Autumn Moon

by Jan Delima

  Avon’s residents found enjoyment gambling over irregular circumstances, and Cormack’s had certainly been that. Regrettably, she’d learned about the obnoxious wager involving him, or rather his pursuers; more specifically, which one of them would be the first to introduce him to the carnal functions of his new body.

  When Elen had left, a woman named Tesni had been a favorite to win. If only she could stop picturing them together, she might have the depth of character to rid herself of this mental torture. But jealousy was a selfish emotion, and like all things infectious, once it festered, it wanted to stay.

  A wilted leaf brushed her cheek on its way to the ground, prompting her to change her focus away from self-serving motives. After wiping her eyes, she let the wind dry whatever dampness remained. She must calm her emotions before causing more damage, and she included her relationship with Cormack in that assessment. He still cared, or else he wouldn’t be here now, and she found comfort in that.

  If only he didn’t look so damn self-assured, she might be able to find more. He formed an intimidating figure as he marched beside her with graceful strides. His sword swung from his side, the belted scabbard hanging low off his hip, with his eyes sharp and searching for potential threats.

  He’d left her as a gentle friend but returned to her as a warrior. And why did that make her stomach flutter as if a thousand butterflies danced to his song?

  A question for a later time, she decided for her own peace of mind. And after inhaling a deep breath for composure, she tactfully changed the subject. “Are you hungry?” It was still late morning, so she offered, “I can whip us up some coffee and muffins.”

  He sighed as if relief was a weighable substance and she’d just removed a boulder from his chest. “I would like that.”

  “Apple muffins?” she asked. “Or pumpkin?” The trail opened to her grain fields, and she hurried on, anxious to cook for someone other than herself again. Ms. Hafwen didn’t count because she was too particular toward sweets and only ate crumbs she deemed worthy.

  He thought about it for a moment. “The pumpkin ones with the white crunchy stuff on top.”

  “Pumpkin streusel?”

  “Streusel,” he said, testing the word on his tongue. “Make extra.”

  His smile was infectious. “I can do that.” As they made their way through rows of apple trees with low branches heavy with ripened fruit, she had a ridiculous urge to giggle. It seemed she had little control over her emotions around him; one moment she wanted to cry, and the next she acted as if she’d never been with a man.

  Which, of course, she had. But not one who held her heart so firmly in his grasp.

  “What’s so funny?” He kicked a fallen apple out of her path.

  “Nothing.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Truly, it’s nothing.” Only the fact that hearing him talk back would take some getting used to, but she didn’t think he would appreciate her humor on the subject, not so soon after their last bout. “I’ve never had to answer your questions before.” She snuck a peek at his profile. “Or received answers to mine. I like it.”

  A sheepish grin turned his lips. “I’m glad.”

  She stubbed her toe on a jutting rock because of that grin. His mouth was made for pleasure. Thankfully, she caught herself before falling on her face in more ways than one and made it to her cottage without any further embarrassments.

  Unlatching the wrought iron gate that led to her front portico, she announced, “We’re home.” The sentiment spilled out naturally because she’d said it countless times over the years. However, she’d never once heard him repeat it back as he did just then.

  “We’re home.” He inhaled a deep breath as if to savor its scent.

  The butterflies in her stomach began to dance again.

  Five

  The scent of spiced pumpkin and coffee filled the kitchen as Cormack watched Elen clean the mixing bowls and place them on the counter to dry. She had no way of knowing how many times he’d longed to sit at her table as a man, to share conversation and to use utensils as her equal. His throat thickened, and he looked out the window to get a grasp on his emotions. A winter wren sat perched on a cherry tree branch, its head cocked, watching him closely with a one-eyed glare through the glass pane. It issued a sharp cry when Elen placed two coffee mugs on the knotted-pine surface between them.

  “I need to run outside to the garden,” she informed him.

  “How long will you be?” It was common for her to gather fresh herbs while she cooked, but it was also harvest time and she might be longer.

  “Only a second.” She slipped on her garden clogs by the back door, sending him a smile that felt like a punch to the gut. “I’ll be right back. I promise.”

  It was the smile that had given him the strength to live his cursed existence, and to wake each morning knowing she would give him another, and then another. If he spoke, it would reveal more than she was ready to know, so he only nodded as she left.

  And he’d thought arguing with Elen was difficult? When a smile had turned his tongue into a bloody knot?

  While she was gone, he took note of the changes in the cottage. His chair was missing, for one; she’d had a captain’s chair custom made to fit his size as a wolf. And plants no longer grew inside but had been contained to her garden. She was learning to control her gift, as Dylan had mentioned earlier. A new couch filled the gathering room, large and overstuffed and inviting comfort. A stack of garden books rested on top of a trunk that contained knitted blankets within. In the center of the cottage, a stone hearth provided heat on cold winter nights.

  Yes, he thought, I am home.

  * * *

  As Chihuahuas were to the canine family, Ms. Hafwen was to pixies, and her voice chirped in a similar crescendo when annoyed. She called from the shade garden, her usual spot for lectures because of its privacy. A miniature stone cottage rested below a hedge of hydrangeas, framed by blooms that had darkened to a dusk-colored rose. As Elen approached, the pixie flew to the top of the single turret, which brought her almost chest level.

  Hands on hips, the pixie clipped, “This is not the time for you to be courting your Cormack.”

  “He’s not my Cormack,” Elen defended. “And I’m not courting him.”

  “Bring a man to your hearth and then feed him”—she made an impatient motion with her wings, not one to tolerate deception, especially if the giver wasn’t aware—“that is courting.”

  “My brother assigned him as my personal guard. It was either that or move into Rhuddin Hall.”

  “Wolves,” she muttered, but her annoyance dissolved with the explanation. “Too domineering to see their arses under their tails. It is both annoying and endearing. Well, there are worse challenges. We will just have to work with your Cormack. I have a lesson prepared, and it’s important for you to master this one before the sun sets.”

  “I understand.” Bitterness settled in Elen’s stomach because what she really wanted to do was spend the day with him. Okay, perhaps she wanted to court him, but circumstances posed limitations that she couldn’t ignore. “I’ll meet you in the orchard barn in fifteen minutes.”

  The timer chimed just as Elen returned. Grabbing a pot holder, she pulled the tin from the oven. The muffins had risen perfectly. Cormack stood by the kitchen window, crowding the cozy space with his size. His nearness made her skin feel tight and jittery at the same time.

  “This is new.” He lifted a mason jar filled with pebbles she kept on the sill, and held it up to the light.

  “They’re from Melissa.” She wanted to wrap her arms around his waist, knowing what he lost in the same battle that freed his human half, but his stiffened stance didn’t welcome pity, or consolation. Plus the intimacy of such a gesture seemed awkward in their new relationship. “She began giving them to me after . . .” After Elen had healed her, but Corma
ck needn’t be reminded of what his niece had suffered that night. “I made a big deal out of the first one,” she explained instead. “Now every time Melissa sees me in town, she finds a way to bring me another.”

  Cormack had lost two sisters in that battle and almost lost his niece as well. Only four years old at the time, Melissa had been beaten to near death by a Guardian to obtain information from her mother. Taran, Cormack’s sister, had died protecting her child.

  The Guardian was now dead, thanks to Sophie.

  Darkness and light in their most brutal balance.

  “And you keep them?” His voice was soft but strained as he gently placed the jar back on the sill.

  “Of course.” Her earlier thoughts on the subject flowed without hesitation. “Rocks given with a pure heart are far more precious than any jewel given with ill intent.”

  His lips turned slightly. “To you, perhaps.” There was no insult in his remark but rather something more possessive. “Thank you for saving her. I doubt my brother-in-law ever told you that.”

  No, he hadn’t. Like all the villagers, Melissa’s father kept his distance from her. Regardless, gratitude wasn’t necessary when she used her gift for the purpose for which it was given.

  Suddenly off balance, Elen busied herself placing muffins on a serving tray and pouring two fresh cups of coffee. A change of subject was in order, she decided, before she babbled something too personal. “Can you carry the mugs back over?”

  The hint of his former smile turned into a full grin. “I can.” Two simple words that held such impact, because now he could do many things he couldn’t before.

  And Elen was trying very hard not to think of those other possibilities.

  Spiced steam rose as she set the tray on the table. Knives, napkins and a tub of fresh butter followed.

  Pulling out a chair, Elen sat, scooped a good chunk of butter out of the crock, and began to spread it on a split muffin.

  Cormack immediately removed it from her hands. “Let me do that.”

  His incapacities as a wolf had been a source of distress for him, she understood then more than ever, so she handed him her muffin to finish as well. “Mine too, please.”

  His gaze lifted to hers; there was gratitude there, and something else, a glint she’d never seen in his eyes as a wolf. Yes, she was trying really hard not to think of other possibilities—and she was failing miserably. He spread an even amount and handed it back to her. She ate one to his three. He was going for a fourth when he informed her, “Sarah’s dropping my gear by in the next hour, so don’t be alarmed if you see her truck pull up.”

  It wasn’t normal for her to receive company. “Thanks for letting me know.” Since she’d ripped a Guardian of his power, even the shifters had become skittish around her. They were partial to their wolves.

  Unfortunately, it only reminded her of why their fears were justified. “Did I hurt you that night?” Avoiding personal subjects proved impossible. Even if it made him uncomfortable, their history was too intense to pretend they were strangers restricted to politeness. He stiffened. That night needed no clarification between them. “I already told you I have no regrets.”

  Which was his way of not affirming her suspicion. “And the Guardian?” She gripped her mug for courage, afraid of his answer but needing to know. “Did any part of his personality influence you?”

  “No.” He reached out and pulled her hands from the mug to hold them within his. It was the first time she’d ever touched his skin. Did he not know how intimate that gesture was? Or how it affected her? When everyone feared her touch? “I’m a stubborn bastard. No man’s power can dominate mine.”

  She rolled her eyes at the arrogant statement, not unlike many her brothers had issued over the years. Cormack’s scent had changed after she’d given him a Guardian’s ability to shift, which had fueled her concern, but it still held his signature, a meld of forest and night.

  “Look at me, Elen.” He waited until she did. “Don’t waste your worries on me, when I know what it cost you.”

  She threaded her fingers through his, taking note of the calluses from his training. His fingers were long and well formed, and they relaxed to let her explore. The Guardian’s was the only life she’d ever taken with her gift. Worse, she didn’t know what frightened her more: That she felt no guilt? Or that she would do it again to have Cormack sitting here with her like this?

  The sound of Sarah’s truck broke the moment. He squeezed her hands gently before pulling away to open the door, accepting a black duffel bag from the female guard. Sarah offered Elen a respectful wave as she filled Cormack in on defenses for the coming evening.

  Once Sarah left, he walked down the hall that led to the second floor, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. A flush crawled up his neck. “I’ll just put my bag in the spare bedroom.”

  She swallowed, understanding his hesitation. He’d always slept with her. Platonically, of course, but for obvious reasons, that dynamic had changed like boiling water over ice, and it shattered her quiet world with booming cracks.

  “That’s fine,” she managed to reply in a somewhat neutral tone. “You know where everything is.” To ease the tension, she stood, placing her empty mug in the sink. “I have chores to do in the garden and barn. I’ll be outside while you settle in.”

  “Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”

  “That isn’t necessary.”

  “It is,” he pressed, not backing down this time.

  Well, Ms. Hafwen would just have to deal, because Elen wasn’t good at lying, especially to the people who knew her, and there was no one who knew her better than Cormack. “Suit yourself. I’m going to the barn first. I haven’t fed the animals yet, and there’s something there I need to get.”

  Once he returned, they walked through the orchard in comfortable silence. Not quite noon, the sun had yet to begin its downward climb, and her garden danced with life. A honeysuckle ran along the outer fence and hummingbirds flitted about consuming nectar for their flight south.

  “You painted the barn.” Cormack craned his neck to inspect the change.

  “My nephew did.” Joshua had helped her with several chores over the summer. She suspected Sophie, her sister by marriage, had something to do with that. Elen accepted the help because she enjoyed his company. That, and family was too precious to refuse.

  Her barn was now blue to match her cottage shutters and garden arbors; it housed four laying hens and a milking cow named Pumpkin. Turning the latch, she swung the door wide and inhaled the scent of fresh hay strewn the day before after a thorough mucking out of the stalls. The girls eyed her with greedy expectation, waiting for their midday treat. “No corn muffins today, ladies. Sorry.” But she did take a moment to replace their water and feed, since her morning routine had been foiled by a letter.

  “What of your clinic?” Cormack asked. “Do you not spend your days there any longer?”

  A bitter laugh fell from her mouth. “When I’m there, no one comes, so I’ve stopped wasting my days waiting.” It was the non-shifters who needed her assistance, and they’d always been skittish around her. And now with the proof of her power walking about in all his sinful grinning glory, they all but ran from her. Some still came as a last resort, but usually in the dark hours of the night, and almost always for concoctions unrelated to their health. “There’s a call button by the door. Porter programmed it to send an alert here if I’m needed.” She patted the small bulge of a cell phone clipped to the waistline of her skirt. An alarm also rang within the cottage. “For a while I thought to open the clinic to humans, but . . .”

  “That’s too much of a risk,” Cormack finished for her.

  “Yes.” For all appearances, Rhuddin Village was like any other town, but certain amenities demanded too much contact with the outside world, so they kept the clinic disguised underground. Humans, usually hikers gone as
tray, were sent to a hospital on the other side of their mountain region.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Having sat through many of her frustrated rants over the years, Cormack understood her. It was upsetting to have a skill and the means and not be able to use it. But she’d buried those demons when she’d accepted Ms. Hafwen’s help. Happy with her choice, she no longer craved the company of people who shunned her and was ready to begin a new chapter in her life.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she said. Her brother had the clinic built in the event of a war among their kind. “When it sits empty, I know that no one’s suffering and that the war has yet to come.”

  “For now.”

  Six

  “Yes, for now.” Elen shared his gruesome opinion. The likelihood of another conflict had been the second reason for this visit to her barn. The garment box she came to retrieve sat on a shelf in an abandoned stall, trimmed in gold embossment. She snagged it off the shelf and returned to where Cormack waited. With the sun at his back, he filled the doorway as a shadowed figure silhouetted by light. And as she drew closer his expression became more discernible—and clearly displeased.

  “It’s the dress Pendaran sent me,” she admitted before he asked.

  He glared at the box as if it held snakes within, or the destruction of the world. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of wearing it.”

  She couldn’t, because she was. “He’s powerful, Cormack. I want to prepare for any outcome. If he finds a way through our defenses, I’d rather not challenge him on something as pointless as wearing a dress.” No, she reserved her energy for more important battles. “It’s not woven with poison or enchanted with curses.” She’d checked for the former and Ms. Hafwen the latter.

  “Why would he need to,” he growled, “when the message you’ll send by wearing it is vile enough.”