Rogue Moon by Aimee Easterling

Author:Aimee Easterling
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: werewolf, werewolves, fox shifter, kitsune, japanese legend, japanese myth, japanese fantasy, paranormal, paranormal fantasy, urban fantasy, alpha, mate, asian legend, asian myth, asian fantasy, shifter, wolf shifter
Publisher: Wetknee Books
Published: 2022-05-17T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 23

The alpha’s words smelled like truth, which didn’t mean no one in his pack had killed Kaito. Still, there was a limit to how long I could keep a pack leader pinned without bringing further repercussions down upon Gate City. So I eased my dagger back inch by inch as Chief Reed released his grip on my throat at the same snail’s pace. Finally, skin prickling, I turned my back on danger and strode to Thom’s side.

“Remember this,” Chief Reed called after me. “Tit for tat.”

I turned to find that the sun had fallen below the horizon, lack of glare making it easy to see Gate City and Reed pack mates separating into two lines. The battle was apparently over. Sure enough, with a jerk of his chin, both Chief Reed and his underlings faded into the trees, not heading west toward Gate City this time but traveling east toward his own land.

For his part, Thom’s white-knuckled fists suggested his patience had run thin. Keeping his attention on my face, he growled an order over my shoulder: “Bertrand, Hank, escort our uninvited guests to the border.”

“Yes, alpha.”

Receding footsteps proved they’d obeyed him, but the reek of barely repressed fury continued roiling off the man in front of me. I understood why when one of his fists eased open and he reached up to almost, but not quite, touch my wound.

“I’m fine,” I reassured him. “I’ll shift and it’ll fade to almost nothing.”

“Then we can celebrate.” A werewolf who’d always given me the cold shoulder in the past strode up to clap me on the back. “Meet up at the bar?”

Jubilation was already breaking out among Thom’s pack mates. We hadn’t precisely won, but my sneak attack had apparently given them a reason to howl and frolic. Not that, with werewolves, it took much to reach that point.

Their alpha, however, wasn’t ready to embrace the relief of a battle ended with no major injuries. “First-aid kit,” he demanded and someone handed over a red box with a white cross on top. “Water bottle?” Half a dozen shifters offered what he’d requested.

So I knew what was coming before Thom warned: “This will sting.”

Water slapped my wound, cold and painful. It made sense to irrigate out as much dirt as possible, but I still yelped despite myself.

And Thom swore, flinging the borrowed water bottle at a tree trunk where it struck with a rather unsatisfying crackle. Despite the complete lack of damage to anything other than disposable plastic, I winced. Rage was out of character for this man who usually took gentleness to extremes.

“Thom,” I started. But his body had turned away from me, toward Reed territory. His alpha scent had turned dark and dangerous.

Tit for tat. Anything Thom did now would blow back on the pack later.

“Thom,” I repeated, grabbing his wrist. “Cool it.”

Around us, the sounds of celebration ceased. But I ignored watchful eyes, focusing only on the man in front of me. The man who was still facing a forest darkening by the second, just like our future if he gave in to simmering rage.

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