“I’ll find the kitchen. Maybe there’ll be some pots that haven’t been looted,” Madeline said.
Lev was already walking away in search of the ax. The idea of cutting down one of the rowan trees didn’t seem like a desecration. It seemed as if the trees had waited for them to return to this place that had been so special to them before. Now one of the trees would provide a few branches to keep them warm for the night as they tried to prepare for the battle ahead.
But instead of battles and tending Lev’s injuries, it was memories of making love with Lev that filled Madeline’s mind as she went back inside to search Straluci for supplies. Was it a coincidence that the longer she spent with Lev Romanov, the more she remembered about her former life?
Chapter 19
She found the half-collapsed kitchen and was able to dig an iron kettle from the rubble. Its handle had rusted through on one side, but it seemed intact enough to hold water—but even better, she found a larger copper tub that had been used for bathing. It had been battered and dented by a fallen ceiling beam, but the beam had long since rotted so that Madeline could shift the tub free of the stone and bug-eaten splinters that remained.
Cleaning the fountain had left her and Lev sweaty and coated with grime. She ignored the flutter in her stomach that tried to coil into desire when she imagined getting clean...or helping Lev get clean. The tub would be too small for him, but that, too, sparked visions of the large man overfilling the copper bath. She pushed away visions of washing his muscular chest. It was pure practicality. Or if not pure, it was at least pragmatic to wash his injuries before she tended them.
Of course, she had no medicine or bandages, so cleaning his wounds might be the only treatment she could offer.
The tub wasn’t nearly as heavy as the iron kettle. She placed the kettle in the copper tub and hauled them both back toward the only other source of noise in the castle. She could hear the distant sound of wood being placed for a fire. The sound echoed with surprising loudness in the empty hallways and passages she traversed.
Lev had chosen one of the smaller rooms to build and start his fire. It was a smart choice. The front hall was too expansive, and even with its larger fireplace, the heat would have dispersed too quickly in the vaulted ceiling and the missing portions of the roof. He’d chosen a room sheltered by a stone wall that had collapsed on one side. The collapse had created a three-sided nook near the fireplace.
There was a spot by the fireplace for the copper tub she carried. She placed it there without comment, but she felt Lev’s eyes follow her movements. Was he, like her, imagining things he shouldn’t? The rebellious flutter was another reaction to the sensual imagery that arose in her mind.
“We’ll have to carry water from the courtyard,” Lev said.
Madeline lifted the iron kettle from the tub with a bold flourish, even though she was feeling shyer by the moment. Needing to wash Lev’s injuries was reason enough to haul water from the fountain. This wasn’t seduction. It was necessity.
But Lev’s fire-lit eyes seemed to see all the way to her quaking middle.
He rose from the fire he’d been stoking. It had combusted into a small furnace of heat and light that illuminated the nook with a reddish orange glow. Her sword was dead. The ruby didn’t shine. But the quality of the light reminded her of the connection that was possible between her and Lev, and how hard it was to deny.
She held the kettle toward him, but he ignored it as he approached. His attention was riveted on her face. Could he see the flush on her cheeks? Did he recall the perfect rhythm they’d found together in this place long ago?
“You’ve remembered more. It’s slowly coming back to you,” Lev said.
“My memories don’t matter,” Madeline said. His chest bumped into the iron kettle. The one-sided handle rattled in her hand. Only then did he reach up to take it from her, but only to move it out of the way so he could step closer still.
He held the kettle down to his left side, then raised his right hand to brush her frazzled hair out of her face. She tilted her chin to meet his eyes. There was no reason to pretend his touch didn’t affect her. It did. What she needed him to know was that the effect he had on her wouldn’t sway her intentions.
She would save Trevor. She would walk away.
“I know,” Lev said. “And I agree. I know what my years as the white wolf have made of me and why we’ll never be together as a family again. Above all else, I intend to protect you and Trevor from what I’ve become.”
Hearing her own fears spoken aloud made her uncomfortable. As if they were less logical when they came from Lev’s lips. Of course, she had reason to fear the white wolf. He had been a complete savage for centuries. He had been poised to attack on Krajina until she stood against him. She couldn’t risk Trevor’s safety to the whims of a wild animal.
And yet she couldn’t forget Lev’s arms around her and the way he’d carried her to safety, even putting his own health at risk. He’d pushed himself to get ahead of the pack. He’d ignored his injuries to get her to Straluci. He’d ignored them further as he helped her prepare the portal.
“I’m not afraid,” Madeline said.
“You’re brave. You don’t bow to fear. You refuse to let fear stop you,” Lev corrected. “But that doesn’t mean you aren’t afraid.”
“I’m not afraid for myself,” Madeline conceded. “I would face the white wolf. Anytime. I’ve seen him in you. He shines from your eyes. And for myself, I’m not afraid. But Trevor has been through enough. When he wakes up, he needs a chance to laugh and play.”
Lev’s hand was gentle as he placed his warm, calloused palm against her cheek. Madeline didn’t pull away. She didn’t lean into his touch, but she didn’t pull away.
“I’ll give him that chance. I promise,” Lev said.
Before she could second-guess the move, Madeline turned and placed a light kiss on Lev’s hand. He drew in a great gulp of air in surprise, but then he held himself very still, as if he was afraid any reaction would drive her away.
“I believe you,” Madeline whispered, then backed away.
* * *
Lev concentrated on the chore of filling the copper tub. It was a mindless exercise of repetitious motions, much like running. He wasn’t free to shift and run away, so he filled the tub that Madeline had found. His wounds pained him. His long-sleeved T-shirt had fused to several of the bites as the blood dried. His every move caused the shirt to threaten to pull away from those injuries and make them bleed again. But worse still was the murmur of Ether in his veins. It sounded like the nightmare times he’d been lost to the Ether as part of the curse. In that black vacuum, the nothingness wasn’t silent. It was sibilant with the constant hiss of voices even his wolf ears couldn’t distinguish.
Not everyone had returned from the Ether during the continuous cycle of materializations. Many disappeared over the years. Between one Cycle and the next, they would simply be gone. Some never returned, even once Vasilisa’s curse had been lifted. His father, Vladimir, had been one of the first to disappear. He and some others had never reappeared, even after the curse had been broken. When he returned to Bronwal as a man, he’d found the people rebuilding, but there were far fewer than there had been before.
Now it was as if his very blood echoed with the cries of those who had been lost to the nothingness. The murmur was a reminder of the nightmare he’d endured.
Lev could remember one of his last rational thoughts before he’d given himself fully to the white wolf. He’d wondered if Madeline’s voice and Trevor’s cries were a part of the Ether’s murmur. He had tried so hard to find them, only to discover that Vasilisa had had them all along.
Finally, the tub was nearly filled.
He heated the last few pots over the fire in order to make the bathwater hot. Stream rose from the copper tub as a result. He had to admit it was a welcoming sight after so many frigid rinses in mountain streams.
Madeline returned, and her arms were full of i
tems she had salvaged while he was busy filling the tub.
“Nothing is left from our time, but I found several things that must have been abandoned by curious visitors through the years,” she said. She held up a dried and cracked sliver of soap and a rag that looked like it had once been a white T-shirt.
And then she opened her other hand to reveal a straight razor.
“I polished the blade on a stone,” she explained.
“I filled the tub for you,” Lev protested. He raised his damp hand to his face and tugged on his beard. He had barely trimmed it since he reassumed his human form.
“We’ll take turns,” Madeline replied. “But you’ll go first.”
She’d already washed her face and her hands while he was busy. Now she turned to place the T-shirt in the last pot of water that bubbled on the fire. The boiling water would disinfect the old material so she could use it as a washcloth without depositing more germs than she cleansed away.
“This will end badly,” Lev warned.
Madeline faced him. He stood in the firelight with his arms akimbo, as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands now that his chore was finished.
“Yes. We’ve already agreed to that. Tonight is a reprieve from unhappy endings. You took care of me when you saved me from the wolves. Now it’s my turn to take care of you,” Madeline said. “Your injuries aren’t healing the way they should. Let me help you, Lev.”
He nodded. Just a simple up-and-down motion of his chin, but his agreement opened the door to possibilities that set the flutter in her stomach to somersaults.
Madeline dipped the sharpened straight razor’s blade into the boiling water for a few minutes. Then she used a stick that Lev had brought inside for the purpose of lifting the pot by its broken handle away from the flames. She set the pot on the hearth so the water and the T-shirt in it could cool.
While she was busy with those preparations, Lev had bent over to take off his boots. First one and then the other. Madeline heard every rustle and every sigh. She could almost feel his relief as his tired feet hit the cool stone floor.
“Do you need help with your clothes?” Madeline asked. She was trying to force nurse feelings to the fore, almost impossible when her “patient” had driven her wild with his lips and tongue the night before. Definitely impossible when she remembered what it was like to feel him thrusting deep inside her while her body pulsed around him with its release.
“I couldn’t answer that honestly if I tried,” Lev said. “And I don’t want to try. I want you to strip me. Forget these injuries. I can only think about being naked with you.”
When she turned to face him, she caught sight of her sketchbook. She’d dumped it out of her backpack because they’d needed to utilize the canvas to polish the brass in the bottom of the fountain.
Lev had brought it inside. On top of its cover were several charcoal stubs.
She looked from her salvaged possessions to the man in front of the steaming tub. His courtesy warmed her, and the warmth joined the flutter in her middle. He knew the sketchbook was precious to her, and even though it portrayed him as a savage beast, he’d saved it for her.
The sketches weren’t a lie. She’d seen his savagery for herself. Both as the white wolf and as the man. He’d fought the Ether-tainted wolves with his bare hands.
For her. For Trevor, the warmth inspired by his courtesy said.
Also not a lie. But it would be dangerous to place too much confidence in his ability to control the wild wolf that had managed to take over for hundreds of years. She couldn’t trust him, but for now, they were alone and he was hurting. She could help him. She could also admit her feelings weren’t merely altruistic. She was no nurse. The heat from his consideration met with the heat that already rose in her whenever he was around.
She stepped toward him and raised her hands to the torn hem of his shirt. His eyes widened, but he didn’t flinch away. He held still as she raised the shirt from his waistband, and he stared intently at her face. Was he trying to gauge her intentions? If so, she wondered if her expression showed concern mixed with mounting desire as she pulled the ruined shirt up to reveal his rippled abdomen and muscular chest.
He didn’t look away when it was time for him to lift his arms to help her remove the shirt. He stared down at her, and only the shirt passing over his head interrupted their locked gazes. The color in his cheeks above his beard was high. She could feel the heat of a flush rising in her cheeks as well.
The shirt pulled away from several of his wounds, but he didn’t cry out. Madeline flinched for him, and her attention fell from his eyes to his torn skin. The blood that seeped from the wolf bites was tinged with black. Her instinct was to try to wash it away, but the miracle of his epic run following the attack struck her all over again. Even burdened with her weight and his injuries, he had practically flown across the earth.
Madeline dropped his shirt to the side, and without thinking of the consequences, she allowed her fingers to trace the uninjured skin she had exposed. He sucked in air and held it as her touch feathered over his neck and shoulders and down the hard plane of his chest, where she paused over the steady, powerful thump of his heart before continuing down the impossibly toned muscles of his abdomen. Her memories were of a different, softer man. Still fierce. Still strong. But not honed by centuries as a mad wolf.
By the time she reached the laced waistband of his leather leggings, the heartbeat in her chest was pounding in the same rhythm as his heartbeat. The beat seemed to make her fingers vibrate and echo throughout her body, even though she was no longer pressing her hand above his heart.
She had rejected the sword’s connection. They were no longer bound together by Vasilisa’s enchantment. But their bodies seemed to fight the severing force of her will and his acceptance of her decision.
Her heartbeat synced with his. Her breathing adjusted to the rise and fall of his chest. And the bulge and heat of the erection that showed beneath the leather, as she gently worked the leather cords of his lacings free, echoed the heat throbbing between her own legs.
“Madeline,” Lev said hoarsely. She’d heard the howl that had caused the rough quality of his voice, but that didn’t stop his growling tones from tightening her stomach until the flutter she hadn’t been able to ignore was caught and held in a fist of increasing need.
Reclaiming her memories of how they’d been together wasn’t enough. She needed this Lev. Here and now. She needed more than what they’d shared in the wildflowers last night. She needed to physically join with him, even though no greater connection could be allowed. Come what may tomorrow.
He had been infinitely patient with her undressing. His stillness was heady in and of itself. Such a powerful, hard man waiting on her pace and allowing her to lead the way. But he sighed when she finally parted his lacings to allow his erection to spring free into her eager hands. The velvety skin of Lev’s penis burned her fingers as she teased her touch around his shaft. Then he groaned and grew tense once more when her fist finally, boldly closed around the hot, curved length of him.
She had held him like this before. He had thrust into her hand and cried out her name.
His leggings slid midway down his thighs as his legs trembled in reaction to her strokes. Her body also reacted, but the trembles deep inside her intimate folds were hidden. She suddenly wanted him to know. She wanted Lev to feel her reaction to his erection.
“Step into the tub and let me wash you,” Madeline ordered. She reluctantly released him, and he moved back from her touch long enough to push his leggings off his powerful legs. He kicked them aside and stepped into the steaming water of the bath.
Nude, Lev Romanov was a striking sight. She paused in the process of taking the boiled T-shirt from the cooling kettle. The water trickled back into the pot as she forgot the cloth she’d been wringing out. She could only stare. He was fully erect. The tight fist in her stomach released as her insides turned to molten liquid. She wanted nothing more in that m
oment than to rip off her clothes and beg him to join with her.
But his injuries still needed cleaning.
Madeline shook herself and flicked out the warm, wet cloth. She carried it over to the tub, trying not to focus on the evidence that he was as heated by desire as she. Lev watched her approach. He didn’t reach for her. But he did fist his hands at his sides, as if not reaching required effort.
She dipped the sliver of dried soap into the water that lapped around his lower legs, but to do so meant she had to lean over. She appreciated the view as she rose. Every inch of his muscular legs. Every inch of...other things.
Madeline looked up at Lev as she worked the soap into the cloth in her hands. He had closed his eyes. The pace of his breathing had increased. So had hers, and now they matched. The color in his cheeks was high. She watched his face as she began gently lathering his neck and shoulders. His eyelids flew open and their gazes connected with an electric snap that made her gasp.
“You pleasure me and torture me all at the same time,” Lev growled.
“I want you. And I want to take care of you. Just for tonight, let me savor this time,” Madeline said. As she spoke, her soapy hands slid over his hard skin. She covered him with lather, inch by inch, appreciating his lean form, soothing his pain and increasing his need until his entire body trembled beneath her hands. She dropped the cloth into the water and took extra time with only her soapy fingers on his erect shaft. He moaned and groaned and sighed her name as she pleasured him in the guise of washing him until suddenly his hands came up and he held her shoulders. She met his eyes and paused. Her hands fell away from a steely cock that had been seconds away from orgasm.
“Rinse. Now,” Lev ordered. And Madeline didn’t argue. She went to the hearth and picked up the kettle. She filled it with water and then poured, washing away the lather. Lev watched her work with glittering eyes that were no longer as patient as they’d been before. The difference caused a thrill to take over where the flutter had been. Her nipples peaked, and goose bumps rose as she waited for him to act again, order her to do something.
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