Dark Wolf

by Angelique Armae

  Her mind started to drift.

  Counting to ten, Miranda allowed all tension to lift from her muscles.

  The fleeting image of her standing in a bright, sterile room, running her fingers over the body of an injured dog…maybe a wolf…flickered through her mind. The animal, bloodied and gasping for air, pleaded with its eyes. She took the look as a warning, knew it to be a message that danger was heading her way. She concentrated and tried to force the memory to reveal more.

  In an instant, her vision clouded with darkness, the small bit of memory fading back to the recesses of her mind.

  She opened her eyes and huffed.

  On her own, she would never be able to break free from Jarle. She probably could fight him, wound him, maybe even weaken his magjck a bit. But in the end, the Viking witch would win out. She couldn’t control her powers and she’d have to do so in order to defeat the likes of her vile captor. Jarle’s magickal abilities were so far beyond that of an ordinary witch’s, they probably weren’t even measurable.

  Callen MacHendrie was her only hope. At least he seemed to be as he sounded like he knew an awful lot about Jarle and how the ancient Viking operated.

  But how could she expect the man to help her after she tried to steal his most prized possession? That damn sword seemed to mean the world to Callen. It didn’t matter that he had offered his aid in trying to free her from Jarle. Taking his help would be wrong.

  Guilt seeped into her bones and she only had herself to blame.

  Thoughts of the sword filled her head.

  Callen’s fondness for the weapon went beyond a typical penchant for collecting ancient weapons. The man acted as if he’d die for the sword, like it was his best friend, or some supernatural extension of himself. Investigating the matter further was a must.

  Leaning back, she toyed with the tasseled edge of one of the yellow pillows propped on the bed. So much for her imagined four-poster draped in velvet. This room was totally modern, from its plain, painted yellow walls, to its super-thin flat screen television. Not a single hint of medieval anything, anywhere.

  Maybe Callen wasn’t the man of her dreams. Just because he was handsome, rugged, sexy, and kissed like no dude should ever have the right to, didn’t mean he was her perfect match. In fact, now that she thought about, she didn’t like that he’d taken advantage of her.

  Her mind wandered back to the kiss she’d shared with Cal in the storage room.

  Well, maybe she liked it a bit.

  Possibly even more than a bit.

  Oh, who was she kidding? She thoroughly enjoyed the lip smacking. Even wished it would happen again. Callen MacHendrie was the hottest guy she’d met in the last two years. The thought gave her pause. Technically, since she had almost no memory of her life prior to Jarle, Cal was the hottest guy she’d ever met. Even if he did have an out-of-the-ordinary attachment to wolves. At least it wasn’t alligators or snakes. Wolves she could live with, reptiles, definitely not.

  And talk about wielding magick. The way he had commanded that sword to fly off the ground was more than incredible. She could never even hope to achieve supernatural talent on such a high level. Cal was the genuine thing. And he seemed like a nice guy to boot.

  If she learned anything over the last two years, it was that her ability to judge people was rarely wrong. Of course Jarle was her one mistake. Not that she didn’t think him vile and disgusting, but she never saw him as having been a liar when it came to telling her the details of the night he’d found her. Now she was starting to believe otherwise.

  A knock sounded at the door.

  She turned her head. “Come.” Her gaze remained fixed on the room’s entrance.

  The door opened, revealed Callen standing in the hall, a silver tray in his arms. “Am I disturbing you?”

  She shook her head. “Not at all. I was just laying here trying to decide what to watch on television.” Admitting she was thinking about his magickal abilities and the way he’d kissed her didn’t seem appropriate.

  “I’ve brought dinner,” Cal said, entering the room. His cane dangled from his wrist. “Nothing fancy. Just sandwiches, salad and a house wine. Cook also added a berry custard. Of course, if you’d like something different, I can go back to the kitchen.”

  “Sandwiches are fine.” She rose from the bed and went over to the table in the corner of the room and plucked her tote bag off the top and placed it on the floor.

  Cal set the food down, then balanced his cane against the wall. “My uncle’s brother-in-law, Vidar, arrived a short while ago, delaying dinner. I hope you didn’t mind waiting.”

  “Not a bit. Besides, you’ve already done so much for me, I would have been glad even if I didn’t get fed tonight.”

  A soft chuckle escaped him. “Trust me, going without food is not something that is tolerated at Wolfsden.”

  A slight rumble shook the castle.

  “I think your home agrees with you,” she said.

  “About that.” Callen gave her a strange stare. “Don’t let the quakes and rumbles frighten you. Wolfsden is…well…let’s just say it’s not your typical castle. But it is fierce in its protection of my family and those associated with the clan. You’ll come to no harm here, Miranda. I promise you that.”

  In an odd way, she believed the man. She also didn’t fear the castle, as strange as that was to her, but being at Wolfsden was the most stability she’d experienced over the last two years. Even with all the castle’s quirks. And with Callen’s.

  He walked around to her side of the table, but left his cane against the wall.

  Miranda eyed Cal’s leg. “Your limp seems a little less pronounced. Is your leg feeling any better? I really didn’t mean to knee you in the thigh. It was a gut reaction.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I probably would have done the same if the roles were reversed. And yes, for some unknown reason, it’s feeling a lot better than it has in ages. Your kneeing me didn’t do any damage.” He pulled out the chair for her.

  “Maybe there is hope for you yet,” Miranda said.

  “Hope?”

  “On becoming date material.”

  “Oh. Right.” He gave a slight grin. “I know we just met, Miranda. But believe me when I say I’m attracted to you.”

  “Love at first sight, ha?”

  “It’s a bit more complicated than that.” He sat down in the chair across from her and shook out a cloth napkin before placing it over his lap.

  She could get used to a man like Callen MacHendrie. “I think you were right about Jarle lying to me.”

  “Do you remember more from the night he said he found you?” Cal reached for a ham sandwich and placed it on his plate.

  “I’m not sure. I tried to think back, but I only get flickering images. At least nothing I can really verify. I vaguely remember helping an animal, once. Possibly a dog or wolf. But I can’t say for sure. And I do remember a few earlier memories, things from my childhood, like being a little girl and playing with herbs. Mixing leaves with a mortar and pestle. Nothing related to Jarle.”

  Callen reached across the table and poured Miranda a glass of wine from the bottle he’d brought with the food. “Vidar will have his men look into the matter. I gave him whatever information you told me and he’ll see if his guys can dig up clues to your true identity.”

  “Do you think they can do that with Jarle being in the way? He moves around a lot, never stays in one town for long. And when he leaves he destroys all traces of him having been in that place.”

  He laughed. “Trust me, Vidar’s goons are good.”

  She prayed Callen was right. If not, she’d eventually have to go back to Jarle and if she returned without the sword she’d come to Dundaire to steal, she’d be going home to her grave.

  ~~~~~~~

  Callen watched Miranda eat. The way she broke off a small piece of sandwich and brought it to her mouth, the way she toyed with the stemmed wine glass. Everything his mate did, he found interesting. And ye
t they were basest things a person could do. Miranda was right, he was verra screwed.

  He reached for his wine and raised it to his lips.

  “You said you are the oldest of your father’s children. How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  He put down his glass. “Five blood brothers, plus Rhys. No sisters.”

  “Are you close to them?”

  “Verra. They all live on the grounds of Wolfsden, but in their own homes.”

  “And your father?”

  “He lives here at the main castle, but is in New Orleans at the moment.”

  “I can’t imagine anyone wanting to leave this place. It’s so beautiful and serene. I can actually hear myself think up here, unlike in the city. You must really enjoy it.”

  He took a moment to answer, not sure how to explain that the castle belonged to the pack’s Alpha and when his father was in residence, so too were a horde of rowdy wolves. Most nights, getting more than an hour of sound sleep was near impossible. “When it’s quiet, like now, yes.”

  Miranda toyed with the edge of the napkin next to her plate. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you injure your leg?”

  Crap. Telling his mate a lie would not be right. But telling her the whole truth, without her prepared to accept his world, would do just as much harm. He had to find a balance between the two. “Jarle used my sword against me in a fight. After he sliced my leg with it, he cursed the blade. It’s why I keep the weapon hidden as a cane, so its hex doesn’t escape and harm anyone else.”

  Miranda’s eyes flashed neon blue again. “Dude, that is so cruel. I’ll kill him for that.”

  He laughed. “You’ve only known me a day and yet you’re willing to go to war with a powerful witch to avenge what he did to me and you think I’m nuts for calling you my mate so soon?”

  “Okay. So maybe I kinda think you’re cute. But any woman would, you’re a good-looking guy. It doesn’t mean I’m ready to hop in bed with you. And certainly not marry you.”

  His lips curled upward. “I was not the one who mentioned marriage…yet.”

  “You said I am your mate, that’s the same thing.”

  “I see I am going to have to learn quite a bit in order to figure out this courting you business, Miss Kendrick.”

  She quirked an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you came from a different time. Your choice of words isn’t always common.”

  He wasn’t going to bring up his age before he was certain she could accept him as wolf. “I think we’ve talked enough about me tonight. Let’s change the subject. How was your dinner? Do you need me to get anything more?”

  Miranda pushed her plate away. “No. Thank you. That sandwich hit the spot, even the salad was good.” She wiped her hands on the napkin and then placed it back on the table.

  “You still have to eat Cook’s berry custard.” Callen nudged a small crock off the tray.

  “I couldn’t.”

  She certainly didn’t eat like a wolf. And if Miranda Kendrick was ever going to fit in at Wolfsden Keep, Callen was going to have to change her eating habits. “At least have a taste.” He grabbed a spoon and scooped out the custard along with two blueberries from the top of the dish. Reaching across the table, he fed Miranda the dessert.

  She moaned. A second later she smiled. “That is the most delicious custard I have ever tasted. I’ll take the rest of it.”

  Callen laughed as he slid the crock to her side of the table. “It’s addictive, I know. We keep it as a staple here at the castle as my dad really likes it and has fits if it’s not available.”

  “It must be nice having a family.” Sadness veiled Miranda’s eyes.

  He wanted to reach out, tell her she now had him, his brothers, his dad, the whole MacHendrie pack. But he’d already seemed desperate and didna want to push his luck. “Do you remember anything about your parents or possible siblings?”

  “Nothing. The few memories I have of me being a child are of me alone. But I am mixing herbs in the visions, so someone had to have taught me what to do.”

  Miranda could have come from mixed lineage—one parent a wolf, the other a witch. His own mother had vampiric blood and was only half wolf. She was also a Celtic goddess. Mixing of breeds was common among some packs. “Other than what you’ve already told me, what else do you do for Jarle?”

  “Most days I practice my spell casting. The rest of the time I tend to the coven’s herbs, oils and ointments. I also, on occasion, work directly with the Viking…” She paused and started twirling the spoon in the custard dish. “I’m not proud of what I do, but I don’t have a choice.”

  He reached for her hand. “What does the bastard make you do?”

  “Aside from helping bind hearts of the living to Jarle, I also oversee the binding of souls that are owned by him in the Ever After. There’s a ritual he has me perform, strengthening the tether between him and the souls he controls. It’s basically binding a dead person’s still heart.”

  “I wasn’t aware he had the power to do such a thing. Or that he could pass that power on to you.”

  “He didn’t pass anything on to me. My abilities were just…there. Somehow Jarle realized it and then forced me to use my gifts to do his dirty work.”

  “That’s a horrible thing to do to a person.”

  She nodded. “I know. But I try, every chance I get, to weaken the spells if Jarle isn’t in the room or isn’t watching me. I do it because I hope that some of those souls can break free of him. If he ever knew, he’d kill me.”

  Under his watch, Miranda Kendrick was not going to have to worry about that bastard Viking. “Jarle canna touch you on my father’s property. You’re welcome to stay for as long as you like.”

  “He’ll come for me if I don’t go back.”

  “He’ll have to face an army of…” He paused. Keeping his wolf secret was becoming increasingly difficult. “My father has good security. Trust me.”

  Miranda pulled her hand away from his. “But can any of them best Jarle’s spell casting?”

  “Believe me, my family has many witches among them. As a whole, we’ll protect you.”

  She offered him a slight smile, but nothing enough to convince him that she believed his words.

  And that pained him more than anything.

  Chapter Six

  Cal left shortly after dinner, Rhys calling him to say Vidar had already received information from his men and that one of his couriers would be arriving at Wolfsden shortly. The progress should have made Miranda feel better, but instead she was in bed, tossing and turning, and unable to sleep.

  Visions of Jarle filled her head.

  On the nightstand, her cellphone buzzed.

  She reached over and grabbed it, the smooth rubber casing cool against her skin.

  Jarle’s number appeared in black on the small lit-up screen in the center of the phone’s front cover.

  She wasn’t supposed to check in tonight. What the heck was she going to tell the witch? He got violent when he didn’t get the answers he wanted.

  She flipped the phone open. “Hello?”

  “You didn’t call.”

  “It’s not yet Wednesday.”

  “Did you get the sword?”

  She hesitated.

  “Miranda?”

  “I’ve only been here a day.”

  Jarle’s heavy breath filtered over the phone. “A good thief would have had it in minutes. Did you fuck up on your own or is your failure the result of someone else’s interference?”

  “MacHendrie hasn’t started cataloguing any weapons yet. The moment he does, I’ll have access to all the swords in the castle. He’s assured me of it. Besides, I don’t want to rush things and risk making the man suspicious. You said I had a week.”

  Silence greeted her excuse. If Jarle didn’t believe the lie, she was screwed. She didn’t have a plan B.

  “You need more protection. I’m increasing the charge to your locket.”

  A s
tabbing pain sliced through her heart. The witch was going to choke the life out of her. “What makes you think I’m in danger?”

  “You should be appreciative of my concern, slave. I’ve invested a lot in your horrible excuse of a life and I want to keep what is mine safe. Is that clear?”

  “Of course. But I’ve been very careful to stick with our ruse. MacHendrie doesn’t suspect a thing and there hasn’t been anyone here that I’d perceive as a threat against me. I don’t see the need for increased protection.”

  Jarle growled. The reverberating noise vibrated against her ear. “I’ve been informed by my men that someone has been delving into your past and I don’t want your secrets getting out. Do you?”

  She was starting to think she didn’t have secrets, but letting Jarle in on that little tidbit wouldn’t do her any good. Keeping a calm demeanor was best, though she’d really like to give the bastard a piece of her mind right about now. “Of course not.” It was all she could think to say.

  “What are you hiding from me, Miranda?”

  Panic struck her nerves. “Nothing.”

  “If you don’t bring me the sword, not only will you die, but Callen MacHendrie will suffer a loss so great, it will be unlike any pain he’s endured over the last thousand years.”

  Thousand years? Cal? Impossible.

  “Are you still there, slave?”

  “Yes, Jarle.”

  “I’m adding to your assignment.”

  The Viking witch never veered off his original course when it came to stealing what he wanted. Miranda wondered what heck the guy was up to. “Go on.”

  “Besides the sword, there is a locket. It looks similar to yours, but is much older and contains a ruby at the latch. It belonged to the woman I loved. Bring it along with the blade.”

  She couldn’t imagine Jarle ever loving anyone. “And what do I get in return?”

  “I’ll terminate our agreement. You’ll be free.”

  “But you already agreed to that in exchange for the sword. I want extra payment if I have to also bring you the locket.”