by Jan Delima
It rocked her over that shining edge. She unraveled around him, a woman without inhibition, taking freely of her pleasure. It moved him more than he liked. He swallowed her scream by claiming her mouth while her release pumped him with contracting waves.
His cock tightened beyond the point of readiness, threatening nausea if he dared prolong its release now that she’d found hers. Moved by an instinct older than the creation of his kind, he flipped her over and onto her back, bending her legs as he fell on top of her. The damn cushions gave under his weight when he tried to thrust.
Gripping her ass to halt any resistance, he rode her hard. Harder than he should have but she responded by arching upward to meet his thrusts. Anguished sounds came from his throat. Seized by a tight throb of pleasure-pain, and too gone to care before falling over that sharp threshold of release. He lost reality, became weak to the demand of completion as wave after wave pumped his seed into her core.
After, he collapsed with his face buried in her hair. He thought she may have found pleasure again; he wasn’t sure, but the possibility gratified him. “Did I hurt you?”
A soft laugh next to his ear. “No.”
If he stayed inside her and rode her again, would it still count as the once? Better not push his advantage this soon, he decided and forced himself to rise, easing out. The cold air on his wet flesh was unwelcomed.
Resting on his elbows to lessen his weight, he watched his new wife. Golden curls tangled about her face, flowing over the arm of the sofa and onto the floor. Her eyes fluttered open, deep blue and satisfied, normal—human. A soft smile curved her lips.
She was a woman awakened.
And too exquisite for words, he thought as guilt drove like a spike through his heart. Now that his seed was spent, another face swam before his mind’s eye. Only this one was dark and not pale, warm, not cool—and produced instant, futile regret.
Koko . . .
Rosa stiffened, lost her pliancy. Her smile faded, and then dissolved completely, as if sensing his sudden emotional distance. Blue eyes bled to violet. Not to the full burgundy of her wolf; hurt but not afraid. “You’re thinking of her, aren’t you? Your first wife.”
The question caught him by surprise. His private life had been kept just that . . . off-limits to anyone but family. Apparently, the time she’d spent with his sister had also included learning about him. The notion didn’t sit well. “No.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You’re lying.”
While justified, he was in no mood to address her disapproval. “My past is none of your concern.”
A practiced actress, her mask of indifference appeared like a plastic veil. “Of course it’s not. And now that we are done with this sordid business, I won’t be tempted to breach your privacy again.”
It had been a while since he’d had to dance around a woman’s mind-set. They were complex creatures. Evidently, he’d insulted this one. “Rosa—”
“No, I don’t need false sentiments.” She pushed at his chest. “But I do want you to get off of me.”
With a sigh, he leaned enough for her to roll out from under him and land in an unceremonious dump on the floor.
She remained on all fours for only a second. Like the wolven queen she was, she rose before him naked and proud. “Does this place have a bathroom?”
Luc nodded toward the door. “I’m going for a run and may not be here when you get out.” He needed to placate a very angry inner wolf who wanted to follow Rosa and show her how to work the shower. He also needed to run alone because it was a promise he had given to Koko. “Try to rest, if you can. We’ll be leaving in a couple of hours.”
“You can regret that I’m not your first wife while you’re gone.” She scooped up her fallen clothes on the way to the bathroom. “But don’t punish yourself too much, because unless you deceived me earlier like you did just now, this will not be happening again.”
Her parting words before she closed the door, echoed by a slash of sinew from bone so brutal he limped to the front door before his wolf took full form.
* * *
Gravel dinged the bottom of Gareth’s truck as Rosa spun away from the lake house. Headlights guided her over a pitted dirt road that meandered through dense-growing trees. Night had fallen to full darkness when Luc had finally returned in human form, dressed and armed for a shifter war.
He reclined in the seat beside her, smelling like forest, contentment and too much vitality for one man to possess. Gripping the steering wheel, she had the distinct urge to kick him in soft places but pressed down on the pedal instead. If her tolerance didn’t deserve an award, then she didn’t know what did.
“The road curves up ahead,” Luc said in a lazy tone. “You might want to slow down.”
Easing off the pedal, Rosa silently berated herself. To show emotion meant she cared, and she must never give any man that power, especially not the first one to give her pleasure.
Oh, but the memory of it. Even now she felt a quickening in her belly. In many ways she wished he hadn’t shown her, wished he’d been more callous—or, at the very least, less adequate.
Her anger was petty, she knew, but when his thoughts had turned to his first wife it had exposed their encounter for the sordid affair it was. Although he had denied it, his guilt had been too raw, too . . . intimate. She’d been spurned by Math after every session but never by someone whose company she craved.
For recompense, she’d taken an obnoxiously long shower. Hot water was a luxury at Castell Avon. The generators supplied a limited amount but that had been reserved for Math and his lovers. After Luc had left for his run, she’d taken hedonistic advantage, staying under the cleansing stream until her skin pickled.
“Stop the truck!” Luc ordered, jarring her away from ridiculous musings.
A shadow moved awkwardly in the middle of the road and she slammed her foot on the brake; the back end of the truck glided off traction, she turned the wheel to correct while skidding to a halt. Headlights cast the figure in stark light and harsh shadows. He lifted his arm to shield his eyes.
“Do you know this man?” Her heart slammed against her chest but she stopped in time.
“I do.” Luc flung open his door.
“Why is he walking like Frankenstein’s monster?” Like a man-child who struggled for balance on unused legs.
“He was falling on his ass yesterday. I think he’s doing pretty damn good, considering . . .” Luc jumped from the cab in a smooth leap on gravel, leaving the door ajar.
“Considering what?” Rosa followed him, turning off the ignition but hitting the switch to keep the lights on. Her steps faltered as she neared the stranger, in part due to the hatred that greeted her in his cerulean blue gaze, but more because she’d seen its female counterpart. “You’re Cormack,” she guessed. “Siân’s brother.”
“And Taran’s brother as well,” Luc added, his scorn unnecessary. She felt its weight as heavily as they did, if not more. “Both his sisters were killed by Math last week, so I’ll ask you to give Cormack some allowance.”
“I thought he was a Bleidd,” she blurted before understanding dawned. The man walked on unsure legs because he was learning how to be human after centuries trapped in wolf form.
Luc stiffened but didn’t deny it.
She stepped closer, too curious not to explore this anomaly. A familiar scent cloyed her nostrils, of death and decay, and of Iwan—the Guardian rumored to have lost his power to Elen’s hand. “He smells like a Guardian.”
Cormack bared his teeth, behavior of a wolf in human skin.
“Sweet Mother,” she inhaled a reverent breath, arriving at a startling conclusion. “Is this the work of your sister?” Luc’s continued silence was her answer. “I heard what took place here last week.” Again, no response. “When Math’s guards returned with Sophie, they claimed Elen consumed Iwan’s power.” Her voice
dropped with awe. “Elen gave it to Cormack, didn’t she? She took a Guardian’s ability to shift and gave it to another.”
“My sister is suffering from this.” The threat in his voice was a stark reminder of who held his true loyalty. “I’ll consider anyone who speaks of her involvement an adversary.”
“Our enemies are the same,” she reminded him. “If Iwan is gone, it will give someone who is very dear to me peace from his torment.”
After a moment Luc said, “The Guardian you speak of, this Iwan . . . he killed Sophie’s mother and wanted Joshua’s death as well. He is dead.”
“Did he suffer?”
A pause. “The separation of man and wolf didn’t go well.”
“Guardians have already begun to fear Elen. If they knew the full extent of her abilities—”
“They must never know, unless my sister wishes them to.”
A garbled noise erupted from Cormack, a growl perhaps, or a curse to draw their attention. He took a wobbly step forward. His sharp gaze didn’t match his disjointed movements, filled with malice directed solely at Rosa.
She lifted her chin, unwilling to accept blame where none was due. “Your sister came to Castell Avon last week requesting sanctuary because Dylan banished her. I don’t know what Siân did to earn such a sentence from your leader; nor do I care. I refused her twice. She came a third time and found Math . . .” She let her voice trail off because Siân’s fate need not be shared aloud. Math tortured her for information, only to end the sessions after she spoke of Elen’s gift. “I couldn’t help her without putting others in danger, but I’m sorry for what happened to her. And to Taran as well.”
Rosa assumed the second sister had died in the battle, not by Math’s hand but by his order—one of many shames that blackened her dead husband’s soul. If divine justice did indeed exist, then he would return to this world as a cockroach, forced to scurry from light into dank walls.
Cormack beat his hand against his chest, then against Luc’s, made another strangled sound, and then stamped his foot. She noticed his feet were bare. The man wore loose pants with an elastic waist. His gyrated movements exposed hip bones and a trail of hair that thickened each time he stamped his foot and the waistband fell a bit lower. Obviously, he was natural under that one item of modern clothing. Did he not even know how to dress?
Luc frowned with concern. “Are you sure?”
“Sure about what?” Her question went ignored.
Nodding, Cormack growled a low gurgle of half wolf and half human.
Luc gave a heavy sigh. “Have you gone to Elen yet?”
Cormack shook his head, too violent not to relate his vehemence, even without words.
“She misses you,” Luc pressed.
An anguished sound fell from his mouth. Cormack lifted his hands in a helpless gesture.
“Then go to her as a wolf.”
A growl this time, heavy with self-disgust. His gaze was that of a beggar, pleading for something he wanted but couldn’t have.
“I understand,” Luc said, not overly pleased.
Excluded from the odd conversation, Rosa assessed both men. The light washed out Cormack’s coloring, but thick hair curled at his nape, hinting of brown dusted with red. He had a fair amount of hair on his chest as well. There was no fat on his body, just muscle and hard angles from centuries confined as a wolf.
Luc stood a few inches taller and broader. He wore dark pants with side pockets and a cotton shirt, but she remembered him all too well unclothed. In comparison, his torso was larger and more defined. Having moved as both man and wolf, his muscles were dually honed.
Thankfully immune to her thoughts, Luc gave a sharp nod. “Come with us, if you wish, but I’ll have the wolf who can fight.” He waved his hand toward Cormack. “You are of no use to me like this. Not yet, at least.”
Rosa blinked in surprise. “You’re not serious?”
“I am.” His tone warned her not to argue. “I was Cormack once. I can help him.”
“Shouldn’t we gain control of Castell Avon first? He can come to us afterward.”
“As a wolf, Cormack is a worthy warrior,” he informed her. “He’s welcome to stand by my side in any fight. As a brother who lost his entire family to Math, he has the right to be in this one.”
“Fine,” she said with a shrug. Rosa reserved her arguments for respective causes. But the satisfied smile that turned Cormack’s lips warranted a stern warning. “I feel your need for vengeance. I even understand it. If you want to join us, then do so, but if you harm anyone in my home who does not deserve your wrath, then I’ll kill you myself.”
Holding his hand up to stop Cormack from stepping closer, Luc gave her a curious look. “I’ll advise you not to make threats unless you have the skill to follow through.”
“And what makes you think I don’t?”
Nine
As midnight fell to the waking hours, the sky lost its sapphire hue, giving way to the iridescent shimmer of a new day. This was the usual time of day Rosa drove, when the roads were clear, the drunkards had found their beds, and police officers were back at their stations after a long night enforcing their human laws.
She’d been allowed out of Avon so rarely, and interactions with mortals had been forbidden by Math. Early mornings were the safest to travel unnoticed. More so, she admitted, with Luc by her side and Cormack lurking over her shoulder. Luc had ordered the man to shift before entering the truck. In wolf form he was intimidating, to be sure, with more than two hundred pounds of angry beast on a mission of retribution.
“Take a right at the next turn,” Luc said.
The Salmon Mountain marker was a welcomed sign, the small rest area chosen well for their rendezvous. It was far from any major roads, with only a small section of lawn surrounded by a dense forest, and darkened by broken lights. As she pulled into the paved lot, figures began to emerge from parked cars. Luc’s guards followed in separate vehicles, parking off to the side and on newly mowed grass.
Scanning the line of trees, Rosa counted thirty or so shadowed silhouettes and a dozen wolves, guards and warriors who had followed their leaders to help with her campaign. She sensed more in the woods who chose to remain unseen. Anticipation tightened her spine. She tasted success in the air, or at least the potential, and that was more potent than fear.
A petite woman sat on a nearby picnic table with her legs dangling over the edge. Isabeau, she assumed, the leader of the Minnesota territory, since her guards formed a wide but protective circle around her. Isabeau had been the only child born to her family with the ability to shift; the others had been killed in the house of Rhun, an Original Guardian.
Regrettably, Rhun had been Math’s partner in all things but flesh. Both, thanks to Dylan and Sophie, were now dead. It was no wonder Isabeau fought on the rebels’ side of this secret war.
The second leader to join this gathering stepped from his car and approached Isabeau. Rosa had met Daran briefly in her youth; he’d once purchased weapons and other wares from her parents. He now resided in Canada, where his territory encompassed much of Ontario and the surrounding woodlands.
Turning off the engine, Rosa opened the door and jumped to the pavement, hitting the latch under her seat. It lifted to reveal her sword wrapped in cloth, kept hidden for too long.
Luc quietly watched her movements. “You said you came unarmed.”
“I held no weapon at the time I told you that.” She met his guarded glare with one of her own. “Now I do.”
“Your threat earlier, to Cormack . . . Can you use that sword? Or was it just a ruse as well? Don’t lie to me,” he warned. “Not on this matter. I’ll know your skill now and be prepared to defend, or assist, whatever the case may be.”
His concern was a valid one; therefore she answered in kind. “Before the Guardians came for me, my parents were . . .” Neurotic. Dili
gent. Obsessive. “. . . adamant with my training. I’m unpracticed, but I have full confidence my skills will return.”
Immortality for our kind is a curse. Her mother’s words, repeated throughout her childhood. Rosa had been loved, gratefully so, but her younger years had been ruled by strict parents bent on her survival. They’d moved to the country by then, to live among farmers. While human children climbed trees, fished in rivers, and chased one another around pretty fields, Rosa had trained.
But there are ways around our inhuman longevity, her mother would say. No creature who walks this earth is infallible. You must be strong, Rosa. Not even Guardians can survive without two vital organs. Always go for their head first, and then their heart.
In dark moments on loathsome nights, when the lock turned on her bedroom door, she would recall her mother’s words and plan for this day. Math had several guillotines constructed for Avon’s dungeon, but they weren’t as portable as swords.
Unaware of her deadly musings, Luc waited for Cormack to leap out, and then shut the door. He walked around the truck and held out his hand. “May I?”
She lent a possessive shake of her head. “My cousin Cadan gave this to me. It was a gift to him from my mother. It’s the only thing I have of hers.”
“Cadan is your aunt Neira’s son,” Luc said.
Apparently the Guardians weren’t the only ones keeping records. “Our mothers were sisters.” One was intemperate and evil, the other stern but kind. Their stark differences had always puzzled her.
“Is Cadan at Avon now?”
She didn’t care for his tone. “Yes, but my cousin isn’t loyal to the Guardians. Without his help, I wouldn’t have been able to leave. You will be kind to him.”
Luc’s eyebrows rose at the order. “Why wouldn’t I be, if he’s our supporter, as you say?”
She pondered over how much to reveal, but decided to prepare him. “You should know that he was Math’s lover. They were together when Dylan claimed his revenge.”