcoal to make her appearance even more powerful. She was by far the most beautiful woman Netya had ever seen.

But her eyes, as striking as they were, did not sparkle like Fern's. They pierced Netya with a look so cold it paralysed her. The woman's elegant lips looked as though a smile might break them.

Fern immediately bowed her head, muttering something in the language of the Moon People. The older woman stared at Netya for a moment longer, before turning to Fern and responding with a comment that sounded as frightening as her expression.

Fern shook her head, looking in the direction of the caves above them agitatedly as she mumbled out a response.

The woman glared at her, not saying a word, then turned her attention back to Netya and took a step forward, lifting a lock of damp hair from her shoulder to examine it.

"You do not belong here," she said at last in Netya's language, then added something else in her own tongue before turning away.

Netya shivered as she watched the woman walk up the slope and disappear into one of the highest caves, a huge crag in the rock decorated with animal skulls and painted with strange markings.

"She is Adel, our den mother," Fern whispered without needing to be asked. "The senior female of our pack, second only to the alpha. You must always obey if she asks something of you, and when she speaks, you must listen. She is the wisest of our seers, and she knows the ways of the spirits better than anyone."

"She frightens me."

"I think she would frighten anyone, even the spirits themselves," Fern said, then her tone lightened, and she tugged Netya back in the direction of the tent. "But she keeps to herself most of the time. Her cave is a forbidden place for anyone but her and her seers to enter. Even the alpha stays away."

"I don't think she liked me."

Fern looked as if she was about to say something, but this time she stopped before her tongue ran away with her, biting her lip at the last second. "Come, before the fire burns down."

They returned to the tent, watching the last light of sunset fade from the sky as Netya sat with her back to the fire. Once her hair had dried Fern ran the comb through it once more, then began to braid it back into a plait. As they sat together Netya decided to ask one of the many questions that had been on her mind since the previous evening.

"Why do your people come to attack mine? From all the stories we tell I would have thought you were vicious and barbaric, but you have been very kind to me."

"We were not coming to attack you. If you had not been there there would have been no fighting."

"But our people have fought in the past, haven't they?"

Fern sighed. The topic clearly wasn't one she was comfortable discussing. "These are not questions for someone like me. You should be saving them for the alpha. He is the one who makes the decisions to venture into your lands."

"Still, I would like to hear what you know." She turned and gave the other girl a smile. "I am very grateful for everything you've done for me today. I would have been lost, and a lot more frightened without someone to treat me so well."

That seemed to coax Fern out of her shell. She was eager to talk, but her sense of duty was clearly a weight on her mind, if the way she had behaved in the presence of Adel and the alpha was anything to go by.

"The hunting has been bad recently," Fern said. "Usually this season is a time of plenty, so we have no reason to store supplies. But there has been disease in the animals we usually hunt on the plains, and the ones we do catch have not been good for eating. We came to your home because you keep animals there. We planned to take some and leave, but your friend called out too soon. There would have been no time to gather what we needed before more of your people arrived."

"Do you not keep animals of your own? My people learned long ago that it was better to raise young animals somewhere close by than to rely on hunting them in the wild."

"Our people live for the hunt," Fern said. "We keep some birds, but that is all. Most of us become hunters once we are of age. Each successful hunt is a mark of great status and respect for those who take part, especially the men. We would lose much without the hunt."

"I see," Netya said, and a grim thought suddenly occurred to her as she remembered how the men of her village boasted and told grand tales of the wolf skulls they took from the Moon People. Were animals the only things Fern's people hunted in the name of glory?

"There!" Fern said as she fastened the braid in place. "Now you look beautiful. A mate fit for an alpha."

Netya flushed. She did not feel particularly beautiful with a woman like Adel in the camp, but the compliment was nice to hear all the same.

There seemed little left for them to do but wait at that point. Netya's inevitable meeting with the alpha loomed larger than ever after everything she'd learned that evening, and without Fern's company she might have driven herself to distraction with worry. Instead she occupied her thoughts by talking with the other girl, exchanging small stories about life, coming of age, their families, and other everyday things that kept her attention off what might soon become one of the most significant nights of her life.

As preoccupied as she was, she did get a sense from Fern's conversation that the Moon People did not divide themselves clearly into families. Bonds of direct kinship still existed, but the pack viewed all of its members as brothers and sisters to one another. Had she been paying closer attention she might have learned more about the lives of the Moon People, but as the minutes passed by her gaze kept returning time and again to the tent's open flap. The evening chill was beginning to seep in, and soon she couldn't tell whether the trembling of her body was due to the cold or her mounting anxiety.

At last, after an hour or more had slipped by, a middle-aged woman appeared from between the rocks and bent down to peer in at them. Her curious gaze lingered on Netya, then she smiled a toothy grin and spoke a few words to Fern, who bobbed her head in acknowledgement.

"Come," she said softly. "It's time."

—5—

The Alpha

It was at the entrance to the largest cave at the highest point of the outcrop that Fern left her.

"Only those who are invited can enter," she said. "Remember, this is a great honour, especially for one of your people." She gave Netya's hand a squeeze before stepping back.

Swallowing her fear, the dark-haired girl took a steadying breath, and crept forward into the alpha's den.

The cave wall was smooth beneath her fingers as she put out a palm to guide herself around the corner. Warm darkness reached out to greet her until she could barely see her own arm, feeling her way down the passage as her heart beat faster. She was stepping into yet another new mystery all over again, leaving the comforting familiarity of Fern behind her as she descended into the heart of the rock.

The passage only went on for a few yards, but her cautious steps made it seem much longer. The cavern floor gave way to the rough texture of woven mats, and she jumped as her fingers brushed a hanging drape in front of her. When she lifted it aside, she emerged into the alpha's chamber.

It was perhaps the most grand room she had ever set eyes on, and yet it was more primitive than half the dwellings in her own village. A fire pit glowed with orange coals in the centre, and all along the walls stone lamps occupied natural crags and sconces to bathe the chamber in soft, shadowy light. The only carpented piece of furniture she had seen so far occupied the far corner of the room, a raised platform of wooden logs upon which sat a large bed piled high with furs. On the other side of the cave a pool of water stirred gently in a second, smaller natural chamber, trickling gently down some unseen channel, presumably to join the river below. A smoothed portion of a tree trunk, bigger than any Netya had ever seen, stood in for a table, with smaller logs on either side for seats. Like Fern's bedding, it was decorated with a lavish animal skin cover, painted and embroidered with trinkets around the edges. The walls were hung with so many trophies, hides, tusks, and bones of animals Netya have never even seen before, that she almost lost herself staring at them as she turned to take in the full magnificent range of decorations adorning the room.

"Has Fern made you welcome?" The deep voice of the alpha reached her ears. He was seated across the room from her, half in shadow, upon what Netya could only describe as a throne. It was adorned with the full pelt of a bear, enormous and snarling, its jaws hanging inches above the alpha's own head.

"Yes," she said, her voice sounding very quiet compared to his. "She has treated me well."

The alpha rose to his feet and stepped into the light, his broad frame looming even larger than the pelt of the bear behind him. He was dressed as he had been the evening before, bare-chested with a kilt of furs.

"Good. You are to be treated as one of our own while you are here, for however long that may be. If any of my pack mistreat you, they will be punished."

"I am thankful," Netya said, edging a little farther into the room. "Am I not to be your prisoner, then?"

"You are here by my will, not your own. But whether that remains true, we shall have to see."

Netya frowned at the cryptic answer, then forced herself to ask the question that had been drumming in her mind for the past hour. "Then why did you choose to bring me here?"

The alpha approached her, his eyes taking in her body without a hint of reserve. He took her by the lower arm, running his free hand over her pale skin from the inside of her elbow to the palm of her hand. The touch of his rough fingers against the sensitive area made her shiver, and as her heart jolted in her chest her lower body began to tingle with warmth.

"Perhaps Fern has told you. I have no mate, and so I have no heir. I will take you as my consort." His eyes met hers, and in them she saw an unspoken question, a silent expectancy as he waited to gauge her response.

Her breath shuddered as she inhaled deeply. "Why not one of your own people?"

The alpha smiled at that. "None of my pack would dare to ask me such a question."

"I'm sorry—"

"But you are not of my pack," he continued. "And that is why, when I saw you at our mercy last night, I chose to bring you with us."

"I don't think I am suited to be the consort of a great leader," she said. "What about the den mother? She is far more beautiful than I."

The alpha's expression hardened. "Do not speak to me of Adel," he said firmly. "I have no need of hearing her name voiced in here."

Netya almost wilted under his fierce gaze, but she forced herself not to look away. Perhaps bravery was foolishness, but the stirring pulse of her blood prevented her from giving in to fear. She was walking the tightrope of her curiosity into the unknown, where she had dared to venture with Layon the night before, and secretly longed to explore more of. The allure of danger was too tempting.

"You are young," the alpha said as he reached over her shoulder to admire her braid. "How many times have you lain with a man?"

"Never."

The alpha nodded. "You will come to my bed tonight. No other male will be permitted to claim you."

Netya's skin warmed. The subtle scent of his body reminded her of fur and salt water. "I do not know how to be with a man," she said.

"Your body will know the pleasures of a woman. You will learn to listen to it, and then you will know what to do." He placed his hand at the nape of her neck and shoulder, allowing his fingers to rest across her throat, then drew them slowly downwards, caressing her skin until they slipped into the cleft between her breasts. Another sensitive ripple ran through Netya's body, and the tug in her lower belly seemed to urge her toward him.

"Do you feel it?" he said.

She nodded shakily.

"Then I was not wrong in choosing you. What is your name?"

"Netya."

"Netya. Are you unwilling to be my consort?"

She hesitated, unsure of what to say, or even think. She was anxious. Perhaps even afraid. But unwilling? She had no desire to flee or plead her fate. She wanted to understand the things her body seemed to be telling her. The alpha's appearance and scent and powerful voice awakened all the feelings she had begun to notice in herself since becoming a woman, and for once she had the opportunity to explore them.

"A man who takes an unwilling female to his bed is no man at all," the alpha said when she did not respond.

"I am not... unwilling, no," she whispered, the words catching in her throat.

"Good." The alpha moved his hand back up her neck, sliding his fingers through the hair at the base of her braid.

It was strange for her to be so close to an unfamiliar man, to have him touching her in this way. It was not like being touched by anyone else. His hands slid over her body as if she were an immaculately crafted ornament, seeking out the fine details to make them more real through his touch. He tilted her head back and pulled her in with an arm around her waist, bringing his lips to hers for a kiss.

Netya expected the same soft warmth she remembered from Layon's kiss, closing her eyes and opening her mouth gently to savour the soft feeling of the alpha's mouth against her own. Instead of giving her gentle pleasure, he took her breath away.

The alpha's firm grip tightened around her hips, the hand on the back of her head steadying her as he kissed her hard and deep, his tongue plunging into her mouth and curling around hers, bearing down with passion and power. Netya's whole body tightened as she found herself crushed against his broad chest, putting up her hands to steady herself and finding only his muscular body to cling to. A low whimper sounded in the back of her throat, and she reeled with a heady rush of desire as the alpha's lips continued to work against hers, like a wolf devouring his prey.

She let herself go limp in his grasp, her trembling hands resting against his chest, but not making any attempt to push him away. The heat in her belly burned hotter than she had ever felt it before, the sensation spreading like an itch until she was pressing up against him without any need for encouragement. The feeling kept on building, going further and further beyond the brief glimpse she'd caught with Layon. It would have startled her had she not been so caught up in the moment.

Finally the alpha broke the kiss, leaving Netya's mouth full of his taste and her chest heaving as she gasped for air. She had never before experienced something so intense, and yet the alpha seemed barely fazed by it. His breathing was steady, his grip just as firm, and his brow was free of the perspiration that had begun to bead on Netya's skin.

He spoke to her again, his voice a smooth murmur, like the sound of thunder in the distance. "There will be pain at first, but afterwards comes pleasure."

Netya swallowed, the tightness in her stomach returning. "How much pain?"

"Every female is different. Perhaps much, perhaps little." He looked at her curiously, but he made no question of whether she still wanted to continue. He read the language of her body, bending down to lift her into his arms with ease.

Netya inhaled sharply, her hands finding their way to his body again as she clung to his neck for support, allowing him to carry her to the high bed and lay her down on the furs. The soft texture tickled her bare skin, and without being prompted she kicked off her slippers to savour the sensation of the fur running between her toes, satisfying the tingles that rippled across her body.

The alpha stepped out of his boots and unfastened his kilt, allowing it to drop to the wooden planks with a heavy thud as he freed himself from its confines. Netya's eyes were drawn to his thick manhood, swelling with expectancy between his legs as he swung himself on to the bed and propped her up against the mound of furs. Before the warmth of his kiss could fade too far he was on her again, this time sliding his hand up her bare thigh and beneath the bottom of her gown, caressing slowly and steadily until she lifted her arms and allowed him to pull the garment free of her body.

She lay there naked before him, her chest rising with quick breaths as he caressed her. His hands explored all the places a man had never touched before, the broad, rough strokes of his fingertips massaging her hips, her thighs, her stomach, her breasts. She was still shaking. Her body was unable to contain the fire building within it, and she longed to feel it released.

"Do not be impatient," the alpha's voice rumbled in her ear. "Impatience will only take away from the pleasure."

Netya nodded and tried to relax, but it was an impossible task with the alpha's hands on her and his heavy breath tickling against her neck. His swollen shaft pressed against her thigh, each firm twitch revealing the strength of the alpha's own desire. She longed for it in a way she had never longed for anything else. It was as if good sense had abandoned her, and all that mattered was the world inside the alpha's den. She found herself longing to touch him in the way he touched her, but in her anxiety all she could do was clutch at the furs, her body tensing and easing like a supple branch being bent by the wind.

Eventually the alpha's palm was drawn toward the heat in her lower belly, massaging the sensitive area and working lower until his fingers brushed the folds between her legs. Her body coiled with tension all over again, a spike of sensitivity gripping her muscles as he explored that tender area. Another deep kiss distracted her long enough for the alpha to work deeper, parting her entrance and opening it for him, freeing the slick moisture that spilled from her body and coated her folds. A cry left her lips as he drew his fingers over the sensitive bead at the hood of her sex, working it gently, then harder, until the dam within her broke and her eyes widened with shock as a surge of intensity unlike anything she had ever felt rushed through her. Her head swam, a squeal ringing in her ears that she did not recall voicing as she writhed and contorted against the furs, unable to breathe as the flood of pleasure spilled from within her.

Netya lay there in a haze, feeling the alpha's lips on hers once more as she trembled in his grasp, slowly receding from her peak until her body had calmed and the burn had dimmed to a steady smoulder. Much of the tension had finally eased from her muscles, and the alpha moved to position himself over her, parting her legs with his thighs so that his shaft rested against her stomach, palms on either side of her head as he looked down at her. She was still anxious, as anxious as any woman pinned beneath the broad frame of such a man, trapped within the grasp of the male about to claim her. She had never felt so vulnerable, and yet had never longed to give in to that vulnerability so fully. To expose that most sensitive part of herself to something wild and rugged, like a leaf dragged into a churning whirlwind. She was even ready for the discomfort it might bring.

The alpha guided himself to her entrance, spreading her outer folds wider than his fingers had taken them as he pressed the tip of his manhood inside her. Immediately she felt the tug, the tension of being opened in a way that would leave her changed, pulled into full womanhood by her joining with this man. She sucked in a breath, gripping the furs tighter. The alpha paused and placed a hand on her shoulder, simultaneously holding her in place and urging her to relax.

"Do not fight your body," he said. "Allow the pain to come, and allow it to leave."

Netya tried, her heart pounding as he slid in deeper, meeting a barrier inside her that seemed unwilling to give. He waited, kissing her, allowing the burn to leave her tender walls as they grew accustomed to his size. When he pushed again Netya whimpered with pain as the barrier gave way, and he slid in so far she could almost feel him brushing the hot centre of her pleasure deep within her belly. This time he waited longer, tending her desire with more kisses and the attention of his hands on her naked skin, making sure the discomfort did not overwhelm her desire as he remained buried between her folds, allowing her to slowly adjust to the new opening of her body.

The pain did not go away entirely, but it ebbed into a deep soreness that joined the heat between Netya's legs until she felt ready for more. Sensing that she had relaxed, the alpha withdrew himself, pushing steadily back and forth, slowly working her tender walls until his firm hips were pressed up against her thighs.

"Now you are ready for me to take you," the alpha whispered into her ear, his own desire breaking through the surface as his chest heaved. "As I will take you many more times in the days to come, for as long as you remain my concubine."

Netya's eyelids fluttered, his words bringing on an unexpected surge of pleasure as he bore down on her, working his hips harder, faster, stirring the painful, delicious burn between her legs into another wave that threatened to break through the dam.

His strength was so great that she feared she might break, her smaller frame rocking beneath his as he took her with all the strength and ferocity of the wolf within him. He tugged her body into an arch with a hand against her lower back, pressing her belly to his toned stomach and her soft breasts to his chest. She put her arms around his neck to hold on, though his iron grip needed no support. He rocked her hips against his, panting with desire, dragging her into kiss after kiss as his hungry mouth explored her neck and lips, tasting the salt of her perspiration and marking her with his scent as their slick bodies pressed together.

Within minutes Netya felt faint, every moment a mess of sensations so raw and so powerful that all she could do was moan and whimper, clinging to the alpha as he slaked his lust. A second rush of pleasure hit her even harder than the first, knocking the air from her lungs as she squealed and convulsed in the alpha's grasp, spurred on by his thrusts until he pushed the peak of her climax beyond what she was able to endure. Her thoughts pulled themselves apart as hot white pleasure burned into her mind, her vision tunnelling as the wave overwhelmed her and dragged her under.

Darkness only stole the world away for an instant, but when she opened her eyes she was lying on her back, the alpha breathing heavily as he rested on top of her. His jaw tightened in the last clutches of his own release, then he braced himself on an elbow and eased his weight off her chest.

Netya groaned as he withdrew from her, raw and aching now that the glow of pleasure had begun to fade. The alpha lay alongside her as he caught his breath, resting his hand against her breast to feel the heavy throb of her heartbeat.

"Breathe. Let the pain come, and let it go."

Despite hurting, Netya's body was aglow with more than just the discomfort of being taken by her first man. She gazed up at the cavern roof, glimpsing the twinkle of stars through one of several narrow gaps in the rocks. What she had just experienced went beyond everything she'd imagined. And perhaps it was only in coming here, being taken by the Moon People, being claimed by their alpha, that had allowed her to feel every moment so vividly. It was the unknown, the anxiety, the anticipation, the danger, that had built up to such an incredible crescendo. She had been torn away from everything familiar to her, from a world that was simple and ordered and predictable, and thrown headlong into everything that had once tantalised her just out of reach.

Though she had been of age for almost a year now, it was only in that moment, in the stirring glow of fractured emotions that surrounded her in the alpha's bed, that she truly began to feel like a woman.

"Netya?" The alpha tilted her face toward him, another question in his eyes.

She took a deep breath and nodded. "I felt everything you described. I am thankful you showed me, Alpha."

"My name is Khelt. Sleep here tonight. You will find these furs warmer than those in Fern's tent." He lay back and dragged one of the heavy animal skins over to cover her, before closing his eyes with a satisfied sigh.

Netya watched him for a long time, wondering what kind of man he was, what kind of a leader he made for his people. Though her body was tired and in need of mending, she could not sleep. She relived their lovemaking over and over again in her head, not quite believing that she was now fully a woman. She knew things now that had been a mystery to her just hours before. Even her soreness couldn't distract her from the glowing feeling of fulfilment that returned every time she thought back to the way Khelt had claimed her.

It was only much later, after she lay awake for an hour or more, that her thoughts turned to home, and the familiar bed that now lay empty in her house. Where did Layon think she was now? Her mother and sisters? Her brow creased as the painful thoughts threatened to steal away her elation. She curled her knees up to her chest, staring at the coals of the fire. Despite the heavy fur wrapped around her, she still felt cold.

Khelt murmured in his sleep and rolled over, his hand encircling her waist and tugging her in against his warm body. Netya's thoughts of home drifted away as she was reminded again of his touch. She let the unwelcome worries slip away as she sank back into his embrace, remembering that she was not a simple village girl any more. She closed her eyes and finally felt the fingers of sleep reach for her.

She was consort to the alpha now.

—6—

The Desires of a Woman

Netya was roused by the sound of voices within the den.

She ached terribly, the soreness between her legs just as bad as it had been when she went to sleep, but the memory of what had caused it brought a smile to her lips.

Daylight filtered down through the openings in the roof of the cave, just enough to add some brightness to the dim chamber. She peeked out from beneath the heavy fur that lay over her and saw Khelt standing near the entrance as he conversed with two other men. He was dressed again in his kilt and boots, and his freshly washed hair dripped down his back, the long black locks giving him a distinctly different look now that he stood alongside his fellow pack members.

She remained still, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she watched, pretending to still be asleep. The idea of meeting more of the Moon People, especially in her naked and vulnerable state, still intimidated her.

One of the men Khelt was speaking to seemed to be recounting something, while the other, taller man listened in silence with his arms folded. It was to this second man that her gaze was immediately drawn once her eyes had grown accustomed to the light. He was strikingly handsome, tall and well built like Khelt, with facial hair that had been trimmed neatly short and a mane of brown hair to match. He wore the same collection of animal furs as the rest of the Moon People, but his outfit seemed less rugged somehow. The leather girdle around his waist in particular was ornamented with a wooden clasp that had been carved into a beautifully detailed impression of a wolf's head, clearly the work of a skilled craftsman.

The conversation continued for a short while, and Khelt seemed to be growing impatient. When the taller man finally spoke it was in gentle tones as he interceded between the other two. His companion immediately objected, but Khelt raised a hand to silence him, then led his quieter, more reasonable guest over to the table. When they spoke again, it was in Netya's language. Whatever they were saying was clearly not intended for the ears of the other man, who wore a grimace and a blank look while he waited for them to finish.

"He is not right, but he's only voicing what half the pack are thinking, Khelt," the newcomer said, glancing in the direction of the bed. "You shouldn't have taken her."

"They took Cera from us. I saw her skull there next to the others. Now I have taken one of theirs in return."

"We don't have to be like them."

"Would you rather I killed the girl?"

"Perhaps you should have let them think you did. A death can be mourned, but how can they mourn if they know she is still alive, and with their enemies?"

"They would not have the courage to come looking for her."

"And what if she has a mate of her own? Men can do foolish things in the name of love." The newcomer spoke steadily, and without the emotion of his companion. He was not trying to argue with Khelt, Netya realised.

"She does not. No man had laid claim to her."

"Good. But did you consider that before you took her?"

Khelt rubbed his forehead and sighed. "You cannot always be there to be my good conscience, Caspian."

The other man smiled. "If you have finally decided to take a female, I will not question your choice. Just know that this one has brought more danger than most, and the pack would have preferred to see you return with fresh kill instead of a consort from among our enemies."

Khelt nodded, pondering for a moment. "One way or another, we have reminded her people that they should fear us. What's done is done. I cannot change my decision now."

"Nor would I want you to, but we must be ready for the worst." Caspian inclined his head in Netya's direction. "And make sure the girl does not cause problems within the pack. Adel has already—"

"Let the witch think what she wants. I am alpha, not her." Khelt glanced at the man still waiting by the door and slipped back into his own language. Netya recognised her name being said, and some of the words almost seemed close enough to her language to make sense, but the direction of the conversation quickly lost her, and she waited patiently until the men were done speaking. Khelt threw a fur cloak over his shoulders and made to leave with the others, but just as they were about to depart he caught Caspian's arm and murmured something to him, nodding toward the bed.

Caspian said a word of agreement and remained in the den while the other two left. Netya bit her lip anxiously, already unnerved by the lack of a familiar presence.

"When you are ready you may wash in the pool," he said, picking up Netya's gown from where it had fallen beside the bed and laying it next to her. "Once you've stopped being asleep, of course."

Her cheeks warmed. She thought she'd been well hidden beneath the fur.

Caspian turned his back to her and gathered cooking supplies from the alcove behind Khelt's throne, before filling a clay pot from the gently trickling pool and resting it in the coals of the fire to heat. He paid her no more attention after that, focused on the task at hand rather than the strange girl curled up in the alpha's bed.

Netya waited a few minutes before plucking up the courage to rise from the furs and gather up her gown. Still Caspian paid her no attention, though whether it was out of respect or indifference she couldn't tell. Rather than trying to engage him in conversation she slipped out of bed and hurried over to the other side of the den, where the smaller cave with the pool hid her from view.

The water was cold, but it seemed fresh and clean, and Netya was glad for the opportunity to wash herself before dressing. Crouching in the waist-deep water, she reached down tentatively to explore the aching space between her legs. Only then did she realise that she had bled the previous night, and once again she vividly recalled the pain of Khelt's entry, and the pleasure that had then followed.

She bathed the scent of the alpha and the traces of his lovemaking from her body, then realised that she had nothing to dry herself with. She stood awkwardly at the edge of the pool, wondering whether Caspian's back was still turned. Bathing in the presence of other girls was as natural to her as being naked by herself, but the men and women of her people did not often reveal their bodies to one another out in the open. She brushed the droplets from her shivering body and waited for her skin to dry a little before throwing her gown over her head, wishing that she had something more practical to wear now that she was no longer dressing to entice the alpha.

Caspian was stewing fruit in the cooking pot when she stepped back into the den, sprinkling in more of the nut meal that Fern had served her the evening prior. Netya crept over to the fire and sat down, warming her wet feet by the coals as she shivered. Caspian carved a slice of apple with the flint knife he was using and popped it into his mouth, before handing a second piece to Netya.

"I thought your people would eat more meat," she said after a moment of silence had passed.

"Hunting has been bad. Even the alpha eats poorly when there is little to go around."

"I heard you giving advice to him. Do you help lead your people too?"

Caspian paused his chewing and looked at her for the first time. "Only the alpha leads our people, and I am not him."

"But he seems to listen to you."

Caspian smiled. "He does. Perhaps he finds value in some of the things I say. But the decisions are his to make."

"Is my being here going to cause problems?"

"Yes," he said plainly, "at first. Whether those problems are small enough to be forgotten in a day, or large enough to last for weeks, is up to you."

"You said you were worried my people would come looking for me?"

He lifted the steaming pot out of the fire with a pair of sticks. "Will they?"

"I don't know," Netya admitted.

"Then we should both hope the Sun People keep to their forest."

"Is that what you call us?"

"Of course. Is it so strange to hear?" he said as he scooped the mix of meal and fruit on to a flat stone and handed it to Netya. She accepted it gratefully.

"I suppose not."

"Fear is not the best way to keep the peace," Caspian said. "But sometimes it is the only way we have."

"What do you mean?" Netya said in between mouthfuls as she scooped the food up with her fingers.

Caspian murmured something in his own language and shook his head, tossing more wood on the fire now that he was done cooking. "Nevermind. I catch myself discussing the business of men with the females far too often. Worry about showing the pack that you are one of them, and let Khelt deal with the consequences of bringing you here."

The back of Netya's neck tingled with unease. She did not want to be responsible for putting anyone in danger, but she was forced to accept it. As Caspian had said, leadership was the business of men. Her duties to the Moon People had been fulfilled the previous evening in Khelt's bed. It was clearly not her place to concern herself with anything more.

"How do I show your pack I am one of them?" she asked, turning her thoughts to more immediate matters.

"Obey those of greater status than you. The seers, the hunters, the mothers. You have the alpha's blessing, but you are still an outsider, and you have no rank among our pack. Speak plainly, be obedient, and listen to those who offer you advice. Once they see you are no threat to them, they will quickly forget about you."

Netya nodded as she ate. It was simple and practical advice. There was much she had to learn about the Moon People and their ways, and she was eager to discover it. Unlike Fern, Caspian did not seem one to talk much, and they passed the rest of the meal without speaking further.

The sun had already risen half way by the time Netya stepped out of the cave. She had wondered where she would be staying from now on, but Caspian made it clear that nobody, not even her, was allowed to remain in the alpha's den without his permission. Even those of the highest status were only welcome via invitation, and most of the pack had never even glimpsed the inside of Khelt's private chamber.

For a short while she wondered whether Caspian was to be her companion for the day, but as soon as they were outside he left her on her own and strode off to attend to his own business.

The entrance of the alpha's cave was in sight of almost every dwelling on the slope below, and a waving hand quickly caught her attention. Fern was climbing to her feet from outside her tent, and she hurried up to greet Netya. When the other girl emerged from between the rocks it was with a grin on her face, and she took Netya by the hands immediately.

"Well?" she asked. "What was it like?"

It didn't take much thought to guess what she was talking about.

"It was very..." Netya paused as she searched for the words, feeling an unbidden smile spreading across her lips.

Fern giggled. "It's like nothing else in the world, isn't it? I felt the same my first time."

"I was afraid, but it made me feel like a woman. A real woman. I think I would want to do it again, even if it still hurt."

"The pain will not be as bad, and soon it will be gone completely. Are you still feeling it?"

Netya nodded. "A little."

"Come, I will fetch you something to sooth it. And I have washed your clothes, they will be dry by now."

"Thank you." Netya held on to Fern's hand as she led her down the slope to her tent. It was a great easing of the emotions inside her to be able to share them with another woman. Better still, she hoped, a new friend.

"What kind of a lover was he?" Fern asked in an excited whisper as she sat her down outside the tent and began to boil a bowl of water to make tea.

Netya swallowed, running her tongue across the inside of her teeth as her breath quickened at just the thought of Khelt's muscular body pressed up against hers. "He was firm. Very strong. Heavy. I am not sure. Are other men different?"

Fern let out a wistful sigh. "Oh yes. Poor Netya, you are spoiled for men now. The rest of us only get the chance to lie with an alpha in our dreams!"

Netya pressed a hand to her mouth to contain a titter. "I suppose it is difficult to think of many other men I would want as much as him."

Fern gave her a coy look. "I can think of one."

Netya's brow furrowed in confusion, before following her companion's gaze over her shoulder. On the other side of the slope, just visible between the rocks, Caspian stood on a raised boulder shielding his eyes from the sun as he gazed at something out on the plains. An unbidden twinge came to her belly at Fern's insinuation. Caspian's remarkable good looks hadn't been lost on her, but she'd still been too preoccupied with memories of Khelt to think of him in that way.

"Surely he has a mate?" she said, finding herself whispering now too. It was a giddy new thrill to talk about men in this way, now that she had been exposed to the pleasures they could bring.

Fern shook her head. "He takes a female occasionally, often on nights of celebration, but it is rare he brings the same person to his bed more than once. Did you speak with him?"

"Only a little. The alpha left him to keep watch over me, I think."

"Do you think he took a liking to you?" Fern teased.

"How do I tell?"

The other girl laughed. "Oh, I will have to teach you so much about the desires of a woman! Watch a man's eyes, especially at times when they should be busy elsewhere. Does he look to the parts of your body that men's hands long to touch? Does he say things that he would not say to other women?"

"I was not paying attention. I think he looked at the food more than he looked at me."

Fern seemed a little disappointed as she crumbled a handful of dry herbs into the bowl of water. "Well, perhaps we will be lucky. Maybe when the summer nights are hot he will take an eye to one of us for an evening."

"Khelt said that no other male would lay claim to me."

"Not as a mate, no, but pleasure can be shared freely. Even he would not deny you that during times of celebration."

"Perhaps I should ask him, in case it happens." The twinge in Netya's belly tugged harder. She was unsure of how she felt about going to someone else's bed, but the prospect made her curious. Were there different kinds of pleasure to be had with different men, as Fern had suggested? She thought about the way Layon had kissed her, and how it had differed from Khelt's kiss. Both had been pleasurable, one intimate and one intense. She thought she had preferred Khelt's kiss, but she hoped one day to relive the tenderness of Layon's as well.

Again her thoughts drifted toward home, stealing away the excitement and fascination of the present. She wanted to carry on living in the moment, but was that wise?

Fern tugged at the hem of her gown, distracting her from the sinking feeling in her chest.

"You should keep an eye on the other men. See if any of them take a fancy to you. If you desire them as well, there may be a time for you to share those desires."

"Would it be safe? I know that being with a man can leave you with his child. If the alpha desires an heir from me, would he not want it to be his?"

"There are ways for women to decide when they bear a child. Has nobody taught you?"

Netya shook her head. "I do not think my people even know of such ways. If they do, the older women do not share them with the young girls."

"I have been with men many times since I came of age, but I would prefer not to join the mothers until I have a mate of my own. The best way is to wait until a few days before you bleed every month. One of the old seers told me she never felt comfortable laying with a man at any other time, and she went her whole life without bearing a child. There are also plants that will stop a man's essence from entering you when taken. We have used them for many generations."

"I cannot imagine a woman going her whole life without bearing a child. Not if she was with men often," Netya said.

"It sometimes happens among our people, even without taking care. They say that long ago, before the time of our elder's elders, our people bore offspring just as readily as yours. But now there are few of us, and many of you. Perhaps that was why the alpha chose you, to ensure he never picked a female who would give him no heir." Fern dipped a wooden cup into the bubbling water, scooping up plenty of the stewing herbs before handing it to Netya. "This tea is good for the pains when you bleed, but it also soothes after a man leaves you sore from lovemaking."

Netya accepted the steaming cup gratefully, blowing on it and taking a small sip. It tasted bitter and hot, but she trusted in Fern's wisdom.

"I am learning so many things from you," she said. "I don't know how I will keep them all in my head. Being a woman is more complicated than I thought."

Fern laughed again. "You are no older than me, and soon you will know just as much! In a season or two, it will come naturally."

They sat for a while and talked further, Fern pressing her for more details about her night with Khelt, coaxing them out of Netya one by one until she had recounted almost the entire evening, with much commentary from her new friend along the way. It was approaching noon by the time the camp grew more lively, and Netya managed to feel less conscious of the looks thrown her way by the passers by this time. The Moon People seemed much less frightening now, and Fern's company made her forget completely that any of them still viewed her as one of their enemies. Instead her thoughts were occupied with the tantalising prospect of when she might next share a night with Khelt, or how she would discern when another man took interest in her. There was a fresh banquet of pleasures laid out before Netya, and only now had she learned to open her eyes and admire them.

After several reproachful looks from her pack mates, Fern finally tidied her things inside her tent and showed Netya inside to change into her more practical clothes. The day was already old, and they had done nothing but sit and talk while the rest of the pack began their daily work. It was not seemly for young people to lose track of the hours in mindless leisure, Fern explained, especially not in times of need.

Once Netya was dressed Fern led her out of the camp, picking her way down off the outcropping in the direction of the river. There was already a large hunting party out on the plains, she said, but they could still go foraging for fruit and nuts closer to home.

Netya was glad to be making use of herself. Perhaps if the others saw her as more than just a concubine to their alpha they would start looking on her with kinder eyes.

They took a woven grass basket each and made their way down the river to the south until they reached a spot where the watercourse narrowed and a series of carefully placed rocks allowed them to cross. Netya was curious to see whether Fern would take on her majestic wolf form again now that they were out in the open, but she continued talking in her normal guise as they made a leisurely pace through the overgrown land that stretched toward the distant mountains. After half an hour of wandering she realised that the excuse of foraging had probably been little more than a way to escape the disapproving eyes of the other pack members. She didn't mind. It was nice spending time with Fern, and the day was a bright and beautiful one. The blue sky seemed endless here, with no trees or hills to block it out for miles around. The air was sweet, still, and carried the gentle humming of nature all around them.

It had been a long time since Netya felt so free.

—7—

A Hunter's Prize

Fern led them on a long meandering walk to the south before their path finally arced back around and crossed the river again farther downstream. Their small baskets were filled with nuts and berries within a few hours, but Netya was content to carry on wandering as she savoured the sights and sounds of the new place. It was easy to get herself lost in the adventure, worrying of nothing as she enjoyed the sun on her skin and talked with Fern. How could a person think of their troubles on a day like this? Netya's home and people were far away, along with her responsibilities to them. Here everything was new, and she glowed with the satisfaction of her newfound womanhood.

If left to her own devices she could easily have let the whole day slip away, and even in Fern's company she very nearly did. But Netya had always possessed a knack for noticing when something was amiss with the people around her. It was not something she always acted on, and, as youthful as she was, not a talent she yet understood fully, but it was there nonetheless. As the day wore on she became increasingly aware of something strange in Fern's behaviour. At first it was a mild sense of discomfort at certain points in their conversation, then she began to realise that the other girl was intentionally changing the subject, or allowing their discussion to drop off before hastily pointing out some new plant or landmark to Netya.

By the middle of the afternoon, she finally realised what it was.

"Why are we talking only of your people and not mine? I have already forgotten half the names you've told me."

Fern looked sheepish for a moment, and immediately Netya knew she had hit on the source of her unease.

"You have much to learn of us," the other girl said. "I thought you were eager to hear all you could?"

"I am, but you were not so quick to change the subject before."

Fern paused, her brows furrowing. She worked her jaw back and forth, searching for an explanation that refused to come. Netya couldn't help but smile. Fern was clearly not accustomed to dishonesty.

"I'm sorry," she said. "This morning, before he left, the alpha asked me not to speak with you too much of your home. He would prefer you kept your thoughts on the present, I think."

"My thoughts are already on the present. I can barely think of anything else."

Fern gave her a curious look. "I would be missing my home if someone took me away from it."

Netya shrugged, and impatiently pushed the swell of guilt that rose inside her to the back of her mind. "I think my mother was always eager for me to leave the house as soon as possible. She raised me and my sisters for many years by herself. I knew she was weary of it, and of me. We did not often see eye to eye."

"But your friends?"

"They thought I was a witch."

"Because of your hair." Fern nodded, as though it all made perfect sense. "I heard it was the same for Adel, when she was young. It is often true of those with great destinies, for those who see the world differently."

"I think it was more that I made friends with a boy and wasn't afraid of the things that scared the rest of them. I'm sure I see the same world as everyone else."

"You saw that I was trying to avoid speaking of your home just now," Fern pointed out.

"Well, yes, but that was obvious."

"To you it was, but would it seem so clear to anyone else?"

Netya opened her mouth to speak, then pondered it for a moment. She'd never really given the matter much thought before. Always assuming that everyone picked up on such things, she'd made a habit of trying to tell the truth unless she was convinced she could get away with it.

"I don't know," she said. "Perhaps. But I am certainly not destined for anything great."

"Besides being consort to the alpha."

It was Netya's turn to furrow her brows at Fern. "Are you mocking me?"

The other girl looked at her for a moment before a smile began to creep into her expression. A moment later it burst into a laugh, and then Netya was giggling too, putting out a hand to steady her new friend as she threatened to drop the basket of food they'd just spent hours collecting.

"I don't know whether your destiny is great or not, Netya," Fern said once she had regained her composure enough to speak. "But you seem brave, pretty, sharp-minded, and I have enjoyed meeting you very much."

Netya took Fern's basket and set it down on the ground alongside hers, then gave the other girl a hug. "I might not have been so brave without someone to make me feel so welcome. Thank you, Fern."

"Welcome is how you should feel. You are one of our pack now, to me if no one else."

By the time they returned to the camp it was nearing evening. The long shadow of the outcrop crept its way across the grass to greet them as they approached, and the air carried the sweet smell of roasting food.

"No meat," Fern observed glumly. "The hunters can't have come back with anything."

"Are you worried?"

"The land is rich enough for us to survive on plants, but they will not be enough to last the winter, and wolves need meat. Without more successful hunts everyone will be unhappy. Hungry winters are when the most fights happen."

"Will the alpha try to take livestock from my people again?" Netya asked.

"I do not think so. The more often we venture into your lands the more dangerous it becomes."

"Perhaps my people would help freely if they knew you were not the monsters they think."

"I have heard Caspian say the same," Fern said. "But even he seems to believe that it can never truly happen. It is the alpha's business, anyway. He can give you a better answer than me."

They made their way to the foot of the outcropping and climbed the path between the rocks until they were back in the camp. Fern took them to the central area for the first time, where Netya found herself the subject of many curious looks from the assorted people and wolves nearby.

"Let them see your basket," Fern whispered in her ear. "It will make a good impression."

Netya did her best to subtly shift the basket so that it was resting against her hip in full view of the people around her. She still felt as if she was an oddity on display to them, but she hoped Fern's advice would work.

They crossed to a large open-fronted tent hung with heavy fur drapes and stepped inside, where Netya realised the interior led to the dark opening of an earth lodge concealed within the bank behind it. A toothless old woman shuffled out and scowled at them, before grabbing Fern's basket from her and squinting at the contents. She said something in her own language and gave Netya a stern look, before taking her basket as well and rummaging through the assorted berries on top. After a moment she snorted, seemingly satisfied, then said something that Netya did understand.

"Pale little girl, bring more baskets. Good for you, and for me."

Her words were broken and inelegant in their pronunciation, but Netya had the good sense to smile and nod in response. The woman grunted and shuffled back inside, taking the baskets with her.

"She appreciates hard work," Fern said. "She'd welcome the spirits themselves into her tent if they brought enough food with them."

The old woman appeared a moment later with a much smaller bowl of nut meal and berries, which she promptly shoved into Fern's hands before disappearing again.

They sat around the central fire to eat this time. It was a far less comfortable experience for Netya than the relative privacy of Fern's tent, but at the same time she was curious to see the rest of the pack going about their daily business. At first she barely felt able to look anywhere without finding a pair of curious eyes pointed in her direction, but after a while the attention of the Moon People returned to their own business, and the murmur of conversation resumed its natural buzz around them.

The sleek and powerful bodies of the few wolves nearby would have frightened Netya were she alone with them, but they formed such a natural part of the group that she soon had trouble remembering her anxieties. Many lounged on the warm rocks or sat curled up around their partners or mates, some prowling back and forth across the area occasionally, but for the most part it seemed as though a wolf pack and a settlement of people had simply been dropped on top of one another without anyone noticing. It was a surreal and tantalising experience, and Netya found herself enjoying it. Who else from her village could ever claim to have been at ease among a group of such savage beasts?

Not beasts, she reminded herself. People. And they are no more savage than my own.

Some of the others who Fern seemed to regard as friends made attempts to introduce themselves to Netya as she ate. She appreciated the effort, but there was little conversation to be had other than an exchange of names and a few uncertain words, with Fern doing her best to translate. It was true that those among them who spoke Netya's language seemed to be in the minority, and it disappointed her that she was unable to speak properly with them.

Caspian arrived at the central fire a little later, and she took the opportunity to try and engage him in conversation. He responded politely to her, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere, and it was with a strange feeling of disappointment that she left him to his meal and returned to her place beside Fern.

"I must learn to speak as you do," she said. "Or I will have only myself to talk to when you are not around."

"Are you sure? It may take some time. I spent many summers journeying to meet the North People before I could speak as well as them."

"Your words do not sound so different to mine. You call a fire a fire and a tree a tree, don't you? And I have heard you say many other things that I recognise as well."

"I told you you were sharp-minded." Fern grinned. "Alright, perhaps you will learn far faster than I did. And you will have more time than a few weeks every summer to pick it up, too."

Netya wondered, vaguely, whether long ago the Moon People might have spoken the same language as her own. She remembered her grandmother's mother, a woman who had lived far longer than most, sometimes using words that she did not understand. Perhaps after a great many years people simply forgot some words, just as they made up new ones when they discovered things that no words existed to describe. Metal, the material of tools that had allowed her people to build a great many new things, had not existed in her village in the time of her grandmother's mother. When the travellers from the far east had first begun to trade it with them, a new word had been born to describe it. In a hundred years, a hundred new words might be born. How many words did the Moon People have? More than a hundred, certainly. Into numbers beyond counting.

A sudden cry rang out from the other side of the camp. Whatever it was, it seemed important, stirring even the lounging wolves to their feet as the entire group hurried in the direction of the call, meals forgotten and conversations abandoned as each person jostled to find a space on the northern edge of the outcrop.

"What is happening?" Netya asked as Fern urged her to her feet and tugged her in the direction of the others.

"The hunters are back, and the news sounds good!"

Caught up in the infectious atmosphere, Netya found herself standing on tiptoes to try and peer over the shoulders of those in front of her.

"You shouldn't miss the sight of your first successful hunt," Caspian's voice sounded behind her. "Here, climb up." He made a step for her foot with his hands, and she eagerly gripped his shoulders and hoisted herself up, balancing against him as he held her weight with ease.

On the plains below a column of people approached, flanked by three wolves on either side. Those in the middle carried something between them, while a single figure strode out ahead to lead the way. For a moment Netya thought it might be Khelt, but he was nowhere to be seen, neither with the hunters or the rest of the pack.

A resounding cheer went up from the group around her, and the hunters in the distance responded with howls of their own. Everyone was talking excitedly, and Netya could understand not a word of it. But even without language, the relief and elation of the pack was obvious. For the first time she found herself completely forgotten as the returning hunters stole away the attention of the Moon People.

Caspian shifted to brace her weight more securely against his hip, and she felt the firm motion of his muscles working beneath her fingers. A warm flush lit her body as she imagined how those muscles might feel without the barrier of clothing covering them. How Caspian's strong grip might feel when applied to other parts of her body. She took a deep breath and pried her thoughts away from such cravings, returning her attention to the procession of hunters as they made their way to the base of the outcrop and up the path.

Caspian let her down as the group broke apart and rushed to meet their returning brethren, and before she could even thank him he had disappeared again into the crowd. Amidst the clamour of raucous voices and cheers of victory she found her way back to Fern's side, and was finally able to get a good look at the hunters as the group parted to allow them through.

Even she was impressed by the spoils. The slain beasts the group had returned with were so large Netya was amazed that the thick wooden poles they were lashed to —and the men carrying them—did not buckle under their weight. She did not recognise the animals, but they reminded her a little of oversized goats, and each one alone would certainly provide enough meat to feed the entire pack.

She turned her attention to the hunter leading the procession, and was surprised to see that it was not a man as she had first assumed, but a woman. This was no mother or seer. The girl seemed tall and wiry enough to challenge any man's strength, and she wore a look of such satisfaction and confidence that Netya felt humbled just by being in her presence. In her ears she wore sharp spikes of bone, and she had cut her hair almost to the scalp on one side of her head while the other half remained long and braided. Netya felt fortunate that it was Fern she and Layon had run into two nights ago and not this woman.

The congratulations continued as the hunters passed through, but the group moved back and kept at a respectful distance as the spoils were borne to the central fire. It seemed that some tradition had to be observed before the hunters could rest and the meat be butchered.

"Vaya was not leading the hunt when they set out," Fern said to her. "She must have been the one to track down the animals and make the first kill."

"Vaya is the woman in front?" Netya replied.

Fern nodded. "Women rarely claim the hunter's prize, but this is not the first time Vaya has done it. Tal, the hunt leader, cannot be very happy. This should have been his glory."

Netya watched in fascination as the hunters stopped next to the fire and their escort of wolves moved back. The men set down two of the large animals on the ground, leaving only Vaya standing beside the bearers that carried the third. She raised her hands to the sky and barked something that drew more shouts of elation from the pack, before clapping a palm against the flank of the slain best. It had not been killed with spears or knives. Instead several claw marks lined its hide, and the killing wound in the back of its neck looked to have been inflicted by long fangs.

The wrinkled elder who had taken Fern and Netya's baskets stepped forward, examining the kill for a moment before giving a grunt of approval. She then bent and brought a flint knife to the beast's throat, slitting it wide open and allowing the blood to spill freely on to the ground. Before the animal had bled out completely she filled a bowl with its draining life essence and presented it to Vaya. The voices of the pack subsided as all eyes turned to the victorious young woman, who accepted the bowl with a slight bow, before bringing it to her lips and drinking until it was empty.

That seemed to signal an end to the formalities. A final cheer went up from the crowd before they all rushed forward to congratulate the hunters, several people moving to begin the work of skinning and butchering the animals immediately. Vaya, Netya noticed, was being presented with gifts from the other pack members. Handfuls of food, small trinkets, and articles of clothing, all of which she accepted with great satisfaction.

"They seem very thankful to her," Netya said.

"We have had no successful hunts for many weeks now. She succeeded where others have failed, and now the whole pack will eat well again."

"People do not usually give gifts to the hunters in my village."

"Ah," Fern said, "but your people do not value the hunt as we do. This night is Vaya's. That is the hunter's prize. Until the sun rises tomorrow, she will be treated with the honour of the alpha himself. Those who give gifts seek to earn her favour for hunts she leads in the future. They hope to also share in her next glory, or perhaps even claim it for themselves."

Once the gifts had stopped coming and only congratulations were left, Vaya's eyes began roaming the area, and several knowing chuckles sounded from those nearby. Even Fern seemed amused.

"And of course, there is one other prize she also has the right to claim."

Vaya's gaze finally settled on one of the hunters who had come in with her, and she smiled with almost predatory satisfaction.

"Of course it would be Tal," Fern said. "The other men will not soon forget him losing favour to a woman, especially not after this."

The hunt leader Tal kept a steady expression as Vaya approached him, but his discomfort was obvious. One of the other men gave him a teasing shove, laughing with the others at some joke that had been made, presumably at Tal's expense. This seemed to please Vaya even more. She put an arm around the hunt leader's waist and said something to him, then tugged him away to come sit with her by the fire.

Netya had a vague idea of what was happening, but she was still confused.

"That," Fern said, sharing in the men's mirth, "is one of the few times you will ever see a woman lay claim to a man."

"She will lie with him tonight?"

"Tal would lose face if he refused. He has already lost much by letting Vaya claim his prize, and she knows it. After tonight, I do not think he will be leading many more hunts in place of her."

"Can the hunters take anyone they desire after such a victory?"

"It would depend on the victory," Fern explained. "This one is particularly special. Of course, it would be improper to try and lay claim to the alpha or those of high status, but the other pack members are theirs to choose from." She smiled and led them back to their seats to finish the meal they'd abandoned. "You know, Vaya chose me the second time she claimed the hunter's prize."

"Over a man?"

Fern nodded. "She values power over pleasure, and we were both apprentice hunters of equal status at the time. She is among the high hunters now."

Netya's thoughts tingled with curiosity. "What was it like?"

"Most men are gentle sheep compared to Vaya." Fern rolled her eyes. "I was glad to indulge her, but she made her point. I was no rival to her status after that night."

"That seems a strange thing to do in the name of power," Netya said as she watched Vaya curiously.

"It has everything to do with power," Fern replied, "even between close friends or lovers. One must always give, and one must always take. Even if the dominant lover switches, there are always moments of powerlessness on one person's part. Surely you felt it with the alpha last night?"

Netya pondered the question before responding. "It seems more frightening when you describe it that way. I was completely in his power. I don't know if I could have resisted him even if I'd wanted. He seemed in control the whole time."

"Sometimes you will be with a man and find the opposite to be true," Fern said. "He will be unsure, or apprehensive, and you will find yourself guiding his pleasure rather than allowing him to slake it as you submit."

"I cannot imagine someone like the alpha ever being unsure."

Fern chuckled. "He would not be, no. Few men are. That is why the others mock Tal. They know Vaya will not allow him to take her in the way he would want."

Netya thought about it a little more as she watched the pack heat flat cooking stones in the fire and butcher the fresh game. Before long the smell of sizzling meat was rich in the air, and she found herself growing hungry again despite having just eaten.

"I think I enjoyed the power the alpha had over me," she said at last. "It made him feel... I do not know, greater, somehow. And the pleasure he gave me was greater because of it. I would not have felt the same way with someone else."

"You will have to enjoy a great many more men before you make that decision," Fern said. "But yes, that is why the other women will envy you. Many of them desire to be taken by a man who embodies such power."

The tales of the hunt continued for a good hour as an impromptu banquet seemed to break out, the rationing of the food forgotten in light of the successful hunt. Fresh meat was cooked and shared freely, and before long the whole pack seemed to have gathered to eat and hear Vaya and her hunters recount their success. Netya understood only what Fern translated for her, but she enjoyed the jovial atmosphere and the warmth of the fire as night gradually fell upon the camp.

It took some time, but eventually she became aware of her name being mentioned once more. Once the buzz of the hunt had ebbed, the Moon People returned to discussing the second most interesting topic in their camp. The only one who seemed not to care was Vaya, who still wore the same prideful grin of victory she had sported since claiming her prize. Netya could hardly blame her. The night was hers, after all.

But Vaya's grin began to falter as the topic of conversation around her diverged time and again from the words Netya had come to associate with "hunt" and "hunter", to be replaced with increasingly frequent utterances of her own name and Khelt's. She began to grow uncomfortable, and when she next looked across the fire it was to see Vaya's unsmiling eyes staring back at her.

The huntress curled her lip, then rose to her feet and spat out a harsh-sounding comment. She turned her back on the fire and dragged Tal after her, disappearing into one of the tents.

It had been a long day, but a good one. Even Vaya's unsettling look wasn't enough to dampen the excitement Netya now felt by being in the presence of such fascinating people. For the first time in her life she was free from everything, learning the ways of a woman and experiencing things that had seemed forever beyond her reach back in the village. She was hungry for more.

Fern took them back to her tent, but explained that she would be joining some of the other young hunters for the rest of the night. The night was the time of a wolf, and she had been invited to follow Vaya's trail back to where her kills had been made so that they might continue tracking the herd she had stumbled across. One successful hunt was no reason to become complacent in times of need, and there was much glory to be had in building upon Vaya's success rather than letting it slip through their fingers.

Fern rekindled the inside fire and allowed Netya to curl up in the bed of warm furs, before wishing her a good night and slipping out through the flap of the tent.

It was strange to be on her own. Ever since meeting the Moon People she had never been left alone for long, and now at last she finally had time to let her thoughts wander as she lay there staring up at the stars through the open smoke flap. She wondered where Khelt had been that evening. Part of her had been excited to see whether he would call her back to his bed again, despite still hurting a little from the last time. She wanted to experience more of the pleasures shared between women and men. Pleasures that these people seemed to embrace so freely, without any of the mystery or reserve that surrounded the topic in her own home.

Her body tingled as she imagined firm, masculine hands running over it, massaging the soft and sensitive places that longed to be touched. She thought of Khelt's broad form looming over her, the perspiration beading on his chest and his hot breath rushing passionately against her ear.

Most of all she remembered the hot, piercing intrusion of his manhood opening up her body, and how much she now longed to experience that feeling of fullness once again. Her hand began to stray downwards until it found the tender bud between her legs that Khelt had elicited so much pleasure from. She touched it gently, and a gasp left her lips as the spot brought back the sensations of the previous night more vividly than any memory.

Her fingers moved slowly, shivers rippling over her skin as she allowed her thoughts to stray to other men, Layon, Caspian, the powerful hunters who had walked in with Vaya...

An unexpected cry left her lips, and she was forced to bury her face in the furs as she convulsed with a surge of pleasure; the same intense climax Khelt had given her in his bed. It was less heady, and did not carry her through the same peaks and ebbs that the alpha's lovemaking had accomplished, but it left her trembling and gasping all the same, her head buried in the crook of an arm as she reeled from the sensation.

A smile lit Netya's lips as she caught her breath. If these were the pleasures of a woman, she was glad to have been introduced to them.

—8—

Among Wolves

Khelt was gone for almost another two days. The pack seemed to defer to Caspian in his absence, though little leadership seemed necessary as the group formed new hunting plans and set about the business of preserving much of their fresh kill for the winter. It was a strange time for Netya as she became acclimated to daily life among the Moon People. They slept late, many of them spending the night hours out on the plains as wolves before returning home to sleep during the day, dozing in their tents until noon. This left Netya with the camp practically to herself in the mornings. The elders who lacked the energy to spend all night out with the others were her only company, along with an occasional mother woken early by her infant. They did not engage much with Netya, though she could tell by their reactions that a few of the elders understood at least some of her language.

It was frustrating to feel so intentionally isolated, and it was during those quiet mornings that she found herself thinking most about home. More than once she wondered how far she might get across the plains before the Moon People caught up with her. Certainly not far enough. The land stretched out endlessly around them, and the knowledge that the wolves could run faster, harder, and for longer than her kept Netya prisoner far more effectively than the bars of any cage.

Still, she did not like to think of her position in those terms. She did not feel like a captive, more a guest, and she had already experienced things among the Moon People that would have compelled her to stay even without the implicit threat. In her youthful optimism, she never truly considered the possibility that she might never see her home again.

While the quiet mornings allowed Netya's mind to wander, the afternoons left her no such time for introspection. Fern was keen to take her out foraging, spending hours chattering away about old topics that became fresh and new in the company of a stranger. Netya, too, found herself responding in kind, enjoying the rare opportunity to recount the stories of her people to someone who had never heard them before. She also became aware that Fern seemed somewhat distanced from the other members of the pack her age. It was nothing compared to the isolation Netya was subjected to, but during meal times she noticed that, while many of the other pack members might occasionally come over to talk with Fern, they rarely sat with her for the whole meal.

Vaya seemed to command a lot of respect among the young men and women of the pack, especially in the wake of her successful hunt, and it was around her that the others often gathered. The imposing huntress made Netya nervous whenever she was around, but the only member of the pack that filled her with genuine unease was the den mother, Adel. It was rare that she appeared outside her cave, but when she did conversations dimmed and anxious eyes followed her wherever she went. It was subtle, perhaps not something the pack even realised they were doing, but Netya saw it clear as day. Adel commanded a level of respect and fear that seemed to outstrip that of the alpha himself. Even without asking why, she could sense the power that radiated from the tall, dark-haired woman. She walked among the Moon People as though she was striding through another world, watching them like a lofty spirit traversing their mortal landscape. Netya might have been called a witch by the other girls in jest, but Adel was a woman truly deserving of the title. Her dark eyes held an understanding of the secrets that others had glimpsed only briefly in the land of dreams and nightmares.

Thankfully the den mother did not take it upon herself to speak to Netya again, all but ignoring her presence every time she appeared to bathe or collect food that would always be eaten in private. Netya was glad. If there was one person who could have convinced her to act on her thoughts of escape, it was Adel.

At sunset on Netya's fourth day among the Moon People, Khelt returned.

He strode back into camp along with the man he had been speaking to in his den, the pair both looking weary, but satisfied. Keen to cement her good first impression—with the others as much as the alpha—Netya stood up and hurried to greet him.

Immediately she regretted the decision. Out of the corner of her eye she saw people rising to their feet in alarm. Khelt's companion stared at her incredulously, clearly shocked that she would approach the alpha in such a fashion.

Netya froze, her chest tightening as she realised her error. These were a people of customs and tradition, and while she had yet to understand much of their way of life, she did know that anything involving the alpha was steeped in a heavy sense of humility and respect. Someone with no real rank among the pack approaching him so readily clearly seemed to be a violation.

She stood there for a moment, the burning sensation at the back of her neck growing as she felt a dozen pairs of eyes watching her. Her first thought was to bow her head in deference as she had seen Fern do after being chastised, but instead she found herself looking to the alpha, wanting to see his judgement for herself.

Rather than anger, it was surprise that registered on Khelt's face. He hesitated, looking at her curiously, then before anyone could say a word he stepped forward and scooped her up in his arms, letting out a bark of laughter as he strode into the middle of the camp. He bellowed a few words in his own language, a grin on his face as he carried Netya to a seat by the fire and set her down in his lap.

"A fine greeting for a weary alpha," he said in Netya's tongue. "I told them I was glad to be reminded of what would welcome me back to my bed this night."

Netya looked around, her cheeks colouring as the momentary tension began to dissipate. The others were smiling and sharing in their alpha's mirth, clearly surprised, but reassured by their leader's good humour. Khelt leaned closer and murmured into her ear.

"Any member of my pack would not approach me so boldly. Your eagerness may get you into trouble yet."

She could only think to nod. Her heart was still beating fast, but for quite another reason now. The alpha's bare chest was warm beneath her palms, the scent of the day clinging to him as it had when she lay with him in his den. She would be his again that evening, and at last she would relive all the things she had fantasised about since his departure.

"You have made yourself at home among my pack?" Khelt questioned her.

"I have tried. Your ways are still very strange to me, but I am doing my best to learn."

"And you are content? You are not unhappy here?"

"No. Fern has been a friend to me, and your land is beautiful."

The alpha nodded, satisfied by her simple answer. He did not question her about how she was adapting to pack life again.

"Sit with me here tonight, I would enjoy spending the evening with a female by my side. Our journey was long, but tonight I will rest and enjoy the simple pleasures."

"Where did you go?" Netya asked. "Was your journey important?"

Khelt dismissed her question with a wave of his hand. "It is nothing for you to concern yourself with. Just know that our pack is safe, as are you." From his tone it was clear that he had no desire to speak further about his business of the last two days. He groaned and stretched, allowing Netya to unfasten his cloak and work the tension from his shoulders with her fingers.

A strange sense of duty came over her in Khelt's company. She imagined it was similar to how the others felt around him, but she couldn't be sure whether it was due to the alpha's natural presence or because of the role she had been given to serve him. She had spent the last few days collecting berries and helping to prepare some of the food, yes, but those were small chores compared to the work of the hunters, the mothers, the craftspeople who made clothes and tools, or the seers who spent their time in Adel's cave communing with the spirits. Netya could do none of those things, but sitting there on the alpha's broad lap, entrusted with his personal comfort and satisfaction, she finally felt that she was fulfilling a role unique to her.

She had been brought here to be the alpha's consort, and a consort she would be.

After a time Khelt eased Netya off his lap, but he kept her close by his side, an arm resting around her shoulders or waist more often than not. He was brought food and water, and Netya found herself enjoying her time spent beside him, made all the more eager by the way his palm sometimes roamed to stroke up and down the curve of her hip. Not a tender or lustful touch; that would come later, she suspected, but a pleasant reminder that he could and would lay his hands on her in a way no other man was permitted.

Once Khelt had eaten he congratulated his pack on the successful hunt in his absence, and called Vaya over to speak with him personally. For all her fire and confidence, even she seemed humbled in the presence of her alpha. Netya understood nothing but a few stray words of their conversation, but she did notice the way Vaya's eyes flicked in her direction impatiently. The huntress was uncomfortable. Could it be that she envied Netya's position? Or was it something else?

Netya watched her carefully, made confident by Khelt's presence, but she failed to grasp exactly what it was that Vaya seemed to dislike about her. She was a strange, intimidating woman, and by the time Khelt dismissed her Netya still felt that she was no closer to understanding the huntress.

"She would try to rise above even the men, that one," Khelt said once Vaya had departed. "And if her victories continue, one day she will. A pack needs strong wolves like her."

"Would she become den mother? That is the highest rank of a female, is it not?"

Khelt snorted in amusement. "The den mother is a seer of wisdom and insight; the great powers of a woman. She embodies that which allows all women to thrive and stand as equals among their pack, just as the alpha must possess the greatest strength and cunning of all men. Vaya may be a woman, but she does not bear the power of a den mother."

"Instead she bears the power of a man?"

Khelt nodded. "I see the way you watch her, and the way you watch the others. I think you see much, Netya."

"Fern told me something similar."

Khelt chuckled. "That," he said, "is the power a den mother must hold." He picked up her dark braid of hair, massaging it between his thumb and forefinger. "Had you been born of our people, perhaps that would have been your destiny one day."

Netya expected them to retreat to the privacy of the alpha's den once night fell, but Khelt seemed to enjoy the time spent in the company of his people. Though they all treated him with great respect, he was not at all aloof or detached like Adel. Once he had eaten and addressed the important matters that required his attention he called the others over readily to share his place by the fire. Most of his company seemed to be the senior males, but he excluded no one else who also wished to join. When the hunters spoke of Vaya claiming her prize Khelt roared with laughter, tossing Tal his fur cloak with a bawdy comment that stirred even more amusement from those around him. Not to be outdone, Tal threw the cloak back with a retort that included Netya's name, and more bellowing laughs filled the air as Khelt feigned offence, clapping a hand to his chest as he rebuked the comment.

"Tal asks whether you are even more of a beast than Vaya!" he said in words Netya could understand. "They wonder whether their alpha has been humbled by a fierce little female."

She grinned, glad to be included in the joke. She had never been welcome when Layon and the other young men enjoyed such evening banter back home.

As the night wore on the high spirits around the alpha's fire gave way to yet another celebration of sorts. Netya got the feeling that these things happened often among the Moon People. More meat was brought out to be roasted, and the men began passing around a strange-smelling bowl of drink that Netya could manage no more than a sip of before it burned her tongue and made her choke, much to their amusement.

For the first time since her arrival she began to feel truly welcome. The conversation and laughter that surrounded the fire was warming to her soul, and in her place by the alpha's side she no longer felt like an awkward guest to be regarded with suspicion and discomfort. She would have sought out Fern if not for Khelt's arm around her, but before too long she spotted the other girl on the far side of the fire, giggling as one of the young males she had introduced Netya to on her first day nuzzled into her neck and put his hands on her body. The pair of them seemed in playfully good humour, and when Netya caught Fern's eye she grinned, wondering whether her new friend would have some exciting tales of her own to share the next morning.

Taking her lead from several of the other adventurous couples around the fire, Netya rested her chin on Khelt's shoulder, letting her hands creep across his chest and back as her heart beat quicker with excitement. She did not feel clumsy or nervous, only eager to share in the things the other young women were enjoying.

When he noticed her teasing fingers Khelt turned to her with a knowing look, yanking her suddenly closer by the hip and claiming her mouth with his own. Heat rushed through her body as a smile spread across her lips, the pressure of the alpha's kiss forcing her head back until he was leaning over her, his tongue eagerly exploring her depths until she was left gasping. It was a clear show of dominance, not just to her, but to any who might be watching, and Netya found herself happy to submit. When Khelt withdrew she lay there panting in his arms, curling her toes into the grass as she giggled breathlessly.

"I am glad you have taken well to this," he said, smiling, but with sincerity in his eyes. "I wondered whether you would still be willing when I returned. That you might long to return to your own people by now."

Netya shook her head, keen to change the subject. "There are many things for me to enjoy here," she said simply.

Khelt kissed her again, running a hand down over her tingling belly to cup the space between her legs. "Then I will make sure you enjoy all of them, my concubine."

The alpha began to rise to his feet, but the sound of raised voices nearby caused him to stop. Netya sat back up, leaning in close to him as she tried to make out the source of the commotion. At one of the smaller fires two young men, barely of age, were on their feet, glaring at one another with fire in their eyes as they argued. They seemed oblivious to the voices of the friends who tried to calm them, standing toe to toe as they pointed and yelled, growing louder by the second.

Khelt curled his lip in annoyance, glaring at the two. By now most of the pack was looking their way.

"What's going on?" Netya whispered.

"They are arguing again. Erech and Nathar. I had hoped the two of them would be beyond this by now."

"What are they arguing about?"

Khelt gave her an impatient look. "You ask many questions of me."

"I am curious," she responded, refusing to wilt under his gaze. "It is difficult when I do not understand the words of your people."

"They are arguing about you. They disagree on whether they would allow you to stay in our camp if the decision was theirs to make."

Immediately Netya's warm feelings began to dissipate. Perhaps her ignorance of the language of the Moon People had been shielding her from their true thoughts.

"I would not worry yourself over it," Caspian said from his seat nearby. "Those two would argue the colour of the sky if it meant avoiding an agreement on something."

"And yet they are men now, not children," Khelt growled. "They say these things even in the hearing of their alpha."

"They are young," an old man with a single lick of white hair on his forehead joined in. "Their anger makes the world small until they can think of nothing else. Give them a moment, and they will realise."

It suddenly occurred to Netya that her language was not being used solely out of courtesy to her, but as a way for the senior members of the pack to converse in relative privacy. She grew quiet then, keen not to intrude on something that had clearly become a matter of concern.

"I have already given them many more years of patience than were granted to me at their age. They cannot continue this way," Khelt said.

"You are not so much older than them yourself," the old man observed, with a hint of a smile.

"Next to you every man is young," Caspian said. "But I agree with Khelt. This anger of theirs has been given time enough to burn itself out. We cannot keep placing them apart on hunts when they should be working together."

Khelt grunted. "They are of age. They will settle their differences like men for once. Perhaps then they will understand that this bickering of theirs is the refuge of fools and children." He moved his hand off Netya's waist and rose to his feet, bellowing a single, sharp command that silenced the entire gathering. The two young men froze, staring at their alpha like startled animals.

Khelt picked his way through the group and strode toward them, gesturing in Netya's direction and then yelling something that sounded like a question. The pair remained silent, paling before their alpha's anger. Khelt folded his arms, staring at them one at a time, then said something else. One of the young men tried to respond, but the alpha silenced him curtly, his tone calm and controlled now. He had lain down an ultimatum for the two, and with the eyes of the pack on them it seemed they had no choice but to comply with it.

"Your people do not have this custom, do they?" Caspian said to Netya.

"What custom?"

"We must learn respect for one another. Not just for those of higher rank, but for every member of our pack. If we are to lose control of our emotions in anger, we must understand the consequences of doing so. Holding our feelings in check is a small price to pay for what might happen if we submit to the beasts inside us."

An uneasy prickle crept up Netya's spine. "What does that mean for them?"

"If Erech and Nathar continue to howl at one another like wild animals, then they will settle their differences in the same way. Once they are done, at least one of them will realise the value of keeping a good temper."

"And the stronger wolf will have his way," the old man said, glancing at Netya. "You saw Vaya's victory in the hunt, yes? That is but one way for a wolf to demonstrate their power."

"A better way." Caspian grimaced. "But there is power in violence too."

It chilled Netya to hear the whoops of excitement that filled the air the next time Khelt spoke. Unlike Caspian, they seemed just as excited as they had been when Vaya returned from the hunt. Whatever violent contest was about to settle the dispute between the two young males, it had awakened some primal urge in the others that had them jumping to their feet and cheering in anticipation as Khelt lit a torch and led the pair away from the central fire.

Even Fern, her arm entwined with that of her male companion, seemed excited as she joined the procession filing after their alpha.

Caspian said something in his own language and rose to leave, heading back toward the tents. Netya was left sitting alone with the old man, apprehension twisting in her stomach. Part of her wanted to return to Fern's tent, go to sleep, and wake up tomorrow none the wiser about what had transpired. The Moon People were not monsters. They were welcoming, fascinating, enthralling creatures. She did not want to be given reason to think otherwise.

"You are eager to learn the ways of our people?" the old man said.

"Of course."

"Ignorance sees only what it wants. Half-truths." He nodded in the direction of the group. "Go, if you truly wish to learn. Or stay, and do not."

Curiosity and fear fought in Netya's mind, but she found herself rising slowly to her feet and following after the group, shielded by the darkness, beyond the reach of the torches they carried.

The procession continued all the way down the broad path that split the front of the outcropping, heading out on to the plains where the long grass drifted in the breeze and the warming lights of the fires were no more. Seemingly forgotten, Netya kept her distance, wrapping her arms across her chest against the cold. The pack found an open area and set their torches in the ground at the edges, lighting a broad circle around their alpha and the two young men.

Netya crouched down in the grass, letting it hide her as she watched. She could have joined them, but she was afraid to. She was afraid of seeing something terrible. Fern's smile and Khelt's arm around her waist would not bring her any comfort if she did. Quite the opposite. And yet she watched with morbid fascination as the alpha spoke to the two young men in turn, waiting for them to nod in understanding, before retreating to the edge of the circle and folding his arms once again. The voices of the pack grew louder, whooping and jeering as they called out the names of the pair, working themselves into a frenzy of excitement.

Erech and Nathar stared at one another, fear and anger and anticipation clear to see in their expressions. Did they fear submission? Dishonour? Injury? Or something even worse. Netya recalled again the bleached skulls on the farm wall.

The bodies of the two young men contorted, shifting almost simultaneously into the shapes of hulking wolves. Even in the light of the torches the transition took place so quickly that Netya could make no sense of how it happened. One moment they were men, the next their features were a blur, their fur clothing peeling like frayed skin as it melded with their bodies, and within the blink of an eye two beasts stood facing one another.

A cry went up from the group as one of them lunged, both wolves rearing up as claws flailed and teeth snapped, wisps of fur torn into the air. It was sudden and vicious and desperate. When the men of Netya's village fought for sport it was a slow and measured practice, more of a game than a fight. This was nothing like that. She clutched at the stalks of grass between her fingers, watching with wide eyes as the two wolves scrabbled and thrashed, knocking over one of the torches as they rolled into the edge of the crowd.

The group pulled back to make room, but the cheers of encouragement only increased in volume. As Netya grew tenser by the moment, the Moon People became more and more elated. Only Khelt was silent as he watched, but he wore a satisfied smile, as if the bloodsport pleased him just as much as it did his pack.

The noises they made were horrible. Heavy, growling breath. Barks and yelps and howls, the sounds made by animals when they were either killing or dying. This was no game. Erech and Nathar were trying to kill one another, and their pack was cheering for it. Netya glimpsed Fern's smiling face in the crowd, and immediately began to feel nauseous. Dark blood spattered into the grass as one of the wolves howled in pain.

She could not watch any longer. She felt her stomach would turn if she witnessed the fight play out to its bloody conclusion. All the thoughts of home she had been suppressing since her arrival flooded back to her, and in an instant she wanted nothing more than to be back there. Her urge to turn and run across the plains was so strong she feared she might actually do it.

These were not the people she'd thought they were. They might look and act like her own kind, but they were different. This kind of violence was the sport of barbarians. Monsters.

Hot tears stung Netya's eyes as her will broke. She turned to run.

She did not get far. Behind her, raven hair swirling from beneath her headdress in the night's breeze, the den mother stood.

"Do you see why you do not belong with us now?" she whispered, gazing into Netya's soul with her dark eyes. "You are a sheep among wolves, lost from her flock."

With a sob Netya made to run past her, but Adel caught her wrist and yanked her back, hard fingers digging into her skin with a grip every bit as strong as Khelt's.

"You don't run, sheep, you watch." Adel twisted Netya's struggling body to face the circle of torches again, moving behind her and gripping her by the chin. "This is what these people are like," she hissed in her ear. "Savages who fight and take. Did you forgive them so quickly for what they did to you?"

Netya found it hard to breathe. Her throat was tight and painful, her cheeks wet with tears. She was trapped in more ways than she had ever felt trapped before. She had no power over these people, and no strength to fight back against Adel's grip. Her panicked thoughts could settle on only one thing that Fern had mentioned. The power she held through the colour of her dark hair.

She didn't know what she expected, whether Adel would fear her, or respect her, or empathise somehow, but she clutched her braid in both hands and prayed that something, anything, would happen to release her from this moment.

"Spirits help me," she whispered.

"The spirits did not help me when I was taken from my pack," Adel said. "No more than my own kin. They gave me up as though my black hair was a prize they could trade away for their own happiness. Look at them!" She shook Netya sharply, fingers digging into the girl's cheeks as she forced her to watch. "These are the Moon People. Barbarians who would play with lives. Yours and their own. Do you see now?"

Netya saw more blood on the grass. The cheers of the pack rang in her ears. Khelt's face was a blur through her watery eyes.

"I see," she sobbed.

Adel murmured something. Whether the sound was satisfied, amused, or bitter, Netya could not tell.

"Then tell me," the den mother said. "Will you run home, little sheep? Or will the wolves have their meal?"

This is the end of the preview edition. Read on in the complete novel, now available to download in full for free!

# # #

Thank you very much for purchasing this title, I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing!

If you have a spare moment to return to where you purchased the book and leave a review it would be much appreciated!

Reviews help new readers find my work and decide if the book is for them, along with providing helpful feedback for my writing.

If you would like to hear about my new releases directly then please feel free to sign up for my email list. Subscribers will receive a complimentary free copy of Daughter of the Night, the first prequel to The Moon People saga, along with access to giveaways, more opportunities for free/advance copies of my books, and notifications of new releases.

Claudia King is a writer based in the United Kingdom, she studied Creative Arts at university and continues to maintain a passionate interest in storytelling across many forms of media. She owns a banana plant.

Explore more of my titles or follow me online:

Smashwords - https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/ClaudiaKing

Blog - http://claudiakingerotica.blogspot.co.uk/

Twitter - https://twitter.com/CKerotica

Mailing List - http://eepurl.com/bM3kY

Drop me an email! I love hearing from readers - claudiakingbooks@gmail.com

