Chapter 35
B enedict was in the Matherson kitchen, discussing menus with the chef, when Rosie and Emerson came in. Rosie was clearly upset, and he asked what was going on, half hoping it was Emerson himself. Rosie explained what was going on with the wolves.
Afraid Lucinda needed him, he rushed to the town square just in time to see the wolves leaving. Judging from the festival-goer sitting in an empty dunk tank and the soaking wet wolves, she’d got her element back. Maybe not under control, but back.
He waited until the wolves disappeared into the crowds in the direction of the woods. Lucinda ran her hands through her hair and turned in his direction. He offered her a small wave and a smile, and her tired, flat expression lifted. Benedict chuckled to himself; it wasn’t too long ago that his appearance had had the opposite effect on her.
Lucinda crossed the road to where he stood in front of the bakery and wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.
“I needed a hug,” she groaned, and he kissed the top of her head.
“Want to go home?”
“I’ve got to get back to the stall and make sure Rosie and Emerson are okay.”
On the way back to the toffee apple stall, Benedict listened intently as she explained what had happened. He felt so proud to call her his. The town had seen how she’d diffused the situation, and how she was going to make an excellent High Priestess. She led with her heart, which was the very thing Foxford needed in a leader to thrive. Like his heart, the town belonged to her.
“You shouldn’t have revealed your identity to them!” Rosie was snapping at Emerson when they reached the stand.
“I thought they would back off. I didn’t like the way they were looking at you,” Emerson said, taking cash from the next customer. There were only a few waiting, so hopefully they could all call it a night soon.
Benedict awkwardly cleared his throat as he and Lucinda walked right into the argument.
“I grew up with them, and of course they were suspicious of you. They’re suspicious of everyone who isn’t part of the pack. They wouldn’t have hurt me, but by opening your mouth you only escalated the situation!” Rosie hissed.
“You thought a group of wolves would respect your position with the Order? You’re lucky you kept that pretty face,” Benedict muttered, and Lucinda elbowed him the side. He hadn’t necessarily meant to speak aloud.
To his surprise, Emerson turned on him and shoved him, though Rosie quickly got between them.
Lucinda took Benedict’s hand, but he had no intention of striking the man. Lucinda had already diffused one situation tonight – he didn’t want to make it two.
“Don’t get upset. Exposing your position was ballsy. But our ancestors would roll over in their graves if they thought a werewolf needed protection from a human!” he quipped.
Emerson squared up to him, his jaw clenched tightly. So there is a fighter in him after all, Benedict thought.
“If they’d so much as touched me– her– this place would be swarming with Hunters in the morning,” the professor ground out, defending his stupid decision.
“How reassuring. I’m sure your girlfriend loves that you can click your fingers and bring Hunters down on the pack,” Benedict said, looking to Rosie, who didn’t look too comfortable with the thought.
“Don’t be an arsehole! I’d never call for Hunters. It was just a threat. We all know Alpha Beline wouldn’t want me reporting to the Order that her wolves were intimidating residents of Foxford or one of their members.” Emerson kept his voice level, but he couldn’t hide his frustration. Rosie, her anger fading, took Emerson’s hand. “I’m sorry, Benedict, but you aren’t in a position to judge my actions when you weren’t there.”
Both men continued to glare at each other, but Benedict conceded that he had a point. He knew Lucinda was able to handle herself, but if someone had threatened his wife – oops, he meant fiancée – in front of him, he’d probably burn them alive. Or at least singed them slightly.