Bewildered by Love (Kendawyn Paranormal Regency)

by Amanda A. Allen

  “I’m sorry that I wasn’t sure of you when you deserved it.”

  He let his lips rest against her forehead in relief as he realized she was not asking him to leave her alone but letting him into her life. Perhaps even her heart.

  She whispered into his chest, “I’m sorry that I’ve been distancing myself and fighting this force between us and you. I’m sorry that I’ve loved you all this time and I’ve been lying to myself and you about it.”

  When she said love, relief flowed over him like a tsunami. He wanted to grab her and swing her about, but this was the St. Claire masquerade and that was denied to them. Emotions must be controlled.

  She stepped away, glancing around and then her gaze alit on a stone bench. She tugged him down to sit by her on a bench hidden in shadows, and George could hardly believe that this was happening. The relief was almost overwhelming.

  “You don’t have to apologize.” He lifted her hand slowly to his lips, pressing her fingers to his mouth. “You can have whatever time you need.”

  “And that is why I love you. George…”

  “Finally,” he said. He couldn’t help but press his finger under her chin and slowly turn her face up to his. She said nothing, but she did lean towards him when he leaned towards her, and for the first time, he dared to press his lips against hers. Her skin was, of course, like silk. But he’d been able to see that for a few months now. The need to press closer pushed in on him, but they were at a party and too easily discovered.

  She laughed, and the sound of it was music. She was all he had ever wanted, and she was before him, finally accepting his love and himself.

  “I love you, Phoebe Varling,” he said, wanting to tangle his fingers in her red hair or lift her delicate little body onto his lap. Instead, he stood, for society declared that their stolen kiss was unacceptable.

  She followed him up, taking his chin and turning it to her. “I love you, too.”

  He kissed her again, ravenously. And then stepped back, saying, “We must go back now, or I…”

  He stopped himself from acting further on his needs and led her towards the house with joy as powerful as the strongest of tides.

  “Wait,” she said, looking at him. He was so much larger than she that she had to look up and then up.

  “Phoebe, we must return. We have to behave.”

  “Yes, I realize,” she said, tugging him to a stop. “But I am not done telling you what I need to say.”

  “Well, isn’t this cozy,” Pallister said as George tugged her forward again. “Mr. Bentworth, that female belongs to me.”

  George’s eyes flared an instant yellow and a growled voice ordered her. “Phoebe go inside.”

  She shook her head.

  “It is time for him to stop bothering you,” George said, shoving her behind him.

  “I am not helpless, George Bentworth, and you’re going to get yourself blacklisted from these events if you lose control of yourself. Even I know that shapeshifting on St. Claire land is unforgivable.”

  She placed her hand on his chest and shoved him towards the ballroom. As she did, she saw the woman who George had pointed out as his cousin Hugh’s intended. She was rushing as if chased by hounds. Concern flared for the female, but Phoebe couldn’t give the female another thought.

  Mr. Pallister grabbed Phoebe’s arm, stopping her from pushing George inside. Pallister’s fingers dug into her arm, and her breath hiccuped at the pain of it. She struggled to free herself and keep George at bay. But then, Pallister pulled a small glass vial from his pocket. He uncorked it while she and George watched. Their eyes were fixated on the glass, knowing it could be anything.

  Anything at all in this world of magic.

  And Pallister threw the vial at them.

  She flinched into George who grabbed her and spun, taking the vial on his own back. She felt his muscles spasm around her.

  “Help!” She wanted to scream as George collapsed onto her. His eyes met hers. The wolf was high in them but confused. Dulled as she never seen his beast before. She stifled her cry for help when she saw George’s skin ripple.

  “Oh no,” she said as George sank down onto his knees, back arching.

  Mr. Pallister took her arm and began dragging her away from George. She looked back at him, saw him spasm and then shift into a wolf.

  “Oh, Mr. Pallister,” she said. “You are an idiot.”

  “Don’t be a fool,” Pallister snarled. “Shifting on St. Claire land could get him slain, but it will give me time to get away with you.

  Phoebe struggled, for she could feel the instant focus of the vampires. They sensed the werewolf, and they were furious. She felt as if she’d just changed from hunter to prey. Pallister laughed as he looked back at George.

  “Come,” Pallister hissed.

  The wolf version of George was no elegant creature. He was a hulking beast, and his eyes screamed murder as he struggled to free himself of the tatters that remained of his clothes.

  She stopped fighting Pallister. He laughed as he let go of her second arm, thinking that she’d given up and he’d be able to drag him after her by her bicep. He was very wrong.

  As soon as one arm was free, she twisted the captive arm until she broke Pallister’s grip. The next moment, she didn’t try to run. She jumped into the air and as she landed, elbowed Pallister in the throat. She felt the delicate bones of his throat break under the forced of the injury.

  The fool crumpled. He struggled at her feet, gasping for breath, seeking his wolf. He would be found quickly, and they would send for a healer, but she didn’t care about that. She looked over her shoulder and saw George shaking off the shift with eyes turned towards them. Mere seconds had passed, but the vampires would be coming strong and fast.

  She didn’t wait. She dashed into the darkness, knowing he would chase her. He was in full alpha wolf mode, and he loved her. He’d never let her out of his sight. And she had to get him away from vampire land before they were caught. She freed her wolf, dashing towards the wall and leaping over it. The act left her exultant, and the primitive part of her was thrilled that her love, her mate, was after her. It was a game that she’d never expected to play or enjoy.

  But she needed to focus on the most important need. Saving the two of them. She couldn’t be sure how long or far the vampires would chase them.

  If George were caught in wolf form on St. Claire grounds, there would be hell to pay. She shouted so George couldn’t lose her and then took off down the street, kicking off her shoes and letting her fear free. She knew he’d sense it as a wolf, and he did. He let out a howl but dashed so quickly after her that they were free of St. Claire grounds before anyone could come after them.

  Now to become silent. George would follow her fear. If she could get far enough into the city, the emotions of others would mask theirs for all but each other. They were attuned to the other. They needed to get far away from the St. Claire house and then they should be safe.

  She ran, not towards the park—for that was too obvious. Instead she chose the great government halls. The St. Claire’s—as one of the Princes of Kendawyn—held a mansion very near them. The government buildings towered high over the city. The center of the square was a sculpture park with a forest of great stone pillars. They were laid out like a maze and carved with the history of Kendawyn.

  You could get lost in them, those stone trees, and she wanted to do just that.

  George howled again as he ran after her, but she hissed at him, and he cut it off. What had begun as scramble of fear and fury changed to a game when the sense of pursuit seemed to fade.

  But these were vampires. They were not safe yet.

  She sensed the shift in his emotions, the joy that came off of him, and her own mood shifted. She let her body free and ran. And he didn’t, quite, catch her, for he was playing now.

  Her concerns had not faded entirely, but that initial sense of being prey had faded drastically.

  For George, it was better i
n this playful mood. His beast was at the forefront, but he recognized her as his love. If she seemed carefree and happy, he would be playful rather than trying to circle back and hunt those who had dared to hunt them.

  She needed him to catch her in the columns and entice him back into human form before anyone saw them and investigated the werewolf running through the city. Before the St. Claire’s had a trail of rumors to follow.

  She dashed past the gates of the Government Square and darted in.

  George scrambled behind her, claws scraping over the stone road.

  She raced past the first building and the second, heading towards the center of the square where the stone columns rose.

  He was at her feet, pacing her now, tongue lolling as he grinned at her. With the wolf at the forefront, he wasn’t capable of reasoning through their danger—not in the same way as he would as a man. It was up to her until she got him to change.

  She reached the columns, and she heard a scramble of sounds overhead. The vampires.

  She was certain of it. But she also felt as though they hadn’t quite found them yet. This felt more like a survey rather than an intense hunt.

  She pressed back against a column a few rows in. George was next to her but not looking at her. His gaze was up on the sky, and he’d sensed they were being tracked as well. He didn’t seem concerned, which confused her, for a werewolf being tracked by a vampire should be on high alert. The instincts that appeared in these type of circumstances had her people choose the social strictures they had.

  She closed her eyes, mind searching as she was desperate for something, anything to turn him into a man. She would not be able to keep him from attacking as a wolf.

  “George,” she whispered. “Please.”

  He looked at her, eyes shining brilliant gold in the darkness.

  “I’m…”

  Think! Phoebe, think!

  “I’m afraid,” she whispered into his fur, wrapping her arms around his shaggy neck. His growl was instant and low. The vibration of it made the hair on her arms stand up. ‘“I need you.”

  He pressed into her as if to say, Here I am.

  “As a man. I need you to shift for me.”

  He looked at her, confused—for he felt the tracker and the possibility danger.

  “Please,” she said, tears welling. People had been banished or executed for shifting as he’d done at an event in the city. She needed him back.

  Need hit him strong and fierce, and before he was even aware of what he was doing, he pressed her against the column, hidden in the shadows, and kissed her thoroughly.

  “Oh,” she said as he pushed her back with more strength, his body curved around hers, protecting her even as he ravished her mouth.

  “George?” It was a deep voice in the shadows—the tracker.

  George turned. He wore only tatters, but when he said “Devlin?”

  With that name, Phoebe knew they were okay. She had not met George’s friend, but she’d heard of Devlin.

  Of course, Phoebe thought, of course Devlin had caught their scent, knew it for George, and helped to protect him. Phoebe did not know Devlin St. Claire well—but it was he who George had turned her towards when he’d left the city.

  “What happened?” Devlin’s allegiance had to be torn, Phoebe thought. He was a St. Claire and all of his instincts demanded that he find the werewolf who’d risked his family and his home.

  George wasn’t even sure what happened. The wolf had yet to fade fully, and when he looked back at the last half hour, all he remembered was fury and the need to protect.

  “It was Pallister,” Phoebe told them both. She must have recognized the confusion on his face and she spoke mostly to him though she answered Devlin’s question. “He threw a vial at me, and George protected me from it. It made George shift, and then Pallister tried to drag me away while George shifted. But of course…”

  “George is very fast,” Devlin said, eyes red with rage. He took off his cloak and threw it at George. “Pallister always was a fool. How did you get away from him?”

  “Phoebe’s wolf is…” George didn’t even know how to explain to someone who wasn’t wolf. Perfectly controlled. He shouldn’t be surprised for Phoebe was a constant surprise. He’d assumed her wolf was buried deep like so many gentlelady’s were. He hadn’t realize that she had such brilliant control, the wolf was high and ready to serve whenever Phoebe needed to call on her beast, as she had that night.

  Saving them both.

  “Pallister…” Devlin said. His eyes were narrowed and the red shining from them bespoke Devlin’s own beast riding high. “I will resolve it.”

  “He is my prey,” George growled.

  Phoebe’s eyes had been cemented upwards when she realized that George wore only tatters, but when she heard George’s protest she struggled.

  And when she did, he pulled away immediately.

  "Stop," she demanded. Her breath was heaving, her scent was so mixed with his own that his fury had calmed. "You can't just... This is totally inappropriate. You could have just ruined me. Ruined us both. Our places in society and our chances for a future. You can't do this to me."

  “Phoebe, darling, Pallister is no match for me.”

  “George Bentworth!” Her voice was a hiss low and angry. “You let Mr. St. Claire deal with Pallister.”

  "It is you, I think," he said as he gathered control of himself, "that is doing this to me. Making me crazy. Not Pallister.”

  Devlin chuckled under his breath as they fought.

  "I am doing nothing," she growled at him, furious that her beast was still so near the surface. "You bounded into our lives like a lost dog, and you can find your way out again. Or you can protect our family by letting Devlin deal with that, with that…creature.”

  "Did you just call me a dog?" he growled.

  And then he laughed, a great rolling laugh. And with the shout of joy, he swept her closer, ignoring her struggles, and kissed her thoroughly.

  “Fine. Devlin, make him suffer. I have a female to please, and she’s the type to tell my mother on me.”

  “Indeed I am,” she agreed, laying her head on his shoulder for a moment and saying to him—though, of course, Devlin could hear. “I was so afraid.”

  The fury rose high in George again, but it couldn’t last with the way that Phoebe was finally snuggled into him where she belonged.

  He smiled at her, a tender, sweet smile.

  He'd convinced himself that she was the princess in his fairytale, and he intended on seeing that through. She was going to let him.

  And what about later? When they’d lived together for half a century? If she gave into him?

  “I think we should be clear,” she said, “that if you ever give me cause to regret this, this…”

  “Love,” he filled in the pause in her sentence.

  “I will torture you and make you pay. I will enlist your mother, Rodger, and every single person in your life and make you suffer.”

  “You are saving me. I will spend the rest of my days loving you and making you and Rodger happy, if you’ll let me.”

  She knew he was telling the truth, but when he begged her to save him again, her heart broke, for he let her see his loneliness It was the feeling that had been growing since he first saw her, since he first decided to listen to his mother, since he realized how empty his life was.

  "Save me from my life. Make a new one with me. I need you and Rodger.” His voice was low, but it carried to her, and her scent changed--just a bit as he said it. “From now until forever.”

  “Forever and always.” She said. It was a promise and a demand.

  He agreed and kissed her again, a kiss as fierce and loving as it had been when he’d been lost to his beast. Neither cared that Devlin watched and neither cared when he disappeared. They were lost in the gift each of them had found in the other.

  THE END

  Ratings are very important to an author. If you enjoyed reading Bewildered By L
ove as much as I enjoyed writing it, it would mean a lot if you’d leave a quick review.

  Another story of the Wolfemuire clan is now available. Check out, Compelled By Love, if you’d like to learn more about this family of werewolves and their loves.

  Also available in the world of Kendawyn, Goodbye Love by Auburn Seal. Check it out!

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I should be saying thank you to a load of wonderful people who help this book to come to pass. There’s Auburn and Taryn and Kristyn and Carissa and Pamela. Lots more. But mostly I’m just so dang grateful to have progress and see this book come to pass. I’m grateful to have written another story. Good or bad, it makes me feel like a real-er author. (Outstanding writing there, yeah?) And that my friends is entirely selfish. I’m a selfish lass with a selfish view point and good friends despite that. So thanks to those people who love and encourage and help me even though I’m a brat.

  And, mostly thank you to my little ones who won’t read this story for some time. They’re the reason I keep trying so hard to make writing more than just my hobby and joy. But they’re also the reason that we eat anything other than cereal, and they’re the reason that I am researching mini-vans despite once saying that a single girl with a mini-van might as well lock in the spinster status, buy 11 cats, and stop shaving her legs. So thanks to my babies for all the goods of my life even with the impending mini-van. There aren’t really any bads—excepting the accidental head-butts and the whole taking turns waking mommy up every night thing. If you like this story, thank them…because if I didn’t adore them and want them to have a good life, I’d be sleeping right now instead of wrapping up this book. So—thanks babies of mine. You’re the stars in my sky and the lights of my life.