Lupine [Moon Child Series Book 2]

by Candy Nicks

  "Not about this. He needs to know about your indecorous behaviour with that fugitive.” Kandar pushed back his hair as if to smooth his ruffled feathers, composed now and in charge. “You were there without a chaperone. You, a maiden, alone with a strange man. You are still a maiden, aren't you?"

  "How dare you insinuate such a thing! I'm leaving, let me pass.” Sure that all her recent behaviour must be showing plainly on her face, she retreated behind her indignation. Kandar caught her arm as she attempted to barge past him.

  "Be careful of your reputation, Naima. I do this only for your own good. He's obviously a runaway. From what, we don't know. He could be a violent criminal. Tend him if you must. Just don't do it alone. I care for you. I always will."

  It had been more painful than she'd imagined. Hurt clouded his pale eyes as he struggled to shrug off her rejection.

  "I didn't mean to hurt you, Kandar."

  "Hurt? Me?” He stepped aside to let her pass. “I haven't given up hope of you coming to your senses. When our visitor dies, I will be here to comfort you and resume our relationship."

  "He's called Finn. And he's going to live."

  "Oh, he has a name now? Don't be so naïve. No normal human would survive those wounds."

  Normal? Why had he used that word? Naima took a step towards the door, her expression carefully neutral.

  "Why is everyone so surprised that he has a name?” She kept her tone light, despite wanting to shout aloud, of course he has a name. Why shouldn't he? “He muttered it in his sleep. And yes, I do know the extent of his injuries, I don't need a lecture, thank you.” She indicated the door. “Will you excuse me?"

  Kandar flung it open, with a flourish and a tight, formal bow. “You really think you can save him? With a bunch of herbs? Why is he so resistant to magic? That he has that kind of power concerns me greatly. He could be a dark mage, a warlock. I would like to know more of this man's background."

  "Yes, Kandar. I'm sure we will in good time.” Kandar, not renowned for his brevity, warmed to his subject.

  "If he has a name, he has a past. Whoever plugged him with the blaster-charge will be coming to finish the job. I don't suppose that's crossed your mind?"

  His smugness made her want to kick him. “Yes, of course it has,” she said and stepped out onto the rain-soaked path wondering how she had ever considered marriage to this man. A few distance rumbles of thunder rolled around the mountain peaks and the air was sharp and charged, almost too light to breathe. They said the spring storms brought a kind of madness and now she understood why. Blue lightning outlined the trees on the ridge. Its energy made her skin tingle. Made her want to race up the slope to Finn and revel in the sheer joy of having found her other half.

  "I'm just a woman,” she conceded. “I look to you and Father and the rest of the warriors to keep us all safe."

  "And so we shall.” Kandar squared his shoulders and acknowledged her deference to his manhood with a brief nod of gratitude. “Do not judge me too harshly, Naima. An Eagle warrior expects neither help, nor mercy from his country-men. I, myself, stood and watched your father taken by the slavers, knowing that to offer help would have shamed him beyond bearing. Had this been Eyrie, the injured man would have been left to fend for himself."

  "That's what my grandfather wanted for me.” The pain of finally acknowledging what she'd always known brought unexpected tears to her eyes. Kandar, for once, looked flustered.

  "I didn't mean..."

  "No.” Naima raised a conciliatory palm and backed away from him. “I understand you, regardless of whether I agree or disagree with you. I've said what I came to say. I'm sorry. My answer is no."

  She turned and ran along the path, away from the house he'd built for her and their children. He called after her.

  "Wait, I wrote a song in your honour. At least let me sing it to you."

  A song? “Sing it to yourself,” she called back and kept on running until she was out of his sight.

  Near to the stables, she stopped, leaning against a tree to catch her breath. The thought of having to stand and keep a straight face while Kandar sang of his love for her sent her off into laughter that made her sides ache. Tears coursed over her cheeks as the hysteria subsided and she remembered Kandar's words. Thank the Gods her father's captivity had at least taught him compassion.

  When the clouds opened, sending the rain down in a solid sheet, she dashed through the open stable door and shook herself out, shivering a little in the cool shade. She'd survived—why spend time worrying about what might have been?

  From one of the stalls, she heard the rhythmic sound of a horse being brushed, the low murmur of a male voice. She crept towards it, wiping away rain and tears from her face. Her father only half-joked when he said his horse was the only living creature who ever really listened to him. Ancel tossed the brush onto a shelf and patted the horse's neck, glancing round as she approached.

  "How did he take it?” He wiped his hands on his pants and reached for the jacket slung over the stall.

  "Bruised ego. Oh, he'll live.” She patted Bocado's large flank. The horse turned and eyed her hopefully. “Sorry,” she said. “I don't have anything for you."

  "Here, give him this.” Ancel pulled a dried apple from his pocket and handed it to her. She fed Bocado the treat and fended the animal off when it nuzzled for more.

  "Going soft, aren't you boy?” Ancel pushed the muzzle away. “Reduced to begging for treats from beautiful maidens."

  "Kandar spoke the vows."

  "Ahh."

  "And he tried to sing me a song."

  Ancel's mouth twitched. “He has it bad. So, what next?"

  "I suppose I'll just go on as I am.” She turned her attention back to the horse, too guilty to look her father in the eye. “Brynn's been talking of training as a doctor. Perhaps I'll go with him, learn some skills to bring back to the Settlement."

  "You want to leave us?"

  She caught the panicked note in her father's voice. “Not forever, but I can only do so much with herbs and plants."

  Ancel laid a sympathetic hand on her shoulder and gently steered her from the stall. They stood in the open doorway waiting for the downpour to ease. “Kandar will get over it. I won't have this drive you away. Would you like me to speak with him?"

  "No. Father, he said had Finn made it to Eyrie, he would have been left to die."

  "And that bothers you?"

  "Of course it bothers me. Would you have let me die? If my grandmother hadn't intervened?"

  "You want the honest answer?"

  She watched Ancel stare out at the rain. Heard the uncertainty in his voice. She nodded, unable to speak.

  "I know what I'd do now. Back then? It's no excuse, but I was fifteen, an Eagle Warrior in training. Full of pride and arrogance. I knew no other way."

  Pushing would have been unfair to both of them. She understood, even if she didn't condone. Instead, she leaned on his arm and watched the rain, a little sad they'd missed so many years. She'd come to him a young woman, and would always be so, in his eyes.

  "I've long forgiven you,” she said. “Sometimes I think I'm dreaming and I'll wake up back in the old Settlement, with only Tragiria. I thank the Gods every day that you came for me."

  "I'm glad I found my senses. Don't be afraid to take what life offers you. Or to fight for what you want."

  "Even if it means others get hurt?"

  "Kandar will get over it."

  How could she tell him she wasn't talking about Kandar? Each little deception spawned another. A lie here, a convenient omission there.

  "Isn't that your friend?” Ancel nudged her out of the unhelpful thoughts. Running towards the barn came Lia, hands over her head as if they would save her from a soaking. They moved aside to allow her in.

  "Hello Ancel.” Lia gazed up at him, her eyes a little starry. Naima looked sideways at her friend, while Ancel flashed a wide smile and excused himself. Lia stared after him.

  "Your fa
ther is so handsome."

  "Lia, he's old enough to be your father too.” Naima put aside thoughts of a bath and bed and smiled apologetically at her friend, who was obviously bursting to tell her about Kandar.

  "I've been looking for you all day,” Lia said. “Thought you'd be dying to know about Kandar."

  "To tell the truth, I have a headache.” Naima pressed the heel of a hand to her forehead. “How did it go?"

  "Embarrassment doesn't begin to cover it.” Lia lifted her eyes heavenward and gave a rueful smile in return. “He guzzled all my berry-juice then had the nerve to lecture me on morals. Ordered me to cover up and save myself for my future husband. After he'd had a good ogle, of course."

  Expressing sorrow that nothing happened didn't seem appropriate. At least they'd averted this disaster.

  "That's what we get for messing with fate,” Naima said. “He'd have bored you to death, anyway."

  "Probably,” Lia replied flapping a hand. “Anyhow, Stefan has asked me to walk out with him. I'm considering it. You've told Kandar your decision?"

  "I've told him."

  Lia had enough sense to remain silent on the matter instead, proving her worth as a friend by keeping vigil to Naima's thoughts until the rain finally stopped. Their parting hugs and knowing glances spoke of a solidarity only another woman would understand. Was her pining for Finn so plainly written on her face that everyone in the Settlement knew how she felt?

  In the early hours of the morning, she awoke to the sound of Kandar's rich, slightly slurred, baritone singing of his love outside her bedroom window. Her only consolation, that he hadn't brought the tribal drums with him this time. She buried her head under a pillow and wished the world would go away.

  * * * *

  Carine unnerved him. Nearer to the Goddess than Naima, she saw things Finn preferred to keep hidden. With Naima, he could pretend to be a man. Carine's hopeful eyes saw only the Lupine. The answer to her prayers. He turned away from her quiet supplication, the unspoken pleas, wishing with all of his heart that she would leave him alone. If there was a price, why should he pay?

  "I think he's turned the corner."

  "Oh, I hope so. If only we could do more. You saved Father with your Wish..."

  Finn heard Carine's soft laugh. “The Wish has a habit of choosing for itself. If we had one intact there's no telling whether it would work."

  "I have a few credits saved. Perhaps we'll find a magic-seller at the trading fair? Did you see how many transports are already gathered?"

  "I think perhaps we shouldn't meddle too much. The poor man needs clothes. Did you find something to fit him?"

  Finn listened to their disembodied chatter, touched by the concern in Naima's voice. He'd learned every creak of the floorboards, the clatter of spoons and plates on the wooden trays, Carine and Naima's individual scents. In his mind, he knew exactly where they were in the room, what they were doing. When Naima moved into his personal space, he felt himself stirring and hardening in response and quickly gave himself a metaphorical cold shower to save them both the embarrassment. Not difficult when he measured the bad in his life against the good.

  Hell? The Pit? The same, whatever you called it. Surely, he wouldn't be condemned to eternal damnation for extracting well-earned retribution from his tormentors? Did the warrior trouble his conscience over those he killed in the heat of battle? Should he be struck down for following his instincts? The sheet rustled over his body, fingers brushed his hip. His wolf had revelled in the carnage and the man felt no remorse. Only the fear that his actions had damned him.

  "I promised Ancel I'd go with him to meet the trade delegation. He's convinced women negotiate better prices."

  Fin heard the pause in Carine's voice, Naima's heartbeat pick up pace. He steadied his breathing. Please leave, he urged Carine, overwhelmed by the need to connect with Naima in the most primitive of ways. The pictures in his mind were playing havoc with his self-control. Whole and unshackled he might have taken matters into his own hands. He stopped the thought. Although honour was a somewhat alien concept, he at least owed these people his gratitude and his good behaviour.

  "Go, I'll be fine.” He heard the nervous edge in Naima's voice. Carine's resigned sigh.

  "Ahh, I shouldn't. Ancel won't like it. Everyone's preparing for the fair, there's no one spare to guard you."

  "Carine, would you have been able to protect me? Please? Just give me some time alone with him. Father need never know. Finn is perfectly safe to be around, believe me."

  "Has he said anything? My Crystal's gone silent again. I don't know what to make of all this."

  "No."

  Carine's footsteps moved towards the door. “Are you sure you're not a Moon-Child in disguise?” she said. “Don't be too long, we need to set out our stall. Our strain of taraga is gaining quite a reputation. I'll tell Ancel you're bundling herbs. Goodbye Finn."

  Had she seen the twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth? He'd opened his eyes before Carine closed the door, determined not to waste a second of this opportunity. Used some of his stored up energy to bring forward his wolf. Naima stood near to the window, her expression a little anxious. Now she'd dismissed Carine, she didn't know what to do next. Women were strange creatures.

  "How are you feeling, Finn?"

  "Pain. But I'm healing. Come here."

  "I've brought pain-killers."

  "I don't mind the pain, it let's me know I'm alive. Come nearer."

  She flew across the room, the momentary awkwardness evaporating in a heartbeat. The touch of her hand immediately aroused him to a painful hardness that made him want to throw her down and seek instant relief. Instinct told him to slow down and enjoy the sweet torture of denial. Sex had always been about the destination, with no thought to the journey. So much to learn. Her hands cradled his face, fingers splayed over his cheeks. Warm lips pressed to his with infinite care.

  This was what had been missing from the equation, for all those years, all those women. Tenderness. His wolf preened under her touch, while the man craved it as he now craved life.

  To live, and have this every day. The thought made him slide a hand behind her head and pull her closer, anxious to hold on to this precious gift. The act of mating was more complicated than he'd ever imagined.

  "Unchain me,” he whispered. “You know I'd never hurt you."

  "I know."

  A rustle of clothing, a click and the chain fell away. Soft fingers massaged his bruised wrist. What did she see when she looked at him? How did he look after all this time in the wilderness? Her fingers trailed over his forearm, his biceps. Touched the bandages covering his chest.

  "Take me outside,” he said. “Just for a little while. I want the sun on me. Want to feel free. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, I understand."

  She appeared reluctant to break away from him, so he let her help him to sit, legs dangling from the bed. To stand, even though he could do it for himself. His nakedness hardly bothered him. He'd long since given up caring that people stared at his body, wondering where he kept his wolf. He hissed lightly when his cock brushed her clothing. For an agonising moment, her fingers skimmed the length of him.

  "We'll cause enough of a scandal if anyone finds you unchained. If I'm caught out with a naked man my father will probably have me locked up.” The cool sheet settled around his shoulders. “We can't stay out for long."

  He heard laughter mingled with the more serious message to be cautious. To remain here he needed to earn their trust, but the prospect of leaving the hut made him shiver with anticipation. His wolf strained to be free.

  The feeling increased as she steered him to the door and through the lobby area. He held himself in check while she unlocked the outer door, all of his senses acutely alert and on edge. Rough boards beneath his bare feet, the tremor running over her skin, her erratic breath—he was listening and feeling with his wolf. It was becoming increasingly difficult to control.

  "Finn, kiss me bef
ore we go out. Tell me you won't run away."

  "I'll try not to.” It was a poor attempt at humour since he meant it. Already, he strained for the first touch of the morning air on his face, every muscle twitching to find out whether his healing body could run, and keep on running until he was over the mountain and completely free.

  Naima dismissed the brief touching of their lips with a whispered, “No, like this.” She pressed her open mouth urgently to his in a kiss that asked questions he didn't have answers to. “I couldn't bear it if you left now,” she said.

  "If I wanted to go, would you let me?” The kiss had rekindled his desire, mingled this time with a thread of panic that she might turn out to be like all the others and merely want him for her own needs. He had little understanding of wanting without wanting to possess and, through the now-open door, the world rushed towards him, assailing his senses with an exciting jumble of scents and sounds. The light reduced his vision to a blurred mix of colours and shapes. He kept his wolf at bay, for now, needing all of his strength to get himself over the threshold.

  She hadn't answered his question. He wanted to be her mate, not her prisoner. “Naima, how far do you think I'd get, in this state?” He waited, hovering on the threshold, letting the gusty breeze lift his hair and cool his face. Her hand cupped his elbow, steering him down the wooden steps.

  "If you could see your face, you wouldn't have asked that question. You look like a man anxious to start a long journey and relishing every step. You're a free man, Finn. I'd never stop you from leaving if it's what you wanted."

  The sadness in her voice distracted him enough to feel remorse for scaring her. Added to the sounds of nature and man going about his business was the sound of her anxious, jittery heartbeat, her panting breath. Her fingers, possessive on his arm tightened imperceptibly with every step he took.

  "When I go,” he said. “I want you with me."

  "If you go. I'll come. We need to go around the back where we won't be seen from the road. Tread carefully, the path is stony."

  He let her be his eyes, concentrating on his other senses as they made their way around the hut. The stab of small stones under his feet gave way to springy turf, damp with morning dew. The earth felt ripe with promise as it threw off the last vestiges of winter. In spirit form he'd glimpsed the snow-line, high above them, ragged as the warming spring air drove it back to the high peaks. Beneath the surface, his wolf quivered and inhaled the scents of grass and plants trampled underfoot, the lingering smell of smoke from a distant fire. It listened to the confusion of voices down in the valley, always on the alert for the one who had escaped its retribution. The one who would surely be coming after him.