Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tempest
Fender silently followed me as I searched for a secluded area.
When I found a spot that was suitably concealed, I took what I needed from my bag.
My cheeks heated just thinking about stripping down in front of him, but it had to be done, and he’d seen me partially naked already.
It was fine. I was fine. My insecurity about my body had to take a back seat.
Stopping the apocalypse was just a tad more important.
I handed him my stone mortar, and he took the heavy bowl dutifully and continued to watch as I added the ingredients.
First, I dropped in several lilies, ones I grew in the cemetery, and a small bunch of moss that I’d harvested from the ancient oaks that grew on the edge of the moat.
I crushed them with the stone pestle, then added a handful of cemetery dirt.
I ground that in as well, then finally poured in a quantity of oil from several different bottles, all specialized and highly potent mixes developed by the Matildas over the centuries.
It took a moment to grind and emulsify the mix and create the correct consistency.
Fender made a rough sound. “I’ve seen this done before.”
His voice was so low, I had to fight back a shiver. “You have?” I risked a glance up at him.
“A while ago now, back before Willow and War were mated. Some of my brothers became possessed. Wills helped, and she did this, what you’re about to do.” He lifted his shirt and showed me a rune tattooed on his chest. “She gave us these as well, since hounds are an easy target for possession.”
I’d seen the rune tattoo, but I’d been preoccupied and hadn’t looked that closely.
“We don’t have souls, at least not like you have. We have something else and that leaves us open to spirits,” he added.
His gaze grew intense like he was waiting for me to freak out or recoil, but I’d already known he didn’t have a soul, that Hell-born beings didn’t have souls like we did. “It’s good you have the rune, then.”
“It is. It means I can go into that cave with you.”
I shook my head. “It’s better if you stay out here. I’m a witch. Brigid will tolerate me in her domain more than you. I’ll need to talk to her, if she is still here, and ask for permission to pass. Having you there will just anger her more.”
He huffed out a growl. “You sure as fuck don’t have any trouble speaking your mind anymore, peaches.”
My gaze shot to his. “And what? You prefer me meek and obedient?” His head jerked back in that way of his, like I’d fired an invisible blow or, at the very least, surprised him.
“No, I don’t want you meek or fucking obedient,” he said, and his voice was harsh now. “And if you truly think that, then you haven’t been paying attention, and you don’t know me at all.”
Shame washed over me. He was right, of course. Fender hadn’t deserved that. I was taking my hurt and upset over the Matildas’ silence, over losing my job at the clinic, over disappointing Jack and Magnolia—over all my failures—on him. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t know why I said that.”
“Yeah, you do. Something’s bothering you. I felt it when you walked out of your place earlier. You can’t go in there and confront Brigid’s ghost while you’re all churned up like this. Talk to me.”
His voice was gentle, but the beast in him had added a growl that told me he wasn’t going to let it drop.
“I’m no longer working at the clinic,” I said without looking at him.
“Why?”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about. Jack just…he thought it was time for me to move on, and he’s right.”
“Move on? What the fuck are you talking about? Are you leaving?”
Crap, I’d gone about this all wrong as well.
“Possibly,” I said, being vague. There’d be no reason for me to leave the cottage anymore, or the forest, which was probably for the best—unless of course I was no longer a Matilda.
That was also highly likely, since the silence I was getting from the others could very well mean that they were already gone.
I’d broken so many rules. I’d put the Matildas at risk, and for what? To prove I was a good healer? Because I wanted some friends? Because I was lonely? None of those reasons were good enough. They were selfish.
“You have all these secrets,” Fender said. “Tell me what’s going on with you, what’s truly going on. I can help you. Let me help you.”
This was exactly what I didn’t want. The betrayal and hurt in his voice rocked me, because I felt it as well.
The idea of never seeing him again hurt me too.
“This is not the time to talk about any of this,” I said softly because Fender had a desperate glint in his eyes that I didn’t understand, but it made me want to reach for him.
Reaching for him now would be a terrible idea, though, especially in the state I was in. So instead, I took a step back and yanked off my top.
He growled low and long. “You can’t distract me from talking about this.”
“I’m not trying to,” I said again, with more force. “I have a job to do and so do you.”
He seemed to shake himself then. “Fine,” he finally said. “But we’re talking about this when we get back.”
I nodded, lying, something I apparently did often and easily now, and stripped off the rest of my clothes.
Fender cursed.
I’d never stood in front of anyone completely naked before. I wasn’t thin or statuesque like Aradina or toned and muscled like Zari. I was soft. I had thick thighs and dimples and cellulite and my boobs were too big, but the way Fender was looking at me made it clear he didn’t see me the same way.
“Fucking hell, Tempest. Look at you,” he choked. “You’re so…so fucking beautiful.”
My face heated.
“I want…I really want to kiss you right now,” he said and took a step toward me.
I lifted my hand, and he immediately stopped. “That’s not why I’m naked.”
“You want me to just stand here, with you like that, and keep my hands to myself?” he growled.
“Yes,” I said. “And you will because you have to, at least until I need help with my back.”
His nostrils flared. “Fine.”
I didn’t let myself think about my nakedness as I scooped the fragrant oil into my palm and began smearing it over every bit of skin I could reach, or that I had a huge, growly, enthralled audience of one.
His breathing had grown harsh as I quickly and efficiently as possible smeared the oil over myself.
When I’d covered every bit of exposed skin I could reach, I risked looking up at him.
He stood like stone, an obvious erection straining against the front of his jeans, and he was kind of panting.
“Did I miss anywhere on my back?” I asked as if I hadn’t noticed any of those things.
“Yes,” he rumbled.
“Will you get it for me?”
He held out his hand and I passed the stone bowl to him, then turned around, giving him my back.
Anticipation coursed through me as I stood there waiting for him to touch me, and when he finally did, I jumped.
His palm was scalding hot and rough-skinned as he ran it down my spine, right to the crack of my butt, then back up.
“Do you all have protective runes?” I asked before I got too distracted and it slipped my mind completely.
“Kurgan and Zari don’t.”
“They can’t pass through without them. Someone will need to mark them with it before they enter the caves.”
“Will marker do?” Fender asked.
“It’ll need to be below the skin.”
“No problem, Rome can do it for them,” he said, then his fingers curled around the back of my neck and he leaned in, his mouth a millimeter from my ear. “All done.”
This was torture. I wanted to forget everything, spin around, and throw myself at him. I wanted him to take me down to the forest floor and claim me like the animal he was.
“Tempest,” he growled. “Stop it, or I’ll do it. I’ll give you exactly what you want, right here, right fucking now.”
My gaze sliced up from his cock that looked in danger of tearing through his jeans, then up to his eyes. Hellhounds couldn’t read minds, but they had excellent noses, and I also wasn’t being very subtle. “Sorry,” I choked out.
“The sooner we do this, the sooner I can get you back to my den and finish what we started.”
Before I retreated to my life of solitude, I wanted to be with Fender. I wanted him, all of him, but I got the feeling he wasn’t just talking about sex. He wanted answers as well. “Okay,” I whispered.
“Okay,” he said.
Then I turned and walked into the cave.
Darkness immediately engulfed me, heavy and unnatural. Brigid was definitely still here. Her magic flowed against me, over me, and the deeper I tried to walk, the denser it grew until it was like walking through pea soup.
“Brigid,” I called. “It’s me, Matilda.”
The heaviness surrounding me began to withdraw then, like a wave of molasses pulling away, dragging me deeper into the cave, until the dense feeling had dropped so it only surrounded my ankles.
I tried to wade through it but was hit again, another wave of thick magic slamming into me, knocking me onto the floor this time.
Struggling against the heaviness, I tried to get up.
A scream echoed through the caves, bringing the wind with it. I froze in my prone position. The tormented sound was distant at first but was steadily growing in volume, like an incoming storm. I squeezed my eyes closed against the dust and debris blasting against my bare skin and covered my ears.
Everything stopped as fast as it came, and I opened my eyes—and came face to face with Brigid.
She was a glowing apparition, hovering over me. Her face was contorted, her hair swimming around her head like she was floating in water. Her eyes were wild with rage, but also with confusion.
Brigid was different this time, and not just in appearance.
When we’d removed her remains, we’d taken the thing that had kept her grounded to this place.
Without it, the revenge she’d held in her heart was dissipating, she was forgetting.
A ghost with this much rage and nowhere to direct it would soon burn themselves up.