When he awoke with the first strange lights of pink dawn stretching over his skin, he realized something was horribly wrong.
Mari was still in his arms, but his muscles all ached and there was a smell. A scent of blood and death that permeated the air. He breathed deeply, trying to unravel the scents from the one another.
So much fear.
That would make sense with him in the forest if all the little woodland animals hadn’t fled from his presence. There were no other living creatures in this part of the forest. No mammals anyway.
He tugged at the thread and the strongest scent after the fear was the copper tang of blood.
With an undercurrent of silver.
At one time, silver had smelled like poison to him. Something rotten.
It didn’t bother him now. It simply was. It was another scent like any other.
He opened his eyes slowly, not actually wanting to see the scene that awaited him, but knowing he had no choice. Whether he looked or not wouldn’t change anything.
His hands were sticky, in fact, his whole body was covered in some kind of—blood.
His eyes flew open and he realized that when he’d said there were no other mammals in the forest, he’d meant it. He hadn’t sensed Mari’s life force, but she was right here in his arms.
Dear fucking Goddess, if something had happened to Mari, may she smite him.
Except, her chest rose and fell with breath. He didn’t understand what was happening.
Mari opened her pretty ice blue eyes. “What’s wrong, Warner?” She gave a languorous stretch. “Mm, what’s that smell? It smells divine.”
Warner froze. “Does that smell like food to you?”
She nodded. “Mmmhmm.” Mari licked her lips.
“We should go to the river. Close your eyes.”
“I’m not closing my…” Mari turned in his arms and she saw the carnage strewn about them.
He realized she had blood on her mouth.
What had he done?
11
Mari knew their idyll in the woods couldn’t last.
They were on borrowed time.
She knew it would end, but she didn’t expect it to end like this.
Mari realized she now knew his horror intimately. She’d awakened to the scent of something delicious. Something she wanted to devour, only to discover it was wolf flesh.
Fear gripped her because she couldn’t remember what happened.
But she stuffed it down because Warner would be able to smell it. Whatever had happened here, there had to be a reason.
“What have I done?” He looked up at her, his eyes haunted.
“We don’t know that you’ve done it. I might’ve done it.”
“You couldn’t have,” he whispered.
“I’m just as covered in blood as you are.” She took his hand. “Come on, we need to get to the river and clean up.”
“No. I need to be locked up. This wolf wasn’t infected.”
“How do you know? Because what’s left isn’t still squirming? Maybe Peter’s progeny are easier to destroy than he, himself, was. First things first, though. Come with me.”
He looked at her outstretched hand like it was some sort of long lost treasure, so she didn't understand why he wouldn’t take it.
“Look what I’ve done. I understand that I have to do whatever it is I’ve been created to do. Run down those wolves. Destroy them. I get that. But I can’t be around—”
Mari wasn’t going to the argue the point just yet.
Yes, he should go back to Aphelion where Westwood and Blake can help him. Where he could be surrounded by the pack that he loved. Where he could find a way to live with this.
A way to do what he’d been created to do and to be happy.
Mari wasn’t going to push that. Not when he was covered blood and gore. Not when his hands and teeth were still bloody with guilt.
She just had to get him to the river.
If she could baptize him in a way, rinse it all away with the cold, natural waters, make him feel clean again and then wrap him in her love, she was sure she could save him.
Correction: She was sure he’d let himself be saved.
She knew if he wouldn’t go for himself, he’d go for her.
“Please come to the river with me. I need to bathe too and the current is fast.”
He looked stricken, but then he finally took her hand.
She led him carefully through the trees toward the river and away from the scene of devastation behind them.
“You don’t really need me here,” he said as she stepped one tentative foot into the water.
“Yes, I really do, Warner.”
“You’re a strong swimmer.”
“I am. But I need you. What if one of those things were to find me? What if the current swept me downstream and right into a whole village of them?”
What if I let you run away and I never see you again? What if I’m the one Woolven Mate who isn’t up to the task?
“It’s unlikely.” He turned haunted eyes on her.
She reached up slowly, carefully, with her palms cupped and began to scrub the evidence of what had happened from his skin.
He had so many scars. His body was covered in the proof of his strength, his ferocity and his loyalty.
Suddenly, anger blossomed in her chest like a poison flower.
His steadfast loyalty had earned him nothing but this. An existence contrary to everything he believed. He everything he’d worked for. Everything he was.
He’d done everything right, this noble wolf.
He’d sacrificed until there was nothing left for himself and still the powers that be decided he had more to give.
Warner didn’t deserve this.
But maybe she did.
She’d never given up anything she wanted. Mari had never had anything in her hands that she’d worked for, bled for, and carved out a very piece of her to see it grow and thrive. Never.
Mari knew what she had to do if she wanted to help Warner.
She had to entreat the Goddess to take away his curse, but Mari knew that it would only come with sacrifice. If there was another to take his place.
She didn’t have much to offer as far as Dark Champions went. Apparently, only the noblest wolves were chosen. Only those who were pure of heart could handle the beast.
Mari knew her heart was nowhere near as pure as Warner’s, but her intentions couldn’t be more noble. And maybe, just maybe, the Goddess would give her enough strength to endure this until the threat had been eliminated.
And Lenore could put her down, if that’s what it came to.
Warner would be free.
Mari knew fear, but it was only the fear that she wouldn’t be enough, that the Goddess wouldn’t take her in his place.
She wasn’t anywhere near as horrified at the prospect of devouring shitty rogue werewolves for dinner as she should’ve been.
She’d have eaten Peter Breslin herself if she thought it would’ve helped anything.
And she’d have had champagne with the meal.
Thinking of champagne reminded her why this plan was the stupidest idea she’d ever conceived. How would she ever control anything so elemental, so primal when she couldn’t even call her own wolf?
Except maybe that was the key. She’d kept telling Warner to surrender, to be the weapon the Goddess wanted.
Warner suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her out of her thoughts.
“What’s wrong?” he said. “The look on your face is utter dejection.”
The expression he wore seemed to beg her for an answer, any answer except that he was the source of her wound.
“I was just thinking about our little problem.”
He laughed. “Little?”
“Meh.” She shrugged and continued to sluice water over his body. Deciding to distract him, she pointed at the scar around his throat. “Surely, our current situation is not as serious as this.”
He s
eemed to come back to himself. Enough at least to flash her a wry grin. “Well, I was pretty sure I was going to die.”
“Yeah,” she said, tracing it with her fingertips.
His eyes closed as he allowed her to caress the marred, puckered skin.
“And you were okay with it.”
His eyes opened, his irises ringed in the red that she’d come to associate with his desire. “I was.”
“Why?”
“I was tired, Mari. So tired. I was all used up.”
“Was?” Her fingertips fluttered down to the bottom of the set of scars that sliced from his forehead, down across his eye and all the way down to his chest.
“Do you remember being dead?” She traced other scars on his body, following their path with the water and doggedly scrubbing him clean.
“Yes.”
One word answers seemed to be his specialty, but in this case, she could hear the hard push behind the word. He remembered, but he didn’t want to tell her. She could let it go, but she needed every weapon against the hopelessness that infected him.
Mari rather thought she knew what he was going to say.
He’d seen Arianna.
Been in her arms and he hadn’t wanted to leave.
Warner looked down at her, his expression softening. “Mari…”
“Tell me. I know already. I just want to hear it. I want you to hear it.”
“Hear what?”
“I’m not sure yet. Say it. Tell me about how you were with Arianna.”
Warner looked like he’d been punched. “You don’t want to hear about that.”
“But I do. I need to. Tell me.”
She grabbed his hand and cupped his palm, filling it with the cold water and guiding him to wash her the same as she’d washed him.
The water was ice cold, but somehow, she hadn’t even felt it. Not since she first led him into the swirling, rushing, depths. All she felt was him. The heat of his nearness, the heat of his hand, the way his very presence filled up the world around her and stole her breath.
“I was in her arms. Drowning in the fire of her hair.”
Mari girded herself against the pain to come, but no sharp stab of pain, or jealousy, or even her self-doubt.
“What did she say?”
“She told me to come back. That my work wasn’t finished.”
“And would she want you to finish this work?”
“Damn it, Mari. You’re not playing fair.”
“Oh Warner,” she said, his hands moving over flesh. “This life hasn’t been fair to either of us. We do what we can with what we have.”
“I’m sorry all you have is me,” he said quietly. “You deserve better.”
“So do you.” She put her hands on his, holding his hands still.
“I’ve tried my best to protect you, to give you what you need, but you wanted none of it. So tell me, how do I make things right for you?”
“You’re not going to like my answer.”
“I’m sure that I won’t.” Warner pulled her closer to him. “But tell me. I’ll do it.”
“Good. I want you to come back with me to Aphelion. Back to Blake. Back to Westwood.”
“Westwood…” he trailed off. “Westwood.”
“Yes. Obey your Alpha. Even if it’s just to prove to yourself that you can. And before you say anything, I’ll send word for Westwood to enhance the wardings. You won’t hurt anyone you love.”
“Okay, Mari. I’ll do this.” He sighed heavily. “I’ll do it,” he said again, as if trying to convince himself.
She tightened her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“You’re good at getting your way.”
“Sometimes.” She exhaled heavily and relaxed against him. “We’re going to get through this, Warner. I will help you. I swear.”
He didn’t say anything, he just held her in the frigid water for a long time. Until they were both caught up in another spell that had them walking for the rocky shore at the same time as if some other power had decided.
“I don’t think I have other clothes,” Warner said.
“There’s a bag in the Vette. I think we should drive back.”
“I think you are correct,” he agreed.
She took the lead and he seemed content to allow it. Mari, using her nose, led them around what was left of Warner’s morning meal. They both knew it was there, but it seemed easier not to look at it again.
Naked, they approach the car. For the sake of expediency, they were lucky that the road was mostly abandoned and the car had yet to be towed, or broken into. Or stolen. Mari got the bag from the trunk.
It was then that a chorus of howls echoed stark and unnatural into the morning.
Warner froze.
At the stricken expression on his face, Mari knew something awful was about to happen.
He didn’t speak, didn’t seem to have the words.
Warner tried to take another step forward, tried for all he worth to go with Mari, but she knew as sure as the sky was blue that Warner Woolven would not be returning with her to Aphelion.
The beast burst from his skin.
Exploded from him like a rocket.
It seemed as if one minute, he’d been Warner, and the next, he was something else.
This was a new incarnation of the beast.
This was the Dark Champion in all of his wretched glory.
This time he’d been given, it had been a chrysalis.
He was bigger than ever before, standing nearly nine feet tall. His muscles were unnaturally large. His legs, she suddenly knew, would carry him distances that had once been unfathomable. Long, spikes protruded from his back all went all the way down to the tip of his tail. The spikes were all damn, seeming to be covered in something sticky. It was probably venom. When she looked into its eyes, she could see nothing of Warner. Nothing of the wolf or man that he was. There was zero recognition in its red eyes.
He nosed at her, finding the traces of blood she hadn’t washed off.
Its lips pulled back from a mouth full of too many long, sharp teeth. His muzzle more like it belonged on a shark than a werewolf.
His growl was earth-shaking, but Mari stood very still.
The beast’s long tongue slid out to glide over the blood on her skin and he growled while he licked her clean.
And it wasn’t anywhere near as erotic as it had been the night before.
His ears pricked and he drew his massive head up and away from her as he listened and with one last look at her, he ran back toward the woods.
Back toward the howls.
And away from the only answer Mari had.
With shaking hands, she finished dressing and rummaged around for the cell phone to try to call Lenore.
They were going to have to activate the emergency plan.
Hunt him down.
Tranq his ass.
And drag him back to Aphelion.
Only, after seeing the Dark Champion she wondered if maybe he’d been right all along. Maybe he didn’t belong at Aphelion.
But she had to try.
What if this started another war between the packs? They needed time to heal. Time to prosper again and build alliances.
For all intents and purposes, Warner was a Berserkr.
She didn’t want to think about what that meant.
Mari hoped against hope that Lenore would pick up. Since she was overseeing cleanup, she could already be anywhere.
“Whatcha got?” Lenore answered.
“This is Mari.”
“Not that it’s not great to hear from you, but if you’re calling, everything must’ve gone to shit.”
“The Dark Champion has risen. Warner is gone.”
12
Warner had zero control over his body.
It still felt as if he’d mutated into one giant, pulsing nerve that was made only of desire.
Desire for fucking.
Desire for meat.
For blood.
&nbs
p; For ripping and tearing into soft flesh.
The darkness was in the driver’s seat.
He knew this wasn’t right. Dark Champion or not, these cravings were increasing in intensity and he refused to believe that the powers that be would unleash this kind of darkness with no way to stomp on the breaks.
He was as big of a danger to human and supe populations as Peter’s pack.
It didn’t make sense.
Be quiet.
Be still.
All is as it should be.
We will hunt them down and tear them apart.
No more pain.
No more hunger.
Stop fighting.
Westwood told him to stop fighting.
Mari told him to stop fighting.
Lenore and the witches had told him to stop fighting.
Maybe surrender was his only option.
He caught the scent of a small pack and he saw what was going to happen to that pack in his mind’s eye. In this territory, they would be under Woolven protection, unless they managed to dark across the border.
The pack wasn’t infected as far as he knew, but that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part was that he didn’t want to fight it anymore.
If he surrendered, he wouldn’t have to bear witness to what this beast did.
And he’d finally be sated.
He tracked them now, using his superior predator’s skills. He could pick up more scents at a greater distance, he could see more than just heat signatures in the dark, and he could move faster than he’d ever dreamed.
It felt good and right to use these skills. It was like stretching after a long, restful sleep.
He ran them down, these hapless wolves.
Ran them down and burst upon them like a lion would a herd of injured gazelles.
He tore through them easily and with great pleasure. War noted one or two of them escaped, but that didn’t matter to him. In fact, it was good. Let them tell the story—his story. Let them carry it back to a hunter.
Or the council.
Then this would all be over and the rest of the pack would be safe.
The darkness pushed at his consciousness, and he realized it was locking him away. Pushing him down so he didn’t have to watch what came next.
He was a coward.
Warner Woolven was nothing like the story said. He was nothing like the wolf he thought he was or the wolf he wanted to be.
Stealing the Heiress Page 9