Adrenaline and testosterone permeated the room. She shook like a leaf at what she feared would be the death of one of the two men she cared about. She didn’t want them fighting, especially not over her, and if she planned to stop them it had to be now. Bloody pools already sat coagulating in crevices about the floor. Going by the sounds of their grunts, neither was ready to concede the fight.
She called upon her secret gift. The one that set her apart from the rest of her other female kin. She went into Moss’s mind first, showering him with images of the witch casting the lust spell on her. Next she shot into Damien’s, grabbed the images of his heartfelt apology for having no choice but to have fucked her, and literally transferred them into Moss’s mind, praying he’d see and understand the situation for what was.
Both men stilled at her initial telepathic intrusions. Stilled even while gripping the other fiercely for dominance. Neither trusted the other’s momentary pause in battle, but they stopped nonetheless. Once all images had been transferred back and forth, she waited for them to process what they’d seen. Moments later, they backed away from each other and stood, hesitant. Each eyed the other warily, but they were no longer swinging at each other.
Whew, much better. At least it was a start. “He didn’t have a choice, Moss. Neither did I,” she explained, hoping to not rekindle the anger she’d just extinguished.
Still breathing heavily, and appearing torn with raw emotion, Moss said nothing. The pained look he wore tore her heart in two and brought tears to her eyes. She wasn’t sure what else to say. How else could she explain what had transpired between her and Damien. A bit calmer but still taut, ready for another assault, Damien attempted a better explanation.
“You of all people should understand what the cold bitch is capable of. You know once she has cast a spell, there is no turning back. Would you have preferred me to leave her in agonizing pain? Preferred me to risk her dying by the fever? She was in excruciating pain, and the fever was high enough I chose not to risk her life.”
“I would have preferred you not to have fucked her. Preferred you to have located me. I would have helped ease her suffering.”
Oh, shit. Beth knew Moss still seethed in anger. Though she did pick up confusion as well. Also that he felt betrayed. By both of them. Yet for now, they had him at least listening.
“So you wish for me to have taken the time to search for you? Hunt you for God only knows how long out in the swamps, all while she screamed in agony?” Damien’s eyes narrowed angrily as he took in Moss’s pause for consideration. “You care so little for her, Bog Man, that you would have chosen that for her? Answer carefully, for the way you answer will play a large part in how I intend to go forth.”
“Is that a threat, Road Kill?” Moss snickered.
Road Kill? What in the hell was Moss insinuating? Moss’s ploy to bait Damien had worked. Damien’s eyes narrowed as he bristled at Moss’s name-calling. His formerly defensive stance switched to a decidedly offensive one. The last thing anyone needed was for them to throw down again. She thought she should jump between them to settle them down, but instead, she froze. She needed to hear Moss’s answer, from his lips. Moss’s labored breaths boomed through the room, yet he refused to speak or even look her way. Her heart broke into a million tiny pieces.
“Your lack of answer is enough for me,” she said. “I judged you wrong, Moss, and I apologize for placing too much responsibility on you concerning me. Damien, I understand what you did and why, and please believe I hold no ill will toward you. I thank you for having cared enough, even though you didn’t really know me, to not want me left in agony or worse.”
She watched, angry and bitter as Damien, who seemed to care more about her, a mere stranger, than her own Bog Man did, lowered his head in acknowledgement of her words. Head held high, she turned to flee before the as of yet unshed tears poured free. When she got to the chamber’s entrance, she turned to face Moss one last time. She would do what she’d set out to do. It seemed only fitting.
“Moss, regardless of what transpired between us, you have a right to know the truth.” She used her nails to score her palms to battle back the tears. The sting worked for the moment. “You were not responsible for your wife’s death or that of the children.”
His head whipped toward her as shock replaced the angry look on his face. “What did you just say?” A mere whisper, yet pain rode loud in each syllable, and his face contorted in sheer torture.
“You killed no one that night. It was you she zeroed in on, not your wife or the children. Their lives went on. Yours was the only one to have ended that night.”
“How can that be true? I searched all night for them. Kept searching until she convinced me of their deaths.” Moss dropped his head into his hands. Beth sensed how badly he wanted to believe the words she spoke. How much he needed to, but he feared letting go of the long-held obligation of guilt. Hell, he probably didn’t even know how to after all this time.
“Records in the courthouse prove their existence. Proof they went on to live full lives, and settled happily in this town. What I speak is the truth, and you needed — no, deserved to know.”
With those words, she turned on her heel and left, taking with her what little dignity she had left, though it felt more like it dragged along the floor behind her. Her heart hurt, her mind was muddled, and she just wanted to go home, cry, and curl up for a week. Sure, none of this shit had been her fault, but she understood what it must look like from his side. That still didn’t change the fact he’d acted like a grade-A pompous ass.
She hadn’t gone far when a faint scuffling sound began, and Damien’s voice called out for her. Mortification kicked in and she bolted. Ran from having to deal with any more accusations or confrontations. Ran from the man she thought she’d shared something phenomenal and different with.
Ran from everything she’d left back in that room. She couldn’t handle any more drama right now. It had all been too much, too fast.
Hell, she didn’t even know where she was running to; she just knew she wanted out of this damn cave and the hell away from both of the biggest male egos she’d ever met. So onward she continued, not caring how lost she might become. Anything would be better than having to face off with either of them again.
She rounded a corner so fast she didn’t realize there were no torches lighting this path, and before she could put the brakes on, she felt the ground disappear from beneath her feet. The strange, weightless feeling of falling kicked in. Day became night as she blindly reached outwards, clawing for anything she could grasp, and thankfully semi-landed on a shelf of sorts. She was afraid to move for fear she would fall again. She couldn’t see what she was on, or how big it was, and didn’t have any time to think about it before it crumbled beneath her in a scattering of loose rock and dirt.
She screamed in terror and heard a strange cracking just before the many brilliantly bright stars swarmed her vision and she fell into mental oblivion.
Chapter Sixteen
“You’re a fool, Moss. Beth was a victim of Octavia’s temper, and you damn well know it,” Damien hissed.
“What do you know about love? You’ve what? Loved the she-bitch for how long now and expect me to believe you got played?” Moss answered as rage bubbled forth. His fangs extended, and the scaled tattoos spread — a sure indication he anticipated launching into another physical altercation with his old acquaintance.
“You should understand more than anyone exactly how evil she is, my friend. I was young and stupid many a year ago. Much like you were, on the ill-fated night she found you. Oh, yeah, Moss. I know your story. Heard the tale of how she lured you farther and farther into the twisted swamps. I also get you followed her for reasons far from noble in nature.” Damien’s eyes had taken on a lethal glow, one that indicated he, too, still considered their brawl far from over.
“Whatever ha
ppened is none of your concern,” Moss spat, lunging forward, wanting nothing more than to rip Damien’s throat out.
“Hit a sore spot, did I?” Damien goaded, sidestepping Moss’s attack with ease. “Nothing pisses me off more than someone who had something special and was too stupid to know it. If you’re not going after her, I will. I did my duty, told you the truth, and if your head is too far up your Neanderthal ass, then so be it. Lucky me.”
Moss froze as Damien’s words sunk in.
“I can’t help but wonder if Beth knows the whole truth of that night?” Damien questioned.
Moss considered his options. Beat the hell out of Damien, which at the very least would make him feel better, or find Beth and attempt to sort out everything that had happened. He opted for Beth, stalking out to find her before she got herself into any more trouble. Or before he killed Damien, wiping the cocky smirk off his face permanently. He sensed Damien following and didn’t give a shit if the prick wanted to watch. Moss had every intention of finding Beth and carrying her the hell out of Damien’s lair. If Damien didn’t like it, Moss would deal with the cretin later. Beth belonged with him, and he had no intentions of sharing her with Damien or anyone else.
Now, he need only convince Beth of this.
They hadn’t gone far when she screamed. He heard the terror in it, then the most horrid sounding thud. But the terrifying silence that followed was worst of all. Her scream stopped as if cut with a knife. It had simply quit when the thud had.
All animosities tossed aside, he and Damien dashed toward where the scream had originated. He’d never been more frightened in his life. Not when the witch had cursed him, not even when he thought he’d let his wife down, allowing her to become lost. Yes, he’d loved her, but theirs had been an arranged marriage. They’d grown up together, had been friends, and he’d done what he thought expected of him. He’d cared for her, yes. Loved her so hard he lost his breath? No.
• • •
Beth brushed her hand across her forehead and wondered what the strange, damp, sticky stuff was that seemed to be matted on it. Bewildered, she tried to sit, and as her hands went to the floor to push herself up, one hand couldn’t seem to find the floor. She felt around and felt a rock ledge not far under her and only space beyond that.
She glanced over in that direction and saw nothing. The utter darkness she found herself cloaked in seemed endless, and she instinctively leaned right and breathed a sigh of relief when her body rubbed against the cool solidness of the rock wall next to her.
Carefully, she patted her hands all around her bottom half and found, within inches in front of, behind and to one side of her, nothing but air. That was when the true terror set in, and the vague image of falling into an endless abyss took hold and she plastered herself against the caves wall. She remembered the fall, the sharp crack and pain before oblivion stole her away. Where the hell had she ended up, and how in Hades would she get herself the hell out?
More memories inched back into her mind. Moss and Damien fighting, the hurt and betrayed expression etched on Moss’s gorgeous face. Awakening in Damien’s arms, quite naked. All those flooded back with a bitter vengeance.
“Oh, God, what have I done, and with whom?” she whispered through waves of shame and anxiety.
Damien had implied she’d been out of her mind with desire and carnal needs, but had she? Did some damn spell really cause her extreme reaction? She believed in magic. Had been around the essence of witchcraft all her life, but until Octavia, had never witnessed such strong, dark magic being practiced before.
Well, hell, of course dark magic had the ability to turn her into a stark raving nymphomaniac. She knew people toyed with that kind of power; she’d just never had a whammy of that sort placed on her. Oh, she’d heard rumors through the years. She’d read about the horrors of love spells gone awry; where either the spell had pushed the intended farther away, or brought them so close the caster of the spell couldn’t move an inch without their so-called beloved. But being on the receiving end of a hardcore, X-rated, sexual spell? She’d never had reason to think about such a thing.
Either way, the episode with Damien had to have appeared bad from Moss’s perspective. Truthfully, had she walked in on Moss with someone else — well, it wouldn’t have ended with a pretty scene. She would have ripped a bitch a new face.
Damn old hag will wish she’d never met me by the time I’m done with her.
Oh, yeah, the bitch would pay for this. Not only had she fucked up Moss’s life and most likely Damien’s too, but now Octavia seemed intent on screwing Beth’s over as well.
Well, fuck the old bag of bones. Beth didn’t plan on lying down, pun intended, and taking it. She’d gather the aunts, and together they’d conjure up their own damn whammy. Yep, they’d fuck Octavia’s world all up by sending the old hag back to whatever hell she’d spawned from. Well, as soon as Beth figured out how to get out of her current predicament.
“Beth.” Her name rang out from far above her. Her heart thundered. Thank God they’d found her. She’d started to call back, until she froze in mid thought, her voice suddenly forsaking her.
She wanted to be saved, but being saved right now also meant another round of confrontation. She couldn’t handle seeing the hurt again on either man’s face. Nor was she truly ready to admit what she’d done. What she’d experienced with Damien. Yes, it might have only transpired due to a spell, but from what she remembered, she’d enjoyed his efforts at saving her.
Fuck that. She wasn’t about to fall off into the freaking abyss just to save face.
“Down here,” she managed to squeak. The current terror at her situation was evident in her quivering tone.
“We see you. Do not, I repeat, do not move one muscle,” Moss ground out.
He sounded as scared as she did, and she was the one perched on the ledge next to a drop-off with no bottom in sight. She overheard the guys whispering above her.
“Even with my heightened sense of sight, I cannot make out the bottom.”
“I can’t either, Damien. We need to get to her fast.”
“Beth, do what Moss said — don’t move an inch.”
“Uhh, like duhh,” she spat, sore, tired and a little sarcastic.
“She seems a bit miffed,” Damien muttered under his breath, apparently perplexed as to why. Typical male, she mused.
“Of course she would; she’s been through tremendous events these last few days.” Moss sounded rather defensive of her, winning another brownie point. Just hearing him get defensive on her behalf made her heart go pitter-pat. Maybe he hadn’t been as angry as she’d originally thought. She could hope, couldn’t she?
A light spattering of rocks and loose dirt came raining down, and try as she might, she wasn’t able to hold back her startled shriek. She tried to shield her eyes from the falling debris while not falling over the edge in the process. Her bottom was way too close to the edge, though she hadn’t moved anything but her arms.
“God, Beth, are you all right?” they both yelled, sounding frantic.
“Uh, yeah, but guys, whatever you did, please, please don’t do it again.” She tried to add a touch of humor to her voice, but knew she hadn’t quite succeeded. The tumbling rocks had been a quick reminder of how potentially deadly her situation was.
“Look, we both can’t go down to get her. Do you have any rope?” Moss asked taking charge.
“Yeah, hold on a sec. I’ve got some back in my chambers.”
“What’s going on up there? Is something wrong? What aren’t you telling me?” She sure as hell hoped nothing else had gone wrong.
Please, no more surprises today. Please, please, please, She prayed.
“Beth, baby, hold still. Do not move a muscle until I can reach you, okay?” Moss called down to her.
“Exactly where do you think
I would go, oh, Swampy One?” Okay, so her nerves were shot and she’d become a bit hysterical. So sue her. When Moss rumbled above her, chuckling at her clever yet smart-ass reply, something inside her instinctively calmed. As though her soul understood Moss would never allow her to get hurt. Well, not seriously anyway.
“Damien has gone to get rope, and as soon as he’s back, I’m coming down to get you. Beth, I swear on my life, I’m not letting anything happen to you. I just need you to remain still and calm.”
“Okay, I’ll be here. I don’t have any better place to be right now, though I am checking my calendar as we speak.”
“Oh, I can think of many better places you could be,” he teased.
“You can, can you?”
“Oh yes, I most certainly can.” His voice dropped even deeper, becoming more baritone.
“And where would that be?” She had her suspicions, but as angry as he’d been, she wanted him to say it.
“I think you already know the answer to that. Don’t you, Beth?”
“Moss?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m … I’m so very, very sorry.” Her voice lowered, quivering as she uttered those painful but truthful words. The need to apologize overwhelmed her, and yet she feared her timing.
“I know, and we can discuss what took place later. Right now, though, let’s concentrate on getting you to safety.” Though his words spoke assurance, she couldn’t mistake the pain lacing them.
Damien returned and, sensing the uneasy silence between them, wordlessly handed Moss the rope, taking in his old friend’s unsure appearance.
Light shuffling began above her, and she knew Moss was gearing up to rappel down to her. Just as she began to sigh in relief, an evil laugh echoed through the cave. A cackle that froze her blood. The steps above stopped as Moss and Damien cursed at the witch’s untimely arrival.
Swamp Magic (Crimson Romance) Page 9
