From Out Of The Shadows

by Linda Mooney

  “I think it would depend on what you mean by â��bewitched’.â�� Deelaht smiled. Then, without explaining herself, the old woman turned around and left the room. Everyone watched her leave.

  Tora’s feeling of warmth and caring continued to crawl up his arm, filling his chest and abdomen. Before long it would suffuse his entire body, and with it Croat knew he could be able to sleep long and peacefully. It was something he was looking forward to.

  “Mengar, Gessat, I need to rest. We can resume this argument tomorrow.”

  Both men agreed and rose to leave. Gessat held out a hand toward Tora. â��I can take you back to your cabin,â�� he offered.

  Mengar gasped. â��You’d touch her?”

  Croat felt Tora’s irritation as she sat up straighter. â��Unless I initiate the touch, no one can sense or receive anything from me. Not unless I will it.â�� She glanced back at Croat, and he felt her plea.

  “Thanks for the offer, but I think Tora can find her way on her own,â�� Croat told them.

  Mengar opened his mouth to protest her staying behind, but he chose not to say anything more for the moment. Giving the couple a nod of his head, the man stomped out of the room.

  “When I find out anything else about the baron’s plans, I’ll let you know,â�� Gessat said, and he, too, exited.

  After a moment, Tora turned around to face him. Croat felt her hand under his jaw, and that blanket of caring wrapped around him as she turned his head to face her. Her eyes searched his as his body relaxed under her Sensitive ministrations.

  “They don’t trust me,â�� she finally whispered, releasing his muzzle to stroke his cheek.

  “Trust has to be earned. You for us. We for you.â�� He closed his eyes to savor the tenderness coming from her fingertips as they lightly glided across his face. When Tora spoke again, her voice was closer yet softer.

  “You’ll be well soon. Well enough to change?”

  “Thanks to Deelaht’s medicants…and you.â�� He opened his eyes to see her face mere inches away. She appeared to be studying his Lupan features with interest.

  As if reading his mind, Tora asked, â��What kind of man are you, Croat?”

  “What kind?”

  “I meant, what do you look like when you’re human? Are you tall or short? Lean or fat?â�� She paused to stare in his eyes. â��You said your eyes may change?”

  “I never really paid much attention to details,â�� he confessed, closing his eyes again. Her hand was working miracles with every slow stroke. Unfortunately, his libido was starting to pay attention to her nearness as well. His Lupan features could smell her warmth and her unique female fragrance. Her womanly musk. Worse, his bestial nature sought the source of her ripeness as her body prepared itself for fertilization. Between his legs he felt himself swelling, but if Tora noticed anything, she didn’t reveal it.

  “You need to rest.â�� Her breath tickled the hairs on his cheek. â��Do you want me to help you get to sleep?”

  “I want…â�� Croat paused and looked at her. By the light of the single candle burning on the bedside table, he could see how deep and dark her eyes were; two reflecting pools, with his image staring back at him. A simple question, like a wish, hung between them, waiting for an answer.

  “Stay with me, Tora. Like you did in the cell.”

  She smiled, sealing her promise as she nodded.

  She helped him to lie down then gently eased herself underneath the bedcovers behind him. With her arm over his chest, Croat felt himself sinking into unconsciousness although his body remained acutely aware of hers tightly pressed against him. The thin nightgown was the only barrier keeping their bodies from true contact.

  The last thing he remembered was the gentle pressure of her lips on the back of his neck before they both succumbed to sleep.

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  Chapter 12

  Grief

  The sun sent blades of light through the thick brush, making it difficult for him to remain hidden from sight. The woods loomed in his field of vision. Branches and limbs swooped down from overhead to brush against his body with the gentleness of a lover’s hand. Leaves caressed his fur as he ran through the forest. Running. Running. Seeking a destination he didn’t know existed. Or, if it did, if it would still be there for him. Or be within his reach.

  The sunlight threw dappled patterns over the rich greenery. He could feel his lungs filling with fresh air like sweet, pure perfume. His heart pounded steadily, regularly, keeping perfect rhythm with each step. His legs seemed to move of their own volition through the brush and grasses, for unlike normal animals, Lupan walked upright.

  Colors swirled past. He was aware of the new spring growth, but he didn’t have the time to stop and appreciate it. What he was seeking, what he was needing, lay just ahead, not too far away, and it was imperative he get there as soon as he could.

  His energy was inexhaustible. His vision had a clarity that stunned him. Even more astounding, he felt an inner strength he had never experienced before.

  He was getting closer. Much closer. Any moment now…

  He burst through the last barrier of prickly ivy, into the wide, almost circular clearing surrounded by enormous oak trees. The thick foliage made it easy to believe he was inside some remote, sacred place.

  She was waiting for him, sitting on the grass with her legs folded underneath her. She was Lupan, but wearing a short dress. He could tell she had not been waiting long; she was still breathing heavily from her own run.

  She cried out and smiled to see him, getting to her feet and holding out her arms in welcome. Bright brown eyes shone with tears as she nuzzled him in the waist. Gods, she seemed to have grown another inch since he’d last seen her.

  As they stood, wrapped in each other’s embrace, they both morphed into their human forms. Her light brown hair turned darker, until it matched her mother’s. Her features were a smattering of both parents, but to him she was almost the epitome of the woman who was waiting for them to arrive home.

  Looking lovingly up at him, she askedâ��

  “Do you honestly think you can keep her safe here?”

  Croat jerked awake, his body stiffening at the sudden shock. Behind him he felt Tora move, aware of his alarm, but not so much that it also drew her out of deep slumber. She was so far beyond exhaustionâ��emotionally, physically, and mentallyâ��he doubted anything could wake her at this point. As long as she felt protected when she was with him, Croat believed her trust in him was absolute.

  Instinctively he had bared his fangs and reached up with his one good hand to defend himself and her, until his brain was able to decipher the fact that it had been his grandmother who had questioned him. Craning his neck, he tried to look over to that part of the room where the old woman was sitting. Unable to do so, he sighed loudly and turned back to stare at the freshly stoked fire.

  “She has touched you in more ways than you understand,â�� Deelaht added.

  “She’s a Sensitive. Of course I’m going to feel differently about her.”

  “Is that what you think?â�� the old woman challenged him. He could hear amusement in her voice.

  “Didn’t you once tell me to avoid Sensitives? That they were dangerous to our kind?”

  “Like you, I grew up listening to those same lies,â�� the old woman confessed. â��This woman has convinced me otherwise, especially now.”

  Croat suppressed the low growl building in his chest. â��Deelaht, I’m in no mood to play mind games with you. Tell me what you need to say then leave so I can rest.”

  “Tell me first what you were dreaming.”

  “What for?”

  “Humor me, Croat.”

  Like hell.

  “I was running through the woods,â�� he told her, and left it at that. Let her try and read something into it. After a few moments, he heard the woman sigh.

  “Why won’t you tell me
all of it? Why won’t you admit you were dreaming of her?”

  “She never entered my dream,â�� Croat said roughly.

  “No. Perhaps she didn’t. At least, not in person.”

  Now, what the hell was that supposed to mean? He opened his mouth to let her know he was in no mood to verbally spar with her, when Deelaht softly said, â��But she was there, nonetheless, in the form of the child you and she will have together.”

  He remained in stunned silence as he watched his grandmother slowly shuffle into view. As long as he could remember, his grandmother always wore long, dark-colored dresses and that same knitted white shawl. Her hair had always been a shade darker than pure white. And her face hadn’t changed in all his twenty-eight years.

  But tonight he could tell she was…different. Maybe it was because of the flickering fire, which provided the only source of light in the small room. Or maybe it was because of the grim line of her lips as she placed her back to the fireplace and faced him. Even in the shadows he noticed how her eyes glittered.

  “Please wake the girl. I need to speak with you both.”

  “Can’t this wait until morning?”

  “Your father is dead,â�� Deelaht announced in a flat, emotionless voice.

  The sudden shock that gripped him was enough to rouse Tora. As words of denial hurried to be spoken, Croat could sense how the woman behind him was trying to comprehend the icy chill spreading throughout him.

  He had wondered why his father hadn’t visited him, but the lack didn’t worry him. The king was away from the village more than he was present. Croat tried to speak, when his grandmother hurried over to the bed and parked herself on the edge. Cool hands touched his face.

  “Worton brought me the news. He was with Rolfgah when one of the baron’s patrol units overtook them. They fought the men and managed to defeat them, but not before your father suffered a bullet to the head.â�� Deelaht took a deep, shuddering breath. â��He never woke up.”

  “Where?â�� It was an effort to say even that much. The cold morphed into raging heat pulsing through his chest, making breathing almost impossible. Behind him, Tora pressed herself even closer, sending him her strength and support.

  “They arrived the day before yesterday,â�� Deelaht whispered. â��We held off having the funeral until your return.”

  “Then he’s here?”

  The old woman nodded. â��At the Sanctuary.”

  “I want to see him.â�� Croat tried to sit up, using his good arm for leverage. He managed to lift himself a short distance before dizziness overtook him. Shaking his head to try and clear it didn’t help.

  “Croat.â�� Deelaht reached out to try and stop him when another hand grabbed her around the wrist. The fingers were thin, the hand cold, but their strength was undeniable.

  “No.”

  It was Tora, fully awake and on the defensive, but not for herself. For him.

  “If he wishes to go, I’ll help him,â�� Tora said. She rolled away from him and left the bed. Walking around to where he could see her, Croat watched the interplay between his grandmother and the young woman.

  “Let him say his goodbyes in private, rather than in public,â�� Tora asked.

  Another moment passed before Deelaht nodded.

  Together they helped Croat to his feet. Tora left the room for a moment while Deelaht helped him with his bodily needs. When she returned, he had a breech skirt tied around his waist.

  “What about me? Is it proper to go about in public in a nightgown?â�� Tora asked.

  “We’re just going to the Sanctuary. You’ll be fine,â�� Deelaht replied.

  Assisting Croat between them, they left the cabin and followed a nearly invisible path around the back of the building. From there a marked roadway of laid stones led off into the woods which surrounded the hidden village. In the near-dawn light, the rocks glittered with dew.

  The trail led to a small copse of tall sycamore trees. Behind them was another structure, slightly larger than a cabin, with rock walls and a pair of large, elaborately carved wooden doors. Deelaht detached herself and went ahead to open the right-hand door, holding it open until Tora and Croat entered.

  All the way to the Sanctuary, Croat refused to think about his grandmother’s announcement. He couldn’t. Beside him, Tora clutched his waist as though she was the one who had suffered the loss. Whenever he glanced at her, she refused to meet his eyes.

  Rolfgah was laid out on the altar, ringed by lit candles. The big man finally looked to be at peace, with arms by his sides and the ceremonial cloth draped over his chest and lower body. Croat paused inside the threshold and took in the serene, almost surreal scene.

  Closing the door, Deelaht moved to the far side of the room until she disappeared into the shadows. Croat took a step forward, then two. He disengaged himself from Tora’s arms and limped the remaining few feet to where his father lay.

  A white patch covered the right side of Rolfgah’s head, which faced away from immediate view. The bandage was evidence where the bullet had struck the Lupan leader. Laying his hand on top of the ceremonial cloth, Croat opened himself up to whatever emotions were gathering inside him.

  This was his time to mourn. His time to express his deepest grief before the official burial took place in front of the rest of the villagers. Yet, for some reason, Croat could not find his sadness.

  Maybe it was because he had been waiting for this day to happen for the past few years. Anticipating it. Dreading it. Unable to deny it was inevitable. A Lupan warrior’s lifespan was never long.

  Maybe it was because Tora was in the Sanctuary with him that he finally felt…ready. Ready to take on the enormous responsibility of guiding his people for the next few decades. Ready to face the challenges and threats which had plagued Lupan since the beginning of time. Ready to shoulder the stress and fears he knew he must bear almost alone for the rest of his own life.

  Almost alone.

  Croat started, his eyes snapping open as his whole body went on alert. Slowly, Tora came up behind him, to stop beside him at the altar.

  “Do you resemble him?”

  Her voice sounded like it was far away. Either that or his ears were stopped up.

  “Not much. I’ve been told I look more like my mother.”

  A thin hand inched over until it touched his arm. Her sorrow for him lay just beneath the surface, held in check for his benefit.

  “What happened to your mother?”

  “She was stung by a bee when I was an infant. Most Lupan have severe allergic reactions to the bug’s sting.â�� A shiver raced through him as Croat remembered his father explaining the story to him when he was young. â��Her face and throat swelled up, and she suffocated. I don’t…I don’t recall her face.”

  “What about a drawing of her? A portrait?”

  Croat slowly shook his head. â��Too dangerous. If the village was ever discovered, and people found out we were Lupan, they would use the portraits to hunt us down in our human guises.”

  “Your father never remarried?”

  Croat turned to look at her. In the room’s soft, golden glow, she appeared almost ethereal. Her skin was translucent. The dark circles under her wide eyes were gone. Her hair gleamed softly to where he could almost feel it flowing over his palms like burnished water. However, he could not sense anything coming from her, nor did he believe she was holding either of them back emotionally. Although her hand was warm, all he could feel was its weight.

  “Lupan love but once in a lifetime,â�� he whispered.

  Tora seemed surprised by his announcement, slowly nodding her head to show she understood. â��Would you like to be alone?”

  Looking back at the remains of the man he had cared so much for, Croat realized at that moment that the Lupan king had been more of a stranger than a father. Rolfgah had been forced by circumstance and duty to care for his people. And that had meant leaving Croat behind to be raised by Ellem
ar’s mother while he ventured out with his army of Lupan to protect and defend their kind.

  Croat knew that for a long time he had adored his father more as an icon than as his parent. His happiest memories were when Rolfgah took him out into the woods to personally train him. To prepare him for the time when Croat would take over as the Lupan king. Unfortunately, those memories were few, and those moments had been too brief to forge any strong bonds between father and son.

  Studying his father’s visage, at the gray-streaked hair and the craggy features, Croat wondered just how much of his father was within him. Did he have what it would take to keep his people safe? Could he lead the Lupan through several more decades of existence, until the next leader could be designated?

  Next leader?

  Who was left to lead if he died? Croat knew he had yet to find his mate. He had yet to produce a son and heir. But there hadn’t been any woman he’d met who had piqued his interest, much less consistently raised his libido. No woman…until…

  Fingers tightened around his wrist. Doubt was replaced with hope and self-assurance. Faith and belief.

  Looking at Tora, he noticed how her gaze never wavered from his. Silently she scolded him, and then gave him the strength of conviction he was seeking. It was almost as if she was promising him she would be there by his side if he ever needed her. That she would always be there.

  Unconsciously he saw how the thin nightgown clung to her breasts. In the slightly chilly atmosphere inside the Sanctuary, her nipples were unmistakable and pale in color. Croat felt the stirrings of another erection.

  She would always be there.

  As if he could bear to let her go after tonight.

  Oh, gods, what is she doing to me?

  Hastily, Croat turned away to look back at his father. But when tears finally filled his eyes, they weren’t there because of his father’s death. They came because Croat knew he could, at last, express his fears and doubt to the one person who would never need an explanation or excuse for his behavior, or who would never belittle him for his weakness.