Dark Moon Boys (Love, Lust & Magic #2)

Pruitt

“Huh!?”

A burning sensation in his shoulder, ’s eyes shot open in the middle of the night as though in response to someone calling his name.

The cabin was quiet, as were the woods outside. Griff lay directly next to him, pushed up against his side as Uriah lay nearly on top of the witch, half-cradling him and half-smothering him. The sleeping vampire’s arm was draped across ’s chest. tried to imagine how Griff could even breathe in this position before gently pulling Uriah’s arm off of him. The vampire clicked his lips together as though muttering in his sleep and rolled over, off of Griff, and finally to the empty side of the bed.

A smile on his face as he admired his sleeping lovers, ’s train of thought was interrupted as he once again felt a sharp sting from the bite. “Damn,” he whispered to himself as he sat up.

Soon enough, the werewolf found himself digging through the medicine cabinet behind the bathroom mirror. Though he had never taken it before, he figured now was as good a time as any to try some ibuprofen. Didn’t exist when I was only human, but seems to work for them, he thought to himself as he downed several pills and followed them up with a handful of water from the sink. I think that’s how they take it, right?

placed his hands on either side of the sink vanity, emitting a deep sigh as he focused in on the pain. In the weeks following their win against Odessa, the memories that she had stolen from him were slowly coming back in waves. While they weren’t all good, they weren’t bad, either. He felt a deeper connection to Mystic Hollow than he ever had before—even the smell of the forest they were staying in this weekend was familiar to him. My old stomping grounds in wolf form. Where I ran with the wild packs—where I created my own pack. At least I think so, anyway.

He recalled his erotic late-night shower with Uriah just a few hours before, and the wolves in the forest earlier in the night. Were they familiar to him? What was it about tonight that was triggering this flood of memories?

As closed the cabinet, he came face-to-face with his own reflection. But that wasn’t what he noticed.

The wolf bite was gone now, and the walls behind him looked different. The flicker of a fireplace illuminated traditional log cabin siding that appeared much older than what he remembered. When he turned around to investigate, it appeared like he was in another home altogether. One much smaller, much more dated, and with no shower in sight. He spun back around to see only a small wash basin next to a wooden-framed, freestanding mirror.

“Mr. Mondamin,” a soft, familiar voice spoke to him.

Who is that?

Dressed in an eighteenth century peacoat, waistcoat, and breeches, Griff stood at the open front door of the cabin. His silk stockings, cotton shirt with ruffled cuffs, and neckcloth seemed to suggest they were in another era—and that Griff, or whoever he was envisioning as Griff, was part of the upper class of the time.

Seventeen-hundreds or not— hell, Griff or not —the man calling to him was as desirable as ever to . “Griffin?”

The man smiled a warm smile, closing the door behind him before approaching the confused—and still naked—werewolf.

“You tempt me with your body exposed as it is,” the man chuckled, wrapping his slender arms around ’s broad shoulders.

Savoring the embrace, ’s eyes closed—it felt like home, like Griff—but it wasn’t. There was a smell to him reminiscent of Griff, but not the same. Some kind of unique magical aroma that was euphoric and addictive all at once.

“I’ve been doing my best to send you updates, and I’m so glad you waited for me,” the man said with one last squeeze before stepping back. He moved to a series of hooks on the opposite wall and began to undress, hanging his jacket and neckcloth up, carefully unbuttoning his shirt, and removing and folding his pants. “The full moon is near again, and this time I think I’ve figured out how we harness its power.”

“F-full moon?” asked, placing his hands sheepishly over his loins as he shuffled around the room searching for coverage.

“Yes. It’s but a day away now, and I know how much you loathe its control over you,” the man said as he pulled off his stockings. “I spent last night communing with the forest—here in Howling Timbers, as the wild wolves I’ve enchanted to speak to us call it—and I believe I’ve found a way to allow you to access and control your powers no matter the phase of the moon.”

Wait a second, thought to himself. I’ve always been able to turn at will, haven’t I? All werewolves can after their first full moon. But this—it sounds familiar.

As the familiar stranger began removing the last of his undergarments, felt a wave of shame for watching and spun around and faced the nearest corner of the cabin, an empty space between a bed and the crackling fireplace. “Oh! Um, sorry.”

“Don’t be shy, Mr. Mondamin,” came the man’s soft voice from behind him. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

As slowly turned around, he kept his eyes closed. Even though this felt like a dream, or a memory, or a dream of a memory, it was hard for him to be anything but a gentleman.

“Look at me, please.”

winced, his eyelids fluttering. He slowly opened one eye, then the other.

This version of Griff now stood before him naked. recognized every curve and detail—from his thin forearms to the small bulges of his biceps, his smooth and slim chest and stomach to the light hairs on his legs, even the bare skin of his more muscular, curvy glutes.

“Absence, distance, longing—all things that affect our memories as human vessels,” Griff began as he slowly walked to .

As many similarities as there were, noticed differences, too, and they became more apparent as Griff drew near the light of the fire. The first was one detail that almost convinced he was back with the witch lover he had fallen asleep next to that night: a long pendant necklace with both a silver chain and charm. The medallion was a similar size to Griff’s rose-shaped heirloom, but it was instead crafted to resemble the head of a wolf. Two blue diamonds—with hues that seemed to shift and change as though magically imbued—were inset into the wolf’s eyes, giving the appearance that the creature was watching with every step.

Across the porcelain skin of the approaching man’s collarbone were four red marks that perfectly resembled the claws of a wolf. As felt the warmth of Griff’s body draw close, he was overcome with a familiarity lovers might feel as they embrace. The tension overwhelmingly felt like home, though knew not to trust it as such. The thin claw lines had scarred perfectly, almost purposefully, but appeared much too large to have been given by the wild wolves of the forest. Placing his hand on them, they seemed to fit perfectly with the size of his hand. knew it to be true, even if he wasn’t in his wolf form.

“Mr. Mondamin… The voices of the forest spoke to me. They promised me you’ll not be alone. That your creation is not a curse by some selfish witch, but a blessing meant to herald in a new age of magic.”

“My creation,” repeated softly. “My curse.”

Griff moved to place his hand on the werewolf’s face, but grabbed it before he could. The men stared at one another, both searching for something. Griff smiled, but the story unfolding in his eyes was a sad, painful one.

“I-I’m still remembering,” cautioned. “Who are you?”

Griff nodded knowingly, a lone teardrop falling down his face. “Someone who cares for you.”

furrowed his eyebrows, his mind racing as the recognizable features of Griff began to gently fade away. His grip on Griff’s hand softened, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he pulled both of their hands to his chest.

“Someone who would do anything for you to remember,” whispered Griff as his voice changed, becoming deeper, but still so familiar. Griff’s hair shifted from its longer chestnut brown to a shorter light blonde. “Someone who knows it’s better now that perhaps you never do.”

The image of the man changed back to one of Griff, the new necklace and scars remaining. let go of Griff’s hand.

“By the powers given to me by Lycegenes, hear this plea,” Griff said softly, running his hand affectionately across the back of ’s head, “I challenge the curse of the wolf’s moon by bestowing to the brothers of Delphi these sacraments three.”

The quarterback hesitated. Is he using witchcraft? What’s going on?

“No limits on the powers of lycanthropy,” Griff added as ’s eyes changed to the amber color of his werewolf form.

“What? I—” began, stopping as Griff gently pressed a finger against his lips.

“The bounty of my magic split throughout your family tree,” Griff chanted, pulling his hands away as a blue hue pulsated from his fingertips.

Whispers with no known origin swirling through ’s head shook him to his core. The feeling was unsettling at first, causing him to grab his head and kneel. His vision blurred, and he could see Griff reaching to console him.

tumbled forward, tripping over the bed and falling to the floor. He quickly regained his footing, his ears ringing as he ran to the door Griff had entered minutes before. He pulled it open, gasping for air as he fell into a foliage of fall leaves.

What felt like an eternity was only several seconds. The sounds were silenced completely as Griff cuffed ’s chin in his hand. It was then that he realized where they were—the same woods where earlier today he defended the real Griff from unknown werewolves.

’s eyes welled with tears now, too, as he could now only hear—could now only feel—the thoughts of the man before him.

“And for the First Werewolf,” Griff’s voice cracked as he looked from to the sea of eyes that now surrounded them in the coming dusk, “a life of eternity.”

heard now what Griff saw, the sound of a hundred wolves crying to the skies above. He shuddered, his eyes wide with amazement as the wild creatures made a circle around them and the cabin.

Words were lost on him, but could tell that in whatever dream state or memory he had found himself in, time was moving differently. “W-why?” he finally asked.

“I was an outsider to my kind, like you. You— they ,” Griff gestured to the wolves that surrounded them, “showed me another way. Love, compassion, empathy. The ways of the pack.”

couldn’t be sure why, but a hot sensation of sadness ran up from his chest through his face. “Why are you showing me this now?” he cried and yelled all at once, tears flowing.

“Because you are more than just a magical familiar,” Griff replied solemnly. “And the day of reckoning for all werewolves fast approaches.”

“What does that mean?” asked, his hands shuffling through the leaves on the ground. “How does this involve me? Involve Griff?”

’s extrasensory perception picked up the thoughts of the familiar witch before him. ?It would kill me to see your heart break again.?

“Wh-what happens to you?” he asked.

This version of Griff seemed to know the answer to the question, a grim expression crossing his face. “Odessa will be here soon. She already knows what I’ve done. You have to go.”

“Odessa?” shook his head. “N-no. In my time, we’ve stopped her.”

“In this time, she stops me,” said Griff. “Don’t let my sacrifice be for nothing. I’ll live on—my powers, at least—in your lineage and legacy.”

Griff’s voice filled ’s head. ?There are those lycans who will abuse this power. They seek to bring me back, to fulfill a false prophecy, but there is a greater evil they will bring with it.?

?What do you mean, bring you back? Greater evil? What?? shook his head.

?Find the Wolf with Two Powers before they do, Mr. Mondamin.?

“Wait,” rolled to his knees, using his hands to pull himself to his feet. By the time he turned around, the image of Griff and the wolves was gone. He was standing in the woods, naked and alone.

“ Mondamin, you absolute dog.”

The familiar voice of Uriah drew back to reality. He stretched and yawned before opening his eyes. He quickly realized he had slept much later than he thought. The soft glow of the sun just barely peeked out from the pulled curtains.

The vampire stood in the doorway wearing only a pair of boxer briefs, his signature devious grin across his lips. “Good morning, stallion.”

“Morning, Riah,” groaned. “What’s up?”

“Little witch is in the shower,” Uriah continued. “You want me to suck a quick one out of you again like last night?”

couldn’t tell if he was serious or not. His morning wood popped out from the fitted sheet he was wrapped under, but he quickly tucked it away. “As awesome as that was, Riah, I have to say I’m exhausted. Something about this bite, man. And I just had the wildest dream.”

Uriah came close, sitting next to on the bed as he examined the bite mark. “Well, I can’t say it looks any better. Do you mind?” Before realized what was happening, the vampire sniffed the wound. “Hm, interesting.”

“What’s interesting?” asked, sitting up in bed.

“No infection smell or anything. No rotting flesh smell, either.” Uriah ran his hand through his beard. “Almost smells like another wolf.”

“Well, that’s because another wolf gave it to me.”

“Yeah, you’re right. But you showered, we cleaned it, the whole nine yards, right?”

nodded, looking down at the bite.

Uriah came closer, smelling him again. He then moved down ’s shoulder to his chest, his biceps and forearm, his armpits, and finally his stomach. shivered as he felt the slight tickle of Uriah’s soft beard against his skin. “Not creepy or anything,” he said as he gave Uriah a confused look.

“It’s just—hm, yeah,” Uriah shrugged. “Kinda smells like how Griff did when he got dropped off.”

“Haven Hemming, huh?” asked.

Uriah nodded, but it was Griff—wearing only a towel around his waist and standing in the doorway—who replied. “What about him?”

Uriah shrugged, looking to .

“Riah is saying that my bite smells like him. That I smell like him.”

“So, what?” Griff asked, dropping the towel as he made his way to the nearby dresser and rummaged through it. “We think he’s a werewolf?”

and Uriah lost their train of thought as they admired Griff’s body. “Uh, um…“ Uriah stuttered. shoved his elbow into Uriah’s side to suggest that he focus. “Shit, well, maybe. Say, Griff, you think Pru’s been acting any different?”

“Hm?” Griff turned around to face them both, a jockstrap in hand. He bent over and stepped into the loops before pulling it up.