by Candy Nicks
"They won't come down, will they?"
Naima's breath hitched in her throat and when the wolf cried a second time, she jumped visibly.
Don't be scared, he said, aware that his spirit-form would not have the power to hold her in place if she chose to run. He so desperately wanted her to stay.
There had been few times in his life when he'd had control over his destiny. Choices had been made for him until he'd seized that one glorious moment and chosen freedom over a life of captivity. Now, with only instinct to guide him, he did it again and decided to take this gift she offered so freely.
Time to go back into his healing body and choose life.
* * * *
Naima gripped the edge of the bed and ordered herself to be calm. She wasn't afraid of the dark, and she'd grown up with the sound of wolves crying to the moons. They avoided humans and rarely came for the animals. Huge Canin-dogs, bred especially to protect the livestock, would see off any wolves stupid enough to take them on.
But when the howling became a crescendo and something growled, deep and low, she had to call on every reserve to hold steady and not bolt back to the house. Coming here at all, alone and in the dark, had been foolish enough. Now she had visions of the wolves creeping nearer, their amber eyes reflecting the twin moons. Circling the hut. Pressing their faces to the window.
"Oh Goddess!” The man's fingers, which had been lying limp in grasp, twitched and crushed hers in a grip that made her cry out in pain and surprise.
"Stay.” A low rasp. A desperate plea to match the fierce grip on her hand. This time, in a language she understood. “Stay. Please."
"Finn?” Her voice in the gloom sounded shaky and thin. His strength, even in his weakened state, astounded her and she remembered how he'd lifted her, one-handed.
"Let go,” she said. “You're hurting me."
"Stay.” His grip loosened a fraction.
"Finn, I will stay. You must let go, or you'll break my fingers.” She pulled at his clenched hand, to no avail. “Open your eyes,” she said. “Can you see in this light? Look, you're hurting me."
"Unchain me.” He ground out the words and snapped open his eyes. Twice he yanked at the restrain, grunting with the effort. His panic fuelled hers as he fought to free his arm.
"Finn,” she said on a sob. “If you hurt me my father will have you thrown into the cage. You don't want that.” In desperation, she sank her teeth into the back of his hand.
"No. No cage."
The bite had little effect, but the word cage threw him into a renewed frenzy of pulling at the chains. He seemed determined to break his arm rather than suffer the restraint. He growled, low in his throat, curling back his lips to bare his teeth. Naima froze, realising how naïve she'd been to come here alone.
It happened so fast, she barely had time to register the change. Or what she'd actually seen. Finn reared up, his shadowed face a mask of anguish. The image changed to that of a beast, teeth and fur and flashing amber eyes. Then she was flying across the room and slamming into the wall.
She lay still for a moment, breathing through the pain in her shoulder and hand. Had a wolf come down from the ridge and somehow sneaked into the room?
"Finn?” she said, glancing with trepidation at the bed, which, thankfully, contained only the man she'd nursed so diligently. “Finn, what's happening?"
He lay, staring at the ceiling, sucking in desperate breaths. One arm thrown across his eyes. The sheet had fallen from the bed exposing a body wasted by injury and lack of food. Where was he finding this other-worldly strength?
The other arm hung loosely from the bed, the manacle and short length of chain dangling from the wrist. Naima pressed back into the wall, cradling her bruised hand. Warily, she eyed the broken chain. How would she hide that from her father?
"Naima?” She saw Finn searching the gloom, his head lifted from the pillow. An edge of fear added to the concern in his voice.
"Naima, did I hurt you?"
"I think a wolf somehow broke into the room. I don't know how. It scared me."
"Where are you? Let me know you're all right."
It could be a trap. Her father's words echoed in her mind. She'd scorned them, but now they sounded like good advice.
"I'm here,” she said. “By the window. Can you see me?"
"Move into the shade. I see better in the dark. Tell me I didn't hurt you."
"You didn't. Only my hand ... you grabbed my hand..."
"I lost control. Didn't mean to hurt you.” Finn lifted the wrist bearing the broken restraint and held it close to his eyes. It clanked softly and she heard him sigh on a long exhaled breath. “You'll tell your father?"
"No. But he'll find out if we don't replace the restraint. Please don't get agitated. If we don't replace it, he'll have you caged. I'm sorry, he just wants to keep us all safe."
"He's right to worry. Does he know?"
"Know what? Finn, what are you?"
"I think you've worked it out."
"I'm having trouble believing it."
He laughed in response. A hollow sound lacking in mirth that culminated in a spasm of coughing. “Most people do."
Staying in place took all of her reserves. Somehow, in the frenzy, he'd torn his bandages. They clung to his scabbing chest-wound in tattered strips. She longed to creep nearer and fix them for him. To look into those eyes once more.
"The pain is bad?” she asked.
"Yes. Yes, it hurts."
Statement, or cry for help? It sounded so much like both that she stood and took a tentative step towards him. She had the means to ease his pain. In more ways than one. And she wanted to, despite her earlier fright.
Gone was the rose-tinted view that had coloured her care of him so far. She'd been falling in love with a fantasy and escape from marriage with Kandar. Now, before her, lay the reality—an intoxicating combination of man and beast, both fascinating and frightening. Instead of running in terror, she felt drawn to him as if by an invisible thread that with every passing moment grew shorter and shorter.
"Do you trust me?” His gaze remained fixed on her, unblinking, intent.
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you. Do you have me in thrall?” Those eyes certainly had the ability to mesmerise.
"If I could do that, I'd have been free long ago."
So he had been a prisoner. Did this mean he presented a danger to others? Were people looking for him? She had so many questions to ask him.
"Yes,” she said. “I trust you."
"Show me you do. I need to know.” He extended a hand to her.
Unconsciously, she flexed the fingers he'd gripped to the point of pain. Her gaze flickered over his naked body, the startling realisation that he was fully erect, warning her of the other dangers lying in wait. If she took his hand, she would be consenting to more than trust between them. His eyes followed hers, his expression intensifying to a challenge.
"Make your decision,” he said. “Or leave now."
In the township, a bell chimed out the hour. The wolves had grown silent, as if waiting, with him, for her to decide. Wrapped in the quiet shade of the night, Naima saw more clearly than she ever had.
"I can't resist you,” she said. Their fingertips touched.
"Do you want to?” He brushed the pad of his thumb over her palm.
"No.” She was stepping off a cliff, into the unknown, just as she had when she'd leapt in front of her father's horse eight years back. Her fingers curled around Finn's, offering him her trust and faith, too. His look of gratitude and wonder had her flying to him, the last of her doubts crumbling to dust. With her free hand, she cupped his cheek and sealed the commitment with a kiss.
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Chapter 5
She had the sweetest mouth. Already aroused to the point where she'd offer little resistance if he took her, swiftly, before the voice of reason intruded. He sensed her innocence conflicting with an eagerness to know more.
Des
pite his injuries, the flesh was willing, his hard cock straining to the point of bursting to find release. The kiss intensified, gentle fingers grazed his scalp. He heard the clack of the wooden beads threaded into his hair, the hitch in her breathing and he lay still, listening to her body language. The kiss, both consent and plea, felt like an invitation.
"Naima.” He broke away, holding her at arm's length. With an anguished moan, she bent her head for another kiss, this time demanding he respond.
"No,” she said. “Don't tell me this can't be. Nothing is impossible. Kiss me back."
She had no idea how impossible it was. Did she realise he was already seduced and under her spell? Or have any idea of the consequences? She'd asked him if he had her in thrall. He should ask her the same question. Why else was he lying here utterly at her command responding to her persuasive kisses with the same rising intensity? He wanted more than her trust.
His spirit-self had been free, articulate. Confident. But, for all that, merely a ghost with no real power to affect the world. Now, back in his body, Finn found himself shackled by the burden of doubt and the memories of his past. And by an all-consuming need to be wanted and loved. The revelation startled him. Burying his face in Naima's hair, he inhaled deeply and allowed himself the fantasy. Outside of this room, only Carine knew what he was. Would she keep their secret? Or would she use it as leverage to make him find her precious Soul Cleansing Stones?
Naima rubbed her hair over his face. Sat up on the edge of the bed and un-braided her thick plait. She took his hand and pushed his fingers through the smooth strands to loosen them. They trailed over his skin like the touch of soft feathers. Cool, like the sleek silk of the scarlet cloak worn by one of his tormentors. The memory of his dead uncle, his throat open and torn, returned unbidden, flashing into Finn's mind. Reminding him that he would never be a normal man.
Finn narrowed his eyes and pushed the vision away, focusing his meagre resources on the reality of Naima, perched on the edge of the bed unbuttoning her jacket. Sliding it from her shoulders. He lifted a hand and traced the outline of her mouth with his finger. She caught it in hers and placed a languid, open-mouthed kiss on his palm, causing him to groan and thrust vainly with his hips. He wanted to come. He also wanted her to keep on with this slow seduction. She sucked one of his fingers into her mouth and licked it with her tongue, subconsciously mimicking something much more primal.
His eyes glowed, the wolf pushing forward to sneak a better look at this angel who'd fallen from Paradise right at his feet. Her lack of fear gave him the control he'd always fought for in the act of mating and allowed him to see her as clearly as his spirit-self had.
"You have beautiful eyes, Finn.” She dropped light kisses onto his trembling eyelids, making him growl with pleasure. She tensed at the sound. Relaxed. Kissed him again to show she wasn't afraid.
"You too,” he said and held her still to memorise her face. To anchor himself to life, his spirit needed to stay within the confines of this fragile shell of a body with all its limitations. The wolf saw clearly. The man did not. He could only control his wolf around those who accepted him as he was. He traced the tilt of her nose, the light scattering of freckles on her cheek. He already knew her mouth. Her eyes were a soft grey—the same eyes as her father's. Only where his held only suspicion, hers held compassion.
Outside the window, a night-bird cried out for its mate. With the wolf's sharpened senses to the fore, Finn heard the beat of its wings, the shuffle of small creatures scurrying through the grass. Down in the valley, people breathed, and slept and made love. On the walls, a solitary guard paced away the hours.
In the small mountain hut, Finn gazed at the woman who'd brought him back from the dead and wished the night would last forever.
"You need to rest,” Naima said, mistaking his quiet contemplation for fatigue. She slid from the bed reaching for her jacket. “Let me fix your bandages. I'll return tomorrow night."
"No. Don't go.” He resisted the urge to grab her and hold her in place. Keeping her by force would be too easy. “This time may never come again. Stay a while longer. Touch me. I want to feel your hands on me."
"You do?” The jacket dropped to the floor. Naima bit her lip and reached out a shaking hand. “Here?” Her fingers skimmed his hip.
He didn't have the strength to keep his wolf forward. It moved back, taking with it the ability to see clearly. No matter. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on the slide of her fingers exploring his skin, moving over his thigh. His hips jerked, seeking her out. When they brushed over his cock and gently circled him, he thrust into her hand, seeking relief, and urged her on.
"Harder,” he said, on a gasping breath. “Touch me harder. Make me come. Like this.” He rolled onto one elbow with a groan that was part pain, part pleasure. Covering her hand with his, he squeezed and pumped, releasing her when she found the rhythm.
He slumped back onto the bed, eyes open, wishing he could see her face as she brought him to a shuddering climax. She was a dark shape standing by the bed, lips parted, chest heaving, hair swaying. Whatever happened, he'd never forget this—the first time sex had been more than a desperate attempt to feel something other than the emptiness of his captivity. She turned to him and he made out her shy, slightly disbelieving smile as he rocked against her hand. He already wanted her to do it again.
"Will you touch me?” she said. “Shall I show you what to do?"
He'd thought himself experienced, and almost laughed aloud at the notion that she needed to show him anything. She took his hand, guiding it to her. Showing him that, despite the many women in his past, he was as much a novice as she when it came to pleasuring.
Soft and giving, topped by hardened buds—he remembered the feel of her breasts from their first kiss. She moved his hand from one to the other, pushing them to fit inside his curled palm. Under her guidance, his fingers followed the line of buttons down the front of her shirt, trailed over the waistband of her pants, letting him learn her bit by bit. For her, a gradual awakening. For him, slow torture. This should not be rushed, yet they had no time for leisurely exploration.
The thought made him push his fingers between her legs, too roughly, the heel of his hand pressed firmly against her mound. If she never came back, he would go crazy with wondering how it would have been between them. She gave a small startled gasp and picked up his rhythm with slow undulations of her body. Clumsily, he searched for the fastenings, desperate to touch her flesh. She helped him, sliding buttons through holes, pushing the pants low on her hips.
She was so ready. Slick and wet. Coming, with short, panting breaths, even before he'd found the sweet spot that made her exhale sharply and call out his name in supplication. Or was it surrender? Gripping the edge of the bed, she let her head fall forward, her hair cover him. Hot, moist breath warmed his shoulder. Her lips pressed to his skin.
"If I was whole, I wouldn't be able to stop.” He brought his slippery fingers to his mouth. Tasted her. Inhaled her delicious scent.
"I wouldn't want you to."
Usually his climax signalled his withdrawal; he'd never needed more, or wanted to prolong the act the way he did now. Naima needed reassurance and he simply wanted her near him. Awkwardly, he reached around and pulled her as close as she would allow.
"I don't want to hurt you,” she said, twisting away from his injured chest.
"It's healing, having you here like this."
"I know. I wish I could stay."
The inevitable withdrawal. They never stayed. And no matter how much he resented that, he couldn't blame them.
"You'll come back?"
She pressed into him, for a fraction. “How could I stay away?"
"I want to live, Naima."
"Yes, do. Please live."
She hadn't truly understood his meaning. He didn't only want to live. He wanted a life. A future. She lifted her head, a blurred shape, hovering before his eyes. The lighter it became, the less he saw of her.
&nbs
p; "I must go. Dawn will break soon. You look spent. Close your eyes and rest."
His eyes. They'd give him away the moment he opened them. The last drops of energy drained from him.
"I'll find you some eyeshades. We can say your eyes were injured and need protection from the sun. That way..."
"No one will know what I am?"
"I'm sorry, Finn. I wish I could tell you that everyone will see you as I do. I'll find a replacement for the broken manacle."
"Don't be sorry. It's no more than I expect."
"We'll work it out, somehow."
He heard the swish of her hair, the sound of fabric sliding over skin. Footsteps on the wooden floor.
Nervous excitement came off her in waves.
With an optimistic spring in her step, she moved around the room, erasing the evidence of their tryst. A wet cloth caressed his cock, his stomach and thighs. She wound new bandages around his chest. The cool sheet and a heavier blanket covered him. He knew she needed to go, so he remained compliant and quiet and let her put him and the room to rights.
When she crept from the hut after one last kiss, he felt bereft and fought the urge to slip from his body to stand in limbo at the window and watch her pick her way down the mountain road to the Settlement.
To live, he needed to stay in his body and bear the pain. Bury the beast and concentrate on rebuilding the man. A man who could love a woman. Provide for her...
As he drifted into sleep, the impossible became the possible. He dreamed of benevolently smiling faces, Naima, radiant with happiness, walking towards him. The road before them, wide and smooth, leading to a future filled with promise. As always, the dream darkened. Behind her stood a man bearing a gun, a sword sheathed at his back.
"I'll find you,” the man mouthed and calmly levelled the weapon. Finn ducked, twisting away to be confronted by Carine, arms outstretched. Imploring, her face twisted in agony.
"No!” He awoke slick with his sweat, sucking in harsh breaths. “I've given enough,” he cried to the empty room. “Don't ask me for any more. Redemption be damned. I've given enough."
