Wolf in Waiting

by Rebecca Flanders

  I grasped him, I drank of him, I clung to him. He tore his mouth from mine and grasped my hand, holding it tight, thrusting it beneath his shirt and against the hard, tight skin that covered his heart. He whispered against my ear, hot and urgent, “Feel my heartbeat, Victoria. Take my strength. Take me inside you. Take me…”

  And then he was stripping off my clothes, holding me close, holding me helpless. Already the enchantment had begun to overtake me, his strength and my power blending together and holding me enthralled. His hands caressed my human body, his teeth pressed into my human flesh, until the sensory stimulation became too much to bear, the need swelled beyond the capacity for my fragile form to endure. I broke from him, but not away from him. I cried out for him, but the voice was not my own. Already I was caught in the vortex, control was slipping beyond my grasp. Colors and light and whirling sensation like none I had ever imagined had me in their grip and I couldn’t fight it, didn’t want to fight it. The last thing I heard with my human ears was Noel’s voice: “I love you, Victoria! Come to me!”

  I surrendered myself to my nature, and he was waiting for me on the other side.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Noel

  Shall I describe to you the miracle that happened then, the divine sorcery that caught us up, the magic we created between us and let loose upon the world? I think not. Even if I had the words, which I do not, there are certain things that are sacred between werewolves and to speak of them, even in reverence, is both undignified and blasphemous.

  I will tell you this. She was a beautiful wolf. Sleek and jet black with diamond-bright eyes that beckoned me like a siren’s call. Could I stop myself from answering that call, from seizing her and claiming the union that was ours by destiny and had been denied us too long? No more than I could stop the wind from blowing or the sun from setting, no more than I could stop my next breath.

  And this, then, is the magic of the union of two werewolves, the coming together of not just bodies but souls. This is what humans strive for in their own sad way for all of their short shallow lives but can never know. This is what is called love.

  I became Victoria, and she became me. Our thoughts, our experiences, our memories and our essences blended, became so entangled with each other that for a long time after we were separate again, it was difficult to tell what memory belonged to which of us, which feeling was hers and which mine. I knew her loneliness, the hurt and humiliation that had been inflicted upon her by others of our kind and it was a sad and bitter thing, almost more than I could bear. But I also knew the strength that had enabled her to endure, the indomitable spirit that I had so come to admire, her humor, her optimism, her tenderness, her unique view of the world and all that was in it; I knew all of this and I took it inside me.

  She knew my most secret fears, my most private needs, for this was part of the sharing, too. She knew things grand and small about me, thoughts and worries, plots and schemes; she knew motives that were pure and those that were not quite so noble. She knew the truth, all the truth, and in all my life she would be the only one who would ever know. Just as I would take her secrets, and only hers, deep into my heart and cherish them forever.

  You see now why werewolves take the matter of mating so very seriously.

  The moon had long since set before we changed back into our human forms. It was too soon for both of us, but Victoria was young in this way and inexperienced, and there were dangers in staying too long in wolf form the first time. I wrapped her in my leather jacket, for she was too weak to maintain a body temperature high enough to protect her against the elements in human form, and we found a bed of straw and leaves deep in an evergreen tunnel where we lay down together. My own body heat was plentiful, and we were warm in our nakedness as we lay entwined together, stroking each other and murmuring to each other, but mostly just lying silent, wrapped in the essence of each other throughout the short remaining hours of the night.

  As the first soft rays of the sun began to creep into the security of our little cave, she tightened her arms around me and pressed her face into my shoulder. “Daylight,” she murmured. “It feels so strange.”

  I brushed back her tangled hair with my hands, and lifted her face so that I could kiss it. Shall I tell you how beautiful she looked to me, my wild and delicate wolf, my love, my mate, my wife? Or perhaps it goes without saying. Only that my heart swelled with such emotion, simply looking at her, that for a time it was difficult to speak.

  “I thought I would never know this,” I whispered, and I pressed my lips for one intense and rapturous moment against her forehead. “To think, I might never have known this…”

  She stretched her arms around my neck, yearning against me, sleek young muscles curving around mine, molding themselves to me. Satin skin, soft shapes, intoxicating scents…I could have stayed like that forever, just holding her, just touching her.

  She whispered, “I want…”

  I knew what she wanted, my eager young wolf who had only just begun to explore the world that was her legacy. That she would do so with me at her side now and every day for the rest of her life filled me with more delight than I can tell. But this time, regretfully, I silenced her lips with a kiss.

  “It’s too soon,” I told her. “We won’t be able to change again for several more hours. And we have to eat.”

  “I am hungry,” she admitted.

  I chuckled and once more secured the jacket around her shoulders, settling her against my chest and the warmth I could provide. “I was wondering when you would notice.”

  Merely changing from one form to another uses up an astonishing amount of calories, and as for the other activities we had pursued that night…suffice it to say, we were both in deep energy deficit. I myself was ravenous. We would start to grow light-headed if we didn’t eat soon. But I wasn’t quite ready to leave our little honeymoon suite, to bring our private miracle out into the world, even if the only part of the world we need face, at least for the moment, was the driver, who had waited so faithfully with the car throughout the night.

  She whispered, deep in awe, “Noel, I never knew, I never could imagine…there is so much more to this world than I ever perceived with my human senses, so much more to love about you than I could even begin to dream—and, oh, I loved you desperately before! But this…this is so powerful, so inexpressible. Words are such clumsy things, aren’t they? I keep thinking I’m going to trip over them.”

  I laughed softly, hugging her, adoring her. “You make my heart sing,” I told her, and it was enough. She knew the rest.

  But then she looked up at me, a shadow of anxiety deepening her pale wide eyes as she said, “What will become of us now?”

  I smiled at her, absently beginning to comb the leaves and twigs from her hair with my fingers. “I think perhaps the South Pacific,” I said, “for a month or maybe two. Not Fiji, the beaches are far too crowded there. But we have a private island, did you know that? We can run in the dark of the moon or the full light of day, and there is so much I have to teach you, my love, so much you have yet to see. And I’ll be beside you every minute, seeing it all again for the first time through your eyes.”

  She threaded her fingers through my hair, caressing my face. I loved the sensation. She said with gentle indulgence, “And who will be running the empire while we run on the beaches of your private island?”

  I knew what she meant. She knew now the full basis of my fears about Greg Stillman and his connection with Castle St. Clare. No one had access to my mock product description on Moonsong except Sebastian St. Clare himself, who had had to approve every phase of the plan before it was put into action. If Stillman had a copy, the only person who could have given it to him was Sebastian St. Clare.

  That meant either that my suspicions about Sebastian’s intentions to sabotage me on this project were correct, or that our traitor was Sebastian St. Clare himself. Either way, the situation was grave, for both were crimes against the pack for which there was no forg
iveness—and no recourse.

  I said, “First, we confront Stillman.” Ah, how good that felt. We. “He’s half cur as it is, it shouldn’t be too hard to get the truth out of him.”

  “And if the truth is that the plot is deeper than just him? If it goes all the way back to Castle St. Clare?” This was difficult for her to say, to even imagine. She was such a traditionalist. I loved her for it.

  “Then,” I said, “we will confront Sebastian with it honorably, and give him a chance to step down quietly. If he doesn’t…”

  “War,” Victoria whispered.

  I nodded gravely. It was not something I could envision, any more than she could. There had not been a war among our people in remembered history. But if it came…

  “I don’t want to fight, Victoria,” I said. “God knows, it’s the last thing I’ve ever wanted. But for the sake of the pack…for you…for this…” I placed my hand on her abdomen, pressing gently against her womb where even now my seed quickened, and had begun to grow. “For all our children, I will.”

  She looked at me with eyes that shone with hope and adoration, and she corrected softly, “We will.”

  I looked at her, simply looked at her, for a long and silent moment, drawing courage, giving strength. Then I reached up and removed the St. Clare medallion that I wore around my neck, fastening the chain around the neck of my wife, where it now rightfully belonged.

  “We will,” I agreed solemnly.

  We kissed, and we clung to each other for one last long moment.

  Then I helped Victoria to her feet and said, “Come on, let’s dress. We have to get back. I can’t give you the honeymoon you deserve today, but the sooner this matter is dealt with, the sooner we can start our life together.”

  She entwined her fingers with mine and replied simply, “We already have.”

  Simply knowing that gave me the courage to face anything that might lie in store.

  We made the driver stop for breakfast, where we gorged ourselves on high-carbohydrate and protein-rich foods. Yes, Victoria even ate meat. She needed it now that she was eating for two.

  We could have been wiser, I suppose, knowing what lay ahead of us. But in fairness, neither of us expected trouble so soon. We were soporific with fatigue, drunk on each other and the sugar rush of the huge meal; we walked right into a trap we should have smelled a mile away.

  Phillipe met us in the hallway outside his apartment, pacing in an agitated fashion with Victoria’s cat in his arms.

  She cried, “Socrates!” and ran to Phillipe, snatching the creature from his arms in alarm.

  Phillipe poured forth a stream of rapid French that it took my befuddled mind a moment to understand. “Perfectly all right, precious, just frightened to death by those awful men, terrorists, that’s what they are, right, kitty? Simply terrorists! I tried to stop them, but what could I do? They were going to break down your door! Then Socrates ran out and it took me forever to catch him, but I knew you’d never forgive me if I let any harm come to your darling pet. I called the police but did the police care? Oh, no, our noble servants of public—”

  Victoria cried, “What men?”

  And he said, “They’re upstairs now, precious, waiting for you. Actually, I don’t believe it was you they were interested in so much as your friend—”

  “Noel?”

  He nodded eagerly. “It was really all terribly exciting—”

  Victoria cried, “Noel!”

  But I was already bounding up the stairs, propelled by anger and outrage, taking them two at a time and sometimes three. Why, I can’t say. Anyone with even a fraction of reasoning power intact would have been running the other way, which was no doubt what Victoria was trying to tell me when she cried out to stop me. But the thought of anyone’s breaking into Victoria’s apartment and lying in wait for her—or me—infuriated me. Maybe all they had done was frighten her cat, but it was her cat.

  And so I burst into her apartment ready to knock heads together—and was immediately surrounded by six strong werewolves whose scent and stance told me in no uncertain terms from whence they’d come, and that they meant business. Victoria was right behind me, and I drew her quickly into the circle of my arm when she stopped, with a gasp, at the door.

  “What is the meaning of this?” I demanded, but I thought I knew.

  One of them spoke, flatly, politely. “You will come with us, please, sir.”

  “Where?”

  “Just come with us. The female, too.”

  Victoria pressed closer to me, but said nothing. I swept a quick glance around the circle. They didn’t touch me, and kept a polite space between us. If I tried to break away, however, I knew they would close that space in an instant.

  I said, “Castle St. Clare? Is that where you’re taking us?”

  Nothing.

  Victoria said, “We need to bathe and change our clothes. I’m not going to Alaska looking like this.”

  I cast her a quick admiring look. It probably wouldn’t work, but at least it was an inventive shot.

  The spokesperson looked uncertain for a moment, then said, “There are clothes on the plane, miss. And I’m sure you’ll be allowed to use the facilities when we arrive at the castle.”

  So. It was confirmed. I tightened my arm around Victoria. “Are we under arrest?”

  The big werewolf replied, blank-faced, “We are authorized to force cooperation if we have to.”

  Victoria must have felt my tension, because she said smoothly, “That won’t be necessary. We’re anxious to go, as a matter of fact. Just let me tell my neighbor—”

  But as she started to turn toward the door, the circle closed, blocking her exit.

  We couldn’t change, we couldn’t fight, which I suppose was just as well because I am not at all sure what chance even I would have had against the six of them. We had no choice except to meekly allow them to escort us down the stairs and into the waiting car. As we passed the door, Victoria cried out, “Phillipe! Take care of Socrates!”

  And, if you can believe it, the sight of that worried little human’s face, peering out from behind his half-opened door with Victoria’s cat in his arms, haunted me all the way to Alaska.

  They didn’t leave us alone for even a moment, to confer or plot between ourselves. Fortunately, it was not necessary. Our minds were synchronous, our confidence in each other unshakable. The clothes on the plane were mine—as of course they would be, since it was my plane—but at least they were clean. En route, Victoria changed into jeans that were too tight and a sweater that was too big for her, and I traded my soiled and wrinkled clothing for fresh ones. We ate again under the silent scrutiny of the guards, and afterward—so strong were we in our trust of each other, so secure in our purpose—Victoria fell asleep in my arms. While she slept, I tugged the gold chain out of the neck of her sweater so that the medallion was displayed on the outside, lest anyone doubt her new status. It gave me peace just to see it resting there between her breasts, and after a time I, too, closed my eyes and slept.

  Once inside Castle St. Clare, though, Victoria’s nervousness became evident, and I didn’t blame her. It was an intimidating place under the best of circumstances, and few people routinely trod the corridors through which we were escorted—the ones that led to the private living quarters of Madame and Monsieur St. Clare.

  I didn’t like it much myself. Anything could happen to us here in the inner sanctum, and no one need ever know.

  I said quietly, “Don’t be afraid. We know what we have to do.”

  She slipped her hand into mine, and tried to smile. “I know,” she whispered. “It’s just—I’ve never met him before.”

  I squeezed her hand, and I wished I could think of something comforting to say…and was glad to know I didn’t have to.

  They received us in the family sitting room, which disconcerted me. Except for family occasions, even I was never invited here, and I could hardly imagine this was intended to be a social occasion. It was a smal
l—by castle standards, anyway—cozily furnished room, with rugs that were comfortably faded and furniture that bore the marks of pups’ teeth. There was a fire on the grate and Earl Grey in the pot, and I was frankly confused.

  Grand-mère was doing needlework by the fire, which was another thing that surprised me. I hadn’t expected her to be present. Sebastian was reading near the window; he looked up and removed his reading glasses when the guard who had brought us here closed the door behind us. Grand-mère looked up, too, and her face registered surprise—no, astonishment, as she saw the medallion around Victoria’s neck.

  “Noel, what is this?” she asked, standing slowly.

  Sebastian rose, too, and took a step toward Victoria.

  Victoria dropped her eyes before his notice and I could sense her preparing to curtsy. I grabbed her elbow hard and kept her upright. My wife bowed her head before no one.

  “Perhaps you know Victoria St. Clare. My mate.”

  Grand-mère exclaimed softly, “Well.”

  But my eyes were on Sebastian. His only reaction was a slight lift of his eyebrow in acknowledgment.

  I said, “I would have liked to have made the announcement in more congenial circumstances.”

  Sebastian said, “I can’t think why you would imagine these circumstances to be anything less than congenial, my heir.”

  The uncertainty was wearing on my nerves, and I was impatient. “Your thugs broke into Victoria’s house and took us under guard,” I said coldly. “They forced us to come with them against our will. I want to know why.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Sebastian accepted the cup of tea Grand-mère brought. I felt as though I had suddenly wandered onstage during the third act of a play whose plot made no sense to me. Victoria’s hand in mine was my only anchor to reality.

  Sebastian said, “You were brought here because of certain recent unauthorized computer activity in the Montreal office. Perhaps you can explain it.”

  I felt the pounding of Victoria’s heart, sensed the warmth go out of her face as she paled. I opened my mouth to speak but she said, “I can explain it. It was me.”