Wolf Warrior 01 The Lost Wolf Warrior

by Rae Monet

  "Why do you smile?"

  "Your father is a persuasive man. I see why he leads your people.” he commented, wiping the blood from his new wound.

  "I will not do this, and he will not force me. He might be a boar on the outside, but it will not take much for me to convince him he has made a grave error."

  With her words, Roan's smile was wiped off his face. He looked hurt.

  "What do you mean, error?” he asked moving closer, so close she could see the angry rise and fall of his chest.

  "I have already told you I am my own woman. I will have no one push me to marry, nor push you. What manner is this to start a life together?” He was still, then he shrugged his shoulder and his face took on a pensive expression.

  "I have no quarrel with it.” His statement left her mouth hanging, forming an O with her lips.

  "No quarrel, no quarrel—?” She shook her head at his smile. “You have gone mad,” she finally declared.

  "I have told you since the first time we joined that you were mine. I knew it then. I told you not to doubt it. I never have.” His hands reached out and ran down her back. She shivered with the want he so easily evoked.

  "A forced marriage is no answer. Our people have always been free to choose their mates.” She sucked in her breath as his hands moved down to rest on her rear, pulling her against him.

  "Serena,” he whispered against her lips, “I am one of the most feared knights in England, the Wolf no less. No one forces me to do anything against my will, not your father, not anyone.” His lips claimed hers for everyone to see, and she responded as she usually did—with passion. He bent her back against his arms in his enthusiasm to taste her.

  "Wolves, little one,” he said, smiling against her mouth, “freely pick a mate and keep them for life. And I pick you.” His breath panted out, and he finally released her. She sagged against him, her legs weakened by passion. Righting her, he took one step back.

  She glanced at him then. At his disheveled hair, at his wrinkled tunic where her hands had clutched it, and finally at the hard erection he was trying to hide. The absurdity of her protest hit her and she laughed so hard she doubled over, holding her sides.

  What was she thinking to refuse this glorious man? The one she loved so much, who obviously had no issues with marrying her, who announced to the entire village his intent by bending her over in his arms and smothering her with his mouth. He had kissed her intentionally in front of a troop of warriors just to solidify his claim on her. She held up her hands when he tried to talk, to stop him, and finally straightened.

  She turned and walked away, but his shout stopped her. “Serena!"

  She whirled. In his eyes, she saw uncertainty and something akin to fear.

  "You'll marry me?” he asked in a low voice. In all the time she had known him, she had never seen him so contrite.

  She raised her arms. “When you ask so sweetly, how can I refuse?"

  His smile gave way to one of her own. She waved and swirled around, and vaguely heard his shout of triumph followed by the congratulations of his family.

  * * * *

  The celebration of the impending nuptials lasted throughout the evening. The Realm musicians were at their best, dallying with their Celtic instruments as if they were children discovering their first toys. Feeling an even deeper love in his heart, Roan watched Serena spin with wild abandon. She was at ease with her surroundings, involved in living for the simple joy of it. She had cast off her warrior leathers and now danced in a delicate hand spun ivory dress, twirling in a circle, her head thrown back, her arms raised in abandon, her smile glowing. He had never seen her look so ravishing, nor so alive.

  He leaned against his family's dwelling, captivated by the woman he would marry in the morn. Immersed in his yearning, he didn't hear his father's approach until an arm fell onto his shoulder. He turned and smiled.

  "You are lucky, son, to capture a woman such as Serena."

  "Yes, Father, I wholeheartedly agree. But I must say, I believe she captured me.” In a return gesture, he clapped his hand onto his father's shoulder. He watched his father's chest expand.

  "You cannot imagine how sorely thankful I am to hear the word ‘father’ from you.” The wistful expression on his father's face nearly brought tears to Roan's eyes.

  "I too, Father.” His life was full now that he had reunited with Serena and his people. Although he would always be grateful to his adopted father and his brother Stephen, he had never felt the sense of belonging with them that he did here. He had a real sense of purpose.

  They both remained silent in commemoration of the activities, the moon, and the warmth of the evening. The sight of Serena held Roan in awe. He glanced at his father, who watched his mother with what he guessed must be the same expression of wonder. He breathed in contentment, happy to live in the warmth of such love.

  * * * *

  "Where is she?” Roan asked.

  Serena's father pointed to a small ridge rising above the forest. It was an oddity in a sea of trees, a tall mossy mountain steepled above the numerous green sticks. They were to marry in less than a quarter hour and no bride had yet appeared.

  Worrying, Roan wondered if she had reconsidered his clumsy proposal. He'd been grateful to her father when he dropped him to the ground and announced he would marry his daughter. It had saved him the trouble of bumbling through something he had no idea how to do, that of asking the woman he loved to share his life. He was a knight more attuned to which sword to use in battle than how to woo a woman.

  He paced, back and forth, side to side. With each step his gaze rose to the ridge. As the moment of reckoning neared, he became restless. A hand on his arm soothed his rapid breathing.

  "Go to her.” Richard nodded toward the ridge.

  * * * *

  Roan found her standing on the ridge, looking like an angel come to life. She was absorbed in the landscape of the Realm. The valley was untouched, forgotten by outsiders, made it seemed, for only one purpose—to provide her people with a way to live, a life of security and comfort, and peace. The wind lifted her unbound hair from the shoulders of her hand-spun wedding dress. The gown draped against her feminine curves, falling just below her ankles, pooling and swaying in the breeze.

  He stood next to her, trying to sense her true feelings. She was purposely blocking him. His gaze left the view of the forest to fall upon her face. He saw the tears streaming down her cheeks, and suddenly her thoughts hit him like a full force gale. He wasn't sure what to say, what to do, so he simply pulled her into his arms and rested his head against the top of hers. When she spoke, he sensed he wasn't going to like what she was about to say.

  "What is it, little one?"

  "I cannot leave here."

  He closed his eyes, not wanting to hear the rest.

  "These are my people, my family. I have vowed to protect them, and someday lead them, just as you have vowed to protect yours. I cannot leave."

  "And I cannot stay. I must return to my castle. My people depend on me. I fear if I stay away much longer, the King will confiscate my lands. My reign is kind, others may not be. Life for my tenants could hold starvation, a life of servitude and poverty, if I do not return."

  "I know.” She raised her hands and ran her fingers along his brow. “I know you must return.” She dropped her hands.

  "I want to take you with me.” He picked up her hands and held them to his mouth. “As my lady wife."

  More tears coursed down her face.

  "Roan, I cannot leave, and any belief I could would be purely self-seeking on my part. I'm sorry for ever agreeing to this union."

  "Tell me plainly what you are saying.” He dropped her hands.

  "I cannot marry you. We are destined to be apart. You have your castle, your people, and I have mine.” She waved her hand. “Look around you, what do you see? What would you have me do, leave them? I am needed here."

  He knew it to be true, she was their future leader. Everything sh
e was saying was real. He pulled away and walked to the edge of the clearing, his eyes unfocused.

  "No,” he said as if to deny her words. She slid behind him, her warmth nestled against his back. He caught her scent. Her arms crept around him from behind.

  "You know it to be true. Why do you deny it?” She was using his own words against him. It wasn't fair.

  He dropped his head. Damn his duty, damn his knightly vow to protect his people, damn it all. “I will give it all up gladly. You know I would."

  She forcefully turned him. “You cannot, you will not!"

  He knew she was right. Too many people relied on him.

  "You will prepare to return on the morrow.” She straightened his tunic.

  "I cannot..."

  She turned away. Gazing out over the terrain, she squared her shoulders. “I do not love you."

  He never wanted to hear those words; they pierced his heart like thrown daggers. He grabbed her arm and swung her around. “You know I can prove you wrong with one touch of our lips. Your words are cowardly. They hold no honor.” His anger rang in his scornful voice.

  She shook off his arm and stepped away, trying to ignore him.

  "Serena, do not...” He saw her determined expression.

  "Please leave.” Her voice was cold, her resolve unmoving.

  "If you wish us to part, I will leave.” His voice and his body shook as her words sank in. Was it possible she was telling the truth? No, it could not be. She was just trying to build a wall between them.

  "I do!” Her voice became louder as if she was trying to convince herself by increasing her volume. “I do wish it."

  He ran an unsteady hand through his hair. He hadn't actually ever declared his love, although what he felt inside was as big and deep as the ocean. And ... she hadn't declared her love either. Maybe she didn't feel what he felt.

  "Be sure of this."

  "I am sure. Take your sister with you. Teach her your ways and she will teach you ours."

  "Serena...” His voice trailed off because her emotions were completely blocked. With a sinking feeling, he realized he could not sense whether or not she told a falsehood. “All you need do is ask,” he said gruffly.

  "I will not ask. Go.” Her voice lowered, became a whisper. As a final gesture, she whirled back around and slowly removed the crystal her father had given her. She dropped the jewel around his neck. “I will not ask."

  His pride finally kicked in. He gave a cold bow and said, “As you wish.” He left without looking back.

  As he stumbled his way down the mossy bank, his anger peaked. If she didn't love him enough to fight for him, to sacrifice for him, maybe they were not destined to be together after all.

  He gathered his wits in the short trip down. Upon his return, he dispersed the waiting group, announcing that Serena had decided against the marriage.

  Her father approached him. Roan's jerky movements while saddling his horse left no doubt of his anger. “What goes on?"

  Roan leaned his arms against his horse while he contemplated what he would tell this huge man. Finally, he dropped his hands and faced him.

  "She has chosen not to wed. She explained in no uncertain terms she has no love for me."

  Even voicing Serena's words caused him pain. He raised his gloved hand to the back of his neck in an attempt to rub out the tension.

  "So that is it then?” John's eyes narrowed as he stared at Roan with an expression closely akin to disgust.

  He threw up his hands in frustration. “What would you have me do? The woman was clear she did not want me!"

  "You appealed to her?” John leaned his hand against Roan's shoulder in an unexpected gesture of affection.

  "I appealed to her. God's blood, I begged her, man."

  John slowly nodded his head, and dropped his hand in a sign of finality. “You will always be welcome here."

  Surprised, his eyes met Serena's father's to confirm the truth. He nodded to acknowledge John's invitation. “Thank you.” An awkward silence fell between them.

  "Give her time. Perhaps it will change the situation."

  "She has all the time she wants.” He turned and continued to load his gear, sensing John's disappointment at the turn of events. He chanced a quick glance at John as he worked with practiced efficiency, preparing to depart. He knew the pain John was feeling and shared his frustration, but there was nothing he could do.

  "Roan, I...” He watched John fumble with his words. “I have always given Serena the freedom of choice in who she weds. It is our way, but...” he paused again, “but I can order her to marry, should I choose."

  Roan went still. He wanted to say yes. He wanted to nod affirmatively to John's proposal to make Serena marry him. But he could not. He could not wed Serena under forced circumstances. Just as he had told her, he entered into the marriage freely, and he wanted the same from her. He shook his head, eyeing John. “It could never be the way."

  "I know, Roan. I know. Safe journey. I will not say goodbye in hopes that it will not be.” John turned and walked away.

  Roan's anger returned, driving him to finish packing. His family surrounded him, filled with concern. He damped down his fury enough to give them an explanation and leave directions to where they could reach him. His mother's sniffles could not be muffled, not even with his promise to return to visit someday.

  Lastly, he turned to his sister. “Diana, I would invite you to journey with me."

  Without hesitation, she said, “I will gather my gear.” She swiftly departed.

  He faced his brother. “Jacob, you are welcome to come, yet I sense your duty is here."

  The younger version of himself, his brother, nodded. “I regret you are correct. I am saddened our time together has been so short. Someday I would like to know you better.” Jacob clasped his arm in his and spoke to Roan with his mind sense.

  I must stay and protect them. It is my duty. Yours lies outside of this Realm.

  I know, Jacob, I understand. Someday we will be together again.

  I do not doubt it.

  Then Jacob smiled at him. Roan sensed this brother of his was strong, maybe even stronger than he.

  "Take care, brother.” Roan made the rest of his goodbyes, then left with Diana in tow. Sasha trailed him until the end of the forest. He commanded her to remain. Diana disputed his order, but he explained what the world outside the Realm was like for the hunted wolf and she ceased her protests.

  Sasha remained where he commanded her, but her howls of grief could be heard for miles. Her cries were nearly his undoing.

  * * * *

  What he didn't hear were Serena's own cries as she watched him depart the Realm, creeping out of the forest to stand next to Sasha. Between her howls of pain, she whispered how much she loved him. She and Sasha were truly one in their anguish. Serena tried to tell herself it had been the right thing to do, a necessary sacrifice. She would not have him give up his lands, his keep, his people, and resent her for the rest of his life. But no matter how much she told herself it had been the true action to take, her heart broke. Her eyes did not stop tearing, and her mind did not stop loving him.

  * * * *

  Three months later:

  Wolfsmoor Castle, England's Border

  Roan leaned against the battlements facing the surroundings hills. He was looking toward the Highlands. The rising green embankments encircling the castle reminded him of the color of Serena's eyes. His mood was unsettled, and the anger from his final encounter with her remained. He was aware that his fierceness, combined with his anger, made being around him impossible. Even though his black mood touched everyone, he could not bring himself to change. Ian was the only one assigned to seek him out, which he did on few occasions.

  Winter was approaching. His breath puffed out in white clouds. He was wrapped in his cape, which draped over full English armor. Under his tunic he bore a wolf, the symbol of his castle and his reign. He shivered, the cold penetrating to his bones.


  Since his departure from Serena, he never warmed. The chill reached much further than his limbs, slicing straight to his heart. He fingered the now-healed cut on his neck and his hand strayed to the crystal, caressing it as if it were Serena.

  Amazingly, it had taken weeks for his injury to heal after he had departed the Realm, proof his connection with Serena was magical only when they were joined.

  The Scottish raids on the castle had grown more frequent and feral. If he didn't know better, he would say Robert the Bruce was doing it purposely, punishing him. He had lost some of his best men in the last raid.

  Ian's sudden presence startled him, and he turned with sword drawn. He, like his sister, had completely lost control of his senses—they were now wild and uncontrolled.

  "Ah, laddie, it's only me.” Ian held up his hands in a sign of universal surrender.

  Cursing himself for not sensing Ian's friendly presence as opposed to an enemy's, he replaced his weapon.

  The war cries of Diana had them both turning to face the practicing field. He shook his head when he saw his sister locked in combat with Stephen.

  Stephen Aston, his adopted brother, had been sent to him at the young age of twelve as squire by his father. His goal was to train for knighthood. Now at a score and five years, Stephen was a skilled knight and a good friend, although he did have a less than amenable demeanor.

  They had seen much warring together, and he was afraid Stephen had not fared well from it. He had a quiet, dark countenance, speaking too little, feared by most, and for this reason, none would challenge him. But his little sister had no fear and she had dared Stephen on her first day at the keep.

  Roan reflected back on that day.

  * * * *

  The day they had finally reached the castle, they had been tired, hungry and his mood had been none too happy when they rode through the castle gates. Stephen and Ian had greeted them, Ian throwing himself into Roan's arms in his typical Irish, outgoing fashion. Stephen had hung back patiently, finally clasping his arms in a warrior's welcome, saying he was glad Roan had returned safe.

  When Stephen noticed Diana, in the traditional knightly way, he attempted to help her off her horse. She snapped at him, slapping his hands away and announcing she needed no assistance. Stephen, not accustomed to the ways of a warrior woman, continued to hold her around the waist until her feet touched the ground. She immediately pulled the dagger attached to her arm and held it up to his neck, requesting the next time she told him to keep his hands off her, he do so.