by Lily Luchesi
“Sean!” The yell for attention grated my throat.
Moisture coated my soles from the damp grass, but could not compete with that pouring from my body. My nightdress clung to my back, to my thighs, hindering every step until I grasped it into a bundle at my hip and freed my movements. At least the tingling had stopped, although I did not believe the spreading numbness that had taken its place to be an improvement in the slightest.
“Sean!” I cared not if the werewolf heard my shouts. A heavy beat at my rear told me the outsider pursued, spurring my pulse into a frantic rhythm. “Giles!”
One long step. One short step. The pattern of my feet altered beneath the pressure of my twisting limbs. I gasped in each breath, panted them back out as I fought against the rippling across my flesh, hoping to ward off the change long enough for me to reach my sanctuary.
“Sean!” A weaker attempt, dampened by my shortened breaths.
Mere yards from my goal, cramps tore through both legs, ankle to knee, knee to hip. Both refused to work. Both hauled me down with such viciousness, my palms slapping against the grass could do little to save the force with which my chest landed. Air whooshed from me, a stolen commodity, my grunt bursting out as a high-pitched cry.
I kicked off with my toes.
They found no traction.
I pushed off with my hands.
My arms lifted me little more than a foot, before the thud against my back knocked me down.
My cheek bashed against the moist ground, jarring my teeth.
“I admire your grit, Jem.” His rough voice drawled beside my ear. “But I have neither the time, nor inclination, for such games this morn.”
I could not have answered even if I had wished to. The transformation of my legs threatened to rage through me, and where they had folded beneath me, my arms did not fare much better. If the lump did not remove himself from me, and fast, he would find himself atop a wolf.
His arm slipped beneath my abdomen, bringing a sudden awareness of how my body lay exposed.
My eyes widened as he rammed me back in place against him, and my cry heightened to keening as my first vertebra exploded with pain. Each of the proceeding thirty-two un-aligned with the same debilitating agony, burning fire into my coccyx upon landing there, and after a split second, the order reversed, inflicting me with the same agony as they all crunched back into place.
“Damn!”
His curse arrived as a distant echo, and all surrounding landscape became a merged mutation of colours. No definition. No clarity. A concoction of confusion.
“No!” A scream of rage.
My body fell in what seemed like a perpetual plunge, before smacking rump first into the ground. Through the roar in my brain that signified the splitting of my skull, it registered that the werewolf had dropped me at the same time as the shouts of my name penetrated my mind.
“I shall be back for you, Jem.” The werewolf’s harsh whisper snaked past my ear.
As the warmth of his breath disappeared, a thunderous beat filled my ears, shaking the entire earth the closer and louder it grew.
“Jem!”
Pain erupted through my face. Like glass shattering into shards, bone shifted about, stabbing through my skin, before re-knitting to form a new mould.
Three racing bodies whirred by, all three moving with a speed that outshone human abilities.
A whimper left my throat as their scents wafted to me. Charles, Giles and Philip. Blinking to clear my vision, I tried to lift my head, to whirl after them, but the pure musk of my mate sang to me when his hands took my face.
“Jem, look at me.” As he urged me around, a blanket of calm enshrouded my soul. His shoulders heaved with his huge sigh, although his expression did not lose its urgency. “Tell me he did not harm you.”
I huffed out my response and leaned into his palms.
“I need you to stay here. Do you understand?”
Without awaiting a response, he stroked around my ear and pushed to his feet. With the scruff of his shirt in his grip, he dragged the garment off and tossed it aside. His trousers followed, and after sending me a final look of concern, he slipped just inside the tree line and broke into a sprint.
I watched him disappear, the bobbing of bodies drawing my attention that way, to where Charles and Philip kept pace with Giles in pursuit of the outsider. He’d had a good lead, and they had yet to close it, possibly as none of them had changed to four legs and ran without the added speed afforded in wolf form.
I looked from them toward the sounds of Sean’s passage, back to the chase. It took me three heartbeats to make up my mind. Sean could reprimand me later, but I had no intention of remaining behind.
I wriggled backward, out of my nightdress, and headed for the chase.
Sunlight streamed over the treetops, blinding me until I broke into the forest’s shade to follow Sean’s path. Twigs cracked beneath the pound of my paws. Tiny dirt clouds puffed up, filling the air with natural mustiness.
Tracking Sean could not have been easier. His bouquet left a trail upon everything he touched and lured me forth as it always had. Although I needed to do more than catch him—I needed to overtake him. That way, he’d concern himself with matching my pace instead of pausing to send me back, and his transitional change would assure my success in the plan.
In less than a minute, the semi-vertical form of Sean appeared through the brushes ahead. His body twitched and shimmered with every step. Each of his heavy breaths merged with a grunt. I held back just long enough for his change to complete and surged forward before all four of his paws had hit the ground.
My advance trampled a fast passage, and he whirled, lips rippling. Deep warning shone from his eyes, but I did not slow. Instead, I sent him a grunt to keep going as I darted past.
Breaths against my rump told me when he caught me, as did the long, low growl that vibrated through my flank as he brushed alongside my body.
Pretending I had not heard, I worked my legs harder and raced toward the rest of the pack.
What had initially appeared around sixty yards became forty, thirty, and it took only a few pounds of my paws more for Giles to glance behind. He turned his head to his left, his lips forming what I presumed to be a command—confirmed when the wall of three split far enough to allow Sean and me to pass without having to run around them.
Sean gave a small barge into my side—a gentle attempt to stutter my flow. I forced my claws deep into the ground and drove one right back his way, earning me another deep growl of discontent.
After sending him an impressive one of my own, I ignored him to focus solely on our prey, as it leaped for a stile less than six yards away.
As the male jumped from the barrier, Sean and I dove up and onto it, and as he landed, we shoved off—Sean aiming low as I soared over his head.
The charge of Sean’s shoulders into the male’s spine snapped his head back, exposing his throat at the same time as jerking it from the aim of my jaws. My underbelly skimmed his shoulder as I flew past him, the ground crunching beneath my paws on landing.
A spiral of earthly hues dashed past my vision as I gambolled forward.
As soon as my rolling ceased, I flicked back onto all fours and whirled to find the outsider already scrabbling backward from the advancing jaws of my mate.
Sean took a step forward for every kick away the male managed.
I tensed to leap, to bound in and assist, but halted as Sean swung my way and let out a warning growl.
The instant he diverted his attention, the outsider’s foot shot out and slammed into his muzzle.
With a loud yelp, Sean stumbled aside, and the outsider jumped to his feet and succeeded with another shot.
A growl tore from me at the jolt of Sean’s head, rippling my lips on passage. My body vibrated against my mental command, to remain still and obey Sean’s order to stay out of the fight.
He darted his muzzle forward, snatched at the outsider’s arm as it thrust his way. Tee
th clamping down, Sean gave a sharp tug to the right, the metallic aroma of blood tainting the fresh morning as he ripped skin away.
A cry poured out from the male—one more of fury than pain—and every muscle in his arms pulsed as he flung his entire weight in Sean’s direction. Even the thickness of Sean’s coat did little to diminish the slap of meeting bodies.
Lifting one paw after another, I danced on the spot, forward, back, left, right, my head twitching side to side, following the tumble of flesh and fur.
Snarls, grunts, huffs, growls, all battled with the echo of thrown punches and the snap of teeth.
After minutes of my watching and whining from the side lines, Sean jabbed his muzzle forward, whipped his jaws around the outsider’s throat, and drove him to the ground.
Even then, the male’s arms flailed, his fists landing upon Sean’s shoulders. His legs kicked, each effort knocking Sean off balance.
Yet, Sean did not let go. With lips vibrating, saliva dripping from his maws and sliding along the outsider’s neck, Sean snarled out his call of victory an instant before he yanked his head to the right.
I should have been appalled by the spray of crimson, should have had an urge to glance away as blood spilled beneath the male’s crown and shoulders.
Only excitement thrummed through me as the sweet scent of death left me both exhilarated and concerned, and as the euphoric emotion won out, I darted forward to my mate.
Just as I reached him, the rest of the pack hopped the stile, all of them coming to a standstill as they glanced from Sean to me, and to the blood spilling over the dried strands of grass.
Giles raked his fingers through his hair and took a step forward, his hand held out toward me. “Jem?”
I snorted a breath. My ears pricked up at a whine from Sean, and I closed my eyes as his tongue warmed my muzzle, tilting my nose up as he cleansed me despite there being no soiling.
“Good, clean her up, but do it faster,” Giles said.
I ignored him, whilst Sean licked across the other side of my face, a rough purr rumbling deep in my chest when he burrowed himself into the thickness coating my neck.
“We need to get rid of this scum. I am quite certain we all need a good scrub. And there is little time already ...”
Giles may have rambled on, but the bliss of being groomed by my mate lulled me to calmness.
“For goodness sake, the wedding is scheduled to begin in less than five hours.”
My body froze. Eyes opening, I stared at Giles for a moment.
Without giving Sean a second glance, I bolted away, diving for the fence.
“Oh, hell.”
The stile vibrated at my rear, as I bounded to the other side and hit the ground at a run.
“Jem!” Giles’s feet slammed to the ground. “Wait for me!”
10
“He saw you this morn?” Mother asked, as soon as I emerged from my bedroom.
“No.” I shook my head. “Not really. Or ... not exactly.” I wrung my hands for the hundredth time, chewing on my lip some more. “Does it count if he only saw me as wolf?”
She smiled, although I saw the hint of exasperation in her eyes. “Let us hope not.”
“Perhaps you could douse us in a good luck potion?” I asked, as she steered me toward the tub of steaming water before the fire. “Would that not overrule any ill luck by which we may now be tainted?”
“You do not need luck, Jem.” She slid my robe from my shoulders. “You have love.”
The front door swung open, and Giles’s nose appeared through the gap. “Is she—”
“You are not permitted to enter this room, Giles Masters,” Mother said.
No more than a singular footstep hit the floorboards. “Apologies, Mrs Stonehouse. I shall retreat.”
“You may wait no farther than the front yard.” Mother’s smile warmed her eyes. “And I shall call you just as soon as the tub is free.”
My first laugh of the day breathed from me as I imagined his face.
The water soothed my bruises when I stepped into it, even more so once Mother began pouring the liquid across my shoulders.
“Are you going to speak to me of this morning, Jem?” she asked quietly.
“There is little to discuss.” I did not mention that I had yet to find warmth since changing back, as thoughts of my reaction to what I had witnessed stampeded my mind. With much effort and concentration, I refocused on what was still to come instead. “I shall not allow what happened to mar this day for me, Mother. Tomorrow shall be soon enough to ponder.”
Although I suspected she had plenty of questions to which she wanted answers, she did not force the matter. Within no time, my hair lay sodden along my spine, any traces of the outsider’s scent had been banished, and she led me toward my bedroom enwrapped in a soft cotton shroud.
The rest of the morning passed by with ease. Although, by far, the most humorous point had been listening to Giles’s protests when Mother insisted she clean behind his ears. Jessica had almost dropped the curtain of my hair she brushed, she giggled so hard. By lunchtime, the mood had lightened, and I could almost believe every spent hour had gone as initially planned.
During a rare moment alone, I stood before my reflection. My gown fit just as perfectly as it had two days prior. The way Jessica had drawn choice strands away from my face and secured them at my nape complimented the shape of my face—the delicate navy petals she had worked in highlighted my irises, also.
I pointed my toes until one sapphire slipper poked out from beneath my hem, but looked up at a bulge pushing through the curtain, just in time to see Jessica and Mother enter. My eyes widened for a second at the gown my sister wore, only a few shades lighter than my shoes, and the tiny white flowers she had woven into her darker hair.
“One cannot get married without a bridesmaid, Jem,” she said with a smile.
Beside her, Mother held a floral arrangement of tiny cream roses amongst delphiniums, sweet pea, and bluebells that would match both Jessica’s and my attire.
I stared at the unnatural brightness of the petals.
As though noticing my scrutiny, Mother’s lips twitched, the glint of amusement in her eyes. “Do you like them? I was uncertain I could get them to absorb in time, but …” She held them up, tilted her head. “I am quite happy with the outcome.”
“I love them.” I smiled as I took them from her and spun back to check the entire ensemble.
“One last detail,” Jessica said, coming up behind me, a mesh of cream in her hands. “Your veil.” As soon as she had slid the comb into my hair and arranged the fine fabric over my face, she took a step back.
After a moment longer to study myself, I turned to them. “How do I look?”
Neither woman made an utterance. They had no need. The smiles on their faces and pride shimmering in their eyes spoke louder than any words could have.
“Come on, Jem!” Giles’s voice rumbled through the curtain. “’Tis time to go.”
“Then I shall require your arm, Sir.”
His head peeked around the curtain, and he appeared utterly stunned for seconds, until he blinked, and his body emerged.
I smiled at his pressed trousers, his brilliant white shirt, and the navy cravat at his throat. “Why, Giles. You do clean up rather well.”
“As do you,” he said, crossing the room.
“Do you think Sean will like me?”
Giles ducked down until his gaze levelled with mine. “I believe Sean shall be salivating aplenty this day.” He straightened with a grin, holding out his crooked elbow. “Shall we?”
Releasing a deep sigh, I accepted his arm and allowed him to lead forth.
***
I waited in the vestibule, as Mother opened the inner doors wide enough to squeeze through, and watched as she disappeared into the church proper.
Giles fidgeted beside me, adjusting his scarf, his shoes scuffing the slate floor. “Nervous?” he asked.
“Not in the slightest.”
I realised I had spoken the truth.
“Stonehouse ladies do not suffer with nerves. We are forged of iron and moulded with love.”
I smiled at Jessica’s voice behind me.
“At least, that is what Father always used to tell me, anyway,” she said.
Giles’s deep chuckle told me she had succeeded in breaking into his tension. At least, until the church organ echoed through the thick wood of the doors, and I began shuffling once more.
“Really, Giles.” I rolled my eyes beneath my shield and stepped forward, pulling him with me. “Anyone would think it your wedding.”
“The notion alone of me getting married is absurd.” He reached for the door and swung it wide enough to reveal arrangements of flowers that matched my own, balancing upon the edge of the pews, as well as the expectant faces of guests.
I paused in the doorway as I took them all in. From the pack on one side of the church, each of them seeming somewhat uncomfortable in attire more formal than they were accustomed to, I swung my gaze to the left, spotting the infamous Brenton and who I presumed to be his brother, Lottie Taunton, who I needed to thank for my dress, and Josie Cole—Mother’s crystal and herb supplier for as many years as I could remember.
In the front row, Mother smiled, the slight nod of her head reminding me to walk, and as I put one foot in front of the other, I sought my true reason for being there.
Sean.
Creasing across his brow exposed a frown, which diminished the moment I moved forward. “You are beautiful,” he said in our shared whisper.
I smiled and allowed my attention to leave his face, absorbing his signature boots that he had probably argued with Mother to wear, customary black trousers tucked in to them. So used to seeing his white shirts hanging open, my eyebrow rose at the laces woven tight up to a necktie that matched the one Giles wore, but even more so at the black waistcoat, which somehow seemed to negate the casual air of his turned up sleeves. “And you are ... rather smart.”
He chuckled loud enough for the guests to hear, and as they all turned from me to look his way, he ducked his head a little, although not before I caught the lopsided smile on his lips.
