Swamp Magic (Crimson Romance) (11 page)

“Where is here exactly?”

“My chambers,” he rumbled with pride.

• • •

Essentially, he’d told her squat. His chambers. Where in the hell was that, and why did it seem like they were in a cave? And why did her mind scream she’d forgotten something serious? A nagging reminder she’d been on an important mission. Geez, but her head throbbed. Each pulse felt like someone cracking her over the head.

“Moss,” she squealed, as if she’d just found the long-missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle.

She yelled it so suddenly, Damien turned back toward her before she had a chance to pull the shirt he’d given her the rest of the way down. Her breasts swayed a bit, and the look he gave her told her that, though he might have had no choice in doing the deed with her, he’d more than enjoyed himself.

“I don’t blame you, you know,” she whispered,
surprising Damien as well as herself.

“Maybe you should.” He turned away, his head hung low.

She sat on the edge of the bed and wondered if Moss would understand what had happened. Infidelity? Could one, under a spell of this kind, still be held accountable? Would he understand what had happened and still believe in her? Still want her? Hell, that was if she even found him.

“This Moss, he loves you?” Damien asked quietly, not ready to admit yet he knew the reptile shifter.

“Uh, well … I’m really not sure how to explain. It’s kind of complicated.”

“What’s complicated about loving a woman like you?” he asked, still refusing to meet her eyes.

She wasn’t sure what he meant by “a woman like her,” but he’d made it sound like he thought her honorable or something. She couldn’t quite put her finger on exactly what he aimed for.

“Well, this witch of yours, Octavia, led him to believe a lie. Shit! I remember now.” When Damien remained silent, she continued. “She told him a huge, horrible lie, and I was trying to find him to tell him the truth.”

The heavy wooden door to the chamber’s entrance slammed open so hard that when it made contact with the cave wall it splintered into a thousand tiny shards. Instinctively, she jumped, lunging toward Damien, who’d come to place himself between her and the door in a protective stance.

“Step away from her,” a very angry, predatory hiss demanded.

His hair hung loose and wet, his bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat. He appeared as though he’d gone on a rampage through the swamp. He trembled with rage. But it was the glowing green eyes that tipped her off to the instability of the seething man before her.

“Moss?”

Moss stormed into the candlelit chamber and stilled as he seemed to scent something in the air. His eyes took on an ominous glare before he turned to stalk toward Damien. His intentions were clear, the resounding threat of violence present in each precise step.

Beth watched in horror as Damien switched from defensive to offensive. His muscles bunching, teeth bared, as he met Moss’s deathly glare with an equally lethal look. They began a slow, macabre dance, circling as each took on more predatory features.

“You have been with him.” A statement — gruff, accusing, menacing — not a question.

“It is not what you think,
Bog Man
,” Damien stated with a bit too much emphasis on “Bog Man.” It was a clear jab at who Moss was, who he resented being.

Beth never saw who struck first. She only caught a blur and a whistling of air before Damien went from standing in front of her to fighting for his life sprawled across the floor. She knew she’d never forget the grotesque sound of bones cracking or watching skin splitting, spilling blood onto the cave’s stone floor.

“Stop it!” she screamed so loud she swore she burst a lung. But it wasn’t loud enough, as neither so much as paused.

Fists continued to fly, as did muffled thuds as enormous knuckles made contact with flesh. Praying neither would be left with permanent injuries, she tried to figure out a way to make the meatheads stop.

Adrenaline and testosterone permeated the room. She shook like a leaf at what she feared would be the death of one of the two men she cared about. She didn’t want them fighting, especially not over her, and if she planned to stop them it had to be now. Bloody pools already sat coagulating in crevices about the floor. Going by the sounds of their grunts, neither was ready to concede the fight.

She called upon her secret gift. The one that set her apart from the rest of her other female kin. She went into Moss’s mind first, showering him with images of the witch casting the lust spell on her. Next she shot into Damien’s, grabbed the images of his heartfelt apology for having no choice but to have fucked her, and literally transferred them into Moss’s mind, praying he’d see and understand the situation for what was.

Both men stilled at her initial telepathic intrusions. Stilled even while gripping the other fiercely for dominance. Neither trusted the other’s momentary pause in battle, but they stopped nonetheless. Once all images had been transferred back and forth, she waited for them to process what they’d seen. Moments later, they backed away from each other and stood, hesitant. Each eyed the other warily, but they were no longer swinging at each other.

Whew, much better. At least it was a start. “He didn’t have a choice, Moss. Neither did I,” she explained, hoping to not rekindle the anger she’d just extinguished.

Still breathing heavily, and appearing torn with raw emotion, Moss said nothing. The pained look he wore tore her heart in two and brought tears to her eyes. She wasn’t sure what else to say. How else could she explain what had transpired between her and Damien. A bit calmer but still taut, ready for another assault, Damien attempted a better explanation.

“You of all people should understand what the cold bitch is capable of. You know once she has cast a spell, there is no turning back. Would you have preferred me to leave her in agonizing pain? Preferred me to risk her dying by the fever? She was in excruciating pain, and the fever was high enough I chose not to risk her life.”

“I would have preferred you not to have fucked her. Preferred you to have located me. I would have helped ease her suffering.”

Oh, shit. Beth knew Moss still seethed in anger. Though she did pick up confusion as well. Also that he felt betrayed. By both of them. Yet for now, they had him at least listening.

“So you wish for me to have taken the time to search for you? Hunt you for God only knows how long out in the swamps, all while she screamed in agony?” Damien’s eyes narrowed angrily as he took in Moss’s pause for consideration. “You care so little for her, Bog Man, that you would have chosen that for her? Answer carefully, for the way you answer will play a large part in how I intend to go forth.”

“Is that a threat, Road Kill?” Moss snickered.

Road Kill? What in the hell was Moss insinuating? Moss’s ploy to bait Damien had worked. Damien’s eyes narrowed as he bristled at Moss’s name-calling. His formerly defensive stance switched to a decidedly offensive one. The last thing anyone needed was for them to throw down again. She thought she should jump between them to settle them down, but instead, she froze. She needed to hear Moss’s answer, from his lips. Moss’s labored breaths boomed through the room, yet he refused to speak or even look her way. Her heart broke into a million tiny pieces.

“Your lack of answer is enough for me,” she said. “I judged you wrong, Moss, and I apologize for placing too much responsibility on you concerning me. Damien, I understand what you did and why, and please believe I hold no ill will toward you. I thank you for having cared enough, even though you didn’t really know me, to not want me left in agony or worse.”

She watched, angry and bitter as Damien, who seemed to care more about her, a mere stranger, than her own Bog Man did, lowered his head in acknowledgement of her words. Head held high, she turned to flee before the as of yet unshed tears poured free. When she got to the chamber’s entrance, she turned to face Moss one last time. She would do what she’d set out to do. It seemed only fitting.

“Moss, regardless of what transpired between us, you have a right to know the truth.” She used her nails to score her palms to battle back the tears. The sting worked for the moment. “You were not responsible for your wife’s death or that of the children.”

His head whipped toward her as shock replaced the angry look on his face. “What did you just say?” A mere whisper, yet pain rode loud in each syllable, and his face contorted in sheer torture.

“You killed no one that night. It was you she zeroed in on, not your wife or the children. Their lives went on. Yours was the only one to have ended that night.”

“How can that be true? I searched all night for them. Kept searching until she convinced me of their deaths.” Moss dropped his head into his hands. Beth sensed how badly he wanted to believe the words she spoke. How much he needed to, but he feared letting go of the long-held obligation of guilt. Hell, he probably didn’t even know how to after all this time.

“Records in the courthouse prove their existence. Proof they went on to live full lives, and settled happily in this town. What I speak is the truth, and you needed — no,
deserved
to know.”

With those words, she turned on her heel and left, taking with her what little dignity she had left, though it felt more like it dragged along the floor behind her. Her heart hurt, her mind was muddled, and she just wanted to go home, cry, and curl up for a week. Sure, none of this shit had been her fault, but she understood what it must look like from his side. That still didn’t change the fact he’d acted like a grade-A pompous ass.

She hadn’t gone far when a faint scuffling sound began, and Damien’s voice called out for her. Mortification kicked in and she bolted. Ran from having to deal with any more accusations or confrontations. Ran from the man she thought she’d shared something phenomenal and different with.

Ran from everything she’d left back in that room. She couldn’t handle any more drama right now. It had all been too much, too fast.

Hell, she didn’t even know where she was running to; she just knew she wanted out of this damn cave and the hell away from both of the biggest male egos she’d ever met. So onward she continued, not caring how lost she might become. Anything would be better than having to face off with either of them again.

She rounded a corner so fast she didn’t realize there were no torches lighting this path, and before she could put the brakes on, she felt the ground disappear from beneath her feet. The strange, weightless feeling of falling kicked in. Day became night as she blindly reached outwards, clawing for anything she could grasp, and thankfully semi-landed on a shelf of sorts. She was afraid to move for fear she would fall again. She couldn’t see what she was on, or how big it was, and didn’t have any time to think about it before it crumbled beneath her in a scattering of loose rock and dirt.

She screamed in terror and heard a strange cracking just before the many brilliantly bright stars swarmed her vision and she fell into mental oblivion.

“You’re a fool, Moss. Beth was a victim of Octavia’s temper, and you damn well know it,” Damien hissed.

“What do
you
know about love? You’ve what? Loved the she-bitch for how long now and expect me to believe you got played?” Moss answered as rage bubbled forth. His fangs extended, and the scaled tattoos spread — a sure indication he anticipated launching into another physical altercation with his old acquaintance.

“You should understand more than anyone exactly how evil she is, my friend. I was young and stupid many a year ago. Much like you were, on the ill-fated night she found you. Oh, yeah, Moss. I know your story. Heard the tale of how she lured you farther and farther into the twisted swamps. I also get you followed her for reasons far from noble in nature.” Damien’s eyes had taken on a lethal glow, one that indicated he, too, still considered their brawl far from over.

“Whatever happened is none of your concern,” Moss spat, lunging forward, wanting nothing more than to rip Damien’s throat out.

“Hit a sore spot, did I?” Damien goaded, sidestepping Moss’s attack with ease. “Nothing pisses me off more than someone who had something special and was too stupid to know it. If you’re not going after her, I will. I did my duty, told you the truth, and if your head is too far up your Neanderthal ass, then so be it. Lucky me.”

Moss froze as Damien’s words sunk in.

“I can’t help but wonder if Beth knows the whole truth of that night?” Damien questioned.

Moss considered his options. Beat the hell out of Damien, which at the very least would make him feel better, or find Beth and attempt to sort out everything that had happened. He opted for Beth, stalking out to find her before she got herself into any more trouble. Or before he killed Damien, wiping the cocky smirk off his face permanently. He sensed Damien following and didn’t give a shit if the prick wanted to watch. Moss had every intention of finding Beth and carrying her the hell out of Damien’s lair. If Damien didn’t like it, Moss would deal with the cretin later. Beth belonged with him, and he had no intentions of sharing her with Damien or anyone else.

Now, he need only convince Beth of this.

They hadn’t gone far when she screamed. He heard the terror in it, then the most horrid sounding thud. But the terrifying silence that followed was worst of all. Her scream stopped as if cut with a knife. It had simply quit when the thud had.

All animosities tossed aside, he and Damien dashed toward where the scream had originated. He’d never been more frightened in his life. Not when the witch had cursed him, not even when he thought he’d let his wife down, allowing her to become lost. Yes, he’d loved her, but theirs had been an arranged marriage. They’d grown up together, had been friends, and he’d done what he thought expected of him. He’d cared for her, yes. Loved her so hard he lost his breath? No.

• • •

Beth brushed her hand across her forehead and wondered what the strange, damp, sticky stuff was that seemed to be matted on it. Bewildered, she tried to sit, and as her hands went to the floor to push herself up, one hand couldn’t seem to find the floor. She felt around and felt a rock ledge not far under her and only space beyond that.