Wolf's Bane

by Nancey Cummings

  Being so close to Solenne, catching her delicious scent, riled his beast. He heard her heart, steady and true.

  Thump. Thump. Thump.

  She had not recognized him, which stung, but that wonderful smell helped to ease the hurt. He had purposefully removed his shirt, knowing she watched. She had no comment on the bite. This close to the summer solstice moon and the nexus, the bite was red and raw. He suspected that she only failed to recognize the bite for what it was because she felt the same disorienting attraction as he.

  Godwin would recognize the bite at once.

  Very well. He’d try his best to remain clothed in the presence of his old mentor. In a few days, as the moon waned, the bite would look as unremarkable as of the other scars on his person.

  In a wooden chest, he found a medical kit stocked with wolfsbane. He took the bottle and a few more useful-looking tonics. The wolfsbane would be enough to keep him under control for this cycle.

  He had such a clever mate.

  Chapter 6

  Aleksandar

  Boxon Hill

  Marechal House

  * * *

  The house remained unchanged in that timeless quality he always associated with the Marechal family. They were a fixed point in his life, staying as they had been a decade ago.

  It perched near the midway up Boxon Hill, a squat building with honey-colored stone walls and faded green shutters, surveying the lord’s domain. The stone glowed in the late afternoon sunlight. He knew from experience that the house was frightfully cold in the winter, but remained pleasant throughout the summer. The scent of a wood smoke drifted from the chimney.

  He could not shake his surprise when Godwin limped down the front steps, leaning heavily on a short staff.

  “Aleksandar. Solenne said a disheveled traveler surprised her at the old cottage, and she nearly shot him full of arrows,” his old mentor said, obvious pride in his voice. He wore an eye patch. The flesh surrounding it appeared red and swollen.

  “How bad is—” Alek stopped himself from finishing the question. He knew how detrimental it could be when a hunter lost their vision. Even partially. Skills honed over a lifetime would have to be relearned. Fighting stances and preferred weapons adapted. It was bad, bad enough for the proud Godwin Marechal to ask for help.

  Or at least for Solenne to ask for help.

  The man aged poorly in the last ten years, and not just from the recent injuries that put the shuffle of pain in his walk. Alek suspected the tragic death of his wife aged Godwin faster than any beast. His hair was more iron gray than dark. Wrinkles and worry set heavy on his face. Godwin Marechal had been fierce and proud, indomitable in spirit and unbeatable in a fight. This man? This man was frail.

  Godwin’s good eye glared at Alek. For a moment, he thought Godwin would tear away the patch and demand Alek to gaze on his ruin. No such dramatics occurred.

  “The last I heard, you went to the West Lands,” Godwin said.

  “For a time.”

  “They have not done you any good.”

  “I disagree,” Alek replied. The West Lands were unsettled and wild. Not wilderness, exactly, but lands lost to uncontrolled nexus points. Some smaller farmsteads and villages scraped out a living there, and Alek scraped out his own meager existence, turning in bounties for whatever slipped through the nexus. It hadn’t been profitable, but the hard work forged him into a stronger person. He could not have survived as long as he had with the curse if not for the experiences of the West Lands.

  “I’m back to my family’s land now,” he said.

  Godwin nodded. That said enough about Alek’s fortunes, meaning he had none. “Nothing has changed,” Godwin said.

  Alek drew his shoulders back to stand at his full height, angry that Godwin had to be blunt. Of course nothing had changed. Alek was still the same penniless hunter he had been ten years ago, when he asked Godwin’s permission to court Solenne.

  And Godwin was still the proud fucker.

  The wound on his shoulder thrummed, and the silver ink embedded in his skin burned. He would never contain his beast during the full moon if he let his anger take control.

  He knew Solenne or Luis needed to marry well, to bring an infusion of coin into the family’s coffers. The Marechal children would have to be practical. Marriage to another hunter, while common for the previous generations, would not give them the help they needed now. The once proud family could not afford love.

  “It seems your circumstances have changed,” Alek said, his voice cold. The beast inside him clawed and snarled, wanting out to finish the job at which the other beast failed. Who was this man to tell him no? To decide he was not good enough for Solenne?

  To deny him his mate?

  The beast would take what he wanted and answered to no frail man.

  Alek snarled. His teeth felt sharper, like they crowded his mouth and needed to bite, bite, bite.

  “You’ll stay away from Solenne,” Godwin said. “She has an understanding with a very good match. You’ll not confuse the issue or turn her head.”

  “You sorely misjudge your daughter if you think she can be confused,” Alek said, working the words around a mouthful of teeth.

  He struggled to contain the beast, to remember that Godwin had saved Alek and took him into his home, mentored him, and gave him a profession. That man, the man Godwin had once been, deserved Alek’s respect.

  Deferring to an obviously weaker man felt wrong to the beast, whose thoughts were no more complex than the gratification of seizing and dominance. The beast respected only raw strength. Godwin could not defend himself, not half-blind and limping. He should kneel before Alek, thankful that the strength of the wolf wanted to protect his home and family, not claim those for itself.

  Civility, tattered and frayed, held Alek in check. This was the man who saved him. This was the man who took him into his own home, when Alek’s own family had been slaughtered by a monster.

  Silver burned, containing the beast. Alek might be more monster than man now, but his rational mind was still in command. The beast might hold dominion over his body, but his mind controlled his actions.

  For the moment.

  “You will not enter my home until I have your word,” Godwin said, either unaware of his peril or uncaring.

  “Very well. You have my word.” Alek held out his hand to shake as a peace offering.

  Having reached accord, they shook.

  The beast howled in frustration. Alek knew all the sound reasons a union with Solenne was foolish and doomed to unhappiness. He could not give her what she needed. He could not be the partner she deserved.

  “Come inside. You’ve had a long journey if you came from the West Lands,” Godwin said. “You must want nothing more than a hot bath and a good meal.”

  Alek wanted several things, but he would settle for a good meal and a comfortable bed. “I washed the worst away at the cottage,” he said.

  “Then a soak, but I suppose you’re young enough that you don’t feel the miles in the saddle,” Godwin said, even as the groomsman led Alek’s horse to the stable.

  Inside the front entrance, the house remained the same, as if frozen in a memory. The wooden floor had been axed and polished to a deep, reddish hue. Grand doors lined the foyer to the left and right. From memory, Alek knew the drawing room and the other tidy little rooms of social convention to be to the left and the dining room to the right. A staircase curved up and around to the second floor. A corridor tucked neatly to the right side led to the downstairs kitchen and baths. Beyond that, around a corner or two, was the oldest part of the structure.

  The fading sunlight filtered in through tall windows that could use a good washing. The draperies appeared a little more worn and faded. A console table sat between two closed doors, a bowl of fresh flowers perfuming the air. Alek bet if he checked, he’d still find his and Solenne’s initials carved into the back of the table when he had been eleven and she nine.

  “Solenne said you
were injured,” Godwin said, pausing at the foot of the stairs.

  “A beast attacked our coach. I handled it,” Alek replied.

  “I am sure. I’ll send her up with her kit to patch you up.”

  “Perhaps not, all things considered.” The beast inside him howled with displeasure.

  Godwin gave him a withering look. “I need you in fighting shape.”

  “A good night’s rest is all I need.” Lies. So many lies.

  Solenne

  Godwin announced that Alek had arrived but would not be joining them for dinner. Instead, he sent up water for bathing, a meal on a tray, and eventually Solenne with her kit. She schooled her expression to remain neutral. Too eager and Godwin would lock her away in her room. Too insolent and Godwin would rage at her rudeness. She struggled not to rush through her meal in her eagerness.

  “What is Hardwick like? I barely remember him.” Luis followed her, arms laden with every item their guest could require. Solenne herself carried a pitcher of hot water.

  The bedroom door burst open, and a large figure of a man filled the frame. He was cleaner now and dressed casually in a clean white shirt and trousers. His hair had been combed, but his beard was as wild as ever.

  The traveler at the cottage.

  “Alek,” she whispered. This was it, the moment she’d been anticipating for years and the moment she dreaded. She felt like the same over eager girl in the throes of her first love, living for brief touches and stolen moments alone. Nothing had changed. It was as if she had been frozen in amber, and she struggled against the binds in frustration, because she had changed and so had Alek. She hadn’t even recognized him. “You look—”

  “Tired,” Alek said. He eyed Luis. “You’ve grown since I saw you last.”

  “Puberty does that. Can you even eat with that thing on your face?” Luis responded.

  Alek’s face remained blank for three heartbeats. Solenne scrambled to apologize because they needed Alek’s help—she had begged for it—and they could not afford to offend him. Even if he was smelly and sported a wild beard that made him look more beast than man.

  Alek threw his head back and laughed, loud and booming. He stroked the chin of his bushy beard. “Meals are tricky. Sometimes I like to tuck bits away for later.” He mimed picked out crumbs and popped the imaginary morsels in his mouth.

  “Set that down on the bureau, please,” Solenne said, nudging Luis.

  Travers put Alek in the same third floor room, tucked under the eaves of the attic as when he apprenticed with Godwin. Narrow and small for an adolescent, the room was too cramped for three adults. The ceiling slanted dramatically, requiring Alek to duck his head. A cool breeze flowed in through the open casement windows.

  The furnishings were simple: a bed too narrow for the grown man to sleep comfortably, a desk and chair, and bureau. A battered trunk took up much of the floor space.

  “I’ll have Travers ready a more appropriate room. This is too small,” she said as she pulled out the chair. “Sit. Shirt off.”

  “Do not bother. The room is adequate.” He sat but did not remove his shirt.

  “It is a child’s room with a child’s bed. I need you fresh and limber, Hardwick, not twisted and stiff.”

  The muscles in his jaw twitched. She raised an eyebrow. He cleared his throat and looked away before saying, “I don’t want to be a bother. Perhaps the cottage?”

  Luis perched on the edge of the bed, his knees bumping into Solenne. She tripped over his feet as she moved to the bureau.

  “If you wished to be exiled,” she said, shooting Luis an irritated glare. He shrugged and tucked his feet carefully under the bed.

  “I’m used to my privacy,” Alek said.

  “The answer is no. I’m afraid I won’t put the extra work on Miriam and Travers. I’ll find you an adult-sized room, but you’ll be in the house. Now, shirt. Off.” She snapped her fingers. Alek rolled his eyes but complied.

  The wounds weren’t as bad as she remembered. They appeared less angry but still red and swollen. The scars on his stomach were faded, almost as if they had been there for ages, but she remembered they were red.

  She kneeled before him. His knees parted, allowing her space. Up close, the smell of the caustic soap drowned out anything unpleasant. His scent was sweat, green grass, and cool water.

  Her fingers brushed the sun tattoo, then drifted down to the tight lines that crossed his stomach, his abdomen muscles jumping. A wolf once tried its damnedest to shred Alek to pieces. But they had been red. Perhaps that had been a trick of the light.

  The bite, though, her memory did not fail her. As red and angry as ever, it needed attention before infection set in.

  Solenne was aware of Luis watching her as she inspected Alek’s injuries. She refused to blush. She refused to let her heart flutter or her breath quicken. This was another injury, just body parts not so different from any of the other bodies she tended.

  “You know what? I don’t need to be here,” Luis said. As he exited, he managed to kick her calf, trip over her foot, put a hand on her shoulder, and nearly shove her head into Alek’s lap. To be so clumsy required an amazing execution of grace.

  Alek’s eyes followed Luis, narrow and calculating. When they were alone, he said, “Is he that clumsy?”

  “I think he thinks he’s funny.” Solenne rose to her feet, resisting the urge to smooth her hair or fuss with the folds on her dress.

  “You changed,” he said.

  “I was covered in mud, same as you.”

  “I was not referring to your garments.” His tone felt mocking, like he expected her to be preserved in amber while he transformed into an almost unrecognizable man.

  Anger, bright and furious, anger she normally kept bottled up flared in her. So much about her had grown and matured, but she felt emotionally stuck at sixteen, and it was horrid.

  Solenne looked away, needing a moment to collect herself. She breathed in and out. Sweat and green grass and cool water. The scents were warm, like the promise of summer.

  Once under control, she approached with a rag soaked in the hot water. Just a shoulder. Never mind the moonlight highlighted the musculature of his upper arms or the cords in his neck. Just another shoulder.

  When she dabbed the cloth to the bite, his body tensed, but he remained stoically silent.

  “Is this recent?” The bite appeared recent.

  “It must be, to look like that,” he eventually said.

  The teeth had pierced deep. “Any difficulty moving your shoulder?”

  “No.”

  “Show me.”

  With a put-upon sigh, he raised an arm, then dropped it quickly back to his side.

  “Touch your ear,” she said. He touched the ear on the same side. “No, the other one.”

  Moving stiffly, he reached around and tapped his other ear. Then, to be clever, he patted his head and moved his arms in a circle.

  Solenne cleaned the bite and slathered on a generous layer of a cream made with wolfsbane. The red rash under his silver necklace and wristband received the same attention.

  As she held his wrist, she felt his pulse flutter. He watched her work, eyes sharp and following every movement like a guard dog. There was so much she wanted to say but didn’t know how to start. She wasn’t the same sixteen-year-old girl, deep in the clutches of infatuation, but in that moment, close enough to smell his soap, she was.

  His wounds cleaned and covered, she brought the pitcher and bowl and hot water over and placed them nearby on the trunk. Luis had helpfully laid out a pair of scissors, a razor, a small mirror, lather brush, and a cake of shaving soap. Using a mirror, Alek hacked away at the beard while she worked the soap into a lather with the brush. Just as she raised the brush to Alek’s face, he caught her wrist.

  “You do not need to do this,” he said, his voice thick and betraying the first sign of emotion.

  She dabbed on the soap as a means of answering. Slowly, the beard vanished under a layer of w
hite foam. Carefully she dragged the razor across his skin, each stroke revealing a civilized man.

  “The house is quiet,” he said.

  “Indeed.”

  “It used to be filled with…”

  The voices of people not afraid to laugh or otherwise be heard. The house used to be filled with life. She wanted to say nothing, focused on the razor scraping along his cheek. Let him think what he wanted.

  Instead, she said, “I guess something has changed after all.”

  He did not waste a beat, pouncing on the crack in her defense. “Afraid of upsetting your father?”

  Her hand jolted with surprise. Alek hissed as the blade nicked him. Quickly, she dabbed the injury with a clean corner of the wet cloth until the bleeding stopped.

  “Initially, perhaps, but no. Father gets a piece of my mind when he deserves it.”

  “Afraid of upsetting your fiancé?”

  Fiancé? Hardly. Her nose scrunched at the thought.

  “No promises have been made.” Unlike the kiss and promise Alek made to her.

  She knew her father regarded an alliance with Colonel Chambers as inevitable, and Chambers himself was a pleasant enough man, but she held nothing more for him than friendly regard. If Chambers was of a mind to marry, he never made his intentions clear.

  “Not according to your father.”

  Solenne dropped the cloth and sat back on her heels. “What is happening?”

  “You’re carving me up like a roast is what’s happening,” he grumbled.

  “You’re upset with me.”

  “I’m more than capable of shaving myself. Leave.” He grabbed the razor from the trunk.

  “You’re upset that I am not the same sixteen-year-old girl besotted with you.”

  “You promised to wait for me.”

  “And you promised you’d return, not wait ten years for me to beg you. No letters. Not a single one. I knew writing to you was a mistake.”