“Now ...” Mother smiled as she turned to Jessica and me. “Let us relax.”
By the time dinner had been consumed, I knew Jessica’s bedroom concealed secrets from me. She had called me back every time I had moved in that direction. Temptation urged me to defy them both and sneak away to discover what they kept hidden, until guilt insisted I play along and permit them the surprises they evidently had planned.
Mother gently rocked before the fire, a rare glass of port poised beneath her lips, whilst Jessica babbled on about the romance of it all, and how she found it difficult to believe two people would choose to be together for such a length of time again and again, totally oblivious to the disapproving eye rolls she earned from the woman beside her.
“Why did you not do this yourself, Mother?” I asked, cutting into Jessica’s rambling.
Mother’s gaze steadied on me. “Do what?”
“Perform the ritual for you and Father?”
Sitting up a little straighter, Jessica’s focus flittered between the two of us.
“You are assuming again, Jem.”
I watched her a moment as I absorbed her simple response and what it meant. “Father has been passed for fifteen years. Surely, if you had done so, you would have died from a broken heart already?”
She inclined her head. “Had it worked, yes.”
I shot forward. “Are you saying this whole idea has been nothing more than a ruse to confirm Sean’s commitment?”
“Of course not, Jem.” She frowned as she lowered her drink. “I shall try everything in my power to ensure your ritual is successful. Just as I had hoped my own would be.”
As I stared at her, my heart thrumming, Jessica cleared her throat.
“So ... why did your own not work, Mother? And ... what makes you believe this one will?”
“Because I was young and inexperienced when I attempted my own, and I lacked respect for my abilities by presuming them to be stronger than they were. I have since come to understand where I failed the first time. Besides,”—she smiled—“I also had neither the blessing of your father, nor the help of the blue moon. Trust in me, Jem. I have confidence in tomorrow’s eve.”
The more Mother had reassured me that all would go well, the more I had relaxed, and the flutters of nervousness had diminished beneath those of excitement that moved in to take their place. By bedtime, despite the wide yawns suggesting otherwise, I remained wide-awake, as well as impatient for the morrow to arrive.
The candle I had lit by the fire offered just enough glow for me to see by, as I padded into my bedroom.
‘Go to bed,’ Mother had told me, ‘and we shall wake you the moment your bath is prepared.’
I thought of the tin bath she kept at the end of the scullery, smiling at memories of sinking into it in front of the hearth. Living with only related females meant privacy had never been much of an issue to consider.
My old nightgowns still hid in my drawers. I rarely wore nightwear at home and chose a cream one in brushed cotton that swept over my body with a soothing softness, before I climbed beneath my quilt and snuggled into the pillow.
For minutes, I lay there, drawing in the lavender and clary sage Mother had no doubt replenished, as well as the melting wax at my bedside and the polished wood of my bed. Even once I had snuffed the flame, I remained awake, staring at the ceiling through the intricate lace, counting and recounting the beams from one side to the other. When I could put it off no longer, my thoughts drifted to what the morning would bring, and the instant they did, my mind filled with the scenario I hoped to act out in reality.
Me, being collected and escorted by Giles, along with Mother and Jessica. Sean, awaiting my arrival at the altar.
My ruminations stumbled at the idea of any villagers gathering at the church gates. Whilst inviting Brenton could be considered ingenious, as he would act as witness to the locals once we had wed, receiving his invitation already also meant he had knowledge he could share prior to the day.
Jessica had insisted she had taken measures to ensure he would not do so, however, and I repeated her words inside my head until my breathing resettled enough for my lids to weigh heavy and my weary mind to concede.
Chapter 19
Tapping. Irritating tapping infiltrated my dream and threatened to lure me from slumber. Unwilling to allow it victory, I tugged my pillow over my head and rolled into a ball.
The tapping continued with no pattern to the beat.
Tap.
Pause.
Tap.
A longer break.
Another tap.
With a groan, I pushed my pillow aside and rolled onto my back.
Tap.
I turned toward the window, from where the noise seemed to be coming, and frowned at yet another tap.
Sean? It had to be.
Mother would be far from happy, if he had disobeyed her order to stay away.
The next attack hit the glass like hailstones—a sound only a shower of pebbles could make—and I swung my feet to the rug lest he awaken the household.
Wood scraped across wood when I split my curtains and nudged them aside. The first hint of dawn spilled over the sill, as I pressed my face to the pane and peered outside.
No one stared back at me. Oftentimes, if Sean wished for obscurity, I would still spot a sign of his location, yet no bushes rustled in the backyard and no extended shadows distorted those of Father’s old work barn.
Under the presumption that he hid close enough to hear it, I rapped a knuckle against the glass, before remembering with horror that Sean should not see me that morn. Not before the church.
I stumbled backward and clambered for my bed, where I tore the casing from my pillow. With that draped across my head, I felt my way back to the window, unlatched the clasps, and slid it up on its runners.
Cool morning air seeped through the gap and continued through my nightgown, encircling my naked flesh beneath until I shivered against its intrusion. Ignoring the prickly sensation of flesh pimples, I urged the window higher and ducked my head through the opening.
“Sean?” My whisper merged with the breeze that held more strength outside and teased my covering enough to raise the corner. I used the moment of visibility to check for Sean, yet saw no sign of him still. “This is far from funny,” I hissed. “Mother will be furious if she discovers you loitering so near.”
“Your mother shall never even know I visited.”
My head jerked up. My nape smashed against the frame, and pain splintered into my skull.
Blinking away the flashing lights behind my lids, I shoved back from the window but barely withdrew my shoulders before an arm wrapped around them and fingers folded over my mouth.
My legs kicked out but contacted only air. I clawed at both limbs that held me secure. My raging scream travelled only as far as the blockage.
I could do little more than pound at one so much stronger than I, as the werewolf yanked me across the threshold of the opening. Tears formed as the wood scratched at my stomach. My thrashing legs bashed against the exit as he drew them free.
I flew upward. My back slammed against something solid, my teeth jarring. A heavy pressure enclosed my torso, pinning my arms with the strength of a steel girder, and within seconds, my body shook with jostled movement.
“Apologies for my methods.” A harsh raggedness roughened his already gravelly voice. “But as you are on the verge of making such an error in judgement, you left me with little other choice.”
The breeze ruffled my hair, as well as forced away the fabric covering my face. The moment it did, I spied the nearing border of Mother’s back garden, and my panic soared high enough to cause dizziness.
I let out a cry, only for it to be muffled by his smothering hand. Bucking merely resulted in the tightening of his hold. Even the flailing of my feet seemed to have no effect, despite landing blows against what must have been his racing legs.
Another cry. Same result.
I neede
d to shift his hand. Needed to free my mouth. If I could only shout loud enough, help would arrive.
The constriction against my arms refused to relent no matter how hard I gritted my teeth and pushed at it.
“Hold still, or you will hurt yourself.”
His barked order invoked further struggles, although I stopped the instant he thrust upward. My eyes widened at the ease with which he mounted the five-foot wall. I made a rapid scan of the land as he balanced on the pinnacle for a moment, but I scarcely had time to search before we plummeted.
My body jolted on landing. With no time for recovery, he raced off again.
A warm blush had begun its outward spread across the land but did not reach the grass beneath the trees he threaded us through, and the screams inside my head sounded obscene against the quietness of the hour.
Stretching my arms to unnatural angles, I scratched at his forearms. With my head twisting left and right, I attempted to bite the fingers restricting my pleas.
No matter how much I flailed or squirmed, he never once broke stride, never once lost his hold.
Even with the ability to see only what we headed toward, I knew Mother’s cottage grew farther and farther away, and it seemed as though my sanity might slip away with it.
For what seemed like hours, he pounded the earth. His hot breaths hit my ear, until sweat trickled along my neck. His powerful arm clutched tighter, chafing my skin with each jostle. Even his hand over my face had begun to slip with my escaping saliva, and as it coated my nose, my intakes became shorter and shallower.
Just as unconsciousness crept into the corners of my mind, his steps slowed.
The vice about my body loosened as his mouth pressed against my ear. “I shall remove my hand now, young female. Scream, and you shall be treated with less respect.”
Less respect than what? Had being hauled from my room with no more than nightwear as protection and mauled into submission not been disrespectful enough?
I gasped when he spun me around, groaned at my back thudding against the bark of a trunk, and attempted to blink away my surge of alarm as tingles bled into my extremities. My situation could be considered bad enough without the vulnerability an uncontrolled change would bring. Teeth gritted, I poured my concentration into blocking the sensation from bleeding higher into my limbs.
The werewolf’s face pushed into mine as his forearm folded across my chest, pinning me to the oak.
“You said you were leaving.” My words gasped from me.
“But I did not state when.”
“You were allowed to walk away. Why return?”
“Do you not understand, Jem? You are the only female. That alone makes you a prize. Whoever mates with you has the potential to procreate the first ever purebred son.”
I wanted to argue, to tell him to find his own female, although I would wish the transformation on no one. It had been explained to me years earlier, though, that had Sean not shown determination and dedication, I would not have survived, just like the less fortunate ones on the receiving end of a bite before me. Apparently, the seizures that claimed a bitten human had always convinced werewolves of a faulty result, which in turn led to an imminent death. Sean had refused to allow my demise, and instead had nursed me until my consciousness returned.
The outsider placed a finger to his lips and twisted away.
I clamped my eyes closed for a moment, as twitches tugged at the flesh of my shoulder, my hip. A spasm hauled my calf tight until my toes flexed in pain.
Parting my lips allowed a held breath to escape. “Sean,” I whispered. “Please be listening. Please be close enough. Please ge—”
My body spun so fast, greens and browns flashed by in a blur as my eyes flew open. The male’s arm crushing across my chest forced out a grunt, which he cut off with the slap of his hand over my mouth.
I let rip a scream that emerged as no more than a strangled garble. My hands beat back against his hips in a futile bid for freedom, though under no circumstance could my feet join in the tirade—not with the drawing up of my legs beneath the twinges of distortion.
The werewolf released a snarl that blasted the hair from my sweat-drenched cheek, stilling my efforts. As soon as his growl faded to a rolling grumble, he pounced forward, once more mobile.
Each impact of his feet against the earth sent pain stabbing through me. As though pierced by a thousand splinters, every nerve ending in my forearms squealed out their protest, as did those in my legs and either side of my spine.
After another hundred yards, or so, of teeth clashing travel, with sweat dribbling along my temples and stinging my eyes, he halted with such abruptness that he almost toppled onto his knees. With a forward lunge, his leg shot between mine, and we stumbled forward, leaving me sitting astride his thigh with nothing more than the fabric of his trousers as an inadequate barrier beneath my risen-up nightgown.
Although my breaths increased to rapid pants, it took less than a heartbeat to recognise the moistness of grass beneath my toes. Before he could right us again, I shoved my legs down, tears springing free at the inferno that blazed through my muscles, and threw myself backward.
Sparks ignited behind my eyes as my skull crashed into his face. I focused only on the fact that both his arms swung from me as though a spring had been released, and I jumped from his lap. My right sole hit the ground first, allowing compensation for the advancing deformity in my left leg. As I straightened, I turned back and was greeted by fury that could have competed with the clashing of tides.
The crystalline blue of his eyes managed to darken and chill to a frosty glare at the same time. A singular line of red oozed from his left nostril over his upper lip. As it teetered on the brink of entering his mouth, he twisted away and spat the invasion onto the ground.
With my jaw set in determination, I thrust forward and drove my elbow into the side of his head so hard I stumbled onto my rear, an instant throb pounding the joint.
His head snapped back around, and he bared his teeth, phlegm spilling from his mouth. He dove toward me, his outstretched fingers reaching for my ankle.
I yanked it away then drove my foot forward, straight for his already damaged nose. Three years spent with a pack of werewolves meant I knew only too well how to tussle—just so long as I did not get caught. I gave a smile of satisfaction at the quiet crack of victory, as well as his grunt as he toppled backward.
Somewhat braver for the momentary reprieve, I forced myself upright and aimed a solid kick to his torso before spinning away and making a dash toward the forest that lay on the distant side of the sward.
“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.
Shifters Gone Wild: A Shifter Romance Collection Page 129