Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) - By Rebecca A. Rogers Page 0,19

of us puzzled by the stack of questions our minds have generated. I’ve certainly never seen a person approach a werewolf so calmly. Even in Hartford, we’d be fearful to advance on one another while transformed. But this woman? It’s like fear doesn’t exist inside her.

Ben chuckles. What an experience that was.

Tell me about it.

I know what you’re thinking—

Of course you do, I say sarcastically.

—and I have the same opinion. Nobody walks up to a werewolf and just shoos it off like a pest.

She can’t be a freaking werewolf whisperer. Either that woman used some sort of magic and compelled the wolf to leave, or she knows the creature personally.

“Oh!” I exclaim. “I forgot one thing.” Before Ben asks me what I’m talking about, I pivot on my heel and jog back toward the clearing. The weirdo woman continues to harvest fruit and hasn’t disappeared. That’s good.

“Hey!” I call out to her.

She casually glances over her shoulder and grins. “Back so soon?”

“I’m just curious about something,” I say. “I never got your name.”

A long, drawn-out smile stretches across her face. “That is because I never gave it to ye.” As quickly as I can snap my fingers, she vanishes into thin air, simply leaving a pallid mist in her wake.

Chapter Five

“Ugh. Not this shit again,” Ben murmurs. “I have a feeling there will be more freakish confrontations here than what we’ve experienced back home.”

“I think you’re right about that one,” I whisper, my voice raw. Seriously, though, why is it every time we come close to finding a missing piece of the puzzle something bizarre happens? Why can’t these people be normal, sixteenth-century men, women, and children? Instead, there’s black magic, a bird lady, a woman who can disappear into nothingness . . . Oh, and werewolves. Yeah, this is definitely not the sixteenth century I learned about in history books.

“So, what’s next on our agenda?” Ben asks, as we nonchalantly stroll toward town.

I lift my shoulders, then steadily let them drop. “I was thinking maybe we should talk to Daciana and whichever Conway brother is with her, if they’re still at the Lowell residence. My guess? It’s Ulric, but I can’t be sure.”

Ben exhales loudly. “I have a feeling you’re right about that.” He slides one arm around my waist and slams me against his chest. “One thing before we go.”

I refrain from grinning. “Oh? What’s that?”

He dips his head so our mouths are scarcely divided. “This.” Lips smashing against mine, he hugs me closer, pressing our bodies together in a unified pose—chests, stomachs, thighs, and everything in between are shared. Heat permeates our clothing, as strong as the humid breaths connecting our lips. Ben’s hand, which previously grasped my side, slides upward. I know exactly where this is going, and I have no qualms with allowing him to roam freely. Fingers spreading over my right breast, Ben squeezes until he elicits a moan from my mouth. His lips curl into a triumphant smirk, and before I can protest his obvious amusement, he twists us around and backs me against a tree. With no way to escape—not that I want to—I surrender to our mutual desire. Taking his sweet time, Ben strokes my tongue with his, thoroughly and skillfully, igniting a miniature firestorm deep within my core. I press against his chest, both partially wishing he’ll stop, and partially wishing he’ll never cease this devastatingly wonderful make-out session.

Digging far within, I’m able to clumsily push him away. Let’s face it—we have work to do, and it’s not going to get done unless we have our heads on straight. Sure, Ben and I can screw around all we want while we’re here, but that won’t achieve much. In fact, it’ll only set us back further. There’s no guarantee that, if we mess up this one chance we were given, we’ll be able to revert to where we started. So we have to make the most of our stay.

Tenderly lifting my chin with his fingers, he asks, “What’s wrong?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. I just—”

His mouth covers mine again, more vigorously than before. I can’t even catch my breath. Then again, making out with Benjamin Conway will do that to a girl.

Twisting my head to the side, I inhale the scents surrounding us—dirt, greenery, trees. I find all of it refreshing as I close my eyes and slow my rapidly-beating heart. “I just think we need to stick with our most recent plan. We can’t veer off-course.”

Ben rolls his eyes, but