Betrothed to the Moon

by Wynter Boudreaux

  Betrothed to the Moon

  by

  Wynter Boudreaux

  Book Two

  of the

  Brightworld Saga

  Betrothed to the Moon Published by Amazon Digital Services, LLC

  © 2019 Wynter Boudreaux

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact the author.

  Note from the author: the following work is a product of fantasy. It is not meant to mimic real-life situations or people and should not be regarded as anything more than entertainment. All acts depicted in this work feature consenting adults and are fictional and should be treated as such; the viewer is responsible for the legal ramifications of engaging with the text in the place where they live. No laws were broken in the country of its origin (US).

  Contents

  Betrothed to the Moon

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Author Biography

  Excerpt from BOUND TO THE WOLF

  Chapter One

  Serena was exhausted.

  Nothing was going as planned—the boxes fell apart during the move and her stuff was scattered all over the U-Haul, she’d had to make three dang trips to get all of her things, it was raining buckets, and the real estate agent was late for the signing. Part of her truly wished she hadn’t found the ad in the paper, describing her dream home: “Garden cottage on creek bed. Only accessible by foot. Looking for long term lease with option to buy (1.4 acre plot). Viewable by appointment only.” But of course she had seen it, and she’d fallen deeply in love with the little property--even if she’d also seen the man who was selling it, scowling down on her U-Haul as it trundled past the giant, ramshackle mansion that stood menacingly over the entire property.

  On her first visit, the nervous, pushy realtor guided her across the vast hills to the tucked away alcove and tried to distract her with small talk, which didn’t work. Why was that frowning specter even bothering to rent the cottage, she wondered, if he didn’t want someone driving by his house every day? She would never know; it didn’t matter.

  What mattered was that she’d listened to the new, fragile part of her heart--the part that told her this was where she was supposed to live, this tiny little one room cottage covered in wisteria and surrounded by fall mums. She’d worked hard to hear her heart’s voice, so she listened carefully. It didn’t matter that the man who actually owned the cottage didn’t seem to want anyone to live there. It wasn’t her problem. If he felt ambivalent, he could live with the rent check… It didn’t matter how relieved the agent had been, how they’d babbled on and on, how nothing seemed to go her way. Nothing ever seemed to, anyway. Serena wanted to rent the place as soon as she actually saw it, and she would rent until she got enough money to buy, because buy she would. The new, quiet song in her heart sang when she saw it, and she knew it was the right decision.

  That was all over, now; the day was done, the papers signed, even the U-Haul returned. Now the sun was setting, the rain was dying down, and she was home. Serena looked at the boxes stacked around her on the floor--the movers were late, and they’d dropped half of everything they brought in, and here she was, surrounded by the cracked containers holding her whole life… But who cared? Her life was here, in these four, cozy walls, and she would own this beautiful little plot as soon as she could save up enough for the difference.

  Shaun always talked about--

  Never mind that, she told herself. Never mind that shiver creeping along her spine, never mind the memories that came with it. Never mind.

  Serena took a deep breath and pulled one of the cardboard boxes towards herself. As she unfolded the eaves and reached inside, she heard a noise. An echoing, deep rumble… Like thunder.

  But thunder couldn’t be inside her house.

  And this noise certainly was.

  Serena jumped to her feet. Where the heck was that sound coming from? Was it coming from outside the cottage? She desperately hoped that when she threw open the front door the sound would mysteriously disappear… No dice. Serena stood there with the quiet all around her, a light breeze shifting the heavy bulbs of the wisteria so that they bobbed up and down; she listened. Nope. Nothing.

  Had she imagined it?

  Serena crept back inside and leaned over the box of stuff. Was there anything in there that might..? No, she scolded herself, of course not. The whole countryside was empty except for her. Even the scowling man in the mansion was at least a mile away, and even he couldn’t thunder. Not literally, anyway.

  Serena chewed on the raw end of her thumb, and wondered if her nervousness had more to do with the move. She hated moving. But she loved this place. It was bound to be a funny mix. This was no big deal, considering everything she’d been through--

  There it was again.

  Serena sprung to attention. She reached down and grabbed the handle of a cast-iron frying pan from the open box by her feet. Standing completely still in the center of her living room, she listened.

  There.

  In the cellar.

  Oh my gosh, Serena thought, sweat immediately beading on her forehead. Not the cellar. This cottage was too new to be haunted!

  Wasn’t it?

  She glanced around; no, definitely remodeled, definitely old. But not haunted, she scolded herself, hearing the thunder again. Her hand began to shake; that wasn’t thunder. Thunder didn’t come from a cellar. It was a growl.

  Well, at least it’s not a ghost, she told herself, and began to lightly walk across to the cellar door. Ghosts were imaginary; this was an animal, and animals were real. The door was practically invisible, sunken into the wooden floor all around it and openable only with a heavy iron handle. To pull it, she’d need to put down her frying pan and use both hands.

  Was it worth it? She wasn’t sure. Anything that made a sound like that was destined to be huge. This wasn’t a small, frightened puppy. This was a beast.

  She gritted her teeth. Serena always had a soft spot for animals, no matter how violent or dangerous. Her mother said she would’ve adopted sharks, if it were possible. Shaun once told her…

  Enough about Shaun, she hissed to herself.

  The sound was low, rumbling and dangerous, and rose from somewhere beneath her feet. Serena put down the frying pan, used the back of her hand to wipe the sweat from her brow, and reached towards the black iron handle. She clasped it with both hands.

  The growl disappeared.

  See? Serena reassured herself. It’s nothing. Don’t be a chicken.

  With all the strength she had, Serena yanked the cellar door open. Swirls of dust rose from the stairwell barely visible to her in the weak light. She could see that they weren’t as well maintained as the rest of the house, and in the mounds of dust covering them… There were footprints. Fresh ones.

  Well.

  Not footprints, exactly.

  Paw prints.

  She was right; whatever was down there was huge. She couldn’t tell if it was a bear, a huge dog, or something else altogether; she didn’t know enough about animals. But Serena did know one thing: it needed to leave her cottage. She’d
just put down the deposit!

  How did it get down there in the first place?

  There wasn’t any other way into the cellar. The realtor carefully explained that there were only two entrances in or out of the cottage, both of them prim doors with large glass panes. There wasn’t even a second story, just the loft with her mattress on it. If the animal was down there--and there definitely was a giant, rumbling beast down there, since it kept announcing itself--it had to have come from inside.

  How?

  It didn’t matter, she realized, looking around herself. Maybe it would leave if the door was open. Maybe a handyman, getting the property ready for rental, had left it propped open or something, and the animal got stuck inside. Maybe it was an accident--these things happened all the time in the country, she told herself. Don’t make a big deal out of it.

  “I’m leaving it open,” she called down into the hole. She didn’t entirely understand why, but for some reason it seemed to be the right thing to do. “I’m going to go up on the loft, and you can just walk right out the front door, okay?”

  She crept away from the hole, worrying that if she hurried, for some reason, the animal would barrel out and eat her. Serena quickly opened the door and then slid along the wall towards the ladder to the loft. After she quietly slipped up, she pulled the ladder up too. That way, if it happened to be a bear, it couldn’t climb up after her.

  Well, she thought, not easily anyway.

  There wasn’t any cell phone reception this far out into the country; that had been part of the appeal for her. Nothing but the running water of the creek, low grade solar, a big fireplace, and her.

  For the millionth time that day, part of her—an older part, a more fearful part--wished she had never, ever seen that ad.

  Chapter Two

  He was hurt. Bad. Jared rolled over on his side and gasped as his bruised ribcage sang with pain. It felt like his whole body was on fire, and he couldn’t do anything about it.

  The ringing footsteps somewhere above him echoed down through his head like they were walking on his skull. How could anyone bear this much pain and live? It was unreal that his father had…

  His father hadn’t, he suddenly realized, and the grief rocketed through his body like a shock. His father hadn’t lived through this, or if he had, he hadn’t shared the pain with his son. He hadn’t prepared him. Jared swore again, but it came out as another growl. His father wasn’t alive to explain any of this to him, and if he’d managed to live through this… Whatever it was, he’d been damn good at hiding it.

  That bastard, Jared thought angrily, his mind turning to the step-father that had chased him--forced him, with hunting dogs and his own unknowing family--from his rightful home. His dad dies less than a week ago, and Jared, the rightful heir to his estate, was now trapped in the cellar of his grandmother’s cottage. Fighting for his life.

  What life could it really be, though…? Jared glanced over his body in the slatted light filtering from upstairs and shuddered. He was an animal now. A wolf.

  A monster.

  He had so many questions… And no one to ask. He was completely, totally alone, trapped in this voiceless body.

  ...Except for those footsteps.

  Jared snorted as the cellar door swung open. Were they coming for him at last? He’d barely made it across the mansion grounds with his life… Had they figured out where he was? Someone had to eventually…

  He’d give them the fight of their lives.

  He wasn’t going to die laying down.

  Slowly, painfully, Jared brought his body onto all fours. His powerful muscles stretched and skidded across the shaking skeleton, still so new to him; he made himself take one foot and place it in front of the other--one paw, he snarled to himself--as he turned towards the stairs. The light was blinding. He raised his nose and sniffed, the smells overwhelming his mind as he tried to sort through them.

  Grandma, still, after all these years.

  Cardboard. Lots of it.

  Other things: whiffs of cast iron, oil, wood and cloth.

  And layered over everything was…

  Woman. Delicate, enticing, strong. His heart clenched.

  Forbidden.

  He couldn’t go upstairs, he realized. He couldn’t go anywhere--she was probably terrified of the beast she had to know was hiding here.

  If she was working for his step-father, he’d already be dead.

  Instead, she must be some sort of… Test.

  That’d be just like my step-father, Jared thought. He probably thinks I’m a killer now. He sent this sacrifice here to see whether or not she would survive a night with the beast in the basement.

  And she will, Jared decided, resolving himself. I’m just going to lay down here. I’m going to stay, until I…

  He let the thought trail away. Maybe he could change back.

  Maybe he would die.

  Only one way to find out.

  Jared let his eyes close and lay back down in the dust.

  Chapter Three

  The rumbling growls grew quieter, until they were barely there. Serena leaned over the edge of the loft to try and peek down the dusty shaft, but had no luck. If she wanted to see what was down there, she’d have to go herself.

  It was stupid. She should have someone she could call, someone she could rely on in this situation… She should have friends, Serena realized, and her pride fell. Once upon a time she did have friends… But now they were all part of that other life, the one where she was a follower, never a leader, and Shaun had been her guide. Shaun, the whole reason she woke up in the morning, the reason she was able to…

  No, she thought, plunking back on her mattress and staring up at the ceiling. Shaun was just another bad excuse for the way she had lived. Shaun was just a guy--a beautiful, calculating, manipulator… But just a guy, like any other guy. Serena crushed her eyes closed as she thought about those days with the House of Victory. The group approached her in college, presenting themselves as a religious organization. Serena had never considered herself very spiritual, but she was alone at school, and in life; her mother and father had both passed away, and she was living in the dorms with no room-mate. She made a perfect target. Shaun was the leader, a wonderful preacher that could make even the most bizarre suggestion sound perfectly reasonable. A lonely eighteen year old like Serena was just waiting for someone like him to suggest she join their organization, to devote her whole life to it… And to him.

  But when she’d suggested getting married, Shaun had laughed. Married? He stared at her. We’re not ready to get married. You haven’t proven what kind of wife you’ll be—you have to have faith, Serena.

  You’re a soldier in our army.

  And that was it. Her world crumbled around her--she’d given all of her savings to the organization in exchange for a place in heaven and a pat on the head from Shaun. She gave all of her time, all of her energy. She had lived in an apartment with four other women, cloistered above the church, all of whom were also engaged to Shaun. He had every one of us believing we were special, Serena thought, staring at the ceiling.

  But we weren’t.

  She knew one day Shaun would chose a first wife, but she would be someone politically connected and powerful. Her therapist had explained this to her over the past year as she went through the process of severing her life from the House of Victory. When she finally decided to move out of the apartment, leaving her four ‘friends’ behind, she saw what kind of support the organization really gave. No one offered to help. No one answered her texts or her phone calls. No one cared—or worse, they told her she was a sinner, and bound for Hell.

  She was on her own.

  Her therapist was her life-line, but there were only so many times she could say the same things: it’s time to find out who you are, Serena. Who is this person inside of you? Get away from this life, and choose one you really want!

  After three months of encouragement, Serena saw the ad in the paper. She was still sneaking
out to see her therapist, and hiding the fact that she didn’t believe in the mission any more. The cottage was a perfect place to get away. It was only forty five minutes from town; she could still see her therapist and work part-time once her savings ran out without too much trouble. She’d stopped tithing everything to the House of Victory and was surprised how quickly she’d saved up enough to take six months for herself. With her bank account, a cottage by a creek, and time on her hands, Serena planned to find out what kind of life she really wanted.

  But in the meantime… She was here. Between the growls, her unpacked boxes, and the scowling man on the hill.

  Serena reluctantly pushed the ladder back over the edge of the loft. It thudded onto the wooden floor and she winced, waiting for the creature to launch out of the hole… But nothing happened. Instead, she carefully stepped onto it, using her bare toes to grip the thin slats as she descended. The cottage was silent. She crept towards the cellar and listened to each tiny sound, but there was nothing but the light breeze stirring the trees outside. Maybe there was another way out, and the animal was gone? It had been an hour, at least, since she’d opened the cellar door.

  Serena saw a flashlight in one of her boxes and brought it over to the cellar. She turned the light on and began to walk down the stairs, then thought better of it. Instead, she should hang her head down from the opposite end and see what she could see. Nothing could reach her over there, and she’d be closer to the ladder anyway. Serena went and laid down, belly flat on the wooden floor. She eased her way to the edge and dangled her hand with the flashlight over, holding her breath. Nothing. No noises, no rumbling, no growling. She scooted further along the edge and slowly let her head follow her hand, peering in to the dark with the aide of the shaking beam of light.

  It was a man.

  Serena was so startled she almost dropped the flashlight. Taking a deep breath and staring, unbelieving, into the shadowy corner, Serena couldn’t believe her eyes. Sure enough, that was definitely a man.