As he sucked, licked and nibbled on the pebbled tips of her breasts, he couldn’t resist the temptation to explore the one place on her body he hadn’t yet visited. He wet his index finger with her juices, then tentatively inched it closer to her arsehole. Since she just carried on riding him regardless, he figured she had no objections. So he moved closer until the pad of his finger touched the crinkled skin of her hole. Still no reaction. Seemed she was open to the idea.
He collected more juices and smeared them over the tight pucker, then circled it again and again before venturing to push a finger inside. Sally groaned and tightened her grip around his shaft, wrenching a grunt from his throat. He pushed deeper inside and began to slowly, gently, finger-fuck her bottom, enjoying the reactions it garnered from her. The more he did it, the more she relaxed. Her back arched, her breasts thrust into his face, and she bounced harder on him, grinding her pubic bone against his, clearly in search of her next climax.
After a while he pulled out, gathered more of her natural lubricant, this time wetting two fingers, and entered her once more. Still he encountered no resistance, just a yowling, writhing, pre-orgasmic woman. Once he was in her bottom to the hilt, he got into a delicious rhythm, fucking both her holes at once, stroking her insides, driving her wild—he hoped.
Before long, it seemed the extra stimulation was too much for her. Freezing mid-bounce, Sally threw her head back and moaned, long and low, then exploded. Her muscles contracted powerfully around his cock and fingers, unexpectedly ripping his own climax out of him.
They rode out their respective orgasms before collapsing to the mattress together, a mass of tangled, sweaty limbs. Their panting breaths filled the air, slowly reducing in volume and frequency.
Then, just before he dozed off, Matthew was sure he heard Sally say, “Next time, you can fuck my arse with your cock, not your fingers.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Isaac awoke with a groan, his emotions seemingly ahead of his consciousness on the plans for the day. Breakfast, shower, work, then a meeting at the church ahead of that night’s full moon. It wasn’t that he was dreading the meeting, more that he was dreading it would all be a terrible waste of time and they still wouldn’t catch whoever was doing this. He, his brother, Richard, and the other villagers in the know had searched tirelessly and kept their eyes and ears open for anything that might point them in the right direction, and had so far come up with nothing. Whoever the perpetrator was, they were incredibly smart—smart enough to keep slaughtering sheep without leaving a speck of evidence or behaving oddly and arousing suspicion.
As he thought about sheep, his brain provided an idea. It was much too late to implement it for that evening, but if, God forbid, the night’s plan didn’t work, then next month, maybe the farmer could put all his sheep in barns. All the villagers should be on some kind of curfew—they’d have to come up with some excuse for those not in the know—and then he and Matthew could go up to the moor and turn, like in the old days. They’d only tell a select few that last part, as if it reached the ears of their enemy, they’d just steer clear. He or she might be a match for a determined group of humans, but they wouldn’t stand a chance against him and his brother in wolf form. Knowing the sheep and villagers were well out of the way, they could use their supernatural senses to track down the sheep killer and bring him or her to justice once and for all.
He wasn’t happy about waiting another month. Every time a sheep was slaughtered, they ran the risk of someone looking too closely at the village, asking too many questions.
A mixture of secrecy, loyalty, and fake documentation had kept them hidden for over four hundred years—some being tricks they’d learned from their parents, and others that had developed over the decades out of necessity. It would have been easier, of course, to become reclusive or travel around a lot as their parents had done, but as they’d stayed in the village when the boys were young, Matthew and Isaac had grown used to it, put down roots, and therefore not wanted to leave.
It had been heartbreaking when they’d had to make a choice. Thomas and Lily Middleton, as their surname had been back then, had wanderlust just as much as Matthew and Isaac were homebodies. So when Isaac had turned eighteen, they’d given the boys a choice—go on the road with them or stay in Eyam. They’d promised to come back and visit every now and again, so it wasn’t as though it would be a permanent goodbye.
After much deliberation, the boys had decided to stay in the village. It was awful to have their parents leave, but they knew they weren’t cut out for that kind of life. Equally, they understood why their parents weren’t cut out for their kind of life—it was a miracle they’d managed to stay in Eyam for so long as it was, bringing up a family, and they were grateful for that, for having been given the best possible start in life.
They’d all changed together on the moor one last time, running wild and letting off steam. Then, when morning came, Thomas and Lily had left Eyam. They’d never come back. Word had reached them some months later that Lily had died of a broken heart, having left her beloved children behind, and Thomas, unwilling and unable to live without her, had followed soon afterwards.
Isaac and Matthew had been mortified, naturally, as they’d expected to have their parents around—albeit not physically—for hundreds more years, with their paths crossing as often as it was safe.
But they’d coped, not least due to Matthew’s strength and determination and Isaac’s brains and resourcefulness. The brothers had made a good team for hundreds of years, and Isaac was sure they would continue to do so despite their occasional disagreements. There was no way they were going to risk exposure—allow exposure. Soon, very soon, they’d get to the bottom of this, then get on with their lives.
He knew that whatever happened and whenever it happened, something was going to change. It had caused so many arguments between them over the past few months, but it was important. During their ordeal, they’d both clung to someone, someone who could provide comfort and distraction without even knowing it, helping them through one of the toughest times in their long lives.
Right at that moment, Matthew was getting that comfort and distraction from Sally as she prepared to leave the village and go back to her normal life. He wasn’t going to be a happy man, Isaac knew, especially since he’d grown very fond of her.
Isaac had kept quiet about it. He didn’t want to start another fight between them, or have his brother turn the conversation around on him, because he was having the same trouble with Nathaniel. Except, to the best of his knowledge, Nathaniel was going nowhere, and he wasn’t quite ready to address what would happen next.
But he knew he and his brother had to address things properly and find a way to achieve happiness without sacrificing everything else. Years of one-night stands, loneliness, and missed opportunities had well and truly come to a head. It wouldn’t be easy, but they had to figure something out before they lost the will to live. Literally.
The depressing and worrying thoughts forced Isaac out of bed. He couldn’t lie there and wallow in sorrow any longer. He had things to do.
*****
Later that day, he headed straight from the doctors’ surgery to the church, behaving as nonchalantly as possible. He didn’t want to draw attention from the wrong people. When he arrived, he pushed open the heavy door and strode in, nodding and smiling at people with an intense feeling of déjà vu as he made his way up to the front where Matthew and Richard stood. They exchanged tentative smiles and shook hands.
“Have you got all our, uh… stuff, for later?” Isaac asked his brother, referring to the backpack where they stashed their clothes, shoes, food, and anything else they might need for their night in the caves.
“Yes,” Matthew replied with a nod. “I’ve shoved it in the vestry for now, out of the way.”
“Great. We might have to go straight there, depending on how long this meeting takes.”
“I know. Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”
“I hope you’re right,” he replied, unable to stop the bitterness seeping into his tone. This should not be happening.
They waited while the rest of the villagers turned up, most of them arriving straight from work, too. The gathering was smaller than last time, but much more involved. They had to figure out exactly who was going to be where and when, ensure all the equipment was set up and working correctly, and, most importantly, that everyone was going to be safe.
“I’ll check the cameras,” Isaac piped up once everyone was assembled and being given tasks. It made sense given he was the technology whizz. It also meant he could move away from the group a little bit and try to have some peace and quiet. He tinkered and pressed buttons, making sure the cameras were set up correctly and ready to go. They were an incredibly important piece of the puzzle, so he didn’t want them going wrong. All the batteries were fully charged, thankfully, as he’d asked the respective owners to take care of that part.
Satisfied, he fiddled around a bit longer, just to delay heading back into the heated conversation taking place a few feet away. He could hear it, of course, and it seemed there was some disagreement as to who should be accompanying them to the caves and who should be on the moor. Isaac stifled a sigh. If they couldn’t even figure this bit out, what hope did they have when he and his brother were in wolf form and some bastard was skulking around, trying to frame them for something they hadn’t done?
He collected up the cameras, stood, then strode into the thick of the voices, thrusting the devices out in front of him. “Right, these are all checked and ready to go. Shall we get sorted and head off? Otherwise you’re going to have two large wolves running around in here.” He glanced at his watch to make a point, even though it wasn’t quite that late yet.
Richard cleared his throat. “Yes, yes, Isaac. Great idea.” He quickly assigned people to positions. There were a few black looks and mutters, but the brothers glared at anyone who dared to disagree, which soon shut them up. “Right, here’s the plan…”
The ever-efficient vicar had plotted on an Ordinance Survey map where the dead sheep had been found, showing the area the perpetrator favoured and how they’d be most likely to get to and from it. “There’s no way they’re going to be trying to get through all the underbrush. It’d be incredibly hard work and impossible for them to be quiet while doing that. So if we keep watch along the path, especially at the entrances on each end of the moor, our sheep slaughterer should be easy enough to spot. As soon as we see him or her grab an animal, we’ve got enough evidence to get them convicted, okay? So, for goodness’ sake, don’t alert them to your presence too early, or we’ve got nothing that would hold up in a court of law.”
Isaac couldn’t help but admire the vicar’s optimism, and hoped like hell he was right. If he was, this would all be over—
No, he couldn’t let his brain wander onto that track yet again. He’d been disappointed too many times and it was messing with his head.
There was another outbreak of babble. Isaac pasted an interested expression onto his face but actually zoned out. It almost seemed pointless to listen—he and his brother would be stuck in the Stoney Middleton caves, unable to do a damn thing to help.
After a while, it seemed everyone was satisfied, knew what they were doing, where and when. And not a moment too soon, because it was getting pretty close to the time he and Matthew needed to leave to head to the caves. Richard was aware of this, and he made sure nobody had any final questions, then got everyone loaded up with their respective equipment and on their way.
The vicar was going with Isaac and Matthew, a fact they both agreed and disagreed with. They agreed he should be there, right there where they changed, to be one of the villagers who captured the irrefutable proof that they were not doing anything wrong. But, on the other hand, they would have felt better had he been going with the group heading onto the moor, organising folks and being his usual incredibly capable self. They knew how much the proof meant to him, however, so they honoured his decision.
“Okay,” Richard said, turning to them. “Want to get what you need and leave? We don’t want you bursting out of your clothes like the Incredible Hulk on the way there, do we?”
Isaac smiled at his friend. “No, we absolutely do not. I’ll get the bag.”
“It’s all right,” Matthew said, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I know where I put it. I’ll grab it.”
With a shrug, Isaac headed outside to wait, Richard following close behind.
“You all right?” the vicar asked. “You’re awfully quiet this evening.”
“I know, sorry. It’s just… oh, I dunno. I should be excited, I suppose, that tonight is going to prove Matthew and I aren’t responsible for the dead sheep. And I kind of am, but you know better than anyone how we’ve been disappointed for the past couple of months now, hoping we’d be able to find out who’s doing this. I really want the person caught tonight, but at the same time, I daren’t let myself get my hopes up, just in case.”
Richard nodded thoughtfully. “I can see where you’re coming from. And I’m not going to insult your intelligence by trying to reassure you that everything’s going to go perfectly tonight. We both know that things could go wrong, but I will assure you that I and the rest of the group will do everything humanly possible to make sure we get the right result. I just hope we don’t let you down.”
Isaac gave a small smile. “Richard, you have nothing to worry about in that regard. Matthew and I know you would never let us down. You’ve always had our backs, have been a great friend to us and to the village, and more supportive than anyone could ever ask for. If things don’t work out as we hope, it’s certainly not down to you, and we definitely won’t be disappointed in you. We’re so grateful for your help and appreciate the danger you’re putting yourself in for us.”
Shrugging, Richard dropped his gaze to the path. “Think nothing of it. You’ve been good friends to me and this village, too. You’re good men—the best—and I won’t rest until this is over and your lives can go back to normal. It’s the least you deserve.”
Matthew exited the church and closed the door behind him. “Okay, gents, I’m ready when you are. Where’s everyone else?”
“Those going to the moor headed straight there. They’re going to park at the youth hostel and walk so our sheep killer doesn’t spot the cars and get spooked. The men coming with us have already started walking down there. I told them we’d catch them up, meet them at the Eyam Dale shaft.”
Matthew shook his head incredulously. “Richard, you’re a wonder. You’re wasted as a clergyman. You should be a politician or something. Someone with the power to help and change the entire country, not just one tiny village.”
Richard grinned wryly. “But this tiny village means everything to me. And besides, I’m not nearly crooked enough to be a politician.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Isaac awoke with a groan for the second day in a row. This time, it was less to do with the day ahead and more to do with the fact he was stark naked and lying on a stone floor. He got to his feet and went over to grab the backpack his brother had stashed in a crevice in the cave wall. After pulling their clothes out of the bag, he tossed a bundle to his brother, an action that woke him, then scrambled into his own gear as fast as possible.
“Ugh,” he said to a blinking-awake Matthew, “this is always the worst bit. So bloody cold!” Hopping from foot to foot, he rubbed his arms. “We ought to get some heating installed down here.”
Shaking his head, Matthew stumbled to his feet and began getting dressed. “I think folks might notice if there were suddenly mod cons installed in a cave system. It’s a bugger we can’t stay awake long enough to change back into human form. If we did, we could get dressed and use sleeping bags. Of course,” he slapped his forehead theatrically, “if we changed back before heading to the Land of Nod, we’d just go home and sleep in nice, comfortable, warm beds rather than staying in here. Christ, I need coffe
e.”
“Yeah,” Isaac said, retrieving two cereal bars and handing one to his brother. “Me too. Let’s go and see how everyone got on, shall we?”
Matthew sighed. “Damn, my brain hadn’t cottoned on to that yet. You couldn’t have just left me oblivious for a while longer, could you?”
“Sorry. But your oblivion would only have lasted as long as it took us to get out of here anyway.”
“True.” He made short work of the cereal bar and stuffed the wrapper into his pocket. “Come on—let’s go and find out what happened last night. I suppose we’ve just got to think positive. Whatever happens, there’s now video evidence that we did not leave these caves last night.”
“Agreed.”
Within minutes, they had squeezed out of the cave system and emerged into the light. Blinking, they quickly spotted the group who’d been watching the Gin entrance overnight. The camera still stood there on its tripod, the light flashing as it recorded their emergence.
“Morning, guys,” Isaac said, smiling as he approached the makeshift campsite and the dishevelled-looking men gathered around it. “I won’t ask if you had a good night, as it’s a stupid question. But we appreciate you putting yourselves out for us, especially in this weather.” It was almost November, and a chilly autumn was in full force. He paused. “Hey, where’s Richard?”
One of the men jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Over there somewhere. He’s taking a phone call.”
“Oh right, cool. We’ll help you get packed up then, and make a move.”
The vicar appeared on the path, his face pale and drawn. Isaac’s heart dropped into his shoes. He wanted to believe it was lack of sleep that had given his friend that look, but deep down he knew that wasn’t the case.
“Richard?” he said, drawing the man’s attention to him as he approached. “What is it? What happened?”
He waited until he was next to Isaac and Matthew before speaking. “That was John Rayne on the phone. I’m really sorry, but it’s not good news. The group on the moor set up exactly as we’d agreed. Nothing happened for hours on end, and they were just beginning to think nothing would happen when they heard a commotion. They left the cameras and ran in the direction of the noise. By the time they got there, they were too late. The man who’s been doing this had already,” he stopped, swallowed hard, “gutted another sheep. From what they could see with their torches and lamps, it was brutal. They tried to catch him, but he gave them the slip.” He dropped his head into his hands and sighed heavily. “The only plus points, I suppose, are that we now have absolute proof it’s not you two, and that we’ve got more to go on. Apparently, the person in question wore a balaclava and was all in black, but his body shape, height, and the way he moved showed it was a man. So I’m afraid your theory was wrong, Isaac. Whoever is doing this is male.”
The Persecution of the Wolves Page 21