Blood Moon (Silver Moon, #3) - By Rebecca A. Rogers Page 0,24

“the next thing my shoe will meet is you.”

Though his cackling dies down, it doesn’t stop altogether. “Oh, I’d love to see you try, Princess.”

I circle in front, causing him to stop, so I can challenge him. “Are you forgetting what happened with Cameron?”

“Are you forgetting I’m stronger than you, that I’ve been a werewolf a lot longer, and that I’m a dude?”

Eyes constricted, I ask, “And what is that supposed to mean, exactly?”

“That I could take you.” He shrugs. “What else?”

“You know, if it wasn’t so muddy right here, I’d consider your offer.”

Throwing his head back in amusement, he resumes the conversation seconds later. “And you would lose, Princess. Hate to break it to you.”

I open my mouth to argue how wrong he is, but change my mind. “Whatever. I’ll catch you off-guard one of these days, when you least expect it.”

He ambles over to me, leans in so close our noses almost touch, and says, “I’m always on the lookout. There’s never a moment that goes by where I don’t clad an invisible suit of armor, or have a giant brick wall built, fortifying my mind, heart, and body.”

Confrontation aside, I contemplate what he just told me. I’ll be honest: my feelings are a little hurt. Why does he need to keep a metaphorical brick wall up, especially when he’s around me? That doesn’t make any sense. Thinking about his words, my heart melts into a pile of mush, liquefying, dropping into my stomach as one big, fat glob of emptiness. Fortunately, I’m able to black out my mental opinions so he can’t recognize he’s deeply upset me.

“Let’s just go,” I say, defeated.

“What, you suddenly don’t want to kick my ass?” He thinks this is highly amusing, judging by the grin on his face.

I begin walking and disregard him. We need to keep our heads in the game if we want to return to Hartford, not stand here and argue over who has the upper hand in fights. With the newest information Ulric and Daciana revealed to us, we have a long journey ahead, one riddled with complexities and danger. Should we stray from our original plan, what we came here for, our futures will become completely nonexistent, including the future lives of those we love.

Unexpectedly, Ben rushes up from behind, enclosing my waist with his arms and stopping me in my tracks. “Hey,” he murmurs against my hair, “I’m sorry if I offended you. I was just messing around.”

“It’s nothing,” I say, waving him off. My attempt to squirm out of his grasp doesn’t work, as he decides it’s best to hold me in place.

“Friends?” he jokes.

I can’t help but smile. “Yes, Ben, we’re still friends.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Oh, my God. Stop. No.”

His chuckle is deep and husky. “Fine, then. Have it your way.”

“Don’t I always?”

Nodding, he replies, “Yes, Princess, you do.”

We resume our trip to Fiona’s house, where she’s undoubtedly wondering where we disappeared to. I hate to assume she’s made dinner and it’s sitting on the table, cold from the lack of our presence. These people work hard enough as it is. Coming home at night and managing cooking is just another chore in their lives. There are no microwaves or ovens, only food straight from their backyards and meals prepared with kindness.

Not surprisingly, Ben and I open the front door and are met with the scent of warm bread and an aromatic stew bubbling in a large pot over the hearth. Fiona and Francine’s wooden bowls sit in front of them at the table, half-full of whatever concoction Fiona created before we arrived.

“I’m so sorry we’re late,” I say, as Ben closes the door behind us. “We were sidetracked with sightseeing both the town and the fringes.”

Although Fiona smiles, there’s no twinkle in her eyes telling me it’s okay to show up at whatever time works to our advantage. “No matter. Did the two of ye have a pleasant time?”

“We did,” I reply, “and we’ll be sure to make this up to you.”

She dismisses my offer with a wave of her hand. “No need. As long as ye arrive safe and sound before evening, all is well. There are too many strange happenings in the forest of late, and I would not wish for anyone to be near that region.” Curling her lips, she adds, “Come now, sit and eat.” She stands and walks over to the blazing hearth, ladling out large portions of stew into our bowls, while Ben and I seat ourselves. Francine has