Kiss of the Wolf

by Morgan Hawke

  Thorn trembled in the prince’s hand. Personally, she wasn’t ready to die. Her growl turned to a low whine. But my bag?

  “Count, the contents of that bag, if you please?” Rafael kept his fingers tight and his gaze focused on Thorn. “You heard the clock. You know what I am looking for.”

  “Of course.” Yaroslav lifted the half-open bag from the chair by one of the shoulder straps. The bag tipped, and several things tumbled free. Thorn’s brush, a red shirt, a rolled pair of socks, and one paper-wrapped parcel hit the seat of the chair.

  Rafael looked sharply over at the chair. “That package…?”

  Thorn started. Her package from the colonel. That’s my delivery!

  “Thorn is a courier for the American government.” Yaroslav lifted the parcel and frowned deeply. He turned to look at Thorn, his jaw clenched. “Your colonel gave this to you to deliver?”

  Yes! It was to go to Agent Hackett and then to his superiors in Washington. Thorn jerked back sharply.

  Rafael’s fingers tightened in her fur. “Open it.”

  No, don’t! Thorn whined and hated the sound coming from her throat. That’s private!

  Yaroslav tugged at the twine, and it broke free. The letter fell to the table. He tore the paper and tugged open the cardboard box. He stared at the contents, and his eyes widened. “This is…”

  Two clocks, one at either end of the room, chimed out the three-quarter hour.

  Rafael turned to face Yaroslav, straightening in his chair without releasing Thorn from his grasp. He smiled slightly. “So now we know what has set off the house’s alarms.”

  Yaroslav scowled and then walked around the other end of the glass table, away from Thorn. He held out the opened box to Rafael. Inside, on a nest of wool batting, was a finger-length glass vial full of something that glowed a near-blinding violet blue. “This…was supposed to go to America.” He did not look at Thorn.

  Thorn gaped. He opened my delivery! She winced. Hackett was going to kill her.

  Rafael stared at the glowing vial. “Is that…?”

  Yaroslav’s jaw tightened. “There is no mistake. The contents are highly concentrated.” He set the box down on the glass table. The needle within the compass turned to point at the box.

  Rafael tilted his head toward Thorn. “Does she know what this is?”

  Yaroslav shook his head. “No.”

  Rafael frowned. “But the signature…?”

  Yaroslav looked away. “So I see.”

  Thorn trembled in the vampire’s grip. Signature? What the hell were they talking about?

  Rafael’s body relaxed, and his tight grip on her fur eased. “What an interesting puzzle.” He leaned back in his chair and set his foot up on the ottoman. “This is growing more curious by the moment.”

  All the tension bled from Thorn’s body. The prince wasn’t angry anymore. Exhausted and more than a bit overwarm in her winter-thick fur, she sat down on her haunches and panted.

  “Thorn…” Rafael’s voice was gentle, almost soothing, “where did your colonel get…this?”

  I have no idea. I’m only a courier, they never tell me anything. The colonel had said that it was connected to the plague, but that was all. And he was dead, killed by Max. She froze. She did know where the package had come from. Max had told her. It had come from him.

  Yaroslav stiffened, and his eyes widened. His fingers clenched on the box. “This…came from Max?”

  Rafael looked up at Yaroslav. “This is from the other were-wolf?”

  Yaroslav looked away and scowled. “Antonius made mention that Max was known to be the plague beast.”

  Rafael’s brows lifted, and a sigh escaped him. “Ah, so…?”

  Thorn stilled utterly. Max was the plague beast, and her package had come from him. I was delivering the plague to America?

  Rafael released Thorn’s fur to stroke down her back, calmly. “Thorn, it is obvious that you did not know what you carried.”

  Thorn glanced up at him. Had he actually read her thoughts? Or had it been a good guess?

  Rafael lifted a brow at Yaroslav. “Could Thorn perhaps have been an early experiment?”

  “It is possible.” Yaroslav tilted his head. “Her making was obviously done nearly a decade ago.”

  Rafael shook his head. “There is no other option. Remove all trace of the Doctor’s aspect from Thorn. I give you sanction for claim.” He smiled up at Yaroslav. “I was hoping not to have to do that.”

  Yaroslav snorted and folded his arms. “You were hoping to steal her.”

  Rafael smiled. “But of course!”

  Now, wait just a damned minute! Thorn slid out from under Rafael’s stroking hand and backed away. She focused on Yaroslav and laid her ears back. You said you can’t remove the…whatever it is the Doctor has on me. A low growl rumbled in her chest. Had he lied?

  Rafael’s brows lifted. “Whatever is wrong with Thorn?”

  Yaroslav glanced at his prince. “A misunderstanding.” He moved behind Rafael’s chair toward Thorn. “I did not lie. You cannot live without your wolf’s soul.” He looked at Rafael and then back at Thorn. “However, your Doctor is the maker of the plague.”

  What? Thorn lifted an ear, and her tail switched in confusion. Okay, so… She looked from one vampire to the other. What has that got to do with me?

  Yaroslav glanced away. “The…vial will be presented to the senate, which will not only identify the plague’s maker, but also allow them to manufacture a cure.”

  Rafael turned in his chair to face Thorn. “This Doctor is a heretic, and, as such, all his creations would be under mandatory judgment.”

  Thorn tilted her head. And mandatory judgment means…what?

  Yaroslav stared at her and held her gaze. “A mandatory judgment means that you, as one of his creations, would have to be destroyed.”

  Thorn jumped back out of sheer reflex. Destroyed? You’re kidding, right?

  “No need to fear.” Rafael smiled. “I have given sanction, or permission, to Count Yaroslav for your creation, or re-creation, so to speak. He is going to remake you.”

  Yaroslav folded his hands behind him and lifted his chin. “I am going to replace the Doctor’s spell with mine.”

  Replace the spell? Thorn sat down on her haunches. Can I think about this first?

  Yaroslav’s brows lifted. “You wish to think about this?”

  “What an excellent idea!” Rafael stood up. “I am of the opinion that thinking is best done on a full stomach.” He rubbed his palms together and turned to smile at Thorn. “How does breakfast sound? We have some excellent venison steaks.”

  Every thought in Thorn’s head came to a complete stop. Food…. Her stomach knotted into a hungry and loud snarl. Her mouth watered, and she was forced to lick her lips. She rose up on her feet and looked up at the smiling prince. That sounded wonderful.

  Rafael leaned to the side to catch Yaroslav’s attention. “There, it is decided. Breakfast first, and other worries after, yes?”

  Yaroslav rolled his eyes. “As you wish, my prince.”

  “All will be much better after breakfast.” Rafael stood next to Yaroslav and patted his arm. “Trust me.”

  Thorn faced the long room’s terra-cotta painted wall. The wolf moved against her soul within her and slid under. She rose from four legs to two. Her white fur became a long silvery mane that spilled past her tall pointed ears and swept down her curved spine to her tail. She groaned. Her body still wouldn’t let her take full human form. “Damnit….”

  Yaroslav raised the white silk dressing gown one of the staff had brought. “Thorn?”

  Thorn lifted her arm and closed her hands to put the robe on without tearing the sleeves with her finger claws. “I can’t take full human form.” She folded the robe across her and knotted the sash at her waist. “It’s like my heart won’t let me.”

  Yaroslav wrapped his arms around her and leaned against her back. “It takes time to accustom one’s self to the company of
the prince.”

  “Okay.” Thorn turned to smile wryly at Yaroslav. “I got accustomed to you.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I can get accustomed to anybody.”

  Yaroslav snorted and tightened his arms around her. “Do not get too accustomed.”

  Thorn leaned back against his broad chest and smiled. “Jealous?”

  Yaroslav lifted his chin. “But of course.”

  Rafael chuckled softly at the table behind them. “Continue with this display of affection, and I will grow jealous.”

  Breakfast was served downstairs in an oval room lit with candlelight rather than sunlight. The green and gold, silk-cut, velvet draperies were drawn across all the windows. The curving walls were covered in fine tooled leather. The cream-damask-swathed round table was set with gold-trimmed eggshell porcelain and positioned before a trim white-painted fireplace with Wedgwood inlaid panels in moss green and white.

  Thorn eyed the elegant room with more than a little dismay. “I would have been fine in the kitchen.”

  Both vampires turned to frown at her.

  Thorn hunched her shoulders. “What?”

  Rafael lifted his chin and sniffed. “My guests do not eat in the kitchen.” He took the chair closest to the windows.

  Yaroslav pulled out the velvet chair facing the fireplace and nodded at Thorn. “Sit.”

  “Okay, fine, whatever….” Thorn eased her tail to the side, tucked the voluminous skirts of her snowy robe closed and sat. She tucked her hands in her lap. “But just so you know, I have terrible table manners.”

  Yaroslav took the chair opposite Rafael and snapped open his napkin. “There is no time like the present to learn them.” He lifted a stern brow at Thorn.

  Thorn snatched for her napkin and tucked it onto her lap. Bully.

  Just about every kind of breakfast food imaginable was served by the vaguely smiling staff, along with coffee, tea, and hothouse orange juice.

  Yaroslav lifted a pair of steaming steaks onto Thorn’s plate.

  The savory aroma made Thorn’s stomach ache with longing. She groaned. “That smells so good.” She lifted her fork and knife and then stopped to eye Yaroslav.

  He nodded.

  Thorn started cutting and eating with a will, swallowing the bite-size chunks whole. Fangs simply did not allow for chewing. As it was, the tender rare meat practically dissolved on her tongue. She moaned with delight.

  Rafael lifted a clear glass pitcher of what looked like water from a tray held by a smiling maid. He filled a single large tumbler and set it by Thorn’s plate. “It would be best if you drank this.” He set the pitcher back on the tray, and it was carried away.

  “Thanks.” Thorn took a large swallow from the glass. It tasted incredibly pure, as though it was water and then some. She took a second swallow and then continued to cut and eat.

  Beside her, both vampires began to fill their own plates.

  Thorn eyed the vampires with interest. Apparently they did not live on blood alone. There went another vampire myth down the drain. She smiled, completely at ease. In fact, she was more at ease than she could remember being in quite a while. She took another swallow of the water. “This water tastes really pure.”

  Rafael smiled. “That is because it is not exactly water. It is Aquinas.”

  Thorn held up the less than half-full glass. “Okay….” She smiled. “Never heard of it.”

  Rafael tapped his lips with a damask napkin. “I would have been greatly surprised if you had.” He leaned back in his chair. “It is served only to human staff working among magi.” He lifted a coffee cup. “Aquinas eases the human heart of fear and delivers pleasant feelings without clouding the mind.”

  Thorn raised her napkin to cover a sudden yawn. “Oh, so that’s why no one seems to mind my, um…” she lifted a hand to indicate her ears, “my appearance.”

  Rafael nodded. “Exactly.” He tilted his head to the side. “However, it has a different effect on those whose bodies are enchanted.”

  Thorn smiled at Rafael. “Oh? Like what?” She was forced to raise her napkin to cover another yawn.

  Yaroslav eased from his chair to kneel at her side. “It puts them into a very deep sleep.”

  Thorn turned to look at him. “It does?” Her eyes were so heavy. In fact, so was the rest of her. She tipped toward him and slumped against his chest.

  Yaroslav’s arms closed around her. “Yes, my love, it does.”

  Thorn snuggled against his chest. He smelled so good. “Sorry, I’m…sleepy.”

  “I am sure you are.” Yaroslav kissed her brow. “Pleasant dreams.”

  19

  She was asleep. At least, she was pretty sure she was asleep; it was so hard to tell. Somebody was carrying her against a warm chest. It smelled like Yaroslav. She sighed. His chest vibrated under her cheek. He was walking somewhere while talking to somebody, but she couldn’t quite make out what was being said. Her ears didn’t seem to want to work right. She frowned in concentration.

  “To borrow from the Americans Master Antonius is so fond of, having her drink Aquinas was sneaky, my prince.”

  Rafael chuckled from somewhere in front. “Perhaps, but it saves on lengthy explanations that will only end in eventual agreement. Time is not a luxury we currently possess.”

  Yaroslav’s arms tightened around her. “You are sure this must be done immediately?”

  “You cannot bring her before the senate wearing that heretic’s mark.”

  “Can I not leave her here?”

  “That would be unwise. You said yourself, she was seen by Senator Belus. He is bound to ask damaging questions if she is not with you during tonight’s session.”

  “That Venetian snake….” Yaroslav stepped down, and then again, and then again…His boot heels clicked with each downward step. “He has always been overly fond of that which does not concern him.”

  Thorn frowned. It felt like he was going down a staircase.

  “Senator Belus was raised among the Borgias. It is only natural that he acquired their taste for intrigue and blackmail.” Rafael sighed heavily. “However, it is his taste for live victims acquired during his time among the domini canis that truly concerns me.”

  Yaroslav growled. “Such poor taste….”

  “You were tsar in Kiev; surely you understand his appetite for power?”

  Yaroslav groaned. “Only too well. However, after withstanding nearly one full year of being tsar, I regained my sanity. I let my foolish cousin Roman take the throne, and all the petty squabbling that went with it.”

  Tsar? Thorn’s thoughts tripped and stuttered. A tsar was a…But that meant that…Yaroslav was a Russian prince?

  “Regained your sanity, eh?” Rafael laughed softly. “Was Byzantium better than Kiev?”

  “Byzantium was quieter than Kiev. I was able to continue my more personal interests, with far fewer people attempting to assassinate me.”

  Rafael snorted. “I see your point.” There was a loud metallic shriek and then the creak of a large door. “Speaking of your personal interests, and considering your arrival, do you have the…resources to complete this working by sunset?” Rafael’s voice, and their footsteps, echoed as though they had entered a large room.

  Yaroslav lifted Thorn and then sat her down on a very flat and very hard surface. “I will complete it.” Gently he straightened her legs and then cupped the back of her head to lay her back.

  “Knowing you, of that I have no doubt. However, to replace someone else’s work, line by line, requires a great deal of power. I would rather you did not collapse before the senate.”

  “As you have pointed out, it must be done.” Yaroslav tugged at the sash at Thorn’s waist, freeing the knot to her white dressing gown. “Have no doubt, I will recover.”

  “Recover, he says….” Fabric rustled and boot heels clicked, as though Rafael paced. “I am not a worker of magic, but I do have great age and the power that accompanies it.” His steps stopped. “I offer you a taste of
that power.”

  Yaroslav’s hands stilled. “Is it your wish that I…remain by your side?”

  Rafael chuckled, but the sound held a dark, smoky quality. “If that should be your desire, I would not refuse. The choice is yours. What say you to my offer?”

  “I see.” Yaroslav released a breath. “I would be honored to accept, under one condition.”

  Rafael groaned. “Always there is a condition.”

  Yaroslav snorted and moved Thorn’s hands to her sides. “Your essence is potent, my prince. Even a mere sip would be…compelling…to one such as I.”

  Rafael sighed. “Very well. What is your condition?”

  Yaroslav set his warm palm over Thorn’s heart. “Should something happen to me, I would have you take guardianship of Thorn and her descendants.”

  Rafael drew in an audible breath. “Her descendants? You have gained such knowledge?”

  Yaroslav brushed her long hair to one side. “It is a…pursuit of mine.”

  “I see.” Rafael’s light footsteps came to Thorn’s side. “I accept your condition. I should very much like to see this…pursuit…succeed.”

  Yaroslav snorted. “I will do my very best to endeavor, my prince.”

  Fabric rustled, and soft clinking announced the loosening of belts. Someone moved right next to her. She could actually feel body heat. It smelled like Yaroslav.

  What was happening? Thorn’s body was far too relaxed to lift even a finger, but, damnit, she wanted to see. She focused all her will, all her concentration on opening her eyes. She succeeded in lifting her lids a tiny bit.

  Something large loomed over her. It was Yaroslav’s bare back. He was sitting right next to her on whatever she was lying on. His head was bowed forward, and a bare arm was around his waist.

  The arm belonged to an equally shirtless Rafael, standing between Yaroslav’s knees, embracing him tightly, chest to chest. Rafael’s eyes were half lidded, and a sweet smile curved his lips. He rested his chin on Yaroslav’s shoulder and whispered, “Yes, partake of all you need.”

  Yaroslav gripped Rafael’s bare shoulder. His fingers tightened, his knuckles turning white. He gasped and lifted his head. His eyes were closed tight, and his lips parted. Scarlet trickled from the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips and shuddered. “I did not know you had lived quite so long.”