Forever Midnight

by Kate Hill

  “Touch me.” Samuel nearly laughed. Such a thing was impossible. “You mean, rest a hand on me when all I want to do is tear things apart?”

  Longmeadow nodded, his eyes narrowed as he puffed on the pipe. “You see, Mr. Whittle, the demon is made of human hatred. Every time an act of violence is done, it creates sort of a spirit of its own. Those spirits attract one another, melt together, and travel all over the place, just looking for somewhere to land and bite. Once bitten, the victim is infected with violence. The demon couldn’t be happier because it once again has an outlet to the violence it was borne of. Around the time of all those battles, there was plenty of violence and hatred floating all over the colonies, plenty of spirits looking for a place to cause more trouble.”

  “How did you learn about these spirits?”

  “From my grandfather.”

  “How did he know?”

  “He was a student of what some call the dark arts. They can be dark or they can be light. What matters is how you use them.”

  “Some people believe such studies are evil.” This entire conversation unsettled Samuel. Everything about John Longmeadow, from his primitive home to his piercing eyes, spoke of powers outside the mortal world. Powers that resembled the man/wolf curse too closely.

  “Don’t I know it. How do you think my family ended up living in these woods? It was my grandfather who built this place around the end of the last century. I grew up here with him and my parents. Now I’m the only one of us left. Long ago in Salem, there were some witch trials you might have heard about?”

  “Yes.”

  “Nobody on trial really knew anything about the craft, but Grandfather was the real thing. He knew there were some folks getting ready to accuse him next. Late one night, he took his family and came here. Before he died, he taught my mother, father, and me everything he knew.”

  “Aren’t you afraid of letting people know?”

  “The reverend is the only one who even knows I’m here. One night about twenty years ago, he was visiting with a family who farms a few miles from here. He had a riding accident. When I found him he was half-dead. Ended up staying with me for the better part of a month. He’s never betrayed me yet. Just keeps trying to convert me. That’s why when he asked for my help with you, I knew it had to be the real thing.”

  “So all I need is for someone to touch me in my wolf form?”

  “Yes, but you touching them won’t work, so don’t try cornering some poor person and hoping you’ll earn release. The touch must be by someone who cares for you, and you must willingly allow it.”

  “I don’t think I could without killing them.” Samuel ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “This will never work. Thank you for your help, anyway.”

  Longmeadow nodded. Samuel felt the man’s gaze on him as he left the cabin and stepped back into the winter chill.

  It seemed he would be cursed forever—or until death.

  Chapter Seven

  Maggie sighed and stroked the horse’s neck. She pulled her hood more snugly around her and strained to see any sign of Samuel. He’d been gone for quite a long time, or so it seemed.

  “It’s starting to snow,” the reverend noted, edging his horse closer to Maggie’s. “We should wait for him back home.”

  “I’m not leaving without Samuel.”

  Before the reverend could protest, Samuel stepped into the clearing. In spite of his companions’ questions and curious glances, he swung silently onto the horse. Maggie felt odd stiffness in the way he held her and sensed whatever he and John Longmeadow had spoken of had upset him.

  “Well?” asked the reverend as they headed out of the woods. “What did he say?”

  “Nothing of use.”

  “Surely he had something to tell you?” Maggie glanced over her shoulder. She tried meeting Samuel’s gaze, but it remained fixed on the path ahead.

  “He said the only way to break the curse is for someone to touch me in wolf form.”

  “Touch you?” The reverend’s brow furrowed. “But, Samuel, there’s no getting near you when the demon takes you. Unless there’s some way to render you unconscious and—”

  “It won’t work. According to Longmeadow, it must be a caring touch that I willingly allow.”

  The reverend shook his head and murmured, “Pity. What a pity.”

  Maggie remained silent, her pulse racing. Gently she rested her gloved hand atop one of Samuel’s which held the reins in front of her. Touch him in wolf form. That’s all it took. A single touch and he’d be free.

  By the time they reached home, snow was still falling lightly. The reverend had left them at the bend in the road and returned to town.

  “Something wrong, Maggie?” Samuel asked as they dismounted.

  “No. I’ll go fix supper.”

  She took a step toward the house, but he grasped her waist with one arm and tugged her close. “Look at me.”

  Gazing into his eyes she drew a deep breath and released it slowly. Samuel had kind eyes. Strong eyes. In spite of all they’d seen, there was no bitterness in them, only a flicker of sorrow. Warmth from his body flowed into hers, even through their layers of clothes. His breath fanned her lips and cheek.

  “Tell me what you’re thinking,” he said.

  She shook her head. “It’s silly really.”

  “What?”

  “I was wishing that Mr. Longmeadow might have an instant cure, that you’d walk into the woods a half-wolf and return a whole man.”

  He smiled. “That’s not so silly. I was hoping for the same thing.”

  Sliding her arms around his neck, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him before walking to the house while he tended the horse.

  By the time he returned, the snow was falling more heavily outside, but the kitchen was warmed by the stove and the parlor heated by the fire.

  Samuel stepped into the house, stomping snow from his feet.

  “I’ll take your cloak.” Maggie reached for the heavy, wet wool garment as he shrugged it off. Ice crystals sprinkled his hair and eyebrows. The sharp ridges of his cheekbones were tinged red from the cold and when he grasped her arms and tugged her close for a kiss, his lips felt cool. They warmed beneath the gentle stroking of her tongue.

  Maggie’s eyes slipped shut. Had it not been for the wet cloak pressed between them, she might have forgotten about supper and chores and accompanied him directly to the bedroom.

  As he released her, he stroked her face with his fingertips and gazed at her with such intensity that her stomach clenched and moist heat seeped from her pussy. Her nipples tightened and her pulse throbbed. How she wanted to feel him between her legs, so strong and hard like an untamed stallion. She could almost feel his lips and tongue teasing her nipples, licking, circling, tugging, rubbing.

  “Warm yourself by the fire,” she said. “There’s still some time before supper.”

  Maggie hung his cloak on the hook by the stove. As she turned back to the parlor, she crashed into Samuel’s bare chest. Gasping, her heart raced with surprise and stirrings of desire. The sight of his broad, well-muscled chest covered with curling hair made her mouth go dry.

  “Sorry, Maggie. Didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  “Just surprised, that’s…all.” Her voice faded as he stepped back, offering her a view of his nude body. His lean waist, strong hips, powerful legs, and best of all, his heavy balls and thick, semi-erect cock that seemed to grow before her eyes had her clit throbbing without so much as a touch.

  “You said we have time before supper.” His lips slid into an arousing smile as he gently grasped her arms and tugged her close. “I thought of a few ways we might spend it.”

  She drew a deep breath and unfastened her apron. He took it from her hand and tossed it aside, then removed her dress. The fabric pooled at her feet and she stood before him in her shift, her nipples poking against the thin material. He bent and captured one nipple between his lips. Using his teeth and tongue, he teased it through the shift.
The material grew so wet that it almost felt as if the nipple was bare to his carnal motions. Desire shot through her, tingling and teasing.

  Maggie’s eyes slipped shut as she clutched his head closer, her breathing ragged. “Oh, Samuel. It feels so good, so—”

  He stood suddenly and hoisted her onto the square wooden table in the center of the room.

  “Not here.” Maggie was aghast. Yet in spite of her modesty which protested the improper position, arousal coursed through her. How good it would feel to sate their passion on the hard wooden table like a couple of animals unable to control themselves. “But—”

  His mouth covered hers, silencing her protests as he raised her shift and spread her legs. Long, gentle fingers slipped into her drenched pussy then circled her clit. His tongue thrust into her mouth in time with his stroking fingers. Faster, faster, faster. The climax built, burning Maggie from the inside out. Tightening, pulsing, stealing her sight and hearing, save the pounding of her heart.

  Just when she was on the verge of shattering, his fingers left her. Dragging her to the edge of the table, he entered her with a long, slow thrust. Inch upon inch of his steely rod filled her while his thumb rolled over her clit. The sensations were almost unbearable. This was too much pleasure. She couldn’t wait. By the time he reached the hilt, she burst in orgasm. Her pussy throbbed and squeezed his cock until he groaned.

  Yet, when her eyes opened and her senses returned, he was still buried deep inside her.

  Gazing into his eyes, Maggie took his face in her hands. “I can do it, you know.” When he narrowed his eyes in question, she continued, “I can touch you and break the curse.”

  “No.” He pulled back a bit, his cock sliding out partway. “It’s too dangerous.”

  She wrapped her legs around his waist and jerked him close, deep inside her once again. “It’s worth the risk.”

  “Not to me. How could I bear it if anything happened to you, if I hurt—or worse—killed you?” As gently as he could, he pulled away. Running a hand through his hair, he paced the room. His worry and confusion was almost a tangible thing. Maggie pulled down her shift and approached him. She rested a hand on his arm and he paused, his gaze meeting hers.

  “You say you can remember things when the demon takes you. You’re chained. If you can control it for even a short time, we have a chance.”

  His powerful chest expanded against her breasts as he drew a deep breath and shook his head.

  “Do you plan on staying like this for the rest of your life?”

  “No.” He murmured. “This will be the last time.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I’m asking Paul to use the bullet.”

  “No.” She sank her nails into his shoulders as panic gripped her. “I will not lose you, Samuel.”

  “Maggie, please. Don’t make this more difficult than it has to be. I have until the next full moon. I want to share those weeks with you, or as much of them as I can. I know the closer to the change the more difficult I become to live with.”

  “Why are you so willing to die but not take the chance to live?”

  “Because I won’t trade your life for mine.”

  “If you’re set on this, then why not let me try just once? If anything goes wrong, Paul will be there with the bullet, ready to—to kill you, if that’s how it must be.”

  He held her gaze and stroked her face. “I’ll think about it.”

  “I’m not going to let you go easily, Samuel.”

  “You’ll be taken care of. This house, my inheritance, it will be yours, Maggie.”

  “I don’t care about those things. I want you.”

  “And I want you safe. You’re the only person who has stood by me through every moment. You’ve never abandoned me, Maggie. Even through the worst times.”

  “That’s why I know I can help you, if you’ll let me.”

  “I don’t know what will happen when the wolf comes, if I’ll be able to control myself enough to let you touch me.”

  “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you,” she murmured. Even as the full moon neared, he became wilder and prone to uncharacteristic bouts of temper. “I also know how strong you are, Samuel. You’ve endured this for years. I know you can control yourself enough to let me touch you.”

  “You have more faith than I do.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his cheek against the top of her head.

  Maggie stroked up and down his back. She gripped his shoulders then slid her hands down his sides and grasped his buttocks. The hard, warm globes felt so good against her palms. His cock pushed against her, still so hard and ready.

  Pressing kisses over his chest and his flat, firm stomach, Maggie slid down his body and sank to her knees.

  “Maggie.” His voice was husky with longing.

  “Hmm,” she purred, clasping the velvet-skinned rod and guiding the smooth, ruddy head between her lips. Closing her eyes, she enjoyed his texture and scent as she rolled her tongue over and over the head. How marvelous he felt, so thick in her mouth and hard in her hands. Sucking on his cockhead while lashing it with her tongue, she moved one hand from shaft to balls. She squeezed and rolled the warm, hair-dusted sac.

  “Maggie, my love,” he rasped as her sucking quickened and her stroking hands increased their pressure and tempo. His entire body stiffened as he thrust his hips forward. She sensed he was keeping a tight harness on his passion or else he would have thrust her across the room. Unable to resist, she moved her hand from his balls to his buttocks. The muscles were rock-hard and so, so arousing. She stroked the backs of his flexing thighs, then his inner thighs. Samuel groaned, his breathing ragged.

  “Stop,” He gasped, his fingers tightening in her hair, but Maggie had no intention of stopping. She clung to him, her lips and tongue working on him while her hands squeezed, kneaded, and stroked. Her fingertips pressed the sensitive flesh between his balls and buttocks, then pushed against the sphincter itself.

  With a wild cry of rapture, Samuel’s entire body stiffened then pulsed as he came. At the last moment, his cock popped free of her mouth and splattered both of them with a seemingly endless stream of cum.

  “Maggie, oh, God,” he gasped, dragging her to her feet and into his arms.

  Resting her cheek against his chest, she listened to the slowing rhythm of his heart.

  Come the next full moon, my love. Maggie languidly stroked his back. Come the next full moon…

  Chapter Eight

  Tapping sounded on the kitchen door. Maggie finished drying a china dish and placed it in the cupboard. Tossing her cloth aside, she opened the door and found herself staring into Clay Stratford’s leering face. Her gut twisted with disgust. Clay was the only son of Edgar Stratford, the same man who, just a week ago, had led the group of townsfolk to Whittle House, bent on killing Samuel. The Stratfords owned the store in town from which Samuel bought food and other supplies to keep the house running smoothly. He paid a ridiculous price for the goods to be delivered, since the citizens dispersed every time he walked into town. For a while, Maggie had gone to town instead, but the people’s whispered remarks about her soon turned to outright ridicule. She never told Samuel what happened. Only when she returned one afternoon with a cut and bruised face where some hidden coward had struck her with a rock did he realize that his curse extended to her as well. Rumor was only an evil woman could stay under the same roof as the man-wolf.

  Most everyone in town hated Samuel. Only good, old-fashioned greed prompted the Stratfords to continue selling to Whittle House.

  “Got your supplies out there on the wagon.” Clay leaned a shoulder against the door, his cracked lips parting as he ran his tongue over them. “Want me to bring ‘em in?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “Gonna pay me extra for the service?”

  “I believe you get paid enough, sir.”

  “It’s cold out here, Maggie.” Clay reached out and grasped a lock of her dark hair between his dirt-encrusted
thumb and forefinger. “Thought you might ask me in to warm myself by the fire, then maybe you and I could—”

  “You thought wrong.” Maggie knocked his hand away and shoved him. Rage boiled inside her at the man’s audacity. She was tired of women, especially black women, being treated with such disrespect, especially from contemptible bastards like Clay.

  “Calm down, sweetheart. I thought your kind of woman was used to spreading your legs and breedin’ on command.”

  The door opened and Samuel stepped inside. His gaze fixed on Clay like a hawk’s ready to swoop in for the kill. The younger man took a step backwards and cleared his throat. “Mr. Whittle. Got your supplies.”

  “Then why are you standing here? Get them.” Samuel’s voice was just short of a growl.

  Clay nodded and walked away.

  “Did he give you a problem?” Samuel approached Maggie and rested a hand on the small of her back.

  Gazing up at him, she felt mildly unsettled. She recognized his expression. The wolf was on its way. Awakening, yawning, preparing for the kill soon to come. His eyes looked sharper than normal, their expression just a bit harder than the Samuel she loved. Stubble dusted his jaw and his teeth gleamed white against his lips. Part of her wanted to tell him about Clay’s harassment, but another part of her, the one that knew what the wolf was capable of, stopped her.

  “There was no problem.” She smiled slightly and returned to drying the dishes. Samuel stepped outside.

  Through the window over the sink, Maggie saw him join Clay in unloading crates and barrels of supplies. Together the men carried them to the pantry.

  When they’d finished, they stood in the kitchen where Clay collected his fee from Samuel.

  “Same time and same supplies next month?” Clay asked before he left.

  “Yes, except for one thing. Do you have any bolts of forest green silk?”

  “Forest green silk?” Clay narrowed his eyes. “Maybe. If we don’t, we can see about getting it.”

  “Do that.” Samuel passed Clay extra bills to cover his additional order.