Free Black Moon by Rebecca A. Rogers Page B

which brings them nose to nose. “You know what he wants us to do,” he hisses. “We can’t go against his will. Think of the repercussions for all involved if that takes place.”
    Ethan drops his head like the others. “I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
    His father doesn’t reply, except with his finger pointed toward the stairs. Ethan follows that imaginary line and disappears into the house above.
    “Benjamin, see to it she’s taken care of,” says Mr. Conway. The rest trail him beyond the basement. Cameron scowls at me before vanishing with the others.
    “Are you okay?” Ben asks, crouching. He examines my wounds, lightly running his fingers over certain marks. I recoil every time he touches me. “C’mon. Let’s clean you up.” He stands, waiting for me to follow. I’ve been lying here, inert, since Ethan knocked me over.
    Listening to him, I roll onto all fours. Sparks travel through my essence and numb me throughout. Tingling courses from my fingertips to my shoulders, and from my toes to my head, as the effect of being a werewolf wears off. Just as Ethan magically outfitted himself, the same happens to me.
    I gawk at the creation. “How does this work?”
    Ben clears his throat. “Um, if I want to craft or remove clothing, I have the ability.”
    “One of the Conway spells?”
    “Something like that.”
    I smirk. “So, what you’re saying is clothing’s optional when we’re together.”
    His cheeks radiate a fiery red. I’ve never seen him blush before. Then, salvaging his composure, he retorts, “Only if you want it to be. I mean, I can remove what you’re wearing now, if that’s a problem.”
    I shake my head. “Nope, no problem at all.”
    He lifts one eyebrow. “You sure? Because I—”
    “Promise. It’s fine, really.” I nod to show him I’m serious, and hopefully he’ll believe me. I don’t want to imagine what our meetings will be like if I’m naked. How humiliating!
    “Okay,” he says, but doesn’t sound certain. “I’ll run upstairs and grab some washcloths. Stay put.”
    Like I can go anywhere else . . .
    While waiting for his return, I think about how the hell I’m ever going to escape here, and how my friends and family better think of something quickly. I can’t spend another night in this Godforsaken prison.

    ~*~

    “So, storytelling time!” I wiggle my fingers in the air. Ben gapes at me like I’ve completely lost my intellectual capability. Maybe I have. This dark place will do that to anybody, I’m sure.
    “Take off your shirt,” he orders instead.
    “Um, wha —what?” I stammer. Surely, I misunderstood him.
    “Take. It. Off.” When I don’t move, he huffs. “I can’t treat your injuries if there’s no way to get to them. Either take it off or I’ll force it to disappear. Pick one.”
    Oh, no, no, no. This isn’t happening. I’m not about to show him the goods—not when anyone can barge in and see me!
    “You can stop the psychological wrestling and just do it,” he says. “It’s not like I haven’t seen them before.”
    “What?!”
    “Boobs.”
    I just . . . I can’t even . . .
    “Not yours. Ali’s,” he amends. “They’re pretty the same everywhere, just different sizes.”
    Oh my God. Stop it! I use my inner voice to communicate with him because my real voice would totally falter.
    His façade cracks, revealing his gorgeous pearlies in a spacious grin. “What’s wrong, Candra? I thought you liked teasing. Oh, wait—just dishing it out, not the taking part, right?”
    You are insane. Only crazy people would be having this conversation right now!
    Then call me crazy, but I’m serious. Remove your shirt.
    I pace back and forth debating whether this is right or wrong. My cuts do hurt, and they could potentially become infected if I remain in this grubby basement and don’t heal quickly enough. Ah, screw it!
    “ Thatta girl.”
    Turning my back toward him, I strip off my shirt, leaving myself half-undressed. He