He must pay a price for it, of course. His followers looked at him differently now than they once had. Yet loss of their admiration was a small price to pay for a throne. He had their fear. It would be enough.
“Then he can be killed. No man can stand against the Volkhvy,” Aleksandr said. “And the woman? Is the ruby blade still dead in her hand?” he asked.
“The ravine seemed impassable. And yet they crossed it. The wolf pack couldn’t follow. But the woman didn’t fight the wolves. She crossed with Romanov and then they both disappeared,” his man replied. The witch had edged a little farther away from his master.
“Madeline is no longer an enchanted warrior. Her sword is dead in her hands. Tell our men to continue pursuit. The Romanovs’ connection must be disrupted. We failed to capture and kill her on Krajina. We cannot fail again. She must die,” Aleksandr ordered. “Before Lev Romanov reclaims his white-wolf form.”
“And the baby?” his man asked.
As Aleksandr turned back to the view he opened himself more to the Ether. His body spasmed in painful pleasure as the Darkness rushed in. Mention of the Romanovs’ child had only reminded him of Queen Vasilisa. He had to be as powerful as possible before he personally confronted the Light Volkhvy queen.
“He will die just as his parents will die. We will feed them to the Ether. The queen tormented her champions with a cycle of disappearances to punish them for their father’s betrayal. But I will banish them to the Ether. Never to return. They will die and I will claim the throne,” Aleksandr said. “And, perhaps, I will even claim the queen herself.”
The man behind him was silent. Whether he had run away or fainted, Aleksandr didn’t care. All he cared about was the black energy coursing through his body. No wonder the witchblood prince had been such a formidable Volkhvy. Rumor had been that he’d spent as much time in the Ether as possible, risking annihilation for longer and longer periods of time in order to increase his power.
Aleksandr leaned his body against the glass that separated him from the light outside. He could feel its pull. Before long, he was lost in a vision of his upcoming triumph—dead and decimated wolves and warriors and their families. A bound former queen as consort by his side. This cliff house as his royal seat, and the constant pleasure of all the Ether he could take.
He barely noticed his reflection in the glass, or the black tears of happiness that trailed down his face.
Chapter 13
Lev’s powerful legs ate miles of mountain one stride at a time. Madeline wasn’t a passive passenger. The journey was rough. The path tangled with branches and vines. Her body moved with his along every twist and turn. She dodged and ducked and pressed her face into Lev’s neck to avoid sticks and briars.
His kisses had woken something inside her. Not memories, but a longing to remember.
She still saw his savagery, but now she wasn’t blinded to other things—he had saved the horses from the wolves by letting them go, he had spared the wolves by not attacking them while they assembled and he had waited for her.
No. She couldn’t think about that other waiting. The thousand years of waiting was too overwhelming to contemplate. She could only focus on the days of waiting since they’d first stood face-to-face in the tower room.
He’d waited for her kiss.
And he wasn’t a calm and patient man. His wait burned. His wait throbbed. His wait trembled and shook with passion and fury. Yet still, it had been her touch that gave him permission to act on what they both desired.
He had waited for her. He had waited for that touch.
She couldn’t reconcile the truths she had learned about Lev Romanov with the truths she knew about the white wolf. Madeline needed the memories she’d lost to help her understand the creature who carried her through the Carpathian woods. Was he a man lost to the beast, or a beast lost within the man? The heat of Lev’s exertion caused his shirt to dampen beneath her hands. By midday, she could see moisture trickling down his neck.
And still he ran.
He wasn’t an ordinary man, but he was made of muscle and bone, as she was. Her hips screamed, and her thighs trembled from actively riding his every move all morning. Her own hair was damp on her head. Tendrils of moisture-darkened scarlet tumbled into her eyes.
She didn’t have memories to help her understand this man who pushed himself so ferociously, but she suddenly knew he would run until he fell down dead if she didn’t make him stop. He wouldn’t be able to fight the marked Volkhvy who had kidnapped their son if he killed himself to get to them.
“I can’t hold on much longer, Lev. You have to stop,” Madeline said. She didn’t shout, but rather murmured into his ear. Her lips brushed his earlobe. She tasted salt. She wasn’t sure if it was his perspiration or her own. “I have to rest. I need water and food.”
She was certain if she had told him that he needed to stop for himself, he would have ignored her. Maybe as the wolf, he had done this. Run until he collapsed, and then run some more with no one around to remind him to eat and drink and rest. No wonder he’d been lost to the beast for so long. While she’d been sleeping with Trevor, Lev had been alone. Left to the lonesome drive of the wolf in his heart.
“I’ll be worthless when we get there if I’ve died from dehydration,” Madeline said.
Lev’s speed dropped. He had sprinted all morning. Now his run changed to a lope, which changed to a fast walk. Madeline released his neck and slid to her numb feet when his walk slowed enough to allow it. She took several strides to catch her balance. She was propelled by the momentum, though Lev stopped easily with his muscular legs, still powerful even after they’d been pushed so hard for so long.
Feeling returned to her limbs as she stretched and moved away from the place where Lev had halted. She instinctively put some distance between her aching body and the tall, hard body that had carried her all morning.
But she couldn’t help looking.
Sweat plastered Lev’s shirt to his broad chest, and his vest didn’t hide the muscles the damp cotton revealed. Not his powerful pectorals or his rippled abdomen. His leather leggings were a second skin, stuck to his muscles by perspiration that only served to call attention to his strong legs.
“There’s water nearby,” Madeline said. The gurgle of a stream teased her ears once Lev’s feet were no longer pounding on the forest floor. The fresh scent of water-dampened earth and stone made her lick her lips. They’d eaten their last granola and changed into their fresh clothes that morning. Now Madeline’s stomach was almost as empty as her backpack, and her mouth was dry. Modern food left much to be desired. She craved fresh bread and tangy cheese. And a tankard of ale would be nice.
Instead, she settled for the cold water she found not far from where Lev had stopped. She crouched beside the tiny trickle of a mountain brook and scooped up water with her hands. She even savored the mineral bite of the liquid against her tongue as she hydrated.
At least until Lev joined her.
He had taken the leather cord from his hair, and he’d shed his sweat-dampened shirt and vest. Wild waves surrounded his head like a mane. He fell down on the moss beside the brook and stretched out flat on his stomach. He lowered his mouth to the water to drink. The water rushed over his face and hair as he buried his face in its cool flow.
While she had merely hydrated, it was like he completely refreshed himself. His whole body seemed to enjoy the brook and the moss and the cool respite of the shadowed forest glade. When he rose, it was with a powerful, graceful leap to a crouched position. He flipped his wet hair back from his face. An arc of water flew off him as he balanced on the balls of his feet.
And then he lifted his chin and met her eyes.
She should have looked away, but as their gazes connected, she was caught and held by the intensity in his blue eyes. He didn’t speak. He stood, silently, and walked toward her. Madeline had taken one last drink and risen to stand beside the brook. She’d meant to turn away, but she’d watched Lev instead, as t
ransfixed as she would have been watching any wild creature bow its head to drink.
“Water will have to be enough for now. We have to press on,” Lev said. “The wolves have found us again. They aren’t far behind.”
It was hard for Madeline to process his words, because as he spoke he stepped closer to her until his bare chest brushed the tips of her breasts. He lifted one hand to her upturned face. With an outstretched finger, he touched her cheek. She sucked in a gulp of air, but his hand drew back before she could decide to lean into his touch or move away. He had captured a droplet of water. It hung suspended on his finger for several seconds before he gently, shockingly traced the drop of moisture over her lower lip.
When he spoke, his gravelly voice vibrated pleasantly against her. “We do not have to be connected by the sword for me to sense your desire, Madeline Romanov. I have not forgotten the way your eyes reflect heat and your perfect lips part. I will not claim kisses that you have not offered, but know this—your ache is my ache. Your heat is my heat. The ruby might be dormant or even dead, but my desire for you will never die,” Lev said. “Nor your desire for me, I think.”
It wasn’t arrogance. It was perception. Surely, he could feel her heartbeat pound against his hard, hot skin. His eyes darkened as her tongue flicked out to lick the moisture he’d trailed on her lip. But, true to his word, he didn’t lean down to kiss her, even though he must see how badly she wanted to taste him.
“I saw the white wolf’s horrible snarl. He threatened everyone on Krajina. There was no reason in his terrible red eyes. There was only blind rage. You appeared before I could fight the white wolf, but I would have fought him. I would have killed him to protect Queen Vasilisa and Trevor. To protect your brother and his wife,” Madeline said.
“The threat of the white wolf’s savagery looms between us,” Lev said. “And his savagery is mine. But it will be our savagery that saves you and Trevor from the Volkhvy. This, I promise. I also promise you will never have to face the white wolf in battle. I will do whatever I must to prevent it.”
“I have looked into the white wolf’s eyes and he has no master,” Madeline said. She did back away then. She put distance between them before she turned to walk away.
“The white wolf has no master, but he does have a mistress,” Lev replied.
Madeline’s steps faltered, but only for a second before she continued walking away from the scarred man by the brook. He looked like he could wrestle the white wolf to its knees, but she couldn’t be certain enough to trust Trevor’s fate to his hands.
No matter how powerful they seemed.
Chapter 14
Madeline Durnova walked the corridors of Bronwal as a lady-in-waiting to Naomi Romanov. What she was waiting for, she wasn’t quite certain. She and the other noble ladies Naomi had invited to the castle were companions, not guests. They kept Naomi company when she wasn’t on the battlefield. She was a great lady, but she was also the ruby warrior. She wielded an enchanted blade for Queen Vasilisa of the Light Volkhvy.
She was also very sad.
Naomi’s husband, Vladimir, was the great gray-wolf champion of the Light Volkhvy. He was also a terribly frightening man. Madeline wasn’t timid. As the privileged younger daughter in a family full of sons, she’d had an upbringing that included climbing trees and fighting her brothers with wooden swords, as well as learning how to sing and sew. She could leave Bronwal at any time she wished if she became unhappy.
Her problem wasn’t unhappiness. It was impatience. Waiting wasn’t doing. And even though she waited on a great lady and a ferocious warrior, Madeline couldn’t help but feel that her true purpose was missing.
As her time at Bronwal had gone from weeks to months, only one thing kept her from deciding to leave: Lev Romanov.
Naomi’s son was the reason many of the ladies in the castle met each morning with a smile. Unlike his serious oldest brother and his stalwart twin, Lev was wild, full of life and laughter. When he walked into a room, everything and everyone became the setting to his gem. He shone. And Madeline wasn’t immune to his energy and magnetism.
In fact, she seemed more affected than most.
When Lev was around, her thread knotted, her wine spilled, her breath caught and her feet betrayed her interest with clumsiness. He noticed. He was one of the Romanov wolves. His eyes were the eyes of a predator. They cataloged her every move, every sig and every stuttering phrase.
It wasn’t until an early morning walk found her suddenly alone with the youngest Romanov that Madeline realized she wasn’t prey.
“I run in the mornings,” Lev said. Like her, he’d been on the ramparts of Bronwal for exercise. Unlike her, he had exerted himself to the point that he was panting. His broad chest rose and fell as he took deep breaths. He was dressed in nothing but a thin tunic and light leggings, and his damp hair tumbled around his head from perspiration and morning dew. All in all, Madeline’s fingers itched to capture the look of him in the rising sun. Did there exist a golden thread that would match the color of his beard? Or an azure thread that would simulate the color of his eyes?
“I sometimes walk. To take in the air and think. To see the colors of the sunrise and sunset over the mountains,” Madeline said.
“I know. I see you. Often. I’ve tried not to interrupt. This morning I failed to resist,” Lev said.
He looked at her so intensely that Madeline’s cheeks heated, but he kept a respectful distance as he slowed his pace to match hers. Yet it seemed that he didn’t want to keep his distance. She could feel the weight of his gaze on her lips. His entire body appeared to tremble with a warm energy greater than she’d seen in him before. But he controlled his wildness. She’d seen the white wolf at a distance. She’d never seen the monstrous creature up close.
But suddenly, she knew she didn’t want Lev at a distance. He was overwhelming up close, but there was no denying the thrill that pumped through her veins. She liked the overwhelming feeling. The flush. The rush. The sudden irrevocable acknowledgment that she was no longer a lady-in-waiting. She’d found something she hadn’t known she’d been waiting for.
Someone.
“Would you like company sometimes? When you walk? I’d like to walk with you,” Lev said. He stopped to face her, and Madeline stopped, too. She tilted her chin to look up at the man who made her feel small in spite of her great height. She’d never felt small until she came to Bronwal. The Romanov men were giants compared to other men. She couldn’t help assessing his form and figure with her artistic eye. He waited patiently while she looked her fill, surveying him from his booted feet up to his long, wild hair. He was as handsome as a Romanov was expected to be, but there was something else about Lev that made him stand out from the rest.
He’d been waiting, too.
It wasn’t only energy that caused him to dominate a room when he entered it. It was expectation. It was hunger. But not a predator’s hunger. She knew the legend of Vladimir Romanov. Everyone did. The Light Volkhvy queen had taken a lesser son of a royal family and made him into an enchanted shape-shifter to stand as her champion.
Then she had forged a sword for his mate.
Madeline’s breath caught when Lev reached to gently brush an auburn curl from her forehead. The whole castle was in love with the youngest wolf, but ultimately he would have only one destined mate.
“We can walk together,” Madeline agreed.
“And, perhaps, one day we will run. I race over the ground as the white wolf, Maddy. I noticed from the first time I saw you that you longed to run. The longing shines in your brown eyes whenever you look at me. When you’re ready, I’ll carry you as far and as fast as you want to go,” Lev said.
The promise had made her burn with desire for him and for a life she didn’t yet understand. She’d started a new tapestry that day. She’d thought it would be of Lev Romanov dampened by dew in the morning light, but as thread after thread met on the cloth in her hoop, as her fingers grew red from the constant pricks and pre
ssings of needlework, the image that came to life was one of herself.
Wielding the ruby sword.
* * *
By evening, beneath the orange-red glow of the setting sun and the deepening forest shadows, Madeline was spent. Her hold had weakened and her back was stiff with pain. She’d nodded off numerous times, only to be woken from vivid dreams that filled her with longing. When Lev came to a stop, she couldn’t let go. She rested against his back as she tried to will her arms to respond to her mental command. Lev held on to the trunk of a tree with both hands. His head bent down between his arms, and he drew deep gulps of oxygen into his lungs.
Finally, Madeline was able to release Lev’s shoulders and slide to the ground. She would have crumpled, but he sensed her distress. In spite of his depletion, he whirled around and caught her as she fell. Because she couldn’t catch herself. The muscles of her arms were beyond fatigued. Lev held her, and she had to allow it. She was too exhausted to push him away. Her tiredness gave her an excuse to allow his strong arms to cradle her close.
She couldn’t even pretend not to enjoy it. He breathed heavily into her hair, still catching his breath from the forced marathon he’d run. His wild scent of spruce woods and perspiration filled her nose. To her, he smelled heroic. Their heat blended. His brook-washed and wind-tangled hair fell around her face.
“I couldn’t outrun them, Maddy. The Volkhvy have flooded the pack with Ether energy. They are almost upon us,” Lev murmured. He held her away from him then. Just far enough so he could look down into her face. A sudden flood of adrenaline fueled her arms so she was able to lift her hands to his shoulders. She measured their width and breadth with the clasp of her fingers.
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