Page 28 of The Howling (Monsters of the Yeavering #2)

I ’m genuinely not sure what to make of Reavely.

He looks like he’s about to explode, a feral energy radiating from him, and no part of his muscular, sculptured body is still.

His flaming eyes bore into me. And when he closes the gap between us, it’s clear my body wants to do one of two things, either run or surrender.

Reavely smells like a fresh summer’s day, a hint of earth, a hint of sunlight, and underlying it all is his delicious spice. He might be in my personal space, but it seems the surrender part of me is winning on the whole make a choice thing.

I still have no underwear. Apparently, it will be sent on, like the other gowns Bessie has made for me. I will believe it when I see it.

Despite all attempts to get information out of her in relation to the wedding dress, my otherwise friendly seamstress refused to say much on the subject, simply that it was up to Reavely to reveal all.

So, am I marrying this damned Barghest or not?

“You always have a choice, little deer,” Reavely says to me, his hips swinging from side to side sinuously. “To run or not to run, to stay or not to stay. Your every wish is my command.”

His brow is furrowed, like he is concentrating hard on something.

“Even if that wish is to return beyond the veil?” I tease.

“Even if that is your wish.” Reavely cocks his head on one side, looking for all the world like a Labrador. “But you must know, if you do, I will follow.”

Bessie snorts a laugh.

“Good luck with him, Wynter. You’re going to need it.” She pats my arm and goes into her shop, shutting the door behind her with a clear finality.

“You’d come back with me?”

“I know what humans think of the monsters of the Yeavering, but as long as I am your protector, I will deal with any torches and pitchforks.”

I smile a little to myself, knowing those days are gone, and that there’s no point explaining social media to a creature like Reavely.

He is all about the physical, that much is clear. As to the meta-physical, I suspect he’d ignore it like anything else he is not interested in.

And it’s rather refreshing.

“For the time being, let’s go back to the castle. We can discuss my wishes later,” I say.

Reavely gives me a toothy grin, and in an instant, he goes from feral to adorable.

What the hell am I thinking?

He takes souls and he’s death’s right hand. A Barghest cannot be cute!

Reavely dips his head and gestures for me to go ahead of him, quickly falling into step with me as we exit the village, our way lit by the lamps in the windows of the cottages.

This time, no shutters swing shut as we approach, and as we walk out of the village onto a well worn but overgrown track, the sun dips below the horizon, and a hazy, clear evening light filters through the undergrowth, giving it an unworldly air, which is entirely appropriate for this unworldly place.

The little magic I’ve seen in the Yeavering has been wielded by Faerie like Lord Guyzance, and not in a good way, but as the light fades, I see the true magic of the place.

The Yeavering is a being all on its own.

“What are the little creatures, the ones with wings, called?” I ask Reavely as we continue to wind our way up to the castle towering over us.

“Creatures?”

“The ones in your castle, the ones which did the food we ate earlier?”

“You can see the Duegar?” Reavely queries. “They’re usually invisible.”

“Oh, I didn’t know.”

“Perhaps they like you,” he suggests. “I like you.”

“Enough to marry me?”

Reavely stops, the soft lighting flowing over his furred shoulders, a breeze rifling through his spiky hair, pushing it to become even more ear-like than before.

“I don’t know what Bessie told you,” he says.

I hold up a hand. “She didn’t tell me anything. This place is full enough of secrets and lies. I don’t need any more.”

“I am cursed, Wynter,” Reavely says, looking straight ahead as we continue. “My whole pack is cursed. It’s the reason they are not here anymore. Unless I serve the Reaper, and hand him my one true mate, I will walk the Yeavering forever as his slave, and my pack will remain forever cursed.”

“And what happens if you don’t serve the Reaper?” I say, attempting to keep my heart out of my throat.

“Then I curse everything I touch.”

A muscle jumps in his strong jaw, the lines of his face harder than ever.

“So, you’re giving me up to the Reaper?”

Reavely stops. He takes hold of my hand and drops to one knee.

“Never,” He growls. “I always thought when it came to it, it would be easy, to hand over my mate and return my pack to their position, but it is not.” His brow furrows.

“I miss them, Wynter. I miss them all so very much, but I’d rather be thrown into the pits of hell than give you up to the Reaper. ”

“I…” My mind rushes at a hundred miles an hour.

“I don’t want that for you. Either way.” I look at my hands as I twist them.

“I know some of what you feel. My dad died in the plague which affected all the humans, and my mum married again. But there was no curse, just my own stupid fault in trusting someone I shouldn’t have. ”

Reavely studies my face, slowly, carefully.

“My curse is great, but I was told it could be broken by marriage, which is why the Hedley Kow opened her big mouth. I wish to marry you, Wynter, but not because of the curse. You are my fated one. I know it deep down inside. I knew it the moment I saw you.”

“You mean, if I marry you, the curse is broken, and you get your pack back?” I say. “Why would I not want to do that? I’d do anything to have my dad back.”

Reavely cups the side of my head, his thumb stroking over my cheek, a cheek which I suddenly realise is wet with tears.

His face is so close now, I find myself pressing my lips to his because I can’t seem to stop myself. I attempt to pull back from him when I realise what I’m doing, but his hand is at the back of my neck, and the kiss is returned.

Oh boy, is it returned! Reavely’s lips are soft, warm, inviting. He draws me in as if I am the only girl in the entire world. This is not what I was expecting when we set out today, but it is everything, everything I’ve ever wanted.

Reavely kisses me like he is never going to let me go, never going to let me up for air, and as his tongue sweeps my mouth, I don’t want it to end.

But end it does. He leaves me panting, hot, needy.

“I don’t deserve to be saved, Wynter, and I can’t ask you to do that for me.”