by Jan Delima
“But he’s still interested in controlling your gift.”
“Yes.” She looked down. “And I angered him. But I will deal with my next challenge when it comes. For now I just want to enjoy this day.”
Taking her cue, Cormack sat up only to pull an apple from the basket. He flipped open a jackknife and sliced the fruit with deft skill. A cup of peanut butter followed. Scooping a liberal amount onto a wedge, he handed it to her. “I know it’s your favorite.”
She accepted the offering. “You know too much about me, and I know nothing about you.”
“You know everything that’s important,” he returned. When she pursed her lips, he sighed. “Ask me what you want to know, and I will answer.”
He could have no idea what questions tempted her curiosity. If he had, he wouldn’t have opened this door. But now that he had, she thought of a neutral subject before he closed it. “What do you like most about . . .” She gestured to his new form.
He wiggled his fingers. “Hands.”
“You seem good with them.” She cringed as soon as the words left her mouth, but he didn’t catch the innuendo.
“Not at first,” he admitted. “Learning to talk was tedious,” he added, “and frustrating. I understood everything, but couldn’t get my tongue to form the words.”
Her heart clenched, wishing he had let her help him, but that argument had already been traveled. “It must have been a challenge.”
“Anything worth having is a challenge.”
Why did her heart pick up a beat with that statement? “Anything else in particular?” she prompted, because she was helpless to do anything but.
He rolled his eyes—so not the sentiment she was looking for. “Facial expressions. And emotions. It took a while to learn how to control them. Wolves have no need for deception, but humans do it without thinking. It’s natural.”
“Sometimes it’s for kindness,” she muttered. When we don’t want to hear the truth. And she needed to stop reaching for answers she might not want to hear.
Flopping back against the blanket, she concentrated on the branches overhead, watching the sun flicker in the leaves like nature’s flame.
Will you be my lover? That was the question burning for release. She had never realized that desire could be poisonous; a wanting so acute that acid churned in her belly, lodging against her heart. He made no signs of aspiring to a physical relationship beyond caregiver, except for that one incident—but that had been to prove a point.
“Will you keep a secret?” she asked instead.
“You know I will.” He reclined on his side, propping his weight on his elbow to lean toward her.
“Do I?” She tilted her head, watching the emotions cross his face. He had not mastered hiding them quite yet. Irritation was there, and hurt that she would ask such a thing. He had broken this trust when he left her, so it was not an impulsive concern.
“I will keep your secrets until the day I die.” His tone lowered in stark contrast to the glint raging in his cerulean eyes. “And I will fight anyone who dares harm you because of them.”
She believed him, because of their history and because her heart told her to. “Ms. Hafwen has shown me that my power is connected to the element of Earth, but that all the elements are connected to nature. I’m learning how to call the others.”
“That’s what your lesson was about when I wasn’t allowed to stay.”
She nodded. “It’s given me an insight into greater possibilities.”
He remained silent for a long while. “Does Pendaran know of this? Is that how you escaped?”
How had their conversation returned to him? Because Cormack was her personal guard, that’s how, a reminder she’d needed before doing something foolish.
“Yes.” Elen didn’t describe the image of him tangled in vines and screaming threats, but didn’t belittle the danger either. “He knows my gift has grown and that I have Otherworld knowledge.”
“You will practice more in the coming days.” Cormack had never cowered from her abilities, and his encouragement only made him that much more appealing. “You need to master whatever you learn.”
He was right, and now was as good a time as any to try. “I have yet to connect with Water.” She stood to stretch and kick off her socks and sneakers.
“What are you doing?”
“Going for a swim.” She swam nude, always had, and to change her routine would be cowardly, if not an insult. Even so, her heart raced as she hooked her thumbs under the waistband of her pants and shrugged them off, then yanked the T-shirt over her head. Her lace bra and panties joined her pile.
A sound came from Cormack, like a whoosh of breath, or a groan. When he looked away suddenly, she frowned. The flush that crawled up his neck suggested either embarrassment or annoyance, and she wasn’t sure which but suspected both.
“What’s wrong?” This was a common activity they’d enjoyed hundreds of times, which she pointed out to ease the sudden tension. “You’ve seen me nude countless times.”
Fourteen
She was trying to kill him. There was no other explanation—except for the obvious: Elen didn’t share his need; she didn’t feel the same hunger that was burning a hole in his gut like molten acid—so why not strip in front of him? And, as she pointed out, he had seen her nude countless times.
But that was before. Now he had an appendage that responded and the capability to touch and taste all that glowing skin. Did she not realize the temptation that posed? Elen was an active woman, working her own garden and walking more than she drove, and it showed.
He wanted to join her, but his cock was so damn hard it hurt. If he went in clothed, he’d look like an ass; if he joined her nude, he’d look like a randy ass. No choice but to stay here and suffer in silence as sweat beaded his brow.
“Go for your swim.” His voice sounded like a sword grinding against stone.
“Why don’t you join me?” She waded into the pool and turned to face him. Her breasts balanced on the surface of the bubbling waters. “It’s not that cold.”
No? Her nipples had hardened to taut peaks.
“I’ll trust your word on that,” he clipped. Had it just been this morning when he’d come damn close to feeling those delicate points?
“Your loss.” Taking a deep breath, she floated on her back. Her hair spread out around her like a golden shroud; a water nymph to seduce his soul.
Closing his eyes, Cormack pretended to sleep and willed his cock to behave. He heard her splashing about, and then silence. He almost opened his eyes to check on her when a wall of cold water robbed him of breath.
Jumping up, he sputtered, “What the hell?”
“Sorry.” Her hands tried to cover her giggle but her eyes echoed with impish glee. “I’m still learning control. I meant for it to be a small spray.”
Her small spray had instead been a large wave that had soaked the banks of the falls and everything on them, him included. Even now, the pool swirled around her floating form as if building momentum for another upsurge.
“You need more practice.” He tried to hold back a grin, but it was impossible with her. “And,” he warned, “a payback.”
The water had cured the problem with his appendage, so he stripped out of his clothes, hung them on a nearby branch along with the soaked blanket. His sword he placed near the bank. Their towels and basket had been spared, and he moved them farther away.
When he turned back, her face had cleared of all mischief. “What’s wrong?” He threw her earlier words back to her. “You’ve seen me nude countless times.”
“Doesn’t count.” Eyes wide, she shook her head. “You were covered in fur.”
Her curiosity was natural, he knew, but he waded in quickly before his body responded. He was aware that women, and some men, were attracted to him. Many at Avon had made obvious
advances, right down to whispered descriptions of what they wanted to teach him.
Elen, on the other hand, was impossible to read; she made no obvious advances or heated whispers of wicked promises. That one time before Pendaran’s arrival was the first he’d ever seen her aroused, but even now he questioned if he’d misread her.
A sigh fell from his mouth. If only she would just rub her hand over his crotch like Tesni had done, and there’d be no confusions. He didn’t read human subtleties well, and refused to risk losing Elen with the crudities of his inexperience. Like her, he would simply enjoy this day.
The water was cold but not unpleasant once his body adjusted. The gravel bottom stirred under his feet as he waded to the center near Elen. It felt good to be here with her, creating new memories from old, and seeing her smile. In the spring, when the pool was fed by melting snow, it could numb extremities in seconds, but these waters had been heated by summer. Ducking under the surface, he grabbed her by the ankles and flipped her.
She emerged half sputtering and half laughing. “Not fair. You’ve never done that before.” Wiping her hair back from her face, her eyes shone with exhilaration, a far cry from the lifeless form he held mere days ago.
Grinning, he wiggled his fingers. “Hands.”
Her expression turned serious. “I missed you, Cormack,” she whispered. Wading toward him, she hugged him briefly and then stepped back. “I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable . . .” She shrugged as if to lighten the moment. “But I just needed you to know that I’ve missed our times together.”
The shock of the impulsive embrace left him floundering for a response. Skin, he realized then, was its own erogenous receptor; thousands of nerve endings felt the slippery slide of her arms and pointed nipples against his chest. However brief, he burned in places he didn’t know how to control.
“I missed you as well.” More than my heart can stand. His voice was as rough as the gravel under his feet, and just as unstable. A drop of water trailed from her hair and fell to her lips. Drawn by the moment, or by a need that had been denied for too long, he leaned forward, wanting to taste that drop.
But he wasn’t sure how, or if his attentions were even welcomed in a carnal capacity.
Her lips trembled under his gaze.
“You’re cold.” He groaned because of his selfishness. “We’ve stayed too long.”
“I’m not,” she argued in a breathless voice. Worse, she shuddered—as if freezing.
And here he’d been contemplating on how to kiss her.
“Out,” he ordered, pushing her toward the edge. “You’ve had your walk, practice and a swim. Now it’s time to get you home and warmed up.”
* * *
All twenty guards met on Emerald Moss Trail as the sun began to set, summoned by their alpha to discuss upcoming events. All were shifters except for Porter, but he had earned his ranking by skill and viciousness on the battlefield. Cormack remained on the outskirts to keep an eye on Elen’s cottage in the distance. After returning from the falls, she worked in her garden with a pixie close by, but he could be there in under a minute if necessary.
Dylan stood at the front of their gathering, his stance wide as he addressed the group. Except for the black eyes, his coloring was similar to Elen’s, but where her features were soft and welcoming, his were stark and unyielding. “As you all know, Merin is here. She is willing to share insight on the Council, and she has earned my audience by her actions at Avon’s battle. I believe she’s cut ties with the Guardians,” he affirmed, but with hesitation. “Make no mistake, Guardian or not, my mother is the most powerful warrior in our midst at this time.”
“How long are you allowing her to stay?” Sarah asked.
“Two days.” Dylan’s gaze flicked to Cormack in silent warning. “After she leaves I’ll be going to Isabeau’s territory to meet with our allies. I’ll be there from Thursday to Friday. While I’m gone, you will answer to Porter and my mate.”
“And Pendaran?” This came from John. Lanky as a man but lethal as a wolf, the guard kept a groomed beard and cropped brown hair. His mate was Gwenfair, the local teacher in the village.
“We’ve prepared as best we can, but I feel this battle may take place on grounds we can’t see. He doesn’t think like a warrior, so we mustn’t either. I’ve learned that he’s still weakened from his last attack on my sister for at least another few days. Also, I doubt Pendaran will allow any form of impediment to be seen by others. With that said, I don’t trust his personal reach, or his manipulations. Our alert status is down, but be watchful for the unexpected.”
“If we have a reprieve, can I tell my wife to open our barn for visitors?” John asked in a neutral tone, but the fact that he broached the topic proved he’d been prodded by a personal source. “Her harvest party was to be tonight before it was canceled. Everything’s prepared. If the waste isn’t necessary, we’ll tell everyone to come grab some food.”
Sarah snickered. “Afraid you’ll be eating chicken salad sandwiches for a week, John?”
“More like pissing pink punch for a month,” he muttered.
Dylan held up his hand as more bantering followed. “Tell Gwenfair to have her harvest party. Merin will be with Sophie and me tonight, but perhaps Elen will attend in our place . . .” He looked to Cormack to answer.
“I will ask her,” he said. “She’s in good health today.” Enough to strip and drive him to the point of making a near fool of himself, but he didn’t share that in current company.
John stiffened, and then looked away.
Cormack should have remained silent, but any insult against Elen annoyed him. He knew she would enjoy the company of the villagers . . . if they would but welcome her. “What’s the matter, John? Is Elen not invited?”
Immediately, Dylan pinned the guard with a displeased glare. “If I ever learn my sister is not welcome at an event in my territory, the person holding the event won’t be welcome either.” Quiet words given with lethal impact. “Is that clear, John?”
He sent Cormack a cutting glare for outing his discomfort. “I’ll make sure Gwenfair and the women know to welcome her.”
Meaning he’d be warning them to be nice.
“We’ll see you there,” Cormack said.
After Dylan dismissed the other guards, he motioned for Cormack to stay. They walked in silence toward the cottage, until the man gave a frustrated sigh. “If I keep the villagers on constant alert, they’ll begin to feel trapped and resent Elen more than they already do. If she’s not received well, let me know. This fear they have of her has gone on long enough.”
“They associate her power with that of the Guardians,” Cormack said, having overheard more than one conversation on the subject when they knew he couldn’t share. “But I think it’s her lack of control they fear more. She’s getting better, as you’ve noticed.”
Once at the cottage, they found Elen in her garden cutting pumpkins off their vines. She wiped her hand across her forehead as they approached, leaving a streak of dirt. “Hi,” she said to her brother. “I feel great, so you can remove that worried frown.”
Not a man to prolong the inevitable, Dylan informed her, “Merin’s here. She’s staying two days, and she wants to see you. I told her that it’s up to you.”
Her expression fell. Cormack wanted to reach out to her but held his stance in front of her brother’s sharp gaze. “It’s time,” she said after a moment, “but not tonight.”
“How about breakfast before she leaves? I won’t tell her either way.” Dylan hugged her briefly. “Think about it and let me know tomorrow night.”
Cormack waited until her brother left, helping her pile the pumpkins on the back porch. The scars on Elen’s spine were not the true damage caused by her mother, he knew. Merin had rejected her children, shunned them to do the Council’s bidding, and Elen had had almost nineteen hundred years t
o build her walls against that pain. It took more than a summer to tear them down. “Are you okay?”
“I am,” she said with conviction. “But I’m hungry. I think we should go see what else Sophie sent over in all those bags.”
He reached out and wiped the smudge of dirt off her forehead. How many times had he wanted to do that as a wolf? “Gwenfair is having a harvest gathering, and we’ve been invited. Are you up for it?”
Her features lit with excitement before she squelched it. “I’ll only make them uncomfortable.”
“What if I want to go?” He didn’t really. Cormack would much rather spend the evening alone with her. “Would you go with me?”
Fifteen
How had she let him talk her into this? Because he’d looked at her with those cerulean eyes and a mouth made for pleasure when asking—that’s how.
Elen wore a dress she’d bought on a whim. It was sensual in a simple way; a date dress, for a woman who never dated. The material was soft, clingy and the perfect shade of purple, reminding her of lilac buds before they bloomed. It wrapped around her waist and fell to mid-thigh, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Cormack had snuck more than once glance at her legs.
They traveled by car, but he drove the eight-mile stretch into town, just one more thing he’d learned to do well without her. They took the back road that led to John and Gwenfair’s home, a Victorian farmhouse with gingerbread trimmings and a red barn set back from the house. A few cars lined the driveway, but many of the villagers had walked.
Forcing a smile, Elen refused to let anyone know how nerve-racking this was for her, especially Cormack—because he had wanted to come. Long tables were set up in rows inside the barn for people to sit and chat. Party lights strung from rafters added a soft glow. A modern sound system played music on a cleared section of the boarded floor where several couples danced.