The Unforgettable Wolf

by Jane Godman

  “You bastard.” Violet slid off the bed and backed up toward the rear of the cell, the implication of his words hitting her. “You have been abusing my mother and now you want to boast about it?”

  He followed her. “No. Now I want to do the same to you.”

  With her back to the wall, Violet had nowhere to go. As Dario loomed over her, she focused on not letting this happen without a fight. Ducking under his arm, she grabbed the metal bucket and hurled it at him, flinging the contents in his face. He howled with rage, rubbing his eyes and lunging for her. Violet brought her foot up between his legs. He grunted out a curse and went down on his knees, clutching his groin with both hands. Violet shifted and sprang on top of him, forcing him onto his back and holding him there as she sank her talons into his chest.

  She had never killed a mortal or another wolf, but she didn’t hesitate now. She didn’t dare give Dario time to shift. As soon as her canines lengthened, she struck without hesitation, tearing deep into the flesh of his throat. The warm, coppery flavor of his blood filled her mouth, dripping onto the fur of her chest as the man beneath her struggled and thrashed. Violet shook her head back and forth repeatedly until she heard the final telltale crack of Dario’s neck breaking.

  Chapter 22

  “I have no problem with a plan to rescue Violet. Just explain to me again why I need to include you. Why shouldn’t I just do away with the opposition and kill you now?” Roko asked.

  “Because you are a decent—” Nate paused. What was the right phrase? Human being? But he wasn’t. Werewolf? Right now he wasn’t in wolf form. “—person. I’m not your enemy. Nevan is. We’re on the same side here.”

  “We might be on the same side, but a mortal would slow the mission down.” At least the resistance leader was no longer talking about killing him.

  “Take me as bait. I’ll deflect Nevan’s attention away from the real operation while you rescue Violet and her mother and brother.”

  Nate realized he was starting to sound desperate. I don’t care. I am desperate. He would get down on his hands and knees and beg Roko if that was what it took to get the other man to do as he asked. He was prepared to do anything to get Violet out of that cell.

  They were in a house that was a smaller version of the Voda Kuca. Nate was slowly realizing that werewolves were not very imaginative. They were loyal and reliable, fiercely devoted to their mates, their pack and a cause in which they believed, but creativity wasn’t their strongpoint. During his brief time in the Wolf Nation, he’d seen that caution applied to the way they dressed, their homes and, to an extent, the way they thought. Werewolves had an architectural style that worked, and they stuck to it. Nate, who was highly artistic, found it strange.

  Roko was unusual in that he was prepared to deviate from the tried-and-tested werewolf rules of engagement. It was why Nevan found him a frustrating opponent and one of the reasons the resistance was winning the latest round of skirmishes. He considered Nate’s suggestion with interest.

  “You think you can distract Nevan long enough for me and a group of my men to get into the Voda Kuca?”

  “I’m prepared to give it my best shot.” Nate felt a glimmer of hope as Roko’s expression switched from speculative to conniving. He decided to push further. “As long as we leave right now.”

  Roko started to laugh. “For someone who is at a complete disadvantage, you are very demanding.”

  Nate waited, forcing himself to resist the urge to keep up the pressure. He could see Roko was tempted. He knew the other man would not easily pass up the opportunity to get inside the Voda Kuca and face his enemy. Right at that moment, Nate wasn’t interested in Roko’s ambitions or emotions. Get me back to Urlati, back to Violet. That was all he cared about. Later? Once she was safe, he would help clean up any mess the resistance’s actions left behind.

  “Okay.” Roko nodded decisively. He signaled to his second-in-command. “Teo, get the boats ready. We are going to pay Nevan a little visit.”

  There was a flurry of action, during which Nate turned to Emil. “You do not have to be part of this. This is not your fight. Stay here on Reznati.”

  Emil looked hurt. “Nevan made it my fight. And this is for my lady. Of course I wish to be part of it.”

  Nate dropped a hand onto the young werewolf’s shoulder. “I should have known you would.”

  As they made their way to the harbor, Nate was relieved to see that the skies had cleared and the wind had dropped. Although he’d have willingly undertaken another white-knuckle ocean crossing, he was glad he didn’t have to.

  There were about twenty resistance fighters manning five small sailboats. Nate and Emil joined Roko in the first of these. As they sailed out of the harbor, Nate was aware of Roko studying him with curiosity. He turned to face the other man. “Go on. Ask the question that is burning you up inside.”

  Roko shrugged. “None of my business.”

  “Please yourself.” Nate started to turn away.

  “Okay.” The word burst from Roko’s lips. “What happens next? You can’t stay in Otherworld, so what becomes of the great love affair?”

  “It ends.” He had said those words often enough inside his head, but saying them out loud burned his throat.

  “How can you do that?” Roko shook his head. “If you love her, how can you just walk away from her?”

  Nate had been over and over this so many times it hurt his head to think of it. “I don’t have a choice.”

  “Why the hell not?” Roko’s face expressed amazement. “I may have seen you as a rival at first, but I’ve moved on from that now. I can see she never loved me, but if she had, I’d have done anything to keep her. She does love you. I don’t understand why she would choose a mortal, but even more than that I don’t understand you. What sort of sick human pride would keep you from accepting the chance of a future with her?”

  Something within Nate faltered at the words. Roko seemed to be saying there was a way forward. A chance at a future for him and Violet. Nate believed he had thought of everything. Considered all the options. Had he closed his mind to something blindingly obvious? When Roko spoke of his human pride, it hinted at one thing.

  Nate had been bitten by a werewolf once. It had been a life-changing experience, resulting in the worst time of his life. Had he deliberately shut out the possibility of letting Violet bite him because of that? He almost laughed out loud. She was his mate. His life. Without her he was nothing. He was a werewolf in everything except name. The prospect of Violet sinking her canines into him during sex didn’t scare or repulse him. It filled him with wild, shuddering excitement...

  He staggered as the boat bumped against the harbor wall. Roko’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “We are here.”

  * * *

  “Violet?” Disturbed by the noise, Dorotea sounded nervous. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Violet tried to keep the wobble out of her voice. It was difficult when she was trembling all over.

  She had shifted back once she was sure Dario was dead. Now she eased to her feet and stood over him, running a shaky hand over her mouth. The taste of blood was thick and bitter in her mouth, and she spat it onto the floor of the cell. I’m a werewolf. Since when did I become squeamish about blood? That would be around the time I first killed a man. Violet had never seen herself as a killer, but she couldn’t regret his death, not after what she had learned about his abuse of her mother, and his deliberate cruelty toward her and Bartol.

  Stripping off the tattered and bloodied remnants of her T-shirt, she used the water in the bowl to clean the blood from her face and chest. Feeling calmer, she slid her sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers back on. Dario had left the keys in the cell door, and she stepped around his body to unlock it.

  The door swung open, and Violet breathed a deep sigh of relief. It was only the first step on the road t
o escape, but it felt good. The key to her cell was on a ring with several others, all of which looked the same. She guessed they opened the doors to the other cells.

  Dorotea’s eyes widened in amazement when Violet approached her with the keys in her hand. “How did you get out?”

  “Dario tried to attack me.”

  As Violet fumbled with several different keys and eventually found the one to unlock the cell door, Dorotea wrung her hands. “I should have warned you about him. He is an evil man.”

  Violet gave her a brief hug before drawing her through the open door. “He won’t ever bother you again.”

  Dorotea was almost hesitant as she stepped from her cell into the tunnel. Violet supposed that was what decades of captivity would do to someone. Her mother had become institutionalized, conditioned to view life in that cramped room as normality.

  Despite the need for haste, Violet gazed at Dorotea in astonishment. Waves of emotion rippled through her as she drank in the features that were so like her own. The features of a woman she had believed was dead. Shock didn’t come close to explaining how it felt to know she was alive.

  I have a mother. It was a wonderful feeling, but the warmth those words brought were wrapped up in sadness at all the things they had lost. All the first times, the confidences, the everyday things they would never get to share.

  No matter what came next for them, the catching up, the ways they would find to develop closeness—and Violet had no doubt that, if they got out of this, they would find a way—their future would always be tainted by the separation they had endured. It was another reason to resent the way Nevan had reacted to his wife’s infidelity.

  Dorotea’s eyes widened in alarm as she glimpsed Dario’s body on the floor of Violet’s cell. She gave a fearful little moan. “What now?”

  “Now we get away.” Violet kept her voice brisk and determined, injecting it with a confidence she wasn’t sure she felt.

  “Nevan will never let us escape.”

  Those words gave Violet the boost she needed. “Let him try to stop us.”

  “What about Bartol?” Dorotea moved to stand beside her son’s cell. Gripping the bars, she pressed her face up against them, her expression despairing.

  Violet paused. It was a good question. They couldn’t leave Bartol here to die or to be the subject of Nevan’s revenge. He would slow them down, but there was no choice. “Bartol comes with us.”

  She unlocked the door of her brother’s cell. Between them, the two women hoisted Bartol’s pitifully thin figure to his feet. By draping his arms around their shoulders and placing one of their own arms each around his waist, they were able to drag him along between them. It would be a slow process, but the three of them would be just about able to move along the tunnel that way.

  “We have to go the way Nate and I came,” Violet said. “Toward the icehouse. If we go in the other direction, we will end up in the Voda Kuca and risk encountering Nevan.”

  When Nate had fought Dario and the other beta werewolves in the tunnel, he had dropped the flashlight. It had rolled and lay abandoned now against the tunnel wall. Violet stooped to pick it up, hoping it was undamaged. Luckily it was, and holding it in front of her with her free hand, she lit their way as, supporting the unconscious Bartol between them, they made cautious progress along the rocky corridor.

  By the time they reached the circular storage chamber, Violet’s shoulders felt like they were on fire. Sweat was rolling off her body and running down her face, and she was breathing harder than after her longest run. Reminding herself that she had just recovered from a life-threatening illness, she paused.

  “Let’s take a rest.”

  Dorotea seemed glad of the suggestion. She, too, was panting from her exertions. They carefully propped Bartol in a seated position against one of the walls. His head flopped onto his chest and, even by the limited light thrown out by the flashlight, Violet could see that he was deathly pale. She didn’t want to worry Dorotea, but she hoped their efforts hadn’t been in vain. Her fear was that Bartol might not survive their attempt to get him to freedom.

  Violet and Dorotea sat on either side of him, instinctively supporting him and attempting to comfort him with their presence. As soon as she had time to think, Violet’s thoughts swerved in Nate’s direction. Where was he? Was he injured? Was he still alive? He had to be. The idea of a world without Nate in it was unbearable. Even if she never saw him again, she had to believe he was okay. She had to be able to picture him in the mortal realm, playing his guitar, refereeing squabbles between Khan and Diablo, thinking of her as she would be thinking of him, wishing their story could have had a different ending.

  Nevan had implied he would stage an accident during Nate’s return to the Faerie Isles, but Nate was here in Otherworld under Cal’s protection. Violet had to place her trust in Cal. And in Nate. He was a survivor. A slight smile touched her lips as she pictured how his biography would look. Now that would be a celebrity story worth telling. Somehow she doubted Ged would allow the true story of Beast and its individual members to be told. The fans would only ever get to hear the sanitized version.

  One day, perhaps, she would have the courage to ask Cal how it turned out for Nate. She knew she would never hear that he had moved on and found someone else. They were bound together for life. Just because they couldn’t be together physically, it didn’t mean they would move on and find other partners. Love like theirs didn’t work that way. But she liked to think that in the future she would be strong enough to ask how he was doing without her heart splintering into a thousand pieces. One day.

  When her breathing had returned to normal, she stood. “We should get Bartol into the fresh air.”

  Navigating those narrow, slippery steps wasn’t going to be easy. In the end, Violet went up the stairs backward, supporting Bartol under his arms while Dorotea took his feet. They had to pause on each step while Violet found a secure footing, but, after long, agonizing minutes, they eventually surfaced through the icehouse doors and onto the field.

  Violet had known all along that her only plan was to get this far. Now she had to think of a way to get them past the Voda Kuca and down to the harbor. The only way she could think of getting to safety was to get into a boat and to get away from Urlati. It wasn’t fully formed, but maybe if she could get them to Vukod, Marko might be able to help Bartol. It was all she had right now, and it was better than waiting around until Nevan found them.

  From where she stood, she could see the Voda Kuca in the moonlight. It should be still and silent. Although the occupants of the house were werewolves and would be drawn to the moonlight, that time of night when they would shift for pleasure was gone. Dawn was approaching. Yet something was going on at the house.

  Dorotea followed her gaze. “What is happening?”

  In the shifting shadows cast by the clouds obscuring the moon, Violet could just make out a group of figures stealthily approaching the rear of the house. “I’m not sure.”

  “Your dashing hero has decided to stage a rescue.” Nevan’s voice behind her startled a cry from Violet as she swung around to face him. “I think we should go and let him know he’s too late, don’t you?”

  * * *

  The plan was simple. Nate would walk in through the front door of the Voda Kuca and challenge Nevan to a fight. Meanwhile, Roko and his resistance fighters would sneak around to the rear and stage a surprise attack before the beta werewolves had time to figure out what was happening.

  It was a straightforward operation, one that relied on a basic component. For it to work, Nevan had to be in the Voda Kuca when Nate got there.

  When Nate walked back into the Voda Kuca, heart racing, breath coming in short, fast pants, primed and ready for the looming confrontation, the house was empty. He felt it as soon as he walked through the door. Silence greeted him. The lights were on—all of them—but no one was home. I
t was a cliché that summed up the way his brain was refusing to process what he was seeing.

  A sense of powerlessness overwhelmed him. To have reached this point, to have everything in place, and to find his chance at saving Violet snatched away... No. He took a huge breath. Think. Nevan couldn’t have known we were coming. Something must have happened.

  As he tried to make sense of what was happening, a sound from the doorway behind him made him turn with a sense of dread. Nevan, his hand encircling Violet’s upper arm, shoved her over the doorstep in front of him. Behind him a group of beta werewolves, larger than any Nate had seen before, followed. One of them dragged Dorotea with him, while another carried Bartol’s unconscious form.

  “Looking for someone?” Nevan snarled.

  Violet’s eyes flew to Nate’s face, and despite the circumstances, he saw the flare of joy that lit them. It matched his own.

  “I remember everything about my life now,” she called out to him. “And I would like to forget it all, Nate. Everything...except you.”

  When they had dragged him away from her in that tunnel and Nate had sworn to come back, a part of him had feared it might never happen. Even when he had been fighting to make it so, had taken that fucking awful sailboat ride to hell, had gone prepared to beg and plead with Roko, somewhere deep inside, there had been a feeling of dread, a horrible, clawing notion that their time together was up.

  Maybe that was how it had been meant to be. Maybe being back here now defied all the odds. All he knew was this was their second chance, and they were taking it. Seizing it with both hands and clinging to it for all they were worth. It didn’t matter how many beta werewolves Nevan had lined up behind him, how the odds stacked against them. This time they were walking out of this together. He and Violet, hand in hand. For good. Or he would die trying.

  “Yes. I was looking for you.” He stepped forward to face Nevan. “Are you going to hide behind two women and a sick man or fight me face-to-face?”