“I—”
“As it was, Josh barely contained himself.”
I remained quiet about Sean’s lack of control.
“Watching Josh, with his hands all over you, when I . . .” Ethan paused, his chest rising with each inhalation. “Josh was lucky I didn’t tear him apart.” His face lifted to the ceiling, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “And all because of some bloody perfume.”
I watched his frustration in every move he made.
He turned back to me. “Why, Jem?” His palms lifted. “Why would you put yourself at risk like that?”
“Please, Ethan. Sit down, and I’ll explain everything …from the beginning.”
He stared hard at me before lowering to the sofa. His elbows rested on his knees, mirroring Nathan’s position, and I took a few minutes to explain about the brick dust.
“So, when I came in and saw you all had your bloody noses and wistful eyes pointed at them, I knew they’d tried to keep me out for a reason.” I faced Nathan. “You foiled their plans by insisting they extend the invitation to me. I don’t think they ever intended me to be there.” My attention returned to Ethan. “I only used the perfume to get you all to focus on me. It probably would have been okay if I hadn’t overindulged. But that’s beside the point now. It worked. That’s all I wanted—for you lot to come home. Even Josh followed like a lost puppy . . .” I trailed off.
Ethan and Nathan stared at me.
I got to my feet and paced the carpet beneath the window. “Nate, if someone called you a dog, would it concern you at all?”
“It depends how it was said.” He frowned. “Why?”
I halted, looked around at the three men. “Because Marianne called me a dog.”
Nathan’s eyebrow arched.
“But it was more than that, it was the way she said it.”
“How?” Nathan asked.
My hands slid into my jeans pockets. “Nastily enough that I grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall.”
Sean chuckled. “You pinned her for insulting you?”
“It was more than an insult.” At their blank expressions, I said, “Okay. Suppose I tell you the way she said it made me concerned she knows what we are?”
All three men shuffled forward in their seats.
“Why would you think that?” Nathan asked.
“Because she said it when you called me in, and her words were, ‘run along, dog, your master’s calling.’ And then, she said something about me huffing and puffing.”
The men’s expressions reflected confusion over concern.
I lifted my hands. “Fairy tales? Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?”
Nathan’s eyes sharpened. “Do they realise who you are?”
“How can they? Our names aren’t in the witch records, just the circumstances. If they’ve pegged me as more than Sean’s girlfriend, they probably just think I’m a female werewolf—no more, no less.”
“Did Jess find anything out about them yet?”
“Nothing concrete. She’s still looking.”
“Do you think you could ask her to look faster?” asked Nathan. “Because we have at least five witches who live only thirty minutes away, and when they’re not trying to bind or summon us, they want to seduce us for reasons I can’t even fathom. Add in the very strong possibility that they know what we are. We need to find out about them …and fast.”
“I’ll call her first thing.”
Ethan stood from his seat. “I’m going to bed.” He walked as far as the door. “I still can’t believe what you did today, Jem. I have spent the entire afternoon disgusted with myself because of what I felt like . . .” He shook his head and left the room.
• • •
After an hour of listening to Nathan and Sean ramble on about the witches—bouncing ideas back and forth, Nathan insisting we all should ensure Josh and Daniel were never left alone with Marianne and the clone—my mind still hadn’t erased the distraught expression Ethan had sent me on his way out the door.
Waiting until Sean headed off to the kitchen to make drinks, I excused myself and went upstairs.
At Ethan’s bedroom, I raised my hand to knock, but instead, tugged down the handle and pushed open the door. No artificial lighting coated his personal space, and the closed curtains prevented any offering from the moon. The mattress creaked beneath my weight as I sat on the end of his bed.
I studied his closed eyes and his dark outline, silhouetted against his white pillowcase, his arms tucked behind his head. “I know you’re awake,” I whispered.
“Go away, Jem.”
“Not until you hear me out.” I tugged on his jeans hem but it retracted as his knees drew up.
He rubbed at his face. “You have no idea what you did.”
“I saw.”
“So, you can see feelings now?”
When I didn’t answer, Ethan pushed up the bed until sitting against his headboard. As his eyes opened, he stared straight at me. “Shall I tell you how I felt? Help you understand?”
I waited.
He turned toward the window. “I felt like ripping your clothes off and …fucking mauling you, Jem. I don’t believe I would have given a shit if it was what you wanted or not.” His voice remained low, deep, full of pain. “If not for my self-control, my inner strength, that singular part of my rationality screaming that my urges were wrong”—he turned back to me—“you would not have stood a chance. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
“Yes,” I said through my stoppered throat.
“And because of it, because of you,” he continued, “I have felt nothing but contempt for myself. I believed it was me behaving that way. How could I feel like that toward my sister?” With a groan, he rubbed at his face as though he could erase his emotions. “That’s been going round and round inside my head all afternoon . . .”
“I’m sorry.”
His fisted hands pressed to his eyes. “I felt sick to my stomach.”
I shuffled farther onto the bed, went to reach out but thought better of it. “Please, give me a chance to explain.”
He lowered his hands.
“I know I shouldn’t have poured that bloody stuff all over me …now. But I only did it because I was afraid for my boys. My gut went cold with dread when Jess explained what she thought their intent was. I did what I had to do to get you all out of there. Please don’t ask me to apologise for that because I would do it again in a heartbeat. I’m sorry for the way it made you all feel—truly sorry—but if it wasn’t me, it would have been them. I liked the choice of me better. I didn’t like what I had to—”
“You looked to me like you were enjoying yourself, with Josh all snuggled into you,” he said.
“Ethan, if you were me, and you’d just done what I did, would you have given those witches the slightest inkling that the behaviour of your fellow pack members was terrifying the shit out of you?”
He leaned forward, dropping his hands to his lap. “We …we frightened you?”
“Yes,” I murmured. “Even Sean almost lost it with me in the bathroom.”
He nudged closer, eyes glistening in the dark.
“So, if you think I don’t understand how I affected you all today, you’re mistaken.”
“Are you okay?”
“He realised what he was doing and stopped. I wouldn’t have minded, except I was kind of enj—”
His hand pressed over my mouth. “Seriously, Jem—too much information.”
I smiled, nudging his arm down. “So, will you accept that I’m sorry?”
“Yes.”
I crawled across his covers. “Thanks,” I said as his arms folded around me.
• • •
The spoon clinked against the c
up in the corner of the cabin the next morning. I lifted my gaze to Connor, making his tea, and caught the flash of dark hair beyond the open door. My chair wheels gave a small squeal as I pushed to my feet. “She’s got some front, showing up here after yesterday.”
“Who?” Connor peered back over his shoulder, taking a sip of his drink. “Marianne?”
I moved closer to the opening as Marianne’s double trotted on her heels. “And her bloody clone.”
“Who’s chaperoning, Jem?” Connor came to stand at my shoulder. “You or me?”
A tilt of my head brought his face into view. “Do I get to hurt her if I go?”
“I’ve never seen you like this toward anyone before.”
“Maybe because I’ve never disliked anyone the way I do Marianne. Did Nate tell you I think she knows what we are?”
“Yes, he did.” His gaze narrowed as it flitted toward the two women nearing the apartments.
“You have any ideas on the why of it all, Connor?”
“No. But I’ll be thinking harder on it now.” He waved his mug forward an inch. “Go on. Check what they’re up to. After yesterday, I doubt I’ll be polite. I’m just not that good an actor.”
My eyebrow lifted. “And I am?”
“Good enough for Josh and Danny. It doesn’t matter about the girls. After yesterday, I reckon they know exactly the regard you hold them in, and I’m pretty sure the feeling’s mutual.”
“Maybe I can get Marianne on her own again, have another little chat.”
Connor chuckled as he herded me to the door. “Go. They’re already peering through the windows and looking for my boys.”
“Sure, okay.” Pausing, I turned back. “I really am sorry, Connor, about yesterday.”
“It’s forgotten. Now go.”
I jumped down the steps, my feet hit gravel, and I marched across to the witches on the verge of letting themselves in. “Hey!”
They turned. Their expressions suggested they’d thought the absence of the Porsche meant no me.
“Well, well, well, you’re a glutton for punishment, Marianne. Wasn’t falling short of your goal yesterday enough for you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She smiled—a sickly one that bordered on psychotic. “Besides, I’m not here to make pathetic small talk with you. Amber and I have come to visit Josh and Daniel.”
I pointed toward the flasks they each held. “Brought them some more of your special tea, I see.”
Marianne’s smiled vanished. “None of your business.”
“Hmm. If you say so.”
“Is Josh here or not?”
I held out my hand. “Why not just let me deliver the tea?”
“Because I know he won’t get it.”
“And he can’t possibly survive,”—my hand snatched out for the flask—“without his daily dose of bidding potion, right?”
Marianne blinked before she lifted her eyes and glared at me.
Concern filled Amber’s expression as she tracked from her sister to me.
I smiled at them both, unscrewing the flask lid. “So, suppose the flask has an accident, loses its contents . . .” My nose twitched the second the steam escaped, my brows tightened above my narrowing eyes. “This is a different tea.”
Marianne’s grin spread across her lips.
“Okay,” I said, “what concoction are you trying to pollute him with now?” I looked to Amber. “Is this the same one you’re hoping to get Danny to drink?”
Amber’s mouth opened and closed as her stare flitted from her sister to me again. Marianne’s dominant role stuck out like an emo at an Elkie Brooks concert.
“Whatever this game is you’re playing—you know you can’t win, don’t you?” I said to Marianne.
Her lips curved. “I always win.”
“Not this time,” I said. “I won’t let you.”
At movement beyond the glass, my gaze lifted. Daniel headed for us, teeth flashing.
I reined in my groan and straightened. “Tell me what’s in the tea, Marianne.”
“No.”
After a quick glance at the witch, my eyes fixed on Daniel. “I could make you tell me.”
“Do it then,” she sneered.
I almost did, even took a step toward her. My right hand gripped the flask tight enough to hurt. The lid etched its shape into my left palm with the pressure I exerted. If not for the swinging door at their rears, I probably would have hurt them both—gladly.
“Hey.” Daniel grinned as he crossed to Amber.
Amber’s shoulders visibly sagged. “Hello, Daniel.”
“Been here long?”
Amber sent a fleeting glance my way, and my glower dared her to say anything. “Not long,” she said.
Daniel switched to the evil twin. “I take it you’re looking for Josh.”
“Jem was just about to call him for me.” Marianne smirked at me, her eyebrow and head cocked in a ‘get out of that one’ gesture.
“Yes, I was.” With little choice, I wriggled my mobile from my pocket and dialled.
“Missing me already, Jem?” Josh answered.
“Of course. Are you busy?”
“Why? You need me to entertain you, sweetheart?” he asked, his tone low and suggestive.
“Hands off,” Sean called in the background.
I smothered my laugh. “Very tempting—very. But, I doubt Marianne would be a willing audience.”
The line fell quiet.
“Josh?”
“Is she listening to this?” he whispered.
“Nah—I’m not even near her.”
Daniel lowered his head as a small chuckle snorted out.
“That’s good. I don’t want—”
“So, shall I tell her you’re coming down? She brought tea, and it’s a new one. She sure knows how to spoil you . . .”
“Okay.” He laughed. “I’ll be down in a minute.”
I clicked off, tucking my phone back in place. “Done.”
“Thanks, Jem.” Marianne beamed.
“No problem.” I toed the dust-coated ground. “No problem at all.”
The two witches turned their attention to Daniel.
Switching off to the pukifying conversation happening among the trio, I lifted Josh’s flask to my nose for a closer sniff.
The distinct flavours of wood, spice and grass with an underlying sweetness drifted into my nostrils.
After a quick check assured me nobody showed me any interest, I drew in a deep breath, lifted the flask to my lips and, despite the moronic proportions of the act, took a sip.
Yuck!
The tea tasted of wood, grass, possibly cayenne, honey—pretty much as it smelled. I peered down into its murky depths, wondered on their latest intentions, and sampled a second sip, followed by another.
By the time Josh pushed through the glass door, the flask had lost half its contents.
15
It took a whole lot of creeping to Nathan to get the day off work on Tuesday. Eyes wide, lower lip pouting, my sorry voice explained that I’d get no more opportunities to complete my Christmas shopping if he didn’t let me go before work broke up the next day.
He’d hesitated—of course he had—and brushed at his hair whilst his eyes reflected his contemplation, but the vibration of his mobile had broken into his thoughts. Whatever he saw on the screen had creased his brow, and he’d walked away with a mumbled, “Okay then, Jem.”
Desired result achieved.
• • •
I chose the department store on purpose. Not only would it save the hassle of car park switches, but it would have everything I sought—a bonus I sorely needed with Poppy’s absence, thanks to her obligatory l
unch with her mother-in-law.
On the third floor, rows and shelves of photo albums confronted me, though it took only a few minutes to locate the right one—warm cocoa, leather bound and manly.
Around two corners of the six-foot high maze of aisles, I found the picture frames. From the unnatural blues, I padded to the wooden ones—but barely had chance to study them when a blur darted past the end of the row.
I flicked my eyes up and caught the chestnut head before it disappeared around the corner.
Not again.
Attempting not to look like an inept spy on a stealth mission, I speed-tiptoed forward, eyes narrowed, head tilted. As I passed a hanging set display, I slipped my shopping bag over one of the wire hooks and shimmied to the end of my aisle.
My head whipped round the bend—there, back—fast.
Nothing.
The woman had to have come that way. So where had she gone?
Even checking the other side of the row bore no fruit. Had she even been there to begin? Maybe one niggle too many had started to affect my imagination?
I rubbed at my face as I mumbled to myself about paranoia. “Get a grip, Jem.”
I spun the way I’d come, turned the corner and froze.
Up ahead, chestnut woman stood with her back to me, up on her toes and peering around the far end of the aisle.
“Looking for something?” I whispered beneath my breath. “Or looking for me?”
My trainer-clad feet made little noise as I crept along the length of tiled floor behind her. No rapid movement. No casted shadows.
She showed no awareness of my presence.
I came to a halt three feet from her. “Why are you stalking me?”
Her shoulders stiffened before her hand lifted—to her mouth, I assumed.
“If you wanted to follow me unawares, you should have practiced a whole lot harder before you—”
She turned.
Her arms folded across her chest, and one hand reached up to support her chin as she looked down at me.
My mouth hung open for a half second.
Only someone related to Sean would have the exact same eyes as him. Not even the change of hair colour to that in Nathan’s photographs could divert my attention from them.
Blue Moon Page 14