Page 24 of Royal Protector

As we exit, vampires and werewolves gather in groups near one of the walking trails for visitors. A group of witches that Leo hired have ensured the park is human-free, warded away by temporary spells.

Another dozen spells have been put in place to warn us about any intruders into the area where we will be running. Even so, Antoine glares at every tree and shadow as if they are about to jump out and tackle me to the ground.

Leo claps his hands as the buses finally empty, calling everyone’s attention to him as he stands on a picnic table. “Ladies and Gentlemen!” he shouts, ever the perfect showman. “Welcome to the Jean LaFitte Nature Preserve! I’d like to welcome all our visiting leaders to this beautiful example of our local terrain and wildlife. As you run tonight, don’t forget to take in the sights; the marshes, the hardwood forest, and the swamps. I only ask that you watch out for the alligators. They aren’t invited on this run.”

He winks at Jack, who rolls his eyes good-naturedly and takes over, trading places with Leo on the picnic table.

“I know this is a new and strange activity for some of you, and I don’t mean our vampire friends,” he says, his gaze trailing over his audience. “Traditions are meant to evolve and transform, and there is no greater tradition for werewolves than our monthly run under the full moon, together as a pack. Tomorrow, Leo and his family will host us for one of their banquets, sharing one of their favorite traditions with the werewolves. We do this in order to both understand and honor each other so that we can continue to work toward a better future. And on that note . . .” Jack pulls his red t-shirt over his head, revealing his muscular torso to everyone.

“Dramatic ass,” mutters Antoine next to me, but he’s smiling, even as he too begins to take off his jacket and jeans.

All around us, werewolves are undressing, folding their garments into neat piles to be retrieved at the end of the run. Nudity holds no shame with us when it comes to shifting; in fact, it is a necessity, or we’d all go broke with the amount of clothing we’d have to buy.

The only difference with my upbringing is that for me, nudity was only meant for shifting, and nothing more. Showing myself to another for reasons of pleasure is considered a sin. Who knows what Martina would say about what Antoine and I did in the closet a few days ago.

The vampires have no shame about nudity either, but that’s because they thrive on sexual activity and ambience. This trait was my only concern about the shared run, but other than a vampire here or there looking ravenously at a fellow werewolf, it doesn’t look like we’ll have too many issues.

Within moments though, I am proved wrong. A young werewolf male in his late twenties suddenly yells, and the smack of flesh on flesh is heard. Then, voices begin buzzing around us, interspersed with angry shouts and curses.

Jack and Leo run toward the commotion, only to pull an equally young vampire off of the werewolf, who had been unable to control his lust and had fondled him inappropriately.

Leo takes his vampire off to the side for a good reprimand, and the young man looks relatively chastened. He sends an apologetic look to the werewolf he jumped, and peace descends on us again, at least for a few minutes.

I wore a simple set of yoga pants and a tank top for tonight’s run. As I strip down, the muggy air of the preserve hits me like a blanket, and I inhale the sweet smells of the local fauna.

When I remove my bra and underwear, I glance toward Antoine, who is looking at me like I’m a morsel of his favorite food.

I allow myself a small smile, but nothing more. We don’t know who is watching us interact. I fold up my clothes, and kneel on the dewy grass, giving my body permission to shift into my wolf.

My bones crack and readjust easily, and fur sprouts along my spine and limbs until I’m completely shifted into my other self. I let out a playful howl and circle in place, my tail wagging happily.

I’ve always loved how my wolf looks—a pure silver coat, except for white tips on the tops of my ears. I don’t get to shift and run often at home, so this feels like heaven to me.

Antoine shifts into his wolf next. His coat is a dark, smoky gray, with a white chest and paws. He noses my neck, scenting me in my animal form.

Instantly, I want to submit to him, to lower myself and present my most private of areas to him, as my sister wolves in the wild do. I can’t do that here, of course, so I have to fight every instinct in my body that screams for him to take me.

All around us, vampires look around in wonder because, to them, a fully shifted pack is a rare sight. Another clash between the two groups happens when the Alpha from Utah—Ephram once again—tries to pet Grady in his shifted form.

Leo yells a reminder not to pet the werewolves, and I chuff in amusement.

Jack, shifted into his Alpha form, lets out a mighty howl that seems to shake the trees around us. Every single werewolf howls back in a choir of responses, a great piercing cry that builds and builds. Finally, he turns away from us, and begins to run, the light of the moon gleaming off his fur.

Leo takes off after him, his long legs pumping with ease. Vampires are much faster than the average human, and he keeps up easily with the Alpha’s lupine strides. The rest of us follow suit, and soon every werewolf and vampire is running under the light of the full moon.

It feels incredible to run like this, one big family moving as a single unit.

Antoine stays beside me at all times, and even when I can’t see him in my peripheral vision, I feel his presence watching over me, guarding me against danger so I can enjoy this moment without a care in the world.

The two young males from the scuffle earlier are now running side by side, the werewolf nipping at the vampire playfully and making him laugh. Everyone looks happy with what we are doing, and it gives me hope that traditions can be changed.

The group picks up speed, and we break into smaller clumps as the faster wolves and vampires break ahead of the others. Family units stay together to keep up with their pups, and soon, Antoine and I are running alone, side by side, partnered for the run.

He nips at the side of my neck, and turns his snout toward a small dirt trail leading toward the woods. We have full permission to explore the preserve as we wish, as long as we don’t do anything to the alligators under penalty of a very long tirade from Leo.

Antoine and I duck onto the walking trail, our paws hitting the damp dirt in unison. The sounds of running feet and paws fade away as we twist and chase each other through the foliage, barking happily.

I want to keep this memory forever, but I always want to experience it every full moon, not just this once. I want to teach my children to run in nature, their father—my Mate—at my side.

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