Page 1 of Luna Trials

1

Aspen

“The 7thannualMating Seasonis shaping up to be another cutthroat competition.” Jay Renfro, America’s favorite wolf shifter TV show host, smiled at the camera. “We’ve got the latest rumors for the anticipated Alpha lineup and you’re not going to want to miss–”

Click.

“Papa! I’m home.” I tossed the remote onto the side table next to his ratty and well-loved recliner.

No answer.

I listened for the sounds of water running or him rustling around in the back of our little two-bedroom trailer. The house was quiet. But the door to the workshop outside squeaked on its hinges.

Damn that stubborn old wolf.

After marching across the yellowed and peeling linoleum floor of our little kitchen, I threw open the screen door and stormed through the yard.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” I growled. My fist beat against the plywood door to the workshop, rattling the chain he just locked. The Polaris ATV was parked outside and the scent of gasoline still hung heavy in the air.

Which meant my papa was trying to give me a heart attack today. “If you don’t open this door, I’m taking your chair.”

Muffled curses came from inside the shop as he hobbled himself over and removed the chain. Honey brown eyes not much different from mine stared down at me under the bushy gray eyebrows that matched his beard. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” I squared my shoulders and planted my hands on my hips. My 5’10 height wasn’t short by female human standards, but like most of the male shifters in our pack, my papa was a few inches over six-feet. “You’re not allowed to be running the trapline right now.”

“Don’t come in here and start that shit with me, Aspen.” He leaned on the table as he hopped over to the workbench. The leg of his pants was knotted just below the knee. It was growing back, but too slow for my liking. Wolf shifters healed fast. Still, regrowing an entire limb took time.

Papa turned his back to me. His broad shoulders were hunched with age, but they filled the seams of his green flannel shirt. A beaver carcass lay spread open on the table under the bones and animal furs stretched to dry on the wall.

The stench of death filled the workshop. It was a smell I’d grown up with and could tolerate... barely. My papa didn’t hesitate as he sliced open the rodent, spilling its guts on the table. He was cut from a different cloth. Rougher than most. With a stronger stomach than mine.

But he was still my papa. “You put that beaver down and get your butt inside the house before I call Dr. Greenwood.”

“You’d rat on me.” His jaw dropped in betrayal.

“I sure would.” I pressed my lips into a thin line and tried not to smile. He had a beastly exterior, but my papa was really a teddy bear.

At least to me.

“If I don’t get this sac out, it’s going to rot.”

“Chuck it in the freezer and…” I gagged a little as he yanked the castor glands from the open cavity. Squeezing my eyes shut, I breathed through my mouth. Having wolf senses really sucked when you were trying not to smell something.

“You’re not supposed to be out working. Dr. Greenwood said to stay off your foot and let your leg heal.” I pinched my nose. We weren’t even sure if it’d ever fully grow back, but pushing himself to the limit wasn’t going to do any good.

“I’m not out working.” He flashed a grin over his shoulder. “I’m here at home where the doctor and my granddaughter are holding me hostage.”

Goddess help me. “Then explain the beaver.”

“Must have fell from the sky.” He shrugged.

“Inside. Now.” I growled, pulling out his wheelchair from the corner of the shed.

He sank down onto the chair with a frustrated huff. “This is the thanks I get for working my tail off to put food on the table and money in the bank.”

“First of all, you don’t use banks. You put your money in a tin can.” I grabbed the beaver by the tail and moved it to the deep freezer.

Papa pressed a calloused and blood-stained finger over his lips.

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