Moon Spell

“Ashwood needs to be kept safe until we can come up with a plan.”

Oscar quirked an eyebrow. “Perhaps this calls for a spot of moon-flower tea?”

“Wolves can heal themselves, so that wouldn’t work,” Bellamy replied, banishing the night with the constable from his mind.

“Then perhaps your wolves could overpower him.”

Bellamy gulped uncomfortably. “I would be no match.”

Ashwood laughed. “You might surprise yourself.” He turned to Oscar. “Bellamy was able to outrun me in the forest, but that might’ve been sheer enthusiasm.”

Bellamy smiled to himself, wishing for that simpler time in the woods, when the worries of the human world were blotted out.

“Now I’m a bit jealous,” Oscar scoffed, crossing his arms. “So what does kill a wolf?”

“Good question,” Bellamy said, staring at Ashwood. He knew multiple injuries might, the kind Ashwood had sustained.

“Why, do you plan on murdering me?” Ashwood deadpanned.

“Perhaps at one time I might’ve.”

They grinned at each other while Oscar shook his head. “I understand you came to a truce and are friendly again, but you’re quite daft if you can’t see you are made for each other.”

Bellamy’s face heated, and Ashwood looked away.

“You are ever the romantic, Oscar,” Bellamy said, trying to make light of his remark. “I’ll admit I’m curious as well—how does one kill a wolf?”

“A slash to the carotid artery.” Ashwood made the cutting motion across his throat. “It would be hard to stop the flow. They would bleed out in seconds.”

Oscar shivered. “That’s enough talk of death. I’d rather discuss fucking.”

“Of course you would.”

They laughed as they resumed their chores.

During that afternoon and evening, Bellamy was able to visit with most of the lads, and he and Ashwood observed them as they prepared for the gentlemen with lavish baths and oils before dressing in only their underclothes.

The lads were used to being bare around one another and paid them no mind. Ashwood tried to remain respectful by averting his gaze, but Bellamy could tell by the bulge in his pants that it was difficult not to become affected by all that smooth skin.

“Did you enjoy this part of the evenings?” Ashwood asked as the scent of orange blossoms arose in the room.

“Certainly.” Bellamy glanced over his shoulder. “Sex shouldn’t be shameful. It’s beautiful, actually.”

Ashwood made a low noise of acquiescence. “I didn’t know what to expect when I found out you were here, under the madam’s watchful eye. I felt protective. And frightened for you.”

“And now you see you had nothing to worry about. Besides, you admitted you’ve met your needs as well.”

“Yes, but I…”

“You don’t need to explain. I don’t believe it’s necessary.” He breathed out. There was already too much pain between them. “I hope you feel the same. We don’t owe each other anything.”

Bellamy stood and padded to the window to look out at the night sky. Ashwood followed, and they were quiet for a long moment.

“Having said that, some nights I would not partake. I would ask if I could stay in the sleeping quarters or help in the kitchens.”

“Why is that?” Ashwood asked, his voice soft and hesitant.

“Sometimes it was because of the full moon. I felt tense, despite taking the suppressant.” He glanced at Ashwood. “And other times it was because…I was missing you.”

He could feel Ashwood’s heat as he took a step closer. “Bell.”

Bellamy shook his head. “I’m only telling you this to reiterate that it wasn’t easy for me. I was drowning in heartbreak for so long.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, and Bellamy could feel his breath against his nape. “I hesitated to come here with you, not only because I was afraid of putting you in danger, but because it’s an agonizing reminder of our time apart. I want you all to myself, and for no other to have you, and I ache with the loss.”

“It’s merely the fated thing.” Bellamy’s throat closed, his words strangled, even as everything in his body wanted to turn to Ashwood and take him into his arms, to kiss him breathless.

“No, it’s us,” Ashwood said. “How it’s always been, fated or not.”

“Ash—”

Thankfully, Madam Langley entered with the tray of moon flowers to place behind their ears, and the lads lined up near the door.

“I know you’re eager to greet our gentlemen, but mind your manners,” she warned, then turned to Bellamy and Ashwood. “You’re free to use the viewing apertures or a room of your own.”

There were some nervous titters from the lads, and Ashwood’s cheeks grew even rosier. But before either of them could respond, she ushered the lads out of the room, and they were left to their own devices.

Quiet descended on the sleeping quarters, and the tension between them heightened. Once the madams discussed the matter of Kipling with them the following morning, Ashwood was sure to take his leave. Bellamy could tell he was apprehensive about the idea of staying another night, but he also thought Ashwood enjoyed the reprieve.