by Jane Godman
“It hasn’t always felt harmless,” Vigo said. “Once, there were opposing magic forces at work on this island. A shaman, who worked for good and his enemy, a sorceress who was determined that evil should prevail. We fought Chastel here and defeated him, although he faked his death. Since then, the island has known a sort of peace.”
“And you think that’s strong enough to counteract the evil of Fenrir’s blood?” Amber couldn’t help the shiver that shook her as Fenrir’s cage, still shrouded in its protective canvas cover, was winched onto the large, wheeled cart that Gunnar told them had been specially made for the purpose.
“It has to be.” His expression was serious. “There is nowhere else like Ulu.”
When everyone had left the boat, they began the long, slow process of moving the cart away from the dock. The landscape was hilly and inhospitable. Amber understood why there had been so much discussion about the difficulty of transporting Fenrir across the island.
“Why does it matter?” She kept her voice low, aware that she was casting nervous glances in the direction of the cage.
“He can’t hear you.” Vigo’s voice was reassuring.
“It feels like he can.” She drew a calming breath. No, it didn’t matter how hard she tried, she wasn’t going to be able to speak above a whisper. “Why does it matter where you do this? Why do you need to take him to the other side of the island?”
“That was where the sorceress lived. It was where she raised her pupil Chastel, and where Chastel had his headquarters when he lived here. It may be meaningless, but it feels symbolic.” He frowned. “Does that sound crazy?”
“Yes.” When his expression changed, she laughed. Maybe it was because she did it so rarely, but there was something about her laughter that made his heart soar. “It sounds crazy, but it makes a curious kind of sense.”
There were no roads on Ulu and moving the cart with its heavy load, as well as their tents and provisions, was a slow process. The boat would wait at the dock until their return. Once they were out of sight of the vessel, Vigo raised a hand for them to stop.
“Up ahead is the sheltered cove where we camped last time we were here. It will be dark in an hour or two. I suggest we put up the tents, get something to eat and sleep here tonight. That way, we’ll be refreshed and ready for the long walk across the island to the fortress.”
He didn’t add and for what lies ahead. He didn’t need to. Amber could hear the words echoing in the thoughts of each of her companions. The indecision that had gripped them on the boat was gone now. Steely determination had replaced it. But Vigo was right. They needed to do this properly and scrambling across rocky island terrain in darkness was not going to work.
Madden, Lowell, Samson, and Wilder erected the tents. Vigo went with Gunnar and the guards to organize the best position for Fenrir’s cage.
“I guess that means it’s down to us to organize dinner,” Kristof said.
Amber didn’t want to be paired with him, but she couldn’t exactly explain that to him. Spoken out loud, her dislike for him would sound irrational and childish. Luckily, organizing dinner didn’t mean having to shift and hunt with Kristof. Wilder, having explained that there were few wild animals on Ulu—just the occasional rabbit or rat, hardly hearty fare for a pack of wolves—had come prepared. There were vacuum packs of raw meat and bottles of beer and fresh water. If they remained on Ulu for more than a day or two, they would be forced to eat canned food. Amber shrugged. Working at Norway Tech, she had gotten used to human food. It wasn’t as satisfying as raw meat—and nothing could ever match the thrill of her own hunt and kill—but it came down to survival. She looked up and encountered Kristof’s blank stare. It always came down to survival.
We don’t need a fire for warmth, but it might be good for atmosphere.
He didn’t respond.
“Did you hear me?”
He frowned. “You didn’t say anything.”
I spoke in your head. She projected the words at him. Hard. A telepathic shout. Kristof didn’t flinch.
One of us is broken, and I don’t think it’s me.
“I said maybe we should have a fire. For atmosphere.”
“Oh.” He gave her his composed smile, reminding her of a salesperson who has encountered a difficult client. “Good idea. I’ll collect some wood.”
He went off toward the beach in search of driftwood while Amber unpacked the food and drink. Even though she was busy with her task, her eyes kept returning to the cage. The light was fading now, making it harder to see with its dark covering. It didn’t matter. She knew what was beneath that canvas. And somehow, even though Fenrir lay as still and silent as if he was in a coma—the effect, Gunnar had explained of the mystical chains that bound him—she knew he was aware of what was to come. Even worse, she knew his thoughts were focused on her.
You can’t know that. Her hand clenched hard on the handle of the knife she was using to slit open the packs of meat. It slipped, causing her grip on the hilt to loosen. The blade plunged in a downward arc, slicing through the material of her jeans and into her left thigh. She dropped the knife and pressed a hand to her leg as blood welled between her fingers.
“Oh, fuck.” She glanced around, seeking a first-aid kit among the items they had carried with them from the boat.
Samson had just finished erecting one of the tents, and was the nearest person to her. He tilted his nose in the air as he caught the scent of fresh blood. His long strides brought him to her side in an instant. “Wolf down.”
“It’s nothing. Just a stupid accident. I need an adhesive bandage.”
“You need Vigo. He’ll fix this in no time.” Samson loped away from her toward the cage.
Seconds later, Vigo was kneeling beside her. Amber was so embarrassed she didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. “I’ll bet you didn’t expect your first injury as leader to be a self-inflicted one.”
“Let’s take a look at this.” Before she could respond, he slid one hand beneath her thighs and the other around her waist and scooped her into his arms.
Amber was about to utter a protest, to demand to be put down because she was perfectly capable of walking. Then her feminine instincts—ones she had been completely unaware of—took over. She liked this. Liked feeling Vigo’s hard chest muscles against her side. Liked surrendering and pressing her cheek to his heart. Liked letting herself be swept away. She could try to tell herself Just this once. But she would be fooling herself . . . or making the attempt. This was something she could get used to.
It was a wolf thing. Although she was an alpha female, Vigo was an alpha male. Her alpha male. Submitting to him, letting him care for her. They were the most natural things in the world.
Vigo carried her into one of the tents. There were two side-by-side sleeping bags set out on top of camping mattresses. In the middle was a flashlight. Vigo flicked the switch on this and illuminated the interior of the tent.
“I need to get you out of those jeans.” He smiled, his eyes warming her. “I was planning to say that later . . . in different circumstances.”
The breath left Amber’s lungs in a single dramatic whoosh, leaving her incapable of speech or movement. The only thing she could do with any accuracy was focus on how aroused she was. It was as if Vigo had just given her a mild electric shock, one that left her nipples aching and her clit tingling. And he knew it. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he knew exactly how she was feeling.
She lay back as he undid the button and zipper on her jeans, feeling the brush of his warm, callused fingers on her belly and hips. Slowly, he eased the tight garment down over her thighs, taking a moment to remove her boots and socks before he cast her jeans aside.
“Cindy lent me two pairs of jeans and I’ve already ruined one.” Amber attempted a joke. Her voice came out slightly high-pitched and breathy, but it worked, which was what she’d been aiming for.
“I think she’d be happy to know you’re okay.” Vigo smiled as he held her th
ighs apart, lifting her left leg slightly so he could get a better look at the injury. “And you are. This is a deep scratch. It doesn’t even need stitches.”
Amber looked down at the cut on her leg. “It’s still bleeding.”
“I can make it stop.” Gold fire flared in the depths of his eyes. “If you’ll let me.”
Let him? Why would she stop him? “Jenny said you are a healer. Is that what you are going to do? You are going to heal me?”
Vigo bent his head, flicking out his tongue and licking away a tiny splatter of blood from her thigh. “Wolf healing.”
Amber’s heart began to pound wildly as she realized what he meant. As a child, her mother had licked her injuries clean. It was what wolf families did. Comforting, cleansing, reinforcing the pack bond, and, of course, fixing hurts.
As Vigo covered the wound on her leg with his mouth, she knew this was more. So much more. At first it hurt. His tongue was warm, wet, and slightly rough as it moved back and forth over her damaged flesh. It felt like fingers of fire were moving directly from the point of contact through her whole body. Helpless, Amber slumped back, her hands moving to his hair.
Then it stopped being painful. She could almost feel his saliva soothing her torn flesh, licking away the hot blood and closing the edges of the wound. As Vigo lost himself in the rhythm of licking and tasting her, she gave a soft moan of pleasure. Was she meant to be turned on by this? “Meant to be” ceased to matter. She gave herself up to the whirlpool of sensation. It was one of the sweetest feelings she had ever known.
As his tongue continued to glide over her flesh, Vigo moved a hand up her leg, pushing the elastic of her underwear aside. Amber gasped as his fingers slid up and down between her folds. She was so wet one finger slipped easily inside her as his thumb began to rub her clit. Achingly aroused, lost in a haze of sensation, she circled her hips in time with his movements. Within seconds, her whole body was bucking and writhing with the orgasm that thundered through her.
Limp as a wrung out rag, Amber flopped back onto the sleeping back, allowing the flurry of aftershocks to take over. Slowly, Vigo raised his head, his eyes slightly glazed as he stared down at her.
“Better?”
“I don’t know.” Her breathing hadn’t quite returned to normal. “I have no idea what I’m feeling, but it’s good.” She leaned up on her elbows, studying the faint pink mark on her leg where the edges of the cut had already knit together. “If I’d known getting hurt could be so much fun, I’d have done it more often.”
* * *
Even though last time the brotherhood had been to Ulu had been fraught with fear and danger, it had been nothing like this. Last time the concerns had centered on Chastel. They knew there would be a fight at the end of their time here, and they had been geared up for it. The adrenaline had flowed and their wolf instincts had been on high alert. This time, the reason for Vigo’s disquiet was clear. It was contained within a large, rectangular shape. In the darkness the cage was barely visible, but that made it more, not less, menacing.
The campfire was dying down now, the chill breeze sweeping off the Tuxedni Glacier stirring the embers and sending streamers of smoke over the tops of the tents. Vigo, Samson, Wilder, Lowell, and Madden were taking the first watch, allowing the four guards to sleep. Gunnar, caught up in a private hell that had begun when he took care of a young werewolf god many centuries ago, paced nearby. Vigo suggested Amber and Kristof got some sleep.
“Tomorrow will be hard and you are new to this.”
Although Kristof went to his tent without protest, Amber tilted her chin in that stubborn way with which he was already becoming only too familiar. “You’re sending me to bed?”
For the first time, he placed his hands on her in front of other people. Gripping her shoulders, he drew her closer. Not quite into his arms, but the temptation was there, shimmering in the inch wide gap between their bodies. He’d have given anything in that instant for normality. To be able to take her hand and lead her into their tent, or better still into a comfortable bedroom. To wake up with her the next day and decide to spend a lazy morning in bed. To do everyday things with her. To be a couple. A sense of loss, bitter and sharp, hit him, burning his throat and stinging the back of his eyelids.
Even if they weren’t on Ulu, if that cage wasn’t positioned a few yards away, if they didn’t have to execute the foulest werewolf of them all on the following day . . . A memory of the email he’d opened in his hotel room in Helsinki intruded into Vigo’s thoughts. It was a timely reminder of why he could never have the normality he craved. Not when it came to a relationship.
“I’m not sending you anywhere, Amber, but there’s no point in everyone staying awake staring at a canvas-covered cage.”
She stared at him suspiciously for a moment or two. “I don’t want special treatment.”
“You won’t get it. That’s not how the brotherhood works.”
Those words appeared to reassure her. With a nod, she turned away and headed for the tent where he had tended to her injury earlier. The memory of that encounter instantly tightened his chest and hardened his cock. The feeling was discordant and inconvenient, which just about summed Amber up. He’d known her a few days and she’d tilted his life off course. It felt fucking amazing.
He returned to where the others were seated around the fire, aware of his friends’ eyes on him.
“Does this mean there will be no single members of the brotherhood soon?” Samson jerked his head in the direction of Amber’s tent.
“No.” Vigo made sure his tone left no room for further conversation.
They remained silent for some time, looking up eventually when a figure approached them from the beach. The woman appeared ghostly in the moonlight, her long, white-gold hair lifting in the breeze and her pale skin giving her an ethereal appearance. It hadn’t occurred to Vigo that she would sense their arrival, or that he should have sought her permission to be there. He should have known better. Nothing happened on Ulu without Teresa, the legendary Shadow Wolf, finding out about it.
The group of men got to their feet as Teresa approached Samson, holding out her hands to her son-in-law.
“You didn’t bring my daughter to me this time?” Her voice was sad.
“Don’t be greedy.” Samson bent to kiss her cheek. “We both know that Valetta was only here a few weeks ago on one of her many visits.”
Her laughter rang out. “See how he prevents me from becoming a diva?” She turned to Samson’s companions with a mock pout. Her joking manner dispelled some of the otherworldliness of her appearance. She gestured for them to be seated as she joined them beside the fire. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
As Shadow Wolves, Teresa and her daughter Valetta, Samson’s wife, possessed mystical powers beyond those of other werewolves. While Valetta was able to lead a normal life in the human world, Teresa was unable to leave her spiritual home here on Ulu.
“We only decided recently that we would be coming here,” Vigo explained.
Teresa tilted her head back as though scenting the air. “Your task is not a pleasant one.” It was a statement rather than a question. Her gaze settled on Fenrir’s cage and her eyes widened. “You have brought evil to my island.”
“Our task is to destroy evil, and we chose Ulu as the place to do it because we believe that this island has the unique power to absorb the wickedness we must eliminate.” Vigo outlined their plans for Fenrir. He knew how protective Teresa was toward her island home. Both its fragile ecosystem and its magical powers were finely tuned. She would do all she could to maintain the balance.
“Will you help us?” Vigo asked. Teresa was part of Ulu. He felt strongly that her benign energy would help the island neutralize Fenrir’s evil, but he didn’t know how she would feel about assisting in an execution.
Teresa nodded. “Of course. I know from Valetta how hard this fight has been and how high the stakes are. But there is one among you who feels conflicted.”
Vigo looked at Gunnar. He hadn’t joined them and still paced restlessly back and forth some distance away. “We call our friend Gunnar, but he is Tyr, the god of honor and justice. He raised Fenrir as his own son and, no matter how much he sees the need to bring his wickedness to an end, it hurts him to do it.”
Teresa was silent for a few minutes as she watched Gunnar. “Fenrir’s death will end the fight but not the pain.” Her words resonated through the group. She was right. The decision to kill him was already hurting them all.
“Being the good guys is fucking difficult,” Samson growled.
“You are correct, even if your words are not quite the ones I’d have chosen. Doing the right thing comes with its own price.” Teresa rose gracefully. “I will see you tomorrow at the old fortress.”
Chapter Ten
Amber woke with a feeling of disorientation. She hadn’t expected to sleep, and now she had that vague feeling of unease as, between sleeping and waking, she knew there was something about this day she didn’t like, but she couldn’t quite recall what it was.
Her memory wasn’t helped by the warm, muscular body pressed up against her back. Even more distracting was the unmistakable ridge of a large, rock-hard erection pressing insistently between her pantie covered buttocks.
“If that’s not you, Vigo . . .”
He lowered his head to nuzzle the back of her neck bringing his hands around to cover her breasts. “Were you hoping for someone else?”
She turned to face him, encountering a blaze of passion in the golden depths of his eyes that took her breath away. “No.” Never.
He tipped her onto her back, his movements slow and purposeful as he removed her underwear and T-shirt. His fingertips skimmed her body with such gentleness that her heart constricted. His caresses were possessive, igniting tiny fires along her jawline, down the line of her throat, across the hardened tip of one breast and tracing the soft flesh of her belly.
