Page 22 of Black Willow Witch
And right then, she made an informed and very mature decision.
She was going to fuck with him.
‘Not until after I’ve masturbated, showered and smoothed oil all over my skin.’
His jaw clenched, and a muscle in his cheek ticked.
Hiding a smile, she took a sip of her tea. He waswaytoo serious. ‘Can I help you with something?’
He planted his feet. ‘We should talk.’ A firm statement littered with intent.
‘Okay.’ Was Emberlyn going to invite him in? Uh, no. Werewolf social ‘rules’ were different; you had to be careful to speak their language.
You didn’t let them into your home. You didn’t feed them. You didn’t let them leave their possessions in your house. Otherwise, you basically indicated that they could have rights where you were concerned if they wanted to claim them. And if you gave an inch with a werewolf, they’d take a mile.
He crossed his arms over his packed-with-muscle chest. ‘First of all, I’ve got to know if you’re going to contest the will and try to claim the land.’
‘Nope.’
‘Just nope?’
She propped her hip against the doorjamb. ‘Just nope.’
He narrowed his eyes, skeptical. ‘Why not?’
‘One, I don’t need it. Two, it rightfully belongs to you anyway. Three, I wouldn’t disrespect my grandmother’s last wishes. Though you should probably be aware that she only left it to you as part of a strategy.’
‘Strategy?’
‘She left me a note, making it clear she’d wanted me to have the manor. Partly because she knew I was the only Vautier who wouldn’t sell it. She also knew I’d be subsequently facing all sorts of problems. You owning most of the land beside the manor limits those problems for me.’
He grunted. ‘I don’t care why she did it so long as I get to keep possession of the land.’
‘As I said, I have no interest in taking it from you. But there are those who’ll try,’ Emberlyn warned.
He dismissed that with a look, evidently unconcerned. ‘If that happens, I’ll deal with it.’
Emberlyn didn’t doubt it. He was a wolf who knew how to get shit done. The kind you’d look at and think,He could handle it. Given all he’d endured and pushed through, you’d likely be right.
He took two smooth steps forward, making her pulse hiccup. ‘As for another reason I’m here . . . you’re probably not aware of this, but I had an arrangement with your grandmother.’
‘An arrangement?’
‘She made a certain elixir for me on a monthly basis.’
Emberlyn felt her head twitch to the side. ‘What sort of elixir?’
‘The sort that aids a werewolf in fighting the pull of the moon, but higher strength than that of typical potions.’
‘Ah.’ Full moons called to werewolves; called to them to shift, run, mate. Some would spend time as a wolf. Some would spend the night fucking. Some would do a little of both.
The problem? It was very easy for werewolves to change into their In-between forms on full moons. Potions could help them fight it so they could instead enjoy the evening.
While all werewolves were susceptible to its pull, it was far worse for Ripper. At the age of eleven, he’d done as Michael had – he’d turned Rabid and fled to Bloodhill. He’d also done what Michaelhadn’tdone.
He’d come back.
Mere days after his fifteenth birthday, he’d stumbled into town while in a Rabid state. Members of his clan had captured him and – with the help of magick – snapped him out of it. No one had expected him to behimselfagain, though.
