“Like hell,” she snarled, knowing the furious sound rang out only in her mind. “I will not trade one owner for another. I will not sell my soul for life.”
At the same time, Tess refused to think of what she would sell for the chance to save her sister.
She struggled again, straining within her impossible bonds, but then slowly, as the hypnotic melody of their voices seeped into her, deeper and deeper, Tess ceased her struggles. Lost in a stark, shocked state of being, she allowed them to carry her through the dew-covered night, unaware of her surroundings, lost in the inner pain of her inability to protect the one person in this world whom she loved.
She had failed. Emily was gone.
Everything was lost.
* * * * *
“Not all is lost, sweet one,” a deep, dark voice murmured in her ear. “So long as you are missing, they will protect Emily with their dying breath. She will be their only hope now that they have allowed you to slip through their fingers.”
Tess struggled to make her dazed mind function. “Where have they taken her?” she demanded sluggishly, struggling to open her eyes. “Was I drugged?” she mumbled, wetting her lips.
“Naught but spelled by a bit of pixie persuasion,” the voice said with a warm laugh. “‘Tis harmless and is already wearing off.”
“And my sister?” she asked sharply.
He sighed, the tense sound warning her that she would not like his answer. “Precisely where the pixies told you she has been taken. She is now in the Lower Realms of the Blood Goddess. Dragomaene Chancellor or not, I’ve no doubt your sister is the only reason the Goddess allowed Montgomery and his men entrance into her lands.”
Tess worried her lower lip between her teeth, finally succeeding in cracking her lids as she slowly took in her surroundings. She stared up into a thick, sweet-scented bower of towering, leaf-filled trees, their verdant colors shifting from brilliant emerald to deep jade and crisp spring green. Long streamers of mossy ivy hung from the interwoven network of hearty branches and swung in the mellow breeze, looking like dancing ribbons swaying to the rhythm of the wind. She turned her head from side to side, but could see no one. “Wh-who are you?”
“I am Graedor,” the voice said calmly from behind her, its deep tones resonating through her body with a shivering wave of awareness. She felt it from her toes to her scalp, and her breath seemed to thicken within her chest at the provocative sound. It struck her like a rumbling storm, nearly as seductive to her as the husky tones of her dream lover.
“Graedor the Grey,” she repeated, whispering like a child in church as she remembered the name recently spoken into her ear, trying it out upon her lips and liking the way it felt there. She pushed her torso up and turned her upper body to the side, aware that she had been lying upon the waist-high surface of a smooth, polished rock. Her fingers flexed against the unyielding surface of the cool stone, and she nearly gasped at the sight of him. A thousand questions and demands fluttered through her mind, and she nearly winced at the banality of the first words to fall from her lips. “Why grey, when you are so golden?”
A small smile skimmed his sculpted mouth, teasing and light. Obviously the gorgeous man was laughing at her for worrying about something so ridiculous when her life was in such turmoil, but she couldn’t deny the urge to ask the simple question. There was something behind the answer that she instinctively knew was important.
His head cocked to the side as he studied her out of amber eyes that seemed to roil like melted gold, mesmerizing in their beauty. “Trust me, maiden,” he finally murmured, “you’d rather not know, I’m sure.”
His attitude, after everything she’d already suffered that day, was too much. “I’ll be the judge of what I’d rather not know,” she nipped curtly, aware that she sounded like a prim tight-ass. “Why grey?”
He regarded her with those golden, intent eyes that seemed to gleam within the thick fog of the circle of stones, and then gave an arrogant nod of his golden head, as if reaching some unspoken decision. “Very well, maiden,” he murmured, and turned, reaching behind his neck with one powerful hand to move the thick fall of his silken hair to the side.
The sharp intake of her breath broke past her lips, eyes widening as she took in the snarling tattoo of a grey wolf upon the back of his powerful neck. Its snout was long and feral, jaws gaping horrifically to reveal the long, lethal teeth within its mouth, huge head thrown back as an animal cry seemed to spill from its deadly jowls.
A strange, unsettling suspicion fell over her body, itching beneath her skin, and Tess suddenly wished that she had never asked. Then he turned, looking down at her over his broad shoulder, and she knew. She knew not how, but she knew with unwavering certainty what this—this being—was. Had the commanding little pixie, as he’d called them, not warned her that the grey wolf was the one who had demanded she be taken to The Wood?
“You’ve nothing to fear from me, maiden,” he said in a low, gravel-filled voice, turning back to her slowly, as though afraid of moving too quickly and frightening her further. “I’d die to protect you,” he murmured, lowering his head, “as is my honor as Zarnak’s blood brother. I will never cause you any harm.”
“You’re…you…you’re a… Oh god,” she stammered helplessly, wondering why she felt as if she could believe him, and in his claims of protection in a world that had never offered her any.
“I am,” he said wryly, staring at her from beneath his lashes, “but we’ve more to concern ourselves with at the moment.”
Tess shook her head in horrified fascination. “Such as?”
The blond giant’s head tilted slightly to the side again as he studied her through knowing golden eyes. “I must prepare you.”
Well hell. She didn’t like the sound of that. “Prepare me?”
“He has scented you on the air,” Graedor murmured, his own nostrils flaring thinly as he took a deep breath, “and will be here soon. I’d rather you know ecstasy rather than pain the first time beneath his touch, though it will not be easy, for his beast’s hunger for you is nearly as powerful as that of the man. I’ll help you, maiden, if you will but trust me.”
Well hell again, she sooo wasn’t liking the sound of this. “And what of letting me go? Is that not an option?” she asked, her voice a brittle, hard slash of sound that echoed off the ancient stones. “And what is it with this maiden stuff? My name is Tess.”
The man’s eyes narrowed with disappointment, and Tess fisted her hands, hating the ridiculous compulsion thrumming through her veins to do as he asked and give him her trust.
“If you ask, he will set you free. But know that it will be his death, maiden,” he explained, stubbornly refusing to use her name. “Will you demand his life, rather than give the precious blood of your womb? Is your innocence so much to ask, for a man who knows only you within his heart?”
“That’s not fair,” she breathed out deeply, realizing with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had been brought here for the unicorn, just as her uncle had planned. Icy tentacles of fear clawed at her insides, and yet she refused to panic. True, she had not thought she would live to reach this point. Not when she had fully expected to die trying to free Emily. And somehow she had never truly thought of what would happen here. It had never seemed real to her, merely the demented ranting of Montgomery. God, she had been such a fool.
Trying to sound logical, she said, “You can’t emotionally blackmail me into giving my ‘innocence’ to a total stranger.”
“Is he a stranger, Tess Laurent?” Graedor asked, his amber gaze daring her to deny the truth. “Has he not visited you each night? Has he not lived within your dreams? Know you not his heart? The honor of his warrior’s soul?”
Visited her each night! Sweet Jesus! Tess reeled mentally as he spoke those words, and for a moment she wondered if she would simply black out again. Her warrior? Was it possible?
No…it couldn’t be. It was impossible. So huge and mind-blowing that she cou
ldn’t even wrap her brain around it. Too many emotions stumbled over one another within her dazed brain, creating a flurry of chaos and disbelief, while her heart soared with wrenching hope and terror.
Christ, it was impossible that her dream lover would be somehow connected to the unicorn Montgomery had sought for so many years.
And yet, wasn’t she surrounded by the impossible? Cocky little pixies and a gorgeous freaking werewolf! How much more impossible did things need to get before her stubborn mind would begin believing?
Tess shook her head. “I’m crazy,” she muttered, closing her eyes, and yet deep within, she did believe. She’d seen too much within her uncle’s household not to. Too many acts could not be explained within this world, if not for the realms of which this Graedor spoke.
She only hoped, for Emily’s sake…and for once, perhaps even her own, that she would survive them.
* * * * *
Zarnak lifted his head, nostrils flaring as he absorbed the earthy perfume of a woman’s scent on the air.
His woman.
His dream maiden, here, in The Wood? Had she come to him? Impossible—and yet, there was no mistaking her precious scent of promises and ecstasy. Svarqak…how?
His muscles clenched in a rippling wave of hunger, so fierce it nearly brought him to the moist, green ground upon which he stood. He threw back his head and took a deep breath into his lungs, sucking up every drop into his ravenous cells. Sending out his thoughts, he searched for his friend and found the grey wolf in the center circle of stones within The Clearing.
And in that instant, he knew all that had transpired.
Fucking meddling werewolf!
Why in the gods’ names have you done this? he bellowed into Graedor’s mind, feeling a slight sting of satisfaction when he felt the golden-haired giant wince from the painful telepathic roar.
Come and ask me that yourself, Zarn, the grey wolf taunted.
A furious bellow echoed through the hazy, damp darkness surrounding him, and with his next breath, the mighty unicorn set off, thundering his way through the verdant Wood.
Chapter Four
The Claiming
“Now I will believe that there are unicorns…”
The Tempest
Shakespeare
“We must hurry,” Graedor muttered at Tess’ side, wrenching open her shirt and tugging open the button fly of her jeans with his long, dark fingers. Entranced, she stared at his big, battle-scarred hands manipulating her clothing, mesmerized by the strangely compelling sight. Part of her wondered why she wasn’t screaming her head off like bloody murder, while another—that part starved for physical contact and affection—longed to shout out its shy encouragement and hurry him along. Amazingly enough, it was that starved part of her soul that terrified her the most—more so than the realization that the man who was systematically removing her clothing was not a man at all. Discovering the existence of werewolves was one thing, but learning that she’d become a greedy little sex fiend was something she couldn’t quite accept. The only man she wanted touching her was her dream warrior, and damn it, she still didn’t know what to believe was happening here tonight.
“Honestly, what’s the rush?” she gritted through her teeth, more to keep them from chattering than out of anger.
“We haven’t much time,” Graedor replied in a low, lust-thickened voice that made Tess shiver with arousal, even as her rational mind rebelled against his actions.
A little too breathlessly for her liking, she asked, “Before what?” She was not entirely certain that she wanted to know—or rather, not certain that she wanted to accept what was coming. Instead, the safer question seemed to be the one she forced out of her tight throat. “And what the hell are you doing to my clothes? I haven’t agreed to anything!”
“I’ll tell you before what,” he laughed, shaking his head at her stubbornness. His calloused palms quickly slipped her shirt from her shoulders, pulling the wrinkled white cotton from her arms to toss it upon the ground, then slipped inside the open waist of her jeans. “Before he comes thundering into this clearing. And you know damn well that you’re going to agree, maiden. Unfortunately, I don’t have the time for you to sit and mull it over in that stubborn mind of yours. Lift your hips,” he instructed, and Tess found herself automatically bracing her hands on the rock behind her to do as he said. “If I don’t get you ready now, it will be too late, and I can’t prepare you fully dressed, you angry little innocent,” he explained in a low rumble, while tugging her jeans over her full hips, his calluses teasing her sensitive skin, the edges of his beautiful mouth curling into a wry smile when she trembled beneath his touch.
“What is it with all the ‘little one’ and ‘little innocent’ and ‘little mortal’ remarks? Are you all blind? I’m not little and I couldn’t be little if I tried,” she grumbled up at him, wondering just how tall the arrogant giant was. He towered over her, even with her body perched upon the smooth rock. “Not even if I starved myself for a month! So enough already. And who the hell decided that I wanted to be prepared?”
She sounded like a stubborn, recalcitrant child, she knew, but damn it, she hated knowing she had so thoroughly lost control of this situation.
Not that I’ve ever actually had control.
No, she was simply being carried along for the ride, watching the fabric of her life molded into the precise shape these fantastical creatures sought—swept away by events so extreme, she never would have believed they were happening was she not living their reality, placed front and center to the strange proceedings.
It suddenly occurred to Tess that sooner or later she was going to have to demand some equal ruling time in this bizarre scenario, because she was beyond tired of being pushed and pulled in all directions like a freaking puppet. Granted, she wasn’t exactly certain as to what she’d do with a little control if she ever got it, but her pride and spirit demanded nothing less.
“I’ll tell you who decided you want some preparation. I did,” the arrogant beast at her feet drawled, reminding Tess that she’d asked Graedor the question, while his hands wrenched her jeans from her ankles, leaving her in nothing but the pale ivory satin of her panties and bra. Almost at once, his hands paused, hovering above her knees, and he appeared transfixed by the sight of her creamy, moonlit body as it shivered upon the smooth surface of the stone. Wrapping her arms protectively over her chest, Tess struggled not to blush beneath his intense scrutiny, that dark stare caressing her long legs and round thighs, her plump, panty-covered mound and the gentle curve of her belly, before sweeping across the obvious bulge of her breasts imprisoned behind her arms. She knew she must look a mess, and yet, the glittering fire of male appreciation burning in his amber gaze nearly scalded her with sensual awareness of her body, making her feel strangely like a powerful seductress. Well, maybe if her hair wasn’t tangled around her tense face, her skin covered with chill bumps and her body too curved—more plump than she knew was considered fashionable or even attractive by a modern society which seemed to glorify figures that were little more than skin and bones.
But wait. Whoa, am I really sitting here, nearly naked beneath the hungry gaze of a bloody werewolf, worrying over the state of my hair and body fat percentage?
Tess couldn’t help but laugh at herself for wasting her somewhat questionable sanity reserves on such trivial matters.
Woman, you have totally lost it.
With a slight hitch to her breathing, she sighed deeply, releasing the air from her lungs in a slow, steady stream, like a balloon that was softly losing its substance, and wondered what she was going to do about Mr. Yummy-Looking-Golden-God of a man and, heaven only knew, whatever that was out there in the forest.
Tess narrowed her eyes, willing her vision to penetrate the dense tangle of vibrant green that made up the circle of forest surrounding them, but it was too thick, too lush with organic life too see anything. But it was out there, she knew, coming for her.
He was out there.
Could it really be her dream warrior? Was he truly the unicorn she had been brought here to gift with her innocence? Did she dare allow herself to hope…to believe…to pray for a miracle?
If it was true…and he claimed her innocence, retaking the physical form of her breathtaking warrior, what then? What would happen? Once he had gotten what he needed, would she be tossed aside and forgotten, leaving her with no means of rescuing Emily? Would he look upon her with lust like he had every other time he’d come to her in the misty realm of her dreams, or would he pass her by for a frail, pale seductress who would complement his outrageous beauty?
A small, winsome smile traveled her lips. She knew there was no time to think of this now, but she couldn’t help it. Was she losing her grip on reality altogether? Well, who would blame her, after carrying on for the better part of the night with pixies and a bossy werewolf who looked like something out of a freaking fantasy?
Honestly, Tess. What’s a little dementia in this crazy-ass reality? Hell, you’ll probably fit right in, lady.
And if her warrior no longer wanted her, once he’d had her, then Tess knew she was better off without him. Her heart, however, refused to believe that he would turn away from her. She had no idea what to expect emotionally, but somehow she knew, deep within, in the very core and fiber of her being, that he would still desire her physically. He wouldn’t care that she had curves and a well-cushioned backside, and the thought brought a shy smile to her lips, a rushing warmth of color to her cheeks. It wasn’t like she was unhealthy—she was just what Emily, god bless her, liked to call beautifully curvy. Emily, the little imp, who could eat the house down and never put on an ounce.
The thought of her sister put a sharp, painful ache in her heart, and Tess pressed her palm against the tender spot, forcing her mind to focus on something else before she lost it. According to everyone around here, the only one who could help her get her sister back was the beast pounding his way through the forest toward her, and Tess vowed that she’d do whatever it took to make that happen.
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