Chapter 32
A t Matherson Manor, Benedict watched Lucinda remove two paper bags, a panel of vials and a notebook packed with spells and potions from the kitchenette in his quarters.
“How long have you been hiding this stuff in my kitchen?” She’d been coming and going for the last few weeks; she must have done it when he wasn’t paying attention.
“Since my mum ruined the first lot I gathered, and I figured keeping my translation notes here was a safe bet in case she found the research I’d been doing on the Hawthorne grimoire and wanted to stop us from using anything I found in there,” Lucinda explained, slipping off her heels while she arranged the ingredients on the counter. “Not that it matters now, because we’ve got the dragon venom. We can mix the powder with the restoring potion, and it should switch us back in no time.”
Benedict didn’t like how she shrugged when she said ‘should’; he wanted a bit more certainty before he consumed poison. Then again, with magic nothing was certain. Watching her scan her notes on the restoring potion from the grimoire, all he could do was put his trust in her.
“Your mum did what? Why didn’t you tell me?” He handed her a pot from beneath the kitchen sink, since he didn’t have a cauldron.
“I didn’t want you to think poorly of her. She was trying to protect both of us,” Lucinda said, taking out a glass jar containing blessed water from the coven temple.
“Is that why you wanted to do this here and not in the brewing room at yours? Because you’re avoiding Wilhelmina?” he pried, watching her simmer the water on the stove. Going against the High Priestess’s orders in her own home would only cause a bigger rift between mother and daughter. He hadn’t even thought the Hawthorne women could argue, and he didn’t like that he was partly the cause of it.
Watching Lucinda work, pride swelled in his chest as he saw how easily it came to her. Sure, he knew what he was doing with potions, but there was a dance in the way she sliced, chopped and measured out the ingredients that he’d never been able to master. The potion came together faster than he’d expected with a final puff of smoke. Once the boiling liquid had cooled, she filled two shot glasses from the cupboard with the finished potion.
“This should do the trick,” she told him, covering the remainder of the potion in the pot with a glass lid. “For you.” She offered him a shot glass.
“I suppose a Hawthorne potion got us into this mess, so it’s only right a Hawthorne potion will undo it,” Benedict said hesitantly, taking it. The liquid glowed midnight blue.
“We drink on three.”
He admired her courage. “Is it supposed to be that colour?”
“It’s just the powdered venom. Trust me.”
“One last question. We aren’t about to have a Romeo and Juliet moment, are we?” He winced, smelling the potion. It was sharp and pungent.
“Even if it kills us, I’m sure fate would find some way to bring us back together.” Lucinda winked, sitting on the kitchen island beside where he sat on the black barstool.
“Leaving our future up to fate doesn’t reassure me much.” He got up and stood between her legs; if he was going to be poisoned to death, then he wanted her eyes to be the last thing he saw. If there was one person he was willing to bet his life on, it was her.
“You drink this, and hopefully tomorrow when we wake up, you’ll have your fire back and I’ll be back to watering my flowers instead of scorching them.”
“And that’s all you’re worried about? Our elements?” Benedict asked, resting his free hand on her thigh. Her shoulders relaxed, and she settled her hand over his.
“We’ll also know if what’s happening between us is caused by the call in the potion or if our feelings for each other are real…” Lucinda stared up at him, confessing her insecurities.
“If this is what you need to be sure of my feelings for you, then I’m in.” He didn’t want her to doubt how much he had fallen for her for even a second longer.
“To us, then.” She clinked her glass against his, but her tightening grip on his hand revealed her nerves.
“To us.”
He tried not to laugh when Lucinda grimaced at the taste of the foul liquid, only to almost gag himself. A tense moment settled between them as they waited to turn green or stop breathing.
“Still alive,” Lucinda pointed out eventually. “Do you feel anything?”
“Try not to sound so surprised at the lack of our demise.” Benedict made a show of patting himself down and checked his pulse mockingly. “I don’t feel a thing.”
Lucinda took the empty glasses and dropped them into the empty sink along with the pot and remaining potion. She made the shattered glass and the pot disappear with a simple spell to erase what they’d done.
“Neat trick,” Benedict said, standing behind her to find his sink spotless.
“I hated doing the dishes when I was younger,” she admitted, turning to face him. “Pleased to see that you’re still gorgeous, and you haven’t sprouted wings or dropped dead.”
“I think there was a time when you’d have loved to see me drop dead.”
“Me? Never,” she said innocently.
“But I do think I need something to sweeten the aftertaste.” He took her in his arms, and she chuckled as he dipped her low and kissed her. Bringing her back up to standing, he smacked his lips. “Much better.”
She squirmed. “You’re intolerable.”
“Potion worked – you’re back to loathing me!” Even though he wanted his element back, he couldn’t imagine not being able to feel her presence every moment.
“You’re not getting rid of me that quickly. It’ll probably take some time to kick in.” Lucinda wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her back onto the counter.
“Good. Then we should use up what time we have left before we start despising each other,” he joked, sweeping her hair over her shoulder and watching as it switched back to its natural colour. “Pity; Matherson black looked good on you.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but the magic had to wear off at some point.” She searched his eyes for any hesitation, as if he was going to cast her aside. Potion or not, that was never going to happen. At least on his part. He could only hope the same was true for her.
“I wouldn’t change a thing about you,” Benedict said, squeezing her thighs, wrapped around him. He tucked a strand of chocolate-brown hair behind her ear. “You’ve always been perfect.”
Lucinda rolled her eyes. “We’ll both be back to perfect once our elements are back in their rightful places.”
Rightful places? He knew he was right where he was meant to be – with her, and he was tired of trying to separate himself from her.
“Be serious for a minute?” she asked, resting his hands on the back of his neck.
“Fine.” He put on his best grimace.
“Hand,” she ordered, and he set his between hers.
“I don’t think it’s going to work that fast.”
“Just try to summon your fire.”
Benedict closed his eyes and pictured a flame blooming in his palm. Nothing happened. He opened his eyes, and his heart stilled as he saw the sadness in her face.
“Let’s be patient. We don’t know what tomorrow will bring.” He tipped her chin up, wanting to absorb her anxiety.
“You’re right. I shouldn’t have pushed. They have to come back eventually. Or the coven will—” She cut herself off, smoothing her hands over his chest. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to comfort him or herself.
“Whether our elements swap back or disappear entirely, I don’t care. I don’t want you because of your element, or some find your perfect man spell your family cast, or because you’ll make an excellent High Priestess. I want you for you , now and forever, with or without the binding,” Benedict said, needing her to understand.
“That sounds awfully like a proposal.” Lucinda stared up at him, eyes wide with alarm.
“It is.”
She buried her face in her hands.
“You don’t need to hide from me.”Holding her hands, he wanted to kiss away the furrow in her brow.
“I want you to be sure,” she whispered. “What if we wake up tomorrow and it’s only the potion, and you regret saying all this?”
“My only regret is not realising how I felt sooner, not telling you how much I wanted to take you to that damn dance, not kissing you by the lake when you gave me Greko. If you agree to be my wife, then I won’t have any other. You bewitched me, body and soul, long before any spell or potion,” he said, searching her wide eyes for the answer he so desperately wanted. Needed . If she didn’t answer soon, his heart would surely stop, and it’d have nothing to do with dragon venom.
She hesitated. “Maybe we should wait until the morning? If your feelings—”
“Fuck the spell. I don’t care if you stole my teddy when you were three or beat me up when I was six or flooded my locker just to piss me off. That just makes you cuter, my little force of destruction. It’s always been you. If you weren’t so sure of the potion affecting me… what would you say?” Benedict closed the gap between them, his gaze pleading with hers.
Lucinda took a deep breath and rested her hands on his chest. He was sure she could feel his hammering heart.
“It could never have been anyone other than you, even if the potion had worked as intended. It still would’ve been you. I’d rather spend the rest of my life bickering with you than at peace with anyone else. I’ve never had to be perfect with you. I don’t have to be a Hawthorne– with you I’m just Lucinda,” she confessed, placing her hand on his cheek. The love in her touch overwhelmed his senses.
His lips crashed onto hers.
He growled as she sank into the kiss, and his grip on her tightened. His hand travelled into her hair, pulling her closer. She let out a small moan, which broke the intense spell.
Benedict eased his grip on her, a question in his gaze. “We don’t have to do anything until you’re sure. If you want to see what happens when we wake up tomorrow, if the potion changes anything for you…?”
Lucy leaned forward, kissing one cheek and then the other. “Let’s not think about tomorrow. I just want to be in the moment with you. I don’t need any potion or ritual to convince me that you’re my person, just as I’m yours.”
He pushed her further back on the counter, pressing his body close to hers so that there wasn’t an inch to spare between them.
“Are you sure?” He loved the hunger in her eyes.
“I’m tired of waiting,” she admitted. He wasn’t sure if it was his hands on her or the corset that was making her breathless.
“Thank fuck for that.”
His entire body hummed with need. For her. All the pent-up tension, fear, desperation and desire had led to this moment.
He needed her like he needed air, and her fevered kiss told him she felt the same way. Her soft moans were music to his ears. He was going to give her a night that would keep her coming back for more, make her body so high on his touch that she’d be ruined for anyone else.
She seems rushed. Like she thinks this might end. Like there’s a time limit on this. He pulled back slightly, needing to slow down. Her eyes travelled to his lips, full of pleading. Hearing her groan at the loss of contact made him regret pulling away.
“We don’t need to rush this. We have all night, and I want to savour every second.” His words were interspersed with kisses trailed along her neck.
Lucinda sucked in a breath as he nipped at her shoulder. “Fuck, Benedict.”
“I think you left out the ‘me’ in that sentence,” he murmured, licking the sore spot. Not giving her a moment of reprieve, not one moment to overthink. He only wanted her to feel.
“Yes please.”
Her words were nearly his undoing. It took every ounce of his self-control not to rip off her dress and bend her over the counter. He kissed her like his life depended on it, like there was no oxygen left and he was only sustained by the sweet taste of her mouth. Her arms curled around his neck as he yanked at the strings of her corset. He felt the smile on her lips when he had to turn her around thanks to a stubborn knot.
“You’re forbidden from wearing this damn thing again,” he rasped when it finally dropped to the floor.
“I promise.” She crossed her heart, but he took her hand and pinned it above her head, swallowing her moans as he brushed her dress from her shoulders and it pooled at their feet.
His breath caught when he saw her lingerie, black lace hugging her skin. She peered up at him through her dark lashes as if she’d planned this. Fuck, she never fails to surprise me. His kiss turned desperate as he lifted her into his arms, legs around his waist, and she gasped at the sudden movement. The giggle she gave as he dropped her onto his bed nearly killed him.
To have Lucinda Hawthorne laid out in front of him was the best gift he ever could have received. She watched him hungrily as he stripped off his shirt, then made fast work of his belt. He kissed her like it had been the only thing on his mind for years – because it had.
Sitting up, she dragged him down on top of her. Benedict nearly lost his balance. He caught himself on his elbows before crushing her, but from the look of disappointment in those gorgeous green eyes, that was exactly what she’d wanted. He kissed over her breasts, slipping off the lacy straps and releasing the clasp as her nipples hardened beneath his tongue. Lucy shivered.
“Benedict!” she cried out when he took her nipple between his teeth.
“I love hearing my name on your lips,” he whispered, smiling as she arched her back into his touch.
“Good, because you’ll be hearing it often,” she rasped, bucking her hips as he moved to the other. Her skin was so hot and smooth, he didn’t think he’d ever get enough of her.
“Good. You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear you call out my name as I fuck you.” He kissed down her stomach and hip bones, pulling her underwear down her legs. Softly, he ran the pads of his fingers over her. When she bit her lip to stop crom crying out, he knew he’d found her sensitive spot. His smile widened as he brushed over it and felt her muscles tighten, her hips rolling.
“Please.” She reached for his boxers and wrapped her fist around him.
The noise he made was downright primal. Nothing else mattered – no potion, no element, no binding ritual. Only the sensation and her mischievous smile. Desperate as he was, he refused to give in to his own release. He needed her first, all of her.
“Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to control myself much longer,” he groaned, pinning her hands to her side. He pressed his mouth back to hers, feeling her body tremble as he slid his fingers inside her.
“Then don’t.” He loved watching the tremors of pleasure taking took over her body, her thoughts, until all that existed for her was his touch. His heart pounded as her lips crashed back into his and he replaced his touch with the part of him she craved most. Her hands slid up over the back of his neck and into his hair, gripping tight as she moaned. A growl rolled from deep in his chest as he filled every inch of her. Lucinda arched her back, panting with need. The sheer ecstasy of her quivering around him made him lightheaded.
There was nothing gentle in their kisses. Teeth clashed, tongues twisted, and her hands gripped his hair, his shoulders, her nails dragging so ferociously down his back that he was sure he’d have marks tomorrow. She moaned and sighed against his lips, and with every thrust he felt her tightening around him. He was so damn close. He wanted to drag it out forever, but neither could wait that long. He thrust wildly as she dug her nails into his hips, pleading for more.
Her body took all he had to give, ruining him. Arms around each other, they rode wave after wave of sheer pleasure, not sure where one began and where the other ended.
It was impossible to say how many breathless moments passed before they found the ability to speak. Needing to know she was okay, that she didn’t regret it, forced Benedict out of the thought-shattering-sex trance. He rested on his elbow, tracing the tattoo between her shoulder blades.
“I don’t think I can survive another orgasm,” Lucinda murmured, moving closer to him. Her hair fanned across the pillow; he loved how at ease she was with him.
“I promise to give you all the time you need to regain your strength,” he said, kissing her shoulder. She smiled, but didn’t open her eyes.
“When did you get this?” His finger followed the lines of the tattoo over skin spattered with freckles.
He never wanted her to leave his bed. Fuck the coven. Fuck the town. He’d block up the door and keep them away from anything that could shatter this perfect moment.
“Twenty-first birthday. Me and Rosie went to Willow Valley to celebrate our graduation and her permanent residence being granted,” Lucinda explained, half-asleep.
“Why a new moon?”
“Start of a new phase. We graduated and started at the library. Making it our own.”
He kissed a freckle on her neck, unable to resist. “Rosie has one?”
This got a small chuckle out of her; clearly giving up on the idea of sleep – not that he was planning on letting her get any – she rested her forearms under her chin. “Hers only lasted until the next full moon. Once she shifted, her healing took over, and when she changed back to human form it was gone. She was so upset because it had been her idea in the first place. It meant more to her, since she’d come so far alone. I wanted to do it with her.”
Benedict pressed his lips against the crease between her brows.
“Doesn’t matter now. For her birthday, I managed to find another pack that made jewellery for wolves. I had a new moon chain designed. It’s enchanted to change shape as they do. It doesn’t break or strangle her when she shifts—”
She bolted upright, nearly knocking him off the side of the bed.
“What the—?” Benedict stammered as she pulled the blanket out from beneath him and scuffled out of the bedroom. “Lucinda!” He found her half-hearted attempt to conceal her modesty amusing. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen every inch of her already.
He followed her into the sitting area, jealous of whatever had stolen her attention.
“What was that?” he asked, playfully wrapping his arms round her as she rooted through her purse like a mad woman.
“I can’t give it to you if you don’t let go!”
“Maybe I don’t want it, then,” he said, trailing kisses along her neck. “There’s something I want much more.” Fuck, he didn’t think he’d ever not want her. He had always believed she’d be the death of him. Being in bed with her wrapped around him might not be the worst way to go.
“Benedict!”
Her stern voice caused him to surrender. She turned, struggling to keep the sheet from getting tangled around her legs, and he frowned, looking at the arm she held behind her back.
“I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner,” she began.
“You’re not about to stab me with a letter opener, are you?” He arched a brow, but made no attempt to protect himself.
Lucinda sat on the couch, dragging him along with her. “Close your eyes,” she ordered.
“If you’re going to kill me, I want you to be the last thing I see.”
“I’m not going to kill you. Now close your eyes.”
Benedict huffed and closed his eyes, blinking once or twice until a glare made him settle. Lucinda took his hand. When he didn’t resist, she rewarded him with a kiss – he smiled – and placed a small box in his hand. He frowned, studying it before opening the lid.
“This is—” Benedict choked on his words as he stared at the ring she’d put her heart into. He lifted it out of the suede cushion, admiring the stones in the meteorite band.
“Do you like it? I had Mr Mulligan match the stones. I know it’s tradition, but the sunstone and amethyst stones match mine – except they aren’t raised like mine, so your signet ring will fit over it nicely,” she rambled.
Without any hesitation, Benedict slid on the binding ring. Lucinda let out a sigh of relief as it slotted perfectly with the Matherson signet ring.
“There are no words to express how much I love you. If only I could be worthy of you.” Benedict found himself welling up, suddenly terrified of losing her as he’d lost so many. To see the ring his father had given him matched so perfectly with the other half of his heart – his family, and the love of his life… He’d never known he could feel so much love.
Lucinda settled onto his lap, distracting him from his tears.
“Is that a yes?” she asked, wiping a stray tear from his cheek.
“I thought I was the one proposing,” he sniffled through his laughter.
“I think it’s only fair. Equality and all that.” She smiled, clearly waiting for an answer.
“Our elements may never return, our ancestors may reject our desire to be together, but Lucinda Hawthorne, I swear in this life and the next. I am yours.” With each word he dotted her body with kisses while she squirmed to free herself.
“I think we should stay here forever,” she decided.
“In the Manor, or this moment?”
“Both, but I think we should stay close. These old manors can be awfully draughty.”
Benedict pressed his lips to the side of her head in agreement, silently vowing that they would never be parted.