Moon Spell

“Good night, Ash,” he said, for old times’ sake.

Ashwood’s breath caught. “And you, Bell.”

And then Bellamy reveled in being in his beloved’s arms one last time.

Chapter 14

The following morning, Bellamy felt so full of energy, he nearly sprang out of bed. Except, apparently, they’d repositioned closer in the middle of the night, and he was curled up in Ashwood’s arms. As if it were something that could not be helped. Tethered together by shared history and fate. It felt bittersweet.

Ashwood’s skin was warm, his embrace tight, and the smell of him was something else altogether. It made Bellamy stir in more ways than one. He wanted to crawl more deeply inside his arms, taste his skin, feel connected to him in other ways too. It was nearly driving him mad.

He tried to lie still, but soon enough he began fidgeting. Ashwood’s chuckle reverberated through his skin. “Someone’s feeling better. You would always squirm in the mornings, in a rush to feel the sunshine on your skin.”

He was right. Bellamy had hated being in the dank warehouse. He’d rather sweat in the heat and beg strangers for money to bring back to Gladstone than remain in that musty-smelling space a moment longer than he had to.

“Why do I feel like this?” He sat up, which unfortunately broke their embrace.

“Like what?” Ashwood replied huskily, and Bellamy couldn’t help looking down at him. His mussed hair and sleepy eyes reminded him of days past when they would reluctantly part ways at separate street corners.

His gaze swung toward the window. The sun was just beginning to rise. “Like all my senses are on high alert.”

“It’s the first time you’ve felt better in weeks.” Ashwood slipped out of bed. “Let me take a good look and see if you’re completely healed.”

As he glanced him over, commenting on his skin being clear and his complexion rosy, a bevy of strange urges arose that Bellamy tried to fight—including the need to ravage Ashwood from head to foot.

“You’re rather fidgety. I’d say you’re cured of the sickness.”

“This is different from finally being well.” Bellamy stretched his limbs. “I feel an itch under my skin.”

“Hmm…” Ashwood’s expression changed to one of concern. “You’ve not taken the suppressant in weeks. Perhaps that’s why—”

“So this is how being a wolf feels?” Bellamy felt the urge to spin around the room with arms wide, strong. “Like it’s gnawing away inside you, trying to burst free?”

“I suppose so.” Ashwood’s brow wrinkled, and Bellamy wanted to reach out and smooth it. “Though every wolf’s experience is different.”

And now everything became clearer. How on edge Bellamy had felt the weeks after he’d arrived at Moon Flower and finally came of age while assisting the madam in the apothecary. He’d been too angry and distraught to allow himself to experience any of it. Now some of that anger had ebbed away, leaving a bright, intense hurt in the center of him. Allowing other things to take root and shine brighter.

“You must wash and eat,” Ashwood said like they were in a great hurry. “And then we can take you to your friends at Moon Flower.”

But Bellamy ignored him, choosing instead to stand at the window with his nose to the glass, the draw to be outside something fierce. He could see the flour mill, the stream, and the covered bridge where Galen had spent some time. The wildflowers were in bloom, and he crooked his head, hoping to hear the noises of the forest. If he listened closely enough…ah, there it was—birds chirping and insects buzzing.

“What are your senses alerting you to out there?” Ashwood asked as he prepared a wash basin for them.

“Everything.” He sighed, shutting his eyes to try to center himself. “And all at once, it seems.”

“I understand that feeling. It’s like a rush. Did you truly not get to experience it before using the suppressant?”

“I—I never allowed myself,” he said, frustrated, and cursing himself now for being so impulsive. But who could blame him? Wolves had represented danger to him. “What if…I want to experience it just this once?”

Ashwood placed the ewer of water on the sideboard, his eyes wide. “Experience what?”

“Running, like in my dreams.”

“In wolf form?” he asked, and Bellamy nodded, unsure if he’d be able to say the words aloud. They sounded ludicrous to his ears.

“I…I don’t know…” Ashwood replied to his utter surprise. He thought Ashwood would be excited for him to embrace this part of himself. “I don’t want you to regret it.”

“Regret it how?” he asked, his frustration nearly overflowing. All he wanted was to leave the confines of these walls and answer the call of the woods.

“I’m not certain how the suppressant works. If it would—”

“I don’t understand you!” Bellamy said, rounding on him. “I thought you wanted this for me.”

“I just wanted you to see that we’re not savages,” he bit out, then dipped his head, his cheeks dotted red. “Except…what if there’s no turning back?”