Trial by Moon Page 10

  I don’t sense danger anymore, as if Benjamin has reined in his wolf. I don’t think it’s possible to ever completely get used to the idea of being possessed by an animal.

  “You’re welcome,” I venture. “Fucking me might’ve saved the lives of how many people? Ten? Twelve?”

  He’s quiet for a moment, and I hold my breath, not wanting to provoke him now that I know his normal intensity is nothing compared to what he’s holding back. He lifts his head, and I can feel him watching me in the dark.

  “Twenty seven,” he whispers.

  I release my breath in relief.

  Benjamin shifts up my body. Resting his weight on the forearms on either side of my head, he covers me with his muscular frame and buries his face into my hair. “I love your smell,” he murmurs. “I’ve never let go like that with anyone else.”

  I hug him to me, strangely gratified to hear the words. I’m not the only one who’s rendered a vulnerable puddle when we’re together. The level of intimacy with a man who’s a virtual stranger is somehow natural.

  Magic, I remind myself.

  “That was kind of intense,” I admit. “And you scared me.”

  “I won’t ever hurt you.” He nuzzles the side of my neck.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah. A wolf can’t hurt his mate. Fuck her blind maybe.”

  I smile. “I like this. But I don’t,” I say and rub my cheek against his. “But I need this.”

  He chuckles. “I get it.”

  “I’m sorry you’re having a rough day.”

  He tenses. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

  I flutter kisses across his face until he relaxes again and sniffs my hair. We’ve got to talk about what happened at some point. At least, I’m assuming we do. In the dark, knowing how affected he is by us, it’s easier for me to accept this new kind of complete surrender to someone else.

  Jason’s claim about Ben being the first werewolf to be considered as a leader, and a Kingmaker mate, returns. I can almost see why no wolf has been in charge of the clans. His nature is tame by daylight – but barely.

  “I’ve got a meeting,” he says reluctantly. “If I’m late, Jason will take you out to the lake. Don’t leave his side.”

  “Okay.” I’m a little disappointed this is nothing but a fuck-and-run. I also need some serious recovery time – and a steak or two – before I go for a run this evening. I don’t want to let him go but force myself to when he pulls away.

  He kisses me gently, as if knowing I’m bruised from the rough round of lovemaking.

  “You owe me a huge breakfast,” I tell him.

  “Deal.” He’s in control again. I have a feeling, though, he’ll be close to the edge once he has to deal with Jenny.

  The sense he’s hurting remains. Listening to him locate his clothing and dress in the dark, I can’t bring myself to ask him if he’s okay. It doesn’t feel right. Or maybe, it feels too right, as if this is real. Nothing’s ever been real in the relationship department for me.

  This time when he leaves without another word, I’m relieved. I’m supposed to remain somewhat impartial, aren’t I, if my duty is to choose the successor to Gia, the recently deceased leader of the Community?

  I close my eyes and doze for a short while, until I manage to recover some of my strength. Finding my clothing is more challenging, and I end up giving up when it comes to my underwear and putting on everything else.

  With his buffer in place, I’m no longer tormented by the world and leave the janitor’s closet. My thighs are trembling. It’s impossible to keep them together. I feel like a bow-legged cowboy walking down the hallway and hope no one else notices.

  After ransacking the cabinets and fridge for as much food as I can eat in one sitting, I return to the conference room and close the door.

  What’s clear to me: I’m done with interviews. Whatever I hoped to learn, it’s not happening here.

  Chapter Nine

  The driver takes me back to Ben’s. As much as I hate to admit it, I like his house more than mine. It’s gotta be the werewolf side of me talking. I never considered my father’s house to be noisy or cramped or dreary before I set foot in Ben’s house.

  On the trip there, I can’t shake all I learned today. Jason’s visceral resentment towards the other clans, Ben’s wild side, poor Leon’s fate. I think the last is what hangs me up the most. My were-bitch is good at justifying and excusing the werewolf-centric focus of both Jason and Ben. But Leon … we both like Leon. I don’t want to see anything bad happen to him, especially since he’s an innocent caught up in a mess. I don’t know Ben well enough to presume to guess how he’ll handle Leon and those like Leon, even if Jason seems to think Ben infallible in his leadership.

  I walk into Ben’s house and immediately feel my tension melt away. My shoulders drop, and I breathe in his saturated scent. The noise and smell dampeners of his home mean I’m soon comfortable for the first time today. I’m still humming with awareness and giddiness from the quick fuck in the closet, and my skin is soaked with his scent.

  I go to the kitchen. His fridge and pantry are both fully stocked, and I help myself to a chicken sandwich, cookies, chopped fruit and whatever else I feel like eating. My wolf craves meat and sweets, and I gladly humor her.

  Seated at the breakfast table with my small feast, I open the Book of Secrets to see if there’s any more information today. No new pages are readable, so I go over what I’ve already read then turn to Ben’s biography. I’m looking for clues about his motivations, insight into whether or not he can become more than a werewolf with a grudge to lead our Community. He’s lived in California his entire life and took on his father’s business when he was about a hundred years old.

  His father’s death is listed as accidental in the biography, but the fact it occurred on a full moon kind of makes me wonder. The alpha position is hereditary and solitary, even if Ben’s brothers and sister advise him. He’s got two uncles in New York, and his mother’s death is listed as having occurred during the birth of his sister, the youngest.

  He’s close to his family, which doesn’t surprise me. His cousins and relatives all serve as officers in his company, spread out across the country to ensure his directives and rules are followed. His meteoric rise within the Community appears to be legit. I can’t find any evidence in the biography of incidents where he fucked over another supernatural. If he did, I’m sure my father would’ve recorded it.

  I’m also struggling to see into the man behind the dry account. Either my father never met Ben or there’s no deeper story to tell.

  I’m sensing my father perhaps didn’t know Ben the way I do already. In Ben’s position, he’s had to have had some interaction with the other supernaturals. It’s only natural for a clan leader to consult and call upon the other clan leaders, for there to be occasional conflict between clans requiring the attention of their leaders. He was on my father’s radar for some reason if Daddy picked Ben as one of the candidates.

  I continue reading and trying to piece together more about Ben as I go. The werewolf code, I discover towards the end of the account, is fairly simple. My father describes it thusly:

  1. Loyalty is primary among virtues to the wolves. Loyalty must be paid first to a wolf’s alpha, then his/her mate, blood relatives, pack, and lastly to non-wolves.

  2. Wolves may never take a life unless it’s for food or self-defense.

  3. An alpha’s decisions, word and actions are beyond reproach. However, special consideration must be given by the alpha towards the mate of a wolf before adverse action is taken against a wolf who breaks the code.

  It’s hard for me to accept that one man has the power over life, death, daily activities, business decisions, the fate of the pack … everything. If I were raised as a wolf, it might be easier for me to understand. I am also surprised to see the emphasis on a wolf’s mate. The line almost reads as if the alpha can’t act against a wolf if he’ll in turn cause the wolf’s mate pain
, but I’m not entirely sure. Ben said the link between a wolf and its mate is unlike any other relationship in the pack. If what I’m experiencing is a solid example, it’s as if we’re bound by more than magic.

  Similar to the rules in the Book of Secrets, the werewolf code is open to interpretation. I dwell on the three rules, and my thoughts go again to Leon.

  Picking up my phone, I debate texting Ben and asking him to consider Leon’s innocent participation.

  “It’s none of my business,” I remind myself. I’m here to gauge his ability to lead and determine if he poses danger to the Community at large. The life of a stranger shouldn’t be bothering me. I set the phone down, dissatisfied with my decision, yet not sure where to draw the line between my official duty and my conscience.

  I return to reading. The last chapter of the biography is about the contentious nature of the relationship between werewolves and the rest of the supernaturals. The only clan with a pack mentality, my father compares them to a mafia into which no one can enter or leave, which alone is enough to make the other supernaturals uncomfortable. Combined with the fact they’re more animal than human, the clans wrote them off for thousands of years as beasts incapable of being civilized let alone leading.

  A flicker of pride goes through me when I realize how far Ben must’ve brought his pack in the two hundred years he’s been around. I start to consider what it would take to civilize wild animals, and I’m not left with an answer I like. An iron fist comes to mind. My father, too, had given this some thought and listed what he thought was the explanation behind Ben creating a different kind of wolf.

  He’d have to cull his own people to rid the pack of those who can’t adapt to a new way of doing things. My father goes on to list the werewolf population numbers. In 1800, there were roughly ninety thousand. In 1900, there were sixty five thousand.

  In 2000, when the last census was done by my father, there were fifty thousand.

  Sitting back from the table, I’m feeling a little ill to my stomach.

  If Ben did this to his own people, what will he do to the Community if he’s put in charge?

  “He will do whatever it takes,” I muse aloud. I’m not sure this is a good thing. I can see how someone who knows no limit to his ambition and no restrictions to the measures he’ll take would be useful, if the Community were ever in danger. If we were at war, or if our survival was hanging in the balance, Ben would be the man for the job.

  But to my knowledge, this isn’t the case, which leaves me grappling over whether I should see him as a hero or a villain for all he’s done. He’s a change agent – a brutally effective one whose word is infallible.

  It’s kind of scary.

  Actually, it’s terrifying. What’s more: I have a hard time reasoning that he’s not capable of culling his own.

  “Hello?”

  Jarred out of my pensive quiet, I sit up and focus on my surroundings. It’s past dark. Not that I noticed, since I can read in the dark. A nightlight is on the in the hallway and I sniff the air and recognize Jason’s scent.

  “I’m here!” I call.

  He walks into the kitchen, a spring in his step. “Are you ready?” His energy is contagious, his smile huge.

  “I think so.” I stand up and replace my books into my backpack. A little nervous, and not quite able to shake my concern about Ben, I force a smile. “I hope Ben warned you and the others I’m a little clumsy.”

  Jason laughs. “You’ll do fine. Come on!”

  He leads me out of the house to a car that’s waiting. We don’t go far, and the driver drops us off by a line of cars beside a field. This is all private property, so I’m not too worried about someone stumbling upon us.

  Though I am worried about how to deal with Ben. I can’t wrap my head around someone killing off over forty thousand wolves, or that he would be the one to do it. The more I learn about him, the less certain I am of anything.

  About a dozen people are in the field, all of whom display a similar level of friskiness as Jason. Two have already turned and are rolling around and chasing one another, playing in the field. Several more are stripping out of their clothing, while three hang out together and chat as humans.

  I smile at the sight. If there’s one thing wolves do right, it’s enjoy being wolves. One of those I’m watching takes a tumble and sprawls out on the ground, earning a round of laughter from the not-yet-changed wolves. He snorts when he stands and tosses his mane to free it of grass.

  I’m not sure why it surprises me to discover the wolves are a friendly lot. My mind returns to my father’s claim of them being like a mafia. Would they be different around me, if I weren’t a temporary wolf? If I weren’t the mate of their alpha?

  “Where’s Ben?” I ask, turning to Jason.

  “He’s dealing with some things.” By the note in his voice, I can guess what things.

  It’s not a full moon. Hopefully that means he can’t be out killing his own kind, if he usually waits for the full moon to punish his people. My uneasiness is no competition for my were-bitch, who’s howling to be set free.

  “Stay close to me,” Jason tells me with Ben’s firmness. “Everyone here is friendly, and no one will bother you, if you snap at them a time or two to warn them off.”

  “I’m not so good at the aggressive thing,” I murmur.

  “Every wolf is born with the aggressive streak. You’re repressing it, whereas we’re taught from a young age how to manage it.”

  Taught or culled if they fuck up? I glance at him. He doesn’t seem to notice my tension. He’s stripping out of his clothing quickly, hazel eyes glowing with excitement.

  Ugh. It’s almost impossible for me to be rational when the moonlight is sending sharp waves of awareness through me, and my senses are picking up on everyone else’s excitement. My Kingmaker side starts to slide away, and this time, I let it, curious to be around a group of wolves for the first time. I want to experience everything each of my trials has to offer.

  Peeling off my clothes, I’m the last to turn wolf. I’m not even certain how I do transform. One minute, I’m waiting, surrounded by half a dozen eager canines. The next, I’m on the ground in agony as I turn.

  The pain hasn’t gotten any easier to bear or its duration any shorter. But it’s over a short time later, and I lay still, letting my heightened senses adjust. I can smell all the different wolves, both those that are in the field and those that took off already.

  Jason stands beside me, panting and watching me, waiting for me to stand. He’s joined by another wolf who tries to lure him into a game of chase. Jason snarls quietly at the intruder, who runs off towards a group of three.

  I climb to my feet and test my body. My were-bitch is close to taking over, and I’m happy to let her run free for a bit. It’s hard to get used to the idea of taking a backseat in my own body, to watching the world sail by while someone else controls me. It’s even harder to remind myself my were-bitch is a part of me and not some form of possession. I’d like to think she’s the clumsy one, but it’s when I interfere that I trip. She is, as Ben initially explained, my primal self, a collection of instincts, emotions and senses that are suppressed in a normal person.

  Jason is as gentle in wolf form as his brother, and he nudges me.

  More assured of my step, I ease back from controlling my new body and allow the primal wolf to guide me.

  I bolt towards the forest at full speed, soon lost in my senses, in the sights, smells and sounds of night. This is freedom at its purest, and I relish the wild, giddy heights my soul soars to as I sprint through the forest.

  Until something slams into me, and I’m knocked onto my side. Startled, I stand, unable to recall seeing a tree or rock or whatever else I might have run into. I’m confused, but my wolf is wary and quickly hones in my senses from flying every which way to several distinct scents.

  Jason, Jenny Lake, three others.

  Jason is growling. Not the nice kind of growl or the grumble of complain
t Ben often gives. This is a threat.

  The hair along my back goes up, and I register the presence of three large wolves and Jason near my side.

  He snaps at me and throws his head to the side in silent command for me to back off. My wolf isn’t about to back down, but with some effort, I manage to wrestle control from her for a second and do as Jason says. I can’t kill or fight as a wolf. I can barely run straight without tripping.

  Jason’s teeth are bared and dripping, his hazel eyes flashing fire in the patches of moonlight that pierce the forest’s canopy. The three wolves facing us are in similar stances, their heads lowered and gazes direct. Their bodies are poised to leap.

  It’s hard for me to understand my danger. My wolf is fighting me for control. I want to run; she wants to fight. I can’t even begin to untangle what’s going on and why. Vaguely, I know it’s got something to do with Jenny, who I smell but don’t see.

  But I back away, behind Jason, who shifts his position to come between the wolves and me.

  As if on cue, the three launch at him.

  I yelp, startled, and dart away from them.

  Fangs flashing, the four begin a deadly dance of snapping teeth, bucking bodies and furious snarls. Like Ben, Jason is bigger than the others and uses his size and strength to overpower the initial attack. Throwing one wolf off him, he sinks his jaws into another and rips him away before tackling the third.

  The three retreat, glaring at him. I watch, too freaked out to know what to do. Someone is bleeding. Werewolf blood doesn’t smell like ice cream, and my wolf is saddened by the smell of one of my own.

  Jason backs up until he runs into me then whips around, gripping the back of my neck with his fangs, without breaking the skin, and shoves me away. He snaps his teeth into the air between us, and I cower back, not about to come into contact with the fangs.

  He wants me to run and right now, that sounds like a damn good plan.