The Wolf Next Door

by Lydia Dare

  Alice shook her head. “I’m certain we’ll know in due time. Besides, when a man is that angry, it’s best to stay out of his path until he’s had a chance to calm down a bit.”

  Her appetite gone and her stomach tied up in knots, Prisca pushed her untouched torte to the side.

  Elspeth caught her eye from across the table, just as her fiery-haired sister-in-law’s stomach rumbled. “Are ye no’ hungry, Prisca?”

  She gestured to one of the footman to remove her torte. “Please give this to Lady Elspeth.”

  The Scottish witch’s green eyes widened in surprise. “I couldna possibly—”

  “Nonsense,” Prisca muttered, glancing over her shoulder toward the doorway the four men had departed through. “I believe your daughter has a craving for lemon tortes. She might as well enjoy mine.”

  “There’s no need to worry, Prisca.” Lily sent her a reassuring smile. “It’s just a full moon. They always behave a bit differently when the moonful is upon us.”

  Prisca refocused on her dinner companions and noticed Elspeth and Alice nodding in agreement. “This is normal?” she asked. “Stalking out of the dining room as a rabid group, without a word to the rest of us?”

  Lily shrugged. “It’s only one night a month, and the benefits far outweigh the detriments, dear. Trust me.”

  Benefits? It was on the tip of her tongue to find out what Lily meant when the young Earl of Maberley rejoined them. Oliver York slumped down into his seat next to his Aunt Lily, his bottom lip jutted out in a pout.

  “Why are you sulking, dear?” the duchess asked her nephew.

  He scowled, focusing on the door. “They wouldn’t let me stay. Which doesn’t make a bit of sense, as I can hear it all anyway.”

  Prisca focused on the boy, her curiosity piqued. “You can hear what they’re saying?” she whispered.

  Oliver nodded. “They’re in an uproar because Major Forster lost Brimsworth.”

  Lost Brimsworth? Prisca hadn’t known the major had the earl to begin with. What else didn’t she know? She glanced around at the identical looks of worry on Alice, Lily, and Elspeth’s faces. “Why did he have Lord Brimsworth?”

  The Westfield women all exchanged glances with each other, which annoyed Prisca to no end. Did everyone know about this except her?

  Oliver winced. “Now I’m in for it.”

  “Oliver,” Lily warned.

  He looked down at his abandoned dessert. “Too late. He already knows I told you. Right now, he’s threatening to take me back to Harrow tomorrow instead of next week.” He paused a moment. “But now he’s back to barking at the major again.”

  “Enough,” his aunt advised softly. “I’d like to keep you the rest of the week. Don’t provoke Simon unnecessarily.”

  Well, if she wasn’t going to get any more information from Oliver, Prisca wasn’t going to remain in the dining hall. Her chair legs scraped along the floor as she rose from her place.

  “Prisca,” Lily began.

  She waved the duchess off. “I have never been afraid of provoking His Grace, unnecessarily or otherwise.” Besides, everyone else seemed to know what was going on. She was a Westfield now, too; they shouldn’t keep things from her.

  Prisca left the rest of her husband’s family in her wake as she started down the corridor toward the duke’s study. Loud bursts of anger could be heard right up to the moment she reached the study door. Then the noise suddenly stopped.

  Blast them! They could hear her approach. It was quite unfair that they could hear everything in the house and were able to eavesdrop on her conversations yet they worked so diligently to keep her from

  learning anything useful at all.

  The door to the study flew open, and the duke and Ben barreled into the corridor. They both glanced briefly at Prisca before stalking past her in the direction she’d come from. She tiptoed the rest of the way and peeked her head inside the study.

  Sitting in one of the duke’s chairs, Major Forster raked a hand through his hair in frustration, while Will, standing sentry at the imposing desk, pinned her with his gaze. “I do wish you wouldn’t try to irritate Simon. It just makes things more difficult for the rest of us.”

  She gulped, suddenly not certain if she would ever get accustomed to Will and the others overhearing every breath she took, every word she uttered. Wasn’t one entitled to a little privacy? Prisca tipped her nose haughtily in the air. “And I wish he wasn’t such a bully. Now are you going to tell me why Major Forster had Lord Brimsworth?”

  The major’s head shot up, and he waited for Will’s reply, right along with Prisca.

  “I told you he was dangerous, Priss. Promise me you won’t go near him.”

  She had no desire to see Brimsworth. It would have been an easy promise to make, but she didn’t appreciate him dictating the fact to her. “You didn’t answer my question, William.”

  He sighed and crossed the room to her side. “It’s going to be a long night, love. I don’t know when I’ll be back. Can we continue this conversation in the morning?”

  He was leaving? But it was the full moon. He was supposed to transform in front of her eyes. He was supposed to claim her this evening, become a part of her. Prisca’s mouth fell open. “But the moon—”

  “Another full moon will come around next month.” He brushed his knuckles across her cheek. “God willing, we’ll have many more after that.”

  “But, Will—” she began as he stepped around her into the doorway.

  “Major Forster has promised to keep an eye on you for me.”

  None of this made any sense at all, and Prisca’s heart began to race with fear. “William! Tell me where you’re going.”

  “To keep you safe,” he replied quietly. Then he touched his lips to her brow.

  Thirty-Six

  Prisca stepped through the garden gate behind The Hall and looked up at the full moon. Evidently, all that Will had told her of the moonful had turned out to be a lie. She should have known.

  At that very moment, instead of claiming her as his Lycan mate, he was off with his brothers, scouring the woods for the Earl of Brimsworth. Truly, what damage could a lone Lycan do? He seemed fairly innocuous, all things considered.

  Now Lily and Elspeth were irritated with her, presumably because she’d cut into their time during the moonful by occupying their husbands, or perhaps because she’d successfully sent His Grace into a snit and everyone had to deal with him.

  And still, she’d yet to find out what it meant to claim one’s mate. But the very thought of Will laying claim to any part of her made a quick shiver dance through her belly. If just thinking about it made her toes tingle, she could just imagine why the other ladies of the house were so put out by her.

  It wasn’t her fault Brimsworth had slipped away from the major. Elspeth’s father stood inside the house and watched her through the window, even now. Will had handed her leading strings right over to the old officer. And he’d begrudgingly accepted them.

  He’d growled and snapped and snarled at everyone who came near him, ever since he’d returned from his trip with the unfortunate news about Brimsworth’s disappearance. As the moon rose in the sky, it got even worse. Lily and Elspeth had retired to their rooms, and he’d growled almost continually. The only one who seemed to calm him was Alice. When Alice came into the room, the major hovered over her like a hummingbird over a blooming flower.

  Alice did nothing more than touch the side of the man’s face, and Prisca could almost see the tension leave his body. But the hungry look never left his eyes. He looked at Alice like she was the counter-measure to every ounce of pent-up energy within him. And she responded with coy looks over her shoulder that made the man growl. Evidently, passion didn’t fade with age.

  Finally, the major had pulled Alice down into his lap, and Prisca had fled the sitting room. She’d wandered the halls until the light of the full moon caught her attention and she’d sought sanctuary in the garden.

  For years,
Will had come to her on the night of the full moon. She longed to sink her fingers into his shaggy brown hair and look into his eyes, which would certainly appear as dark as sapphires under the light of the night.

  Prisca glanced up at the full moon and absently fingered the locket she wore around her neck. Of course, now she knew Will and her wolf were one in the same. She loved them equally. But she wasn’t sure if Will was aware she’d put the pieces of the puzzle together. Would he stop coming to her in wolf form now? Her heart squeezed painfully in her chest at the thought of never seeing her wolf again. Would Will try to put her off with every full moon?

  Prisca stood and shook out her skirts, already damp from the dew of the night. She glanced once toward the window where the major had stood. But he was gone. A small smile tipped her lips as she imagined him stalking Alice.

  It was her turn to stalk Will. Prisca stepped into the woods. It was time to seduce her husband.

  ———

  Will lurked in the woods that surrounded Westfield Hall. Unlike his brothers, he’d chosen to stay close to The Hall in case Brimsworth somehow evaded them all.

  He heard a howl in the distance, which he instantly recognized as Simon. Then, from a greater distance, Ben answered. They’d all picked up vague scents of the beast, each trailing off in a different direction. It was as though the wild Lycan had sent them out on a merry chase. Only none of them were feeling very jovial. Simon had nearly taken the major’s head off when he’d returned with the news that Brimsworth was nowhere to be found. Until the old man raised his hackles and stared Simon down. Evidently, even the pack leader paid respect to his elder.

  Will put his nose to the ground, looking for a trail that might indicate the golden wolf stalked the occupants of Westfield Hall. Or, more specifically, one occupant of Westfield Hall. His brothers could take care of themselves. And their wives had already been claimed. Brimsworth would have no desire to take them. Not finding any sign of the earl, Will turned to sweep the grounds again. He ran, enjoying the freedom that came with being in his Lycan form.

  He stopped in his tracks, his claws digging into the soft earth as he stood up straight and tall. Brimsworth’s scent. There it was, dark and dangerous. He’d been here recently, within the last few moments, actually.

  Will searched the ground for tracks, but little could be seen in the mossy earth of the forest floor. He turned, putting his nose back to the ground to follow the scent.

  ———

  “Don’t hurt me,” Prisca whispered to the golden wolf that blocked her path, her words choked by the fear in her chest. Before she could take two steps, the hulking beast knocked her to the ground where he loomed over her.

  Prisca covered her face with her arm, certain the beast who’d knocked her down would take a piece of it at any second. Limned by the light of the full moon, the Earl of Brimsworth was a snarling shadow above her. His lips were raised to show his sharp teeth, and a drop of thick saliva dripped from his mouth onto the bodice of her gown.

  Prisca extended her arms behind her and used her arms and legs to walk backward on her hands, slowly trying to slide from below the feral beast.

  The growl intensified. She stopped moving. Her gaze searched the forest floor, looking for a weapon. A large rock would do. A stick might help. But she had nothing close enough to touch. The only thing within her reach was this golden-haired wild dog who looked ready to devour her. Very little of Brimsworth, or what she knew to be Brimsworth, was present in the wolf. He was completely unlike Will, who carried his human traits into his Lycan body.

  The beast placed his paws upon her body and growled sharply in her ear as he snapped his teeth so forcefully she could feel the breeze the action stirred. He pushed her back, but she refused to lie beneath the creature. He could kill her, but she would die fighting. She lifted a hand to grab a hunk of the animal’s hair.

  But from her right, she heard a menacing growl and her glance swung at the same time as the beast caught the sound as well. Joy flooded her heart while fear encompassed her. William!

  Her gaze swung from beast to beast. They were a study of contradictions. The one atop her was light and feral. The other dark and concentrated.

  She wanted to tell her own wolf to be careful. But he was already advancing upon them. His steps were steady and sure, his actions clear and calculated. She thought she saw worry cloud the gaze of the creature atop her.

  “You should let me up, so he won’t try to kill you,” she told the golden wolf.

  Will’s growl became louder and even more menacing as he came within feet of them. He bared his teeth. He was honestly the most frightening creature she’d ever seen. Yet she felt no fear of him.

  The beast atop her lowered his mouth to where it hovered just over the place where her neck met her shoulder. His teeth scraped her skin. His drool soaked her neck and shoulder. She squeezed her eyes shut tightly. But in that moment, her wolf jumped, catching the terrifying creature unaware.

  His black body slammed into the evil one’s, knocking him from atop her. Prisca immediately scrambled to her feet and stepped back. This would be the perfect time to flee. But she couldn’t leave. She searched the area for a weapon, but all she found were twigs and small rocks.

  With very little apparent thought to his own safety, her one true love and her biggest fear at that moment circled one another, as though taking one another’s measure, deciding who would win before the fight even began.

  The golden wolf sprang first. Prisca gasped and covered her mouth as the black one dodged the lunge and clamped his teeth into the animal’s neck. It was a movement intended to kill, Prisca was sure. She wanted to run forward and save her wolf from the burden of dealing with her threat. He shouldn’t bear the brunt of her folly.

  The feral one jerked and spun, kicking and biting wildly. Her wolf didn’t even cry out as the other nipped his skin in places with his sharp teeth. He simply clung to the animal’s neck and held tightly, as though waiting to see how long it would take before the beast submitted. When he didn’t, Will opened his jaws and clamped down again, digging in even deeper. Blood ran from the wounds at the golden wolf’s neck.

  “Don’t kill him,” she whispered. Prisca’s stomach churned at the site. If this continued, there would be nothing left of Brimsworth, and under the light of day Will would hate himself for ripping the earl from this life. But then, as though called from the darkness of the forest, three other wolves approached slowly and silently, each from a different direction. She recognized Blackmoor, Benjamin, and the major right away. One was larger, his fur black with a streak of white over his ear. The other was brown with shaggy hair and hazel eyes. The third was grey and white and had a wizened look about his face.

  “Don’t let Will kill him, please,” Prisca begged. “He’ll never forgive himself if he does.”

  The largest wolf, with the white stripe over his ear, walked over to the fighting pair and stood above them, his growl menacing and ferocious. Her wolf glanced up at him, as though beseeching him to let them be. To let him kill the feral wolf and deal with the consequences later. But the pack leader just growled again and Will released his hold. Brimsworth slumped to the ground, blood pooling around his body.

  Her wolf approached her, and she took a step back. It was a reflex, nothing more. He looked wounded when she moved away from him. A whimper escaped his throat.

  The pack leader nudged at the golden wolf until he shakily found his feet. Then the leader growled lightly until the rest of his pack followed him, slinking into the forest as if they’d never been there.

  Thirty-Seven

  Will wanted to go to her. But he was afraid to approach. He knew he’d been beastly with the golden wolf, Brimsworth. He’d nearly killed the man. And she’d seen it all. She’d seen him at his worst.

  In truth, had Simon and Ben not arrived when they did, Brimsworth would be lying in a pool of his own blood, his very life source draining from his open wounds. It was one of the only ways
to kill a Lycan, since they could heal themselves. To kill one of his kind, a Lycan had to inflict a sustained wound that would penetrate the flesh, causing the blood to drain from the body. When the body could no longer heal, the Lycan died.

  Will had never seen it happen. But he’d heard the hushed stories at Canis House, the ones whispered about one wolf or another.

  Yet tonight, he’d been there. He’d been the one on the hunt. He’d been the one who wanted to kill. He didn’t know who he should be more disgusted with him—himself or Prisca. He should have had more control, but when he’d seen the beast scrape her delicate skin with his horrid fangs, he’d felt the rage boil within him and finally overflow.

  And she’d watched it all. Every bloody moment. Damn it all to hell. Why had she come into the woods? He’d very clearly told her to stay put.

  The confusion on her face was almost his undoing. If he could have transformed back at that very moment, he would have. He’d never had enough control to shift in and out of Lycan form at will. It could be done, but only through sheer strength of character. That strength was something he’d never possessed.

  She didn’t approach him. She didn’t touch him. She didn’t put her fingers into his hair and stroke him. She didn’t want him.

  He watched her, her eyes wide with what he assumed was trepidation. Maybe disgust. Then he heaved a sigh and turned to follow his pack into the woods. He’d watch to be sure she arrived home safely. But he wouldn’t force her to tolerate his beastly presence any longer than necessary.

  His ears perked up when he heard her voice. “William Westfield,” she shouted. “Don’t you dare walk away from me!”

  His heart nearly pounded from his chest. He turned slowly, not even looking at her at first, afraid to see the expression on her face when he finally caught her gaze. What would he see? Censure? Disgust?

  Very slowly, he looked at her face. She smiled softly at him, and his heart soared.