Moon Spell

“Maybe your wolf is stronger than mine—if you ever decide to entertain the idea and find out. Or perhaps I would simply let you do it.” His shoulders drooped, and he mumbled something wretched to himself, no doubt. “I have no future now as it is. I’ll always be in hiding from the man who wanted me dead.”

Bellamy didn’t want to be swayed, but it was hard, either because he saw Ashwood’s humanity, or because they really were fated and he couldn’t help being affected by what his mate was feeling.

They stared at each other, and Bellamy was about to tell him to get on with it, when Ashwood cleared his throat, resolve in his expression. As if he needed to pack away his emotions as well.

“I have to be near you for the healing to work.”

“How close?” Bellamy asked, his pulse picking up, making him pant openly. It didn’t help his already feverish body to have his blood rushing erratically through his veins.

“You have to allow me to use my body warmth and my mouth…my teeth and my saliva…”

Bellamy recoiled. “Whatever for?”

“To mark you, which in turn heals you.”

Bellamy didn’t know how to feel about allowing Ashwood such intimacy again. The idea of having him so near…it might kill him. But so would doing nothing. It was quite the challenge, and he was beginning to doubt himself again and his decision to get well. He couldn’t help remembering the last time he had the chance to touch the man in a more intimate way. And he meant more than the times when they’d sneaked away to touch and kiss and spend.

He meant holding hands until morning, breathing each other’s air, not wanting to part even if only to be across the street from one another, where they could make eye contact all day. Those first days post-betrayal of not being near him had been brutal, but not as brutal as what Ashwood had done and how it had shredded Bellamy’s very soul.

“This is not a trick of some sort?”

“No,” Ashwood said simply. “You would know immediately and call my bluff.”

They stared at each other again, and Bellamy noted how weary Ashwood’s eyes had grown.

“Don’t worry, this will only be purposeful—clinical, almost. I can be swift, or at least try to be…” He looked away as if what Bellamy would see in his eyes might betray him. It reminded him of when he would ask his mother poignant questions she didn’t want to answer.

“Will the biting turn me into a wolf?” He shivered a little.

“You’re already a wolf, Bellamy,” he said with a humorless laugh. “You’ve only been suppressing it.”

The memory of him and his mother in a carriage, at night, drifted through his thoughts again. Why did it seem eerily similar to how he’d sought out Madam Langley and her vials of magical potions?

“Do you think…?” He wanted to ask the question about his mother, but they were no longer confidants or friends. “Never mind.”

“You can inquire about anything, Bellamy.”

“And you will answer honestly?” he challenged.

Ashwood looked elsewhere. “Touché.”

“Was something similar required of Kipling to turn you?” Ashwood shifted uncomfortably, and Bellamy could see his frustration just below the surface. He hadn’t wanted to become a wolf, Bellamy could tell. “Did it hurt?”

“Yes. That bite is right at the jugular.” His hand moved to his neck as if he were remembering the incident. Of course, there was no visible scar, or Bellamy would’ve seen it by now. Not like his other scars.

“He introduced me to the idea, telling me how great it would be, but before I could make a decision, he held me down and bit me.” He sounded so resigned, it made Bellamy sad and angry about Kipling all over again. “Then…nothing happened for quite some time because I was not of age, so I was able to put it out of my mind.”

He looked Ashwood in the eye, his anger boiling over. “I want Kipling dead.”

“So you’ve said.” Ashwood raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps you need me after all.”

Bellamy smirked. “Just this once.”

It was the lightest moment between them since he’d woken up in that room, and it made Bellamy’s chest loosen a bit.

“Then let’s get you well,” Ashwood said with resolve. “Allow me to take care of some things, and I will return shortly. I promise not to make you suffer much longer.”

“Where are you going?” Bellamy became alarmed, fearful that Ashwood was off to seek reinforcements. But couldn’t he have done so already when Bellamy had been at his weakest? He wouldn’t have respected his boundaries or wishes to begin with if that were the case. No, he needed to have some faith.

“I would say trust me, but I already know you don’t,” Ashwood said, then shut the door carefully behind him.

Chapter 10

Bellamy drifted in and out of sleep, his moans growing steadily from overall discomfort, his skin feeling increasingly clammy and overheated.