After a few hours I promoted myself from slouching in the chair to lying on the bed. My fast-evaporating energy’d had enough of holding up my weary head.
It took effort to nudge the lump aside to make room for me. Once there, I tucked my hands behind my head, stared up at the ceiling and resumed my mumbled commentary until frustration got the better of me.
I rolled onto my side, poked at his ribs. “Hey, I’m talking to you.”
He just lay there—eyes closed, body still, breaths shallow.
My hand gave a rough shove to his shoulder. “I’m getting a little sick of you not answering me, buster.”
No response. I hadn’t really expected one. Hoped, yes. Expected, no.
I tapped my fingers against his cheeks. “How much of a one-sided conversation do you think a girl can have before it gets boring, Josh?”
Nada—nothing.
What did I really expect? That if I hounded him enough, he’d give up the game and open his eyes just to shut me up?
Yeah, right! How can he answer? He’s in some sort of bloody coma, for goodness sake.
Jess told me there was nothing to be done unless she could find the right ingredients to work against the spell. I either believed what she said, or I didn’t. I couldn’t keep agreeing whenever it suited or decide her ideas were ridiculous each time they didn’t.
I groaned. Mental arguments didn’t bode well for my sanity. “Come on, Josh.”
I climbed on to sit across his hips, leaned over his chest to lift one of his eyelids. The eye beneath didn’t move or flinch—didn’t even dilate when introduced to the light.
My forehead lowered to rest against his. I stared at his features beneath me, brought my hands to his cheeks. “Don’t do this to me, Josh.”
Footsteps hit the landing. They paused across the threshold.
I inhaled, though why I expected it to be anyone other than Sean, I didn’t know.
“He won’t wake up,” I whispered.
“Then, you may as well sleep, too.”
“How can I?”
“Josh isn’t going anywhere, Jem.” As though aware of the reminder he’d just made, he added, “And you’ll be of no use if you don’t rest soon.”
“Do you have any idea how much you sound like your mother?”
He chuckled, drawing my attention to the doorway. His head jerked toward our room. “Come to bed with me, Jem. Feels cold in there without you.”
Though my lips formed the smile, I could still sense sadness in my expression as I climbed off the limp body beneath me. Sean’s embrace offered nothing but warmth after Josh’s lack of response, and I allowed him to fold me into his arms before peering back at the bed. “He will wake up . . .”
“He will. Everything’s going to be just fine, Jem.”
I let Sean’s words wash over me, the deep assurance in his voice somehow adding credence to the declaration, and nodded to convince myself further he spoke the truth.
Besides, Josh would wake up. The pack would go right back to the life we were accustomed to. Everything would be fine.
I’d make sure of it.
Acknowledgements
Okay, let’s hope I remember everybody.
With HUGE thanks to:
My man and kidlets: because you’re awesome.
My sister, Jenny: for reading the first draft of Blue Moon chapter by chapter and telling me when I’d strayed, and for helping with any research I needed doing at the drop of an email.
My best friend, Carla: because you read everything I deem worthy of torturing you with.
Aimee Laine: for helping to mould this from first draft long-windedness to who-knows-what draft with less waffle so we could save on the syrup.
Julie Reece and Jocelyn Adams: for helping me tear this baby apart ... just ... one ... more ... time.
My beta readers: Elaine Hart and Dawn Whipps, whose feedback (and encouragement) always mean so much.
My editor at J.Taylor: because she’s always willing to listen; and of course to the publisher, themselves, for their willingness to publish yet another story of mine.
Oh, yes, and I mustn’t forget Zoë: for not being mad when something happened to a character for whom I had stolen her name.
J.A. Belfield
One day, a character and scene popped into J. A. Belfield’s head, and she started controlling the little people inside her imagination as though she were the puppet master and they her toys. Questions arose: What would happen if …? How would they react if …? Who would they meet if …? Before she knew it, a singular scene had become an entire movie. The characters she controlled began to hold conversations. Their actions reflected the personalities she bestowed upon them. Within no time, they had a life, a lover, a foe, family …they had Become.
One day, she wrote down her thoughts. She’s yet to stop.
J. A. Belfield lives in Solihull, England, with her husband, two children, three cats, and a dog. She writes paranormal romance with a second love for urban fantasy.
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Blue Moon Page 34
