Page 2 of Luna Trials
I laughed as I grabbed the bent handles on the wheelchair. “No one is going to hear me.”
Not all the way out here.
We lived on the outskirts of the Nuva Pack territory in Nevada, about as far away from the prison as we could get, in the little singlewide trailer at the end of a dirt road. It was a good location, nestled just below the foothills of the high desert valley where a few streams and wooded area provided the animal life necessary to sustain the traps.
And we didn’t usually eat the meat my papa caught from the trapline unless it was a rough month. That food went to Holton Penitentiary–the maximum-security prison for shifters which was basically the only reason our hillbilly pack was on the map.
“Second, I bring in money too,” I said as I wheeled him through the yard. “You can afford to take a few days off.”
Papa folded his arms across his chest and stared straight ahead. “I already told you to keep it for yourself. I don’t need your money.”
He did. Taxes were due on the trailer soon. The shower had a leak we needed to repair. Dr. Greenwood wasn’t free and the extra consultations cost… literally a leg. But Papa had too much pride to admit that animal furs didn’t fetch the price they used to, especially when Alpha Derek got his share of the cut.
Which made every cent I saved to buy our freedom that much harder to keep.
I parked the chair outside the kitchen door and helped my papa lift it into the house. We really needed to build a ramp, but he refused to consider himself a “lame wolf.” Even though he’d been using the chair since early summer and we were just getting through winter now.
“You turned off my show,” he said as he wheeled himself into the living room.
“It wasMating Seasongarbage.”
“Mating season?” There was a little gleam in his smile as he looked to me. “Spring will be here before you know it.”
“One month.” I nodded. And three days, four hours.
But who was counting?
Me. I was counting.
I’d been counting since I first went into heat.
Every year in the days leading up to the Worm Moon–the first quarter moon signaling spring–when females went into heat and the males to rut, our wolves took over and the unmated members of the pack were forced to run together in the hopes we’d take a chosen mate.
I’d survived four heats so far. I just needed to make it one last season and freedom awaited. If my wolf didn’t decide on a chosen mate by my fifth heat, I could petition the human government for dual citizenship to get me and my papa the hell away from this pack.
“Maybe this will be the year your wolf finally settles down.” Papa locked his wheelchair and lifted himself, turning to sit on his recliner.
Fat chance.My wolf snorted in my head.
“You know that isn’t what I want.” I forced myself to stand back, to not help him get comfortable. He hated when I fussed over him. And he also hated this conversation. He was stubborn, clinging to this pack, but I was stubborn too.
“I know you haven’t found him yet.” Papa laid back onto his favorite chair with a tired sigh, redirecting the topic to stop us from goingthereagain. “But you’ll change your mind when you meet your mate.”
His eyes got that glossy look they always did when he glanced up at the picture on the wall of my gram before she’d died. Everyone said I looked like her. Same build, lean shoulders but thicker in the hips, with mousey brown hair and a pert nose dotted with freckles. But I got my papa’s and my father’s brown eyes instead of her glacier blue ones.
“We can’t all be lucky enough to find our fated mates.” I laughed, moving the wheelchair back so he could pull out the footrest.
“It didn’t use to be that way.” Papa adjusted his legs just right. “We all used to be so lucky.”
I needed to make dinner but I sat on the armrest of the recliner instead. In truth, I loved hearing about thegood old days.
“Back when Alphas didn’t televise choosing their Lunas,” I teased to get him started.
“Oh, that’s just good, cheap entertainment.” He chuckled. “But the Alphas always met in a central location for mating season. It’s the way the world is now with all these packs and the human government and rapid breeding that muddies the chance of finding your fated. Back when I met your gram, she was just over those hills. It was destined for us to bump into each other.”
“That’s not what you told me.” I feigned indignation, placing my hand over my heart. “You said, and I quote, ‘I would have traveled the world chasing her scent, knocked on every door, crossed every pack border, nothing would stop me from finding my fated mate.’”
It was still my favorite love story.