PRINCE OF WOLVES

by Susan Krinard

  There was no time to hesitate or weigh the possible dangers. He smelled the telltale scents of animal occupation, not recent but strong enough that under other circumstances he might have searched elsewhere for shelter. Now that wasn't possible. Not with Joey half-comatose under his arm, in peril as great as any risk of confrontation with the former owner of the cave.

  The cave was surprisingly warm, sheltered from the rising wind, the snow intruding only a scant few inches under the overhang that protected the entrance. Luke backed in, pulling Joey after him. She was almost limp, he set her down on the carpet of dried needles, old leaves, and gravel that made a bed on the cavern floor and held her against him. He closed his eyes and pressed his face to hers. "Joey! Joelle, do you hear me'"

  His heart thudded heavily in his chest while he waited for her to respond. Her eyelids fluttered, and a faint smile moved across her face. "Luke?"

  He gave silent thanks to the powers of life and caught her face between his hands. Her cheeks were like ice. "You must stay awake, Joelle. I'm going to get you warm again, but you have to help me."

  Her body shuddered, her words broken by the chattering of her teeth. "I'm cold, Luke. Make me warm.

  With a soft oath, Luke held her against his body "I'll help you, Joey. But you must help me, too. Will you try very hard to stay awake for a few minutes?"

  "Okay, Luke," she murmured, eyes unfocused. "I'll try to stay awake. But I'm so cold."

  Luke cursed and laid her back down against the cave wall, struggling out of his sweater. He draped it over her, scant protection that it was, and backed out of the cave. He ran with every ounce of speed he could muster, hauling the two packs over his shoulders, the adrenaline rushing through his body made them feel as light as down. Thudding to his knees at the entrance once again, he dragged the packs in after him, putting his own up to block a large portion of the cave mouth to cut off any intrusion of snow and wind.

  She was still awake, as he'd prayed she would be. Her eyes seemed to be trying to track him, not quite succeeding; with clumsy fingers he battled with the ties and zippers of both packs to free the sleeping bags and the extra blanket he had brought along in case of just such an emergency. He opened her smaller bag and draped it over his shoulders to warm it with his body heat while he stripped his sweater and parka away from her body, moving her unresisting form as if it were a doll's. He spoke to her all the while, a firm, insistent monologue that denied her the chance to give in.

  The wool sweater she wore was almost dry, but the underlayers were damp with perspiration He removed them one by one, shielding her from the cold air that blew in the cave mouth when the wind shifted When he had stripped away the last of her damp clothing, down to the skin, he lifted her in his arms and placed her deep within the cocoon of his unrolled sleeping bag, wrapping it about her tightly and laying her open bag and the blanket over that until he had covered her with as many layers as he could find Only then did he begin to drag off his own dry clothing, pushing his sweater, shirt, and pants back against the rear wall of the cave.

  There was no time to think. No time to consider implications or should-have-beens. His mind was focused on one thing, and his anger at himself fled before necessity.

  Her body was still icy cold when he joined her. There was room enough in his bag, just room enough for the two of them, pressed together spoon fashion. Her nakedness stretched along the length of his body meant nothing in those moments but a terrible vulnerability to be protected and healed at all costs, he wrapped his arms around her tightly, feeling the fading shudders that vibrated against his chest, willing them away with all his heart and mind. He pressed his face into the softness of her hair. His knees filled the hollows behind hers, the swell of her buttocks was soft against the muscle of his belly.

  He knew he spoke nonsense. He kept up the ceaseless oneway conversation, demanding that she stay awake, needing to hear her murmured acknowledgments. When her body began to warm against him, he buried his face in her neck and felt her snuggle closer, pressing back with a sigh, shifting her feet to intertwine with his. Whether there was conscious design in her movement he could not guess, he struggled with his body's reaction and tried to recapture the simple determination to save her. It would not come. Every instinct told him that the danger had passed.

  The stirring of his body was undeniable. He could not risk leaving her yet, though his mind screamed a warning, nor could he pull back from the curves of her body, from the feel of her skin, and the utterly feminine scent that intoxicated him. She would know it soon enough if she didn't already the devastating effect she had on him, that he had been fighting long and hard without success.

  As if to confirm his thoughts, she moved again, this time it seemed almost deliberate. The way the delicious curve of her buttocks, the small of her back, rubbed against his growing hardness was exquisite torture. He stifled a groan. Did she have the energy to tease him even now? His deepest instincts urged him to pull her against him, take her, enter her uniquely female warmth. To cup the breasts that lay almost under his hands, tease the nipples into hardness, make her ready to receive him. He bit down on his lip savagely and denied the instincts one by one. It nearly took more willpower then he possessed.

  For long, tortured moments he held himself rigid against her, refusing to let the weakness take hold. He knew she was awake by the soft sound of her breathing, there was a slight shudder to it that had nothing to do with the dangers that had passed. He kept his arms still where they embraced her, his lips unmoving against the nape of her neck. It was only when he felt her struggle to turn that he released her with a shaky breath.

  "Luke?" Her voice was soft, uncertain. She twisted until she was almost on her back, able to look over her shoulder at him, loose pale hair drifted about her face. Her cheeks were flooded with healthy color now, perhaps more than mere warmth could account for. The full curve of her lips were parted, her dark eyes focusing slowly on his. "What—what happened?"

  The sensible nature of the question relieved the last of Luke's worries. She was lucid again, and her skin was warm and dry. With greater speed than he had dared to expect, her body had accepted his warmth and begun its recovery. The new worries that rose in him now had nothing to do with her physical safety.

  He struggled to form words. "You've been very ill, Joey. Hypothermia." He broke off as she registered what he told her, the sweet oval of her face abruptly paling under the flush."You had to be made warm as quickly as possible." The flustered feeling that rose in him at the expression on her face made his voice harsh with chagrin. "Unfortunately the treatment in a case like this involves body-to-body contact for maximum warmth. Now that you've recovered somewhat, we can get you in dry clothes, and I'll build up a fire."

  The practical list of tasks relieved the unaccustomed anxiety he felt as she watched him. He began to ease his way out of the sleeping bag, doing his best to ignore the soft slide of her body along his, when she stopped him with the lightest of touches. He froze halfway out of the bag.

  "I don't understand, Luke. How did this happen? How did I get hypothermia? I don't remember any of it." There was such genuine distress in her voice that Luke longed to take her into his arms again. Instead, he let his eyes focus on the cave entrance, where a growing darkness revealed the lateness of the hour.

  "I'll explain all that later, Joey," he said gruffly. "Right now there are things that need to be done so that we'll be comfortable here until morning." He pulled himself from the sleeping bag and paused to tuck the edges of it about Joey, filling in the space he had left behind. She stared up at him.

  "I remember a little snow." Shaking her head, she seemed at last to consciously register his state of undress. Her eyes slid over him, widening at the appropriate place. Luke suppressed an entirely foreign desire to cover himself. But there was no castigation in her expression—quite the contrary. Luke had to look away again very quickly.

  Turning his back, he pulled on the pants and shirt he had discarded
earlier, aware of her gaze burning into him from behind. "I still don't understand how I managed to get... why didn't I see it coming? There should have been symptoms, some warning—"

  Abruptly Luke whirled to face her. "You can blame that on me, Joey," he almost snarled. He caught hold of himself and smoothed his features with deliberation. "I haven't done a very good job as your guide. But I'll make sure I don't slip up again."

  Before she could react he strode past her, pausing at the cave entrance only to admonish her, "Stay in the bag and keep warm. Later you'll have to move around a little, but for now stay put. If you need clothes, there's an extra shirt of mine and a sweater behind you, the rest will have to be dried." He swung around.

  Joey called after him "Where are you going?" Her voice was very small. He stopped with his hand on the cold rock wall of the cave entrance.

  "Out for firewood. I'll try to build a small fire at the cave entrance, you'll need hot liquids and something to eat as soon as possible."

  He didn't pause again when Joey's final words trailed after him, shredded on the wind that buffeted snow against his face.

  "I knew we should have brought my stove!"

  Joey huddled back into the warmth of the sleeping bag as Luke disappeared, wondering if he'd heard her rather weak attempt at humor. It was hard to be funny when she was just beginning to realize that something very serious had happened. Not only the hypothermia, but something even more frightening.

  She remembered coming out of a daze, one she'd hardly been aware of, to feel Luke's hard body pressed into hers from behind. The shock of it had penetrated slowly, and by then some of the soft words he had spoken had connected. Stay awake, stay awake, he'd told her gently, over and over. She had obeyed without realizing it. When she'd come back to herself, to full realization, the first thing she knew was that Luke was most definitely aroused.

  It had been utterly impossible not to notice the firm male length of him trapped between their bodies. The confusion had passed quickly, and even before she could ask him what had happened, her own body had reacted to the feel of him. A rush of desire had momentarily blocked the logical need for answers. For a nearly unbearable instant she had been certain he would know how very ready she was for him, how much she wanted to feel him inside her. When she'd finally been able to turn and face him, his eyes had been so bleak that she had pushed back the primitive emotions and settled for practical questions instead.

  Even then he'd been obtuse about the whole thing. Joey felt herself flush with mingled discomfiture and a very definite desire to feel his body against hers again. It was hard to say which feeling was stronger. Just another of many moments of confusion she had experienced since the first day she'd met Luke Gévaudan.

  Joey rolled over in the bag, very much aware of the appealing male smell that permeated the half of it where he'd lain beside her. She pressed her nose to the lining and breathed it in. She still didn't have a full grasp of what had happened, but she knew Luke hadn't stripped her, and himself, for their mutual pleasure. He'd spoken of something even she knew was dangerous.

  Luke had been angry, though whether with her or with himself hadn't been clear. It had been something of an overreaction, like so many of his moods—like the brittle way he'd kept his distance ever since they'd found the wreckage. The message she had begun to glean from all that she'd learned of him began to make sense. He was afraid, that was clear but of what? Of being hurt, of being abandoned—of opening himself? Joey drew the edges of the bag more tightly about herself and grimaced. That was something she understood all too well.

  A slow resolve came to Joey then. It wasn't safe or logical, but it was most definitely real. It had been growing with every day they'd spent on the trail together, had begun to coalesce at the foot of the mountain where she'd laid her parents to rest. This last experience had confirmed the undeniable truth of it.

  She had asked herself what she wanted, and now she was certain.

  She wanted Luke. That much was fact. As for the rest—it was still too new, too overwhelming. There were some things she was not yet ready to face.

  Reflecting on the unsettling changes that had come over her, Joey slipped out of the sleeping bag long enough to don the shirt and sweater Luke had indicated in the rear of the cave. There were no underclothes and nothing to cover her legs, Joey felt as if she were swimming in the shirt and sweater, which reached well down her thighs But it was definitely better than nothing. She snuggled quickly back into the bag.

  Lost in her thoughts, Joey didn't hear Luke at first when he returned, brushing snow from his clothing. He tossed his hair out of his eyes and gazed down at her with a frown. Joey felt his anxiety like a physical thing in the brief moment that their gazes locked. What he saw in her face seemed to satisfy him, for he turned away again and busied himself with setting up a small fire just outside the mouth of the cave.

  Joey knew in that moment her feelings had been right. They might be crazy, but they were most definitely right. She smiled to herself as she watched Luke coax a fire into life, cursing softly under his breath when he was forced to use several matches before he got it to catch. Even the slight heat of the newborn flames was a real comfort, as Luke moved away from the entrance, Joey could see where he'd made a kind of wall out of the tent just beyond the fire, blocking the wind and leaving space for smoke to escape.

  Luke worked quietly and steadily, pulling gear from the packs and dumping fresh water he'd found into the largest of the pots, setting it to heat over the fire. He strung a cord between outcroppings on the cave wall and hung her damp clothes to dry. After he had done all the small things necessary to make an overnight stay as comfortable as possible, he brought an assortment of food over to Joey and crouched beside her to offer it.

  Even the most dry and tasteless trail food was immensely tempting. By the time she had finished, the water was boiling, and Luke made her mugs of steaming tea and bouillon, insisting that she drink several until she protested she could not hold another drop.

  Luke returned to check the fire, and Joey sank back into the sleeping bag, warmed inside and out. Whatever the effects of hypothermia, she seemed to have gotten off lightly, she felt incredibly good. Good enough so that her eyes found their way without hesitation to Luke's back where he crouched by the mouth of the cave, gazing out into the darkness and swirling snow.

  She thought again of the lean hardness of his legs touching hers, the arch of his hipbones, the flat planes of his belly, and the strength of his arms about her. He was wearing only a shirt and pants now, not even so much as a sweater, and she wondered at his ability to endure the cold, as she had wondered about so many other things. Having cared for her so well, he sat stubbornly across the length of the cave and seemed very far away. Too far.

  "Luke," she called softly.

  He stiffened.

  "Oh, don't be so blasted antisocial for a change! I liked it better when you were friendly." She knew it was the wrong tack when he stayed quite rigidly where he was, stirring at the fire with a half-burned twig. An errant snowflake escaped the heat of the fire and crossed the daunting distance to settle on his hair.

  "Please," she coaxed at last. "Won't you come over here? You may think it impresses me to show how immune you are to cold and hunger and the things that affect us mere mortals, but it only makes me feel inferior. You don't want to do that, do you?"

  There was a slow relaxation of the taut muscles of his back, visible through the thin wool of the shirt. At first he was silent, then, with a slow shrug, he turned his face half toward her, so that his profile was illuminated by the fire against the backdrop of the tent beyond. "No. I wouldn't want to do that."

  With the natural grace that always made her stare, he rose to his feet, keeping his head bent to avoid the low roof of the cave, and came toward her.

  Joey's heart began to pound with the force of her resolve and his undeniably powerful effect on her. She was entirely aware of the extra room beside her in the bag but kn
ew it was too soon to push her luck, instead, she wriggled forward so that she could lean against the cave wall, shrugging the blanket over her exposed upper body She patted the soft bed of needles and leaves beside her.

  Luke took the invitation. He dropped, at first, into a restless crouch, as if he would spring up at the slightest provocation; Joey gave him a long, reproachful look, and he slid down at last to stretch his long legs and rest his head against the cave wall.

  For a moment Joey was content to study him. His face was careworn—because of her, she realized. Concern—fear—for her. She didn't question her certainty. It only increased her determination. She found herself looking at him now with a stirring in her heart and deeper, in her soul, touching something that had been long concealed. There was one last protest from her crumbling barriers, and she ignored it.

  She remembered the first time she'd seen him. He'd been impressive even then, but now he was familiar, though just as charismatic. Now she understood a little more of him—not enough to solve his mysteries but enough to fill her with a powerful new longing. His profile was strong, shaped by discipline and years of aloneness, hardship, and simply being part of the wilderness he loved. Even in the scant light of the little fire, it was compelling beyond any face she had ever known.

  His hair was damp with melted snow, but he seemed not to notice. When the time was right, she'd brush back that errant lock where it fell into his eyes. She'd touch that hard arch of cheekbone, run her fingers over the slight dark stubble that had begun to appear on his chin and along his jaw, trace the grimness away from the narrow curve of his lips, smooth the lines between his straight dark brows. She would see those eyes turned on her with that burning, all-consuming need, for her.

  Luke turned to meet her gaze. For an instant she thought there would be no need for caution, that he would at last give in, but he looked away again, to stare at the floor between his knees.