Trial by Moon

by Lizzy Ford

  He doesn’t respond, though the message is marked as read a second or two after I send it.

  “I fucking hate werewolves!” I shout to no one in particular.

  The best night of my life is followed by the worst morning. I’m not just angry – I’m hurt, and it’s this feeling that leaves me far more confused than anything else.

  Chapter Eight

  I don’t go straight into work and I don’t text Ben to tell him I’ll be in late.

  Sitting in the study at my father’s row house, breathing in the scents of my father and Ben, I’m in a deep funk. The insane night with him buffers me from the outside world in the way only Ben can. My Book of Secrets has another twenty pages visible today, but they’re boring. It’s the rules my father repeated to me my entire life. There’s nothing new or enlightening or even useful in them. To make matters worse, they seem to have been written in a completely different era.

  Rule 22. The wisest leader will be respectable in all his doings.

  What does that even mean? Almost every rule is this vague. I never gave them much thought when I heard them from my father. Now that I’m in charge of deciphering how I apply them to selecting a new leader, I’m pissed it’s so convoluted. When this is over, I’m going to write an abridged version of what’s supposed to happen. I have a feeling it’ll be all of fifteen pages instead of five hundred.

  Closing the Book of Secrets, I pick up the tome my father wrote detailing Ben’s life. His rise to power and influence among the clans, inheritance of a great deal of family money, and ability to grow a start up into a conglomeration are impressive. According to what my father wrote, werewolves are looked down upon by the other clans, because they’re considered lesser for being animals.

  Ben’s completely changed the view the other clans have of werewolves within a century, a short span of time for clans whose members live hundreds if not thousands of years. Jenny’s claim to be proud of him makes more sense in this light.

  There’s nothing lesser about Ben, and I know one of the reasons why I’m in a funk this morning. He’s hurting. I don’t need to be near him, or to confirm he’s ignoring my texts, to know this. His vague response about whether or not he loves Jenny Lake Porn Star leads me to believe he doesn’t. However, someone like him cares and feels on a level I don’t think I’m capable of. He fucks me like it’s our first and last night together, every time we make love, and his otherworldly intensity sweeps me off my feet with a look.

  A man whose number one pet peeve is betrayal isn’t going to take the deception of his closest friend and lover well, not going to forgive her or probably himself for being duped.

  I keep telling myself Ben’s personal life, and the fact he owns the largest construction company in the country yet doesn’t know someone in his company is running drugs, aren’t really my business. In a way, I guess his obliviousness does go on the list of cons I’ve been building this morning. His pros are pretty strong, but this con is pretty damning. If he can’t manage his own house, how can he manage the Community?

  It bothers me to know he’s upset. I’m not really good at connecting with others and don’t know how to handle this feeling.

  So I read. Every time I open the Book of Secrets, I hear the damn were-bitch inside me whisper. I’ve been avoiding a key part of this whole experience so far. This isn’t just about picking the next leader of the clans; it’s a mating ritual. I’m required to go through it, to choose my husband from the three clan leaders selected secretly by my father.

  I can’t wrap my twenty first century brain around such an archaic ritual. I also recall how peaceful it can be with Ben, how my guards come done whether or not I want them to, and how oddly perfect intimacy with him feels.

  As always, since we first met, I’m constantly confused by Ben and the changes I’m going through. It’s getting harder for me to identify what’s me and what’s the wolf I assume will disappear at the end of this week. Ben’s claim that the wolf is actually me, just the primal side, isn’t one I really welcome. I kind of feel possessed sometimes.

  The King of Sudden Exits is moodier than I am, and I don’t like being the one left standing alone wondering what the fuck just happened when he walks out.

  My phone pings, and I pick it up instinctively.

  I need you.

  I’m on my feet before I fully register Ben’s message, and my heart is racing. Heat floods me.

  “Down, bitch!” I mutter, furious at myself for reacting so strongly after he ditched me and then ignored me all morning. I’m tempted to tell him to fuck off, but as I’m mentally crafting the text, I’m also gathering my things and heading for the front door.

  This isn’t completely the wolf side of me. She can control me when we’re in the moonlight, but right now, this is mainly me.

  I stop at the front door and grit my teeth. My body is humming with anticipation and need, and I’m ready to run across town to his building, if the driver isn’t still parked out front.

  “It’s magic,” I remind myself. In a week, this feeling will be gone.

  Right now, it’s going to drive me insane if I don’t answer Ben’s call. I leave my father’s row house and trot down the stairs to the driver who’s waiting in the large, black sedan.

  Half an hour later, he drops me off at the corporate headquarters. Even with Ben’s magic and scent to protect me, I’m antsy in the real world, unable to dwell on one thought before my mind flutters away to something else. I jump out of my skin any time there’s a loud noise and whiffs of strong smells make me ill.

  Hurrying into the building, I check my phone to see if he’s texted again.

  Busy now. Do interviews.

  “You son of a bitch.” Didn’t this asshole once lecture me about common courtesy?

  I go to the fifth floor and slam open the door to the interview room, toss my backpack and notebook and then leave for the break room. Caffeine is the last thing I need right now with my senses already stimulated close to the point of bursting, but I down a soda and grab some community chocolate out of the cabinet. Vaguely, I wonder if it’s okay to eat chocolate as a werewolf, since it’ll kill dogs, then decide I really don’t care. I don’t have pills and even if I did …

  I’d rather Ben fuck me than take pills.

  “I hate you right now,” I tell my were-bitch.

  Returning to the conference room, I’m not expecting to see someone there and pause in the doorway. The man has Ben’s looks and build but is smaller. And no one is as intense as Ben. This guy is smiling.

  Werewolves are a happy lot. I had no idea before interviewing them.

  “Leslie?” he asks.

  “Yeah.” I’m in no mood for anything and toss my candy on the table then take my seat.

  “I’m Ben’s youngest brother, Jason.”

  “Number five,” I say automatically. Ben has four brothers and a sister, according to my father’s records. Most are located around the country to manage the company’s interests and operations.

  “Yeah,” he says and sits across from me. His eyes are hazel as opposed to golden like his brother’s.

  “I’m not even going to interview you,” I say with a sigh.

  He chuckles. “I actually came to ask you something.”

  “Go ahead.” I peel back the wrapper of a Snickers and take a huge bite. Since becoming a werewolf, I’m hungry all the time.

  “May I ask who tipped you off about the drugs?”

  I chew slowly, pensive. It’s not like me to want to avoid answering something that doesn’t really pertain to me. I shouldn’t care. In a few days, I’ll move on, and they’ll have to clean up their own mess. For reasons I can’t quite control or understand, though, I’m feeling protective of Ben. It makes no sense since his brother is asking.

  “I don’t know his name,” I reply. “Number Fourteen. I had a horrible headache yesterday. That’s all I remember.”

  Jason pulls out an electronic tablet from his briefcase and unlocks it. H
e scrolls through a document then flips to pictures. “Ben had a list of who spoke to you,” he says. “Was this him?”

  He presents the image to me of the guy who told me about the drugs.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Why?”

  “We’re identifying the drug runners as quietly and quickly as possible,” he replies.

  “For what purpose?”

  “Their punishment is for Ben to decide.”

  A chill shoots down my back. “This guy … Leon …” I read his name as I lean forward. “He didn’t know Ben didn’t know.”

  “We’re feeling out who was complicit and who was manipulated or deceived into acting counter to our interests,” Jason assures me.

  “Let me guess. Ben decides who’s guilty and not.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re okay with that?”

  “Of course. He’s our alpha.”

  “What if he makes a mistake?” I press.

  “He won’t.”

  “But it’s possible.”

  “Possible, perhaps. Likely, never,” Jason says with a smile. “If he were human, I’d worry about human bias getting in the way. But our wolves don’t make those kinds of mistakes.”

  “You all just kill the bad guys.”

  “You’re oversimplifying it,” he replies. “Ben kills as a last resort and usually after consulting with his siblings. He doesn’t make these decisions completely alone, but he does enforce our rules alone.”

  “But if he’s wrong, it’s not like Leon can file an appeal,” I point out.

  “Ben is never wrong about people.” Jason is calm, assured and confident. He doesn’t flinch or blink during our discussion.

  He believes every word he’s saying. Considering he’s known Ben the longest, his conviction is contagious. I’m kind of surprised to find I believe him.

  “Ben would never do anything to screw this up,” Jason adds quietly. “He’s the first werewolf in written history to be a candidate and the first in our oral tradition spanning thousands of years. No werewolf has ever made it this far.”

  I make a mental note to check the Book of Secrets and my father’s account of Ben’s life to see if this is true. I’ll also double-check my own lineage to see if any werewolf has ever bred into the family. My father was too meticulous not to have these kinds of records somewhere in the study.

  “Did Jenny have anything to say on the matter?” This question is cautious, as if Jason is aware of the effect condemning her will have.

  “She all but admitted to heading it,” I reply. “Then threatened to kill me if I told Ben.” I finish my candy bar and lean back to toss the wrapper.

  Jason is frowning, his intent gaze on me.

  I hurry to swallow, not liking the look. “What?”

  “I’ve never met a Kingmaker,” he says. “I’m wondering if they’re all like you.”

  It’s a tough question to answer. I’m nothing like my father, though he raised me to believe certain ideas about supernaturals being inferior. Unable to figure out what Jason wants to know, I shrug. “Why does it matter?”

  “It didn’t occur to you to tell Ben you were threatened by one of his wolves? You’re from the weakest clan with lifespans that generally don’t exceed a hundred years.”

  “Weakest?” I laugh. “Yeah, my family members tend to be killed off by supernaturals, but we’re not weak.”

  He’s looking at me like I’m crazy. Never in all the years listening to my father did he ever mention us as being the weakest clan. If anything, we’re the most powerful, because we choose the leaders – and the other clans all agreed this is our role at one point.

  But Jason’s genuine confusion and doubt makes me wonder for the first time ever what the other clans think of the Kingmaker’s.

  This has gotten awkward fast, and I sense neither of us knows what to say. Clearing my throat, I return to his question. “No, it didn’t occur to me,” I clarify. “It’s really none of my business and I know there’s some heavy stuff between them. I didn’t want to make it worse.”

  “And you turning up dead would be an acceptable resolution?”

  “She’s not going to kill me,” I reply. “She’s not the first irate girlfriend to threaten me.”

  Jason appears to be trying to understand me, as if I’m speaking another language. Finally, he says what Ben does when he’s trying not to say something. “Interesting.”

  It gets awkward again. I open my notebook. “Okay. So any comment on how Ben not knowing about issues in his company might impact his ability to lead on a much larger scale?”

  “What? No. He’s an incredible leader and the best boss. If he led the Community, there’d be order and peace and rules,” Jason says. “The other clans have made fun of us for thousands of years. Ben will show them how stupid it is to underestimate a wolf.”

  “So what? He’s out for revenge?” I ask.

  “No. But he won’t let them treat us like animals. Ever.”

  Jason’s vehemence is disturbing. Does Ben have an ulterior motive for wanting to become the Community leader? I keep this question to myself, sensing Jason is fully aboard the Ben wagon with everyone else in the company. I can see there being a very rough transition period, though, if Ben takes over. Then again, I haven’t spent time with the fae leader or vampire leader, either. For all I know, the drug runner and bloodsucker are worse.

  But I’m troubled by Jason’s resolution about Ben making sure the other clans know better than to cross a wolf, especially after reading my father’s warning about the candidate who will be out to serve the interests of his clan instead of the Community. Thousands of years of repression would give Ben great incentive to use the position for the purpose of vengeance.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt.” The pretty brunette at the door is gazing at Jason, not me.

  “You’re not,” he says with a quick smile and stands. “I’ll get out of your hair, Leslie.”

  I’m even less certain about how to view Ben after dealing with his brother. My next interviewee sits down.

  I don’t write down anything for a couple of hours then take a break to visit the janitor’s closet. Ben’s effect is wearing off and the world is starting to cause headaches again.

  I start to relax in the dark, quiet room and release a deep breath. Seconds later, the door opens. It’s not just Ben’s scent I notice; it’s more. Before he speaks, I already know how dangerous his mood is.

  The lock on the door slides into place.

  “Leslie.”

  His tone is as rough as his hands as he wraps an arm around me and pulls me into his body. The dark threat in his low growl solidifies a hunch I’ve had since we met. Benjamin isn’t a man who transforms into a wolf. He’s a wild animal in a business suit.

  His thick cock is pressed to my ass, his grip around me almost too tight. My were-bitch is oddly quiet, and for a split second, I’m trapped between berating him for being a total dick today and recognizing the danger in provoking the mass of coiled muscles and barely checked emotion pressed to my back.

  He’s waiting. Rather, the wolf is waiting. It scares me to acknowledge the darkness of his mood, the animal he’s kept restrained and separated from me until now. I no longer wonder what he was hiding, why he kept his distance. I had no idea, though, that his pain took on this form.

  It’s instinct that warns me of my danger and also how to survive. Instead of confronting him, I tilt my head to the side to expose my neck in an ancient sign of submission.

  “Be nice,” I whisper a little shakily.

  His lips press to my neck, and he breathes in my scent, sniffing my skin. “I thought you didn’t like it when I’m nice to you.”

  “Usually. But you’re kinda scaring me.”

  “I won’t hurt you,” he says. “I swear it, Leslie.”

  I’m not so sure. Aroused yet scared, I relax in his arms, already aware I’m at his mercy.

  When the storm breaks, it’s unlike anything I ever imagined, an
ything we’ve done. Ben’s emotion runs deeper than the ocean, and I’m soon clinging to him, a man with a wild animal’s carnal hunger and an experienced lover’s hands. The effect is devastating. Any hope I have of not being rendered a trembling, whimpering, vulnerable mess, of never really being brought down to the same level as a supernatural, is soon smashed beneath his passion and intensity. He’s rough – but he upholds his promise not to hurt me.

  I’ve played the submissive part in bed before without blinking. With him, it’s not just role playing and it’s not just physical. He strips me raw emotionally, forcing down the guards I always have around me, and then devours me, consumes me with his passion until I’m lost to everything but primal instinct and a soul-deep connection to the werewolf who is my mate for a week.

  He shatters who I thought I was with brutal kisses, a dick that’s never satisfied, hands that command my every move, and whispered growls of appreciation for my complete submission. He shows me just how deep that possessive, protective streak runs, and it’s terrifying. To become his mate is to become his in every regard.

  Some time later, when the edge of his emotion is worn down and I come down from the incredible high involved in being fucked like he owns me, I wrap my arms around his head. He’s resting on top of me, the brunt of his weight on his hips resting between my parted thighs and his head between my breasts. He’s breathing hard and calmer, his hands gripping my torso.

  My body trembles and is slick with sweat. My inner thighs, abs and pussy have been sore since I first fucked him, but they’re shaking now and I feel rubbed raw from the inside.

  I want to say something but am not sure what, so I simply wrap my legs around him and hold him. His hair is soft beneath my fingers, his breath warm against one breast. His breathing is steady, and I can hear his heartbeat. The closet smells of our combined scent, of sex, and I want to eat the smell, it’s so good.

  As ridiculous as it sounds in my head, I hear myself thinking over and over I feel born anew. I never knew sex or intimacy could be this good or run so deep. It’s addictive. He’s addictive. My wolf is quiet and for once, completely satisfied.