She did not accept the white wolf as her mate. Her connection to the ruby blade wasn’t complete. Therefore, her connection to the Romanov wolf was also incomplete. And Lev Romanov hadn’t shifted for months. Perhaps he was so glad to be back in his human form he would reject his shift forevermore.
Just in case, Aleksandr had taken steps to ensure that Madeline and the scarred man who would no longer shift into his white wolf form would never come together again. He had invaded Krajina, intent on killing the former ruby warrior and her baby. He planned to destroy any possibility of the youngest Romanov reclaiming his wife and son.
His plan hadn’t failed. It was merely taking more effort than he had expected. Queen Vasilisa was supposed to have been traveling that day. Her presence had caused a last-minute alteration of his plans. But Lev and Madeline were obviously broken. It was up to Aleksandr to ensure that their damage was permanent. Then he would claim Vasilisa’s throne while the Romanov wolves grieved.
Eventually, he would make sure that the Romanovs’ abilities died out. There would be no one to stand in his way.
Marked or not.
His fingers slid over and over the raised skin on his brow, but not in an attempt to wipe it away. He and his followers would wear the blackened petals on their foreheads with pride.
And the flower on his temple would be framed by a crown.
Chapter 8
Lev found the alpha wolf in a cave above a clearing where the amassed wolves had collapsed as the sun rose. They didn’t behave as they should. The morning light revealed that they waited like puppets on the end of lax strings. He couldn’t see their masters or even smell them on the breeze, but the Volkhvy had to be behind the wolves’ odd behavior. Every wolf from old to young lay with their noses on their paws, as if they waited for instructions.
Only the alpha moved when Lev approached. He came from his shallow den on unsteady legs as though his natural protective instincts overcame the control imposed by the witches, but only with a fight. The tawny wolf’s barrel chest heaved harshly, and Lev felt a pang of empathy. He might have to fight the alpha. He might even have to kill him, if to be killed was the only alternative. But he didn’t like it. He knew what it was like to be manipulated by Volkhvy tricks and treachery.
He hardened his heart and stepped to meet the alpha wolf. He was less than half the size Lev would have been if he had been able to shift into his white-wolf form. But compared to Lev’s human form, the wolf was formidable. Especially if Lev was forced to meet the wolf’s large teeth with nothing but his fists.
They met eye-to-eye on the edge of the rise above the clearing. The wolves below remained on their bellies—a further indication that they were not in their right minds. Dominant wolves might fight for control of a pack, but an intruder would normally be met and driven away if a pack was sound.
“Leave this place. Resist. Don’t allow yourselves to be used by witches who aren’t even strong enough to fight their own battles,” Lev said. His words might be meaningless to the alpha wolf, but his stance and his intentions were not. The full might of the white wolf was in his voice and his gaze.
But more than that, he was here to defend his family. After years of searching for them, he wasn’t about ready to back down from a fight once they’d been found. He wouldn’t allow sympathy for these wolves to get in the way of protecting Madeline and rescuing Trevor.
The tawny leader of the pack whined. If he’d been free, he might have sprung for Lev’s throat or turned to run away from his challenge. Instead, he collapsed onto his belly, and his nose slowly descended to lie on his outstretched paws.
He definitely wasn’t normally submissive. The tawny wolf’s whines confirmed that the position at the feet of an adversary wasn’t his choice. He was being forced to wait. Lev turned to look down on the clearing. Several more wolves had arrived to join those waiting below. There were at least twenty prime adults now. The Volkhvy weren’t going to settle for a large pack. They were calling an army of wolves. And he couldn’t kill them where they lay. He couldn’t fight them until they attacked. Right now they were innocent. How could he harm them without provocation? He might be a savage monster, but he wasn’t going to exterminate these wolves when they had done nothing wrong.
“They’re going to wait until there are too many of you for me to fight, aren’t they?” Lev asked. He didn’t expect a reply. If he fell before an army of wolf fangs, it would be ironic. He’d always thought the wolf gnawing inside his own breast would devour him. Now he wasn’t so sure.
The tawny alpha dragged himself to his feet. Lev’s heart leaped, but the wolf didn’t attack. He only stretched his nose out to touch Lev’s loosened fist. In spite of the witch’s manipulations, the wolf acknowledged Lev’s dominance. For a second, hope rose, but the powerful creature fell back down on his belly after the exertion of briefly disobeying his witch masters.
“We are only pawns to the Volkhvy, my wild brother. I will remember that you tried,” Lev promised.
* * *
Madeline woke to an adrenaline rush. She scrambled to her feet to face an invisible threat. Lev was gone. The fire had burned itself out. A pile of smoking ash was all that was left as the sun dried the mountain mist that rose from the ground.
The forest was preternaturally silent. No birds sang. No rodents scurried through the trees. Something was very wrong. She felt her empty arms keenly, but she’d already known Trevor was gone. Waking to that truth wasn’t a surprise, although there was still a sharp pain and a hollow in her heart that echoed in the silence.
The rush of fear she’d experienced still caused her skin to prickle and her breathing to be shallow and quick. In fact, she felt suddenly as if she was running even though her feet were still. Madeline pressed her empty hands to her stomach, but only for a second before she bent to pick up her sword off the ground. She had to obey her instincts and the signals her body was giving her even if she didn’t understand: there was a threat. It was urgent that she face it. She just wasn’t sure what or why.
When Lev silently erupted from the trees, his body powerfully intent on his destination—her. Madeline’s sword was already raised in defense. He appeared between one blink and the next, and as he came to a stop only inches from her, she lowered her blade. He wasn’t shifting. He was still a man. His broad chest rose and fell, and it only took a few inhales and exhales in unison for Madeline to know that their breathing was in sync.
His exertion was her exertion.
Her gaze tracked over the hard face tilted toward hers to the hollow of Lev’s throat, where his pulse throbbed. As she watched, she felt the same beat—strong and steady—beneath her rib cage. The same rhythm. It wasn’t only their breathing that had synced.
They hadn’t touched since the training session by the creek, but somehow, she’d woken in tune with him in a way she hadn’t been before.
Her attention rose back to his eyes. They glimmered blue beneath thick sooty lashes as he met the shock she could feel widening her eyes.
Madeline held her breath as Lev’s breathing slowed. If she hadn’t, she was certain hers would have slowed as well. At least until the man facing her raised his hand to touch one calloused finger to the hollow of her throat. She didn’t pull away, even though she knew he felt the throbbing pulse point that was exactly in tune with his own.
“This was often the case when we faced adversity in the past. Don’t worry. It means nothing now. The ruby is dead,” Lev said. But he looked from his finger back into her eyes as if he thought it meant something in spite of his assurances. There were secrets she’d once understood in his irises. The sword didn’t glow. Lev couldn’t shift. But their heartbeats said those absent signs of connection were the lie.
“The alpha has lost control of the pack. He would have turned away if he could, but his body is no longer his,” Lev said. “He and his pack will do whatever the Volkhvy order them to do. For now, they wait, but it’s only a matter of time.”
His fi
nger was warm on her throat. She waited for him to draw it away, but instead he allowed that one gentle digit to stay. The pad of his forefinger lingered on her skin. He looked from her eyes to the place where his finger rested and back. Was he gauging her reaction? Measuring her response? When she breathed again, the rhythm of her respiration was her own, but it betrayed the shortness of breath she felt, not from exertion, but from other things. Impossible things. Like the pleasure of his slightest touch. Like the intrigue of him seeming to enjoy the flush of heat that spread from his finger outward.
She didn’t have to look down. She was pale. She was certain that the heat she felt was obvious to him. His keen notice was as much a caress as his touch. Her shirt was unbuttoned only enough to allow the slightest hint of cleavage where the fabric parted, but she was certain her skin was flushed pink above the white cotton.
He said he couldn’t shift, but surely he would become the white wolf when the wolves attacked. She reminded herself of that monster—his teeth, his howl, his savage red eyes. But it was hard to remember the beast when she was made breathless by the man. He towered over her, but his touch was gentle and light. He didn’t grab or take. He tested the waters of her desire. He watched her face and studied her eyes.
Madeline licked her lips and regretted the move instantly when Lev’s blue gaze fell to her mouth. It was his turn to flush. She watched the color rise above his golden beard and could have sworn that her temperature rose along with his.
“You’re afraid I’ll shift even though I’ve said I can’t,” Lev mused. He saw everything, always, even the fear she tried to fight.
“I came to Bronwal to find the white wolf. I need him to save our son,” Madeline said. Her hand tightened on the sword. She’d nearly forgotten it. Talk of the white wolf reminded her why she had accepted the blade from Anna—to protect herself from the threat that would ride by her side.
“You’re very brave. You always have been. But bravery doesn’t negate fear. Or ignore it. Bravery makes plans. Bravery prepares,” Lev said. He suddenly lifted his finger to softly trace the line of her jaw from the lobe of her ear to her chin. Madeline trembled. She was afraid. He was right. But fear wasn’t all she felt for him, and that was the scariest sensation of all.
“You want to remember your skill with the blade so you can protect yourself from me...from the white wolf,” Lev said. His voice was husky and low. Its rough tone was a pleasant burr against the skin he caressed. But his finger had paused as if he didn’t give it permission to continue.
The man respected her fear of the wolf.
“You say I’m a warrior. You say I’ve always been brave,” Madeline said. “But all I know about myself is that I want to be prepared to face any danger I have to face to save Trevor.”
Lev’s hand fell away from her face. He stepped back so suddenly that she was left cold by the rush of morning air that filled his place. Madeline shivered, but the distance accomplished one thing. Her heartbeat was her own. The organ in her chest pounded slowly as it established its own rhythm separate from his.
“I’m sorry I am one of the dangers. I can only promise to protect you—from all wolves, including the one that lives in me,” Lev said.
“I’ll protect myself,” Madeline said. She raised the sword to show how it fit in her hand. She rolled her shoulders. She’d made the preparatory move a hundred times before. She didn’t remember, but her body did.
Lev’s eyes widened. She thought she detected appreciation in the small, tight smile that curved his lips.
“You’re remembering,” he said.
“My mind grasps for memories I can’t reach, but my body never forgot,” Madeline said.
When Lev’s lips softened, Madeline looked away from his smile. Yes. She thought maybe there were other things her body remembered, but she would never be free to indulge them. She might be brave, but she wasn’t reckless. She couldn’t be. Not when Trevor’s future depended upon her decisions.
Chapter 9
The horses were skittish again. They had to be tied to trees as they packed up camp, and both the dun and the white horse pranced and pawed and danced away from their riders. This time it wasn’t Lev. Although her companion didn’t tilt his nose to the sky, the horses snorted with wide nostrils and worried their bits with nervous teeth.
The scent of the giant wolf pack was on the morning breeze.
It must be her imagination, but even she could detect a hint of predator in the air. The evergreen scent of the spruce trees was joined with a muskiness that made her think of damp fur and creatures used to sleeping in dens. She stilled the panic the scent instinctively caused. Her heart fluttered and she couldn’t fill her lungs, but she ignored the unpleasant sensation of being hunted as best she could.
“We’ll continue to Straluci. I don’t think we’ll get that far, but we’ll try. It was built in a good, defensible position. We would do better to have stone walls instead of forest at our backs,” Lev said.
He mounted, and then turned to wait for her. Madeline’s fingers fumbled under her task. He watched as she adjusted the ruby sword’s scabbard. Something about its angle suddenly seemed wrong to her. It wasn’t something she could ignore. Guided by instinct more than memory, she positioned the hilt of the sword where she wanted—no, needed—it to be.
Lev didn’t speak, but his eyes spoke volumes even as his lips stayed still. They gleamed a darker blue in the shadows of the trees. His eyelids narrowed speculatively at the edges. He thought the warrior he’d loved was waking, and maybe she was. Madeline moved with more certainty than she had before. But if she became the best swordsperson in the modern world, it wouldn’t change things between her and the white wolf.
She would never be the woman she’d been even if the warrior inside her woke. Too much had changed while she was sleeping. Lev had been molded into something more fierce and fabled than he’d been before. It wasn’t safe to desire the legendary beast he’d become. She had to keep her focus on Trevor.
Madeline pulled herself into the saddle. Her muscles were strengthening, day by day. She felt the stretch and release of fluidity in her limbs. Her fitness seemed right as if it was a return to the way she should be even though she didn’t remember. Once she settled into the saddle, Lev kneed his horse around and onto the trail with an inhuman grace that mocked her pleasure in her movements. He didn’t sit in the saddle. He held his weight in the stirrups as if he wanted to be ready to leap off the back of his horse should he need to. His muscular body moved with the horse’s gait, and the big, powerful dun seemed soft in comparison to the hardened man on his back.
There was no reason to notice the bulging of Lev’s arms as they directed the reins in his hands. The stretchy cotton of his long-sleeved shirt displayed more of his biceps and forearms than it covered. And his black leggings did the same for his long legs and strong thighs.
Madeline murmured to her horse about not being afraid of the wolves that stalked them, but her attention was far too focused on the wolf that led her down the trail. When she tried not to notice the grace and strength displayed in his horsemanship, her gaze skittered away from his legs and arms, only to land on his hair. He hadn’t tied his wild mane back into its queue this morning. Long blond waves blew around his face and shoulders, and in the occasional sunbeam that penetrated the thick forest canopy, the lone white streak was stark testimony to the life he’d once lived.
“You never liked my beard. You preferred when I was clean-shaven,” Lev suddenly said, and only then did Madeline know she’d been staring. They had come to a broader passage on the trail, and her horse had caught up with his. He released the reins with one hand to raise his fingers to the thick growth of golden hair on his chin. He smoothed it thoughtfully, as if reminiscing on memories she probably shared but couldn’t call up.
She only knew she would like to free him from some of the wildness that had claimed him, but that was a desire she wouldn’t reveal out loud. She didn’t have the right to want to s
mooth his hair back or see his face. He was a stranger to her now. He always would be. Shaved or not. And yet, as another ray of sun fell on his head, she could almost feel the heat of the golden halo it created around his face.
Was it memories between them or something more? The sword was dead. The ruby didn’t glow. There was no aura of power when she wielded it, no fire from her eyes or his. But there was a fire between them. It burned inside her and set her skin to flames, and it was kindled by his slightest touch. As their horses scraped the ground from lack of direction, Madeline’s attention fell, not to Lev’s beard but to his lips.
“You don’t remember,” Lev said.
“It’s been so long. Surely you don’t remember, either. In all the years, you must have forgotten,” Madeline said.
Lev edged the dun closer to the white one. The horses were more skittish than they’d been before. They nodded and worried at their bits while ignoring the greenery on the side of the trail. The dun stomped his large hooves and kicked out as if the wolves were already at his heels. Madeline kept her knees tight to hold her seat, but she wasn’t thinking about wolves, not natural ones or the white one she most feared. She closed her eyes at Lev’s searching gaze and the urge to remember his kiss. His soft, sensual mouth was so intriguing against his harder face and the angles of his cheeks. She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t stare. But when he spoke again, the mesmerizing quality of his voice on her other senses was heady.
“I remember every second of our time together. Every laugh. Every sigh. Every tear. Every taste. It was all written on my soul even when I was the white wolf. It drove me ever onward, year by year, through all the endless Ether nights,” Lev said hoarsely.
The meaning of his words soaked into her and warmed her as the sun had before. She blamed the warmth on a blush. His voice was low. His proclamation intimate. Every taste. Every sigh.
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