Moon Spell

For the rest of the journey, he marveled at what he’d done in the name of passion. Perhaps this would be a good way to end their reunion. They had healed each other—physically, at least. Their hearts would take much longer.

“So, you’ll be returning to Moon Flower?” Ashwood asked as the carriage passed through a nearby town.

“Yes. I’ve stayed away long enough. They’ll want to know I’m safe and well.”

Ashwood nodded, and the smile that stretched his lips looked sad. “And the suppressant?”

He looked down. “Would I really have any sort of life as a wolf?”

Ashwood shrugged. “That is for you to decide.”

He needed to consult with Madam Langley about it—and perhaps Oscar, now that he knew his secret as well. Maybe Oscar would actually have some good insight.

“And what of Kipling?” Ashwood asked.

“I still wish him dead. And I think the idea of somehow having a hand in it spurred me to get well,” Bellamy admitted. “However far-fetched it was. I would stand little chance against him, as man or wolf.”

“If he becomes aware of your intentions, he will search for you,” Ashwood said, clearly knowing all too well from experience. “He’s nothing if not proud and vengeful.”

“And I’d undoubtedly have to live like my mother did, always looking over my shoulder.” His mood deflated as the realization took hold that Kipling would probably always remain out of reach, a distant enemy he would always fear and wish dead.

“Wouldn’t it honor your mother best if you became who you were meant to be?”

“And what, pray tell, would that be?” Bellamy asked, exasperated.

“Isn’t it yet to be determined?” He quirked an eyebrow. “You said you never had the opportunity to think about it. So maybe this is your chance.”

“Perhaps you’re right. And how about you?”

“Now that I know you’re well, I can do the same.”

“You’ll have to leave Lunar’s Reach,” he said, and when Ashwood nodded, Bellamy felt sadness and relief all at once. He would always feel a draw to Ashwood because of their bond and their history, and it would be a constant ache in his chest. Perhaps some distance would make a difference. Or only make it worse…

“Will you search for the female pack?” he asked in a hopeful tone.

“Why do you ask about them so often?”

He took a deep breath and tried to gather his thoughts. “I suppose it’s because you don’t deserve to be alone. You have been, practically your entire life. You deserve some happiness too.”

“Thank you.” Ashwood dipped his head, color high on his cheeks. “I’m sure I’ll find contentment settling elsewhere and living a simple life.”

“Will you send word?” Bellamy asked suddenly, feeling a strange sort of panic bubble inside him. “Tell me where you are, just in case—”

Ashwood stared at him openly, and for good reason. Bellamy wasn’t making much sense, not after pushing Ashwood away so fervently.

“You would want that? I thought perhaps—”

“You’re right, of course. I’ve been contradictory. You can blame your ridiculous charm,” Bellamy said with a laugh, and Ashwood’s cheeks dotted pink. “But I don’t wish you ill will, at least not anymore. So perhaps it would be good to stay in contact…in the case of an emergency.”

“All right,” he replied after a long moment. “I’ll be sure to send word when I settle somewhere.”

The knot in Bellamy’s stomach loosened.

Too soon, they were back in Lunar’s Reach, and he rubbed at the woeful stitch in his chest. He would say goodbye, and they would part ways, possibly for good.

“Well, here we are,” Bellamy said as the coach rolled closer to Ashwood’s residence. “Once you are safely inside, I’ll have the driver take me to Moon Flower.” There was no reason for Bellamy to join him in his rooms. It would only prolong the inevitable.

“Wait.” Ashwood sat up suddenly, alarm in his gaze. He rapped his knuckles on the underside of the ceiling, asking the driver to slow down.

Panic crowded Bellamy’s chest. “What is it?”

“Kipling.” Ashwood’s eyes darted to and fro. “I can smell him. He’s been here. He’s found me.”

Bellamy sniffed at the air as if he could pick up the scent on his own, only revealing how inexperienced his wolf was. Besides, he didn’t know Kipling, while Ashwood knew him personally.

“Sir?” the driver asked from the seat above them, but Ashwood didn’t move. He sat frozen, as if in shock.

Bellamy cleared his throat. “There’s been a change of plans. Take us to the Moon Flower Apothecary.”

With clear directions, the driver resumed their trek, finding an area to turn the coach around to head in the direction of the apothecary on the opposite end of town.

“What about your possessions?” Bellamy asked.

“I have nothing of value there.” Ashwood’s timbre was low and cautious.

“Your book of flowers,” Bellamy said because it’d seemed that meant something to him.

“I can start a new one,” he replied distractedly.