Playing With Fire

by Adrienne Woods et al.

  Patrick moved a little closer and growled softly, encouraging her to go on.

  “For two years, I studied the atrocities men committed. In the name of my studies with my tutor, I visited prisons and asylums, spoke to lawmen and doctors, and visited the slums.”

  Silent tears now flowed from her blue eyes, her face pale.

  “Then, on my eighteenth birthday, I had another dream. This one was different. It was all violence and judgment. All I recall from it is black wings and blood. I was disturbed afterwards, and my parents treated me with apprehension. I met you not long after.”

  Angelica remained silent then, and Patrick nudged her with his nose for her to continue.

  “I would dream … often. I would see men doing their filthy acts,” she swallowed hard, a grimace on her face, “to the innocents. See the blood, the tears, the pain. And I would dream of vengeance. Dream of what should befall those wicked men for their heinous acts.”

  Angelica put her face into her hands and sobbed. Patrick leaned into her, nuzzling her neck with his wet nose. Gratefully, she flung her arms around him and cried. He waited.

  “When I woke up from one of those dreams,” she eventually continued, “I always felt drained. So weak, I could not get out of bed in the morning. It would take me hours to get ready.”

  She stroked his head, and Patrick found his tail wagging again - a reaction he had little control over.

  “My father would always bring the news of the murder. Who it was, how it was done. I was shocked, of course, and frightened. I was convinced that my dreams were controlling the beast. I was the one who pushed my father to find it; to do everything in his power.”

  Patrick dipped his head again, letting her know he understood. How he wished she would let him change, so he could hold her, comfort her.

  “The only reason I kept my sanity throughout all of this was that I had you. I thought the more time I spent with you, the more love and beauty I saw in the world, the less influence I would have over the beast. But, in the end, it became stronger.” Angelica squeezed him and ruffled his fur. “You, though, you saw through me, didn’t you? Those questions you asked me, they were to draw me out, to make me remember. I don’t know how you knew, for even I did not. You are very brave, Patrick, for I could easily have killed you.”

  Patrick growled; his body trembling, ready for the change.

  “It was my love for you that stopped me from killing you, and I saw no sin in your past.” She laughed. “Not the evil kind of sin, anyhow.”

  Patrick whined, hanging his head in shame.

  “I do not know what I am, Patrick, what I am evolving into. I do not know what kind of danger I pose to the people of Ashford. I have already killed my father; although he rightly deserved such. Patrick, I am scared. I am afraid that I am turning into a monster I will not be able to control. I am afraid you will stop loving me.”

  Testing the alpha command Angelica had him, Patrick shook free of her tenuous hold and shrugged out of her embrace. She had seen him change before, and he now changed in full view of her again.

  Angelica looked at him with wonder when he stood before her naked, still trembling from the pain. Kneeling, he came to sit before her.

  “I will always love you, Angelica, and we will face this together, whatever may come.”

  Patrick wrapped her in his arms, and she pressed her wet cheeks against his bare chest.

  “What if they find out?” she mumbled against him.

  They would kill her; he was sure of it. If the wolf council caught wind of such a strong supernatural among them, it would leave them with no other choice. Patrick pressed Angelica closer to his chest.

  “They will not find out, Angelica. I will keep you safe, I promise.”

  “Do you swear it, Patrick?” She looked up at him.

  “I swear it.” He leaned down to kiss her.

  A hundred thousand questions ran through Patrick’s mind, but they could wait now that he held Angelica in his arms. She was soft and pliant to his touch and responded willingly to his kisses.

  His young, virile body responded as any man’s would to such a woman, and it did not matter that he had seen her hovering in the air, veins tinged black as ink, with demon eyes. Patrick slid his right arm under her knees and picked her up. Angelica’s skirts brushed over his sensitive erection, making him moan as he carried her to the bed.

  They had never made love in a proper bed before, but now was not the time to explore its comforts. Wound up from the events of the last hour; they sought only relief.

  Hoisting Angelica’s skirts, he investigated her fold with his fingers, finding her already moist with desire. Without wasting another moment, he settled between her legs and drove himself in up to the hilt.

  Angelica cried out, pushing her hips up to meet him half-way. Her hands clawed at him, driving him on. As her pleasure mounted, her eyes darkened, and Patrick thrust harder.

  Being in this state - between the petite girl and the paranormal - Angelica could take everything Patrick could give. He let the wolf out. Thrusting and pounding, Patrick made her scream.

  Angelica bared her throat to him, arching her back, and he took her narrow hips with both hands and forced her onto him even harder.

  It was all he could bear as she yelled out his name. In one forceful cataclysm it all spilt out, and still, he thrust and thrust, as she heaved beneath him, finishing her own.

  “You were gone for a while,” Edward said. “Is everything all right at the manor?”

  “Yes, Father,” Patrick answered, his voice as even as he could keep it. “The servants have started raking the orchard. The orchardist believes that because of the fire, the trees will yield a better crop next year. We should see leaves upon the trees within a week.”

  Edward raised his eyebrows. “Is that so? Who would have thought?”

  “The maids have started taking the curtaining from the lower floors to be washed. It is a big house. I believe it will take several weeks before they can rid the manor of the smell of smoke.”

  “It will, indeed. How is Miss Angelica taking it?”

  “As can be expected, but she is strong. She will have to be, what with her mother unable to attend to matters.”

  The men both looked towards the stairs. Lillian had put Mary in one of the guest bedrooms upstairs, and Doctor Roy had sedated her.

  “Well, son, Dorien will be waiting,” Edward finally said. “Let us go.”

  The stable master had their horses ready for them, and it took them only twenty minutes to make the ride over to Dorien Lowell’s farm.

  “Everything we assumed we knew has proven to be false,” Dorien began. “I don’t even know where to begin next. We have no new leads; nothing to work from.”

  “Do we know what Lord Alaric’s crimes were?” Lloyd Randel asked.

  “We can only assume it was arson, although that seems unlikely. Ashford has not had a fire in years, at least not one in which people died,” Dorien answered.

  Patrick listened to the wolf council discuss their theories and wondered if they would notice if he withheld his advice. And, if he did contribute, how could he do so in a manner which would lead them away from Angelica?

  His biggest concern, however, was how to stop Angelica from killing again. If he could prevent it, and the murders ceased, he hoped the wolf council would abandon the hunt.

  “What if the next victim is innocent?” Patrick heard someone ask. “We have no proof that Lord Alaric was a criminal. He may have been killed simply because he was hunting the beast. We may all be in danger.”

  “Charles is right,” Richard said, “we cannot take any chances. That thing is out there and, for all we know, it is already hunting us. We need to tread with care now.”

  “Patrick,” Lawson addressed him, “you’ve been back to Ashford Manor. Is there anything you noticed that we might have missed?”

  The men assembled in the room turned to him, and Patrick steeled himself to their inquir
ing glances.

  “I have spoken with some of the servants, and they are all eager to restore the orchard and surrounds. Tomorrow, I’ll see that I speak with them again. Maybe I will gather more information on Lord Alaric.”

  “Yes, see that you do. There may be issues we do not know about the man; it might bring us closer to an answer,” Lawson replied, before turning his attention to his cousin.

  Patrick exhaled slowly. Lawson was shrewd, and a great lawman. Of all the wolves present, Patrick feared him the most. He would have to watch Lawson closely.

  “Edward,” Dorien called Patrick’s father, “what about Alaric’s estate? How is that being handled?”

  “I have already informed the notaries, and the legalities will be written up within the next two weeks. The estate passes to his only heir, Angelica, as does his wealth. Lord Alaric had no debt.”

  “Do you remain in their employ?” Dorien asked.

  “Miss Angelica has asked me to stay on to handle her affairs, yes.”

  “Very well, at least that is taken care of, then,” the mayor said. “Father Smith will hold the service for Lord Alaric on Sunday.”

  Patrick admired Dorien. He was the mayor of the town and the head of the wolf council - at fifty-three years of age, that made him one of the youngest leaders ever.

  Considering wolves could live to over two hundred years, some thought Dorien but a pup, yet they respected the decisions he made. Dorien had worked hard for the position he was in and had earned the respect shown to him.

  It was decided not to hunt for the beast that night. So far, it had never struck within the same week of an attack, and neither did they have any leads to go on. Instead, they decided it was time for a pack run. This had not taken place in Ashford in almost thirty years, and it would be Patrick’s first.

  Leaving their horses behind, the men walked out into the forest as the moon already stood high in the dark sky. A soft early-summer breeze blew through the trees, bringing the smell of rain.

  Once deep within the woods, the men went through their various rituals of change. Patrick had only ever seen his father and his uncle change and knew their habits well.

  Soon, a growling, bristling pack of werewolves crouched within the forest, snapping impatiently at each other. Alpha voices boomed out, settling the younger ones until Dorien howled.

  Although not their alpha, the pack recognised Dorien as their pack leader, and the wolves settled down reluctantly, snarling.

  Patrick’s fur bristled with so much competition around him, and he bared his teeth at those closest to him. To Patrick’s surprise, they stayed away from him.

  Dorien howled again, two short, deep howls, and he ran off, taking the lead.

  The rest of the wolves fell in behind in the order of their ranking, with the alpha wolves behind Dorien, and the elder wolves behind the alphas. The rest of them shuffled for positions, biting and snapping to make their presence felt.

  Patrick ran unmolested behind the last elder, while the others quibbled about their status. His hackles raised every time another wolf came close, but no one dared to challenge him.

  Chapter 15

  She looked so innocent. The air blew back Angelica’s dark hair, and she laughed as they cantered towards Ashford Manor.

  Taking care of her mother while at Blakesley Manor drained Angelica; she did not know how to deal with her mother’s strange state of mind. The moment Patrick took Angelica out of that environment, she blossomed again, daring him with horse races to the manor, and laughing all the way.

  For three days they had kept to this routine now, and every day it was easier for Angelica to return home. She had no dreams while at the Blakesley home and was calm during the day.

  Patrick spent his days at Ashford Manor speaking to the servants and overseeing the rebuilding of the fences around the orchard. Angelica directed the cleaning of the house. Edward joined them every afternoon to work on the books, but he never stayed longer than an hour or two.

  It was soon clear to Patrick that the servants adored Angelica; all hurried to do her bidding. They had once shown the same love for Angelica’s mother. Lord Alaric, on the other hand, was not missed by the servants. It appeared that many a male child now smiled, where they had cowered before at the mention of their master’s name.

  Jasper took their horses from them when they arrived at the manor, and Patrick and Angelica climbed the steps together. People were becoming accustomed to seeing them together, and the servants certainly did not mind that they were unsupervised.

  “I think I shall have the carpenters knock out the wall between my bedroom and the room adjacent to it. Then I can turn it into the master bedroom.”

  The passage echoed with their footsteps, as all the carpets had been removed to be cleaned.

  “My mother can keep her room, and I will turn my father’s into a guest room,” Angelica continued as they passed the doors.

  Servants followed in their footsteps, and Angelica gave her orders for the day as they moved through the house.

  After the house, they went to see the foreman in charge of the building around the orchard. The fence was almost complete, and Angelica’s pavilion was taking shape.

  “Ready?” Angelica asked after they had given the servants their orders.

  Taking her hand, Patrick led her to the narrow path that led towards the river. To their left, a thicket of raspberry bushes accompanied them, and to their right, a meadow of wildflowers stretched for half a mile to the edge of the forest.

  They reached the sandy river road, canopied by the trees to its left and right. Fresh within the shade, Patrick draped his arm around Angelica’s shoulders as they walked.

  “What if I won’t get better?”

  “Then we will figure it out together, my love.”

  Patrick reassured her every day, for every day, she questioned herself.

  “I have not dreamed since we have slept under the same roof together,” she commented, looking up at him through her eyelashes. “Maybe your influence keeps the dreams away.”

  He smiled. “We should spend all eternity sleeping together, then.”

  Angelica shrugged out of his embrace. “I am serious, Patrick. I do not want for the dreams to continue, and if your influence has anything to do with it, I expect you to make as much effort as I am.”

  “I meant no offence, Angelica. You know I wish nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with you, and for you to be happy. I will do whatever is in my power to help you deal with your affliction.”

  She returned to his arms, and they carried on walking; the boatshed was only another mile away.

  “Affliction,” Angelica mused. “You make it sound as if I have a common cold. I wish it were that easy.” She sighed.

  “Perhaps it could be,” Patrick said. “If we can determine what drives you to kill, maybe we can prevent it.”

  “We already know that, Patrick.” Angelica sounded exasperated, and Patrick didn’t push the matter.

  “Then we will focus on your sleep pattern,” he said instead. “If you can sleep easier, maybe the dreams will stop. We can try lavender under your pillow. My mother uses it to help her sleep.”

  “Yes, maybe.”

  They walked in silence for a while; the water playing over the stones in the river the only sound.

  Angelica’s pensive mood lifted when the boat shed came into view, and she laughed, taking Patrick’s hand to drag him after her along the path.

  “I have missed this place,” she sang, dancing up the stairs.

  Laughing, Patrick followed her and then shook out the blankets. It had only been a week, but already dust and leaves had settled everywhere.

  “Come here, my little minx,” Patrick joked and pulled her close. “Let me show you how much three days of abstinence has made me miss you.”

  The last time, it had been as the aftermath of their encounter with each other’s paranormal self. It had been rough, violent, and over quickly.
r />   Today, Patrick wanted to take his time, make it last. He tried to make her feel special, make her feel wanted. Today he would draw on everything he had ever been taught while on the Iberian Peninsula.

  Kissing her unhurriedly, Patrick undid the strings at the back of her dress. He did not know why women had to wear such elaborate clothing, but he was a master at taking them off. Angelica’s dainty hands found their way under his shirt, caressing him. His skin tingled at her touch.

  With the last pull of a satin string, Angelica’s rose-coloured dress slid to the floor. Patrick could see her erect nipples through the sheer undergarment she wore.

  Taking Angelica’s hand, he guided her to the mound of blankets and sat her down while he took off his boots and trousers. Patrick wasted as little time as possible on himself and was beside her again in a moment.

  “Turn around, my love,” he whispered in her ear.

  Angelica complied, turning onto her stomach, her face angled towards him, resting on her hands.

  Patrick lay beside her and tickled her back through the thin material of the undergarment. “I could be with you like this forever. No care in the world.”

  “Mm.”

  “It can be this way. We can make it happen, you’ll see.”

  Patrick continued to stroke her, easing her tension, and her worries. Angelica’s eyes closed, and he felt her relax beneath his touch. When her breathing became more even, Patrick moved his strokes lower, including her firm cheeks and the upper part of her legs in his caresses. Almost instinctively, Angelica’s legs spread slightly, but Patrick kept his attention on her back, and the top of her legs. Once Angelica’s body eased again, Patrick began to toy with her firm buttocks; pausing there purposefully every time he moved from her back to the legs, and back. She was soon breathing faster, arching her back in anticipation every time his hand travelled towards her rear. He did not give in.

  Leaning forward, Patrick kissed her face as he continued his stroking. His fingers tickled, and kneaded, and caressed - and left her wanting more. Angelica’s soft moans in his ears were hard to resist, yet they were his encouragement to keep going.