When it was done and he was in human form again, he rose to his feet, swaying briefly as he adjusted back to his body. Once he felt steadier, he made his way to the kitchen door. There was no light from the window next to the door and no sounds of any servants in there. Drew tried the door handle and was unsurprised to find it locked, but it didn’t matter—the window had been left very slightly open, enough for him to get in. Stepping up onto the window ledge, Drew insinuated his fingers inside the gap, yanking the lower sash upwards. The metal catch on the rail twisted and broke, splintering the rail. Wincing at the noise, Drew lifted the lower sash and slid through the resulting gap before gently lowering it behind him.
In the kitchen, everything was neat and put away, no fire in the grate. There hadn’t been anyone here for an hour or two by the look of things—the servants must have left early. Had Lindsay dismissed them?
Drew stood in the middle of the kitchen, listening intently and scenting the air. He could make out Duncan’s scent, faint but quite definite. He was here—or had been. Drew’s heart raced as hard as if he was running at full pelt, but now it was with pure fear for Lindsay. The knowledge that Lindsay would do anything rather than be in Duncan’s power for another moment petrified him.
He stood, unmoving, and listened intently but the house was as quiet as it was dark. Had Duncan already been and gone? Taken Lindsay with him?
Crossing the kitchen floor, Drew opened the door as carefully as possibly, flinching at every creak, and made his way out into the corridor that led to the front of the house. With every step, Duncan’s scent grew stronger. Soon Drew found himself in the hallway just beyond the front door. He could tell that this was where Duncan had arrived—and his scent led upstairs.
It was just then, as Drew set his foot on the first step, that he heard it. Laughter. If you could call that harsh bark laughter. Then another voice, low and angry. Not raised, not yet.
There was someone here. More than one someone.
Drew crept quickly up the stairs, listening and scenting all the while. Duncan’s scent was strong now. And so was the sickness scent Drew hated.
The voices—still low—were coming from Lindsay’s bedchamber and as Drew moved swiftly and silently down the corridor, he began to make out words.
“—Wolfsbane. It kills the—” That was Lindsay, a note of challenge in his voice. He sounded as though he was relishing every word.
Duncan spoke next, his tone scornful. “What are you talking about, cur? You can’t kill your wolf.”
“Yes, you can. If you take the Wolfsbane slowly, it severs the bonds. It’s taken me two years, but I’ve done it,” Lindsay said triumphantly. “My wolf is gone and with it my bond to you. You can’t make me obey you ever again.”
Drew was almost at the door now, but he stilled at those words.
My wolf is gone.
He felt the truth of that declaration like a sword through his heart, and his wolf keened within him, inconsolable. Desperately, he reached out with his every wolf sense, searching for some sign of Lindsay’s wolf, but there was none.
The Wolfsbane had finally done its work then. Lindsay was free. Which meant Drew was too.
After all this time, he should feel some sense of liberty filling him, but instead he felt only horror and grief. The truth was, it didn’t matter what happened to the bond. Even if Lindsay’s wolf was gone forever, Drew’s heart still beat for Lindsay and his soul still yearned for him. He realised now, that was never going to change.
“Kneel,” Duncan said, his voice low and dangerous. The order thrummed with a power that Drew could feel even from where he stood on the other side of the door, but Lindsay only laughed, a wild harsh sound.
“Kneel, you fucking cur!” Duncan roared.
For a moment, there was pure silence, then Lindsay said, with precise satisfaction, “Never.”
And then all hell broke loose.
Duncan roared with fury, and just as Drew leapt forward to push the door open, something heavy smashed against it, blocking it.
As Drew frantically pushed at the invisible obstacle, he could hear Duncan shouting.
“You will kneel!” This was followed by the unmistakable sound of a blow and a grunt of pain from Lindsay.
“You will obey!” Another blow followed, then another grunt.
“You. Are. Mine!” Each word was punctuated by another blow until Lindsay was whimpering.
Drew felt his wolf begin to rise.
He had managed to work the door open enough to peer around and see the obstacle—a huge wardrobe that Duncan had upended in his rage and that had become wedged against the wall. With one last violent shove, Drew managed to shift it, and squeeze through the gap into the chamber.
The picture that greeted him made his blood freeze.
Lindsay was on his hands and knees, a fragile form in his crimson satin dressing gown. A livid bruise was already coming up over his eye and blood was trickling from his nose.
Lindsay stared at him, horrified. “Drew,” he breathed.
Duncan, standing over him like an executioner, glanced over his shoulder. His eyes widened with surprise, then gleamed with amusement.
“Why, it’s your pup, cur! This is famous, is it not?”
Lindsay did not so much as glance at him, his gaze fixed on Drew. “You should not have come,” he whispered as though Duncan had not spoken. His dark eyes seemed huge in his thin, pale face.
Drew met his gaze, heart pounding. “How could I stay away?”
Lindsay closed his eyes, his face a mask of despair. He whispered, “You always have before.”
“Lindsay—”
“Please go,” he begged desperately, and when Drew shook his head, made one last futile attempt at compulsion, saying harshly. “Go. I—I command thee.”
Despite everything, Drew couldn’t help the watery smile those words provoked. “Never,” he whispered, echoing Lindsay himself.
Their gazes held, and though Lindsay’s was despairing and Drew’s steady, they shared a single moment of perfect understanding.
I am here, with you, to the end.
Duncan’s raucous laugh broke through the fragile silence. “So, it’s true then,” he said, almost wonderingly. “The Wolfsbane really has killed your wolf—you can no more command this pup than I can command you!” Turning, he studied the dressing table behind him, with its bottles and jars and paraphernalia, then glanced back at Lindsay, assessing. “Which one is it?”
Lifting his hand, he hovered it a few inches over the tops of the various receptacles, palm facing downwards. Slowly he began to move it, watching Lindsay, who watched him back with a tense, unhappy expression. Stilling over a metal canister, he canted his head to the side a little, his eyes narrowing, reading.
“No?” He moved again, this time halting over the blue bottle and holding his hand there. “This one then, cur? Come—tell me.”
“My wolf is gone,” Lindsay bit out. “I do not obey thee anymore.”
Duncan laughed softly. “Lapsing back to the old tongue? You must be overwrought.” Grinning, he added silkily, “You may not obey me anymore, cur, but I spent half a century watching you react to a thousand different sensations. I think I know you a little by now.” He tapped the blue bottle. “It’s this one, isn’t it?”
What had Duncan seen in Lindsay’s eyes that had betrayed that truth to him?
Drew clambered up onto the side of the fallen wardrobe lying between him and the other two men. He paused there briefly before leaping lightly to the floor, drawing Duncan’s attention. For the first time, he was aware of—and felt the disadvantage of—his nakedness, but he hid it behind a blank expression.
“You don’t know Lindsay at all,” he said evenly. “Not anything that really matters.”
The interruption had its desired effect. Duncan dropped his hand and moved away from the dressing table. He stepped closer to Drew, though he made sure he kept Lindsay behind him. He raked his gaze up and down Drew’s n
aked body.
“Very pretty,” he said, somehow directing the remark at Lindsay without looking at him. “I can see why you chose him. He’s lovely. I would very much enjoy marking that skin.” He tapped his chin, considering. “In fact, I may just do that. There are ways of enslaving people other than biting them after all. Brute force can be effective.”
“Very true,” Lindsay replied hoarsely behind him. “But since it’s me you really want, let him go and I’ll come with th—you willingly.”
“Lindsay—” Drew began, his voice thick with warning, but Duncan spoke over him.
“Oh no, we can’t have that!” he declared. His grin was wide and he was as handsome and dashing as a storybook pirate, all flashing white teeth and glittering eyes. Larger than life in every way. “Not when your pup has come all this way to rescue you.” He winked at Drew. “You have come to rescue him, haven’t you?”
“Yes,” Drew said, and he felt so calm suddenly, so certain about this. It was an oddly glorious feeling to believe absolutely in what he was about to do, even knowing he probably had no chance against Duncan MacCormaic. He realised then, with a bolt of gut-deep understanding, that the choice mattered more than the outcome. That was true freedom. “Yes,” he said again, more firmly. “I have.”
“A life is defined by the choices a person makes. If I can’t make my own choices, what is the purpose of any of it?”
“No,” Lindsay moaned. “Drew, please, go now. You are making this worse!”
Drew met his pleading gaze. He felt astonishingly calm. “How could this be worse than you letting him kill you?”
“You would have been free,” Lindsay cried. “After all of this, can I not at least have that?”
Guilt and sorrow pierced Drew. He had brought Lindsay to this. And for nothing.
“I would not have been free,” Drew said.
Lindsay blinked, seeming confused.
Drew gave a desperate, helpless laugh. “I’ve been a terrible fool, Lindsay. The truth is, I was yours before you ever bit me, from the very first. And I always would have been, bite or no bite.”
“Drew—”
“Jesus Christ, is this a fucking love declaration?” Duncan interrupted. He paced back to Lindsay and pointed down at his crouching body, his face twisted in a disgusted sneer as he met Drew’s gaze. “You love this? This cringing cur?” He shook his head, disbelieving. “This is how you treat a cur,” he spat, and drawing back his leg, delivered a powerfully vicious kick to Lindsay’s ribs. Lindsay fell to his side, gasping and clutching his sides.
Drew’s wolf surged so swiftly that he was sure he saw it leap forward. As though his human sight lingered long enough to see his beast-self materialise, mid-leap before him, his consciousness only catching up with the wolf in the instant that its paws landed on Duncan’s shoulders, bearing him down to the ground.
Duncan was swift to react. He was already taking his wolf form as he fell to the ground, his huge muscular body shifting into a giant iron-grey wolf that opened its mighty jaws and fastened its teeth onto Drew’s shoulder.
Drew yelped and twisted away, the awkward, hard landing helping him escape Duncan’s grip, while his own retreat allowed Duncan to regain his footing. Now the two wolves circled each other, wary and watching, waiting for an opening. Drew’s shoulder screamed but he ignored it, his attention on Duncan. He knew the bigger wolf would take advantage of the slightest lapse in his concentration and was all too aware of the distraction of Lindsay just a few feet away, his wheezing gasps of pain and the clumsy sounds of him trying to get to his feet.
Even with his gaze trained on Duncan, it was a shock when Duncan leapt at him, a solid mass of teeth and claws. Their bodies collided and Drew reacted instinctively, turning his head to sink his teeth into Duncan’s side, as the bigger wolf’s teeth raked his neck, failing to get a hold of him this time.
Drew tasted blood, coppery and rich on his tongue, and his beast grew excited, biting deeper, ripping into Duncan’s flesh and making him roar with pain and rage as he twisted in Drew’s grip. His triumph was short-lived though. With a powerful buck of his muscular body, Duncan unbalanced Drew, sending him tumbling to the ground. An instant later he was on him, pinning him to the ground and going for his throat with his slashing teeth.
“Get off him!” Lindsay yelled above them. Drew glanced up to see him holding his ebony cane in his hands like a broadsword. Weak as he was, he swung it high and sent it smashing against Duncan’s thick skull.
It was enough, at least, to daze him for a moment; enough to allow Drew to wriggle out from beneath him and right himself.
Duncan struggled to his feet too, but instead of facing Drew, he turned on Lindsay with an ugly snarl. Undaunted, Lindsay narrowed his eyes and brandished his cane, an unlikely hero in his crimson dressing gown. Jesus, Duncan could tear him limb from limb in half a minute.
Panic soaring, Drew ignored his growing exhaustion, braced himself, then leapt again, landing on Duncan’s back and bearing him to the ground, fastening his teeth into the ruff at the back of Duncan’s neck and tearing at the flesh there. Beneath him, he felt all of Duncan’s writhing, muscular power trying to buck him off and wondered how long he could hang on. How long till Duncan tossed him off and went for his throat again.
How much longer he could protect Lindsay.
Despair was beginning to take hold of him when a new scent reached him, miraculous and wonderful and so familiar.
Francis.
Oh God, Francis was here.
With Duncan’s flesh still fastened between his teeth, he let out a whimper.
“What is it?” Lindsay said. “Drew?”
He couldn’t speak, couldn’t explain. Couldn’t tell him that help was coming and soon. All he could do was hang on, worrying at Duncan, who still writhed below him.
He felt the instant, a few seconds later, when Duncan—who did not share Drew’s sensitive nose—registered the same scent. Felt him seize up with astonishment and shock. Then renew his efforts to dislodge Drew.
This time he succeeded, sending Drew crashing to the side, but instead of turning on him, or indeed Lindsay, he backed up, his eyes reflecting his panic and longing. And then he began to shift back to his human form.
Lindsay gaped at him, astonished, but as vulnerable as shifting made Duncan, his actions made sense—it was hard enough to try to resist one’s maker in human form with the power of speech at one’s disposal. In wolf form it was impossible.
Drew considered moving in on Duncan again. If he attacked now during his transformation, he might have a chance, but even as he weighed up the possibility, his gaze went to Lindsay, who was now braced against the wall, grey and exhausted, using the cane to hold himself up.
Keeping a watchful eye on Duncan, Drew padded over to Lindsay, nudging his thigh with his nose. Lindsay gave a shaky laugh and touched Drew’s head, stroking him gently.
“I’m done,” Lindsay whispered. His hand slid from Drew’s head, and his thin body slid down the wall he leaned against. He landed clumsily on the floor and closed his eyes. Drew whined and paced, eyeing Duncan. who was now almost fully shifted.
But it was going to be all right—Francis’s scent was intensifying, getting closer. And then, quite suddenly, he was actually there, his voice calling out their names, his thin, intelligent face peeping round the doorframe. In an instant he was in the room, scrambling over the fallen wardrobe, his expression horrified as he saw Lindsay’s barely conscious form and Drew’s anxiously pacing wolf.
Duncan had fully shifted back to human now and as he climbed to his feet—in all his impressive nudity—he glared defiantly at Francis, his face frozen in a snarl.
“Stay back,” Francis said, gesturing towards Drew with his hand without taking his eyes off Duncan. “Guard Lindsay.”
The tangle of powerful scents in the room made Drew’s head reel: anger and longing and resentment—even a strange, fierce joy. Drew whined softly, overwhelmed with these new swirling e
motions competing with his own.
Francis’s initial horrified expression had already faded, a familiar determination settling over his delicate features as he strode toward Duncan.
He lifted his hand, palm outward, and began to speak.
“You will not—”
“No!” Duncan roared. He snatched the blue bottle from dressing table and yanked out the stopper, casting the contents at Francis with a jerk of his wrist. “You will never command me again.”
The tincture arced out of the bottle. To Drew’s wolf eyes—eyes that saw every shade of grey—it was a shining silver ribbon, unfurling in the air. Francis raised his arms instinctively and the ribbon exploded, covering his outstretched palms and splattering across the unprotected right side of his face.
Wolfsbane. Pure unadulterated Wolfsbane.
“Francis!” Lindsay cried hoarsely. “God, no!” He tried raise his body from the ground but fell back weakly. Drew whined.
“What is… this?” Francis said. He was staring at his hands, an almost comical expression of surprise on his expressive face before his legs gave out and he collapsed, falling clumsily to his knees.
Duncan’s eyes were wide with shock. “What’s happening?” he croaked. Francis was wheezing now, bracing his hands on the floor.
For the second time that night—indeed, for the second time in his whole life—Drew’s wolf surrendered to him, willingly ceding control of his body. The shift was swift and agonising enough to provoke a howl that turned to a cry as his human form reasserted itself. He went to move forward, to rush to Francis’s side, but Lindsay’s fingers grabbed his wrist. His grip was weak, but when Drew glanced back at him, he was shaken to his very soul by Lindsay’s distraught expression.
“Don’t,” Lindsay pleaded. “If you touch him, you’re dead. He won’t want that.”
“Dead?” Duncan said wildly. “What do you mean? You said you’ve been using it for years.”
“I began with a single drop each day,” Lindsay replied. “Even now, I use no more than five drops. And you see what it has done to me.”
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