Cursed E-Book

Rhianne Aile

• Herausgeber: Dreamspinner Press
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 349

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2007

Beschreibung

Upon their grandmother's death, Tristan Northland and his twin, Will, inherit her Book of Shadows and discover that one of their ancestors, a spurned witch, is responsible for dark magic that has affected the Sterling family for generations: Your firstborn son shall know the lure of the night and the lust of the moon... he will become a creature of nightmares... until the true love that should have been, finally is. Determined to right the ancient wrong, Tristan sets off across the ocean to reverse the centuries-old curse. Benjamin Sterling might not be happy alone—not quite human, nor accepted by true werewolves—but his life is predictable, at least until Tristan Northland shows up in his office, unannounced and with nowhere to stay. Because of the curse he carries, Benjamin has plenty of reason to distrust witches and Northlands as well as the werewolf tribe that has always treated him as an outcast. But with Tristan at his side, Benjamin finds himself and his future transformed by two unexpected emotions: blooming hope and enduring love.

Leseprobe

Cursed

By Rhianne Aile

Upon their grandmother’s death, Tristan Northland and his twin, Will, inherit her Book of Shadows and discover that one of their ancestors, a spurned witch, is responsible for dark magic that has affected the Sterling family for generations: Your firstborn son shall know the lure of the night and the lust of the moon… he will become a creature of nightmares… until the true love that should have been, finally is. Determined to right the ancient wrong, Tristan sets off across the ocean to reverse the centuries-old curse.

Benjamin Sterling might not be happy alone—not quite human, nor accepted by true werewolves—but his life is predictable, at least until Tristan Northland shows up in his office, unannounced and with nowhere to stay. Because of the curse he carries, Benjamin has plenty of reason to distrust witches and Northlands as well as the werewolf tribe that has always treated him as an outcast. But with Tristan at his side, Benjamin finds himself and his future transformed by two unexpected emotions: blooming hope and enduring love.

Table of Contents

Blurb

Dedication

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Epilogue

Keep Reading

About the Author

By Rhianne Aile

More from Rhianne Aile

Visit Dreamspinner Press

Copyright

To Cat

Chapter 1

Today ~ London

TRISTAN NORTHLAND moved around his room picking things up and depositing them in the open suitcase on the bed. He paused to skim the contents: clothes, shoes, his grandmother’s Book of Shadows, his own leather-bound journal and a small intricately carved wooden box that contained various stones, crystals and a few precious tools carefully wrapped in silk. He had an entire armoire of spell materials and reference books that stood in the corner of his workroom, but he couldn’t transport everything he might need across the ocean. What he had packed was indispensable. He was fairly certain he could find the rest of what he needed in New York.

William walked into the room, watching his brother lost in thought as he stared into his suitcase. “If it were me, there would be at least six bags.”

Tristan’s reverie snapped and he laughed at his twin, pulling him into a tight hug and touching their foreheads together, their dark curls falling forward like a curtain, shielding the private moment. “I think your hair has gotten even longer than mine,” Will commented. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Tristan zipped the suitcase closed, sitting on the bed beside it. “I really don’t feel like I have a choice. Our ancestor is responsible for the Sterling family bearing a terrible, terrible curse for almost half a millennium. If there is even a slight chance I can break it, I have to try.”

“You should at least write first. See if he wants you to come.”

Tristan shook his head. “No. I don’t want to give him the chance to say no. He has much reason to distrust the Northland family name. I’m hoping it will be harder to turn me away to my face than to shred a letter.”

Pulling his twin to his feet, William hugged Tristan close. “Be careful. I fear what would happen to me if I lost the other half of my soul.”

Tristan looked seriously into his brother’s eyes. They had always been closer than normal siblings or even twins, reading each other’s thoughts and feelings. They shared the blessing of their grandmother’s gifts. William had the sight and Tristan the ability to channel the power of natural elements. They were the first set of twins to be born into the Northland family since the pair that had cursed the Sterling line. It seemed poetically just that one of them would break the curse, just as one of the first set had cast it.

1668 ~ New York Colony

Edward Northland ran through the woods, shaking and sweating with fear. The scent of dark magic was thick in the air. He could feel his twin’s anger, her broken heart hardened by the betrayal of her lover. Praying he would be in time, he followed the magnetic pull of powerful magic.

“Please, please, do not do this,” he beseeched his twin through their bond, praying to an impressive list of deities to intercede before it was too late. Anne had always scoffed at his love of books and research, having a much more natural approach to their gifts. The trees thinned as he approached the clearing, allowing the silver light of midsummer’s full moon to fall to the forest floor. He could hear his sister’s voice, harsh and cold, so unlike her usual jovial tone. The smoke coming from the clearing was so heavy with the scent of herbs and dark magic that his eyes burned. He gasped as her chanting to raise power turned into the words of an intricately designed curse.

“Anne, no!” he called, but she did not heed him. She stood in the center of the clearing, surrounded twice by circles of stones and trees. He fell to his knees, unwilling to break her circle of protection. With the evil powers she was calling, to leave her unprotected almost assuredly meant her death. His eyes drifted to her belly swollen with child. What would the evil she was raising do to the innocent, unborn babe? “You will curse us all!” he yelled in desperation.

“He deserves eternal damnation. One life isn’t enough pain. I’ll curse him as he’s cursed us,” Anne replied. Picturing the face of her lover in the flames leaping from the cauldron in front of her, she dropped a handkerchief bearing his seed into the fire, followed by a handful of carefully blended herbs. With a quick, precise motion, she cut the palm of her hand, adding her blood. “Rage for rage, pain for pain, life for life, blood for blood,” she spoke, swaying and stroking her belly.

“Anne, please! Don’t do this!”

“As our babe shall walk alone, tainted by a curse not of his making, so shall yours,” Anne continued, ignoring her twin’s pleading. Edward was a man and a man had captured her heart, crushing it to dust with a twist of his heel as he promised to marry another. “As he shall be shunned, so shall yours.”

Edward searched his pockets. Blessing his habit of always carrying his journal and charcoal, he began to write. Perhaps, in his books, he could find something to undo the terrible wrong being done.

“Your firstborn son shall know the lure of the night and the lust of the moon,” Anne intoned, looking up at the silver disc hanging full in the black sky, tears streaming down her face. “As shall his son, and his son’s son, for as long as the Sterling seed produces heirs.”

Edward searched around him frantically during her pauses, gathering branches of rowan, poplar and willow and scattering them around the circle, whispering words of protection, hoping they might shield some of the force of the spell.

“From sunset of the first full moon that a Sterling becomes a man, the beast shall take him, blood will be his wine, hunger will fill his soul, and he will become a creature of nightmares. He will know a woman’s lust but never a woman’s love and he will have no peace as he searches for his heart’s desire. Thus it shall be, thus it shall remain, until the true love that should have been, finally is. So mote it be.”

Edward laid down his journal, staring at Anne as she grounded the power she had raised and released the circle. He couldn’t believe she had acted so vindictively. She knew the dangers of throwing out a spell to harm another, especially when done in anger. The curse would fall back on Anne threefold, but because of her pain, she had ignored all of their grandmother’s careful teaching. Edward knew that because she had cursed the entire Sterling line, it would fall back on their entire family. He could almost hear the desperate heartbroken screams of innocents not yet born.

Anne walked toward him, her eyes full of hate and triumph.

“You haven’t won, sister,” Edward said, getting to his feet and brushing leaves from his clothes. “You have damned us all. How could you do this?”

“How could I? Ask that of the one that stole my heart as well as my innocence.”

Edward closed his journal, slipping it into his pocket, shaking his head.

“What have you there?” Anne asked, her eyes flashing.

“I’ve recorded your words in the hope of finding a way to break the curse.”

“You must destroy it,” Anne ordered. “’Tis proof of black magic. We will both be burned.”

“Nay, Sister, I will hide it well and study it in secret, but whatever the consequences of this night, we will both accept them. The only hope of undoing the evil you have wrought is on this page. If I should fail, maybe someone smarter than I will succeed in the future.”

Today ~ New York

BENJAMIN STERLING paced the length of his office, stopping to stare out the window at the moon already visible in the late afternoon sky. The full moon was still a week away, but he was already beginning to feel the pull. He needed to finish with his work in the city and get back to his country estate where he could hunt at night without fear of discovery.

Penelope Marsden, his assistant, slid into the room unobtrusively, waiting silently to be acknowledged.

“Yes, Penny?” Benjamin asked, returning to his desk and rifling through the papers covering the surface in a halfhearted attempt to get his mind to focus.

“There is a young man outside to see you, sir. He says he has come from London and won’t leave without speaking to you personally.”

“I don’t see anyone without an appointment,” Benjamin snapped.

“I told him that, sir. He said to tell you that his name was Northland.”

Every hair on Benjamin’s body stood up. He had never actually met anyone from the Northland family line, but it was unlikely to be a coincidence given the circumstances. When he was younger, he had read every scrap of documentation he could find in a useless attempt to discover a cure for the curse he carried. Letters, diaries and detailed descriptions of the lengths his ancestors had gone to, to rid themselves of the disease that afflicted them had led him to decide that there was no “cure.” From that point on, he had dedicated his efforts to making his life as normal as possible, amassing the wealth necessary to allow him to travel at will, own several homes and hundreds of acres of land.

During his research, he had examined the town and church records thoroughly, but it appeared that after the witch, Anne Northland, had died in childbirth, her twin had disappeared off the face of the earth. Only to have his ancestor turn back up again today, apparently, Benjamin mused. Realizing that Penny was still waiting patiently for instruction, he sat back in his chair. “Send him in.”

Penny was paid well to show nothing but businesslike efficiency. Her personal opinions about her boss’s odd behavior she kept carefully to herself. After gliding through the polished mahogany door, she returned moments later with a slender young man in tow. “Mr. Tristan Northland, sir,” she intoned before retreating and closing the door behind her.

Benjamin’s first reaction was that his visitor’s name fit him; unique, old-fashioned and slightly romantic. The young man’s scent tickled his nose, causing his body to react in a surprising way. He smelled of trees, moss and the leaf litter of the deep forest, making Benjamin want to bury his nose against his throat and breathe deeper. He was tall and slender, but you could see the sinewy muscles that covered his limbs. Possibly the most striking detail, though, was the matching chestnut color of his eyes and the hair that fell well past his shoulders, curling in gentle spirals from the band that attempted to tame it.

Tristan fidgeted, still standing just inside the door, unsure what to do next. “Ah… thank you for seeing me. I realize hopping on a plane without calling first was probably not the most responsible decision I’ve ever made, but I was desperate to be able to talk with you and I was….”

Benjamin smelled the fear rolling off of the young man and could see his pulse fluttering rapidly at the base of his throat. He hated it, but he always had a visceral response to fear. His body was screaming “Attack!”, and he wanted nothing more than to close his teeth over that rapidly beating pulse. “Do you always babble when you’re nervous?” he asked matter-of-factly, trying to ignore the signals his visitor was unconsciously sending. If he could put the young man at ease, the fear response and corresponding bloodlust would lessen.

Tristan sputtered to a stop, a disarming grin lighting up his face, making him insufferably more beautiful. “Yeah, actually, I do. Sorry. Will—my brother—says I’m not good at hiding my feelings, leave them right out on my sleeve for anyone to see.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Benjamin murmured, walking around his desk toward the sideboard that held a collection of crystal decanters. “Just don’t take up poker. Have a seat, Mr. Northland,” he said, gesturing toward a cluster of tobacco-colored leather chairs. “Would you like a drink?”

“Um… no. Thank you. I’m not much of a drinker. It makes the babbling worse, I’m afraid.” Tristan grinned again, shrugging as he lowered his lissome frame into one of the chairs.

Benjamin poured himself a generous portion of scotch and selected the seat across from his unexpected guest. One of the side effects of the disease was an increased metabolism. He could drink just about anyone under the table, feeling very few effects himself, a fact that had worked to his advantage during many six-martini business dinners. It was more the feel of the heavy glass in his hand, the slightly smoky smell of the scotch and the smooth feel of it as it traveled across his tongue that he found soothing.

“So Mr. Northland, you have flown a great distance and been granted an audience. Do I get to know why you are here?”

“Oh, yes, of course. Can we dispense with the Mr. Northland? Mr. Northland was my father and I keep expecting him to be standing behind me. Given that he’s been dead for twenty-five years, it’s a bit unsettling. Just Tristan, please.”

Benjamin inclined his head, the corner of his mouth twitching in spite of his resolve to show no emotion. Tristan was quite charming. “Tristan,” he conceded, the name rolling across his tongue with the same satisfaction as the scotch.

“Thank you. How much of the history between our families are you aware of?” Tristan began, having to stifle the urge to stand and pace. He clasped his hands under one knee instead, pulling it up toward his chest, his foot resting on the chair.

After years of keeping carefully guarded secrets, Benjamin was justifiably paranoid about revealing too much of his family history. “I know that Lucas Sterling, my several-greats-grandfather got a local girl by the name of Anne Northland pregnant out of wedlock in the late sixteen-hundreds. Lucas was married to a very well-connected young woman out of Boston shortly after, abandoning Anne and her unborn child, who both later died in childbirth.”

Tristan nodded as Benjamin talked. He had no doubt that if Benjamin knew that much, he knew much more that he wasn’t willing to reveal yet. Tristan didn’t blame him. If he gained this man’s trust, he was certain they could break the curse, and the only way to gain his trust was to trust him. Much misfortune had befallen his family due to the curse, but nothing that would harm him or William in any way if it were discovered. “I’m certain you know through document or rumor that Anne was considered a witch and that it is said she cursed your ancestor before she died. I know that your family carries the effects of that curse to this day… as does mine.”

Benjamin’s ears pricked at that last statement. Was Tristan saying his family suffered the Sterling abomination? “Are you telling me you bear the same curse?”

Tristan’s face became instantly contrite. “Oh no, though I believe it would be just if we did. How much do you know about magic, Benjamin? Can I call you Benjamin, or would you prefer Mr. Sterling?”

“Benjamin seems only fair, seeing as you’ve invited me to call you by your given name. And to answer your question, more than I’d like.”

Tristan smiled again at the heavily sardonic tone in Benjamin’s voice. “I’m sure. Magic follows the karmic law of the universe. Whatever you put out comes back threefold. Anne may have cursed your family with a very specific affliction, but the intent of the spell rebounded on her own family. She set out to deny Lucas Sterling and his descendants love. Every member of the Northland family to find true love has lost that person to an early death for over three hundred years. Though we’ve had some live to old age with partners they could barely stand.”

Benjamin sat his glass on the table beside him when he realized that his hands were trembling slightly. Forming a steeple with his fingers, he considered the man across from him. Negotiations were frequently like a game of chess; to win a better position, you often had to give something up. “So you understand the nature of my affliction, do you?”

Tristan nodded earnestly. “I believe I do. I think you, like every firstborn male before you, suffers from a form of lycanthropy. Based on the animals you breed and raise on your estate, I would guess werewolf.”

Chapter 2

KNOWING THAT no more work was possible after Tristan’s unexpected arrival, Benjamin had had Penny call for his car service. He had offered to drop Tristan at his hotel, only to discover that Tristan hadn’t booked one. Apparently, the young man was incredibly spontaneous. Telling himself it was the only hospitable thing to do, he invited the young Brit to come home with him. He knew he was fooling himself, wanting to keep Tristan close until he discovered how trustworthy the young man who had sparked his desire was.

Dinner had been London broil, potatoes and broccoli au gratin. Benjamin had found that rare red meat was a necessity of his condition. A mature lycanthrope, he could go for the entire time between moons without shifting, no longer a slave to the anger or desire which had triggered changes when he was younger; however, to stay healthy, he needed about three times the protein of a normal man and very little else.

Tristan had spent the entire meal telling Benjamin all about his twin brother, his grandmother and his home. Apparently, his mother had taken her own life shortly after losing his father in a tragic accident when the twins had been very young.

Pushing back from the table, Benjamin crossed one leg over the other. It was time for some hard questions. “So if you love your home so much, why are you here, Tristan? How did you even come to know about the curse?”

Silent for a change, Tristan stood and left the room. Benjamin was just beginning to think he had scared the young man off when he returned carrying a cloth-bound book that appeared very old. Pushing his plate out of the way, he laid the book on the table. “This was my grandmother’s. When she died, it came to me as firstborn, even if only by a few minutes.” He flashed the smile that Benjamin was beginning to expect after a cheeky comment like that. He slid the book toward Benjamin. “Look at the marked page.”

Benjamin opened the book with great trepidation. He wasn’t sure he wanted to see what Tristan’s grandmother had written. Silently chastising himself, he flipped open the book, scanning the elegant scrawl that covered the page. His lips moved unconsciously as he read the curse on the page, knowing the words by heart, but still feeling the chill settle into his bones. The beast inside him tried to rise; he could feel it pushing just beneath the surface.

Tristan gasped and Benjamin knew that his eyes had changed to ice-blue—wolf eyes. Benjamin grabbed his wolf by the scruff of the neck, literally pulling it back and locking it deep within the chamber inside of him. When next he opened his eyes, they had returned to their normal blue-gray.

“You are right to fear me,” Benjamin stated calmly. “I am a monster and I’m afraid no magic is going to change that. It is admirable that you wish to right a wrong from long ago, but it isn’t your debt to pay. Go home, Tristan. Find yourself a sweet girl to love for the time you have her or a shrew to live to a ripe old age with, but stay away from me. I’m capable of causing you much more pain than a broken heart.”

Tristan shivered at the desolate tone in Benjamin’s voice, leaning forward to grasp his hands. “I’ve only had three months to study the notes in the journal, but I feel in my bones that I can break this curse. I’m not afraid of you. Please let me try.”

Benjamin stared at their joined hands. Could he do this? Could he reawaken his hopes only to have them dashed again? “You would not be the first to try. No one has had any success. Over the years, we’ve been promised help by clergy, witches, scientists and doctors.”

“But never by a Northland,” Tristan stated. “A Northland cast this curse. Shouldn’t that give me an advantage?”

Benjamin raised his eyes from their hands to Tristan’s eyes, seeing hope and determination shining in their depths. “Possibly. I’ll give you one cycle of the moon,” Benjamin relented, standing.

To his surprise, Tristan whooped, jumping to his feet and throwing his arms around him in a celebratory hug. Benjamin’s arms closed around the slender body and he gave in to temptation, burying his face against the soft hair and inhaling deeply. When Tristan made no immediate move to pull away, Benjamin reluctantly released him. “How about a drink to seal our bargain? I’ve got brandy in the den.”

Incredibly relieved at being granted a chance, Tristan followed Benjamin down the hall. The den was a cozy room, the walls covered with bookshelves. A large stone fireplace caught his attention. Walking over to it, he examined the pictures that lined the mantle. A young boy featured prominently in the array. “Your son?” he asked, turning back to face Benjamin. He had done some research and knew that Benjamin had been married and was the father of one son.

Benjamin’s smile showed his pride. “Yes, that’s Charles.”

“Is he here?” Tristan asked, looking around for signs of a child’s presence.

Benjamin shook his head sadly. “No, he is away at school. Since his mother and I divorced, it is just easier. It works better with me having to travel back and forth to the city, too.”

“How old is he?”

“He’ll be eleven next November. I was thirteen when the changes started,” Benjamin said, answering both the spoken and unspoken questions. “The first few years were so painful. I would spare him that if I could.” He jumped at the unexpected touch on his arm.

Tristan couldn’t help reaching out to Benjamin, his own heart aching at the pain he saw reflected in the cerulean blue eyes. “If we can find a way to reverse the curse, he’ll never have to know that pain.”

Benjamin nodded, afraid to hope but unable to resist Tristan’s enthusiasm. “I’ll show you my private library and point out the books I think you’ll find the most useful. I’ll have to leave for my estate upstate in no more than two days, but you can come with me if you’d like. It is land that has been in my family since the curse. You might find it helpful, but if you’d rather stay here, I can arrange—”

“No, I’d like to go with you. I just wasn’t sure I’d be welcome.”

“I’ll be honest, Tristan. I don’t hold much hope that the curse can be undone, but I do believe that your motives are pure. I don’t judge you based on your ancestors any more than I’d hope you’d judge me on mine. I can’t help but feel a burning rage for what Anne brought upon my family, but she was first wronged by a relative of mine who was, by all accounts, a weak-willed philanderer.”

Tristan realized that as they traded more and more intimate revelations, their bodies had drifted closer until he could have reached out and easily laid his palm against Benjamin’s chest. His sudden awareness of Benjamin’s body robbed him of anything further to say. He could feel the warmth radiating off the older man’s skin and wanted to touch him to see if it was just an illusion.

Benjamin smelled the sudden rise of desire in Tristan and his body answered in kind. He wanted to lick at the sheen of perspiration that had appeared on the young man’s skin, see if he tasted as good as he smelled. A discreet cough swung his attention to the door.

Conrad, his houseman, stood waiting patiently.

Benjamin had to swallow the growl that rose in his throat. His first reaction was to pull Tristan firmly to his body, hide him from the other man’s sight. He realized that his response was irrational, but couldn’t completely ignore the signals from the more instinctive part of his mind. His beast recognized in Tristan a potential mate and was going to protect him from all other males.

“Will you be needing anything else tonight, sir?” Conrad queried politely.

“No, thank you. Go to bed, Conrad. Tristan will be staying in the apartment tomorrow. I’d like you to pack any books he sets aside and have them transported to the estate,” Benjamin said, taking a deep breath. He needed to rein in his emotions. This close to the full moon, his potent reaction to Tristan had the potential to be dangerous.

“Certainly, sir.”

Benjamin turned back to the man at his side. Taking his hand, he led him to the corner of the room. “Most of the books you’ll find interesting, and hopefully helpful, will be at the estate, but you may find something of interest in here.” With a firm push, he slid one of the racks back, a section of bookshelf swinging forward silently, revealing a set of hidden shelves.

Tristan scanned the spines. These books were obviously far older and more valuable than the ones displayed openly. Their sizes ranged from palm-sized to large enough to necessitate specially designed shelves. Most were leather and some appeared hand-bound. The bibliophile in him wanted to jump up and down in delight, but he settled for sweeping a reverent hand over the spines. “My family has run a used-book store specializing in the occult for three generations. I have never seen some of these titles. Many of them are referenced in later works, but to own the original,” Tristan admitted with awe.

“My family has been collecting texts related to our disorder for centuries. We probably have one of the most extensive libraries on werewolves in the world,” Benjamin stated.

Tristan ran a finger down a raised leather spine. He loved books and being shown a collection like this, and being told there were more. He shook his head, reminding himself why he was here. It would be so easy to bury himself in the texts, in the lore, but the reality was standing less than an arm’s length in front of him. Looking at the older man, Tristan reached out and grasped his hand. “Thank you for giving me a chance.”

BENJAMIN FLIPPED from his side to his back, raising a leg and shaking it violently as it got tangled in the sheets. With a stifled curse, he threw back the covers and swung his bare feet to the floor. Between the moon and Tristan, he was entirely too wound up to sleep. Glancing at the closet door that held his robe, he decided against the extra effort. Who was he going to run into in his own kitchen at three in the morning?

Lycanthropes by nature were far more comfortable naked. Part of Benjamin’s eccentric persona was that he and his staff dressed far more informally than most of the businessmen of his level. The press had actually gotten bored of snapping him walking around barefoot, it had become so common. The silk sleep pants he wore at the moment were a concession to having a guest in the house, though he could tolerate clothing made of natural substances, such as silk, cotton or leather, far better than synthetics.

Silently, he padded down the steps to the kitchen. A cup of herbal tea might help. He wished momentarily that alcohol or sleeping pills worked on him. Not bothering with the light, he filled and plugged in the kettle, preparing the mug while he waited for the water to boil. He could see equally well in dark or daylight, but that wasn’t the only sense that was supernaturally acute.

His head tilted to the side as he listened for a repeat of the soft noise that was out of place in the quiet apartment. There it was again. Unplugging the kettle, he stalked stealthily out of the kitchen and down the hall. Conrad’s room was on the other side of the kitchen and Tristan was staying in the spare bedroom next to his upstairs. He spotted a faint glow seeping from under the door to the library. Before he had even touched the knob, he caught Tristan’s scent.

Pushing open the door, Benjamin smiled. The young Brit was curled sideways in one of the leather wingback chairs, his feet tucked underneath him and a dusty book open across his lap, sound asleep. Without thinking, Benjamin closed the book, laying it carefully on the wooden table next to the chair, and lifted the sleeping man in his arms easily, the slight frame no challenge for the werewolf’s strength.

Tristan immediately snuggled into the warmth of Benjamin’s bare chest, his breath tickling the curled hairs. Benjamin trembled; his nipples hardening at the unintentional stimulation. He looked down at the peaceful face, so innocent in slumber. You have no clue the devil that you’re tempting, Benjamin thought. With purpose, he strode down the hall and up the stairs, shouldering open the door to Tristan’s room and depositing him on the bed before temptation won out over sanity.

The sleeping man murmured his displeasure at losing the warmth of Benjamin’s arms, unconsciously turning, seeking the heat of the man that had held him.

“Shhh….” Benjamin soothed, brushing his fingers through the long curls. “The books will still be there in the morning.”

Tristan muttered something unintelligible, his eyes flickering open but not waking.

Tucking the blankets in around Tristan’s shoulders, Benjamin allowed himself one last lingering touch before heading back downstairs to switch his tea for coffee. He wasn’t going to sleep this night. He might as well get some work done.

WHEN TRISTAN woke the next morning, bright fall light was streaming through the windows of the bedroom. He was shocked to see the time on the clock indicating that he had slept most of the day away. Grabbing what he needed from his suitcase, he took a quick shower and dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. There was no point in unpacking when they would be heading upstate in just a few days. Making his way toward the library, he bumped into Conrad, the man that seemed to wear a multitude of hats when it came to running Benjamin’s household.

“Master Northland,” the older man greeted him. “I see that you are up and looking quite rested. May I offer you some food? You must be starving.”

Tristan’s stomach rumbled as if answering the question directly. “Well, yes, I guess I am,” Tristan admitted. “But I really can’t wait to get at the books. There is so little time before we leave, and I need to decide what to take.”

Conrad smiled at the younger man’s enthusiasm. He’d been with the Sterling family since before Benjamin’s change and would give anything, including his own life, to end this curse before it affected Charles. Seeing one young man he loved struggle through that pain was enough. “Why don’t you go on in and I’ll bring you a tray of cold meats and cheeses to nibble on while you work?” he suggested.

Tristan beamed, throwing his arms around Conrad impulsively. He and William had been raised by a grandmother who loved to touch, and his body didn’t always wait for his mind to determine if it was a good idea. “Thank you so much, Conrad. That would be perfect,” Tristan exclaimed.

The staid servant stood stiff as a board with Tristan’s arms around his torso. When the young man didn’t immediately pull away, he relaxed slightly, his hands finding their way up to settle on the small of Tristan’s back. Releasing his neck muscles, he allowed his head to fall forward into the crook of Tristan’s neck. The damp skin and curls smelled like coconut and lilies. “It is no problem,” Conrad said, genuinely meaning it. He liked this man and felt in his bones that Tristan’s arrival was predestined. The energetic young man was meant to be here. Whether or not the scholar succeeded in breaking the curse remained to be seen, but Tristan’s place was here at his master’s side regardless.

Tristan practically skipped down the hall to the library as Conrad headed the opposite way to fix his lunch. Spotting the book he’d been reading the night before, he froze in the doorway, swamped with images and feelings he thought had been part of his dreams. He remembered sneaking back downstairs, unable to resist the lure of the books. The tome sitting beside the chair had been the third he had examined. He remembered having trouble keeping his eyes open and finally thinking he’d rest them for a few minutes, but the next thing he knew he had woken up in his bed. Had he been so sleepy that he didn’t remember going back up to his room? Or did his dreams of being held safe in Benjamin’s arms have more to do with reality than the overactive libido that he had blamed them on?

A pronounced cough from behind him snapped Tristan out of his reverie. “Oh, sorry, Conrad,” he apologized, stepping into the room and out of the way as the man placed a large tray on the corner of the desk.

“Is everything all right, Master Northland?” Conrad asked, clasping his hands formally.

“Oh yeah,” Tristan muttered distractedly, “everything’s fine. I was just deciding where to start for the day. Oh, and please call me Tristan. My teachers always called me Master Northland and it makes me feel about six years old.”

“As you wish. I’ll leave you to your books.” Conrad gave a half bow and walked gracefully out of the room.

Tristan picked up a piece of crusty bread, adding a slice of cheese and turkey before he wandered over to the bookshelf. He scanned the titles of the books while he ate, not wanting to touch the delicate materials with greasy fingers. A folio of papers that he hadn’t noticed the night before caught his eye. Laying his forgotten sandwich aside, he wiped his hands on his jeans before carefully removing the leather folio from the shelf. He balanced it carefully as he walked to the desk to keep the papers from falling.

Opening the binder, he examined the first sheet. The paper was yellowed with age, the edges curling, but it seemed in good condition. Deciding it would withstand handling, he lifted it carefully, being sure to avoid touching the inked areas. The date on the top of the paper was 1837. It appeared to be a diary or personal accounting from one of Benjamin’s ancestors of his fight with the devil, which Tristan assumed referenced the lycanthropy. From the first paragraph, the man’s terror and abject loneliness poured from the page. Tristan felt like a hand had reached through time and pulled him forcibly into this man’s world, into his mind and his heart. Turning page after page, he read about the physical pain, the irresistible yearnings, the utter disgust at his acts when he didn’t manage to control the beast. Apparently by sheer force of will, this man had managed to resist the change through several cycles of the moon, but had eventually snapped and in a state of uncontrolled bloodlust had killed two members of his household, including his mother.

Tristan jumped as a tear fell to the page, smearing the ink slightly. “Fuck!” He quickly swiped at his eyes. He’d been unaware that he’d been crying, but his hands came away soaked. Grabbing a tissue, he carefully blotted the wetness.

“Tristan!” Benjamin called from the doorway, his tone much harsher than he’d intended. The moment he’d stepped into the apartment, he’d sensed Tristan’s distress and had torn through the rooms to find him.

The young Brit jumped guiltily. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean….” His words stuttered to a halt as the older man strode across the room, his eyes taking in the swollen eyes, tearstained cheeks and the tissue clutched in one hand. Tristan shifted nervously as Benjamin approached, trying to quell an almost overwhelming urge to run.

Benjamin felt Tristan’s panic and purposefully slowed his steps. Stopping no more than a foot away, he couldn’t control the hand that rose to brush at the wet cheek, lingering to stroke and cup the strong jaw. Tristan pressed into the comforting touch, his eyes drifting closed, peace replacing the ache in his heart.

“What caused you such distress?” Benjamin asked gently, his eyes moving to the desk. “Ahh… Nathaniel. One of the most tragic stories in our cursed family. He never did come to terms with his beast and died trying to outrun it. It was thought that the curse ended with him. He took his life before siring an heir. It was only many years later that it was discovered that he had fathered a bastard. I like to think he found peace in death, thinking that he had prevented others in our line from suffering like he did.”

“I… I damaged….” Tristan’s words deserted him and he simply pointed at the blotch on the page he’d been reading.

Benjamin smiled gently, his hand slipping into the long curls and massaging Tristan’s neck soothingly. The young man’s eyes widened and the wolf in Benjamin surged to the surface, scenting the wave of desire. The slightest pressure from Benjamin’s hand drew Tristan closer. With a growl, he pulled him hard against his chest, staring blindly at the wall as he realized how close he had come to kissing his bookish savior. “You aren’t the first to cry over Nathaniel’s words, and I doubt you’ll be the last,” he said gruffly.

Tristan used his position as an excuse to compare the feel of Benjamin’s chest to the memory from his dream. The smell, the strong arms, the rapid heartbeat, all resonated with him. He knew, without a doubt, that Benjamin had found him in the library and carried him to his room the previous night. The thought made his body flush with heat.

The waves of desire wafting off Tristan made Benjamin step away before he could no longer control the wilder side of his nature. It was crying out to claim Tristan and mark him as his. Running a shaky hand through his hair, he opened the small refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “So have you been locked in here all day, crying over my long-dead ancestor?”

Tristan stumbled a little as Benjamin moved away. Clutching the side of the desk for support, he watched as Benjamin moved gracefully around the room, finally settling in the chair Tristan had occupied the night before. “Actually I slept most of the day away, but yes, I’ve been in here ever since. What time is it?” He squinted at the window, trying to gauge the time by the amount of light and finding it very dim.

“Seven-thirty. I thought you might like to go out to dinner since we’ll only be in the city one more night,” Benjamin offered. Going out had not been his intention when he got home. This close to the full moon, he usually preferred solitude to crowds, but being alone with Tristan for several hours before he could politely excuse himself for bed seemed like a very bad idea.

Tristan agreed readily. For the first time in his life, he’d found a person whose company he preferred to books. His initial impulse was to tell his twin, but his mind was too charged to focus enough to initiate the contact. Or maybe it was the distance, he thought, taking the stairs two at a time to his room. They had never tried their gifts trans-continentally. Promising himself a nice long telephone call when they got settled at Benjamin’s estate, the young man pawed through his suitcase, trying to decide what to wear.