Wolf Warrior 01 The Lost Wolf Warrior

by Rae Monet

  "Thank you for the greeting, old friend. Now go!” She waved her hand. “Quickly—check the perimeter.” Caine barked, then ran off.

  When she began to rise, Roan shifted and braced her good arm with his as he helped her up. When she stood, he slowly ran his hand down her arm before releasing it. She gave an involuntary shudder and closed her eyes.

  "Roan, you must learn to control that, it is distracting to my senses.” She waved her hand at him. She silently called to stop Caine from her last order, and he immediately came running.

  "Wake Richard, and prepare to leave,” she instructed. “Come, we will wash, and I will show you what problems your thoughts can cause.” She indicated that he should follow her. They walked down to the river out of sight of camp. She bent down to the water and with her good arm scooped the wetness onto her face and neck.

  * * * *

  Roan watched her. She was so incredibly beautiful, he wanted to feel her naked skin against his, wanted to run his hands through her dark mane of hair.

  He wanted to eat her up.

  "Roan.” She commanded him. “You must learn to control this. I cannot even think, your desires are crowding my mind."

  "What?” He asked in stunned surprise. “What do you feel?"

  She circled him. She reached over and pulled his shirt from his body, throwing it angrily to the ground and continued to stalk him. She was so close—he could smell her scent, feel the burn of her hand touching him, and sense her desire—his balls pulled up and his prick hardened. She started speaking to him, her magical voice attempting to penetrate his desire-soaked mind.

  "As a Solarian Wolf Warrior you must discipline yourself to clear your thoughts, to stay focused so you can predict your enemies’ movements.” She continued to step around him.

  "Remember who I am. I am your enemy. You would do well not to forget that fact.” She ran her hand from the top of one shoulder and ever so slowly, dragged her hand down his back as she walked. He sucked in his breath. His dick was straining against his breeches, his breath becoming labored. He was beginning to sweat.

  "If your thoughts are filled, you will be unable to use your senses, thereby making you vulnerable to attack.” With a quick movement, she held a dagger up to his throat. He reached out to capture her arm, but he was too late. She applied pressure to the dagger lightly piercing his skin below his main artery.

  "Do you see what I am saying, see how close your enemy can get when your mind is crowded?” He released her arm and she pulled the dagger from his throat. “You will get yourself killed and me along with you with these blinding emotions in your head.” She lightly thumped his head with her knuckles.

  His eyes swung to hers.

  Christ, she was right.

  He cursed himself.

  Suppressing his desire, he tried to feel for her next move. She continued to stride around him, her step agile, practiced. When he cleared his mind, he could anticipate her next step and was able to predict her direction. He slid one foot back and locked it behind hers. Pushing her backward, she lost her balance. He turned and, in a lightning flash move, plucked the knife from her hand. His arms locked on her body, gently allowing her to fall back onto the ground. The dagger was now at her throat.

  "I have told you,” he lightly caressed her throat with the tip of the dagger, “we will never be enemies. I would have killed you just now, if that were the case."

  Her surprised expression made him smile, and he released the dagger from her neck.

  "No one has ever brought me down before. Your power is strong when you concentrate."

  She smiled at him. Her smile was magnificent, softening the serious lines of her face. She wore only her leather halter, and with his bare chest pressed against her, he could feel her naked arms touching his skin. The effect was beyond distracting, to say the least.

  * * * *

  Serena's eyes widened when she felt his sexual thoughts return. Before she could protest, his lips claimed hers in a gentle, yet firm, kiss. All contemplation of fighting him left her mind with the touch of his lips against hers. White-hot desire shot through her body, so burning that she groaned in response to it. Then his lips altered from gentle to ravenous as they devoured hers, greedily wetting them with his tongue, then re-taking them with his mouth. She could taste him, his tongue mixing with hers.

  Oh God.

  Her hands roamed over his shoulders and down his naked back. She felt his large muscles tense under her stroking hand and heard his moan. Suddenly, she felt a prick on her neck, and he raised his eyes to hers. They were dark with desire. His body was hard all over. His cock fit perfectly into the vee of her legs. She wanted more. It took her a few seconds to realize that he held the dagger to her neck.

  His breathing was harsh, uncontrolled. “Now, who has lost their concentration?"

  Her eyes strayed to the dagger and she couldn't help but laugh at his accomplishment. “I guess we both must learn to control this."

  He nodded, and helped her stand up. He handed her the dagger and dove into the cold, deep river, breeches and all.

  * * * *

  Roan climbed out of the water and donned his tunic. It clung to his wet skin. His lust had cooled by the time he returned to camp.

  Richard had swiftly packed their belongings. He approached Serena and gently unwrapped her bandage to check on her wound. “It is healing well,” He rewrapped her shoulder.

  She placed her hand on her brother's shoulder and patted it.

  "You are a gifted healer. As always the wound is none but a bother, with little pain,” she concluded. He smiled and she dropped her arm.

  They both reached out and clasped their hands on each other's forearm. She recited something in a foreign language that he recognized as Gaelic. “A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne."

  Richard repeated the phrase back to her. Although he didn't speak the language, for some reason he recognized the phrase they had just recited to each other and without realizing it he spoke it out loud in English, “We protect our own."

  They both turned.

  "Ah,” Serena pivoted her arm toward him, stretching it out in invitation. He extended his hand and slowly clasped her arm in his. Memories assaulted him of another time and place. He had repeated this very same movement when he was very young. He was now as sure as the impending day that he was familiar with this greeting. His eyes met hers, and she understood how he felt.

  He recited the phrase, “A'Don ar Cuideachd-ne,” to her in Gaelic and she repeated it to him. They continued to clasp arms.

  "You have not forgotten all.” She released his arm. “That is our pledge of honor as Solarians to each other."

  Roan dropped his arm and ran his hand through his hair, a habitual frustrated gesture. “No, it seems I have not forgotten everything."

  * * * *

  Serena heard him murmur. With a single nod, she turned to her brother. “We must continue our quest. Did you gather any useful information in the last township?"

  Grasping her sword and scabbard, she made a slow circle with her shoulder to test her arm with the weapon.

  "I was able to learn that Ziem had been at that township not three days past and he is also traveling south."

  "Well done.” She pulled on her scabbards and sheathed her swords behind her back. Moving toward her horse, she picked up the saddle and tried to throw it on Greystar's back. She made several attempts, however, the loss of strength in her arm wouldn't allow her to continue.

  Roan moved next to her. He stayed her with a placating hand. She narrowed her eyes but allowed him to saddle Greystar for her. She watched as he ran his hand over the horse's flank. He clearly admired her stout Realm steed—a mixture of sturdy Scottish horseflesh and an Arabian stallion—brought back from a strange faraway land by a Realm traveler. She shook her head as she forced her eyes from his hands and tried to focus her thoughts on something besides this compelling man.

  "This is good news that we are close. We must ride ahead quickly. We ha
ve already lost too much time.” Using her good arm, she swung herself into her saddle. Richard followed her action.

  "Roan, you have given me enough information. Someone from the Realm will be in contact with you. We must leave now."

  * * * *

  Roan's blood boiled with rage. Dismissed. Just like that.. Someone would be in contact with him. He didn't think so, and she was not getting away from him that easily, not after all the information she had just given him.

  "Hold,” Roan ordered. “What is this quest?” He moved over to saddle his own horse, his actions quick and sure. He vaulted his large muscular frame easily into the saddle, and positioned himself next to her.

  "We have been sent on a quest to retrieve an outlaw,” she explained. “He has been condemned for taking a life and has stolen the historical scrolls of the Realm."

  At his look of bewilderment, she sighed. She must have realized he knew nothing of their people or their story.

  "For almost thirty years our people have been forbidden to leave the secret Realm. Only a chosen few are allowed to hunt, gather our food stocks and herbs, some are given permission to travel. This is done for the protection of our village. We moved our village to a secret location in the Scottish Highlands—as you call them—when the English attacked our people nearly thirty years ago for our religious beliefs and our strong mind abilities. They felt our skills were a threat to their way of life. Thus, they branded us carriers of the devil, witches. Many of our people were slaughtered that day as the English attempted to eradicate us, as they did our warrior protectors, the wolf."

  She dropped her head in sadness.

  "There is only one scroll that documents our location and our history of the Realm. The scroll Ziem has stolen also contains a map to our location in the mountains. It is well protected, all hours of the day."

  "Ziem has always been resistant to our ways,” she continued. “He lived just outside the village and attempted to stir unrest within the Society, about our chosen ways, our customs. We are a peaceful culture, and the taking of a Solarian life is forbidden."

  She explained, “Ziem struck down the guard of the scrolls and took them. He now has the ability to lead outsiders into the Realm. This could be perilous to our people and disrupt our solitude as well as our well-being.” She captured his arm in hers again. “Our vow to protect each other is threatened with this scroll in Ziem's possession.” Her eyes beseeched him to understand.

  "We believe he wishes to harm the people of the Realm and will bring back the wrath that ended the lives of so many of us, the siege that lost you to us."

  She paused as she let him absorb the enormity of her account.

  "This cannot happen. We must capture Ziem and retrieve the scroll. We suspect he has taken it to prove the Realm exists. We believe he intends to use it to gain support to attack the Realm, mayhap attempt to force us to integrate back into the outside world. It is imperative we find him—he threatens our people.” She sighed and wrapped her fingers above his wrist onto his forearm. As tears formed in her eyes, he had a remarkable urge to protect her.

  "I know I do not fare well in what I am trying...” She paused, and took an audible breath. “Please tell me you understand this. I fear I am not saying what needs to be said. It is a long tale, and to try and explain such history in such a short time..."

  His gaze roved over her beautiful face, and he understood what she was saying. This man, Ziem, threatened their entire way of life. Bringing outsiders into their world could destroy them. He appreciated why they had been persecuted for their unique strengths. He could see why the English King would find their extraordinary abilities a threat and order their deaths. He understood now why she was trying so hard to make them enemies, why her people so hated the English. Why she fought to keep that value so strong in her mind, despite the fact the he felt her softening toward him. She wanted—he sensed it—she wanted to teach him her ways, the traditions of their people.

  Roan was familiar with King, Edward I. He was a greedy man, obsessed in his need to conquer all and seek superiority for the English. Slowly he removed her hand from his arm and clasped it between his own, his eyes never leaving hers as he brought her hand to his lips. Her eyes widened and he repeated his personal vow in Gaelic, the language slowly returning to him, against her hand. His lips touched her knuckles and nothing existed but the two of them.

  "A'Don ar Cuid-ne, I protect my own,” he said, altering the vow slightly. “Please, let there be a truce between us. I understand what you are saying, and I will be joining you.” It was the right action to take. It felt so cleansing, as if it was his destiny. As if his path in life had always been to join with his people, and this woman.

  "You do not need to.” She kept her hand in his.

  * * * *

  "This is not your fight, you will only feel resistance from my people toward you. It will not be...” Serena shifted in her saddle, she hated to say it but she needed to. A small part of her still wanted to fight this softening she had toward him. “It will not be comfortable for you."

  "I will join you. I am meant to be with my people. You know this, why do you question it?” he asked in a stronger voice. “Can you agree to join with me on this?"

  She smiled at his conviction, squeezing his hand in hers. She sighed.

  How could she deny this man anything?

  "Yes, for a short time I will agree to a truce between us."

  "For a short time only?” He had a look she was starting to recognize, his mouth lifted on the end, the beginnings of a smile.

  "Yes, a short time only, but it can be only us. We cannot threaten the Realm by allowing outsiders in, such as your friend, and it will be dangerous.” He nodded abruptly, released her hand and pulled his horse away.

  "We will move to the next township. My man is there, and I will tell him to return to my castle without me. Then we will travel through the night in an attempt to catch Ziem."

  She momentarily stiffened at the command in his voice, then she relaxed. Without a doubt, he was in the leadership role now, and she was comfortable giving it to him. In her heart she knew he was meant to be there, to guide them on this challenging quest. He was the rightful leader, a trueborn warrior through to his bone, despite the obstacles that were thrown in front of him.

  Legend told that a true warrior of the wolf would save their people. It had been recited over several decades, and she knew the tale well. Two warriors of the wolf, soul mates destined to be together, would one day save the Realm from certain destruction. She hesitated to share the tale because their path was so uncertain and dangerous that she didn't want to disrupt their mission with legends of love. Besides, he was English and it seemed unbelievable they would ever be mates.

  Her emotions were conflicted, obviously matching her actions. One moment she was passionately kissing him, the next she was telling them they were enemies. It was almost comical. But she recognized somewhere deep in her heart this would not be an easy path he was choosing, for either of them. She also sensed she would need to come to terms with what her heart was telling her, sooner or later—she just chose later.

  Nonetheless, she had felt a deep connection with this man from the moment she had felt his mind call to her. That connection far transcended any other union she had experienced in her life. It was disturbing and distracting, but she held the information to herself in fear of the harm it might cause. She was not fit to lead with this distraction, so she would pass control to him, and she would be there to teach him. She signaled Caine to follow as they rode out to attack the muddy roads ahead.

  * * * *

  The group rode several tiresome hours to the next settlement to meet his man. Roan's confidence and knowledge of the surrounding area boded well for them and he was able to shorten their trip by taking the quickest, most direct routes. All their mounts were strong and surefooted and didn't shy away from the labor needed to carry them over the long road. Near dawn, Richard rode next to Serena as they approa
ched the village.

  "I sense unease in you, distraction, which has already resulted in one injury. I think I know the cause,” nodding first to her injured shoulder, then to Roan.

  She hung her head at Richard's comment. She could never hide anything from her twin.

  "I feel a profound connection to him, more than I even have with you.” His eyes widened at the impact of her statement. “He disturbs my senses,” she confessed, “dulls them and I am unsure why."

  He chuckled, but her sharp gaze silenced him.

  "It is the desire. To our senses, it is the most damaging of all emotions."

  "What is the cure for this distraction? I must clear my senses, otherwise I shall go mad."

  He laughed. Roan turned his head to check on them. He rode ahead, out of earshot, for which she was grateful.

  "I fear it will not be long before you realize the cure, sister of mine.” He laughed again at her frustration and heard her growl as she shoved him. He continued to chuckle as he righted himself on his horse.

  "But he is English.” He grunted in disapproval.

  "You of all people know that means nothing to me. I am not at all convinced it should mean anything to you, little sister.” He shook his head when she was about to protest.

  "You are better than that, and you sense the goodness in him. He is a strong leader, a good man, even I sense this about him. How he was raised should not matter.” His chastising of her had her hanging her head in shame. He was right, she had sensed these attributes in Roan. She raised her head and gazed at Richard.

  "Thank you, brother. I will try to remember this."

  She loved this brother of hers, her only sibling, but she also sensed a disturbance in him. She hesitated to question him on this disruption because she knew how much he guarded his privacy. As a healer, he usually radiated such balance, however, as of late she had sensed an unusual pain in him when he used his gift.