Blood Moon (MalexMale Paranormal Fantasy)

Chapter 6 ∞ DAIRE

The young male's gaze flicks between me and the omicron wolf. "So, how do we get an olirie plant?"

Omicron clucks his tongue in thought. "It's not indigenous here, you'll have to go to Serpent Valley to look for some in the markets."

Rainer scratches at his irritated skin. "Serpent Valley? That's almost a day's hike from here."

I grin and the expression feels odd directed at a wolf. "Am I the first vampyre you've met?"

His eyes narrow, and eventually he nods, trying to figure me out.

My grin widens. "We're faster than you think. I'd be happy to get it for you."

"How fast?" His tone drips with doubt, and the urge to challenge him to a race is overwhelming.

The omicron chuckles and drops Rainer's arm. "About ten times faster than any wolf."

"Twenty." I smirk and wink. "Come back tomorrow morning. I'll have it then."

"Tomorrow morning?" His probing gaze sweeps me from head to foot until a smile emerges, teeth bright and remarkably straight. "Alright, vampyre. We'll see what you can do."

He disappears out the door and I savor the surge of life blown into the room, thankful to have a task that will keep me outside of Mt. Elant and able to ask about any new information from the east. The lycan merchants who visit the communal markets make a healthy living from charging for knowledge they collect from pack to pack.

The omicron's arm is unexpectedly firm as he slings it around my shoulders. It's more contact than I'm used to from a stranger, but, to my surprise, I don't mind it. "Let's walk to the pack market for breakfast and pick up any supplies you'll need for your trip to the valley. And take this." He hands me a knife; its short, thick blade sheathed in worn leather.

"I'm grateful, but I have my own blades." I pat the knives at my hip then point to my fangs. "And this soon after a full moon, I'd wager most wolves are still recovering."

"Not all of them. And as you well know, these are tenuous times. The valley is outside of pack lands, it's communal wolf territory and known for its pockets of trouble." He nods toward the emblem burnt black into the soft brown sheath. "That's the mark of our pack. You show it to anyone who asks." He holds out the knife again in insistence. "And we should have Zane mark his scent on you before leaving."

Armed with a lick and a blade.

"Thank you," I say as I trace the emblem, the same symbol emblazoned on the wooden signs marking the trail into their lands. "I'm ready to go when you are."

∞   ∞   ∞

I hustle up the root-laden trail leading out of Serpent Valley, refusing to appear as anxious as I am to get out of here. This merchant's slum appears more like another planet rather than the nearest communal market to a pack as stable as the Silver Bloods. The strong floral fragrances used to overpower the stink of abundant refuse lingers in my nose. Surely, there is aid to be given to the half-starved rogue wolves crowding the valley who appear to only be awaiting Satu's reapers.

I'm almost to the tree line out of sight of the valley when I know I'm being followed. I slow my pace, luring them nearer, energized by the prickling at the base of my neck. Then I'm gone, launching into a nearby tree and moving between branches before dropping down in front of a young female, face gaunt, clothes ratty and caked in mud.

She blanches away from the knife I press toward her throat. "Why are you following me?"

Her voice trembles as she says, "Are you the master warder who was asking about news from the east?"