Trial by Heart (Trial Series Book 4) (11 page)

This time, it slashes my left forearm and begins stabbing me in the arm.

I give a cry a pain and struggle once more to subdue the possessed hand. Hot pain shoots through me, and blood makes my skin too slippery to hold. Torn between pain and terror, I fight myself while blood splatters everywhere around me.

I don’t register Ben’s presence until his large hand grips the wrist of my knife hand and the other closes around the gash in my forearm that’s gushing blood.

At once, Erish releases me from his twisted demonstration of how dangerous he is.

“Son of a bitch!” Tears of pain are in my eyes, but I’m furious this time rather than sad. I fight Ben, too upset to care he’s trying to help, and wanting so badly to beat the shit out of Erish.

Ben’s grip tightens on my arms.

“Leslie, we need to stop the bleeding.” His low voice is commanding yet calm and pierces my enraged fit.

Blinking away tears, I register his warm frame behind me, trapping me between his muscular body and the counter. He’s holding the largest of my wounds closed, and blood squeezes out between his fingers. With his other hand, he’s disarmed me. I can feel my hand again.

His heat moves through me with the effect of taking a bath, and I find myself relaxing from his touch without consciously trying to.

“I didn’t do this!” I blurt out, my over sensitivity to him returning. “Erish … that dick … he just …” I want to scream out of pain and anger.

“It has a name?” Ben asks.

I take a couple shuddering breaths. Ben isn’t moving, as if he’s waiting for me to calm down first. I rest my head back on his chest and twist my face to see his profile. His heavy features are befitting someone who is more beast than man. The longer I stand, pressed against him, the easier it is to believe I’m safe, even from Erish.

“Yeah,” I reply when I’ve reined in some of my emotion. “God, that hurts!”

“What prompted this?” Ben releases my right hand and grabs a towel. He wraps it around my left forearm and lifts it above my head.

“Fighting,” I reply vaguely, not about to admit we were arguing over
him.
“I didn’t know he could do that. Take over my body.” I shudder.

“The curse is powerful, but it’s manageable.”

“Manageable?” I repeat in surprise.

Ben gives me a small smile. “Yeah. Alpha, remember?”

If I weren’t in pain, I’d laugh.

What’s more: I believe him. If anyone can handle Erish, it’s Ben.

The werewolf leader eases back from me and scoops me up into his arms. “Keep that arm over your head,” he directs me. “I’ll call Jason.” He walks out of the kitchen and down the hallway, carrying me with ease.

Pain is edged aside by another emotion at the demonstration of his effortless strength.

I keep my arm up and stare at my bare legs, wishing I’d thought to put on pants. I couldn’t have known Erish was going to attack me with my own body.

The shadow is completely silent as it trails us to the living room, where Ben sinks down onto the couch with me in his lap. One of his arms remains around me, and he lifts my forearm above his head once more before grabbing his phone.

Do I move or … not?

Like his brother, he doesn’t seem to have much of a sense of personal space. Not today, at least, even if he’s carefully kept his distance before this.

After a moment of agonizing debate, I shift on his lap without leaving it and drape an arm around his neck to balance. His call to Jason is quick, and he lowers the phone. Reaching for my arm, he wraps his hand around the toweled wound and squeezes.

The pressure dressing is probably needed but at the moment, I can’t help gazing at his gorgeous eyes and taut, golden skin of his face, inches from mine. His heat and strength have completely drained, or calmed?, my fear and the turmoil of feeling I normally experience. His touch banishes the storm inside me. Should I be grateful or freaked out by that?

My gaze trails down his thick neck to his muscular shoulders.

“I ruined your clothes,” I murmur, frowning. He’s in dress pants and an open-necked white dress shirt, as if he were getting ready to put on a tie when he heard me freaking out.

“I can buy more,” he says and meets my gaze.

Too. Close. His direct look sends heat spiking through me and pooling at the base of my belly. Being in his arms makes it impossible to escape to the forest or even to look away.

“Tell me about the curse,” he directs me with another of his soft commands.

Ensnared by his silvery eyes, it takes a minute for his words to reach my brain.

“What do you want to know?” I ask.

“Everything.”

I hesitate, recalling the secrecy that’s always shrouded the trials and Kingmaker Curse. By revealing everything to him, do I make things worse? Is it a mistake to believe anyone, even Ben, can truly end two thousand years of suffering?

No. This truth I know to my bone. Ben isn’t the problem.

My fear is the problem. I don’t want him to think worse of me, if that’s even possible at this point, and I don’t want him to hear the truth and decide that either I’m not worth saving, or it’s pointless to try to break the curse.

Maybe
hope
is my problem, not fear. I’m not really sure.

If I share the trials with him, my struggles and fear, I’m inviting someone into my world, and I don’t know if I’m ready for voluntary intimacy after a life lived in isolation from supernaturals and humans. It was different with the candidates, because I could blame magic for effecting my judgment, decisions and emotions. I don’t have that crutch now, and once the truth is out there, I can’t remove Ben from my life.

My thoughts turn to Myca and how I’ll never accept his death as necessary.

The hot pain in my arm and my twisted emotions are nothing compared to what happens to those I care about. If they’re strong enough to enter the trials knowing they’re all doomed, I’m strong enough to invite someone into my world to help me.

Ben waits patiently, one hand keeping my arm from bleeding out and his other arm around me to keep me steady on his lap.

“You sure you want to know?” I warn him. “You might change your mind.”

“I’m not going anywhere, Leslie.”

My throat tightens, and I swallow hard. “Pinkie swear?” I joke lamely and hold out my pinky.

Ben smiles, and I sense the werewolf alpha has never had to pinkie swear anyone in his life. “Pinkie swear.” He entwines his finger with mine briefly.

The sense of being exposed is back, along with the flutter of awareness I shouldn’t be experiencing after my terrible morning. It’s mixed with the uncertainty I’ve been fighting every step of the way along the trials.

“Okay.” I draw a deep breath. I can do this. I can trust him. After all, I definitely need the help.

Why am I silently freaking out?

Chapter Eight

I tell him everything I know: what the Book of Secrets has revealed, the contents of my father’s letters, and everything Erish has ever claimed – truth or lie.

It’s surprisingly easy to pour out all that I’ve been twisted up over. Ben listens without speaking, his gaze on mine, his solid frame a buffer between Erish and me. I can’t read him and start to tense again, needing to know what he’s thinking, if he’s certain about not backing out of this disaster. As much as I want to be strong and plow through with my plan, I can’t handle losing anyone else or being ditched after opening up like this.

I finish just as Jason walks into the living room with his medic bag in one hand. Any chance I have to ask Ben what he’s thinking is gone when Jason crouches beside us.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” he says with a quick smile.

Grateful for the interruption, I roll my eyes at him. “Send the bill to your brother.”

“No bills among family.”

I open my mouth to retort that I’m not family and never will be then decide against it. Jason apologized for his letter. I don’t know that his opinion has changed, but it won’t matter in a few days anyway. I’d rather not pick a fight with the person who’s about to stitch me up. Again.

Ben releases my arm. I grimace when Jason unwraps the makeshift bandage.

“This looks like a knife wound,” Jason observes. He glances at me curiously.

“I got in a fight with a breakfast sandwich,” I snap. “It happens.”

“Anyone ever tell you it’d be wise for you to avoid sharp objects?” he retorts.

“Are you this lippy with all your patients?”

He laughs.

Ben is smiling.

“I think you’re getting the big needle today.” Jason pulls a syringe from his bag.

“I hate needles.” I lean my head back against Ben’s shoulder and stare at the ceiling. The scent of astringent makes my nose wrinkle. Jason cleans up the wound quickly before shooting me up with something to numb the pain while he stitches the gash and checks the smaller stab wounds.

When he’s done, he bandages my arm snuggly.

I test my arm. The skin is numb, and my whole limb feels heavy.

Jason packs up his things and stands. “Good luck,” he tells Ben then winks at me.

I ignore him.

The moment he’s gone, the tension between Ben and me returns, this time thicker. I’m not only half naked in his arms, but I’ve also told him enough about the curse to send any rational person running. Clearing my throat, I shift off his lap carefully, doing my best not to flash him in the short t-shirt, and stand.

Walking towards the hallway slowly, I rack my mind for something to say. What I really want to know – if the revelations about the curse freaked him out – I can’t bring myself to ask. The need to talk to him, to hear he hasn’t changed his mind, that I’m not going to find myself alone with this, agitates me to the point I have to say
something.

“Do you have any hobbies? Aside from watching movies and breaking curses?” I ask.

It’s a stupid question, and I face him when I reach the hallway, debating if I should just run to my room or wait for his answer.

Ben is on his feet and peeling off the bloody dress shirt to reveal the snug white t-shirt beneath. It hugs his biceps, shoulders and hints at the muscles of his chest. This man is perfect, from his silver eyes to his flat abs and lean thighs to the sense he’s the only person I’ve ever met who has his shit together.

“Yeah,” he answers, gaze flickering to mine. “Do you want to see?”

If it involves him removing more clothing, then the answer is obviously yes.

I nod. “But, um … later. You look like you’re dressed for a meeting.”

“Circumstances have changed.” Is he amused?

“Sorry about that,” I mutter, face hot.

“There’s good to be taken from it. I think I figured out something about Erish,” he replies.

“Aside from the fact he’s a raging nutcase?”

“Go change.” The alpha lifts his chin in one of his quiet commands. “Meet me out back.”

I don’t want to be, but I’m intrigued.

Returning to my room, I sigh as I close the door behind me. I’m a little dizzy from blood loss and general anxiety. Fortunately, I have no knives in my room.

“You’re a total asshole, Erish,” I hiss to him and then cross the room, whipping off the t-shirt. “If Ben has to wrestle me down every ten minutes because you’re trying to take over my body …”

That image stops me in my tracks.

“Okay. Maybe you
should
try to take over my body,” I decide, unusually aroused by the idea of Ben holding me down.

“Fuck you, Leslie,” Erish replies acidly.

I raise my eyebrows. “Oh, is someone pissed because he couldn’t
murder
me?” I demand.

“I wouldn’t murder you. You need to learn your place in all this.”

Asshole. I go to the bathroom for a quick and awkward shower to wash off the blood without getting my bandages wet. My clothes are clean and on the bed when I’m done, and I change quickly. Part of me is afraid to be alone too long with Erish while another part of me is eager to see Ben again.

“Do you plan on trying to possess me again anytime soon?” I ask Erish as I tie my shoes. “I thought you couldn’t with the amulet.”

“I was testing it.”

“And?” I sit up and wait.

He’s quiet.

Dread sinks into my stomach. In truth, he doesn’t need to control my entire body. If he’d been quicker with my hand, he could’ve ripped off my amulet easily then finished his possession unopposed.

If Ben is the key to helping me break the curse, then can he do something to help me stop Erish? Something other than holding me down if Erish gains control?

Disturbed by my morning and the curse’s demonstration of power, I meet Ben behind the house. My gaze sweeps over his body once more. He’s dressed in jeans that display his thick thighs and a long t-shirt that’s snug everywhere I want it to be.

“How’s the arm?” he asks.

“Fine.” Some feeling is returning. It’s more of a dull throb than sharp pain, though I imagine later, I’ll be hurting. “I’m so sorry about that, Ben.”

“It was definitely not how I planned to start my day,” he admits with one of his half smiles. “But it confirms a theory I’ve had.”

“Don’t tell me if you don’t want Erish to know,” I say quickly.

“I want him to know.” The gleam in his eyes is one of resolve. “Erish released you when I touched you, didn’t he?”

I nod.

“And the Kingmaker’s intended mate is the candidate killed in every trial.”

“You think being around you weakens him?”

“I do. I think there’s only one thing stronger than the curse: the reason he gave up everything in the first place.”

The woman he loved. Erish destroyed his world for love.

Why does this make me warm and tingly? Ben and I don’t know each other well enough for the L-word to be in play. But, since my husband is supposed to be fated, maybe that’s all it takes: for him to survive the trials with me.

“What started this mess is also the key to stopping it,” I murmur. “And since you aren’t officially part of the trials, you don’t have to follow the rules and leave me alone this week as is tradition.”

“We have to do it together,” Ben agrees.