She's a Blackwood

*Rowan*

It’s been days since I last spoke to King Solomon, and he hasn’t called to update me on the situation. It’s getting late; tomorrow night the moon will be full, and that means that my mate will go into heat.
I’m not sure what to do about it, but this will not be good. I really need to get her out of my house today.
It’s about lunchtime when I finally decide I've had enough of waiting. I pick up my phone and ring him. Marigold takes for fucking ever to answer, but when she does, she says, “Yes. Rowan?” like I’m interrupting her devouring a turkey sandwich.
“I need to speak to your boss,” I growl.
She clears her throat. “He’s busy right now.”
“Are we making this deal happen or what? I can’t continue to keep his bastard daughter under my roof. She’s revolting and smells like pig shit.”
“Well, we’ve put up with the awful stench of your sister for all these years. I suppose you can manage.” She’s just trying to get under my skin.
It works. “I’d be happy to take Mara off your hands. Now, tell your fucking boss I need an answer. Today. Or I’ll be shopping his little princess around to all the other kingdoms he fucked over. Maybe one of them would like to torment her and send her over to him piece by piece.” It has occurred to me that I might be able to leverage this a little faster if I did send him one of Hezzlie’s body parts–maybe a finger or a toe–but I haven’t done that. Yet.
“I will let him know you called.” She hangs up, and I do the same before dropping my head into my hands. I can’t continue to live like this, knowing my mate is down the hallway, that she’s about to go into heat, that the longing between the two of us is about to erupt into epic proportions, but I can’t have her.
‘Why not?’ my wolf asks. ‘Use her, abuse her, let her go. She’s our mate, after all.’
I find myself contemplating the possibilities, but I dismiss it. If I fuck her, I will want to keep her, and I can’t do that.
A knock on the door I identify as Dean’s has me distracted, at least for a little while, but when I call for him to come in, and he opens the door, I can sell Hezzlie. She’s quite far down the hallway, behind another closed door, but the sweet smell of her body going into heat wafts through the air anyway. I wonder if anyone else can smell it, or if it’s just me?
All the females in our castle will be going into heat with the full moon. That’s how it is every month. Well, all of the ones of childbearing age, anyway. But I can distinctly pick out the honeydew scent of Hezzlie’s arousal, coupled with that vanilla, strawberry fragrance I always smell when I’m around her.
Goddessdamnit, this is hard.
My dick twitches–it’s beginning to harden, too.
Thankfully, Dean sitting across from me makes that go away, at least to some extent. “I’ve got some information on Hezzlie’s mom.”
Now, he has my attention. “Go on.”
“Ann Stone was born to a fairly wealthy family. Her parents live in a major city about two hours from where we found Hezzlie. They didn’t approve of Ann getting pregnant and not going to college, so when they kicked her out of the house.”
I nod. None of this is new information to me. “And?”
“And… her mother’s maiden name was Teresa Blackwood.”
That has me leaning forward a bit. “Of the Raven Hollow Blackwoods?”
“We haven’t tracked that down yet, but I would say yes. I believe she’s a distant cousin of King Nestar.” Dean folds his hands in front of his face. “So… I think your hunch is probably right.”
“Interesting.” I lean back in my chair and ponder all of this information. The Blackwoods have ruled the kingdom of Raven Hollow for centuries. A small settlement to our southeast, it’s fairly far from Darksky, so I have to think this is a coincidence. I also don’t think King Solomon has any idea what we’re dealing with here–not yet anyway.
“We haven’t seen any of his men poking around yet, but that doesn’t mean he won’t. I’m sure he’s doing some sort of research. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be taking
“Do you think Ann knows?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “If she does, she’s kept it a secret.”
“Maybe she doesn’t realize that she’s not crazy either,” I reply.
“I don’t know. But… we could potentially use this information to get Mara back without giving up Hezzlie, you know,” he says.
I shake my head. “No.”
“But–”
“I said no!” I tell him, narrowing my eyes. “We’re not going to go down that path, Dean. It’s too risky. We need to get Mara back at all costs. She’s the only one that matters here.”
I see him stewing, notice how he’s twiddling his thumbs, and wonder if he’s about to blow up. “You’re a fucking psycho.” He’s calm, cool, and collected.
And I’m about to rip his Goddessdamn head off.
“Get the fuck out of my office.”
“Gladly.” He gets up and storms to the door as I consider what I can throw at him. When he gets there, he stops. “No one in their right mind would trade their fated mate away to the evil bastard that slaughtered their own father.”
“Yeah, well, I never claimed to be in my right mind. I’m getting my sister back! Nothing else matters!” I pick up a paperweight and launch it at him, but he’s too fast and disappears out the door as the glass paperweight hits the wall where his head was a moment ago and shatters into a thousand pieces, leaving a hole in the wall.
“Fuck!” I shout. It seems like that’s the most popular word in my vocabulary these days. I have to find a way to calm down.
‘So go fuck her,’ my wolf suggests.
“Go to hell,” I tell him aloud, listening to his wolfish cackle.
Dean does have a point, though. Blackwood witches are known to be very powerful. Even if Hezzlie’s mother is not a direct descendant of the current king, there’s a possibility that Hezzlie could be a powerful wolf, if she learned to control her power.
But then, she shifted for the first time almost a week ago, and I haven’t seen any indication that she has any powers. Generally speaking, wolf-witch hybrids are strong. There’s a possibility she doesn’t have any magical powers at all.
I can’t afford to give up an opportunity to get my sister back, and I can’t take a risk at trying to teach Hezzlie to use powers she may or may not have that, if she does have them, could potentially be used against me.
No, this is fucking stupid. I’ll just move forward with the plan as agreed upon. I go back to work, not even noticing when Wilma comes in to clean up the glass or when one of the maintenance workers fixes the hole in the wall. They’re used to me breaking stuff by now.
I’m just about done for the evening when I notice how bright the moon is. It’s nearly full and in such a position that silvery beams of light flood in through my open window. It’s beautiful. But it’s also dangerous. I set my pen aside and am about to order Wilma to go into Hezzlie’s bedroom and close the curtains when I realize that really won’t make that much of a difference anyway. Being directly in the moonlight makes a heat stronger, but it will find her no matter what. I hope she holds off for one more day.
I step out into the hallway and am immediately greeted by the thick musky smell of her sex hanging in the air. I close my eyes and breathe in its sweetness. I could just go down to her room right now and take her, and she’d beg me not to stop.
“No,” I tell myself, turning toward my bedroom.
Then I hear her voice calling out to me, “Rowan? God, Rowan, is that you?” as if she smells me, too. Her voice is heavy with need, and I can tell she can’t control herself because she doesn’t care if anyone else hears her.
“Please, Rowan? Please?” she continues. “Will you please come… fuck me?”
I take a deep breath and stop in my tracks, not sure which way to go. I can’t do it–but Goddess do I ever want to.