“Is she one of the Sisterhood?” Dax asked.
“Most likely.”
Dax moved to the side of the bed and laid his large palm on her forehead. “Vampires?”
“Dominic.” Adrian gritted his teeth. His Alpha wolf paced anxiously at Dax touching her. The werebear was not technically one of his pack. Dax had been adopted in when he’d shown up, half-dead and with no memory, almost three years prior.
“That explains a lot.” Dax shook his head. “Paulo will heal.”
Adrian nodded but wasn’t listening. He watched the simple rise and fall of her chest. Her breathing’s strong, which is a good sign. “Where the hell is Hanna?” he fumed.
“I’m here, your highness.” Hanna stepped into the room.
Adrian motioned her to the bed.
“I’ll find you something to eat.” Dax exited.
Hanna looked down at the girl. “Oh my, it’s Red!” She hastily threw her bag to the floor and removed Redlynn’s cloak. “What happened to her?”
Hanna’s eyes turned to Adrian, but he dare not tell her the truth. “You know her then?”
“Her full name is Redlynn. Her ancestors took over as Heads of the Order after your mother passed. She was young when I left, maybe only thirteen.”
“And her parents?”
“She had a hard life before her father disappeared.” Hanna pulled items out of her bag, setting them on the nightstand. “Her mother tried to tell the truth about the Sisters being wolf mates. I’m not sure how she found out.”
“What happened to her?”
“She was denounced. The council assumed her husband’s disappearance caused a mental break. She was never the same after that.”
Hanna removed the strip of cloak tying Redlynn’s arm to her side, and pulled down her blouse.
“M’lord!” Hanna looked over her shoulder at him. “She has the mark.”
“I know,” Adrian replied.
“We never knew. How were we never told? But that means–” A smile spread across Hanna’s face as she clasped her hands together and raised her gaze to the heavens. “The gods be praised. The time has come when we’ll all be reunited.”
The gods have nothing to do with it. Adrian had long given up on the idea of the gods stepping in to help any of them.
Hanna pulled Redlynn’s blouse open further, inspecting the wound. “I’m sorry to ask you M’lord, but I need water and a towel so I may remove some of the blood.”
“I’ll do it.” Adrian moved swiftly into the adjoining bathing room and took a deep breath. His mind raced. A beautiful, half-naked woman lay in his bed. He’d never had a woman in his bed before. He stood in the doorway, unable to remember why he was in there. Think! Why did you come in here? Water! Towel!
He grabbed the items and took them out to Hanna, averting his eyes. Several minutes passed, and there was a moan from the bed. He turned and caught a glimpse of a perfectly rounded breast. He turned away again. “Is she alright?”
“The wound is deep, and fernblend has dried into it. I’ll apply a clean dressing and some salve to help stave off infection. Her shoulder appears to be at an odd angle, but until I can inspect her further, I won’t know the extent of her injuries. She needs rest. I can have her moved–”
He should just tell Hanna to take Red down to the other wing. He had no interest in becoming attached to her. Especially since he had no intention of being the one she chose. “She’ll stay here, I have a dozen rooms in this wing to choose from.”
Hanna’s face softened, and she gave him a knowing look. “That’d be best, M’lord. I’ll return in the morning.”
Adrian glanced at the painting above the fireplace: his mother, Irina, with her long raven hair, and his father, Sven, standing proudly beside her. For a fleeting moment, he ached for his mother’s comfort and his father’s wise counsel. Long had it been since he’d heard his parents’ voices.
It wouldn’t matter, Adrian thought, looking into his mother’s face. She was the one who did this in the first place.
He ran his hands over his face and hair, trying to forget the ghosts of his past.
Hanna secured Redlynn’s arm, picked up the bowl of blood-tinged water and towels and her bag. Tenderness crossed her soft face.
“I’ll bring her some clothing when I return. Tomorrow she needs to bathe.”
“She has a bag. I don’t know what is in it, though. Blain has it.”
“I’ll get that as well, then.”
“Thank you, Hanna. Tell your mate, Fendrick, I appreciate his letting me borrow you.”
Hanna laughed to herself and nodded. “I’ll be sure to let him know. Good night, your highness.”
“Adrian.”
Hanna hesitated and then nodded. “Prince Adrian.”
Chapter Four
Redlynn whipped her head from side to side. Where am I? Pain exploded in her neck; she tried to reach up with her left arm, but it was pinned to her stomach. It’d been strapped in place by a strip of red cloth. Why am I half-naked? Her tunic and cloak were gone. So was her locket. Redlynn looked around frantically for her locket. Pain hit her in waves, confusing her and forcing her to breathe deeply.
Trying to process her surroundings, the fight with the Weres flooded back to her. Shockingly, it seemed she wasn’t dead, she was alive, and in someone’s very richly furnished bedroom. She wiped at her face with her right hand, her vision muddled.
Stone-walls surrounded the large, mahogany, four-poster bed she lay upon. Dark, heavy curtains were partially drawn at the end of the bed. On either side, two ancient and beautiful nightstands held ornately carved glass oil lamps. A fire crackled, its golden glow peeking in the gaps of the curtains.
Redlynn maneuvered herself to the side of the bed and set her feet on the floor. It was colder than her wooden planks at home. Slowly she scooted off the downy mattress and tried to steady herself on one of the posts. She weakened, the blood draining from her head, her legs wobbling beneath her.
On the floor lay her cloak. She stooped to pick it up but lost her balance. At the last minute, she braced herself on the stone-wall to avoid it colliding with her face. Taking a deep breath, she steadied herself once more and slowly reached down for the cloak, pressing herself into the stone for support. It took her several minutes to get the clasps buckled so that she was covered almost to her waist.
By the time she finished, her body shook like she’d tried to pull a wagon by herself. A bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. Sucking in a deep breath, she tried to clear her mind and listen for sounds. A faint rhythmical buzzing came from somewhere near the fire. Pushing past the end of the bed, she saw a large man asleep at a table.
His head was tilted to the side, and long, wavy black hair fell over his eyes and chiseled features. His robust form was set with broad shoulders and a powerfully built frame. He’d fallen asleep in his linen shirt and breeches, with his boots still on. A flutter settled in her stomach and the same surge of energy she got before a fight. The buzzing sound was the man snoring lightly. What was he doing there?
Confused, Redlynn wasn’t sure if it was her fighting instincts kicking in, or something else altogether. Part of her wanted to know what his lips would feel like on hers. Another part wanted to run.
What the hell is wrong with you? You’d think you’d never seen a man before.
She hadn’t. Not a man like him. She'd seen plump farmers. And droopy-eyed workers. She'd seen lopsided smiling drunkards and expressionless vagabonds. She'd seen tall men, short men, thin men and fat men. But never in her life had she seen a man who exuded power like it was his own personal commodity.
Redlynn swallowed hard and scanned for an exit. She spotted it on the far left of the room. She'd have to walk past the man to get to it. The sleeping man didn’t look like he was guarding her, but why would he be in the same room with her, if he weren’t? She skimmed the room for her things. Her pack, bow, and quiver were nowhere to be found. Dammit. She wondered if
they'd been left back where she'd set up camp. If she were going to break out, she needed a weapon.
On the table lay a tray with an empty plate, a knife, fork, and spoon. Redlynn's gaze lit on the knife. She inched toward it, her heart hammering. The closer she got to the man, the more drawn she was to him. She stopped a foot from the table and caught the faint scent of leather and tallow soap.
Keep it together! He’s only a man, and apparently your guard. For all you know, he could be a murderer!
She slid her good hand across the polished wooden surface. As she reached for the knife, her collarbone burned with pain. A jolt shot through her neck and she stumbled, tripping over her cloak and crashing into the plate.
The man was up in an instant, his chair clattering to the ground. Redlynn grabbed the knife and held it out in front of herself, backing away. It took him a moment for the sleep to leave his eyes. He stared at her, not moving.
Redlynn's mouth fell open slightly and her hands shook like a cornered rabbit.
He had golden eyes.
“Your... your eyes,” she whispered.
“What’s wrong with them?”
“They... They’re gold.”
“They’re brown.”
“No. No, they aren’t.” She shook her head. “They’re golden… just like–”
“Like yours,” he murmured.
Redlynn nodded, her head fuzzy, and her knees wobbly. She blinked several times. His eyes were brown. They had golden flecks in them, but they were definitely brown. Had it been a trick of the firelight?
“You’ve had a bad wound. You should rest.”
“I... I have to leave. I have something I need to do.”
“Do you remember what happened?”
She fought to keep the panicky edge out of her voice. “Where am I?”
“In Wolvenglen.”
“Who in their right mind would live in Wolvenglen? Don’t you know there are Weres out here?”
“Please, put down the knife.” He motioned to the knife Redlynn had forgotten she was pointing at him.
She glanced at it and weighed it in her hand. It was solid. Her hunting knife was more substantial, but she could make do with it if need be.
“Where are my things? I need to go.”
“Hanna, our healer, will bring them in the morning when she comes to check on you again, and bring you a change of clothes.”
Still holding the knife, she reached up and touched her collarbone, underneath her cloak. A bandage covered the wound. It was tender. Peeling it away, she assessed what she could see of the damage.
“I wouldn’t do that,” he warned.
Redlynn gave him a hard stare and went back to inspecting the wound. She stuck her fingers in the salve and rolled it between her thumb and forefinger, smelling it.
“Comfrey and calendula.” Pulling at the green leaves, she winced as they ripped a piece of skin and seeped. Smelling the leaves, she put them in her mouth and chewed them before spitting them out. “Fernblend. Did she do that?”
“No, I did.”
“Don’t you know you have to keep it wet?”
“I thought saving your life was more important,” he bit back. “You were in bad shape when I got to you.”
“Well when I scrub it off, I am going to wish I were dead."
They stared at each other for several minutes. Now awake his aura of power had only increased. He was as tall as the doorway and almost as wide. His face was chiseled and hard angles while his eyes held both calculation and concern. But for all of his bravado, nothing about him held malice.
"How did you find me?” she finally asked.
"I saw the fire." He took a deep breath. His eyes softened. “I was trying to help you. It was one of the few things I remember my mother teaching me about herbs.”
“Your mother’s a healer?”
“Was. Now, will you please lie down before you pass out? You lost a lot of blood.”
“I’ve had worse,” Redlynn lied. “I need to get my things and be on my way.”
“You need to rest. You can barely hold that knife, let alone walk through the forest.”
“I’ll be fine.”
He stepped out of her way. “Very well. You are free to leave.” He motioned to the door.
Was this a jest? Was he really going to let her go? Gripping the knife, she took several steady steps toward the exit before her knees buckled. He caught her around the waist, sending a shockwave of tingles through her body.
His musky scent mixed in her nostrils and her head lightened again. His body wasn’t just warm, it was hot; he was a fire in his own right.
“Let go,” she said softly.
“I was merely keeping you from further injuring yourself.”
His light blue tunic opened in a “v” and his chiseled, hairless chest peeked out beneath. Her eyes locked with his. He hadn’t shaven in a day or two; the whiskers looked ruggedly good on him. The butterflies in her stomach danced and spun. His face was so close as he studied her features. His face wore an expression she’d never seen aimed at her before. Desire.
“Please, let go,” she choked, her voice raw with tension.
He continued to stare at her for a moment more, and then swooped her into his arms as if she were a child. She stiffened at the press of his body against hers.
Her heart boomed. A man had never held her before.
“Let go of me.” She pushed at his chest and tried to twist from his grip. The movement made her dizzy again.
“Stop, before I drop you,” he said. He pushed the curtains aside and laid her where she’d started.
Redlynn’s mind whirled as she lay on the bed. The scent of his skin lingered near her. She swallowed hard. He’d touched her. No man had ever wanted to touch her before.
Prying the knife from her hand, he set it on the nightstand and stepped away. “You have no need of a weapon here. No one will hurt you. I promise.”
He stood feet away, but oddly it felt too far. Her reaction to him made no sense, but she wanted him holding her, in the large bed. She said nothing. Stepping forward again, he pulled the sheet and coverlet over her. She shrunk away from his touch.
“I'm not going to hurt you. Why won't you believe me?”
“How do I know that? Here I am in a strange house, in someone else’s bed, no less.”
“Because you have my word.”
“And what is that to me? I don’t even know your name.” She should be grateful for being saved from the wolves, but being in a place where she didn’t know anyone set her on edge. She’d never seen such finery.
"I'm Adrian." A slight smile played on his lips. “You must be thirsty. I’ll get you a drink.”
If he left, she might be able to escape.
“But only if you promise not to try and leave again.”
Her gaze met his, and her eyes narrowed. How had he known? She wanted to get out and get back to her task at hand. The Weres needed to pay for the pain they’d caused. First to Anya, now to her. She shifted and her arm shot pain up the side of her neck. Waiting a few more hours wouldn't kill her.
“I’ll wait till after your healer arrives.”
His eyes searched hers. He nodded, and then turned to leave and paused, pulling something from his pocket. “I found this, is it yours?” He held up the locket.
Relief flooded her. He’d found it! She reached out with her good arm. “Thank you. It was my mother’s.”
He stepped in close before she could protest and refastened the clasp behind her neck. “I had a new clasp put on it for you. The other one was broken.”
She inhaled his soothing musky scent. She swallowed hard. He was touching her again.
When he stepped away, she said, “Thank you. It was the only thing my father ever gave her. In all my life, I’d never seen her take it off. I almost let them burn her with it, but in the end, I just couldn’t.” Redlynn ran her fingers over the locket engraved with a wolfsbane flower.
“My father
once gave my mother something similar. She said it was her most prized possession. She used to carry around a lock of my hair and my father’s hair in it.”
He watched her for a moment with an expression she couldn’t read and then walked out of the room.
After he was gone, she took a deep breath. What the hell was that? She hadn’t even asked him who he was.
Settling into the pillow, Redlynn closed her eyes. His scent lingered on the bedding. The room had to be his. Panic stirred inside her. What if he planned to try and force her into sex? She eyed the knife he’d taken from her, and then grabbed it and pulled it under her cape. He’d said no one would hurt her, but who was he? Why should she trust his word?
But his eyes. His deep brown eyes had held desire for her when he’d caught her. And he smelled so good. Just the thought of his tightly bunched muscles surrounding her and carrying her to the bed was enough to make her want more. Somehow when he touched her, all she’d wanted was more. Warmth settled between her legs that was both uncomfortable, and begging to be satisfied. She twitched in her breeches and rubbed her thighs together. Redlynn grumbled. That was not helping.
It’s the blood loss, she decided. It had to be. No woman in her right mind, especially this woman, would ever be that attracted to a man at first sight.
Sucking in a deep breath, she gripped the handle of the knife tightly. Tomorrow would be different. She’d be on her way. Back to the forest to hunt the beasts she’d come for, and leave all thoughts and desires for her captor behind.
Her eyes are gold. Adrian couldn’t wrap his head around it. Her eyes were golden like his when he changed. How was it possible? And how was it that they were golden? It was because she was the one from the prophecy. It meant nothing. But the way she’d looked at him; so desperate, and defiant, but no fear. He would’ve smelled her fear like moldy bread. She was strong. The strongest he’d met. And full of pain, both physical and emotional.
Red the Were Hunter (Fairelle Series Book 1) Page 4
