by Arial Burnz
She rapped on the door and tapped her foot, waiting longer than usual for him. Just as she raised her fist to knock again, the door swung open and she gasped.
Thomas stood shirtless, unshaven and hair mussed. He was almost as muscular as Broderick, sleek curves and hard edges, but in a smaller package. The effect Thomas’s nude torso had on her was nothing in comparison to seeing Broderick’s last night in front of the villagers. Her mouth had watered as Broderick turned his godlike body full circle and she’d devoured every inch of his skin with her eyes. He was a sight to behold! However, Thomas’s half-naked state was a mere surprise due to the inappropriateness.
She crossed her arms and pursed her lips. “Not feeling well?”
“And good morning to you, my dear,” he greeted with an especially low and gravelly voice. “I had not expected you to call so early. Please, come in.” He surprised her by stepping aside to allow her entrance without incident. She placed her basket on the desk.
Thomas shuffled to the center of the room and seated himself, putting his head in his hands, resting his elbows on the table.
“You lied to me.” She stood over him with her hands on her hips. “You said you locked yourself up on the nights of the full moon.” Unexpectedly, a lump clogged her voice when she thought of poor Brynner.
“Normally, I do, and I’m sorry.” At least he seemed contrite, his words thick with regret and sorrow. He sat back and sighed. “I had been out tending to some personal affairs and…” His ice-blue eyes traveled down her body. “I became so engrossed in what I was doing, I lost track of the time.” His gaze lingered on her breasts before they returned to her face. Any trace of sorrow was gone, replaced with smoldering desire.
She retreated a few steps and clenched her jaw. “You’ve endangered my friend, Brynner!” Monika crossed her arms over her breasts.
“Believe me, I regret doing so, but there would have been two people bitten last night if not for the timely intervention of a Vamsyrian.”
She hitched her breath. “A what?” Broderick?
“They’re the natural enemies of werewolves. Blood sucking, night dwellers who—”
“I know what they are. Are you certain it was a Vamsyrian?”
He scoffed. “I know one when I see one, my dear.”
Monika blanched. Herr MacDougal has a lot of explaining to do!
“We werewolves have a certain sense about them when they’re close. It gives us an advantage over them, along with the fact that they cannot hear our thoughts. A Vamsyrian usually won’t know when a werewolf is upon them.”
“Why is that?”
“You know about Vamsyrians, but not their connection to werewolves?” He shrugged. “The very purpose of a werewolf is to kill Vamsyrians. The venom of our bite, which causes the curse, is fatal to those blood-sucking monsters. We are, quite literally, the hounds of hell, but for the betterment of mankind. Honestly, if the transformation wasn’t so damned painful, I would enjoy being a werewolf.” He propped his foot on the table, spreading his legs as he leaned back in his chair, the contours of his groin very obvious in his thin breeches. Heat flushed to Monika’s cheeks and she diverted her attention higher. Lacing his hands behind his head, he displayed his full naked torso in all its muscular glory. If Thomas’s character wasn’t so shifty and selfish, she might actually be attracted to the man. His body was pure, physical art…but he knew it all too well.
She focused on his eyes. “Then why didn’t you kill the Vamsyrian?”
He glowered. “He had a silver blade.” Thomas put his leg down and winced as he stood. He attempted to pull the waistband of his breeches down, exposing a rather nasty cut on his hip, but the gash disappeared into his trousers.
Monika shook her head and retrieved her basket. Pulling up a chair, she sat beside him and riffled through her remedies for the treatments she needed. “Please pull your waistband down further so I may clean and dress the wound.”
He smirked. “I’m afraid it goes down much further than you might be able to handle.”
She pursed her lips. “This is my job, Herr Carr. Flesh does not bother me.”
He chuckled. “I warned you.”
Chapter Nine
Thomas unraveled the leather lacing just over his left thigh. With his right hand, he held his trousers in place over his groin. With his left hand, he peeled back his breeches to expose a thick laceration that started at his left hip and slashed diagonally across his buttock…his rounded, well-shaped buttock.
Swallowing to moisten her mouth, suddenly gone dry, she focused on finding the cleansing solution and cloths with shaking hands.
Thomas’s husky laughter stoked her already flaring temper. He hissed as she applied the cloth with the solution and fought to suppress a grin. As if in retaliation, Thomas released his right hand and feigned scratching his head. Her eyes darted to the thatch of black hair and the base of his member peeking from under his breeches. She clenched her jaw and doused the cloth with more solution, dragging it across his wound a little harder than she normally would. She was rewarded with a hiss and a grumble.
Thomas snarled at first, but then chuckled, apparently amused he’d elicited such a response from her. “You like to play rough, I see.” He voice dropped in tone and seduction. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“This is about as naked as you’ll get in front of me, Herr Carr.” She smeared healing ointment on the length of his gash, none too delicately, redirecting his attention to the pain. She grinned when he grunted. As she applied more salve, she noticed an old scar on his ribcage—a couple of inches wide and may have been a very deep wound. “That scar on your side.”
“That scar…uh, yes.” His eyes and mouth drooped with intense sadness, so sad Monika questioned his sincerity. “That is the first time a silver blade saved someone’s life.”
“How do you mean?” Monika searched for a bandage cloth and some strips.
“Many years ago, I attacked someone who had a silver blade. If not for that blade, I would have torn him to bits.”
Monika thought back to when she first entered the room and confronted him about Brynner’s attack. And now this account. What was his game? “But I thought werewolves—”
“Didn’t remember what happened while in wolf form?” he finished. “Not so, my dear. I remember every single bloody act, always watching in horror but never in control of my faculties.”
Liar! Monika clenched her jaw, but held her tongue. She was actually going to say she thought werewolves knew exactly what they were doing when in wolf form and was going to confront him. She knew better because of her father. But why would he want me to believe otherwise? Unless control is only available to some werewolves, such as my father?
A sad smile softened his steel gray gaze. “Are you quite well, Monika?” He caressed her cheek and she shoved his hand away.
Gritting her teeth, she slapped the bandages on the table and collected her supplies. “Just put the cloth over the wound and use the strips to hold it in place. I’m sure you can manage yourself.” She rose from her chair and stomped to the desk, making her hands busy with organizing the contents of her basket to keep her from wanting to torch the monster.
“I thought, perhaps, you were unlike other women. But I suppose not.”
She whirled on him. “What exactly are you implying?”
He crossed his arms and smirked. His breeches hung very low on his trim hips, threatening to fall off his body if not for his wide stance and muscular thighs. She was fairly certain his growing erection might also have something to do with keeping his trousers in place.
Monika thought she might be treading on treacherous territory, if not for his calm demeanor.
“Oh, that you’re sympathetic one moment and when I say something complimentary, suddenly you push away and you’re angry.” He shrugged. “I understand. It’s all part of the games women play. They run.” He lowered his voice. “We chase.”
The new, predatory glimmer in his
eyes escalated the situation to dangerous and Monika stopped the sarcastic retort she was about to throw at him. She crossed her arms to still her shaking hands and cover her breasts, using every ounce of her will to appear calm and unperturbed. “If you would finish dressing your wound and put your clothes back on, I’d like to get these transcriptions finished.” She smiled.
Thomas’s hungry gaze traveled the length of her before he chuckled and reached for the bandages.
Monika turned back around to the desk to finish organizing her basket, then arranged the quill, ink and parchment for her task, praying he didn’t notice her quivering hands or hear the thundering of her heart, which seemed so loud in her ears.
“You must hate me.”
She jerked at his nearness.
He laid warm, comforting hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry. Being around me must be unnerving. I embody the monster who killed your mother.”
She sighed. “Thomas, you’ve been a werewolf for six years. Locking yourself up at night should be routine for you. I’m angry that your carelessness has put someone I love in danger.”
His grip tightened on her shoulders. “So Brynner is your lover?”
She shrugged out of his grasp and stepped aside. “Brynner is like a brother to me, not that it’s any of your business. But you seemed more concerned with yourself than the safety of others. That is what angers me so!”
Thomas’s eyes flashed yellow and Monika held her breath. He closed his eyes and bowed his head, turning his back to her. “Forgive me. I really shouldn’t be around you right now.”
“I understand,” she said in an effort to keep him calm. “I’m close to finishing the transcriptions and I’m learning more as I go along. I am very hopeful we’ll have a cure soon, so Brynner’s condition might not be an issue. And you won’t have to deal with this curse any longer.”
He nodded. “I’m glad you suggested that. Perhaps we can be sure the cure works on Brynner.”
Monika hitched her breath. “What?”
“I probably should not have said that.” He held up his hand when Monika opened her mouth to protest. “In my current condition, I’m libel to say nothing right. I’ll not keep you from your task. I’ll just tend to my wounds.” Thomas snatched the bandages and walked to his bed where he proceeded to drop his trousers.
Monika gasped. “Herr Carr!” She stomped out the door, closing it behind her and pacedg the hall. Just to be sure she was seen, she awaited him at the end of the corridor on the landing of the staircase, arms crossed and fuming. The audacity!
After several moments, he emerged shaven, hair combed and dressed. “I’ll not return until a couple of hours before nightfall.”
She glowered at Thomas, who dipped his head in farewell and traipsed down the stairs to the tavern level of the inn. Huffing, she stormed back into the room, slamming the door behind her.
Monster! She plopped down at the desk to conduct the transcriptions.
Katrina’s experiments went on much longer than Monika anticipated, but her mother was very thorough in her studies. And some of the tasks she had Marcus do made Monika a little uncomfortable. It was almost as if Katrina had no sympathy for him, as if the pain he was suffering meant nothing to her, which was very unlike her mother.
However, as the entries continued, Katrina began including personal notes—which Monika did not include in the transcriptions—and the callousness of her mother became clear. “I had originally questioned why Symon insisted Monika not be present whenever Herr Sparenland came to call,” Katrina wrote. “But I have come to understand his reasons and I am grateful for his discretion and methods. I have tolerated Marcus’s lewd remarks and comments about my own appearance since his first visit—although Symon has been ready to rip out Marcus’s throat—but to make such lascivious comments and glances at my twelve-year-old daughter? This werewolf is a beast in both animal and human form.”
Monika paused and thought back to any time she would have seen Marcus Sparenland. Mina had always taken her away during his visits. How was it possible he had seen her? She resumed the transcriptions, but the next section was a continuation of the personal entry. “When I saw Marcus admiring Monika across the courtyard with such lustful eyes and pulled him inside, I gained full understanding and questioned Symon that night. He admitted to seeing Marcus that first day he approached our cottage seeking assistance. Symon had returned from harvesting medicinals, and Marcus stood staring at Monika and Irma while they played across the way. By the time he approached our cottage, Symon overheard Marcus and I speaking, and those inappropriate compliments he paid me. I had always wondered why my husband reacted so violently toward Marcus, as I had never known Symon to be a jealous man. I now know. I wholeheartedly agree with Symon. We will continue to keep Monika away during his sessions.”
She sat back and nodded. Now she remembered. She and Irma had been sitting on a patch of dirt at the edge of the cobblestone courtyard playing noughts and crosses, scratching the “x” and “o” marks into the soil with sticks. A game they’d played a hundred times, but this incident stuck out in her mind because her father had raised his voice and grabbed a dark-haired man by the shirt at the door of their cottage. Her father never raised his voice, let alone showed any violence toward someone. Mina had been sitting close by, visiting with Irma’s mother, and ushered Monika and Irma into Irma’s house.
Though Monika made considerable progress on the transcriptions, she was dismayed when Thomas walked through the door, her work not complete. She flipped through the book until she found the last entry. The rest of book held blank pages for additional entries.
“And how did you fare today?” he asked, more contrite and less flirtatious.
“Not finished just yet. I have approximately twenty or so pages left.” She stacked the papers and placed them in her basket. “But I should finish on the morrow.”
“Then tomorrow will be a sad day for me since I will not have the pleasure of your company.” His apologetic smile surprisingly seemed sincere.
“But you will be that much closer to a cure.” She clasped her hands before her and leaned against the desk. “I’m sad to say that Marcus had to endure more testing in the entries I transcribed today. My mother would give him herbal mixtures with instructions to create infusions or teas. He would try them just before nightfall and report his findings the next day.” She bowed her head. “The notes I just transcribed detailed some of the attacks. My parents had done well to protect me from seeing the wounded. I had only learned about them and attended their burials.” Tears moistened her eyes, just as they did when she read the pages. She wiped them away. “I had always thought they died from being torn apart by the werewolf.” Monika shook her head. “Marcus had convinced my mother to try the cure on those afflicted. She approached them with the suggestion and, though many of them were afraid, they seemed more willing to brave the cure than be cursed. They had all died in my mother’s arms.” She wiped the tears from her face with her palm and now understood why Edda cast her such a sad and apologetic gaze last night. Edda had respected her parents’ wishes and never let Monika know how they died.
“Very good.” Thomas handed Monika one gold coin. He nodded very cordially to her and opened the door, making it very clear he wanted her to leave. “I will see you on the morrow, then.”
Monika frowned. “Good day, Herr Carr.” She collected her basket, left the room and made a hasty exit from The Red Stag, ensuring she avoided the innkeeper. As she stomped down High Street, she clenched her jaw. Callous and uncaring, Thomas had dismissed her as though their lives meant nothing. It was obvious he didn’t like being put in his place, nor did he appreciate her lack of interest in him and that seemed to be his concern…not the lives of others. Monster.
A hard grip on her arm caused her to wince and twirled her about. Fist raised, she was prepared to fend off the innkeeper.
“It’s me!” Jason exclaimed.
Monika relaxed. “For goodness sake!”
“I called your name several times and you kept walking.”
She released an exasperated sigh and made a small effort at pulling from his grasp. “I apologize if I seemed to ignore you. I was rather lost in my thoughts.” Even if she had ignored Jason, wouldn’t it have been obvious she wanted nothing to do with him? She shifted her shoulders to pull from his grip, but he still held tight. “Herr Kiefer, would you—”
“The way you left the inn, I thought the innkeeper had hurt you again.” His brow scrunched with concern.
“Honestly, the way you grabbed me, I thought you were the innkeeper. Will you please release me?”
He frowned. “Are you well?”
Had he not heard her? She nodded. “Yes, I am well. Now please—”
“Then why do you look so angry? Are you sure the innkeeper didn’t hurt you and you’re just not telling me?”
She gawked at Jason. This oblivious young man acted as if she owed him explanations and accounts of her well-being as if they were courting. “I appreciate your concern for me, but it’s very inappropriate.”
His frown deepened. “Why is my concern inappropriate? A man should care about the woman he’s courting.”
“Herr Kiefer, you walked me home one day. That is hardly enough cause to—”
His mouth descended upon hers and she pushed away before their lips touched. She cracked her palm against the side of his face. “You have spoken to me only on two other brief occasions and you have the audacity to make such advances? Good day!”
Monika marched away from a stunned cluster of observers and a frowning Jason Kiefer. She continued to glance behind her to be sure he didn’t follow. Thankfully, he didn’t. “Be careful what you put your spirit toward,” her mother had once warned her. “You might not receive what you expect.” How right you were, Mama. Monika decided she would most certainly not perform the final day of her ritual. Besides, she had a more pressing matter to contend with. Broderick MacDougal—a whoring Vamsyrian.