Plus, he had his pride.
He didn’t want to admit to his older brother that his memories of being trapped in the Ether had become nightmares for him now that he was free.
Anna had settled her hips against a half-fallen tree that leaned to form a convenient triangle with the ground and its trunk. He’d managed to ignore her stretching...mostly...and now she was still save for the occasional sips she took from a water bottle she’d taken from the pack on her back.
She would be a distraction if she didn’t move at all.
Her red silk cloak was gone. Probably rolled and stowed away in her backpack. She wore a green jacket the deep, rich color of summer leaves and thigh-hugging black leggings that were the thinnest, smoothest leather he’d ever seen. There were machines now that mass-produced the clothing that people had worked weeks to craft in his time.
The result of her outfit was practical as well as torturous...for him, at least. He could see every curve and dip and fine line of her body without even trying. She was fully covered and alluringly revealed at the same time.
He tried not to notice. Not only because it was torture, but also because he had no right to appreciate the womanly curves of a person who was his enemy. He was furious with himself for touching her when she’d fallen during her dismount. She hadn’t been hurt or in danger. He’d had no obligation. It had been the habit of centuries to spring during her distress.
But his touch had only increased it.
He’d seen the pain in her wide green eyes. They’d gleamed with a shimmer of tears in the bright mountain sun. He’d wanted to ease her pain. He’d wanted to ease his own. He’d almost been entranced with the idea of sinking into her and tasting the full swell of her blush-red lips. She’d licked them as if they’d gone dry and he’d leaned...but then she’d blinked against a flash of blinding sunlight.
The spell had been broken.
At least enough to allow him to gain control and back away.
Now he knew he wanted a witch’s kiss. He wanted to taste her lips, to taste Anna as deeply as she would allow. The hunger for her shocked him all the way to the wolf that slept deep in his heart.
* * *
She didn’t protest when Soren decided to continue on down the mountain. The simple stop had turned into a torturous waiting game. She noticed every step he took and every glance he sent in her direction. As a wolf, he’d been a constant shadow to her movements. As a man, his presence was harder to grow accustomed to. His height and breadth continually drew her attention. His masculine grace constantly startled her. And not only because she looked for the wolf she’d known in his every gesture.
Soren drew her attention because he was impossible to ignore. Like all the Romanovs, he was gifted with a handsome face and a powerful body. But with Soren, that power and attractiveness was paired with occasional moments of alluring approachability. He’d been a commanding presence on his horse at dawn. Now the sunlight still gleamed off his russet hair, but it was no longer smooth. Tendrils had escaped to hang in thick rivulets of curls around his face. They moved as he moved, drawing her eye, causing her fingers to twitch. His brows, eyelashes and beard were a lighter shade of reddish brown. They offset the amber of his eyes and a hint of his sensual lips.
And absolutely none of that was sane for her to notice.
Soren, the red wolf, had been hers. Soren, the man, never would be. It was even worse after their embrace, because she continued to notice every rise and fall of his broad chest even though he’d placed himself several yards away from her while she rested.
When he brought her horse to her, she moved to mount without saying a word.
Soren came within a few feet of her to hold the horse while she climbed into the saddle, and their gazes locked. She had to force herself to look away once she was settled, but that lasted only as long as it took their fingers to brush when she took the reins from his hand.
She still wore her gloves.
They didn’t help.
An arc of power flared in a small jagged bolt of light between their hands. She gasped as the sudden shock turned pleasant, radiating through her body like an electrified caress. The sensation ended as suddenly as it had begun. The electricity dissipated into the air, leaving nothing but pleasure behind.
If Soren had lifted her hand to kiss her fingers, she would have experienced the same aftermath—tingling shock in all the right places that caused her to shift on the saddle.
She blinked, swallowed and tried to remember to breathe normally, while Soren simply looked stunned.
He dropped his hand away from hers and she gripped the reins to hide the trembling in her fingers.
“Control your powers, Princess,” Soren warned. He’d fisted his hand. She wondered if he tingled, too. Her whole body still vibrated from that one arc between them.
“That wasn’t me,” Anna said.
He stepped forward and looked up at her face as if he would argue, but his move brought his body into contact with her leg. Through boot and leather pants she felt his hard chest. How was she supposed to ignore the man he’d become? Especially if they were bound to travel together until they could destroy the sword.
“Are you saying it was me?” Soren asked. But his voice had deepened, as if the contact between her leg and his chest had at least partially given him the answer.
“It’s both of us. Together,” Anna said. Her horse danced sideways away from Soren, and she didn’t stop it.
“I’ll keep my distance,” Soren said. The bright sunlight caused his lashes to make shadows on his cheeks as he lowered his lids and turned his face away.
“The farther the better, I should think,” Anna said. She kneed the sides of her dappled gray and the horse trotted back to the path that would take them down the mountain.
Chapter 7
He’d seen the tracks before he brought Anna her horse. He’d found them as he walked around the clearing looking for a distraction. He couldn’t ignore her. Not a chance. But he could stay busy. That was when he’d seen the obvious imprints of Lev’s paw prints at the edge of the forest.
Lev wasn’t gone.
Relief rushed over him until he thought he’d drowned in it.
Then, for a second, he froze, torn between the chance to find his brother and the age-old need to keep Bell safe. Since Bell was long gone, finding the white wolf had to be his top priority, given any chance of success at all. Lev was more important than the sword. For now. He wasn’t denying the inevitable need to destroy the emerald sword. He was keeping his priorities straight. There was no other reason he would put off destroying the sword.
Certainly not one in formfitting leggings that made it hard for him to concentrate.
He hadn’t had any sign that his brother was still in the forest yesterday. Now that he’d found fresh tracks, he had to try once more to bring Lev home.
He went for the large dappled gray destrier and led it to Anna. She had moved to mount without a word. He’d thought it was going to be quick and easy to follow his brother’s tracks, but one second of contact between his fingers and Anna’s had slowed him down.
His body still shook from her electric touch.
He was on his horse again and he’d taken the lead. He’d veered off onto a different trail and she’d followed without question. This was his mountain. He was familiar with every twisting pathway. He knew each hollow and glade. It was the tingling sensation in his every cell that was new territory.
They really needed to find the sword and end whatever was happening between them.
Volkhvy power was fueled by energy that came from the Ether. Anna shouldn’t be able to use it to create a spark that caused a chain reaction of pleasurable pain to suffuse his entire body. His mind knew that. His body, however, had felt what logic denied.
The Ether was cold. It was a black hole you couldn’t see or
touch. One that devoured, and during that continuous vacuum, it expelled energy that witches could absorb and harness for their spells. At one time, regular folk had tapped into the power as well with mostly harmless hearth magic to help speed recovery of illness or growth of crops, to protect loved ones preparing to set off on long journeys, or to hasten their return.
But there was inherent danger in the Volkhvy race and what they could do with the power from the Ether. His mother was dead because of that power. His father had been corrupted by his lust for it. As the head of Bronwal, it was Ivan’s responsibility to walk the line between trust and caution in dealings with the Volkhvy. Soren was far less willing to walk that line.
Anna had said it wasn’t her. That the arc had been caused by their connection. If that was true, he was as guilty as she was if he allowed himself to enjoy the Volkhvy enchantment that bound them together.
He’d vowed to keep his distance.
He couldn’t allow that promise to be a lie. Until he found Lev, he needed to ignore the spark caused by their connection. He tightened every muscle in his body against the tingling pleasure that lingered. He rode with clenched teeth and a ramrod-straight spine.
And his body still burned.
“We’re riding into the forest, Soren. Deeper into the shadows. Are you sure you took the right path?” Anna said.
He should have known she wouldn’t be a blind follower. Survivors never were. If there was anything of Bell left in Anna, the Light Volkhvy princess, she would always have her eyes open and her wits about her.
“There were tracks in the clearing. Fresh wolf tracks of a particular size,” Soren confessed. “Lev’s tracks.”
He heard the horse behind his come to sudden halt. He reined in as well and turned halfway in his saddle. Anna was right—they’d ridden deeper into the woods where the sunlight didn’t reach. In the velvety shadows, the woman behind him was cloaked in darkness. He couldn’t read her expression. He could only see her porcelain skin and the sheen of ruby lips she must have moistened to speak.
“You said I would frighten him away, but now you’re using me as bait,” Anna said. “I’m dampening my powers and you didn’t warn me about the tracks because you wanted to keep it that way.”
“If I don’t get him back to the castle, he doesn’t have a chance of reclaiming himself,” Soren said. “He won’t harm you.”
“You’re harming me by leading me into danger without giving me a chance to prepare to defend myself,” Anna said. Her voice was quiet and accusatory. The hushed syllables made him flinch. He would have given Bell a choice, but he didn’t trust Anna. He wouldn’t allow anything to happen to her. He needed her to help him lure Lev out of the woods...whether she wanted to or not.
“From what I’ve seen, you don’t need preparation. Those gloves are useless,” Soren said.
“I wouldn’t recommend you put that theory to the test with skin-to-skin contact, Soren Romanov. Not if the arc from earlier is still tingling in you the way it’s tingling in me,” Anna said.
Suddenly, they were talking about something other than finding his brother. He’d sensed the sensual possibilities in that arc of electricity they’d shared. And, yes, his whole body did still tingle, although he tried to ignore it. Some of his reaction to his thoughts must have shown even in the shadows, because Anna’s hands tightened on the reins and her horse took a step toward his. Maybe she could see his face beneath the trees better than he could see hers. He controlled his features. He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. He might be aroused by her suggestion of what would happen if they were suddenly skin to skin, but Anna didn’t need to know.
“I won’t take them off. I won’t risk frightening him away again,” Anna said.
He’d controlled his face. Now he controlled his body. He rejected the electricity because he had to. He had to focus on rescuing Lev. His brother would come for a witch. He was sure of it. His only choice now was to believe what Anna said and hope it wasn’t a mistake.
* * *
Her physical reaction to Soren mocked her now that he’d admitted to leading her haplessly into the forest. She’d been distracted by the lingering effects of the arc between them, and she’d already been taken off guard by his nearness.
Fifty miles apart would be too close to ignore him.
But she was determined that she wouldn’t be the one to destroy Lev’s chance of a reunion with his family. So she kept her gloves in place and held even tighter to the reins to keep from reaching to remove them.
It was impossible not to feel betrayed.
The red wolf wouldn’t have led Bell into danger without a warning.
Soren wasn’t only physically different as a man. He was a complete stranger to her. One that couldn’t be trusted in spite of instincts deep within her that said otherwise. She had relaxed her guard. There was no way around the truth. She had to learn how to see Soren as someone who was a potential enemy rather than a lifelong friend.
“I’ll leave the gloves on, but it will be up to you to protect me from the white wolf,” Anna said. She never would have had to ask the red wolf for protection. His constant, watchful presence had been a promise she didn’t have to seek out or demand. Their circumstances had changed. She had to change with them.
“He won’t harm you,” Soren repeated.
This time she didn’t reply. No matter what the white wolf did, he wouldn’t damage her as much as his brother already had.
Suddenly, Soren jumped off his horse’s back and whacked its flank to urge it to turn and run away. The great black stallion needed no encouragement. It had scented the white wolf on the breeze. Its nostrils flared and it reared up on its hind legs before it whirled to land facing the way they’d come. Anna held on while the gray pranced and whinnied in fear as it responded to its companion’s emotion.
“Let them go,” Soren shouted above the noise of hooves.
The black had lunged into a gallop and was quickly on his way to the sunlit clearing. Soren was beside her as she tried to dismount. Her urgency to avoid getting thrown by the frightened, prancing gray was too great to be cautious. She threw herself into Soren’s outstretched arms. Even his strength couldn’t withstand the force of the destrier’s dance and her leap. Soren fell back from the gray with quick grace to avoid its hooves. He caught her and protected her in a controlled slide that carried them several feet away from the path on a tangle of weeds.
Once again, they were touching.
And even the white wolf’s howl far in the distance didn’t stop her from feeling the strength of Soren’s arms and his body heat beneath her.
The scent of crushed greenery rose around them, but it was Soren’s scent that filled her senses—evergreen boughs and fallen leaves, both woodsy and fresh. Her red wolf had always carried the scent of the Carpathian forest in his fur. On Soren’s masculine skin, the scent was more seductive and sweet. She’d thought fifty miles apart would be too close. Now she was pressed against him with nothing but clothes separating them. The hoofbeats had faded into the distance and the forest had fallen into a hush around them. Her heartbeat was so loud in her ears she was afraid it would become audible to the man beneath her.
“I’m still going to destroy the sword. After we get Lev back to the castle.” Soren finally spoke to break the stillness.
“If you don’t, I will,” Anna agreed.
The only way to protect herself from the insane urge to get as close to Soren as possible was to end the reason for them to be together. The sooner they destroyed the sword, the better.
Soren rejected her with his words, but he was also searching her face. His eyes tracked from her tousled hair down to where she’d caught her lower lip by the edge of her teeth. She wasn’t the only one fighting their connection.
The white wolf was coming.
She was a witch and she was with his brother. No matter how sava
ge Lev had become he wouldn’t ignore the threat of Volkhvy in Romanov territory. Some conditioning to be a champion was worked into his flesh and bones. And his hatred of witches had been forged in him through a devastating loss that obviously drove him to the brink of madness.
But the sudden ululating cries of a feral enchanted wolf seemed a more distant concern than the man who held her. Soren shook. She had grabbed his shoulders as they fell. She didn’t have the luxury of gauging their width, but the tension in his muscles was so extreme that his body trembled.
She looked up from her hands to his face.
And then she began to tremble, too.
Soren Romanov’s gaze was no longer tracking over her face. Instead, he stared at her lips. The intensity of his focus carried the weight of a physical touch. Her mouth tingled and it was his pure Romanov magnetism, not her power. His hands tightened on the curve of her back. Only his fingers. He didn’t pull her closer with his arms. He only held her tightly with his hands, as if it was instinctive and not a conscious choice. In the pit of her stomach, a hot coil wound tighter and tighter until, if it didn’t ease, she thought she would faint.
Had he raised his face closer to hers?
Gravity pressed her splayed body against his broad chest. Her breasts were flattened so that their heartbeats pounded against each other. But she was certain that his lips were nearer to hers than they had been before.
Anna tried not to breathe. She didn’t want him to see her pant, and there was no way she could achieve regular respiration with their mouths almost touching. Crazily, she realized Soren was holding his breath, too. She searched his face as if she could quickly tell what might happen in the next second, or the next.
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