He was waiting for her, very near to where she’d left him, when she came around the turn in the path. Unheeded, a smile broke across his face.
She tossed her head and glared at him. “Don’t you dare grin at me!”
He forced the smile to leave.
“The only reason I’m here is because I can’t find my way off this cursed mountain on my own, and I’m not quite ready to die for a principle.”
She looked very different, after a few days on her own. The fear and the anger showed on her, in many ways. Her hair was loose and wild; her dress was torn; her face was smudged with dirt. Her cheeks had taken on a new, pink flush, and her eyes sparkled. She was filled with life. He liked it. This was how she’d looked in his dream last night, as wild a creature as he himself could be, a woman touched with anger and passion and wonder.
This woman was his wife.
“You are here because you are meant to be here,” he said calmly. “With me.”
She walked directly toward him, strides long and determined. Without so much as slowing her step, she all but ran into him and slapped him soundly on the chest. “If you say another word about us being married or if you call me your wife, or if you utter one more word about how we were meant to be together, I swear, I will walk down this mountain even if it takes me all my life to get to the bottom of it.”
He lowered his voice because she was so close. There was no need to shout as she did. “You do not know what to do with the fire that burns inside you, that’s why you feel such rage.”
She hit him again; he barely felt it. “I do not feel rage. I never feel rage! I don’t lose my temper, and I don’t get angry because it never serves any constructive purpose. It is an entirely worthless emotion.” Juliet hit him three times while she told him how she never lost her temper.
Suddenly she stopped, and the anger in her eyes turned to wonder. “Your wounds,” she whispered. The palm that had struck him rested over his chest, where a few days ago a nasty gash had opened his flesh. “They’re gone.”
“I am healed,” he said simply.
“But...how?”
“Anwyn heal quickly.”
“Apparently so,” she whispered as she dropped her hand. She turned accusing eyes up to him. “You could have come after me days ago.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I knew you would come back to me.” He didn’t say more, since his assurances would only enrage her.
“I’m only here because I can’t make my way down the mountain alone. It’s that simple.”
“It is not that simple.”
She glanced toward the fire, avoiding his gaze.
“You have come back because you know you belong here, and because there is nothing to be done for your sisters. You have come back because the dream plagues and taunts you.”
Her cheeks blushed bright pink, and her lips hardened a little. “Do not speak to me of dreams.”
“You need not make excuses for me, Juliet. I do not see things as you do, but we share a link you cannot deny. There are times when I see your heart and mind clearly.
I can sever the link when I wish, but I cannot destroy it.”
“Sever it now,” she commanded.
He gladly did as she asked. In time, their bond would be complete and unbreakable, but for now he was no more comfortable with an undiminished link than she was. Not only did he feel disturbed by allowing this woman he barely knew to share his innermost thoughts, but he no longer wished to taste her anger.
He took comfort in knowing that the anger would not last. By the time they reached The City, she would be happy. Juliet would declare herself to be his mate long before they took their vows before the Queen.
They traveled as they had before. Ryn leading the way, Juliet struggling to keep up with him. Over the days the journey had become less of a struggle. Her legs adapted to the hiking; her feet became more sure on the rocks. It helped that at least some of the journey took them over tree-covered hills that were not too steep for her to traverse without getting winded.
Ryn did not call her “wife,” and he certainly didn’t taste her again. If not for the dreams that persisted, she might consider this journey almost pleasant. On some nights the claws appeared to turn the dream into a nightmare, but on other nights it did not end in such a violent way.
On some nights, the dream ended when her mouth was almost touching Ryn’s throat, and his hands were on her body, and he lifted her skirt and touched her where no man had ever touched her before...where she had sworn no man would ever touch her...
The mountains were undeniably beautiful, crisp and cool and pristine. She felt as if no other woman had ever walked upon this land or seen these fabulous skies. The sky was the blue of her dream, bright and clear, a crisp shade of blue she had never before seen.
The dream was affecting her more than she cared to allow. Just this morning she had awakened to find herself much too close to Ryn. She had fallen against him in the night and found comfort in his warmth. She had opened her eyes and found herself presented with a sight very much like the one in her dreams, and for a moment...for one insane moment...her mind had taken a definite turn.
He was lovely, she admitted, in a completely untamed and masculine way. Sometimes when he turned his face to her or moved just so, her stomach flipped in an entirely unexpected and not altogether unpleasant way. As they walked down a narrow path past dead trees and sharp rock and the occasional green shrub, she tried to imagine what he’d look like if she cut his hair or pulled it back and restrained it, and bought him ordinary clothes. He would still be handsome. He would also still be wild. Oddly enough, she preferred him this way. The wildness suited him. It was who he was.
She wasn’t so sure who she was anymore. There had been a time when there had been no question as to her identity or her plans for the future. But now...she just didn’t know.
They reached a steep rise, and Ryn turned to wait for her. He offered his hand; she took it. It was a strong hand, steady and sure, and she had no doubts about holding on as he helped her to the top of the hill. The shimmer that went through her was as unexpected as the occasional trick of her stomach.
No, not entirely unexpected, she decided as he released her. Her physical response to him plagued her more and more. He looked at her or touched her and she was affected. She found her mind wandering to fantasies best left unexplored. It was the dream, she reasoned, that forced her mind into this new and disturbing direction. Reality would probably not be so pleasant.
She looked him squarely in the eye while she took a deep, revitalizing breath. “I can never love any man,” she said quickly, the words pouring out of her too quickly.
“I did not ask for love,” he responded without anger or disappointment.
It was true that she had not felt love from Ryn, and he had certainly never spoken of love. But he continued to insist that she was the one for him, the only one who would do. Was that not love?
“We will have friendship and companionship and lust, when you stop resisting me,” he said. “It is the way of the Anwyn.”
“The Anwyn don’t believe in love?”
“It exists for some,” Ryn said. “It is not necessary.”
She had always believed love was necessary for a proper marriage, which is one of the reasons she had known she could never marry.
They resumed their journey after that short rest. There was no sign of another living creature along the way, but for the small critters Ryn caught and killed for their supper when they tired of eating roots. The animals he hunted were primarily tilsis, the moderately sized rabbit-like animals that were timid and tasty and quick. Not quick enough to escape Ryn, but still...they moved fast.
She did not ask how far they had to travel before they reached his home, and Ryn offered no detailed information about their journey.
Ryn did not chat needlessly. He was a quiet man, sure of himself and perfectly capable of speaking wel
l if he had something to say. He just usually didn’t have much to say. If she was going to be so annoyingly attracted to the man, the least she could do was to get to know him better.
Not that he cared about getting better acquainted. He hadn’t even asked her why she couldn’t love.
“Does every Anwyn travel so far to fetch his alleged wife?”
“Yes.” Ryn moved steadily onward. “When the time comes, we are called, and the quest for the destined mate begins.”
“And what happens if you don’t find your mate?”
“We don’t return to The City until the quest is done, no matter how far the journey takes us.”
It wasn’t that she needed to know any specifics about their destination, since she didn’t plan to stay, but she was a little curious. And Ryn wasn’t being at all helpful. He answered her questions, but he did not elaborate.
“Has any woman ever asked to be taken home before?”
“No.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” she said beneath her breath. Did all the Anwyn look like Ryn? Were they all so quiet and strong and stubborn? She knew many women who wouldn’t mind at all being kidnapped by such a man.
The trees they marched past were completely bare, without a single red or yellow or blue leaf to color the landscape. It turned colder here much sooner than in the Southern Province, and they had left behind the evergreen trees they’d once camped beneath. She smelled snow again, even though the skies remained blue and clear. Oddly enough, she had become acclimated to the cold more easily than she’d imagined she would. The icy air no longer cut to the bone through her clothing, but instead lay upon her exposed skin in a perfectly natural way.
“I guess you don’t see many of the emperor’s soldiers up this way,” she said, actually hungry for more talk after the days of walking and sleeping and eating and carrying on only the simplest of conversations.
Ryn glanced over his shoulder and lifted his eyebrows slightly. “No soldiers here. We crossed the border of Columbyana and entered the land of the Anwyn two days ago.”
They stopped to rest on her account, but Ryn did not complain that she was slowing him down, and he did not offer to carry her. He would if she asked, she knew that, but they had moved beyond that stage. In a way she had not expected, she was no longer a captive. She’d finally accepted that this was where she was supposed to be, for now. The acceptance was unexpected and even unwanted, but it was also right, in a soul-deep way. This journey had become an adventure, an adventure she had never expected to have. She felt connected to the mountain just as she felt connected to Ryn.
But it was an adventure, not a change in her life’s plan. This brief time in her life was a detour, an escapade she would talk about when she was old and gray.
Well, she would talk about some of it. No one could ever know about the dreams, or the strange desire she had to lay her mouth on Ryn’s neck.
“Is your city as beautiful as this?” she asked. From this vantage point she could look over a vast and splendid area of untouched land, mountains and forests, hills and valleys. It seemed she stood at the top of the world, though to the north the mountains grew even higher.
“The City is beautiful in a different way.”
“Do all Anwyn live in The City?”
“No. Some choose to live in the mountains, or on farms beyond The City walls.”
She turned to look squarely at Ryn. “But you live in The City?”
He nodded. Even that small gesture was made with strength and a touch of wildness. Her eyes were drawn to his neck, massive and corded and attached to fine broad shoulders, and immediately she averted her eyes.
“I leave The City to hunt, and to run when the wolf calls,” he said.
There were times when she almost forgot that he was a shape-shifter, that the spirit of a beast lived in his heart. That wildness was such an integral part of him, he was never entirely without the wolf.
“I will not hurt you,” he said softly.
“I know you won’t,” she said, trying to sound stern and detached.
“You should not be afraid because you want me. It is natural and right, and when the times comes, it will be a good thing.”
Juliet forced a laugh. “I do not want you, Ryn. For goodness’ sake, I—”
“I do not have your gift,” he interrupted. “I can keep you out, and I cannot touch your mind unless you invite me in.”
Thank the heavens! She certainly didn’t want him to know the direction her thoughts had taken in the days since she’d returned to him. “I will not invite you into my mind, of that you can be assured.”
“What of your body?”
She shivered. He was so plainspoken at times! There was no artifice in his words, no polished attempts at seduction. “We are not married, I am not your wife. I can’t—”
“You can,” he said, assurance in his voice. He took a step toward her. “You called me an animal once, and I reminded you that you, too, are an animal.”
“I am not an animal,” Juliet insisted primly.
Ryn’s head cocked to one side. “We are all animals, wife. I smell the desire you deny on your flesh, in your very breath. You call to me the way any animal calls to its mate.”
“I am not calling to you.”
“Let me touch my mind to yours and prove it, wife.”
“No.” Ryn could not know what directions her thoughts had been taking of late. He could not know that he was right. “I will travel to your city. Perhaps I will even stay there for a few weeks or months. But it is not home, and you are not mine.”
“I knew you would be stubborn,” he said, not at all bothered by her arguments.
“I am not stubborn.” That argument caused Ryn to smile, and Juliet’s heart fluttered strangely.
“I will not touch you as a husband touches his wife until you come to me,” he said as he approached. “I will wait.”
“You’re in for a long wait,” she said, not as sharply as she’d intended. He was too close, too unrestrained...too big. But as in the dream, she did not feel overpowered. Ryn would never use his strength against her, she knew that to the depths of her soul.
“I don’t think so,” he whispered as he stopped before her, touched her cheek with one long finger, and looked into her eyes. He tipped her head back and laid his lips against her throat. He did not lick and suck and tease, as he had before. His mouth simply rested there. A large tanned hand rose up to brush against her breast, but instead of caressing her there, he pressed his hand beneath, as if to feel her heartbeat.
She could push him away—she should push him away. But instead she closed her eyes and drank him in, not with her mind but with her body. Her insides began to pulse; her heart rate quickened. She reached out to touch him, but before she could do that, she let her hands fall away. The fingers flexed and clenched. She wanted to touch him. She wanted to feel the heat of his flesh against her hands.
Ryn let his hand fall, long brown fingers brushing against her frock as it dropped. He took his mouth from her throat, and she came to her senses and took a step back.
“You always kiss my throat,” she said, her voice just short of shaking. Why didn’t he lay his lips on hers, or kiss her cheek? Even in her dreams, it was the throat that tempted her.
“The offering of the throat is the ultimate sign of trust.” Ryn reached out and brushed one long finger down the column of her neck. “Here you are most vulnerable. One bite, and your life’s blood drains from the body. And yet the right touch in that vulnerable place is undeniably sexual. It is life and death. Commitment and pleasure.”
“That sounds very primitive.” The finger at her throat stirred all kinds of sensations inside her, and she couldn’t make them cease. She didn’t want them to cease.
“Don’t deny the animal, wife,” Ryn said as he turned away and started down the path once again. “It is a good thing.”
Juliet would’ve argued with him, but as she followed with quick steps, sh
e couldn’t find her breath.
Something in Juliet had changed, and she did not know it yet. Ryn saw as much as felt the transformation in her. This change was on her face and in her body, as well as in the spirit she tried to hide from him. He tried to explain away what he saw with his own eyes, but this could not be explained away.
They sat by the fire in silence, supper done. This afternoon’s conversation remained between them, awkward and unfinished.
It was past time for Juliet to come to him in the way a wife should, and yet she remained distant and frightened. He had realized days ago that she was afraid not of him, but of herself. She was frightened of the passion that coursed through her.
He leaned in close to study her eyes by the light of the fire. When they’d stopped on the trail this afternoon and he’d touched her, he had been almost certain he saw something different, something unexpected. Flecks of gold had begun to appear amidst the warm brown of her eyes. Those flecks had not been there when he’d first taken her, of that he was certain. Neither had the flush of her skin been evident. She had been paler when he’d taken her, and now her skin was healthy and pink. If he laid his hand to her chest again, would he feel that her heart beat faster? Had it only raced earlier today because she fought what she wanted? He wondered if she had begun hearing sounds from a distance she had not known possible before she came here, or if she saw farther into the darkness than she had on that first night.
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