by Jane Godman
He gave a soft growl, his eyes probing hers. “So you have been dealing with this all alone for two years?”
“What else could I do? The truth would have destroyed my father. He loved her so much.” Valetta decided that although Samson’s lap was her new favorite place, it was probably not the best position from which to conduct a serious conversation. Reluctantly, she moved back to sit at his side. “Did you ever meet her?”
“Only once.” He seemed to be conjuring up a mental image. “The main thing I remember about Teresa is that she was stunningly beautiful. You are very like her.” Valetta hung her head. She’d never been good at accepting compliments and a tribute from Samson was so far outside her experience it knocked her off balance. “They were happy together and I was pleased that Hendrik had found someone at last.”
“Did you ever think it was strange that he had been alone for so long and then, just as he left the brotherhood, he met my mother?”
“I never thought of it that way. If I had, I suppose I’d have said it was a happy twist of fate.”
“Happy? Or sinister?” Valetta had had the last two years to think about this. Her mother’s letter hadn’t told her much. Just that Teresa was a Shadow Wolf. Which makes me just about the worst thing in the world to a werewolf. I’m like a silver bullet wrapped in flesh and blood. I’m a ticking time bomb, except even I don’t know how to light my own fuse. The remainder of the letter had been a plea for forgiveness that Teresa had left her to deal with this alone. Once the shock had sunk in, Valetta couldn’t help wondering how Teresa had come into Hendrik’s life. Had her mother sought him out because he was lonely and in need of love? Was that how a Shadow Wolf worked its magic?
“Happy.” Samson’s voice was firm. “You said yourself a Shadow Wolf can be benign. I saw them together. No way was Teresa evil.”
“So why did she give birth to me?” The words were wrenched from her. “She knew what she was, and what the legend is. She knew if she got pregnant her child would have the power to destroy all Arctic werewolves. I should never have been born.” She turned wild, anguished eyes to him. The question that had been tearing her apart ever since she read that letter was wrenched from her lips. “Why did she let it happen, Samson?”
He gripped her shoulders hard, shaking her slightly. “Don’t ever speak about yourself like that, do you hear me?”
“Like what?” Valetta gave a wild laugh that broke in the middle and became a sob. “Don’t say I’m an abomination? A monster? A creature that should be hunted to extinction—”
Her words were abruptly silenced as Samson dragged her into his arms and brought his lips down on hers. She suspected that the kiss started out as a desire to comfort her and quickly became heated. Because she had worked herself up into such a frenzy, Valetta struggled and Samson released her instantly.
Her eyes narrowed as she stared at him, a furious blush staining her cheeks. “Don’t you dare pity-kiss me!”
“Pity-kiss? Is that even a thing?”
“That’s what it felt like.”
He shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. You obviously have more experience of these things than I do. Now, do you want to carry on feeling sorry for yourself or shall we finish the kiss?” He smiled and her anger dissolved. Everything inside her just melted into a puddle of longing. I’m supposed to be having the most important conversation of my life and all I can think about is how good it felt to have his tongue in my mouth again after five long years. “Which had nothing to do with pity and everything to do with how much I wanted to kiss you.”
It was getting too difficult to keep looking directly at him, so she looked down. “I don’t know what to say.”
“That seems like a cue not to talk at all.” He drew her gently back into his arms.
Kissing Valetta had been inevitable since the moment he had seen her in that crowded cavern. All those inner promptings about how he needed to keep his distance, how she was Hendrik’s daughter, how she was too young for him, how his heart was too damaged . . . in an instant, none of those things mattered. As soon as his lips touched hers, everything else melted away. Her taste, her scent, her softness, the way her body cleaved to his, the memory of that wild moment five years ago came flooding back. He had told himself over and over that he had built that kiss up to be something more than reality. That, because it was forbidden, his imagination had made it more magical. He was wrong. Kissing Valetta was like nothing he had ever experienced. So much more than anything he had ever dreamed of. As he cupped his hand to the back of her head, angling her lips to his to deepen the kiss, he had a final, drowning thought. I am getting in too deep here. And I want to go deeper.
Samson came from a centuries-old werewolf pack. He knew the rules. When wolves mated, it was for life. For a werewolf, life was a hell of a long time. Samson had already made that commitment. Just because his mate was dead, it didn’t mean he was free. Other werewolves might tell him he was wrong. Might try to say he was free to love again. Werewolf mates were forever, but when a mate died, the bond was broken and the surviving mate was free to find a new partner. Samson’s own heart told him a different story. The day a silver-tipped spear to the head ended Anna’s life had been the day Samson’s own life had been frozen in time. His emotions had shut down. Until that day five years ago when Valetta had kissed him, he’d have said it didn’t matter. In their human form, werewolves could indulge in sex with no strings . . . which came in useful for the sake of their sanity. Samson would never defile Anna’s memory that way. He had remained true. Sex with another woman—even a human—would feel like a betrayal of all they’d been to each other. But to feel like this? Just from a kiss? How the hell had this happened?
When Valetta broke the kiss, pulling away, her eyes slightly drugged with desire, Samson resisted the impulse to groan with disappointment.
“If you are trying to distract me, you’re doing a very good job.” Her voice was shaky.
“Funnily enough, that wasn’t what I was thinking about.” Had he been thinking at all? He couldn’t recall a coherent thought beyond how much he never wanted to let her go.
A faint blush tinged her pale cheeks. “So now you see why I had to come here. Why I have to make sure the Guardians stay away from my father.”
So the kiss is a thing of the past. We’re moving on, changing the subject. “I understand more about your motives, sure. But I still have no idea about theirs. Do you?”
Valetta shook her head. “Beyond the fact that they want to kill the Shadow Born, I know nothing about the Guardians. The only other thing that seems clear is that they don’t know what I am.”
“Are you sure?”
She looked startled. “What makes you ask that?”
“I don’t trust Konrad. He’s up to something. This business with your father could all be an elaborate trap.” Her expression had become even more troubled, and he decided she didn’t need any more concerns added to her already overflowing stock. “I’m probably wrong. It’s my brotherhood training; it conditions me to think the worst in every situation.”
“Konrad seems to be the gatekeeper, the barrier between the young Guardians and whoever sent them. He let me in here, but I sense he’s biding his time, waiting for something.”
“We need to find out more about Konrad, and, at the same time, more about the legend of the Shadow Born.”
Valetta hung her head. “I’m not sure I want to know more about the legend. What if I find out I’m capable of horrible things?”
Samson slid a finger under her chin, tilting her face so that she was forced to look at him. “You’re a werewolf, Valetta. You’ve always been capable of horrible things.”
“You know that’s not what I meant.” Even in the gloom of the forest, her eyes were brilliant as they gazed into his. Brilliant and troubled, like pools of gold wretchedness. “And, even though I am a werewolf, I haven’t shifted since I read that letter.”
Samson almost recoiled in shock. A werewolf who hadn’
t shifted for two years? What sort of iron self-control did she have? And why would she resist the single most basic instinct of a werewolf? The wonderful, magical sensation that was the lifeblood of the lycanthrope? Even as he asked the question, he knew the answer. “Because you are afraid of your Shadow Born power?”
“Ever since the first time I shifted, I have felt something deep within me that I didn’t understand. It was as if there were three beings within me. My human, my Arctic werewolf, and this other presence. The third one—the shadowy one—was growing stronger all the time. It scared me. Until I read my mother’s letter, I didn’t know what that other being inside me was. Once I knew I was Shadow Born, I became too frightened to shift.” She raised troubled eyes to Samson’s face. “What if my Shadow Born werewolf subdued my Arctic werewolf? I don’t know what that inner being is capable of, so I keep her hidden.”
“That must be torture.” Samson couldn’t imagine anything worse. Every time the midnight sun shone, as it was doing now, Valetta must be in agony.
Her smile was rueful. “It’s no fun.”
He grasped her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Do it now.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t. I told you . . .”
“I’m here. I’ll take the consequences. Trust me.” He faced her. “Shift with me, Valetta. Let’s do this together.”
Valetta stared into Samson’s eyes. Did he know what he was doing to her with his suggestion? He was giving her a glimpse of something she could never have. What if she unleashed her inner Shadow Born werewolf and something terrible happened? She had lived with the awfulness of that possibility ever since she’d read her mother’s letter.
“Trust me.” His voice was gentle.
“It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s me.”
“I won’t let anything bad happen.” He held out his hands. “I promise.” His grin was irresistible as he slipped off his boots and indicated for her to do the same. “Well, except for the fact that we won’t have any clothes to come back to.”
She felt something shift in the space between them. Something dark and irresistible. The weight of her heritage, of everything she’d denied for so long, moved in the gold depths of Samson’s eyes and her inner wolf leaped in response. She was a lycanthrope, a creature of legend, born to run free, to hunt, to mate, to bring up her own pack . . . and, through her father, she was an Arctic werewolf, born to revel in the unique power of the midnight sun. By ruthlessly denying her instincts, she had cut herself off from who she was, imprisoned herself in a world without sensory input. Now Samson was overloading her senses and it was intoxicating. She could feel her inner wolf rippling in the depths of her muscles and simmering in her bloodstream. The call of the Arctic was beating in time with her heart.
Valetta took Samson’s outstretched hands. She gazed into his eyes as he shifted. It happened quickly and quietly. His human features lengthened, his golden eyes widened, his powerful body became elongated. Within seconds, the man was gone and Samson’s werewolf was before her, shrugging off the tattered remains of his clothes. He was a magnificent animal, standing well over six feet tall on his hind legs. Acting on impulse, Valetta ran a hand through the thick, snow-white fur of his neck. She had expected it to feel coarse, but it was like plowing her fingers through velvet. Samson dropped onto all fours, maintaining eye contact. Waiting.
I can’t. She wrapped her arms around her waist, fear overcoming her once more. There were too many “what ifs.” What if I’m not as beautiful as him? What if I’m a monster? What if I hurt him?
Samson moved closer, rubbing his muzzle against the bare flesh of her thigh, the touch comforting and curiously arousing. He trusted her and was asking her to trust him.
Slowly, she lowered her head, studying the forest floor. After all this time, it’s as if I have no idea how to do this. The thought was gone as she surrendered to the emotions coursing through her and gave herself up to her inner wolf. It wasn’t frightening. Nothing inside her distorted or protested. It was the most perfect, natural shift from human to wolf, a harmonious exchange between the two beings who resided within her. Who were her. What about that mysterious third? She dismissed the skittish thought quickly. These instincts had been denied for too long. She was a child of the midnight sun and, as she shifted, she felt its power surging through her veins.
Dropping onto all fours beside Samson, Valetta’s Arctic werewolf threw back her head and gave a single, triumphant howl.
Side by side, the two Arctic werewolves ran through the forest, moving in time with each other. The male was much larger and stronger than the female. Beside his powerful frame, she appeared lithe and slender. He was protective of her, shortening his long strides to match hers, pausing if he thought she was tiring of the pace. Their coats gleamed like snow under the luminous glow of the midnight sun. High on a ridge overlooking the river, he paused, his body language inviting her to come to him. She knew her place. Crouching low, she rubbed her face against his and he graciously allowed this gesture of submission.
They moved together and apart repeatedly, challenging and inviting. Almost dancing. When they came together for the final time, she rolled onto her back, trusting him completely, presenting her unprotected belly to him. He stood over her, baring his teeth as if he were about to rip out her tender throat. Instead, he rested his maw against her neck, pressing lightly to reinforce his dominance. When he released her, he nudged his nose lower, scenting her and marking her with his own essence. A low growl rose from his throat, a sound that might be anticipation. As he nuzzled the soft fur of her stomach, the female scampered to her feet. The male snarled his disappointment, but she was already running from him toward the forest. With his long strides, he easily caught up to her and they ran together once more.
Samson was undecided about which was more alluring. Getting Valetta to lose her fears and shift to run through the forest with him, or the sight of a naked Valetta when they shifted back. On balance, he decided both were equally enticing.
“What do we do now?” Clearly embarrassed, she made an attempt to cover herself, while trying not to look at him. “You’re used to this, but I can’t just stroll back into the compound with no clothes on.”
“This is one of the hazards of spontaneous shifting,” he admitted. “Forward planning takes the fun out of it, but it’s always better if you can have a change of clothes stashed away somewhere.”
As a rule, his own nakedness didn’t bother Samson. On this occasion, he was finding it problematic. Just looking at Valetta, being this close to her with no barriers between them, was turning him on. She was right, he was used to this. He had shifted with females before and managed to control himself. So what the hell was wrong with him this time? But he already knew the answer. It was the same reason his Arctic werewolf had come so close to claiming her just now. His attraction to Valetta was endangering his ability to think straight, as a man and a wolf. For the time being, there was no hiding place for an erection that was beginning to assume epic proportions. And Valetta had noticed. She couldn’t fail to. Although she was making heroic efforts to keep her eyes on his face, they kept darting south, widening each time they caught sight of his cock. Her face was flushed and she looked likely to gnaw right through her lower lip.
One of us has to mention it.
“You should take this as a compliment.”
“I . . . um . . .” Her face reddened even more, and she drew a breath. “I’ve never seen a naked man before.”
This conversation wasn’t helping. “We all look pretty much the same.” It wasn’t entirely true, but he didn’t feel it was the right time to explain the whole “size matters” debate.
She drew a shaky breath, plunging into her next sentence. “What happened back there, when we shifted, I mean, what almost happened—”
“Valetta, we’re werewolves. I’m male, you’re female. Wolves get urges.” He said it casually, not mentioning that, in all the years since Anna’s death, the urge to mate with
another female, human or wolf, was something that had never happened to him until now.
She hung her head. “It’s just . . . I’m not ready to mate. I don’t know enough about what it would mean for me.”
Samson had to resist the impulse to go to her and draw her into his arms. Because with a hard-on like the one he was currently sporting, that would be a recipe for . . . well, he knew what it would be a recipe for, and while disaster might not be the word he was seeking, it wouldn’t be helpful. For either of them. Instead, he became brisk. “I’m going to look for something to cover ourselves. You wait here.”
“What if someone comes along? I don’t want to have to explain myself to a group of hunters.”
“Hide in those bushes. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Samson shifted into wolf form again and ran swiftly through the forest toward the compound. The sun was no longer sitting on the horizon, so Valetta, bound by the restraints of her Arctic heritage, would not have been able to shift with him. Or would she? He needed to find out more about the Shadow Wolf and its offspring. The story was a strange one, but Samson, a member of the Brotherhood of the Midnight Sun, was used to strange. Strange was what he did best.
He shifted back just before he reached the Guardian compound. Even though the action left him naked and exposed as he walked toward the caves, he didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that he could shift at will. It was the ace up his sleeve and he preferred to keep it secret.
It was curiously quiet in the compound and Samson’s sixth sense kicked in. It was too quiet. There was no one around. Moving swiftly through the cave complex, he reached the tiny cell Valetta had assigned to him and grabbed a towel, wrapping it around his waist. The only Guardian member approaching Samson’s size was Konrad, and he guessed the other man wouldn’t be overkeen on a clothes-sharing arrangement. Samson shrugged. He wasn’t planning on asking nicely.