Once they calmed their raging hormones, they did a quick clean-up and made their way toward the living room. She blushed at the very thought of having to face Grace and Damien. Hopefully they’d been outside and wouldn’t be aware of what they’d been up to.
As they rounded the corner from the darkened hall into the quaint living quarters, Moss gave her hand an added squeeze. Just that little something she needed to calm her nerves and remind her of their secret tryst.
To her surprise, the living room was still deserted. How long had Damien and her aunt been out on the porch? A tingling zinged through her, warning her all was not right. Danger lurked near.
“Moss, something’s off,” she whispered.
“What do you mean, off?” Moss froze at her words of warning, throwing a protective arm in front of her.
“Something feels wrong, like when you have a déjà vu. You can remember something, but not necessarily what.” She’d never quite been able to describe the buzz she got before her internal alarms went off.
Moss’s posture went rigid, and Beth sensed he’d come to the same conclusion.
“She’s been here.” He had no need to explain who he meant.
Chapter Twenty-One
“Grace!” Screaming, Beth bolted past Moss’s protection, desperation for her aunt’s well-being fueling her every move. She only managed a few steps before Moss efficiently tossed her over his shoulder for safekeeping.
“Let me go,” she hissed, kicking and clawing every square inch of him she could reach.
“You will remain here. I will go check out back. Don’t forget, Damien was with her. I saw how he looked at her. He won’t allow any harm to come to her.”
Beth didn’t waste time arguing; deep down she knew he was right. She’d sensed the kinship between her aunt and Damien; actually she’d sensed a lot more than that, but what if Octavia or her minions had snuck up on them? What if Damien wasn’t who he claimed to be? Octavia had whispered something to Damien back at the cave. Damien claimed not to have really wanted to kidnap Beth but had done so on Octavia’s commands. Who was to say he wouldn’t obey her orders again?
More than anything, though, she knew Moss was better prepared to scope out what was happening than she. If someone lurked about or if it a trap had been set, as she felt he suspected, she was too emotionally charged not to go off half-cocked.
She waited in the shadows for Moss to return. Freaked out a bit when she lost the sounds of his footsteps and, considering how tiny the cabin was, knew he’d gone into stalking mode. Her stomach twisted at not hearing the comforting sounds of him close by.
Finally, he called out that it was safe for her to join him. The cabin and yard were deserted.
So, where had they gone? Had Octavia and her nasty-ass swamp minions kidnapped them? Or had they seen the trouble coming and managed to elude them?
“I see no signs of a struggle, yet Octavia wouldn’t have come and left with nothing,” Moss stated, genuinely puzzled.
Beth knew he was right. Something was amiss. Octavia was far too vengeful to have come all this way only to leave empty-handed. She and Moss had just been in the other room, and Octavia would have sensed their presence. So why just leave? It didn’t make a lick of sense.
Just then, the back door flew open, and Grace and Damien staggered in. Beth flew into her aunt’s arms. Relief washed through her, calming her frayed nerves in an instant.
“What happened?” Beth asked still not having released Grace from her bear hug.
“I’m fine … we’re fine. No reason to stress, honey. Damien sensed Octavia’s presence just before she barreled out of the woods with those nasty little groupies of hers. We hid out in the swamps, and I sorta cast a wee little spell,” Grace stated proudly. Her eyebrow cocked up as she shot a triumphant look at Damien, who grinned like the cat that ate the canary.
“A little spell? Uh oh. This should be good.”
“Yes, wee — little. I couldn’t touch her, but her lackeys were susceptible enough. She stormed off madder than a wet hen, no pun intended, her lackeys loudly in tow.” Both she and Damien burst into laughter.
“And?” Beth pressed.
“They waddled closely behind, quacking the entire time,” Damien finished for her.
“Quacking? As in quack, quack like a duck?” Beth snorted.
“Exactly like ducks. Very pissed off ducks with extremely loud quacks to boot,” Grace added between gasps for breaths from laughing.
After they’d all managed to contain themselves, having had a much-needed break from all the stresses and emotions of the day, Beth remembered the spell she’d run across.
“Speaking of spells, I found one I think might be of use against Octavia. One that’s sure to slam some of her own medicine down her throat.” Good, she’d gained their undivided attention.
“Exactly which spell did you find?” Grace asked, sounding both curious and proud.
“Well it’s similar to a redundancy spell but taken from chapter three, specializing in mirroring and erasing spells.”
“Perfect. Utterly perfect.” Grace beamed proudly. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten about that old family recipe.”
At the term recipe, both men bristled. Beth was sure neither would actually classify what had been done to them as a recipe, but after shooting each other speculative looks she understood they’d decided to stay mum about Grace’s faux pas. So long as there was a way to stop Octavia’s evil wrath, neither seemed to care who called it what.
The four worked through the night gathering the required ingredients for the potent spell, each growing quiet as the night drew on. Moss and Damien knew that if all went well, Octavia would no longer be in control of them.
But what of their own particular plights? What of changing back? Did they even still want to change back? All these years — no, centuries — of being at one with the swamps, could they give it up? More to the point, did they, deep down, even want to try? So much was riding on this spell, riding on Octavia’s downfall.
Beth contemplated what Octavia’s being out of the picture might mean for her. Yes, Moss cared for her. But would he still care when a virtual smorgasbord of gorgeous women was thrust at him? He’d been away from society for eons, and now, soon, he would be back among civilization. She could just imagine how women would react to him. All that predatory maleness wrapped up in a ripped package just ripe for the pickings.
Would he still think her beautiful compared to others of her gender? Or would she turn out to have simply been a choice of convenience, because there’d been no other to choose from? Her mind took in the image of her slightly bigger than average hips, breasts that weren’t as high as they’d once been, and a stomach not as taut as years earlier. What would he think when he saw the beautiful, plastic people of today’s world, with their silicone breasts in pert perfection and tummies tucked tighter than a military cot? Far more toned and defined than she, with their sickening, perfectly sculpted abs?
She cast a wayward glance toward Grace, noting her quiet state. What was rolling through Grace’s mind? Was she worried as well about what would happen after Octavia was vanquished?
Secretly, Beth stared at Moss. He was silent, his posture stiff as he worked the task Grace had given him of finding assorted herbs out at the swamp’s edge. He seemed methodical in his task, while lost in thought. As nervous as she was, the sight of his muscles bunching as he stretched and pulled native herbs from their roots had her nether regions quivering in excitement.
• • •
Moss gathered the requested items and acknowledged the butterflies swarming in his stomach. Freedom would soon be his, or so he hoped. There was no assurance the spell would revoke his or Damien’s current states of being, but it was the closest hope either had ever had.
Would Beth still be attracted to
him when he was a simple mortal again? Maybe he’d over thought the whole idea of setting her free because he wasn’t human. Maybe the very danger that surrounded him had drawn her to him.
So damn much was at stake, for all of them.
He stood partially hidden by a cypress and watched Beth as she quietly exited the cabin. She went to stand at the porch banister as she scanned the area. Part of him longed to call her over to him. To tell her of his fears and pray she could put them to rest. Then there was the part of him that was too fearful to ask. The part that would take every last second they might have together and relish them.
He continued hiding behind the sanctity the cypress offered, watching in awe of her beauty. The way the moon made her blonde hair appear silvery as the gentle swamp winds played with it. The strands floating about so it appeared she had a halo. In truth, he didn’t doubt her an angel sent from heaven above to rescue his dark soul.
She was as graceful as he imagined a celestial being would be, and as sweet as one too. Her heart was pure and wholesome as no other he’d met. Even more than his late wife’s, whom he’d adored.
Moss watched her leave the porch and edge her way through the darkness down to the water’s edge, a dangerous place to be in the evenings. Too many swamp predators came out to feed at this time.
Just before he reached her side, he saw her turn toward him, an unspoken fear passing between them. Moss sought to somehow reassure her — of what, he wasn’t certain. He didn’t like the thought of her fearing anything. What caused the moisture that glinted in her eyes? He stalked toward her, arms opening, and was comforted by the fact she turned, heading directly for him. Unfortunately, before she made it, before he could embrace her and assure himself that at least for now she was still his, Damien called out for both to return. Grace needed them.
He tried to smile, wanted to assure her no matter what the outcome with Octavia, Beth would forever hold his heart. While he wouldn’t hold her to any promises previously made to him, she would always be his, whether she was with him, or free in her world.
• • •
Beth saw his tentative smile, as if he were unsure what to say. Was this the beginning or the end for them? Her heart felt as though it were about to break in two at not knowing for sure.
Wasn’t that the saying? That not knowing something was sometimes the worse kind of hell? She could believe it. She’d been so close to asking. Close to throwing all the cards on the table and hoping for the best. Thankfully, Damien had saved her from possibly making an ass of herself. It wouldn’t be the first time, and given her luck, it likely wouldn’t have been the last.
Wordlessly, she took Moss’s offered hand and they turned for the cabin. Just as they were about to enter, Moss grabbed her from behind, his hands firm and near bruising as he swung her around and laid one on her.
The kiss sucked all the air from her lungs, left her legs wobbly, Jell-O like, heating her blood as her heart pumped to catch up.
Her tongue gave back as it received, as did her hands as she groped the firm curve of his ass and pulled him into the cradle of her pelvis. Her clit rode the bulge behind his zipper, and she hissed at the delicious friction. His body seemed to shake under her hands as he pressed her firmly against the cabin’s wooden door. For a split second, she thought to raise a leg over his hip, an offering, a pleading for more.
But there was much riding on what was to come.
Their futures.
Moss lifted his lips from hers, letting them linger them on her forehead before brushing gentle kisses above each eyelid.
“I will always love you,” he vowed.
“And I you,” she returned, knowing he could not promise himself entirely to her until he at least got to see what the world had to offer. It wouldn’t be right, no matter how badly it would hurt.
Grace opened the door as they stepped back to let them know everything was prepped for the ingredients they’d found. They were nearly ready for battle.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Thick, harsh smoke billowed from Octavia’s cabin, no doubt from the strange herbs they’d discovered growing in baskets hanging from each corner of the porch. When they arrived, they’d found Octavia gone, but she’d left in a hurry as the stinky potions bubbling and steaming indicated. No one doubted they’d missed her by mere minutes. Why had she left? Had she been tipped off about their plan?
The first step of their plan was to obtain the Book of Souls. The book Damien had briefly seen but overheard much about. In this book were the names of all those Octavia had captured and turned. Beth hoped the bitch had made notes of what became of them. If a cure existed, it would be within the pages of this book. The cure for Moss and Damien was close, but not close enough. If they found it, Beth would make it her own personal goal to attempt to aid all the swamp creatures not born as such. Reflecting on what she’d learned of her aunt’s betrothed, Beth supposed some might choose to remain as their animal or reptile counterparts.
Damien and Grace kept watchful eyes for Octavia’s approach, while Beth and Moss scoured the place for the book. They grabbed any book that looked important. Or, in her opinion, creepy. Later, when they had more time, they would study the contents. Right now, though, they needed to search until they found the Book of Souls and the potential cure.
Step two of the plan was to destroy all magical things associated with Octavia. Her resources, strange ingredients, and every damn glass jar with funky shit inside. Essentially, they hoped to give her magic a severe handicap, and themselves an advantage. Step three if they succeeded in accomplishing the first, two was to douse Octavia in the brew Grace concocted. The potion should render her unable to perform any and all magic. Whether dark or light, she’d either be a powerless old woman, or there was the possibility that without her magic, she’d shrivel away to nothing.
Beth glanced out the window and caught her aunt studying Damien as he scanned the area. Both had been oddly quiet and distant since they’d arrived at Octavia’s cabin. Had Damien been in love with the witch? Was he still? Grace seemed in awe of the warrior who carried his scars within. Something had tortured him emotionally.
Beth prayed his peculiar behavior was the product of the prospect of a cure and not some strange, twisted loyalty toward Octavia. He’d been with her for a very long time. Been a devoted and faithful companion who once thought himself in love with her. It would be strange if some sense of responsibility didn’t linger. Why this thought only now came to mind Beth couldn’t be sure, but suspected it had something to do with the way her aunt looked so longingly toward him. Beth caught an image in her aunt’s mind of Damien embracing Octavia. The vision made Grace’s stomach churn, then — poof — her link with Grace broke. Beth caught Damien stealing quick glances at Grace, a strange look on his face, as if he’d read her mind. Beth turned away from the window. She didn’t have time to contemplate her own relationship, much less theirs.
Beth went to search for Moss when a strange feeling came over her. Strange, powerful and familiar. He’d gone into Octavia’s bedchamber to pilfer around in the hopes of finding a secret compartment hiding the Book of Souls. She tried to call to him, but her vocal cords refused to cooperate. The sensation of ice pumping through her veins spread, freezing her to the core. It began at her throat and made its way rapidly procession to wrap its icy grip around her heart.
She couldn’t call to Moss or anyone else. She remained frozen in place and in fear.
• • •
Moss turned the room inside out. He and Beth had already gone through every nook and cranny and come up empty handed. Short of the fact they’d at least destroyed much of Octavia’s magical wares, this trip was a total bust. Yet he knew deep down the book was here. Its power called to him.
He stopped. Opened his senses and rescanned the room. Haunting memories of times past flooded back. Times best forgotten. Nigh
ts with Octavia in this very room, doing revolting things. Those dark memories rooted deep, caused horror to seep into his soul.
The first time he’d been with Octavia had been magical. He’d thought himself so beneath her. Though she’d used him as nothing more than a glorified slave, his heartbreak had driven him to consent to her every wish and twisted sexual fantasy. He’d thought her his savior — and now to learn she’d been the reason of the heartache … He’d followed her like the lamb to the slaughter.
She’d been beautiful. Exotic in every sense of the word. Long, lean, shapely legs … the type any man visualizes wrapped about his waist. Her long, dark hair cascaded about her like a midnight cloak. When she’d allowed him to undress her, he’d grown hard as a diamond. Her body was exquisite. Taut belly, firm breasts with mocha-tipped nipples. Mocha? He thought harder of that night. Of her appearance, trying to remember any flaw he’d overlooked. Shit, how had he not realized? He remembered now, quite clearly, the tiny, faint slivers of silver striping her belly.
Faint as they’d been, he’d seen them. Proof Octavia had a child. A child or, heaven forbid, children somewhere? Could he himself have fathered a child with her during one of their many trysts? And if his reasoning was on target, where were her children?
He turned to announce this possible bit of information when a floorboard creaked beneath his boot. Moss stepped back and forth over the area until a slight give in one of the boards, under the edge of the bed and against the far wall, revealed which one had creaked. Had he not gone so far, he’d never have found it.
Kneeling down, he ran his fingers about the board until he found the tiny rise separating the piece from the rest. With a gentle tug, the board sprang up. Hearing stones scraping together, he turned in time to see the fireplace jut from the wall an inch. The board itself was merely a trip lever for the hidden opening. He approached with apprehension and awe. In all the times he’d been in this room, he’d never known the secret passage existed.
Swamp Magic (Crimson Romance) Page 13
