The Midwife's Moon Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Biography

  The Midwife’s Moon

  The War of the Weres, Book 2

  Leona Bushman

  Breathless Press

  Calgary, Alberta

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

  persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The Midwife’s Moon

  Copyright © 2013 Leona Bushman

  ISBN: 978-1-77101-160-0

  Cover Artist: Fiona Jayde

  Editor: Deadra Krieger

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations

  embodied in reviews.

  Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  This story is dedicated to my mother in law whose belief in me knows no bounds. To my husband who has worked hard so I can stay home with the kids as well as write. To my editors, may you always be around for my typos. To my editor Deadra for helping me make this story come through and being very patient as I changed the ending—drastically.

  I’d like to acknowledge all the reviewers and readers who’ve helped make this series a success, and say thank you for loving to read.

  I’d like to reiterate, that this story, though set on the reservation, is of my own creation. The names of rites and rituals within the pack have the flavor of the Native Americans, and get their root words from the old language, but are not from that culture. The characters, the rituals, and the story are creatures of fiction and from my imagination.

  I have included a cast of characters, and lists of words and places used in the series for your convenience. Happy reading.

  Chapter One

  Her heart beat out a rhythm with the wind. Her lover. Her first. Her last. Her only. He had been tender this night. The love singing in her heart flowed through her and took her awareness to overdrive. The moon’s silver rays swept softly down her skin, gently highlighting the swells of her breasts as her fingers trailed down her body like a lover’s caress. Blood trickled down her neck and shoulder—a lingering kiss from her werewolf. Her affinity with the Earth intensified as she opened her soul to the night.

  But the night was dark.

  There were monsters in the night. Some would say she had become one of them, those who did not understand that monsters were good and evil, the same as humans.

  Feeling as if she and her paramour had finally found the same plane of higher emotions, of deeper connections, she looked at her werewolf with great fondness. Usually sex was rough and left her wanting something she didn’t know how to identify. However, tonight he’d showed her thoroughly what lovemaking could do to her body. So caught up in her euphoria, it took several heartbeats for her to see her lover’s jerky, swift movements for what they were. His clothing and shoes were being put on in the same hurried way students threw things in backpacks and rushed out of college classes like the ones she’d just completed.

  The walls of the bubble of euphoria began to thin but not shatter. For had he not just made her like him so they could be together always? Three kisses of the werewolf, three bites, blood flowing, she would be a werewolf with longer life, and they could be married. He had made her promise not to tell anyone of their relationship, saying certain people wouldn’t understand his love of a human and try to stop their joining—violently.

  She loved him wholly and feared people hurting him because they were unable to accept her being different. It had taken months, but he had finally convinced her the only way they could be together was to make her like him.

  Werewolf.

  Tonight was the third bite. The next full moon, three days from now, she would be a werewolf. Excitement flooded her, causing her heartbeat to race as scattered leaves on the ground in the breeze. He would be with her, welcoming her into her new life.

  She stood, unashamed of her nakedness, and placed her body so her petite, womanly form silhouetted against the moon, hiding her face in planes of harsh darkness. He turned to her, the cold moonlight awash on his features. In an instant, his soul opened to hers, and she saw empty obscurity, shallow feeling in his eyes, lust for her form, but none for her inner soul.

  That moment, that realization, that was when her bubble burst and a dam of icicles slammed through her body. She stood there and posed in all her glorious nakedness—one final look for her deceitful lover. A sad smile flitted across her face as the last vestige of her innocence washed away from her. Her heart became incased in the icicles, frozen and guarded by shards.

  She watched him finish dressing himself. When he pulled his shirt on, his last article of clothing, she donned her white gown which flowed around her in gentle sways as it settled into place. Earlier, as she had dressed for her time with him, she had prepared as if for her wedding night. For her, it had been the same thing. She was making a lifelong commitment to change what she was—literally—for the man she loved.

  Now the grotesque reminder of her foolish innocence swished softly in the gentle breeze at odds with the sharp pain in her heart. “When will I see you again?” she asked quietly. Maybe she’d read him wrong. No. Her heart knew better, but her mind could not—would not—accept it. She needed the words.

  “I don’t know. They’re watching me. I can’t put you in danger,” he said without looking at her.

  “At least for the full moon?” she insisted. Dear God, he won’t leave me alone for that, will he?

  “What?” He looked up at her quizzically. “Oh, yes. Of course, I’ll see you for that. Regular place and time,” he said as he put the finishing touches on tying his shoes. He left her standing there, the moonlight shining through her dress as if to caress her and welcome her into its embrace despite the way the man had left her.

  He’s not coming.

  Her heart contracted in fear, but she told herself he wouldn’t do that to another, even if he planned on leaving her. No one would do that.

  ***

  The first night of the full moon, she showed up at the regular place. She waited in fear, apprehension growing at the unknown awaiting her. Minute by minute her dread grew even though she tried to hold back the terror at being alone. What if I die? What if I kill someone? With a newly found ruthlessness, she squashed those thoughts, telling herself he had to come.

  But he did not show.

  Soon after moonrise, her scalp began to itch. Absently, she scratched it, but her hands began to hurt. She rubbed them until her skin crawled with prickles of sharp, tender points. Her bones began aching, and she dropped to her knees as anxiety swamped her. What’s happening to me now? Trepidation rolled through her causing her stomach to be queasy, so she sat back and tried laying her head on her knees to breathe through it.

  Her body was on fire.

  Her vision changed, moving from color, to
washed out, to something in between, which told her color, but more. The pounding in her head increased, and she crawled to the nearby pine tree and began scratching her back against it to get to the itch there. Her whole body was the fuel and the moon the flame until an inferno danced within her in a macabre volley keeping her at a frenzy between human and not.

  What have I done?

  ***

  In his wolf form and hiding behind a tree, Lance Navarro watched the beautiful woman from a distance. What was she doing in an open clearing, alone, in the middle of the night? He mentally shrugged and turned to find an animal for their pack leader, Roxy Whitekiller, before she sent someone after him and punished him.

  He shuddered. Her retributions were harsh when beatings and scratches, and worse when they were...not. A small whimper left him as he remembered the last session of punishments Boris helped with. He took two steps then stopped as the breeze ruffled his fur. It wasn’t all that ruffled him.

  Her.

  His heart raced, saliva built up in his mouth, and a quickening started in his loins. He wanted her, but how? His wolf wanted the woman as his mate. It couldn’t be. She was a human. He knew all the local werewolves, and he didn’t recognize her.

  Almost against his will, the wolf side of him turned back to the woman it insisted was its mate. Lance crouched low and crept back to the clearing, this time moving closer to her position. She had moved so her back was against a tree and rubbed her body hard against the rough bark. The breeze wafted over him again, welcome on the warm summer night, but this time her essence contained—wolf.

  His heart screamed in tortured happiness and denial. She couldn’t be. The only freedom he had from Roxy was she had no mate to threaten when he threw up his little rebellions. He didn’t know how he would cope if there was a mate close enough for Roxy to torture. His beast roared inside.

  No! Roxy would never touch his mate.

  He lifted his head once more over the brush to see what she was doing and panicked. She’s gone!

  Even though he felt an urgent need to run, he forced himself to look carefully into the clearing before slowly coming out of hiding. He had to be careful because they were in the neutral territory between his own pack, the Lupins, and the Wahpawhats. They weren’t supposed to hunt or feed in the area, nor were they allowed to mark their territory as a wolf. Even owning land under human laws entered shaky ground.

  When he could detect no sounds or other scents, he went to the tree she had been sitting near and took a large sniff of the tree. He closed his eyes, and his torn and shattered soul sighed as he found hope again even as he took another deep breath of her essence. Ambrosia. But where did she go?

  Putting his muzzle to the ground, he started sniffing around then froze. Under her scent, he caught the scent of the weasel from the Wahpawhat tribe who fed Roxy information now and then. Lance wracked his brain for the name while he followed the scents, and it soon came to him—Joseph. Her scent never wavered from the other man’s, and jealousy started to worm its way into his mind. As they headed deeper into Lupin territory, he became sure the woman followed Joseph’s scent.

  Joseph had a mate and had married her not too long ago, if Lance remembered correctly. He recalled Roxy laughing and saying the poor woman, Joseph’s new wife, was stuck with a cowardly snake. Roxy had also mentioned how she would eat a man like Joseph before being stuck with him and in fact, had done that very thing. Then she’d laughed as if it were a big joke, but Lance knew things. He had seen her eating another wolf in a vision before her mate died. It had been his first clear vision, at age sixteen.

  He’d run away the night he’d had that vision, scared of himself, frightened of his nightmares. Only when Roxy’s mate turned up dead, did he realize his dreams and nightmares were not like others. It had taken him a couple of years to learn how to determine dreams from visions, but he had.

  Now though, he increased his tracking pace. He didn’t need to be a soothsayer to know what Roxy would do to another woman trespassing on her land. Although he wasn’t considered a strong alpha in their pack, he would defend the stranger, with his life if need be. Frustration gnawed at him the farther he went without finding her. How far could she have gone?

  Chapter Two

  At first, Lisa Sanchez had fought the change, not wanting it without her lover, but the pull of the moon had sung to her, promising her fulfillment, calling to her lonely heart. With a dejected sigh, she’d given in. As she gave herself over to the chorus of the moon’s rhapsody, the transition tore at her. Pain screeched through her as she experienced the breaking of her bones—most of which she could name thanks to her midwife classes.

  Her skin stretched and pulled across new shapes, the extreme agony thrusting through her in great waves as each new thing happened. Then a strange disconnection began as she pulled from the pain, and she started thinking of the whole process as a science experiment. However, she was no longer alone within her skin. Now there was also another.

  And that other was wolf.

  The beast sprang forth to consciousness, reveling in the moonlight. She held back the howl that wanted to burst from her then a familiar scent on the hard ground caught the beast and the woman’s full attention. That ratfink, vile-betrayer Joseph. Growling low as she put her nose to the ground, she followed his trail at a jog. She would find him and demand an answer.

  The new power flowed through, feeling hot, then cold, then hot again, like white lava flowing over frozen tundra. As one layer cooled, she became aware of another. The stride of the wolf was different from a human’s. She wobbled in much the same way she’d seen a new fawn do during her child years. That movie had turned her into a vegetarian and what a mess it had caused her mother.

  Bambi didn’t sound half-bad right now. Her mind balked, but her mouth watered at the thought of eating deer. She slowed her jog. When contemplating becoming a werewolf with her lover, she hadn’t considered the alteration in her eating wants if she changed.

  After a small stutter in her walk, she had to stop for a second and clench her muscles. Then she put her butt in the air, pushed backward on her hind legs, and stretched her forelegs. What a glorious stretch! Her body felt so alive—every molecule seeing, smelling, tasting, for the first time.

  Joseph’s scent was strong on the ground as if he used the same path many times. She caught a whiff of his more personal scent more than once. Ew. She left a quick overspray everywhere she caught whiff of his territorial markings. The foliage became thicker the farther she went. The aroma of evergreens strong in her nose. Pine Sol just didn’t compare to the real thing. A couple of times, she nearly forgot her chosen path as she sniffed an interesting scent that a part of her said would be fun and maybe even tasty.

  The padding on her feet sent signals to her brain she was slow to identify. Right, front, left, back. How in heaven’s name could she keep track of so many legs moving at once? The ground beneath her paws was cool under the canopy of branches and soft with hundreds of layers of fallen needles. So many new sensations, including the realization her muscles hurt from the unaccustomed exercise.

  Lisa slowed as her body began to show signs of fatigue—lethargic muscles—but she was determined to find Joseph and confront him. She ignored her labored breathing, the sore on her paw from a sharp stick, and kept going. Before long, she limped but didn’t stop. Her mind became focused on finding Joseph, and not even the smell of food could tempt her away.

  Deeper into the green woods she tracked, her wolf telling her she didn’t need to worry. She would find her way home the same way she came. The silvery moon peeked through the tree branches as if to watch over her new child of the night. She discovered a newfound comfort in the darkness, a sense of safety she wouldn’t have felt in her human form.

  She forgot, for the moment, that even wolves have their predators.

  How many miles she trekked searching for her lover, she never knew. On she went. The crisp air, the scuttle of rodents, the wing song of the
night owls surrounding her comforted her wolf, letting her know she was safe. But the fatigue finally overwhelmed her. She needed to eat. Joseph’s scent winded around after the initial straight path from the clearing, and she didn’t have enough experience to tell the freshest trail from the older ones.

  Hunger gnawed at her ribs. Her mind’s focus changed, and the smell of fresh meat tainted the air. Lifting her noise, she sniffed twice. It was close. Saliva dripped from her jaw, and she broke into an uneven run in the direction of the meat. There!

  She pounced on the meat, put one paw on it, and jerked a huge hunk of bloody, red flesh into her mouth. So satisfying. Her human mind rebelled at the goodness, but the wolf won the day. She put more pressure on the meat to hold it in place for tearing. Something clicked, then snapped as ragged pain tore through her forepaw still on the meat. Hard metal encased her paw in jagged teeth meant to entrap. Inside, she cried tears of pain until she could stand the silence no more and howled. The sound vibrated in the hills, the morose cry as lonely as her heart.

  Lisa pulled against the metal, trying to use her other foreleg to push the teeth far enough apart to get her injured leg out, but she tried to use her wolf paws the same way as she would use her human hands. Panic started to swell. The beast in a trap. Hunters and other animals of the night, which she recalled with sudden clarity, might get her at any time.

  Hadn’t someone mentioned cougar sightings lately? In her panic, she couldn’t remember where. Her tongue lolled out the side of her mouth as she panted. The frantic need to be free welled up into terror, and she began to gnaw on her leg. She had to get out of the trap. Extremely tired and with blood oozing out, she passed out before being able to free herself. As she lost consciousness, she thought a shadow moved toward her, then her eyes swayed shut against her will.

  ***

  The howl of loneliness and pain rang through the forest, its plea for help clear—and definitely a female wolf. Lance panicked at the idea of Boris finding his mate and hurting her before he could find her. He broke into a run in the direction of the howl.