by Lily Luchesi
She nodded as she toyed with a locket she wore on a chain around her neck. I had not seen her adorned by jewellery before, and it seemed out of place.
“How do you know?” I discreetly inhaled, checking for an unexpected advance but finding none.
“She told me I would soon understand the mistake I am making. That some of the best lessons learned are the ones which we learn for ourselves.”
I tried to hide my frown but fell short of the effort. “Unusual words.”
“Mother can never be accused of being conventional.” She smiled. “This is good news for us, though, is it not? That I come here today, without a fight?”
“It is, yes.” My lips twitched. “Yet, you refuse to come closer.” When she turned to take a few more steps to the side, I added, “Or maybe it is reluctance?”
“Could you, at least, replace your shirt?”
“I could ... except I left it beside the river.”
Another dip of her head preceded a few more sidesteps. Had she noticed each movement brought her nearer? When she turned back to me, I curled my finger and beckoned to her. She shook her head but not before her cheeks heated and a small smile appeared.
With a chuckle, I pushed away from the trunk, taking a few paces forward.
Her face lifted. “Why do I suddenly feel so small beside you?”
“You are no smaller than you were Tuesday last, nor I any bigger.”
With a slight coyness, she reached out. My hand stretched to greet hers, and fingers, dainty and slender, entwined with mine. When I gave a gentle tug, she breathed out a laugh at her inelegant step forward, tilting her head to the side, as though to allow my inhalation of her scent. She seemed accepting of my behaviour—maybe she presumed it a quirk of mine—and no longer questioned my reasoning.
Nose to her throat, I drew her scent deep into my sinuses. Detecting the alien scent at the same moment that it located me, I pushed away with an aggression I did not intend.
Her eyes widened, as mine skimmed over her, searching for the source. It had to be upon her—the tingling that darted from my fingertips and toes, through my forearms and shins, told me as such.
“Mr Holloway?” Her voice sounded unsure.
“Where is it?” I demanded, still scouring her body. “Where did your mother put it?”
“Put it?” She stared at me. “Put what?” When her hand lifted to unconsciously twist at her pendant, I suspected I had my answer.
“Your locket—where did you get it?” The tingling spread upward toward my shoulders and thighs, joined by a prickle at the base of my skull that worked into my first vertebra.
Her forehead creased into a frown. “It was a gift from Mother. Why—?”
“You must remove it, Jem.” The needle-like sensation bled into my chest as the first ripple showed.
Eyes blinking, she stepped away. “I will not.”
“Jem, you must.”
I took two strides toward her, and she stumbled back, as I wrapped my fingers around the offending locket.
She grasped at the chain when I tried snapping it away, tugging back with more strength than she should have been able. “No, Mr Holloway,” she said with determination. “It was a gift.”
“Please, Jem.” The tightening of muscles worked against my vocal chords, and my voice came out deeper than planned.
I should have walked away then, given her the damn necklace and run, or yanked the blasted trinket from her hand and been done with it.
Yet, I could not bring myself to use force against her, and one final tussle achieved the worst possible outcome.
Jem’s hand slipped from her pendant, and as it broke apart in our hands, she flew backward with a cry, landing on her rear—leaving me holding the necklace.
However, the breaking of the clasp split the locket open, allowing a liquid to escape. Although a tiny amount, it trickled onto my hand, sifting through my pores. It took less than a second to locate my bloodstream, where my panicked heart pumped it through my body at a speed that brought immediate consequences and unbearable pain.
Wolfsbane as a liquid—I had never heard of it before.
I knew how fast my change came, could see it reflected in the terror in Jem’s eyes. My cries at the poison shooting through my veins did not sound human for long.
Jem did not move—perhaps her body refused to—but her rapidly moving chest portrayed her fear.
My limbs struggled to provide support during the excruciating transformation. The tearing of fabric broke through the roaring in my ears, both sounds uniting with the splitting of my skull.
Through those, I distinguished the small sobs that accompanied each rise of Jem’s chest. Each thudded beat of her heart.
I desperately wanted to tell her not to be afraid, that I wouldn’t hurt her, but I knew how we looked during a change and understood her justified reaction. I also knew it would be an unguaranteed assurance.
When my features shifted and hair pushed forth, she appeared to grasp will power from somewhere, and her feet finally scrambled her backward, kicking up dust that clouded my vision. Thick bramble stalled her crawled escape long enough that, with the final stretch of repositioning, realigning, restructuring behind me, I growled from my change and stood before her.
As wolf.
Gaze on hers, I gave a low whimper.
As though her cue to leave, she clambered to her feet, but fell, then pushed up again. She only looked away from me when her feet broke into a run.
Her flight, her fear-drenched scent, immediately categorised her as prey to my wolf’s mind, and as the predator within urged me to hunt, my head whirled to follow her escape as my paws took steps, my lips pulling back to reveal my excitement.
Just as fast, something within—like a plea for her safety—dominated my natural instincts, and I screamed at myself to halt.
My chest lurched forward, my claws grinding into the compacted dirt. A small growl of frustration—confusion, too—escaped from me, but I quickly reined it back in.
Remaining where I stood took effort, control, as my need to protect battled my natural instincts. Whilst her scent penetrated my mind, the yearning to pursue swelled within me, and my paws danced out my eagerness, my whines begging for relief. However, each disobedient step was met with the demands of my inner self to obey, until I felt sure it would drive me mad.
Needing at least some kind of relief, I tossed my snout skyward and expelled my emotions in a howl piercing enough to reach the far stretches of the forest—but what I usually found beautiful became nothing more than a forlorn song of failure, and my call just as quickly dwindled until only the sounds of the forest remained.
Turning away from that which I desired but refused to take, drawing even more control from what little reserve I had left, I hunkered down and willed my change to reverse.
8
The reversal took longer than usual, the forced change having torn at some of my muscles and tendons, adding further pain to the already agonising process. Coated in sweat, I remained in my crouch, my mind whirling over the situation.
Two people knew of my secret. I knew not how far Jem’s mother would go, with regards to exposure. As for Jem, I had no idea what the knowledge meant for her.
For us.
The idea that I had lost her because of it tore through my heart until moisture pricked my eyes.
I had never shed a tear before in my life, not when my father informed me my mother had died during childbirth—the same tale told to us all—nor on the day of his death.
I swiped at the wetness in irritation.
If my howled outbreak had informed James of my location, he would surely show up, sooner or later. A beating for my behaviour would be forthcoming. And for what? Had it all been for nothing?
Fisting a hand in my hair, I gave a low groan.
“Mr Holloway?”
My head snapped up. A glance over my shoulder found her behind me, crystals glistening over her cheeks, highlighting the gl
ow caused by emotions. I did not speak—knew not what to say.
As she moved in front of me, a small shudder wracked her body. She took not a wide circle, as expected, but came to stand close, and when I looked up, her eyes held a serious curiosity.
“’Tis you, Mr Holloway.”
I frowned at her quiet words.
“’Tis you I hear calling at night. You are the wolf, the one Mother warns me of. This ... this is the lesson she wanted me to learn ... is it not?”
I did not correct her, or explain there were more of us, but nodded.
As though weakened by the confirmation, she dropped to her knees. Her shoulders shook as grief shed from her eyes, and, lifting her hands, she smothered her face.
My view of her blurred—it took moments to understand my own eyes held responsibility, not hers, and I wiped my forearm across my cheeks to dry them. “Jem, I am sorry,” I said, my voice thick and distorted.
She lowered her hands. “For what?” Hiccups broke her words. “For allowing me to believe you are something other than what you are? For not telling me the truth?”
“I am forbidden to speak of it,” I said, but regretted my words instantly.
Her expression told me she had comprehended the implication of my response. “You confess feelings for me ... yet, you do not trust me. You believed I would turn my back on you, if I knew the truth, is that it? Or maybe you did not intend the words you imparted, Mr Holloway?” Her shoulders shook again, and her hands wrung in her lap. “Do you not mean what you say, when you tell me—”
Unable to witness her distress any longer, I reached out and drew her to me, her words becoming stifled as she pressed her face into my chest. The pounding of her heart hit me, as did the tremble of her desolation, the dampness of her tears spilling over my flesh.
“I meant every word I ever said to you, Jem,” I said into her hair. “I am so sorry. Forgive me.”
Hot, erratic breaths against my skin increased my own, as she slid a hand to the nape of my neck. “I am unsure if I can,” she whispered.
I lifted her chin. “Then, why did you come back?”
The pain in her eyes lessened to reveal soft warmth. “Despite Mother’s warnings, I trust in you.”
Relief flooded through me in a torrent of warmth. As I smiled, she lowered her gaze and removed her hand from my neck, as though recalling my state of undress, but I grasped it, urging it back until she touched me again.
Did she not see how simply being close to her washed me with calm?
Taking her face into my hands, I regarded her moisture-filled eyes, dipping my lips to sample the subtle flavour of her mouth. When she sighed, I moved to her cheeks and soothed away her tears, their salty taste clinging to my lips.
Bringing me back with a small tug of her hand, she pressed her lips to mine once more and kissed me hard, tasting me as though hungered. Her palms smoothed across my chest and shoulders, a sudden urgency to her touch. When my arm tightened around her, she curved her body until it moulded against mine, giving quiet gasps with each breath throughout the kiss, and her fingers worked into my hair, holding me to her.
Within seconds, the scent of her arousal ignited mine, setting a low rumble vibrating through my chest and filling my hips with a need to thrust forward. Encouraged by her eagerness, my fingers located the fastenings of her dress. As I eased it over her shoulders, her hands came to assist, and in one upward glide, I stood and lifted her from the fallen fabric.
A chemise, her only undergarment, clung to her slender form. As I lowered her to the ground, her arms around my neck brought me down with her, until I covered her body with mine, and so close to her flesh at last, I could not rein in my low growl of want.
Locating the rapid pulse at her neck, I nuzzled there, and she arched into me, her fingers clutching at my back before reengaging my hair. I pulled away her straps to release her breasts. Willingness showed in her lowering lids and quickened breaths, as my lips touched the swell of each firm mound. Unable to wait a moment longer, I finally reached below her slip.
Her honeyed thighs parted to grant access, and warm wetness welcomed my fingers. As I suckled her nipples, pert in the cool air, her low moan accompanied the press of my erection against her leg. Before I could act on the throbbing urge to pound into her, eager hips pushed upward as she claimed control.
Swollen with need, she brushed against me until united with my tip. Her body trembled. She gave a low whimper, and the aroma of her desire overwhelmed my senses, weakening my control.
“I will not have you without your permission, Jem,” I said, lowering my lips to her ear.
Lashes lowered, her gaze sought mine. “Take me,” she whispered. “I am yours.”
I entered her with a slowness that took immense effort. When she gave a low cry born of a gasp, I halted at the thought of causing her pain and began to withdraw, but her hands snared me, her ankle hooked mine.
“Sean.”
Startled by the sound of my Christian name upon her lips, I gazed down at her.
“Please.” She urged me back, raising her legs to encircle my hips. “I do not wish for you to stop.”
Entering her once more, I returned to her lips and tasted her sigh, swallowed her quiet gasp. Once further strokes assured me she was in no pain, I burrowed my nose in search of her scent and lost myself in her, with a tenderness I had never before had a yearning to express.
***
She had been right in her earlier words: she did appear small beside me. Her slender legs entwined with the dense muscular strength of mine. I was certain I would crush her, yet she made no complaint. The dainty curve of her hip seemed weak beneath my heavy palm, as I offered a soothing caress. Even the size of her fingers held infantile proportions, whilst placed upon my cheek, as we lay facing one another upon the forest floor.
Half closed, her eyes reflected her sated mood. “Sean,” she whispered, smiling.
I gave a deep chuckle. “Six.”
Her lips curved farther, before she whispered again, “Sean.”
“Seven.” With a smile, I moved my hand beneath her slip to feather my fingers across her back, passing over the drying blood coating her rear.
“Sean,” she said again.
I laughed, sliding her closer until her stomach pressed to mine. “How long will you continue to say a word you have refused to speak for weeks?”
“Until it ceases to make you smile. Besides ...” She brushed her lips over mine. “You asked me to repeat it.”
“That, I did.”
Her hair, which had come loose, curled around my fingers, as I toyed with it. When I skimmed my teeth across her jaw, she pushed into me, until her exposed breasts embraced my chest. The contact revived my arousal, and I closed my eyes at the building rumble deep within me.
“Once more,” I whispered, my earlier words a mere tease.
“Sean.” Her quiet giggle vibrated against me.
Erect once more, I smiled as I rolled with her. My hand slid the length of her torso, over hip, before I raised her knee as I nestled back within her arms and her thighs. When I looked into her eyes, all humour had vanished, only whirling emotions appeared to remain.
“I love you,” she whispered, the quiet way with which she said the words portraying her vulnerability.
I paused, but for less than a breath, before I gave a slight nod. “I, too, am in love with you, Jem.”
As she sighed, I lowered my mouth with the intention of devouring her again, but at almost inaudible scuffling too close to be a coincidence, my head snapped up, my lips already drawn back on the verge of a snarl.
Giles stepped out from behind a yew. I had no idea how long he had been there, but a frown smothered his forehead, and his feet shuffled atop the dirt. Showing his palms, he gave a shrug of his shoulders.
The snarl died in my throat, as I tried to decode his behaviour.
Both of his hands pointed to the left in sharp stabs. When I still didn’t respond, he rolled his ey
es before he hissed out a word to fill me with dread. “James.” He pointed again.
Panic beat through me, and, as though sensing the shift in my mood, Jem twisted toward where I stared, but Giles had ducked out of sight too fast, leaving nought but empty air.
She turned back to me. “Sean?”
“We need to leave.” I jumped up, lifting her with me. “I am truly sorry.” Confusion drew tight creases across her brow and aside her eyes, as I snatched up her discarded dress and strode back to take her hand. “Hurry.”
“But ...” She stared at me as though she considered me irrational. “I am not dressed, Sean.”
“Please, Jem.” With no time to waste, I wrapped my arm beneath her rear. “I will explain, I promise.”
Jem did not protest further, as I took off with her in one arm, her clothing over my other. Not wishing to upset her more than I already had, I refrained from running, but my strides were long, and she clung to my shoulders against the jolt of each of my steps.
“My brother is searching the forest for me,” I said once we had travelled a short way.
Her studying stare burdened my conscience, as though she awaited elaboration.
I took a deep breath. “He disapproves of you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are human.” I studied her features before continuing, “Because it is against pack rules to engage in a relationship—”
“Pack?” she whispered.
“If he finds I have brought you into the forest, he will be furious.” I averted my attention, ignoring that I had told her more than I should.
“So, there are others?”
I nodded. “He is already angered by me, because I disobeyed by sneaking out today, to meet you. I will not have him vent his wrath upon you, as well as me. You need to leave the forest before he reaches us.”
“Then, you must leave with me, also, Sean.”
Fear darkened her eyes when I glanced back. “I cannot.”
“But, if you are in danger yourself, you must,” she said, her tone adamant.
“I have nowhere else to go.”
“Come home with me. I will take care of you.”
