Page 2 of Howling Love (Hunter’s Moon Ritual #1)

Gracie

The windows shook under the assault of the autumn wind as I stared uneasily at the dark gray clouds clustering above us. Thunder rumbled in the distance as I picked up the last potato in my bowl and started peeling.

The rain would be good for the water reservoirs, but during the last big storm, the mines had flooded. Six men were lost.

Not that it mattered to the Cold Moon Pack. Why worry about the lives of your laborers when you had so many? Especially if you could squeeze just a bit more work out of them before they drowned.

Disgust curdled in my stomach at the cruelty.

I hated this place.

Standing, I added the potatoes to the stock simmering on the stove. Alpha Ivan ate dinner at five on the dot every evening. If it sat out too long and grew cold—or if it was late—someone, namely me, would suffer. So my timing had to be perfect.

I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d landed a position in the Alpha’s house, and an easy one once I had overcome the learning curve of the cooking duties. But I wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Working here allowed me to stay invisible.

No one wanted to see the help, after all.

And it gave me the chance to make sure the leftover scraps were delivered to the children’s barracks on the east side of the compound. Not exactly against the rules…but not encouraged either.

I didn’t care. I was terrified of many things, but a punishment doled out for helping the children…that would be worth it.

Moving toward the cooler, I pulled out the prepared meat and brought it to the oven. While most of the kitchen sat cold and utilitarian—the metal surfaces and smell of boiled starches creating a cold shell—I’d managed to bring a little warmth into the room.

Many of the ceramic pots, pans, and baking dishes from the houses that had been raided nearby had been delivered to me for use. So the pale green casserole dish with the daisy pattern I used for the pot roast made me smile—just slightly.

I think those daisies were the only plants I’d seen outside of vegetables in years.

The land had revolted against the Cold Moon Pack, whether Ivan realized it or not.

No vegetation would grow. No animals would stay alive.

Everything had to be shipped in, because the place where we lived was dead. Starved of life, abandoned by Astaruun.

Even the people seemed like hollowed out husks.

For the past three years, I’d been sleeping in a servant barrack in the basement of the Alpha’s house, alongside four others. But the years I’d spent in the outer barracks—watching my mother slowly fade, worn down by starvation and cold—had left a permanent mark on me.

I hadn’t expected to survive long past her death.

So when the transfer of job placement happened two years later, I took that small token of luck and clung to it with everything I had.

I had no one in this world, not with both of my parents gone.

But some small part of me—minuscule, really—still hoped Owen was alive. That one day, I’d find him.

So for now, I survived in the cold shadows of the formidable Cold Moon Pack, doing what I could to make each day a little more bearable for those around me.

Even if they didn’t do the same.

“What are you doing?” Ravina’s voice snapped. Out of the four other servants that lived in the Alpha’s house, Ravina was the only one I interacted with often. She was also the only one I had major problems with. More accurately, she had major problems with me.

Closing the oven and turning toward her, I offered a small, polite smile. “Putting everything in for dinner.”

“You probably screwed it up, three-one-four,” she growled, rolling her eyes and heading to the fridge.

At twenty-five, four years my senior, Ravina liked to throw her dominance around, always trying to pull a reaction from me.

And using my old number like that—instead of the name I had earned when I moved into the Alpha’s house—was meant to humiliate me.

It wouldn’t work, though. I wouldn’t rise to the bait.

I knew exactly what happened when servants fought, and it ended with both of them dead.

“I left the salad to be done,” I offered, wiping my hands on my apron. I didn’t want to be enemies with Ravina, and I think in another life, we might have even been friends. Maybe.

Flicking her dark hair over her shoulder, she sat down at the table and began to chop vegetables, her pale fingers looking freshly bruised. I frowned as I instinctively moved closer. “Do you need something for your fingers?—”

“Fuck. Off.” Her brown eyes flashed with anger. “In fact, why don’t you go get the bounty from the shrine? Get out of my face.”

Inhaling sharply in frustration, I nodded and took off my apron.

It wasn’t worth the argument. I wasn’t particularly skilled at healing or medicine, but after having to treat my burns for so long after the raid, I’d picked up a few things.

But unless it was really bad, Ravina wouldn’t come to me.

There had been one time when she’d been beaten within an inch of her life… but we never talked about it.

I had a good idea who had hurt her hand—the guard she was ‘seeing’ hurt her often. I had a feeling their relationship wasn’t completely consensual, but we weren’t close enough for that conversation.

Not that either of us could do anything to stop it.

Walking out of the kitchen and through the back door, I caught my reflection in the window.

I barely even recognized myself in the foggy surface, my steps slowing to a stop.

Lifting my hand, I tugged my braid over my shoulder, the bright crimson color the only vibrancy I had left to me.

My pale skin looked chalky, and my cheeks had hollowed from not eating enough.

Even once-golden eyes looked dark now, as if the life had been drained out of me.

It didn’t help that I was only slightly over five feet, so in comparison to someone like Ravina, I practically disappeared.

It was as if I was a ghost. As if I had already died. I would argue that wasn’t such a bad thing, given my current situation.

Pushing open the door and refusing to wallow in my self-pity, I winced at the way my skin tugged on my left side.

Ten years later, and I still felt the pull of my scars.

From what I’d gathered, a third-degree burn like the one I suffered could have left me far worse off.

So a burn scar that stretched from my armpit down to my hip—puckered pink skin that would never be smooth—was the least of my worries.

It had just hurt like hell while it healed.

The burn had fried my nerves so badly that, at first, only the outer edges of the skin hurt.

But as it healed? While I was still forced to work in the camp, sorting through materials brought in from raids?

There were days I cried silently while I worked.

I’d tried to hide it from my mom because her hollow eyes told me she couldn’t have handled seeing that.

“Afternoon, Gracie.” The masculine voice made my stomach tighten uncomfortably, and I moved my gaze from the ground to Colyn. He was posted outside the Alpha’s house on watch and was directly in my pathway to the shrine.

“Afternoon,” I greeted, trying to shift my body as far from him as possible while slipping past on the stone pathway. When his hand wrapped around my arm and pulled me to a stop, I kept my face as neutral as possible, looking up at him.

“Where are you going?” he demanded. Colyn wasn’t unattractive, but the malice I could feel rolling off him was enough to make my stomach revolt. I knew—or had heard—how he treated the women he ‘favored’ like Ravina, and I wanted absolutely nothing to do with him.

“The shrine. I need to grab the bounty for Alpha Ivan’s dinner,” I said, keeping my spine as straight as I could.

If he made me late for Ivan’s dinner, he’d face consequences, and I saw the disappointment flicker in his gaze as he released my arm and let me go.

I practically scurried away, feeling a flicker of pride for managing not to shrink under his attention.

But damn, would I be thrilled if he never looked my way again.

The cracked concrete between the buildings would lead me directly to the shrine, so I kept my head down as I considered how much the compound had changed in the decade I’d been here.

When Alpha Ivan had first staged his coup, the compound had been new, the central and largest one of several that existed in the territory.

But the land had revolted against him, and while we were able to import many things, the lack of resources had taken its toll on the compound’s state.

From what I could tell, the Cold Moon Pack’s territory was far from a shining example of success.

That was probably why he kept us isolated.

This territory was one of eight within the country of Thornfell.

When I was growing up, it had flourished, blooming in every color imaginable across the vast landscape.

I’d never traveled to the other territories, but I’d heard stories and seen pictures in school.

Before the Cold Moon Pack stole our land, we’d lived like so many others under a ruling Alpha, but we had been able to trade, travel, and learn as we wished.

Now, the Cold Moon Pack had wrapped a chain-link fence with barbed wire around us. No one came in, and no one went out.

“Gracie, it’s good to see you.” Thalira said as I approached the shrine, where she stood in a dark navy robe tied at the waist. Alpha Ivan may not have believed in any sense of humanity or kindness, but he did seem to revere and fear the gods.

Because of that, the shrine in the center of the compound was filled with flowers and fruit, all imported from other territories.

Thalira was the high priestess of our compound, and she, with her limited influence, managed to take care of those around her—discreetly, of course.

“You too,” I offered softly, her warm brown eyes filling with affection. “Thank you, by the way.” I didn’t need to say for what. The leftover bounty the Alpha hadn’t asked for last week had gone directly to the children’s barracks.

“Come in,” she said, motioning me out of the cold winds and into the warmth of the small building.

Incense and the scent of fresh flowers filled my nose, and the warm glow of candles infused me with a sense of calm.

My gaze took in the walls covered in tapestries, depicting images of the goddess Nyxarra.

An altar stood at the front, symbols of the Mother of Shadows and Moonlight decorating the wooden surface.

In Thornfell, there were eight deities— The Eight —and it was said that each shifter felt a certain affinity toward one of them.

Astaruun, the Creator—the one who gave life—had always held my attention more than the others.

My parents had prayed to them as well. But now, that name wasn’t mentioned. Nyxarra was the only god worshipped.

My gaze found a statue of her, her moonstone eyes seeming to watch me.

A sense of awe and respect for the gods warred with what she represented to me.

I looked back at Thalira as she spoke in a hushed whisper.

“The goddess doesn’t always approve of those that follow her,” she said, as if sensing my thoughts.

It was clear she knew the truth about how I felt— I disliked Nyxarra because of Ivan’s obsession with her.

But maybe Thalira was right. Or maybe The Eight didn’t exist at all.

“I doubt they even listen,” I said honestly before offering her a small smile. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take the bounty back to the kitchen.”

“Of course.” She motioned for me to go, and I stepped forward to grab the basket in question, placing a blanket over it. Each week, the imported bounty of fruit was blessed and included in Alpha Ivan’s meals throughout the week.

My mouth watered as I looked down at the basket, whispering a quiet goodbye to the priestess. My stomach grumbled, but I didn’t allow myself the temptation to look under the blanket once more.

Tonight, like every night, I would get a bowl of gray mush and then go to sleep on a mattress thinner than my blanket.

It was just the way things were.

“Hurry, hurry,” Ravina hissed, poking her head out the door as I reached the Alpha’s house.

I thrust the basket forward as I followed her back into the kitchen.

The cart that would bring out his food was already set, and once she placed the basket on top to be presented to him, one of the other servants pushed it through the doors leading to Alpha Ivan’s private dining room.

Ravina let out a huff and sat down, shaking her head. “That was way too fucking close, three-one-four. He’s leaving tomorrow—this one had to be perfect.”

Alpha Ivan was leaving? That was amazing news. Hopefully he was visiting one of the other compounds, or even another territory. The longer he was gone, the more rest it meant for me—and for others.

“Go get some rest, Ravina,” I suggested softly. “I’ll handle the cleanup.”

Her face blanked at my unexpected kindness, then she let out a frustrated growl. For just a moment, I could feel her wolf rise up before she shoved it back down. She stormed off through the back door, and I watched her go with concern. Something was definitely wrong.

We may have been wolf shifters, but we had been taught that any show of our nature, whether in temperament or shifting, was explicitly forbidden.

There was barely a shadow of my own wolf left.

I knew she still existed, but the feeling of shifting?

The connection, the union with the creature inside me?

It would feel alien now. We weren’t shifters anymore.

We were bodies. Workers. Tools for the Cold Moon Pack.

The oddest thing about the Cold Moon Pack? It was relatively small. There were plenty of workers, but the actual pack members were a tight group of men at the top of the food chain—and the women they impregnated.

I would’ve called them mates , but no. That wasn’t the case.

I knew that mates were real, a sacred gift from The Eight. A way to find your match, your equal. But not here. Not under Ivan’s rule.

Here, women were bred. Used to produce pups. And then those pups were taken and placed into the children’s barracks, where they were trained to become soldiers. I was beyond thankful I hadn’t been propositioned yet.

The door to the dining room opened, and I realized I was still standing in place, deep in thought. My stomach twisted at the sight of Colyn stepping through.

Before I could say a word, he spoke—and what he said turned my blood to ice.

“Alpha Ivan would like to speak with you.”