Chapter 20
Self Discovery
The early morning brought the usual chill, a thick fog settling around camp.
Raven calls replaced the mourning doves high in the thick canopy of pines and oaks.
I sat fully clothed on a log away from the smelly werewolf pile I’d been a part of earlier, all of them snoring and twitching next to smoldering embers.
My mind was a jumbled mess. Being out in the middle of the forest with no amenities terrified me, but not for the expected reasons. There were no modern world distractions, and there was nothing to clean. All I had to occupy myself was my mind, which I was too ashamed to face.
I looked down at my bare feet. A few weeks ago, I could have sworn they were normal.
Everything happened so gradually that my brain hadn’t kept up with all the changes—it adapted naturally.
Shoes had been impossible to wear over the last few days because of the claws that had grown in place of my toenails.
They were longer and hooked, and the calluses on my soles had thickened and turned a darker color like the pads on fully turned werewolf feet.
I teetered on the edge of embarrassment as I tried to remember last night, but the images in my head didn’t make any sense sober.
It was almost like those memories were encrypted and the only way to unlock them was to smoke more of whatever herb that was.
Seeing how Roscoe had been so eager to trade for drugs instead of information only disappointed me further.
I never expected him to change completely, but I’d at least thought he’d show a little more interest in helping me instead of getting high.
A rough hand landed on my shoulder, startling me. I jumped off the log and turned toward the taller of the wild werewolves wearing his leather harness and sacks. He hadn’t made a sound, and his gray fur made him look more like a specter floating through the fog.
“Uh…” I tried to think of something to say, but I doubted he would understand me now. “Good morning?”
He smiled and gestured to the log before sitting. His expression and body language were different from last night. Taking the place of narrow suspiciousness was wide-eyed curiosity, his tail gently scraping against the bark as I sat next to him.
The werewolf reached into his leather pouch and pulled out a pinch of the herb before placing it in front of my face.
“No,” I said, pushing it away. “No trade.” After last night, I didn’t want to risk doing anything more. The high had lasted so long I probably wouldn’t be able to get home.
His tail swayed a little more as he held the herb in front of my face again. This time, he pretended to take a pinch of the stuff before dropping it into his mouth. He wanted me to eat it?
I shook my head, but he insisted again, this time with a more impatient grimace.
There was no way to avoid this without making him angry, and I still wasn’t sure what terms we were on.
Taking in a deep breath, I took a pinch of the herb and placed it on my tongue.
The werewolf caught my cheeks, holding my mouth open.
Confused, I tried to pull away, but his grip was too tight.
He scooped the substance out of my mouth with his thick, clawed fingers before placing the stuff under my tongue.
Every gland in my mouth seemed to open at once, and the trickle of morning sunlight beaming through the fog turned into a wobbly prism of pastels.
“Do not chew,” he said, letting go of my face. “Hold under tongue so that the effect only last until you spit.”
The world grew brighter and a deluge of memories flooded my brain. The scenery around us darkened to exactly how it was last night, and the hallucinations turned to visions of events that actually played out.
“How the hell did I not notice?” asked a blurry version of me while parting the fur along Roscoe’s stomach to reveal a couple sets of extra nipples. Of all the scenes that could have played out, it was the most disturbing.
“When’s the last time you were down there?” Roscoe asked in that strange, stilted accent.
“I’m always down there. I just never saw ’em!”
“Well, you’re looking into the future, bud—”
The scenery melted into a bunch of flaming blobs before reforming into an all-out orgy. The tall one in the harness was behind one of the younger ones, thrusting while the other three gathered together in front of me.
“Fuck me!” I demanded, my features turning wild as the half-turn temper boiled to the surface, causing the werewolves around me to grow excited and impatient. My face grew hot with embarrassment as I turned into everything I despised. This wasn’t me. This couldn’t be me, right?
Watching from a third person perspective really brought to light the half-turn state I couldn’t escape, but it also made me remember everything Mosavi had warned me about.
This wasn’t just me wanting sex—it was something more akin to eating or drinking.
It was vital to my survival, and it was the Whasha that awakened it.
The feral in the middle lost himself in the moment, grabbing me by the hips, fully intending to give me exactly what I wanted, but Roscoe shot up and faced the wild werewolf head-on.
“No,” he growled, pulling me into his arms. The feral bared his teeth, and he stood roughly a foot taller.
Roscoe was not a confrontational person, especially when the physical odds weren’t in his favor, but he firmly held his ground.
Before either of them could scuffle, the larger, harnessed werewolf pulled away from his mate and stood between the two, shoving away the frustrated feral before nodding to both of us.
The vision faded, except for a rippling haze as my eyes watered. Roscoe had lied when he said he’d get off on watching them have their way with me. He was ready to fight to keep that from happening, and the disappointment from earlier melted into the rest of the colors.
“He didn’t let them do it.”
“Good mate you have,” the feral said, placing his finger close to his mouth. “No chewing. No swallow, only spit.”
I nodded as I repositioned the small wad of slobbery herbs to the other side of my mouth before spitting the excess saliva.
“I need to ask you a question,” I said, turning to face him again.
He nodded.
“Were you with the ones I met the first time in the forest?”
He nodded again.
“Then why did you guys almost attack us last night?”
“We test the fat one there to see if he remembers what to do.” He pointed at Roscoe’s ankle bracelets. “Those were given to him by Whasha.” His speech seemed to sync more with his lips, his words less broken. “You should be feeling the full effects by now.”
“I—damn. What the hell is going on?”
“It is a lot to explain, but I am sure you’ve been told some of it by that elder who pretends.”
“Mosavi?”
“So that is the name he has chosen.”
“That’s not his name?”
The feral slowly cracked a knowing smile. “He consorts with witches and pretends to be the opposite of what he is. He is a living contradiction, and the reason I stay in these woods so close to town.”
“Why?”
His eyes flashed a brilliant silver before fading as he looked down at me. “What do you feel?”
I shrugged. “I don’t understand the question.”
His irises flashed again, this time remaining pure silver, just as Mosavi’s had that night he’d taken control of Roscoe.
“What are you doing?”
Once again, his eyes faded to their original amber. “That is why he chose you.”
“The vironoct?” His face nearly touched mine, so I pushed him back. “I just want to be left alone so I can try to put my life back together. I need to know what to do about Mosavi.”
The werewolf cocked his head. “Is your life broken?”
“Yes!” I shouted, nearly swallowing the herbs by accident. “Ever since this happened.” I pointed to my sharp teeth and pointed ears. “I can’t start the career I want. I’m slowly turning into a monster. I can’t seem to catch a break, and now Mosavi is threatening me.”
The feral’s warm stare turned to ice. He wrinkled his nose.
“What?” I asked.
“Go back to the Midna.”
“I need your help.” My tone was nicer this time, and I grabbed his arm. “Take me to your alpha… or chief or whatever. I think he knows how to counter Mosavi’s magic with those stones.”
“The stones break a witch’s enchantments. What Mosavi gave you was not our magic. It is not our way.”
The hair on my arms stood straight as a familiar scent caught my nose. It was irresistibly potent, just like Mosavi’s.
“You’re like him, aren’t you?”
He said nothing before reaching into his pouch.
“What is the life you want, Cody?”
The question surprised me, and the answer caught in my throat before spilling out like vomit.
“I want everything to go back to the way it was before I went half-turn. I want my career and a lot of money so I can have a future.” Though I was passionate in my response, there was something in my chest that ached.
The werewolf snarled this time. “Go back to the Midna.”
“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t help me!”
“You do not want our help. You should seek his.”
I balled my fists and slammed them hard into the log. “That’s the entire reason we’re here!”
“And what is it you want me to do?”
“I…” The words I really wanted to say disappeared as quickly as I could think of them, so I shook my head. “I just need something to keep Mosavi away from me so we can go back to the city.”
The werewolf stood and looked over at his pack before giving a grunted yip. The others in camp stirred awake, pushing a still-sound-asleep Roscoe to the side.
“You’re really not going to help me, are you?” I asked. “Just tell me what I need to do.”
He took my hand and pressed a bundle of herbs firmly against my palm.