Chapter Thirty-Two
THIRTY-TWO
“—S o I’ll be back in a few days,” Ben told Gigi over the phone. He’d explained the upcoming trip to find Isobel and hopefully break the binding spell.
He felt guilty about backing out of his Logistics Manager duties while Gigi was so stressed, but this was more important. Learning Eleonore would end up with Isobel again if something were to happen to Ben had only added more urgency to their quest.
“A few days?” Gigi asked. “Ben, the election is next Tuesday!”
He was well aware. It was Friday morning, and with a prolonged day’s driving, they’d hit Fable Farms for lunch and reach Griffin’s Nest to spend the night. Saturday morning they’d drive a few hours more to confront Isobel, having presumably come up with a brilliant plan on the way, and if they finished that up quickly…“We might be back Sunday, if everything goes well.”
A big if . Eleonore had switched into mission mode, abandoning uncertainty and declaring everything would be fine and she’d know what to do when they got there, but Ben wasn’t able to discard his worries so easily.
“But there are rallies tonight and Sunday, and tonight’s venue just backed out. So did the band and catering.” Gigi sounded near tears. “They apparently got a tip I’m planning to bargain with a demon to win the election. Cynthia has to be behind it, but what do I do?”
Eleonore passed Ben on the way to the car, carrying the travel bag that had previously held his werewolf full moon kit. She gave him a questioning look. He winced and pointed to the phone.
Losing a venue was a big deal, and he could recognize when someone else was anxiety-spiraling. Gigi might not have the day-to-day struggles he did, but this was an acute situation. His temples were throbbing and a sick fear had been balled up in his gut since the conversation with Alzapraz, but what did it matter what he felt? He could help both Eleonore and Gigi if he focused.
Ben took a deep breath and started strategizing. “If you move the start time to eight p.m., you can have the Annex tonight.” He grabbed a notepad and started jotting down ideas. “For entertainment there’s a werewolf in the Fable Farms pack with a ska band. Or maybe we can try Gabriel. What’s his folk band called again…?” He snapped his fingers. “Dr. Salmerón and the Cartographers, that’s it.”
“Dr. Salmerón the dragon ?” Gigi asked disbelievingly. “The one who accidentally burned down the town square holiday tree two years in a row?”
“Those were isolated incidents,” Ben said, wincing at the memories. “I hope.” Although now that he thought about it, the one show he’d been to had involved pyrotechnics better suited to a Rammstein concert.
“Isolated enough for you to trust him around your plants? His tail thrashes a lot.”
“Well, maybe not.” Ben sighed and rubbed his temples. “Look, I have to get on the road, but I’ll do some thinking on the way. Make a few calls.” He wrote more notes to take with him. “I’ll need to take a look at the staffing schedule to see if we can manage catering, but if not, there are a few local options—”
Abruptly, the phone was yanked out of his hand. Eleonore scowled as she put it on speaker. “Gigi, this is Eleonore. Ben is bad at drawing boundaries, so I’m going to do it for him. He’s busy and you can find someone else to manage your event tonight.”
Gigi sputtered. “But—”
“No buts,” Eleonore said. “He’s been working himself to exhaustion on your campaign, running the Emporium, and helping me. He’s maxed out, and he has been for a long time.”
Ben felt like he had whiplash from how suddenly the conversation had shifted. “I don’t mind doing any of that,” he protested.
Eleonore narrowed her eyes at him. “I like you, Gigi,” she said, “but you have an entire team willing to help. Yes, Ben is good at logistics. But that doesn’t mean he’s the only one who can arrange an event.” She paused. “I can postpone this trip if I have to, but it’s past time everyone stopped leaning on him so heavily. He gives and gives and gives of himself, and he’s never going to say no until he actually falls down dead of exhaustion.”
Ben gaped at her. No one had ever made a speech like that on his behalf. And he couldn’t imagine how hard it had been to offer to postpone their quest. “We are not postponing,” he said.
Eleonore kept going. “Did you know he’s been knitting holiday presents in the middle of the night?” she asked Gigi. “He doesn’t have time to do it during the day. I found him at four a.m. the other night, passed out over a scarf. He’d nearly stabbed himself in the eye with a knitting needle.”
Wait, Eleonore knew he’d been sneaking out of bed to knit? Normally he would have spent the hours before bed on his projects, but with Eleonore in his bed—and his arms—he’d needed to reallocate time. Refusing to spoon her to sleep wasn’t an option, so whenever he woke up in an anxious sweat, he got out of bed to knit.
That would explain how he woke up on the couch covered in a blanket the other day when his last conscious memory had been undoing a stitch.
Silence followed Eleonore’s pronouncement.
Ben cleared his throat. “Hey. I—”
“Is it true?” Gigi asked. “You’re that worn out?”
“I mean…It’s a stressful time for all of us, right?” He forced a smile, even if she couldn’t see it. “I’ll be fine.”
Eleonore gave a little growl.
Gigi seemed to be on the same page. “Benjamin Handel Rosewood,” she said, tone turning authoritative, “did you nearly poke an eye out with a knitting needle because you’ve been working around the clock?”
“I…well…” When Eleonore raised her eyebrows and flashed a hint of fang, he gave in. “Yeah, I guess.”
There was another pause. Then Gigi spoke more softly. “I’m sorry, Ben. I didn’t realize you were maxed out, but I should have. I wasn’t thinking.”
“Don’t apologize,” he started to say, but Gigi cut him off.
“I’ll apologize if I want to, and you can’t stop me.” She sounded so much like a bratty little sister that he smiled. “Really, though. I’ve been so focused on the election I didn’t think about the toll it’s taking on you. You’ve always been my number one, but it’s not fair to heap responsibility on you.”
“Number One can’t always man the bridge,” Eleonore said. “That’s why there’s a chain of command.”
“I’m not sure what bridge you’re talking about, but you’re right,” Gigi said. “Other people can help. Mariel probably knows caterers, and Themmie goes to live music all the time. And I’m sure Calladia would love to march around giving orders.”
That she would. A tension Ben hadn’t realized he’d been carrying lifted from his shoulders. “Oz and Astaroth would be great security,” he said. “Astaroth is probably dying for a chance to use his sword.”
“Go on the trip,” Gigi said. “Help Eleonore break the curse. Fuck, even saying that makes me realize how selfish I’ve been. Of course that’s more important than the election. I’m really sorry, both of you. And, Eleonore, thanks for the wake-up call.”
“You’re welcome,” she said. “I will repeat the lesson as needed.”
Gigi laughed. “Hopefully once was enough, but I appreciate that.”
“Good luck this weekend,” Ben said. “We’ll be back in time for the election.”
“Take as long as you need. It’ll all be worth it when Eleonore is free.”
“Yes,” Eleonore said seriously. “It will be.”
Eleonore was an…interesting…road trip companion.
After they’d left Glimmer Falls, she’d been glued to the window. She provided running commentary about the things she was seeing. “Ooh, a phoenix!” “That is a very large tree. Is it real?” “Look, two boots dangling from telephone wires! I wonder if a pixie dropped them while flying? Or maybe the pixie was electrocuted and that’s all that’s left…”
She also fiddled with the radio, growing absorbed by various programs. She’d adored Wait Wait…Don’t Tell Me! and everything else NPR offered, and had hissed when reception had grown fuzzy, though irritation soon turned to delight upon discovering a staticky Canadian French radio station. She’d spent the next thirty minutes listening intently to the conversation and discussing pronunciation, vocabulary, and how the Middle French she’d grown up with had transitioned into Modern French. “I had many missions in France over the years,” she’d explained. “It was interesting hearing the changes over time.” Ben didn’t speak French, Canadian or otherwise, but the discussion was fascinating, and he’d been as disappointed as she was when the static grew too unpleasant and another station was required.
After a while, though, Eleonore had grown restless. Fidgeting in her seat, pulling her seat belt out and letting it zip back, snapping her fangs in chattering staccato bursts as she stared out the window.
“Didn’t you grow up when people traveled by horse?” Ben asked after the third time Eleonore had asked, “Are we close?” They were not even remotely close, since they’d just passed Fable Farms and would need to overnight at Griffin’s Nest before finishing the journey the next day.
She gave him a look. “Yes, but horses made walking seem tedious, and now we are in an era with airplanes.”
“Fair enough.” He grinned at that. Road trips were soothing to him, personally—something about the mindlessness of it, the way his thoughts could wander as the view outside changed. This one was less soothing because of what lay at the end of it, but he wasn’t crawling out of his skin the way Eleonore was.
But Eleonore was a vampire succubus of action, the way Ben’s high school English teacher had proclaimed Shakespeare’s Marc Antony a man of action while Brutus was a man of words. She didn’t hesitate or stew on things to the extent Ben did. She saw problems and resolved them, from grabbing a smoke adder to confronting Gigi about Ben’s boundaries. Now she was bouncing in the seat, practically vibrating with impatience to reach the end of their quest.
He loved her.
The thought was sudden, but it settled into his mind as if it had always been there. Of course he loved her. She was funny and insightful and strange and beautiful and complex. Six hundred years of words couldn’t define her. Six hundred languages couldn’t.
He rubbed his chest, not trying to suppress the sweet ache of his heart but acknowledging it. That steady organ had known the truth before he’d put words to it.
What did he do about it, though?
“Would you like a sandwich?” Eleonore asked, twisting to reach for the cooler in the back seat.
He smiled, feeling a ridiculous flutter of butterflies in his stomach. “Yes, I would. Thank you.”
The question of what a werewolf in love should do next could wait. For now, the most important thing was freeing Eleonore. Then they could figure out a path forward together.
“It is an unusual room,” Eleonore said.
“It sure is.” Ben looked around with interest. The hotel room they’d selected was situated in the woods outside Griffin’s Nest and had been carved out of the stump of an enormous western red cedar. The opening at the top of the stump was covered, and roof beams crisscrossed overhead. The walls were the original rough wood of the tree, but the floor had been smoothed and topped with fluffy rugs. A magic-powered refrigerator held water and tiny bottles of alcohol, and two armchairs were squished in on either side of an enchanted fireplace that emitted heat but no smoke.
The entire rest of the space was taken up by the bed. It was seven feet long and the reason they had booked this room rather than one of the others offered by Tansy, a griffin who managed multiple properties around the town of Griffin’s Nest. Though there was barely room to navigate around the bed, Ben would be able to sleep comfortably—an important feature when one was confronting an evil witch in the morning.
Tansy had been delighted to have visitors from Glimmer Falls. The griffin had shrieked an excited inquiry about Astaroth and Calladia, who had apparently stayed in a different property managed by the griffin. “Frieeeeaaands are ’aaaappy?” Tansy had cawed, and Ben had informed them that yes, Calladia and Astaroth were very happy. In response, Tansy had pawed the floor and bowed their head in a traditional griffin gesture of goodwill.
Ben smiled as he watched Eleonore explore the space. She moved in a blur, appearing first at the fireplace, then the minifridge to inspect the tiny bottles, then hanging upside down from the rafters.
Apparently satisfied, Eleonore released the overhead beam and plummeted onto the bed, bouncing before settling onto her stomach. “I’m so glad we’re finally out of that car,” she said, nuzzling the pillow with her face.
“I hope you disarmed before doing that,” Ben said.
She turned her head to squint up at him. “Knives are in the bag. I’ll arm up properly tomorrow.”
It was touching she didn’t feel the need to be armed around him. Eleonore almost always had a knife hidden somewhere on her person.
Ben eyed the bed, tempted to pass out, but he felt grimy after a day on the road and he could still smell the fast food they’d grabbed for dinner. “I’m going to take a shower,” he said.
Eleonore perked up. “Can I come?”
As if he would say no. “Of course,” he said, grabbing towels and a zipper pouch of toiletries from their bags.
Eleonore put her shoes back on and followed him out. It was dark outside, but the path to the shower complex was lit by small lanterns, each with a glowing magic orb inside. The wind picked up, and a few drops of rain struck his cheeks.
Unsure what an “outhouse and outdoor shower” entailed, Ben was relieved to see two small stone buildings protected from the elements. In one was a composting toilet and sink with magazines, extra toiletries, and towels on shelves around the room. The other hut had a gravel floor—the pebbles smooth enough not to bother the feet—with a rain shower overhead and racks to place clothing on. There was an adjacent alcove big enough for one person to stand in. An inscribed brass plate over the entrance announced its purpose: for bathers’ bodies wet, let magic dry thee get. bewitched by ashbo the astounding, 2008. A magic drying station before they had to go out in the cold again—what a marvelous invention.
While Eleonore used the restroom, Ben started the shower. The floor had been set up so water drained into a channel that disappeared underground. Tansy had told them the water was purified and repurposed to feed a vegetable garden.
At least, that’s what Ben thought Tansy had said. Griffin beaks were better suited to shrieking than precise enunciation.
Eleonore appeared at the door. “It’s getting cold out there.”
Ben swept an arm out, gesturing at the spray. “For you, milady.”
She grinned as she shucked off her boots, pants, shirt, and undergarments. He stared at her full breasts, mouth watering as a familiar heaviness settled in his groin.
She smirked before stepping under the spray. “Are you going to join me?”
“In a moment.” Ben ducked out, hurrying to the restroom to take his turn. The temperature had indeed dropped, and the rain was a steady patter on his hair when he emerged.
Thankfully, the rock-walled shower was toasty warm. Eleonore was a sight in the midst of the steam, her pale skin flushed pink and water trailing lovingly over her curves. Of course, Ben only had a moment to appreciate it before his glasses fogged over.
“I’m so glad this time has hot showers,” Eleonore said. “I could have been liberated during a time when people only bathed once a year.”
She’d been speaking of breaking the curse tomorrow as a certainty, and although Ben didn’t know precisely how they would go about it, he’d followed suit. The alternative was unimaginable. But Eleonore was positive she would be able to convince Isobel to lift the curse, so he was trying to suppress his worries and follow her lead.
“You could have been free sooner, though,” Ben said. “Smelly, maybe, but free.” He set his glasses next to his clothes, then turned to face Eleonore.
“With so much time spent in a fog, it’s not like I experienced the extra few hundred years in real time. And now I have hot showers, Star Trek , and my PADD.” There was a pause before she murmured, “And you.”
He needed to kiss her for saying something so sweet. He marched under the spray, wincing at the hot sting. Acclimating himself gradually would have been wise, but a lot of things would have been wise that Ben had chosen not to do during this odd courtship, and it had worked out so far. So he kissed her, letting his discomfort and worries wash away until he only felt warmth, joy, and the woman in his arms.
“Ben,” she gasped when he broke away to breathe.
“Yeah?” He nosed her ear, nibbling on the lobe before kissing down her neck.
“Do you want to have sex?”
“Always.”
“Penetrative sex,” she clarified.
He groaned, hips pushing forward until his erection pressed against her belly. “I thought we were going to wait until the curse was lifted.”
“Yes, but…” She gripped his cheeks, looking him in the eye. “I trust you.”
His heart ached with a feeling too beautiful to put into words. It was a precious gift she offered: to lay her body and safety on the line, knowing he could issue an order at any time. He would never, of course, but that was easy for him to say. She was the one with everything to lose.
Well, he had his heart to lose, but that was already gone, wasn’t it? She held it in her hands.
“Just promise me something,” she said.
“Anything,” he vowed.
Her eyes were wide and beseeching, the dizzying green of verdant summer forests. “You won’t go back on our deal and change your mind about freeing me after we do this.”
“Go back on our deal?” he asked, astounded she would even worry about that. “Never, Eleonore. I vow never, ever to give you a command again, and I promise I’m not going to change my mind about the deal. And I’m not saying that just to have sex with you—you deserve freedom, and I’ll do anything to help you get it.”
Her lower lip trembled before she bit it. “Good.” She nodded. “Very good.” Then she reached down and, with typical Eleonore directness, hefted his balls in one hand. “Should we do it here, then?”
Ben choked on a sound that was half laugh, half wheeze. It was impossible to think with her cupping him. “Ah, maybe not right here.”
“Oh.” She looked around. “I suppose the rocks could get precarious.” She eyed the ceiling consideringly. “I wonder if I’m strong enough…”
“How about we make love in a bed?” Ben suggested. Logistics aside, he liked the traditional romance of it. There would be time to get more adventurous later.
After the curse was broken. Because it would be.
It had to be.
Eleonore blinked, long lashes spiked with water. “You called it making love .”
Busted. He shifted from foot to foot, scrunching his toes in the gravel. “Uh…”
“It sounds much sweeter than fucking ,” she said thoughtfully. “Sweet words for a sweet wolf.” She nodded. “Very well. We will make love in a bed.”
Thank Lycaon she hadn’t pushed him for more details about his terminology. Ben would tell her he loved her if she asked, but he wasn’t ready to make the confession unprompted yet. That sort of thing required flowers, a fancy dinner, maybe a night out dancing under the quarter moon. Or a celebratory cake—could one bake a red velvet cake with blood? Whatever he chose, it required pomp and circumstance, not a blurted confession in a hotel shower.
They washed quickly—though Ben tried to linger while soaping down Eleonore’s curves, she was too amped up about the sex to wait. When she washed him in return, it was with a mix of normal speed and superspeed, and at one point he jerked and made a bleating noise when a washcloth swiped his ass with the speed and precision of a tactical nuclear strike. Being goosed didn’t diminish his arousal, though it did make him laugh, and how wonderful was that? To find passion mixed with joy.
The mystical body dryer was efficient, bathing him in warmth before sucking the excess moisture away. When he ran his hands through his hair, it stood up like he’d stuck his finger in an electrical socket. Or maybe his dick, considering which part of him was taking the lead. He was nearly painfully erect with anticipation.
Eleonore cackled at the sight of his wild hair, but she was little better when she emerged. Strands of long red hair lifted on invisible currents of static. When he reached out to touch one, electricity leaped between them.
“I was going to suggest you install one of these at home,” she said as she re-dressed, “but perhaps there are less-aggressive versions.”
Home , she’d said .
Was she coming to think of his house as her home, too?
He hoped so. He’d gotten used to having her around. No, not just that. He loved having her around. Her weird antics and cooking misadventures, her blanket burritos and Star Trek marathons. She was vibrant, shining brightly in a way wholly her own.
The rain was pelting down, so they sprinted the short distance to the room. It was toasty warm from the fireplace, and Ben was glad they had dried off before rolling around on those soft-looking sheets.
Eleonore kicked the door shut, then wasted no time stripping again. He followed suit, and Eleonore planted her hands on his bare chest and shoved him onto the bed. She clambered on top of him and kissed him hard, hands cupping his cheeks and eyes squeezed shut.
Ben let his own eyes drift closed. He ran his hands over her waist to her hips, then kneaded the lush curve of her ass. Her thighs were spread around his, and he felt the feather-light tickle of her pubic hair on his lower belly. He reached down to position his cock so it was sandwiched between them, then pulled her closer, encouraging her to grind against him.
Eleonore moved her hips in a rolling rhythm. She was already wet, but she grew wetter as she moved, leaving slick, hot streaks on his cock. The friction was exquisite, and Ben bit the inside of his cheek, trying to think of anything but how she would feel around him.
That made him realize something. “Shoot,” he said, eyes opening. “I don’t have a condom.” He hadn’t expected this to happen yet, and he was long past the days of an aspirational condom stored in his wallet.
Eleonore grinned, rubbing against him in another mind-scrambling movement. “There are some in the nightstand.”
Thank Lycaon. “How did you know that?”
“I asked Tansy,” she confessed.
Which meant…“You were planning on this?” he asked, surprised.
Even more surprising was that she looked…shy. “Not really,” she said, pausing in her movements. She sat up more fully, supporting herself with her hands planted on his chest. “But I was thinking on the way here that part of why I was holding back was just for that reason—to have something to hold back. In case you needed motivation to help me.”
The words sent an arrow of hurt into Ben’s heart. “That’s—Eleonore, you know I would never—”
She nodded fervently, and the ends of her long hair tickled his abdomen. “Yes, I know. That was the paranoid part of me speaking, not anything to do with you.” Her eyes darted away, and she made a face. “There’s a part of me that can’t believe in good things. A nasty little creature inside that tells me this will all go wrong.”
Ben could understand that. He had his own nasty little creature. So he exhaled the pain of her suspicion away, instead embracing the gift of her honesty. “It makes sense you’d be scared,” he said. When her eyes flashed to him, he clarified. “Maybe scared isn’t the right word. But you’ve had a lot of bad experiences that are going to shape your expectations.”
She traced a nail through his chest hair. “No, I think that is the right word. I’ve been afraid of having something so good it would destroy me if it were taken away.”
“Oh, Eleonore.” Ben reached up to cup her cheeks, feeling a flood of affection and desire. Maybe he shouldn’t still be aroused with the conversation taking this serious turn, but she was naked and trusting him with her truths, and the intimacy of it was breathtaking. “I won’t take it away from you,” he said softly. “I’ll be at your side for as long as you want me.”
Her beautiful green eyes searched his, and then she smiled, soft and radiant. “I believe you.” Then she wiggled her hips. “Should we get to the sex, then?”
Ben’s chuckle turned into a strangled groan as she rocked against him. With her seated upright, he could see her labia parted around the underside of his shaft, the skin pink and glistening, and the sight nearly ended him. Still, he struggled to hang on to a shred of rational thought. “We can wait if you want to think about it more.”
“No, I have concluded my ruminating.” She licked her lips. “So what do you say, werewolf? Shall we make love in this bed?”
As if there was any other answer to give. “Yes, Eleonore.”