“Keep her busy at all costs,” Moss commanded Damien.
“I’ll do my best — just get Beth to safety,” Damien beseeched, sounding nearly as concerned as Moss.
Beth still had to make amends to Damien. He hurt, and she didn’t want him to take sole responsibility for what had happened between them. It was what it was, no more, no less. He lived a reclusive life, and she sensed the deep loneliness that surrounded him.
The high-pitched laugh went silent far too quickly for things to be good. Beth’s gut screamed to prepare for some bad shit coming at her. Sure enough, the small ledge she perched on gave way beneath her.
Chapter Seventeen
The horrid sensation of free falling set in again, but the scream hadn’t even passed her trembling lips before a steely arm clamped about her waist, thankfully tight. So damn tight, in fact, she feared air wouldn’t be able to enter her lungs again.
Moss had her. She loved the feeling of being safe in his secure embrace.
Then they slammed against the unyielding stone of the cave’s interior wall with such force an audible swoosh, followed by a whack, ricocheted around them.
“Are you unharmed?” Moss asked when they’d finally stilled.
“Uh, yeah. Yes,” she managed to eke out between pained gasps. “Don’t suppose you’ve ever watched George of the Jungle?”
“Who?”
“Never mind. I’m a bit delirious, I think.”
“Climb onto my back and wrap your legs about my waist. Can you do this, Beth?”
She glanced down, which turned out to be a huge mistake. Huge.
She couldn’t see a thing, only pitch blackness, and realized only one thing kept her from plunging into the darkness. An arm. One large, muscular arm that happened to be attached to an equally muscular body belonging to Moss. Though she trusted Moss, the thought was still quite disconcerting. She didn’t doubt Moss’s capabilities, but she’d rather not test her theories about his strength and endurance.
She carefully shifted her arms to reach up around his neck, and even in the dark, she could make out the subtle glow of his special, nocturnal eyes. Their glinting apparently allowed him keen vision even through the darkest of darks. Though she lacked his visual gift, she knew the moment they’d locked eyes. Felt it in her soul. His beckoning for her to do what needed to be done and trust in him.
“You must move quickly as I fear Octavia’s quick return,” he whispered, urging her onto him by nudging her thigh with his.
Using his shoulders as anchors, she hoisted herself higher, climbing his body like a ladder. Once they were pelvis to pelvis, she wrapped her legs around his waist and locked her ankles. Once Beth was secure, Moss began the climb back up. She could do no more than hold tight, rest her head upon his sculpted back, and pray like hell.
Once they’d reached the top and were back to where she could see a damn thing, she noted the extreme worry marring his beautiful face. Moss had been that frightened for her? Or was it perhaps fear of the witch’s wrath? She hoped for the first, but after his dismay at what he deemed her betrayal, she wasn’t positive, only hoping.
She didn’t have long to wait for her answer. He pulled her roughly against him, and his lips came down on hers. She no longer had any doubts. This was a claiming. A marking of one’s territory, of possession, and she readily embraced him.
Her heart soared. Moss still wanted her. So much so, he’d marked her, and witch or no witch, her world suddenly felt right. As if a part of her had always been missing until she’d found him.
Moss completed her. With him she became whole.
Her tongue swept past his, their breathing ragged and needy while the evidence of his increased desire pressed hard against her belly. What she wouldn’t give for another magical night with Moss at his secluded, rustic cabin.
Okay, shack. Whatever. If Moss lived in it, as far as she was concerned it was the Taj freaking Mahal.
One arm encircled her waist while the other pressed up under her ass, forcing her to wrap her legs about his waist once again. This time, under entirely better circumstances. Their lips were still locked when she felt the sharp chill on her back where he used the cave’s wall to assist help him control their position.
She edged her hands under his shirt, seeking out the cool touch of his skin. Where most men would feel warm, Moss’s reptilian side kept his body temperature a bit cooler than the norm, and she could care less. In fact, she found it rather exotic. The sensation of his cool skin as it slid against hers brought tingles over the surface of her skin.
He continued his urgent thrusts, and she was about to say the hell with it and strip his pants off right then and right there. The witch could kiss her royal ass. He was Beth’s, and only Beth’s. Ms. Skankass needed to find her own boyfriend. Maybe a skunk.
But getting jiggidity against the cave wall probably wouldn’t be the best idea right then. As if Moss had come to the same sad conclusion, he reluctantly released her legs but continued pinning her with his body. Head bowed, he struggled to regain control, thus allowing her to try to control the shaking in her legs. She understood his reluctance to let her go. If they stayed together, no one had the power to tear them apart. Beth didn’t want to let go any more than he did, but they needed to boogie somewhere safe.
“That was highly wrong of me,” he whispered as his lips brushed her ear. “To endanger you again in such a way. We need to get moving. I need to get you to safety. Get you back home.”
He sounded firm, yet sadness resonated at the mere thought of them parting once again. Sheer determination forced her to step away so she would be able to get eye to eye with him when she explained they would not be parting again anytime soon. Octavia was a powerful witch capable of getting to Beth no matter where she hid. It would be better if they stuck together. Plus after the last time they’d parted, bad shit came down. On all of them.
“Moss, I’m not leaving you, but you’re right about the home part. However, you, my friend are coming with me.”
“I cannot,” he stated gruffly before looking elsewhere about the cave. His gaze held longing and hope locked deep within.
“And why can’t you? My home not good enough for you?” She hoped to lure him with the pretense he’d offended her. She even propped a hand on her jutting hip as she impatiently waited for his reply.
“No, I meant no disrespect to your home. I am sure it is a lovely, warm place. I … I no longer fit in your world. Now we must go,” he stated purposefully, trying to close the subject from further discussion.
Dude, don’t piss me off.
Moss tried to pull her with him, but she dug her heels into the hard dirt floor and refused to budge.
“You can fit in, Moss. I’m not saying you have to jump right back into society, but you have as much right to join it as any of the rest of us.”
“You are wrong, my sweet, innocent Beth.” The forlorn look he gave her broke her heart, for it reflected absolute resolve. He was resigned to staying in the swamps and accepting his punishment for something he didn’t do. It hurt her heart and pissed her off all at once.
“No, I am not wrong.” She stomped a foot for emphasis. “Moss, what makes you so sure you don’t belong?”
He shoved away from her before jerking off his shirt, ripping it to shreds in the process. He motioned to his tattoo-style scales.
“These. Are you to tell me the rest of society has changed so much, they too now bear scales over their bodies? Am I that mistaken in what the world has become?” he challenged.
“No, maybe they don’t. But those don’t mean you can’t fit in. Hell, Moss, it doesn’t mean you even need to try to fit in. Damn it, you can at least rejoin the living,” she exclaimed, exasperated at trying to get him to see the light. Desperate to show him the error in his thinking. To ensure she wouldn’t lose him
after everything they’d gone through.
“I am alive,” he all but whispered.
“No, Moss. No, you’re not. You haven’t been living in a long time and you know it. You’ve hidden out here in the swamps and existed, not lived. Please come with me. Please let me help you,” she begged.
“Uh, guys … hate to interrupt this tender moment and all, but we’ve got company,” Damien shouted down the tunnel to them.
Hell. She’d all but forgotten about Damien’s presence.
“How convenient and thoughtful of you,” Octavia screeched. “The gang’s all here in one nice, tidy package. Ready to die, Beth?”
“Well, someone had their Cheerios pissed in,” Beth tarted, ready to square off with the witch once and for all.
Moss took up a protective stance in front of her. Guarding her, protecting her, and even though the situation was bleak, Beth beamed from ear to ear, proud her swamp warrior stood next to her. Well, in front for now, but Beth knew soon they’d battle side-by-side.
Part of her wanted to stick out her tongue at Octavia while chanting, “Nanny nanny boo boo,” right before giving Moss’s firm ass a squeeze. Rub in what she had access to and the old bitch didn’t, and never would again. Thankfully, her better self gained control.
She caught Damien sneaking up behind Octavia while the witch’s attention was on them. Beth wasn’t sure what Damien had in mind, but before Damien managed whatever he’d planned, a loud, angry shriek pierced the cave as Octavia whirled in the narrow passageway to face him.
Octavia raised a threatening hand. A shimmery blue light radiated from her fingertips as a storm erupted around them. One would swear a tornado had arrived, with the chaos generated. Sudden, gale-force winds came whipping down the tunnel, picking up loose sand from the cave’s floor. The debris stung as particles embedded in Beth’s skin. Moss, too, whirled, and before the stings from the sand could do any real damage, his body sheltered hers. Moss’s scales formed a protective barrier around him she prayed would protect him from whatever was happening.
She embraced Moss, thankful for his protection, but she feared for Damien’s well being too. If what they felt was merely the after effects of what Octavia was doling out to Damien, he couldn’t be faring too well.
She tried to shield her eyes enough to peek around Moss’s massive frame, but with all the flying dust bunnies from hell, her attempt proved useless. She hoped Damien would be all right.
Another ear-piercing shriek sprang forth, so high-pitched Beth actually thought her eardrums would burst. This shriek seemed to radiate even more rage than the last, and the surrounding stone enhanced the god-awful sound.
She again tried to see what played out behind them, but now it wasn’t the sand that was the issue, but a weird, blinding white light so intense she had no choice but to close her eyes and turn her head. When the light retreated, both she and Moss instinctively put their guards up for whatever drama the witch had pulled now.
Beth’s jaw hit the ground. For there in the center, where the bright light had just been, stood her aunt. And to say Grace looked pissed was a huge understatement. Huge.
“Aunt Grace?” Beth asked in shock, fearful this was yet another of the witch’s tricks.
“Well, sweetness, who else would it be?” Grace cocked her hip out with attitude and braced her hand on it. A most definite Grace move.
“Uh, well, I don’t know, but how, why?” Beth stuttered.
“We can get around to all the particulars later, dear. For now let’s concentrate on taking care of the old bitch once and for all, shall we?” Grace’s strong essence was awe-inspiring. She wasn’t rattled in the slightest.
The light Grace had emerged from still swirled slightly as did the debris from the dirt floor. But Beth could make out that Octavia had vanished.
“Your mother raised you better than that,” Grace tsked.
“Excuse me?” Beth asked, more bewildered by the second at her aunt’s sudden but welcome appearance.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your handsome young friend?”
If it were possible, Beth’s jaw would have dropped open even farther. She began to wonder if, somewhere along the way, she’d landed in Oz. The lollipop kids would be next to show, as they welcomed her to Munchkin Land and offered her a giant candy while gathering around her to sing and dance.
Hell, why not? They already had the Wicked Witch of the West. Maybe Aunt Grace was really Glenda the good Witch of the East. Oh, God … she really had lost her mind.
“Uh, okay. Moss, meet my Aunt Grace. Aunt Grace this is my, err … friend, Moss.” She almost bit her tongue off to keep from saying “boyfriend” but as it was, Aunt Grace cast a wary glance toward him. Moss, thankfully, seemed not to have noticed her uncertainty on how to announce him and stood in his usual, self-assured manner.
“No, dearest, your other handsome friend.” Aunt Grace flung her hand in the opposite direction and, pivoting on her heel, locked eyes with the battle-weary Damien.
“Damien?” Beth shot a wayward glance toward Damien, who still brushed away debris from his entanglement with the old hag. Realizing the conversation had turned to him, he paused and took interest in why. He stood just off from the abyss she nearly fell into, with Grace between him, Moss and her. The corridor was narrow, but wound through the cave to God only knew where.
“I, oh … he’s … ”
“A friend of mine,” Moss answered.
Beth was relieved to hear Moss claim Damien as friend once again. She wasn’t sure if they had been friends prior, but she sensed they hadn’t been enemies. She wouldn’t have relished anymore physical fallout between the two on her account.
“Let me introduce myself. I am Damien, and you, no doubt, are the exquisite Aunt Grace.” Damien bowed slightly before taking Aunt Grace’s hand in his and sweeping a light kiss across her knuckles.
Beth smiled, watching Damien, who actually appeared to be flirting. After everything that had just gone down, he was openly flirting with her aunt. Most curious yet was the way Aunt Grace it was responding. Her sweet, innocent aunt stunned her by acting all swoony. Beth watched the interaction between the two and knew her beloved aunt needed some male attention. Hell, maybe she had for quite some time.
Chapter Eighteen
They only had a few moments before all hell broke loose again. Though they couldn’t see her, it was obvious Octavia had returned by the smothering presence of evil permeating the dank cave. No doubt madder than all get out.
“Where the hell did you send her?” Beth whispered to Grace.
“I didn’t send her anywhere. Apparently the collision of our magic’s threw her off guard. She must have left until she knew what was happening.” Grace offered.
Beth’s hair stood on end. The others had sensed the witch’s return as well, by the wary stances they took. All went stock still as they scanned the dark recesses of the tunnel ahead of them. Only a few candles still flickered behind them in the tunnel, making visibility difficult at best. Octavia might have been out of sight, but they knew she was ready to strike.
“I want all three of you out of here this instant,” Grace whispered with an edge to her voice that left little room to argue.
“No way I’m leaving you,” Beth answered, standing her ground.
“Nor am I,” Damien declared, leaving only Moss.
“I do not wish for you to remain.” Moss growled in full agreement with Grace.
“Ahh, I like this one.” Grace grinned from ear to ear that Moss had agreed with her.
Pfft.
“Good thing you do, because right now I’m not real sure I do.” Livid didn’t come close to how Beth felt. This was her aunt, her blood. And her hero chose now to go all cavemanish? What happened to the man who dove head first into a bottomless pit to save her? The same
man who used his own body to shield her? So her he-man doubted her ability to take care of herself, did he?
Well, she’d show him. Boy, would she ever.
“I do not mean to hurt your feelings, but your aunt is right — this is no place for you.” Moss hated his next words; they made his stomach turn, but he would not let Beth down again. “Damien, take Beth to safety. I will stay with Grace and battle Octavia.”
“All right, buddy, we need to set a few ground rules. First, you do not speak for me. I have my own voice, thank you very much. Second, drop the caveman shit. You’re quite frankly pissing the shit out of me.” Beth shook, as angry as hell.
“Uh, guys, hate to be a killjoy,” Damien broke in, “but I don’t think this is the time to be arguing. Something stanky this way comes.” Damien backed up, sensing Octavia’s presence coming closer.
“Beth, if you insist on ignoring my warnings, at least have the good sense to get behind Moss. Please,” Grace begged, moving forward to stand closer to Damien.
Both her aunt and Damien stood in battle mode, and Beth had never seen her aunt like this before. Powerful, demanding, and all business. Wow, her aunt had been holding a lot back through the years. They’d have to have a little chat later, including how her aunt had found her.
As per her aunt’s instructions, Moss positioned himself right in front of Beth. He was protective, overbearing, and pig-headed, and she loved her swamp man. But she wasn’t an invalid and was damned tired of everyone treating her as such. She had powers too. Okay, not really powers more like little burps with bite … sometimes.
Freaky, hiss-like sounds slithered closer, as did the unusual sound of … barking? What in the hell? Making matters worse, the sound came from in front of and behind them. The minimal lighting from the few candles that had remained lit went out, plunging them into darkness.
“Damien, can you make them out?” Moss whispered.
“Got ’em in my sights. Geez, that’s a whole lot of leather.”
“Who? What? Leather? Damn it, you guys, what’s coming?” Beth feared their answer.
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