Chapter 7
B enedict ran through the woods, failing to avoid the puddles. After being blindsided at the coven meeting, he desperately needed to clear his head, and running through the tall trees listening to the rain pattering against the leaves was his favourite way to escape. He didn’t care about the rain or filth – only about trying to escape the confines of town. His agreement to the proposed binding still rang in his ears. On the winding trails, it was just him and the lawless woods, and no one needed him to be or do anything.
What is Mum thinking, trying to pair Lucinda and me together? Stumbling to a halt, he rested his hands on his knees to catch his breath. He’d thought the proposal was a joke, but Gwendoline had ambushed him outside the temple before he could catch up with Lucinda. With the other coven members hovering close by, he couldn’t argue with his mother. He wished he’d taken more care to hide the magazine review; he’d only managed to calm her down about Lucinda’s prank because he’d promised it would amount to nothing. Banishment, a binding ritual, both, either – all far too extreme. However, if the coven wanted to make a point to the rest of the town, they’d certainly warned off any future incident that put Foxford at risk of outside criticism.
I could’ve refused to accept the nomination, but I said yes. Maybe I wanted to see Lucinda’s reaction. I’ve spent so long trying to get her to see me as more than a Matherson, someone without a tainted ancestry.
He had to admit it had felt good to have the High Priestess accept his nomination, even if he’d spent most of his life trying not to care what anyone thought of him. To know he was worthy of even a nomination was a recognition of all he’d done for Foxford. Still, he didn’t know how the vote would land. He didn’t want to leave Foxford, especially not everything he’d built, and he didn’t want his mum to be the last Matherson in town. She’d lost his brother and dad; he didn’t want her to have to lose anything else.
After all these years, he’d never expected his and Lucinda’s rivalry to come to this. To spend the rest of their lives together… he didn’t know if he’d survive her goody-two-shoes act, even if it delighted a twisted part of him to consider it. They’d both worked hard throughout school, maybe a bit too hard, in their attempts to get the other expelled. He enjoyed bringing out her recklessness more than he cared to admit, even if it was at his expense.
The battle lines had been drawn when he’d turned the Manor into a hotel, the only thing left to the Matherson name, and Lucinda had traded the school library for the vault. They’d kept to their territories, and incidents had grown few and far between. Tasting blood on his tongue, Benedict wished they’d called a truce before the coven had had to take such drastic action. Maybe they deserved to face the consequences.
When he stood straight, sparkles formed in his vision. He scolded himself for running on an empty stomach. He reached into his pocket to check for the bar he usually brought, but found nothing. As he started to walk back the way he’d come, the smell of burning plastic drifted around him. He sniffed the air to see what direction it was coming from. It was usual for people to light bonfires during the autumn equinox, but it was so wet tonight one wouldn’t be easy to light, and the smell was far too strong for a flame he couldn’t see.
Feeling something crispy in his hand, Benedict glanced down to find he’d burnt a hole in his pocket. He was the burning smell.
What the—? He patted down the singed edges, startled by the sudden loss of control over his element. His fire magic always acted up whenever his emotions were heightened.
He decided to return home before he set anything else on fire. Thankfully, Lucinda wasn’t here to see the mishap; she’d have loved to see him lose control.
He’d started back down the trail when, as if his thoughts had brought her to life, Lucinda appeared on the trail. Now I’m imagining things. Great.
“Lucinda?” he called, narrowing his eyes. She seemed to be swaying.
Benedict walked towards her, needing to make sure it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him. A branch cracked under his foot, and the startled figure darted into the shadows of the trees and disappeared.
I’ve lost my mind. I should’ve known it would be her to send me over the edge. She wasn’t his to worry about; anyway, he wasn’t even sure it had been her. It was the last moon of summer: many would be in the woods, doing gods knew what. Most activities were kept to the lake at the other end of the woods, where the gap between woods and town was smallest and safest.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling he was being watched as he walked down the trail. If it was Lucinda, he couldn’t blame her for wanting to blow off steam after the evening they’d had.
He only made it a few feet when she jumped out from behind a tree with a mocking roar.
“I could’ve hurt you!” he snapped. He’d already lost control of his fire once this evening.
She dropped her hands to her sides, giggling as she circled him.
“What are you doing out here so late? Are you alright?” he asked, as she stopped to hug a tree.
“Why wouldn’t I be fine? Nature will always protect me!” She sounded far more relaxed than normal. It wasn’t that she was uptight, but she certainly wasn’t going around hugging trees most days. Benedict’s concern amplified when he realised she was in her underwear.
“Where the hell are your clothes?” He turned away, fearing she’d disappear. The idea of others seeing her in her underwear troubled him more than he cared to admit.
“I was swimming! And I didn’t want anything to separate me from all the glorious nature,” she told him. “There is no shame in my natural state.” She spun him around; her skin, glistening with droplets, and soaking wet hair confirmed her story.
“It’s not safe to be out here alone, especially half-naked!” he grumbled, shrugging off his raincoat. Even with twigs in her hair and her fringe a damp mess at the sides of her face, her natural beauty remained.
“Don’t be such a downer, Benny. I’m not alone. You should join me. It’s such a beautiful night!” Her smile brightened her eyes, and he realised she wasn’t wearing her glasses. He hoped she was wearing contacts, because he wasn’t going searching for them.
“Benny?” he muttered, running his hands over his face. There was no way she was in her right mind. She couldn’t get away from him fast enough after the coven meeting, and now she was calling him Benny? “You think that now, but when you wake up tomorrow you might not be too happy with me having seen your… natural state.” He turned her around so she’d stop looking up at him with those big green eyes.
“I think we have far more important things to worry about than you seeing me like this,” she grumbled, with her back to him.
He was too distracted by the tattoo between her shoulder blades, a crescent moon, to register her words. She’s always had a thing for piercings, but the tattoo was a surprise. It suited her– delicate in detail, yet a force of nature.
“Have you taken anything?” he asked, trying not to spook her as he slowly approached with the raincoat to protect her modesty. She didn’t seem to notice, too busy petting the tree bark. He wondered how many splinters she was going to wake up with tomorrow. It wasn’t odd for those frolicking to forgo their clothes, but she wasn’t the type to throw caution to the wind.
“Just some tea that Luisa got from a witch overseas. Tastes awful, but very soothing. Even Rosie said it was all right if you held your breath while you drank it.” Her eyes were watery, and the whites seemed brighter.
“I should’ve known Luisa would be involved,” he muttered. Lucinda’s old school friend had been suspended for selling all types of relaxing goodies in their senior year. “You do seem very… relaxed, but I think that tea must have had mushrooms or something else in it to help loosen your inhibitions.” She’d never call him Benny, or ask him to join anything if she wasn’t under something’s influence.
She beamed at him. “Trees have so many stories to tell. I can almost hear them.”
“Yes, trees are wonderful. How about you just put this on?” He held the jacket out to her, averting his gaze.
She took the raincoat, only to hug the fabric to her skin. “Smells so good,” she breathed.
Benedict tried and failed to suppress a chuckle. He hoped she’d remember this in the morning.
“That would be my sweat,” he said, trying to keep a straight face. S he might not remember this, but I will. I’ll cherish this forever. “Where are Rosie and Luisa? I doubt they’re happy about you running off.”
“They’re still at the lake!” Thankfully, she didn’t protest as he helped her into the raincoat and zipped it up. The tea must be keeping her warm; it was cold tonight, and though her lips were paler than usual, she gave no sign of feeling chilly.
“Why did you leave them?” He wanted to make sure the others were okay and nothing had scared Lucinda into running off. She didn’t seem frightened, but on Luisa’s tea, anything could happen. He’d fallen victim to her tea himself after his college graduation. He’d woken up on a beach miles from home. Unlike Lucinda, he’d thankfully kept his clothes on, although he had been wearing someone else’s shoes.
“Fireflies,” she said, like it was the most rational explanation in the world.
He couldn’t exactly ask for her phone, considering her current state, and he doubted the others would even answer if they were in a similar state.“How about you come with me? We can look for fireflies together.”
He didn’t want to leave her alone so far from her friends. If she had wandered away from them once, he didn’t trust her not to do it again, and he didn’t fancy returning her to the lake in her current state either. The coven had already questioned their actions; if they were seen like this, it would only work against them.
Running a hand through his damp hair, he waited while she pulled the long sleeves over her hands. The raincoat only covered the tops of her thighs, so perhaps it was a good thing the tea was keeping her warm. He wished she’d left her shoes on. He didn’t like to think of the rough ground cutting up her feet.
“Do you know where we can find some?” Lucinda asked, wide-eyed. “I thought I saw them, but they were just the street lights.” He had to scrub the smile from his face at the genuine disappointment in her tone.
“I even know where we can see a giant firefly.” Benedict tried to sound convincing. Her eyes widened, revealing her dilated pupils. I can’t believe Rosie let her wander off! She should’ve tracked her down before she got this far from the group. He didn’t have time to be angry now; he needed to get her somewhere warm and safe.
“Lead the way.” Lucinda smiled, offering him her hand. He stared at it, but she rolled her eyes. “We don’t want to lose each other.” She threaded her fingers through his, swinging their arms back and forth.
Please let her remember this in the morning. He took her hand, and she wrapped herself around his arm.
“Stay close and you won’t be disappointed,” he promised, leading her away from the woods to Matherson Manor. He couldn’t bring her back to Hawthorne House like this, but there were plenty of spare rooms in the Manor.
“Wait a second! This is the way to the Manor! You don’t have fireflies!” Lucinda huffed, tugging on his hand as Benedict opened the tall back gate shrouded in green vines.
“Trust me,” he said, gently giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. The hedgerows separating his property from the woods meant no one used this entrance, sparing them both from being the topic of tomorrow’s gossip.
“Promise?” Her eyes narrowed, taking in the gardens as though they might swallow her up. She’d never follow him sober, but he hoped this version of her would trust him.
She studied him for a few seconds before letting him lead. Once inside, he sealed the gate to make sure she couldn’t run back to the woods. He didn’t want to spend the rest of his night tracking her down. The only small mercy was the drizzle had dried up and the clouds had cleared overhead, giving him some hope that his plan would work.
“Promise.” Benedict pressed a finger to his lips, and she mimicked the gesture. “We have to be quiet – we don’t want to wake the guests,” he whispered, even though there was no chance of them being heard this far from the guest quarters. Whether their binding was a political matter or not, if they were caught spending the night together and sneaking around it would be like confirming they were in a relationship.
“Shh,” Lucinda agreed, and giggled.
Walking through the wine cellar, Benedict opened one of the older doors so they could sneak through the old servants’ passageways without being seen by the night staff. Unfortunately, he’d never thought to put lighting in the old passageway.
“I can’t see anything,” Lucinda whispered, crushing his hand in hers.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” he asked, not wanting her to freak out.
“Always.”
He didn’t want to read any more into that. “Let there be light,” he said, clicking his fingers to try and start a fire in his palm. Much to his dismay, it took more than a few tries to spark a flame.
“There are so many cobwebs. I don’t like spiders,” Lucinda whispered, gripping his hand tighter. Panic edged her voice.
A ball of fire finally shone from his palm.“I’m sure the spiders are sleeping,” he lied, not being a fan of them himself.
“This doesn’t seem safe.” Lucinda eyed the elevator, which was older than both of them combined. She took a tentative step back, but he didn’t release her hand.
“Because running naked through the woods, where there are all manner of creatures, is far safer,” he muttered. “Don’t worry, it’s been well serviced. This is the old escape route if the manor was ever invaded. This is the last step, and you did make me promise. Don’t make me break it.”
Lucinda swallowed, but stepped inside. The iron shaft creaked under their combined weight as it rose, and the rusty smell revealed just how old it was.
“I can’t give you fireflies, but I hope you’ll accept the stars,” Benedict said, opening the grate to the rooftop pool area. The loungers would be a little damp from the rain. Hopefully she wouldn’t notice.
“This is everything! How’ve I never been up here?” She hurried out, dragging him behind her. It took all his will not to smile at how easily pleased she was, all thought of the creepy elevator gone in an instant as he carefully directed her around the pool. It was covered, but that could be even more dangerous, and he didn’t fancy going in after her.
Thankfully, she didn’t notice the water. She let go of his hand and hurried to the edge of the roof. With the old battlements, there was no worry of her going over.
“Your desire to stay as far away from me as possible probably had something to do with it,” he said, nervously watching her leaning over the wall. His jacket rose higher on her pale thighs and he diverted his gaze, only to see how dirty her feet were. All thoughts of her bare skin disappeared, replaced with the worry that she might have cut herself during the run in the woods.
From behind the closed bar beside the sun loungers, he filled a jug with warm water and carried it over to a sun lounger. While she was distracted by the stars and the views of the woods, he grabbed some towels and the first aid kit for her feet. He didn’t want the binding to fall through because she died of sepsis. If one of them had to leave Foxford, he didn’t want it to be in a coffin.
“Such a pity that Matherson Manor comes with Mathersons.” Lucinda covered a shallow yawn before plonking herself down on the lounger beside the towels.
“I’m afraid it can’t be helped.” Benedict covered her legs with a towel, trying to keep her warm, as she kept her gaze tipped towards the stars. So far from the city and high above their village, there was nothing to hinder the starlight.Her mood seemed to have mellowed out, so he could relax about her trying to run off.
Suddenly, she reclaimed his hand and brought it to her chest. “We aren’t fighting,” she mused, tracing her fingers over the exposed part of his ivy tattoo that travelled from his hand and over his shoulders. It was the same ivy that coated the walls of the manor he’d known all his life.
“Don’t worry. I’m sure normal service will resume once you’ve sobered up,” he said, pouring warm water on a clean towel.
“How exhausting,” she groaned, collapsing back on the lounger. He knelt by her feet, and she sat up on her elbows, frowning. “Are you proposing?” She laughed.
“No, I need to clean the muck off your feet to make sure you haven’t cut yourself,” he explained, trying to keep her legs still as he balanced them on his lap.
“Pity.”
He stared at her.
“It would’ve been nice to be proposed to properly, now I’m stuck with you.”
The sadness in her voice tightened his heart. She was right. They’d both missed out on a special moment because of the coven’s proposal. She probably wanted to be proposed to with some grand gesture by someone she loved and who loved her in return. He’d never really given it much thought; he’d hoped one day he would have someone who’d accept him and his family name without shame. Someone who would be proud to stand by his side.
“I’m flattered by your sacrifice,” he said, trying not to sound irritated. She was high; he couldn’t hold her accountable for what she said under the influence of Luisa’s tea.
“You should be, but we’re in the same boat – you’re stuck with me,” she chuckled. “It could be worse, though.”
“How?”
She shrugged. “We know each other. What if we’d been bound to strangers?” How like a Hawthorne to find the silver lining in her punishment. “I know everything about you.”
She yawned and stopped squirming for a second while he cleaned her foot. By some miracle he found no cuts or abrasions.
“That tickles.” Lucinda wriggled her toes. He moved to the other foot before she could take it away.
“You don’t know everything,” he said, trying to distract her.
“You love pumpkins, hate snakes, love lizards.” She counted the facts on her fingers. “You’re terrible at geography and can’t swim, which is crazy, since you’ve got a freaking pool.”
He wanted to explain that fire and water didn’t mix, but he didn’t want to ruin the longest conversation they’d ever had without arguing.
“You’ve got a birthmark on your calf that kind of looks like a skull. You’re afraid of needles and cried when we got our injections at school for werewolf flu, which makes no sense, since you have tattoos.”
“Okay, I get the picture, you know me.” Benedict held up his hands defensively before she got to anything embarrassing. Then he glanced at his birthmark. He’d never considered that it looked like a skull, but now that she’d said it, he couldn’t unsee it. He wondered what else she had noticed about him.
“You probably don’t know half as much about me,” she said, reaching for the sky.
“Just focus on the stars,” he said, carefully checking her second foot.
“Far better than fireflies,” she mused.
“The stars appear brightest here because this is the highest point in Foxford, except for the bell tower in the town hall,” he explained. Incredibly, it seemed both her feet were uninjured in spite of the evening’s escapades.
“I’d be up here every night if I could. I’m surprised there are no guests up here,” she said, tucking her feet under herself. Benedict sat on the lounger beside her, exhausted. He stared up at the stars she was attempting to trace with her fingers.
“They aren’t allowed up here after midnight. I come up when I can, to enjoy the peace,” he admitted, wondering again if she’d remember any of this tomorrow.
“I’m jealous,” she sighed. He glanced at her to see her eyelids growing heavy. “You escape to the sky and I to the underground. Grams was right when she called us opposites.”
Benedict arched his brows, wondering what else had been said about him. He had a soft spot for Lucinda’s grandmother. She’d been there for him when his father was tried for assisted death by magic, and never judged him for the actions of those related to him.
“Come here whenever you like. Just come through the way I showed you. The guests or the staff won’t even notice,” he said, resting an arm under his head. “It’s nice not arguing with you; maybe we can make it a regular thing, now that we’re to be bound. If we’d made peace earlier, we’d have saved ourselves all this hassle. We could tell them we’ve changed our minds?”
He held his breath, waiting for her to defend herself or accuse him of trying to trick her into backing out. However, his words went unanswered. Turning to see if she was considering it, Benedict found her sleeping peacefully, one of the fluffy white towels tucked under her head. With a sigh of relief, exhaustion overcame him, and he laid his head beside hers.
Up close, he admired her freckles, her long lashes, and wondered how the hell they were going to navigate the next month. He brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, and her eyes fluttered open.
He stilled, but she reached out to him. Her fingers gently traced his ear, his cheekbone, his jaw while he watched the stars, afraid to move an inch in case she stopped her exploration.
“How can you be so beautiful?” she said, sitting up on her elbow. He turned his head slightly to watch her.
“I really need to get the recipe for that tea,” he said, wondering what she was up to.
“You know you’re handsome, don’t be modest. Every woman in town wants to fuck you,” Lucinda informed him, settling against his chest.
“Christ, pumpkin.” He did not want to think about fucking with her so close. He swallowed, trying not to think about how her body fitted against his.
She smiled and kissed his shoulder, and he clenched his jaw, not understanding how such a small gesture could stir a hunger in him he hadn’t known existed. Her lips grazed his cheek, inching closer to his lips. This wasn’t why he’d brought her here. He’d wanted to protect her and he would, even if that meant from herself and the desire coiling inside him.
Benedict turned away. Lucy sat up, her frown making it clear she was startled by his rejection. She clung to his back, stopping him from standing up.
“I’m sorry, it’s the tea,” she pleaded. “Don’t go.”
He looked over his shoulder, hating how embarrassed she looked.
“You wouldn’t be saying or acting this way, if you weren’t under the influence,” he said, pointing out the obvious.
“I’m hardly under the influence. I know who I am and who I’m with.” She placed her hand on his chest. “You’re Benedict, I’m Lucy we are sitting on the top of the Manor. I wanted to kiss you.” She stared up at him, her eyes drifting to his lips.
He shook his head, resting his hand over hers. “You don’t know what you’re saying. It’s the tea speaking.”
“Do you not want to kiss me? Am I not good enough for you? Oh God, you’re forced to marry me and now I’ve forced myself on you!” She buried her face in her hands.
Benedict turned to face her. “There isn’t a man alive who wouldn’t want to kiss you,” he said, tilting her chin up to face him. He never wanted to hear her say that she wasn’t good enough ever again.
“Then kiss me.”
“You hate me.”
“What does that have to do anything?” she asked softly, inching closer to him. Her hand drifted from his arm to his shoulder. He knew he should get up and walk away, but as she cupped his cheek he couldn’t.
“You’ll hate me.”
“I thought we already established that I do,” she said, resting her forehead against his.
“I should take you home.”
“You should shut up and kiss me.”
The desire in her words was his undoing. A low groan slipped through his lips; her eyes shifted to meet his. That was all it took.
Benedict’s lips crashed against hers, hand gripping the back of her neck. No kiss had ever tasted as good as hers. Her soft lips were now his favourite drug. A moan escaped her as she parted them, letting him explore. He took everything she was willing to give as her hands travelled from his chest and slipped into his hair, pulling him closer; he smiled against her lips.
As if she couldn’t get enough, Lucinda moved onto his lap, wrapping her legs around him. Their bodies pressed together. They’d barely started, and he was already painfully hard beneath her. He couldn’t believe how desperately he wanted more, like he’d been starving his whole life and she was his favourite meal. Part of him hated himself for not stopping her as she slipped her hands under his T-shirt, exploring the planes of his back – she wasn’t in her right mind. And he would stop her, but right now, he was going to kiss her, hold her, like this kiss would be their last.
His hand began to slide up her thigh. A whimper slipped up her throat, and she began to rock against him. He wanted to please her, to be the one to make her feel an ecstasy she’d never forget, but when he opened his eyes, he was reminded of how they’d got there. He refused to get carried away. Easing her off and away from him was easily one of the most painful things he’d ever had to do.
Lucinda wrapped her arms around him, tucking her legs beneath her. “I’m sorry, I got carried away.”
“You’ve nothing to be sorry about.” He grabbed handfuls of his hair, trying to distract himself from the way his body ached at the loss of her touch. “But we need to stop,” he pleaded with his conscience.
“Why? It’s not like this is real.” She smiled teasingly.
Benedict bolted upright to find Lucinda sleeping peacefully, curled into him for warmth. He sank back on the lounger, resting a hand on his forehead, trying to push out the memories of the all-too-real dream.
Lucinda snuggled closer, distracting him. He had to get her inside before she froze; he’d forgotten she didn’t have his element to keep her warm out here.
Careful not to wake her, Benedict carried her to his private wing so she wouldn’t be disturbed by housekeeping. She needed to sleep off Luisa’s tea, and he didn’t want her disturbed by those who rose early for breakfast. He told himself it was her closeness, the smell of her strawberry shampoo, that had caused the dream.
Laying her down on his poster bed, he pulled the midnight-blue velvet comforter over her to keep her warm. She curled into it, tucking it under her chin.
If someone had told him hours ago that he’d have a Hawthorne in his bed, he would’ve accused them of drinking Luisa’s tea. At least here she’d be safe. He didn’t want the coven to penalise her for her night of freedom, and since she lived with the High Priestess, there was no way she’d have been able to hide it.
Benedict lit the fire in the corner of the room to ensure she was cosy after being out in the cold rain, then sat in the armchair and watched the flames. He needed her well rested. Tomorrow, they’d have plenty to talk about.