Black Moon (9 page)

“Ah, ah, ah,” she cuts in, wagging her first finger in a tick-tock motion. “Never write off this wonderful place until you’ve gotten to know it. All I’m asking is for a chance, Candra. You and I could become great friends.”

I laugh, having no idea why. I sound crazy. Maybe I am losing my mind. “You’re so full of shit,” I tell her. Adding, “You don’t have any friends—and brainwashing people into choosing your side doesn’t count.”

She opens her mouth to speak, but closes it just as quickly.

Ben steps in. “All right, listen to me,” he says, focusing on my face, my eyes . . . my lips.
Don’t even go there.

I’m just observing you observing me.

You’re dramatizing something that we need to refrain from at the moment, Candra.

Such a charmer!

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever. Come with me.” He tugs on my arm, but I pull back.

I half-snort, half-laugh. “Don’t be stupid. I’m not going anywhere with you, except maybe through that front door.”

He casts a quick side glance toward his Mom, and then back at me, which would’ve been undetectable if I wasn’t paying attention.
You’re the one being stupid. They’ll only make it worse for you if you resist.

Resist what? The fact that I was kidnapped?

You weren’t kidnapped. You gladly came with us. Now, come with me so I can fill you in on what happened last night.

We glare at each other for at least two minutes solid. Reluctantly, I give in. It’s not like my options are great right now. I can easily try an escape through the front door, but that means I’d be up against Mrs. Conway and Cameron—and that’s just on the inside. I’m sure Ethan, Mr. Conway and a few Followers are standing watch on the outside, just in case.

Speaking of Cameron, who is the resident problem initiator, he’s unusually quiet as he stares off past the backyard, into the forest. I pause before Ben can lead me down the hallway.

“What’s with you? Don’t have anyone to show off for?” I ask.

Cameron turns around to see who I’m talking to, I assume, and is caught off-guard that it’s him, but quickly regains his self-control. “I’m still my typical self. You’re just making it too easy right now, waltzing in here like a dog with a piece of meat dangling in front of it.” He smirks, eyes averting toward Ben for a brief second. “Guess we all know who the meat is.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Is that so? I’ve got news for you; just wait until my family hears about this. If they so much . . .” I trail off once Cameron and Mrs. Conway begin to laugh.

“They were there. They know
exactly
where you are. Although, they probably won’t come for you anytime soon since most of them were injured in the fight,” he says, grinning.

Swallowing away the sudden swell in my throat, I question the injuries, and the brawl.

“Oh yeah,” responds Cameron. “They were hurt pretty badly. I’m not sure who was who, but the blood and whimpering proved we won yet again.” He shakes his head like it’s funny they defeated my family and friends. “Never gets old.”

I’m going to bitch slap the smile off his face. I stalk toward him. When he realizes what I’m doing, he charges me, slamming my entire body into a wall. Ben comes from my right, tackling Cameron to the ground like he’s a linebacker. Cameron recovers swiftly, though, and stands up. They move in rapid blurs across the room, destroying everything in their path—glass vases, pictures hanging on the wall, the couch and loveseat cushions, empty plates on the coffee and end tables. Despite their stupidity, Mrs. Conway doesn’t move from her perch on the arm of the La-Z-Boy. I, however, hide out in the hallway until the brotherly tiff is over.

“Enough,” Mrs. Conway orders. “Benjamin, take our guest to her room. Cameron, go see if your father needs help with anything.” She sighs. “I wish I could have just one day out of the year where there isn’t chaos. That would be absolute Heaven.”

Ben straightens his shirt while Cameron glares at me.

“C’mon,” says Ben, grabbing hold of my arm and jerking me down the hall with him. We descend a set of stairs to the basement below. It’s cold and dismal down here. The walls are made of large grey stones, and there are several linked cages, which look like jail cells.

“Don’t tell me this is where I’m staying.”

He gives me a look, one that says,
Duh! This isn’t a Hilton.

“No way! I’m not staying in these nasty things!”

“You really don’t have much of a choice. Until you gain your power, my family will keep you here.”

“And then what? Kill me?” I cross my arms. “Please, Ben. Save yourself the trouble and get me out of here. You and I both know my family won’t wait that long to save me, and when they do, they’ll have back-up.”

He leans in so close I can smell the mint on his breath, the sweat from not showering since yesterday and the primal urge for . . . something, though I’m not sure what that is exactly. It’s forbidden and physical and vital. This is new to me, this heightened sense. Positive it has everything to do with my being a werewolf now, it’s something I’ll have to familiarize with.

“You think we don’t know your family will come for you? They’d be walking into a trap. I’m sure they’re smarter than that. So, don’t expect them to attend dinner tonight; it might take a while.”

Ignoring his statement, I do something totally out of character: I lean toward him . . . and sniff. Why this impulse came over me, I may never know. But what I do know is that I
had
to do it.
 

He jerks back. “What the hell, Candra? Keep your animal side in check. That’s just creepy.”

Instead of taking his advice, I do the exact opposite—I yank on his shirt so that he and I are chest to chest, stomach to stomach, thigh to thigh. Then I smell him again while resting my cheek against his torso. He turns his head away, embarrassed, I suppose.

“Sorry, but you smell delicious,” I say, still clinging to his shirt with my hands. I even close my eyes every time I inhale.

“Stop it,” he demands, but makes no action to block me.

I watch him, then. He won’t look at me; like he’s afraid I’ll find out his deepest, darkest secret. Maybe he is hiding something. Maybe this is my way of finding out. Seeing him so vulnerable empowers me to carry on, so I run a finger from his neck to his waist, taking my sweet time, stopping at a couple of points along the way. His breath hitches when I reach the top of his boxers, and he grabs my wrists, anger flaring behind his eyes as they lock with mine.

“I said
stop
,” he commands through clenched teeth.

Even though he’s mad, there’s a cavernous part of me that wants to continue, that’s forcing me to find his weakness. What is it, exactly?

“Ben,” I fuss, “you don’t really want me to stop, do you?” I curl my lower lip into a pout, peeking up at him through my lashes.

His eyes expand and then return to normal. “Damn it,” he mumbles, releasing my wrists. Hands on hips, he takes a couple of steps away from me. One of his hands to run over his face like he’s wiping something away. “We can’t do this, Candra. This is bad. Very bad.”

Okay, now I have no idea what he’s talking about. I was just messing with him. “What?”

“You’re, ah, you’re going to have some desires that, um, aren’t normal. God, I can’t believe I’m having this conversation with you right now.” He covers his eyes with one hand, but continues talking. “When you turn, everything is heightened—all of your senses, wants, needs.” He uncovers his face to look at me. What he sees, I’m unsure, but it’s enough to make him question if I have any clue what he’s going on about.

“Okay, I get it,” I say. “But I didn’t mean to force your werewolf hormones to ride the never-ending sexual Ferris wheel.”

“Candra! God, seriously . . .”

I snort. “You really don’t like talking about this stuff, do you?”

He moves forward, just a couple of steps closer, but not as close as we were. “My family is upstairs. If they wanted, they could listen to all of our conversations.”

“And everything else, right?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

Having caught him red-handed, I smirk. I saunter toward him exactly the same way he did with me days ago in my room. His retreats, back striking the stone wall, entire body tensing the nearer I become. Close, yes, but not close enough to touch. Knowing this aggravates his cravings, and that it’s pushing him to the brink of self-control, I can’t help but test him. He’s the one who tricked me into this soul-mate mess, so why not have some fun while I’m locked up?

I smell passion, and the ample throb of seduction, radiating from his skin. He
wants
this.

Pushing myself up on the tips of my toes, I’m close enough to his mouth to leave an impression. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about,” I whisper against the edge of his mouth. A small amount of whisker stubble pricks my lips. Pressing myself into the curves of his body, we’re molded as one. I flash sensual images of us together through my mind, knowing he can see everything, to tease him further.

He grabs me by the arms and tosses me to the ground, marching toward the stairs leading up to the main floor. I land on my side, next to one of the cells.

“What was that for?” I yell. Not what I had in mind.

His mental battle is apparent in the way he won’t look at me, and then his eyes illuminate a deep yellow before he charges toward me. Having no idea what he’s about to do, I scramble to stand and fight back. But he’s way too fast. He clasps my upper arms again, slamming me against the hard wall.

“Have you completely lost your mind?” he asks, out of breath.

This is what you wanted, Ben. You brought this on yourself when you . . . What was it again? Sealed the deal?

He breathes roughly through his nose. In and out. In and out. Glaring the entire time.
It doesn’t mean you have to turn into a vixen and tempt me.

I move my head forward so that my lips graze his when I speak. “You love it; otherwise, you wouldn’t be putting on this show.”
Besides, they can’t hear the conversation in our heads, right? So, why are you worried?

If they can’t hear me speak, they’ll assume something’s wrong.

You’re afraid they’ll interrupt.
It’s not a question, so I cock one eyebrow.

Those black eyes of his bounce back and forth, scanning mine.
Yes,
he confirms.

What if they didn’t have to find out?

His turn to raise a brow.
And what, exactly, did you have in mind?

“Well . . .” I pause, tracing circles on his T-shirt. “You could still talk to me, but it wouldn’t be real. As long as we keep the conversations going, we’ll trick them.”

He relaxes and grins, exposing his white teeth. “I like this idea.”

“But not tonight. You’ve already been down here long enough. If they get suspicious—”

“—they’ll come looking for me,” he finishes.

“Right. Now, can I at least get some sheets and a pillow, maybe even food?”

He releases me, running his fingers through his dark hair. “I don’t know, Candra. It would be afterhours before I could reach you.” Seeing my look of despair, he adds, “But I’ll try.” Running one thumb across my cheek, he bends over and kisses me without lingering.

“I think you can do better than that,” I say, a little put off with his lack at any attempt to make me feel comfortable during my imprisonment.