Page 40 of Cruel Moon
“Enough.” The word comes in an angry snarl. “I’ve got this handled. The families from the inn need you more right now.”
Rachel steps forward, placing a gentle hand on Lawrence’s arm. “He’s right. We need to get those people taken care of, figure out who set that fire.” She turns to me, her eyes soft with understanding. “You’ll call if anything happens?”
I nod, grateful for her support. “Of course.”
“Bast,” Lawrence starts again, but Lila cuts him off.
“Let’s go,” she says firmly. “The wards will hold. And besides…” She glances between Bridget and me, something knowing in her gaze. “They need to talk. Undo the rope spells, Lawrence.”
He gives an audible huff, says something under his breath, and then the ropes fall off Bridget’s wrists and ankles.
The front door closes behind them with a finality that settles heavy in my gut. For a moment, I just stand there, listening to their cars crunch down the gravel driveway. Bridget’s arms are now wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold something in.
Or keep something out.
I rake my hands through my hair, fighting the urge to go to her, to pull her into my arms and promise everything will be okay. But I can’t. Because I don’t know if it will be.
“They want you to kill Emma,” I say finally, breaking the thick silence. “Emma, who’s done nothing wrong. I grew up with her. She’s family, just like her mom was.”
Bridget’s shoulders tense. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. I didn’t choose this.”
“But you will hurt her, won’t you?”
She turns to me then, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “Wouldn’t you? If someone had one of your family members and told you the only way to save them was to—”
“Stop.” Fuck, she’s not wrong. If someone had offered me a way to save Jackson, would I have taken it? Who would I have been willing to hurt to save him?
Yes, I might have.
“I understand desperate,” I continue, softer now. “Fuck, do I understand desperate. But Emma’s family. I won’t let you.”
“And Brianna is my family.” Bridget takes a step toward me, then stops, like she’s not sure she’s allowed. “My little sister. She’s all I have left. They have her locked in a cell, Bast. They’re hurting her. Using her to control me. I won’t leave her there.”
The pain in her voice reaches into my chest and squeezes. Through our bond, I feel the echo of her anguish, her fear, her bone-deep need to protect her sister. It mingles with my own grief for Jackson until I can barely breathe through it.
“There has to be another way.” I close the distance between us, unable to stay away any longer. My hands come up to cup her face, thumbs brushing away tears. I don’t think she even realizes she’s crying. “We’ll find another way.”
“How?” She looks up at me, and fuck, I’m drowning in those eyes. “They’ll never stop. They’ll just keep sending people. Keep hurting her until—”
I kiss her.
I shouldn’t. It’s probably the stupidest thing I could do right now. But I can’t help it. The need to comfort her, to claim her, to make her understand that she’s not alone anymore—it overwhelms every rational thought in my head.
Her lips are soft, salt-sweet with tears. For a moment, she stiffens in surprise. Then she melts against me with a whimper that shoots straight to my core. Her hands fist in my shirt, pulling me closer as the kiss deepens, turns desperate.
The bond between us flares hot and bright, amplifying every sensation. I can feel her desire mixing with mine, creating a feedback loop of need that threatens to consume us both. My wolf howls in triumph as I back her up against the wall, pressing against her, wanting to crawl inside her skin.
It would be so easy to lose myself in her. To let the heat building between us burn away all the complications, all the fear and doubt. My hands slide down her sides, memorizing every curve as our tongues tangle. She tastes like possibilities. Like forever. Like home.
But underneath it all, there’s still that edge of desperation. I can feel it through our bond—the way part of her is already planning, calculating, trying to figure out how to do what theMathairswant—kill Emma—to save her sister. Even as she arches into my touch, even as her body tells me yes, her mind is elsewhere.
The realization is like ice water in my veins.
I tear my mouth away from hers, resting my forehead against the wall beside her head. We’re both breathing hard, hearts racing in sync. Her hands are still twisted in my shirt, like she’s afraid to let go.
“I can’t,” I rasp out, the words feeling like they’re being ripped from my throat. “Not until I know you’re with me. Really with me.”
“Bast…” Her voice breaks on my name.
