Chapter 28
Brigid
The pencil moves across the page, capturing the curve of Callen's smirk, Tiernan's serious expression, Rory's wide grin, Lochan's hostile stare marring his perfect features. And then there’s Marius—his eyes enigmatic and taunting. I toss the sketchbook aside and flop back on my bed.
At least the visions have stopped.
No more nightmares or headaches and near blackouts. Just the constant churning anxiety in my gut and a feeling that I’m just as tormented without them as I was with them. I’ve been avoiding everyone, even Eira, but I’m fairly certain I won’t be able to get away with skipping class tomorrow, considering how close we are to the Harrowing.
My stomach growls, reminding me it's been hours since I last ate. I’ve been sneaking down to grab food and bring it back to my room early in the morning. It's pathetic, scurrying around like a rat, but it's better than running into anyone.
Tiernan and Rory had come looking for me like I’d expected, but I’d ignored them.
"Brigid? You in there?" Rory's lilting accent had drifted through the wood. “Just wanted to check if you're alright."
I’d held my breath, willing them to go away. After a moment, their footsteps had retreated down the hall.
Guilt gnaws at me. Rory and Tiernan don't deserve the silent treatment. Neither does Eira, or even if I’m honest, Callen. But I can't face their concern, their questions. It's easier to hide. I’ve always been better at pushing people away than getting close to them. Why would that change now? I’m still me, right?
I curl onto my side, hugging my knees to my chest. This can't go on forever. But I’m familiar with this. I’m good at being alone. For now, the solitude is a cold comfort. At least alone, I can't hurt anyone. And no one can hurt me.
But this room is getting stuffy, and I need some fresh air to clear my head. My eyes dart to the window, measuring the fading light. It's almost dark—everyone should be at dinner by now. Less chance of running into anyone.
I slip on my old worn sneakers, not bothering to change out of my sweater and jeans from my life ‘before’. Who's going to see me, anyway? Easing the door open, I peek into the hallway. Empty.
I descend swiftly, sticking to the walls. The massive doors of Grimstone loom before me. I push one open just enough to squeeze through. Cool night air hits my face and I inhale deeply. I walk down the steps and around to the side, towards the grounds.
A garden stretches out, bathed in silvery moonlight. Roses nod drowsily, their perfume heavy in the air. It’s too late for roses, for any flowers really, but this place is immune to the laws of nature. In the distance, the wind in the leaves sounds like whispering.
I feel better out here, away from prying questions and side eyes. Walking among the flowers and the shrubs I can almost pretend I'm back in my little cottage garden. Almost .
The moon rises higher, casting long shadows across the perfectly manicured hedges. I wander deeper into the garden, my fingers trailing along their leaves. The air is scented with roses, bayberry and juniper, and it quiets my mind.
Paying more attention to the moon than my own two feet, I stumble over an exposed root. My hand scrapes against rough bark as I break my fall on a nearby tree. The pain is sharp, but it’s grounding too, reminding me that I'm still here, still real in this dreamlike place.
As I round a bend in the path, I stop. Rory is slumped on a stone bench, his usual smile no where to be seen. His broad shoulders are hunched, golden hair falling forward to hide his face. My heart clenches. I've never seen him look anything other than happy and full of life.
I should leave. But my feet won't move.
Rory looks up, his brown eyes staring into mine. The sadness there tugs at something deep inside me.
Fuck. I can't just walk away now.
"Hey," I say softly.
"Brigid." His voice is rough. "Didn't expect to see you out here."
I shrug, perching on the far end of the bench. "Needed some air."
Rory nods, then asks, "Why've you been avoiding us?"
My throat tightens, and I pick at a loose thread. "It's... a lot. Everything. I needed space."
"Fair enough," he says.
We sit in silence. The moonlight illuminates his profile, highlighting the strong line of his jaw. He's beautiful, even now. Especially now, with his walls down.
My fingers itch to touch him, to smooth away the furrow between his brows. I curl them into fists instead.
"You okay?" I ask finally.
Rory's laugh is hollow. "Grand. Fucking spectacular."
I raise an eyebrow. "Bullshit."
Rory's shoulders fall. "Yeah."
“Tell me?” I want to reach out and touch his hand. “If you want to, I mean.” I glance down at my hands, clasped in my lap.
“Some days are just hard, y’know?”
I nod.
“It’s just me now. I had a family. They’re gone. They—”
His words trail off, but I understand. My chest aches for him. "I'm so sorry, Rory."
He nods, swallowing hard. "They were hunted. All of them. My parents, my siblings. I was the only one who..." His voice breaks. “I miss them. And without them, I have to figure it all out on my own now.” He turns to look at me. “You know?”
I nod and reach out without thinking, laying my hand on his arm. His skin is warm beneath my fingers and I feel that strange tug that comes straight from my heart.
"I never knew my birth parents," I say softly. "And the couple who adopted me... they died when I was five. Accident. I don’t know why I survived." I remember something Uncle John said to me once after too many pints at the pub— why you?
Rory's eyes meet mine, a flicker of recognition passing between us. He covers my hand with his own, rough calluses against my skin.
"Shite. That's awful, Brigid. I'm sorry."
I shrug, trying to ignore the warmth spreading through me at his touch. "It was a long time ago."
"Doesn't make it hurt any less though, does it?"
His words hit home, and I feel tears prickling at the corners of my eyes. I blink them away furiously.
"No," I whisper. "It doesn't."
Rory shifts closer, his thigh pressing against mine. "How'd you cope? After..."
I let out a bitter laugh. "Badly. My uncle and his wife took me in, but they... they didn't want me. I was just a burden."
"Fuckers," Rory growls.
His anger on my behalf sends a jolt through me.
"Yeah," I agree. "What about you? After your family..."
Rory's jaw clenches. "I ran. For years. Kept moving, never staying in one place too long. Until I found Grimstone."
"And the guys," I murmur.
He nods. "Yeah. Exactly."
We sit in silence for a moment, the weight of our shared pain hanging between us. But it doesn't feel heavy. It feels... connecting. Like a thread binding us together.
Rory's thumb strokes over my knuckles, sending shivers down my spine. "You're not alone anymore, Brigid," he says softly. "You know that, right?"
I look up at him, my heart pounding. His eyes are darker, and I can feel the heat radiating off his body.
The moon rises higher, full and bright, bathing us in an delicate glow. Rory suddenly tenses, his grip on my hand tightening painfully.
"Fuck," he hisses, eyes widening. "I lost track of time. Brigid, you need to go. Now."
I frown, confusion warring with concern. "What's wrong?"
Rory's breathing grows ragged, his muscles rippling beneath his shirt. "The moon. I can feel the shift coming. I'm not... I can't control it yet. My family would have taught me—"
Realization dawns, and fear floods my veins. But I can't move, can't tear my eyes away from Rory's anguished face.
"Please," he begs, voice strained. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm not in control, the moon is. You need to run."
My heart races, my head screaming at me to flee. But something deeper, something instinctual, keeps me rooted to the spot.
"Brigid!" Rory growls, his eyes flashing amber. "Go!"
I should leave. I know I should. But the thought of abandoning Rory, of leaving him to face this alone...
Rory lets out a strangled sound, half-groan, half-howl. His body shudders violently, and I can feel the beast within fighting to break free.
I watch in horror as Rory's body contorts. His face twists in agony.
"Run!" he roars, voice deepening to an inhuman growl.
Panic floods my system, but I can't leave him. Not like this. Something snaps inside me. A surge of power, dark and electric, rushes through my veins.
Without thinking, I reach out and grab Rory's arm. Shadows erupt from my fingertips, enveloping us both in a cocoon of inky blackness. The air sizzles with energy, making the hairs on my arms stand on end.
Rory's transformation halts abruptly. His eyes, wide with shock, meet mine.
"What the fuck?" he whispers, staring at his still-human hands.
I can hardly believe it myself. The shadows pulse around us, alive and throbbing with potential.
"I... I don't know," I stammer. "Are you okay?"
Rory nods slowly, amazement and relief battling for dominance on his face. "I can feel it – the wolf. But it's... it’s calm. How did you do that?"
Marius' words echo in my mind: salvation or destruction.
I look into Rory's brown eyes, and I can barely breathe. His hand finds mine, fingers intertwining. The contact sends a jolt through me.
"You're incredible, Brigid," he murmurs.
A nervous laugh escapes me. "Says the werewolf."
Rory grins, that infectious smile lighting up his face. It’s a relief to see it again. "Aye, but I'm just a big furry lug. You've got real power."
His thumb traces circles on my palm. The simple touch ignites something deep within me.
"I'm scared of it," I admit.
Rory's other hand grazes my cheek. "Don't be. It's part of you. Same as my wolf."
Our faces are so close now. I can feel the warmth of his breath, smell the scent of his skin, woodsy and comforting.
"You're not scared of me?" I whisper.
"No more than you are of me, love.”
And then his lips are on mine.
The kiss is gentle at first, tentative. But as Rory pulls me closer, it deepens, becoming hungry and desperate. My fingers tangle in his blond hair as his tongue explores my mouth.
I moan softly, pressing my body against his. Rory's hands roam over my back, leaving trails of fire in their wake.
He breaks the kiss, panting. "Gods, Brigid. You're driving me mad."
"Good," I growl, nipping at his lower lip.
Rory groans, his hands gripping my hips. In one swift motion, he lays his jacket on the grass and lowers me onto it.
"You're so fucking beautiful," he breathes, fingers tracing the curve of my cheek. He leans on one elbow while his hand skims over one of my breasts, pausing as he feels the hardening nipple. He makes light circles with his palm over the bud.
I arch up, seeking his touch. Wanting more.
He pushes my t-shirt up over my bra, then flicks open the clasp in the middle. The motion releases my constrained breasts as they ache to be touched, nipples pointing in the chill of the night air. Rory pushes one full breast up to meet his mouth, the heat of his tongue and lips making me gasp as they close around my nipple. He sucks hard, and I feel the pull all the way in my center. The other breast is given the same attention as his hand pinches my nipple.
It’s agony. It’s ecstasy. I tangle my hands in his hair, cradling him to my chest.
Rory kisses his way down to my stomach. I self-consciously try to cross my arms over this place on my body that I’m most insecure about, but he pushes me away with a growl that makes me melt inside. His hands slide down to my waist, unbuttoning then tugging at my jeans. I lift my hips, helping him pull them off.
The cool night air hits my exposed skin. Rory's eyes darken as he takes in the sight of me.
"You are amazing," he growls, voice husky with desire.
I can’t meet his eyes and look away.
“Look at me, Brigid,” he commands. “Sit up.”
I obey, bracing myself on my elbows, watching as he spreads my knees wide and he looks his fill.
I watch as his eyes darken with want. That this man truly wants me, I can have no doubt.
His head dips between my thighs. At the first touch of his tongue on my clit, I moan, fingers digging into the earth.
Rory licks and sucks. When he slides a first finger inside me, then adds a delicious stretch with a second finger, I nearly come undone.
I watch as his tongue laps at my clit and his fingers disappear inside of me. His eyes are filled with desire and hunger as he looks up at me, intensifying the experience.
I can hear the wet sounds of his mouth and fingers working together, driving me closer and closer to the edge. His sucking is accompanied by my soft moans and his low growls of pleasure, the only sounds in the quiet night air.
I feel my muscles tightening with pleasure "Rory," I gasp. "I'm going to—“
"Let go, love," he murmurs against my flesh. "I've got you."
His fingers curl, hitting just the right spot, and I shatter. Waves of pleasure crash over me as I climax, trembling and crying out his name.
As the aftershocks subside, I open my eyes to find Rory watching me with a mix of awe and hunger.
"That was..." I trail off, still catching my breath.
Rory grins. "Just the beginning."
My answer is to pull him down for another searing kiss.
He comes to me and we lie entangled beneath the stars, our breaths mingling in the night.
"I can't believe I just did that," I say, my cheeks flushing.
Rory chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "I'm damn glad we did."
The moment is bittersweet, a reminder that all the complications still wait for me when we leave this moment. Rory's hand finds mine, our fingers laced together.
"I'll take what I can get, eh?" he says, as if reading my mind.
The night air is colder, but for now, we're warm enough.