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And Ashwood…his betrayal had cut deepest.
So he’d trusted Madam Langley and any of the lads at Moon Flower—hell, even the gentlemen they’d serviced two nights a week—over the man standing in front of him.
Bellamy always knew he might eventually be exposed or discovered.
But not like this. Never like this. He thought he would be strong and confident against other wolves or those wanting to hurt him, not on his deathbed, unable to even lift his head to look the traitor in the eye.
Chapter 2
“You’re right. There was no way for Madam Langley to know what violet fever would do to you,” Ashwood said. “Only a wolf would understand how much energy is required to heal properly from such a powerful illness.”
Ashwood stood and walked toward the window. The moon was not quite full but would be soon, and it struck Bellamy that he no longer felt any stirring beneath his skin, not like he did when he first arrived at Moon Flower and came of age.
“There’s not many of us left as it is,” Ashwood continued. “Some went into hiding after we were hunted. At least, that’s what our kind believes.”
The madam had told Bellamy tales of the lupine annihilation from long ago when the government of Etria decided to eliminate the threat of the creatures hunting or harming humans. Some wolves had escaped the slaughter, and as long as they kept to the shadows and brought no further harm to humans, they were no longer pursued. Generations had passed since then, and the wolves had become more of a myth than anything else. That seemed to fit what Ashwood was revealing now.
“We were supposed to protect each other. Though I’m not sure I believe that anymore.” Ashwood sighed. “Perhaps we are better left for fairy tales.”
Right then, he remembered Galen’s similar words at Moon Flower after Oscar had embellished stories about Bellamy that’d cut too close. Perhaps Oscar had put all the clues together and guessed right. But Bellamy could never tell any of them the truth. He had to keep that part of himself hidden to protect them—and to protect himself too, though not in the way Ashwood was implying now. The only werewolves he’d come across were dangerous, and he wanted no part in it. In fact, he’d prefer to never come across another one again.
“In due time, I will tell you all you need to know,” his mother had said once when he’d pressed too hard, and her cryptic words troubled him now. Was that what she’d meant? That she’d finally tell him all about the wolves? Instead, he was left to guess or ask Madam Langley what she knew of the fantastical creatures.
His mother did seem hyperaware of animals, especially at night. Or was she only protecting him from whatever she’d planned to share with him in due time?
He wanted to growl in frustration. It wasn’t much to go on, but those details were all he had. And now…now he had someone in front of him who knew more, knew everything, but Bellamy wanted nothing to do with Ashwood. He was too stubborn to ask, and besides, what did it matter at this point—if he was dying?
But that was a lie. He did care, and it did matter, and it was hard not to force his vexation outward at the man he’d grown closest to since his mother died. The man his heart still panged for but could never trust again.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Bellamy asked bitterly. “I was caught unawares of what these feelings were, what was happening to my body when I came of age. And you, you obviously knew—”
The way he’d felt when he’d seen Ashwood shift to his wolf form…the white, fluffy fur on his neck, a stark difference to the others in his…what, pack? Had he sworn an oath to them? That made him shudder from fear as much as fascination. At the time, he’d stood frozen solid until he could get his feet to move, to run away as fast and as far as he could. He hadn’t laid eyes on Ashwood since, and to do so now was entirely too painful. He wished he could shred the part of his heart that still felt tenderness for him. Despite everything, Bellamy still ached for him.
“That’s simply not true. We—I wasn’t certain if you would ever become a wolf. It either runs in your blood or you are made by another,” he expounded, and Bellamy knew this was so only because Madam Fairborn had explained it to him.
Though it made no sense. There were no wolves in their family—his mother never mentioned anything even close to it—and he didn’t remember being made one, so to speak.
Ashwood continued, “But you don’t truly turn until you’re of age. Both of us were within that threshold of time, and I was waiting to see what might happen. I had a better chance of it coming to fruition than you.”
