by Jan Delima
He ignored them all, easy enough to do—except when two of them actually approached through the kitchen gardens with determination in their feminine strides, holding a basket of what smelled like warm bread. They were sisters, Sulwen and Lydia; he knew their names, but he was in no mood for their giggles and flirtations, when they had never offered him even a parting glance before now. Enid, their mother, managed the kitchens of Rhuddin Hall.
Sarah, now the head of Dylan’s guard and Cormack’s direct supervisor, waved him toward the inner gatehouse, her office of sorts. The enclosed room protected the controls of the retracting iron gates and was large enough for a desk, two chairs, and a landline to the main house and outer posts. When he entered the small space, she tilted her head toward the sisters. “Give them some slack. No one could’ve guessed you’d turn out to be so pretty. The novelty will wear off soon.”
“Not soon enough,” he muttered. Had his expression warranted a warning? It must have, he realized, and he made a conscious effort to relax the muscles of his face.
Cormack had studied and trained for several months to master this new human form, and still had much to learn, but at least he was no longer a bumbling oaf. He’d lived for centuries as a wolf, but only six months as a man. Moreover, he’d had the mind of a human while trapped in a body he couldn’t change. He understood eight human languages, but knowing them and speaking them with an unfamiliar tongue had been a challenge—a challenge he’d conquered before returning home.
More important, he’d learned how to wield a sword, still the most efficient weapon used by his kind. Their immortality had two weaknesses: one’s head and heart must remain attached. Other less vital bits healed during a shift—if one had the ability to call their other half, which he now did. Thanks to Elen.
However, there were nuances of humanity that continued to elude him. Like facial expressions, and discerning when to hide them. Wolves had no use for such trivial deceptions. They took what they wanted and expressed what they felt.
Sarah chuckled over his response. Tall and lithe like many women of their kind, she was lethal in both wolf and human forms. And loyal. She had earned her position, and the respect of the other guards. Even so, her responsibilities demanded severity. She kept her red hair shorn to her scalp to deny her enemy an accessory to grab and leverage against her in combat. As usual, she wore leather pants with zippers up the sides for easy removal if a shift became necessary. Her sword rested on her left side, held by a studded scabbard.
“Well, you’re saved from this ambush, at least,” she said, then raised her voice loud enough for Lydia and Sulwen to hear. “Dylan wants to see you in his office. I’ll watch your post until you return.”
Cormack gave a nod of gratitude and strode in the opposite direction of the sisters. He remembered when Rhuddin Hall had been a rectangular structure that resembled many of America’s earlier defensive forts. Over the years, additions had been added, with turrets on all four corners and walkways along the roof. It was now a fortress to defend the alpha’s family who lived within its stone walls.
Choosing the side entrance away from the kitchens, he paused to acknowledge Porter. The man sat behind a wall of computers with various live feeds of Rhuddin Village and the forests beyond displayed on the screens. “Dylan asked to see me.” Humans, Cormack had learned, needed addressing with words, even on matters they already knew. He supposed it showed acknowledgement, but in his opinion they talked too much, and if they kept their mouths shut, things would be much easier.
“He’s waiting for you.” Porter managed technology within the territory, but his primary role was to guard the alpha’s family, a position that outranked even Sarah’s; porters were second only to the alpha. This one kept his head shaved to flaunt a Celtic cross on his bare cranium, a tribute to his Irish mother. Porter had always been tolerant of Cormack’s presence, even as a wolf, perhaps because the man couldn’t shift, though many stories were told of his viciousness in battle. His true name was Finnbarr, just one of many secrets Cormack knew of the people who lived in Dylan’s territory.
As a wolf, Cormack had been invisible to everyone but Elen.
The door to Dylan’s office was open; he knocked to announce his presence and then waited—yet another human custom he’d trained himself to perform. Dylan sat behind a large wooden desk carved in the shape of a crescent moon, resting on three howling wolves.
Not a leader to waste time, he waved for Cormack to take a seat. “Damn, I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to seeing you as a man.” Neither did he avoid awkward subjects. “You have the look of your family.”
Cormack’s throat thickened. Memories of his sisters hung heavy in the air. I will not betray you as my family did, he wanted to say but held his tongue.
Dylan gave a solemn sigh. “I see shame in your eyes and I won’t have it.” He refused to let the matter pass without addressing it. “There’s much history between your family and mine. Some good. Some not. Our actions were fueled from here.” He made a fist over his chest. “Mine as much as theirs. I don’t condone what your sisters did. But I understand why. It’s the Guardians who own that blame, not you, not me—and not your family. We will let it rest and remember them with the respect they deserve.”
Siân and Taran had paid for their betrayals with their lives in the same conflict that had forced Elen to take a Guardian’s ability to shift and give it to Cormack. Siân had succumbed under torture in a neighboring territory, while Taran had given the location of Dylan’s family, including Elen, to protect her daughter. Melissa, Cormack’s niece, was the only family he had left. Everyone else—siblings, uncles, aunts, cousins, even his parents—had met violent deaths by Guardian hands.
Cormack blinked away the burning sensation in his eyes. Emotions, especially ones concerning regret and loss, were a human disadvantage he had yet to control. He focused on a subject he could address without weakness. “Have the Guardians made contact?”
Avoiding the question, Dylan veered the topic back to his obvious agenda—reviewing Cormack’s performance. “Sarah’s informed me that you’ve proven capable of your position.”
“I wouldn’t have taken the post if I wasn’t.”
A glint entered Dylan’s dark gaze, one that indicated approval. “Why did you accept? I know Luc offered you a post in Avon.” Pride filled his voice when referring to his younger brother. Luc resided in Avon with Rosa, his wife. Only a four-hour drive from Maine, Luc and Rosa’s land was located on an island surrounded by rivers in the White Mountains territory of New Hampshire.
It was where Cormack had been for the last few months preparing for his return. “I belong here.” Rhuddin Village was his home. More important, it was Elen’s.
“No other reason?” Dylan pressed.
Only one that matters. Cormack began to suspect the true motivation behind this interrogation. However, he too had learned how to evade, and since Elen wasn’t the person sitting before him, he offered another reason. Not the entire truth, but earnest nonetheless. “You took me in as a Bleidd.” “Wolf” in their mother tongue, but the Guardians used the term with disdain for those of their kind born in wolf form who couldn’t shift. He should have been killed at birth, but his family had refused the Guardians’ order and was hunted as a result. “You were the only leader who offered us sanctuary. Now that I can shift, I will protect others of our kind who can’t—just as you did for me.”
Silence filled the room, but not an uncomfortable one. Dylan frowned as if pondering the best course of action to resolve a troubling situation. “I don’t take my brother’s guards without a valid purpose,” he eventually said. “I have a personal request, but I would have some answers from you first.”
Cormack had accepted his offer without much thought, because he’d been ready to return. But this family’s loyalty to one another was greater than most, and with neighboring territories, their united bond posed a
dangerous threat to the Guardians, especially now that their enemies were aware of the untamed power this land offered.
And of the beautiful woman who graced its forest. She was the greatest treasure of all. And sensing this request somehow involved her, Cormack said, “Ask and I will answer.”
“I believe you care for my sister. Am I mistaken?”
Feeling the muscles tense in his forehead, Cormack made a conscious effort to hide his expression. “You’re not mistaken.”
“Elen, as you know, is stubborn concerning her independence.” Frustration bled from Dylan’s voice as he broached the topic of its source. “And too damn kindhearted for her own good.”
Cormack grunted in agreement. “Yes.” An understatement, but the truth.
“You were . . .” Dylan paused. “Friends.”
Cormack despised that word when it referred to his relationship with Elen. “We were companions, nothing—” He snapped his mouth shut. He’d been about to say nothing more, but to insinuate such a thing would be an insult not only to Elen but to his own honor.
Taking swift advantage of his blunder, Dylan leaned forward. “Now that you can, you would have more than friendship, were she to offer.”
Cormack felt trapped—and manipulated into revealing more than he planned. Not even Elen knew his true heart. But it was not only his alpha who held his gaze, but a man concerned for his sister. Wolves, when it came to claiming their intentions, didn’t play games with words.
And his beast raged to be heard. “Yes, I would have more, but I will settle for companionship if that’s all she offers.” His tone had been too sharp, he realized, when Dylan’s gaze narrowed. “I would never harm Elen. Or take anything she isn’t willing to give.”
“Ease your wolf, Cormack.” An order, but the scent of the forest filled the office, called by Dylan to help him concede without shame. “You wouldn’t be here now if I thought you would harm her. Don’t forget I was there the night my sister ripped a Guardian’s power from his body and gave it to you.”
Elen had done it to save Joshua, Dylan’s teenage son, and the separation of wolf and man hadn’t gone well. The results had left the Guardian a keening mass of distorted flesh.
“She called for you,” Dylan reminded him, as if the memory could be forgotten. “When even Guardians fled in terror, it was you who went to her without regard to your own life.”
How could I not? “She was hurting.” Elen never kept the power she received, and she’d needed a source to accept it. He had offered himself as that source.
“The villagers are frightened of her.” Dylan made a motion with his hand that expressed his disappointment. “More now with you walking about. You are undeniable proof of her power.” His dark gaze searched Cormack’s.
What did he expect to find? Regret? Or doubt? When it came to Elen, he had none. “They are fools.”
Dylan nodded in agreement. “So you’re not afraid of her?”
“No,” Cormack scoffed.
“Then please explain to me why you’ve been avoiding her. I don’t pry without reason, so I’ll have the truth from you now before I decide whether you’re the right person for the task I require.”
Cormack looked away, struggling for an explanation. In the end, he chose blunt honesty. “I needed to learn how to wipe my own ass.” His ineptness during those first few weeks as a man hadn’t been something he wanted Elen to witness. “Literally.”
“Ah.” Dylan reclined in his chair, easing the tension in the room. “And knowing my sister, she would have wanted to help.” He chuckled then, no doubt from the image his words evoked. “Literally.”
“She’s a healer.” Cormack found no humor in his situation. “Helping others is what she does.”
“You’ve been home for a week. What’s stopping you now?”
I don’t know how to approach her. As a wolf, yes—but not as a man. Pathetic, he knew, but having a nice little chat with a group of Guardians seemed more achievable than facing Elen in her current mood. All his experiences in life hadn’t prepared him for a pissed-off woman. It left him on unstable ground. “I’m giving her time to adjust.”
Dylan winced. “Gods no . . . don’t do that! Just trust me on this . . . Women don’t think that way. Go to her. Now. And talk. They like it when you talk. And be prepared to grovel.”
Cormack held back his surprise. “You would advise me on how to approach your sister?”
“Elen insists on remaining at her cottage.” Irritation flicked across his face. “I don’t want her there alone. She trusted you once, and you proved worthy of that trust. For over three centuries, you were her shadow. I need you to be so again. Are you willing to protect her?”
Willing? Cormack took a moment before answering to clear his expression and calm his beast. The true intensity of his feelings wasn’t something Dylan should witness, but the man wanted assurances, and he would have them. “I will protect her until the day I can no longer draw air into my lungs.”
“I’m counting on it.” Apprehension riddled his cryptic response, as if he’d been forced to make a concession due to a greater concern. “I’m assigning you as Elen’s personal guard.”
Three
Elen froze in the doorway of Dylan’s office, having overheard a murmur of male voices as she approached, unable to distinguish the conversation until she rounded the corner. But the last damning bit registered all too clearly: I’m assigning you as Elen’s personal guard. Blood pounded about her temples as she stared at the back of Cormack’s head and realized who’d been assigned.
“Absolutely not!” She barely breathed through her outrage. Even worse, she regretted her words as soon as they left her mouth, because a tiny part of her—okay, not so tiny—wanted him back in her life. But she wanted him there by choice. Not by assignment.
Conversation ceased. Her brother, wise to her wishes, immediately cleared his expression. Cormack, not so wise, looked appropriately guilty.
And so absurdly beautiful, she despised him all the more. No, “despise” was the wrong sentiment, for she could never feel that way toward him, but his rejection had hurt. And he had rejected her at a time when she’d needed his understanding the most.
Now he regarded her with hooded eyes the deepest color of blue, as if all the delphiniums in her garden had propagated to form the richest shade and gifted it upon him. His hair had grown past the unruly stage and hung about his shoulders in a mass of auburn waves. Even now, her hands itched to explore its texture.
His build, large as a wolf, and just as large as a man, had been honed over the last few months. Wide shoulders tapered down to a trim waist. She could only imagine what waited under his serviceable navy sweater and worn jeans.
“You will either accept a guard at your cottage,” Dylan said, drawing her attention away from pointless musings, “or you will move into Rhuddin Hall.” The worry in his voice softened the order but also warned that his mind was set. “Those are your two options.”
A terse reply hovered on her tongue, but she held it back. As the leader of this territory, his orders required respect; as her brother who’d sacrificed much to keep her safe, he would always have hers. Moreover, her wish for privacy was a petty thing when dragons delivered invitations to dance. “I need to speak with you alone.” The matter of Cormack must wait, for they had more pressing concerns. She walked around the desk to stand in front of Dylan. “It’s urgent.”
“Does this urgent matter involve your welfare?” His voice came at her from behind, deep, masculine, and curious—as if he had the right to insinuate himself back into her life without even a hint of remorse.
“Please leave, Cormack.” Elen had only heard him speak one other time. It affected her now as much as it did then. She couldn’t concentrate with him in the room. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“I disagree.” The obstinate man didn’t bu
dge from his chair. “As your personal guard, everything in your life concerns me.”
She could only stare. He’d changed in more ways than fur to flesh. The wolf she remembered would have respected her wishes.
“Stay if you must,” she said in a flippant tone, as if this new attitude didn’t disturb her in the least. When, in actuality, her heart beat in a rhythm so frantic she feared he might hear it. Gathering her composure, she handed the letter to her brother and waited while he read.
Tight-lipped, Dylan placed the parchment on his desk. “Who delivered it?”
“You should be asking me what delivered it.” Elen gave a brief accounting of the conjuring of clouds.
He remained deep in thought for several moments. “You’re not leaving Rhuddin Village to face him alone, if that’s what you’re planning in that head of yours.”
“If that were the case, I’d already be gone.” Not that the idea hadn’t crossed her mind, but running would only make her family appear weak, a greater risk when dealing with Pendaran. No, this threat must be faced directly at home—preferably hers.
A low growl filled the room, lifting the hairs at her nape, more because it had come from Cormack and not her brother. He held the crumpled letter in his fist. Obviously he’d learned how to read. Among other things, she was sure.
“What the fuck is this?” He brandished the wrinkled parchment in accusation. “That putrid ass mentioned a dress. Has he been contacting you?”
His outburst surprised her enough that it never occurred to her not to answer. “Pendaran has sent me a few gifts.”
“Gifts?” Apparently he’d also learned how to swear. Quite proficiently, in fact, as more vulgar words followed. “What kind of gifts?”