Blood Moon (14 page)

Ben gives me a sidelong glance. “I don’t like the sound of that. What is it?”

“Ulric and Daciana were bitten last night. Apparently, there was a group of men who set out to rid themselves of the wolf—yes, they think there’s only one—and they were all killed in the process. All except Ulric, Alaric, and Daciana. Alaric wasn’t even bitten, which is bizarre. Why would they spare him, but not the others?”

Ben curses under his breath. “So it’s begun . . .”

“Seems that way. Now, we just need to figure out when Alaric becomes a werewolf, and when he banishes Ulric and Daciana to the Otherworld. I have a feeling our powers will come in handy for this.”

Rubbing his forehead, Ben exhales harshly. “We need to go back to that spot in the woods, their secret hiding place. I think there might be more to it than meets the eye.”

“Um . . . you
do
remember what happened last time, right? How you almost
died
? Had we both been poisoned, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

Ben stands up and paces the room slowly, contemplating. “It’s been bugging me. I mean, why that one particular spot? Why did they have all of those traps in place? Whatever they’re up to, it’s located in that corner of the woods, away from prying eyes. People don’t wander that far out into the forest, especially since most of Colchester believes the legend.” He continues on, murmuring mostly to himself and speculating as to what the witches are hiding.

And then I remember what happened with the statue. “Ben! Oh, my God. I think you might be right.”

He stops pacing and stares at me.

“When I was pulling you to safety, your body triggered one of the cobblestones, just like when you triggered the poisonous arrows, and the cherub statue slid out of place. There was a glowing light—it was blue, actually—radiating from below. Maybe whatever’s down there is the key to unlocking their ultimate plan, or their undoing.”

“We need to get over there and check it out immediately.”

I hold up one hand. “Just . . . let me rest. I’ve been out all night, in the cold, and I’d like to thaw out and catch some Z’s before we embark on another dangerous mission.”

To my surprise, Ben’s lips curve into a smile. “Fine, but let’s get you out of those clothes first.”

Unable to prevent the smirk on my face, I say, “Well, then, you better get on it.”

Ben strolls over to the side of the bed and, in one swift motion, yanks me upward and spins me around. My back facing him, he begins to remove the buttons holding up the top portion of my dress. I collect my hair, draping it off to one side, and impatiently wait as he finishes his task. Sliding out of my skirt and undergarments is easy. Ben, however, doesn’t touch my corset.

Glancing over my shoulder, I ask, “What’s wrong?”

He has this playful, trying-to-be-serious look on his face. “Hmm . . .” Assessing me up and down with his eyes, he manages to say, “I don’t know. I think I like the corset.”

“You want me to keep it on?” I’m stunned, actually.

Ben covers his mouth with one hand, thinking. Once again, he gives me an overall assessment with his gaze. All the way down, and then all the way back up again.

“Yeah, it’s staying,” he affirms. “I like it too much.”

Turning my body around to face him, I see he’s still in his clothes. “What’s all this?” I ask, gesturing toward how covered he is, while I’m on my knees, on a bed, pretty much naked.

“Baby,” he coos, his fingers lightly grazing my cheek, “I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing it for you.”

My stomach flip-flops. Honestly, it hasn’t hit me until now the importance of what we’re about to do. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t dreamt of this moment, but damn . . . the picture just came into focus.

With a curt nod, I murmur, “I’m ready.”

“Lay down,” he orders.

Unpredictably, I don’t feel as exposed as I thought I might. Lying here, watching Ben slowly remove his shirt, I realize just how far we’ve come. If there is such a thing as destiny and star-crossed lovers, Ben and I are the poster children for those campaigns.

As he rids himself of his top, I stare at his taut muscles, etched so perfectly it hurts. His tan skin is still that of a Greek god, kissed by the sun. His hair, as dark as midnight, as black as a raven’s feather, has grown considerably since the first time we met, and rests just about his shoulders. The best part? He’s all mine. Perfect, in my eyes. My Ben.

Climbing atop me, he says, “If at any time you want me to stop, just say the magic words. Understand?”

“Yes,” I reply, my voice trembling as much as my legs.

He dips his head, lips brushing against mine. I want more. Teasing me further, Ben never actually kisses me, only pretends he’s going to, and when I open my mouth for him, he pulls away inch by inch.

“Don’t do this to me,” I whine.

He chuckles. “I told you: this is all about you, not me. If that means I have to taunt along the way, then so be it.”

Pouting, I cross my arms over my chest. Ben attentively grips one arm and places it above my head, the other soon following. Using the tips of his index and middle fingers, he skims down my neck, across my collarbone, and goes straight for my breasts, which are plump and round, thanks to the corset.

“Mmm, baby,” he whispers, “why are you breathing so hard?” I can’t even reply as he continues his languid assault on my skin, causing every hair, every pore, every nerve ending to react to his touch.

He continues torturing me further over the next thirty minutes—feather-soft kisses everywhere but my lips, hands roaming and kneading places he’s never visited before, bringing me to the brink of ecstasy, and then cutting me off. I’m wholly afflicted by desire. My body’s never reacted this way before, to any guy. But I shouldn’t be surprised; Ben’s not just some random fling.

Unable to resist tormenting me any longer, he completely removes the few articles of clothing that remain. With the early-morning sun beaming through the small window in our room, his skin glistens with a sheer luster. Watching him stand there, eyeing me, my heart hysterically thumps against my chest. I’ve never wanted someone so much in my life.

“Remember,” he whispers, as he settles between my legs, “if at any time you want me to stop, don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“I don’t think I’ll want you to,” I manage to say.

With a sly smirk, Ben proceeds to satisfy our deepest hunger, our hearts and souls merging into one.

Chapter Eleven

Having just woken from a long—and much needed—nap, Ben and I barely have time to slide into our clothing before Fiona bursts through the door.

“Something terrible has happened. Ye must come quickly!” she shouts.

Ben and I exchange a worried look, but we listen to her nonetheless. On the way to town, she hastily explains that Alaric accused Lavenia of witchcraft, and the Captain of the Watch gathered his men and raided her cottage, finding a spell book—incriminating evidence during this era. Briefly, I think back to the time I visited Night Sky Books, where witches convened on a regular basis. If they practiced magic during this time period, they’d be executed.

Which is why I’m fearful for Lavenia’s fate, even if she is crazy.

“They dragged her to the prison, where she shall be kept until the morning,” says Fiona.

I swallow the lump in my throat. “And then she’ll be killed?”

“Aye,” Fiona confirms.

Just as we pass by the crowd gathered around the jailhouse, Ben asks, “Where’s Alaric now?”

Fiona shakes her head. “I cannot rightfully say, though I am sure he fled home.”

“Then that’s where we’re going,” Ben says, glancing at me. Nodding my head once, I silently confirm that’s our next plan.

Fiona stops walking and stands near the large group of people. “I shall remain here, in case any news awaits. Go on, then.” She shoos us off before turning around and disappearing within the horde.

“Do you know where they live?” Ben asks me.

“Well,” I begin, “they can’t be far from Daciana’s, since Ulric visits there, but my guess is they live on the outskirts. Remember when Ulric said there was a cottage nearby? Hopefully, it won’t be too hard to find. We just need to locate cottages close to each other.”

“Yeah, except that might be a problem. Most of the cottages here are spread out, because it seems like nearly everyone owns a piece of land.”

Eventually, Ben and I follow the road where we encountered the wolf, reach the end where the path veers off toward Daciana’s residence, and are uncertain which way to go next. I highly doubt Alaric’s there, but we still need to check on our ancestors regarding their new condition. We might as well pay them a visit.

Although it’s been awhile since we spoke with Ulric and Daciana, they politely allow us to enter the Lowell home without any issues.

“Much has happened since we last conversed,” Daciana says, as we sit in the parlor.

Ben and I give each other a sidelong glance, since we already know what’s transpired. Of course, Ulric and Daciana don’t know that we’re very much aware of what goes on around here. But just in case Daciana feels like spilling her guts, I resign to keeping mute about the werewolf topic.

“Oh?” I pretend to inquire.

She nods, blowing a sharp sigh through her teeth. “I am afraid for the safety of others in this town.”

“Why’s that?” Ben asks.

Daciana fidgets in her chair, toying with her fingers, and pursing and unpursing her lips. “I cannot speak too much, for fear of the repercussions. What I can tell thee is not to trust the herb witch or her friends.”

“Lavenia,” I mumble, then roll my eyes.

“I gather ye have crossed paths,” Daciana states.

Ben responds blankly, “That would be an understatement.”

“She’s going to be executed tomorrow,” I add.

Daciana seems bewildered at first, but then her face falls into sadness. “Oh, my. Such a tragedy.”

Obviously, Daciana isn’t going to be forthcoming about her and Ulric’s mishap, even when she knows Lavenia’s death will be tomorrow, so I press onward with Alaric’s whereabouts.

“Look, we can’t stay too long,” I say, “but we wondered if you might have an idea of where Alaric is staying. He and Ulric live nearby, correct?”

Nodding her head, Daciana replies, “Aye, they live just beyond the fork in the road. He should be there, and if he is not, check Murdock’s Inn. If there is one thing in this world Alaric loves, ’tis his ale.”

“Thank you,” I say, standing up. “We’ll check both.”

Daciana escorts us to the front door. On our way out, she says, “I hope to see more of ye soon.”

“With a bit of luck, you will,” I respond. “More than you’d like.” She smiles at my statement, even though she can’t possibly fathom the significance behind it.

Ben and I rush to the nearest cottages, where we knock on each door, searching for Alaric. We finally locate the Conway residence, but some grumpy old man answers and demands that we leave him alone. With a little more persuasion, he caves, supplying us with information that both Alaric and Ulric are more than likely at Murdock’s.

We bump into Ulric as he’s leaving, telling him we spoke with Daciana in an effort to find Alaric.

“He is angry, I must admit, but he is also saddened,” Ulric explains. “He did not believe the Captain, or his men, would find anything of importance. Now, my brother must live with blood on his hands.”

But what will happen if Ben and I save Lavenia? Can we reach a truce and reverse the werewolf curse? “Maybe not. Maybe there’s a way to stop this madness.” I brush past Ulric and enter Murdock’s, my eyes scanning the crowd of drunken men. In the far corner of the room, Ulric sits alone, running a finger around the rim of his tankard. Plopping down on the seat across from him, I greet him cheerfully.

His eyes gradually rise to meet mine, but then return to staring at his mug of ale. Sitting this close, I realize he hasn’t aged a bit from now until our lifetime. I guess immortality will do that to a person.

“We could rescue her, you know,” I inform him. “Give the guards a sleeping potion and get her out of there before they wake up . . .”

Alaric snorts at my terrible scheme. “What is the use? She is truly a witch. Should we attempt to set her free, she shall see to my death.” He shakes his head. “No more.”

“And if she doesn’t want to kill you?” Glancing up, I see hope in his eyes. “What then?”

“’Tis not a possibility.”

Shrugging, I say, “Okay. Your loss, then.” I stand up and begin to walk toward the door, when he runs up behind me, grabbing my arm and directing me to our spot.

Keeping his voice lowered, Alaric hisses, “Ye cannot guarantee my safety, or the safety of others in this town. If ye only knew the undertakings, the tragic deaths which occur—” He stops himself and sits back. Our eyes meet, and we share a lengthy stare. I let him make the first move, especially if he’s willing to disclose. “Leave this town while ye still can. ’Tis in thy best interest.”

Well, that wasn’t the communication I had hoped for.

Rising to my feet, I state, “We’re going to end this, once and for all. You’ll see.”

As I exit Murdock’s, I notice Ulric and Ben are still chatting. They quickly end their conversation once I reappear.

“Have any luck?” Ben asks.

I shake my head. “None. He said we need to leave town, because we have no idea what goes on here.”

Ulric pales. “Apologies, but I must be on my way.” He tips his head and scurries off before we can object.

“This place just keep getting weirder and weirder,” Ben mumbles.

Physically and mentally, I’m exhausted. I feel like we’ve gone around in circles since the day we crash-landed in the alleyway nearby. We know who our ancestors are. We know two out of the three are werewolves already. We know Lavenia and the other witches are planning something. What we don’t know is what, exactly, the witches’ ultimate plan is, when they intend to carry out that plan, or when Alaric will banish Ulric and Daciana to the Otherworld. I have a gut feeling that if we can get rid of the witches, Alaric won’t stand a chance at placing the spell on Ulric and Daciana.