Moon Spell

“Where are the others?” he asked, glancing at the door.

Oscar looked around the room. “What others?”

“The other men who are like Ashwood—his pack, the wolves.”

Didn’t they travel in groups? Although the time his mother was killed, it was by a singular wolf. But perhaps that was only an aberration.

He had so many questions, like how many years the pack had been together and precisely how long ago Ashwood decided to betray him.

It made him sad and heated all over again. He supposed he was also forlorn, as Galen had called him, but more so, he was livid, and perhaps he needed to stay that way to avoid any unnecessary drama, even as he slipped off into death.

“I don’t know, Bellamy. I honestly think he’s here alone. I’ve never seen him with anyone else, which made him less frightening, to be honest.” He straightened suddenly. “In fact, he said he cannot feed in close proximity because of others detecting his wolf presence.”

That was certainly curious, but again, Bellamy did not know what to believe since Ashwood had deceived him so completely. Was he also hiding from others he’d wronged?

“Perhaps he’s only biding his time; he’s good at that, believe me,” Bellamy said, unable to suppress his bitterness. “Hopefully, you won’t get hurt in the process. I’m already dying. I’d hate for you to get caught up in his web of lies as well.”

“I don’t know what to believe. You’re confusing me.” Oscar shivered. “I only came in to offer you some broth, thinking perhaps you might be in need of sustenance. Ashwood thought you might like something warm in your belly. But I can leave you now and wait in the sitting room for his return.”

Bellamy suddenly felt alarmed. That he would be left alone again with that…monster. The monster who pretended to love him and care for him and had given Bellamy his heart and body willingly.

“No, don’t leave me!” he said urgently. He must’ve sounded frightened because Oscar halted near the sideboard. “I need—I need you to call for a carriage, and it must take me back to Moon Flower immediately. Madam Langley will know what to do.”

“But she didn’t know, don’t you remember?” he said, somber. “She tried everything to cure you like she did the others. Of course, many in Lunar’s Reach died, but now thanks to her, the rest are recovering. But not you.”

Bellamy screwed his eyes shut. He did remember. Mostly. If he returned to Moon Flower, he would surely die. But he’d rather die with his friends than here in this cold and lonely place.

“I remember…except perhaps not all that happened the past few weeks.” His mind was a fog of dreams and memories. “The other lads are all right? The twins and Edward? Any word on Galen and Azriel?”

“Galen and Azriel are perfectly happy living in Solar’s Edge, surrounded by a field of lavender, the twins said so. And Edward is still smitten with the butcher’s son; we all suspect they steal time together, though he refuses to speak of it.” He harrumphed. “So, see, everyone is perfectly content with their beloveds, even the ever-grumpy Edward, and I’m glad I’m not one of them.”

Bellamy smiled to himself. Oscar had not changed at all, and he supposed he didn’t expect him to. The man was just surprising, was all, as if wanting happiness for others but never himself. Not that you needed a beloved to be contented. Bellamy would never want such entanglements again after having his heart broken, so it was perfectly fine for Oscar to be satisfied alone as well.

Not that Bellamy had felt isolated at the bawdy house. The lads had become his family, and even though they all worked as high-paid whores, he thoroughly enjoyed his time at Moon Flower. He’d learned about himself, after all. Not the wolf part, because he was stifling it with the madam’s help, but his desires, the parts of him that had certain proclivities. He’d been so innocent when with Ashwood in his youth. But now he knew exactly how he liked things, and some of the gentlemen were only too willing to acquiesce. Oscar used to joke that his feistiness behind closed doors was the wolf in him. And perhaps it was. But more so, it was him discovering things about himself.

He wondered if Ashwood had had opportunity to—no, he didn’t want to think about him and whatever he’d been up to in his absence. Besides, it no longer mattered, and the very thought of how intimate they’d been, how much he’d craved the lad, now turned his stomach because it wasn’t real, at least not on Ashwood’s end. And Ashwood claiming them betrothed didn’t matter either. Bellamy now knew what that looked like—those who were truly fated. Wren and Sparrow. Galen and Azriel. Madam Langley and her beloved Madam Fairborn. There was no denial or betrayal between them. Only purity and trust. And love.