Daughter of the Moon (The Moon People, Book Two) (29 page)

"What do you mean? What became of him?" Netya asked.

"Only your den mother knows. He spoke of her as if she was the moon spirit made flesh. A temptation so wonderful that he would walk the spirit world to be with her. And I believe he did, for he vanished into the night many years ago." The man smiled again. "I feel him in the fires even now, tempting me to follow where he once strayed."

"We may tempt, but we will not drag you into the spirit world," Fern said, enticed by the mysterious, romantic tale. "Not unless you earn our ire, of course."

The nervous look that played across the man's face was tinged with humour. "I once charged three mountain cats alone when I was out on the hunt. They say I am the bravest of all my pack, but even I fear to tangle with witches."

Out of the corner of Fern's eye she noticed Netya edging forward, about to speak. She wanted to know more of the strange tale of Adel's love, no doubt. But this was not a night to dwell on the past. Before Netya could start, Fern dragged Selo forward and all but tossed her into the man's arms. The girl put up a hand to steady herself, a faint gasp leaving her lips as her fingers alighted on his sculpted chest. His arms moved naturally around her in response, and Fern saw him stir with eagerness.

"Be bold, great hunter! Tame my sister and take the tales of your conquest back to your clan. I promise, she shall place no curses on you."

The hunter met Selo's eyes, and she gazed up at him with colour rising in her cheeks. His palm slid down the small of her back, traversing the curve of her hips before exploring the softness of her rear. "Mmh," he growled under his breath, speaking a word in the strange language of his people. "I am a fool for women."

"If you do not want her, then another man will be able to boast tomorrow that he was the first to claim a witch," Fern said.

Her words had the desired effect. The man bared his teeth once more, shooting an eager glance Fern's way before bending down to bring Selo in for a kiss. The girl did not protest in the slightest, letting herself be swept up in the ebony hunter's embrace as his lips and hands kindled the passion that would last them through the night.

"I wanted to hear more of his tale," Netya said as he took Selo away to lay her down in the light of the fires.

"I know you did," Fern chastised. "And I am sure it would make for a beautiful, sad story. Ask him again on another day. He will be more than willing to tell you if Selo gives him the night he desires." She giggled, tugging Netya aside to where another knot of early arrivals had formed.

Not everyone found partners immediately. Indeed, the search for the right companion was the entire purpose of the celebration for some. It was a night of talking and feasting as well as lovemaking. Fern did not count herself among those who took the evening slowly, but she was determined to make sure Netya ended up in good hands before worrying about her own pleasures.

"I see Orec coming," she said to her friend. "And Adel's brother, Karel. What about the den mother over there? Mm?"

Netya shook her head wryly, arms clasped across her breasts. "I would not know what to do with another woman. And Karel cannot be fond of a sun wolf like me." She frowned. "Caspian would not be fond of it, either."

Fern rolled her eyes. "Then someone else! Someone new. Here, who are these young men? I do not recognise them."

Netya followed her gaze to the small band of males approaching them. "Me neither."

"Then let us find out! Come, you go first, or else I shall take them all for myself." With another weary smile Fern pushed her friend in the direction of the newcomers. Even though she was no seer, perhaps she really did have the powers of a witch. Even on the night of the celebration, she seemed the only one capable of keeping the spirits of her sisters high and their furs well-filled with pleasurable company. To her, it seemed a gift every bit as important as the magic woven by the den mother.

—19—

Deep Passions

Even though he was curious to meet with a woman like Octavia for the first time, Caspian found his thoughts straying constantly back to Netya. He had not seen her at all that evening, and the ache of her absence was growing more pronounced by the day. Was she with Fern and the others now, enjoying the celebration to its fullest, gifting other men with the delights he seemed to have let slip through his fingers?

He ran a hand through his handsome locks of brown hair, quite oblivious to the inviting looks of the women he passed by on his way to Octavia's tent. He would play the role Adel had asked of him, as he was sure Netya was doing also. He only hoped his natural manner would be enough to entice the woman, for he had little stomach for the game of seduction that evening.

Several of Octavia's followers had joined the celebration, but a few still lingered within their camp. Guards for their leader, no doubt. When he approached the ring of spears that marked the edge of their territory he expected to be stopped, but the red-feathered warrior women merely acknowledged him with brief glances before nodding in greeting and gesturing to their leader's tent. It seemed Adel had sent word of her plans already. Caspian grimaced at the thought, feeling the same fiery itch beneath his skin that had stirred the night he challenged Karel.

The soft deerskin hide hanging over the entrance was warm beneath his fingers as he lifted it up, and warmer still was the space he stepped into. Braziers burned with a hot herbal fragrance, fogging the air with a scent that seemed to cling to his skin. He was bare-chested that evening, but he still wore boots and a kilt of hides.

Octavia had not undressed herself in the spirit of the celebration either, though she lounged on her fur-draped throne with her legs bare and only a light gown decorated with beads and grasses to cover herself.

"You do not come to me with your body exposed as a man should on the night of the summer fires," she observed as Caspian strode forward.

"I am not a pet like your alpha," he replied.

Octavia's eyes lit up when she heard the firmness in his voice, the woman swinging her legs up to kneel eagerly on the edge of her seat with a hint of feline seduction in her movements. "No, you are not, are you?" she whispered. "A man like you would never be permitted within my clan. You are the kind who brings pride, bloodshed, anger... All the things I have burned out of my pack."

"You make eager eyes at me for a woman who thinks so little of men."

"I do. But this is the night for such things, is it not? Even our darkest passions are exposed by the light of the summer fires." She parted her soft lips enticingly. Despite Caspian's distracted thoughts, he could not deny that she was beautiful. But a warning nudge from his inner wolf kept his guard up. According to Adel this woman was their friend, and yet the beast within him prickled with suspicion in her presence. It scented something on her that did not belong.

"You are a unique woman," he said, the grass mats crunching beneath his feet as he approached her throne. "I understand now why the alphas are so wary of you."

"And yet you are not."

A faint smile crossed Caspian's face. "I have known many unique women."

Octavia's eyes glazed with something caught between anger and uncontrollable lust. "Many women you have taken to sate your needs? Unique, wise, talented women, tempted in by your handsome face, then dragged to your furs where all talents but one are meaningless?"

Caspian halted at the edge of her throne, staring down into the woman's eyes. "You know very little of me."

"I could break you if I wanted," she said, eyes flicking minutely back and forth as they met his without blinking. "I learned that it is not only women who can be made slaves. Does that anger you to hear? Does it hurt the proud warrior to know that I took a man who should have been alpha and made him my pet?" She reached out to touch him, the sharpness of her fingernails biting at his skin as she ran her palm up his chest. "And I could do the same to you. I could. I would. But tonight I am all alone. Who is here to protect me from the vengeance of such a man?"

She was toying with him. Making a game of his feelings with a wit every bit as keen and vicious as Adel's. But this woman was not Adel. The den mother's eyes could hold a chill like the coldest ice, but Octavia's flickered and danced with wildfire. Uncontrolled, ruthless, and hot enough to burn. What Caspian did not know was whether the woman he looked upon now was the true Octavia, or just one of her many shades awoken by the passion of the celebration.

"Your warriors still guard this tent," he said.

"They know not to enter. The sounds of fur tearing, wood breaking, even my own screams," she shook her head faintly, "would not be enough to make them rise from where they sit." Her eyes closed slowly, the woman lost in her own heated vision. "The spirits allow it. On this one night, they let us speak the unspeakable. Until the sun rises, within this tent, you may do anything you please." She opened her eyes, piercing him with a gaze that matched the sting of her fingernails digging into his bare skin. "With the woman who would make slaves of men like you."

The heat in her voice was so genuine, so tempting, that Caspian's skin prickled in response. He had relished many intimate things over the years, but nothing like what Octavia was trying to lure him into. Even though he did not chase women as often as most, he enjoyed exploring ever more exotic pleasures with the special few he took a fancy to. Perhaps it was the essence of the celebration working its way into his thoughts, but he had to admit he was enticed.

The corner of Octavia's mouth curled slightly. "I can see you want it. So many men do, deep down, when they look inward. Take me. Do with me as you please. Whatever happens will never leave this tent."

Caspian raised his hand to her cheek, running a finger along the line of her jaw, before bringing it to her lips. He traced the outline of her soft mouth, feeling for the pulse and ebb of her body. Despite the woman's overt desire, there was still a tension in her, lingering like a coiled serpent beneath her skin. He felt it in there, buried deep, writhing ever more passionately in response to his touch. It was in the way she moved, the way she breathed, even in the subtle scent of her body. Tiny things that a less observant man would have overlooked, but that his wolf latched on to instinctively.

Octavia leaned forward, taking his finger into her mouth and sucking with a passion born of need, but tinged with fiery anger.

"You really would have me ravish you," he murmured, withdrawing his hand suddenly.

Octavia's eyes flashed open. She lunged at him, raking her fingernails down his sides so hard she almost drew blood. "Do it," she hissed. "Hate me for all I have done, punish me!"

Caspian batted one of her arms away with a growl of pain, the fire beneath his skin rising. In an instant he had his hand around her throat, gripping tight, as if holding a thrashing animal at bay. "Why? So that you may hate me in return? Is that what you think you need?" He bared his teeth, letting the wolf rear up inside him. "You truly are a unique woman, Octavia, and you are right. This is a night for dark passions." His voice was low, rumbling with the distant thunder of his inner beast. "I would do what you ask. I would. I will not lie, it tempts me. But only for a woman whose heart I knew." He released her, and a little of the wildness seemed to ebb from Octavia's body. She knelt there looking up at him, hands falling to clutch the edge of the throne. Her breast heaved with a sigh. Caspian expected anger, a redoubling of her efforts, perhaps even submission to his alpha authority. But the most powerful woman of the Moon People said nothing. He could not be sure, but he sensed the coiled anger in her fade. It was not gone, for it seemed an inexorable part of Octavia, but it settled enough for the woman's dark lust to falter.

"You are not the brute I took you for," she said after many long moments of silence.

"No, though it is hard for me to tell what I am these days." Caspian grimaced.

"You are not a slave to your den mother as my men are to me, or you would have done as she asked. Not a slave to your women, and yet not a brute who would use me as his plaything."

"Men like me are not so strange."

"Oh, but you are," Octavia said with a touch of bitterness.

"Not all of us would treat you and Adel as outcasts. Whether an alpha is a woman or a man—it matters not to me."

"Not all of you," she said, "but enough. You know it in your heart."

"It must be easier for you to believe that."

Octavia glared at him. "I wish I did not have to, but the world has taught me otherwise. You will learn it for yourself if you continue to follow Adel. She has their respect for now, but it will never be enough. Men—no, wolves—cannot stand for females to share their status. It is not in their nature."

"The world has not yet taught me the same lesson. Perhaps you are right, and perhaps it will, but that day has not come yet."

Octavia shook her head. "I think you are right in saying you do not know who you are, or what you want. Go, leave me. I shall find another man to take your place."

Caspian's blood still pumped with the surge of his wolf, and he felt himself pulled by his instincts more than the sense of his waking mind. The heated encounter had left him breathing heavily, stirred by the tension, the arousal, and the aggression. "No, I know what it is I desire this night, Octavia, but I will not find it here. For reminding me of that, you have my thanks."