Wolfsbane

by Nathalie Gray

  He was offering thanks to her when she should be the one lavishing praise on his head. She’d come so close. Scarlet chanced a peek back at Lothar, who lay on his front, his poor mangled form rising ever-so-slightly with each labored breath, his once-luxurious, golden-brown hair a mess of bloody clumps. She knew he didn’t have long. It’d almost be a mercy to finish him off now. But there had been enough violence already.

  Keeping an eye out for Lothar, in case he rose from near-death in some unnatural feat of willpower, Scarlet silently caressed Fredrick’s head until his breathing had slowed to a more regular rhythm. Her right hand was dribbling blood and so she kept it in a tight fist.

  Scarlet looked up. The nearly full moon was low in the sky, and appeared ready to sink among the trees. How her life had changed in such a short time. Only the night before she was sharing Fredrick’s bed, when tonight, she’d been captured, rescued and now was needed again.

  “We need to get moving,” Fredrick said, clutching at his side while struggling to sit.

  “Can’t we wait a little bit? You’re still too hurt to walk.”

  “I can’t be seen this way.”

  While he sat on his heels, Scarlet realized he was right. He couldn’t be seen this way, bloodied all over, naked except for her too-small cloak. She offered her arm when he meant to stand, which he took without meeting her gaze.

  “Don’t be ashamed for needing my help,” she offered softly.

  “It’s not for needing your help that I’m ashamed…it’s for exposing you to all this.” His sweeping gesture encompassed himself, Lothar, the demolished door and everything else around them.

  “Nothing here happened without good reason. I owe you my life.”

  His tight grin pulled his bleeding lips. “Good, I hate being in debt.” He turned toward Lothar, his expression hardening. “Let me finish this before we leave.”

  Scarlet held his arm. “No, please, let’s just leave. He’ll meet his end when it’s meant to happen.”

  Fredrick stared at prone form for a long time, as though gauging the man’s condition.

  “He’s as good as dead,” Scarlet said as she put her hand over Fredrick’s arm. “Please.”

  She couldn’t stomach the idea of Fredrick slicing a dying man’s throat, even if the man in question was Lothar.

  As she wrapped her cloak around his narrow waist and secured it with a tight knot, Fredrick stared down at her then raised a hand to touch her cheek. But he looked at it, at the blood-encrusted and broken fingernails, and let it drop by his side with a disgusted curve to his lip.

  Scarlet looked back only once as they made their way toward the road. Between trees, she could still see Lothar’s form lying where he’d fallen, his face in the dirt. She tried to feel sorry for the man but couldn’t.

  Turning back toward what lay ahead, she walked by Fredrick’s side, occasionally glancing up at his face. He looked displeased to the highest degree.

  Scarlet pulled her dress tighter over her chest. “How did it happen?”

  He must have known what she meant for he stared at her a long time before replying. “A rabid man attacked me while I was on a hunting trip in the north. I never saw him until it was too late. He had fangs coming out of his mouth, it was horrible. I didn’t know it then, but he was changing. We fought, and I managed to wound him before he threw me down and tried to rip my throat open. The only thing that saved me was the sound of my hunting party looking for me. The horn must have scared him for he just left. There was blood everywhere, mine and his.”

  “Did you…change right away?”

  Fredrick shook his head. “Not until the next full moon. I didn’t know what was wrong with me, I had no idea…”

  Her heart swelled at his obvious grief. “It must have been terrifying, not knowing what was happening to you.”

  She could just imagine the panic, the sheer terror she’d feel at changing into something so dreadful. Not knowing if she’d change back, if she’d stay the beast forever, locked in her own body, looking out through eyes both foreign and known—it must have been terrible. Scarlet squeezed his forearm.

  “It wasn’t as terrifying as changing back and not knowing where I’d been or where I was. And the whole time wondering what I’d done.” Fredrick stared at her intently. “While I’m it, I don’t recognize anyone nor can I tell ally from foe. I could attack a friend and not know it.”

  Scarlet shook her head. “You recognized me, I could see it in your eyes. It was you.”

  “But I don’t remember,” he growled, his hand balling into a fist. “How can I trust myself when I can’t remember?”

  Scarlet forced herself not to wince at the pain in her arm when he squeezed it. “I trust you,” she said.

  He must have realized he was holding on too tight because he grimaced and released her arm.

  They kept the road to their left as they walked back toward Innsbruck. The whole time, Fredrick maintained a rigid expression, occasionally glancing at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.

  A small rustling sound caused her to raise both hands protectively. Fredrick froze by her side. Extending his arm in front of her, he tilted his head up, inhaled deeply then turned away.

  A form moved out from between trees to their right and approached.

  Scarlet let out a great sigh as Frank emerged from the gloom with an expression of intense relief on his old face.

  “Praise the Lord, I’m glad you’re both all right. I have fresh horses waiting a bit farther down the road. We have to hurry.” Scarlet realized Fredrick still had his arm extended protectively in front, even if he were hardly in any condition to defend her. Scarlet’s heart swelled nonetheless. His first instinct had been to offer protection. She looked up into his face, noted the resolve etched deep. Her love flared into a tiny sun that warmed her heart. The old distrust, which had clung to her with such tenacity, couldn’t keep her soul from reaching out to this man. She loved him, and he, in turn, seemed to feel something for her. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be there, bleeding and hurt.

  Frank left, one last concerned glance for Fredrick. A jingle of harnesses heralded his return and he emerged on the road with the reins to four horses in his fist. “I sent the lads down to the village, so that should give us time.”

  With some difficulty, but his look barring any offer of help, Fredrick mounted a horse, and after Frank and Scarlet followed suit, the trio kicked their mounts into a brisk trot.

  Scarlet spent the time looking over her shoulder, afraid someone would spot them. Their good fortune held, and they didn’t have to share the road but once, forcing them into the woods until the wagon had passed. With harvest time over, the roads were quiet.

  By the time they came in view of the moat the following evening, with the moon profiling the castle in bluish tones, Fredrick leaned against his horse’s neck. “Just give me a moment.”

  Her heart in her throat, for his pain must have been unbearable after such a long ride, Scarlet stopped herself from trying to help Fredrick. His pride had suffered enough.

  Frank meant to take Fredrick’s reins but he pulled out of reach. Nodding, the old man led them around the castle and over a narrow bridge on the moat. A goat bleated a tremulous greeting as they crossed the field. A simple wooden door appeared as they rounded the corner of a small annex. She couldn’t even tell to which part of the castle it led. They left the horses there, Frank and Scarlet exchanging a worried look while Fredrick did his best to dismount gracefully.

  “You need to rest, Master. It’s only a night away,” Frank commented somberly as he pushed the door in with his shoulder.

  “What is?” asked Scarlet.

  Frank closed the door behind them. A brass oil lamp hung just inside the doorway. He grabbed it.

  “The full moon,” Fredrick said, taking his arm from around Scarlet’s shoulders and leaning against the wall. The cloak tied at his waist was soaked in blood where the skin touched. A gash in his flank oozed thickly. He lo
oked down at himself and snarled a curse. “She managed to hurt me one last time.”

  “Where can I send the lads to retrieve her?” Frank asked, not looking overly concerned about the lady’s fate.

  “Let the animals have her. She’ll at least do good in death if she never did in life.” Fredrick raked a hand in his hair.

  Frank nodded. “And him?”

  “Same.”

  After putting a long hand over the old man’s shoulder, Fredrick threw an oblique glance at Scarlet, lowered his gaze then walked away.

  Scarlet must not have done a good job hiding the hurt for Frank drew close and wrapped his arm around her. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up. And Ute has been asking about you without pause. I don’t think the woman breathes.”

  Looking back once where Fredrick was disappearing around a corner, Scarlet felt as though someone had just doused her with glacial water. Perhaps he’d saved her to repay his debt and not because of any other reason. And she had left his bed already once—ran away like a thief, in fact—and maybe Fredrick was loath to suffer the same treatment twice.

  It was just as well, Scarlet thought as she tried to keep the lump in her throat from rising. For where could a union such as theirs ever hope to go? She was a street woman, an orphan without coin or name. And she was mortal.

  Chapter Sixteen

  All that blood.

  It was dripping down her front, between her breasts, down past her navel. Fredrick took a step away from her.

  “Scarlet…my God.”

  She stood with her arms outstretched toward him, but he couldn’t move. Looking down at his hands, he gasped. Covered in blood.

  “What have I done?” he asked, his voice breaking.

  Fredrick snapped up in his bed. He was so happy to wake up that he flopped back down and rubbed the sheets on either side of him. What a horrible dream.

  His hand reached outward but encountered nothing. No one.

  Scarlet should be here. She belonged here. But he couldn’t have let her come into his room last night, not with the way he’d looked, bleeding, angry and half-coherent. She’d seen enough without being exposed to that as well. After a long, hot bath though, he’d regretted not having invited her. Not only because his flesh hungered for hers, but also because he’d wanted to explain everything.

  And still did.

  Fredrick rummaged around the room, found his best trousers and shirt, took care of his hair for the first time in…he couldn’t remember the last time he pulled a comb through his hair instead of just his fingers, and slipped into supple leather boots that came high over his calves. A quick check in the mirror made him wince. He looked gaunt and even paler than usual, if that were at all possible. And his side still bled. Not the image he wanted to present her. But she’d have to take him the way he was. Monster and all.

  Fredrick von Innsbruck was going to ask this woman to accept him the way he was, and he would ask only once. If Scarlet refused—and God knew there were plenty of reasons to—then he’d make his peace with living under the same roof as her, even if her heart would be forever closed to him.

  Fredrick found Ute in the kitchen. She must have known why he was there for she pointed to the window.

  The door clattered against the wall when he stepped into the pale dawn light. Tendrils of fog still clung to glistening grass blades. On second thought, he whirled around and made for the rose garden instead.

  His heart leaped with joy when he saw them beyond the gate. He pushed the grate in and slipped inside. Jogging to the end of the garden, Fredrick let his hand touch every bush he could reach. In the corner, some of his favorites still clung to their stems, petals browned a bit by the night’s cold but looking exactly as he remembered them. He deftly broke one coral-colored rose high under its head so there wouldn’t be any thorns. Its subtle smell made him smile. Just like Scarlet.

  Fredrick ignored the many curious stares of servants out and about as he marched through the small field, jumped the fence then jogged down to the lake, which served as moat to his castle. Scarlet wasn’t near the water’s edge. Nor was she sitting on the bench he’d built many years ago. Looking around, Fredrick felt panic rise in his throat like bad wine. What if she’d gone? Again.

  A faint scent caressed his nostrils. He sighed in relief. Lavender.

  He walked farther away from the castle. A sharp bend in the lake’s edge created a little creek of sorts. He’d played there as a boy, catching crayfish among the rocks…

  “No time for this,” he snarled under his breath.

  He was about to bare his soul to someone in a way he’d never done before. No time for reminiscing about when he was a boy. That was his other life, back before—back when he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Fredrick took a deep breath. He’d ask once. He’d accept whatever answer she gave him, even if it tore his heart out. He crested over a small hill overlooking the place where the lake became a river and where the forest was claiming back its territory.

  Then he saw her. And his resolve failed.

  But before he could turn away and reconsider, Scarlet stood from the rock on which she sat and waved at him. Ears too damn good. A low moan escaped him.

  His legs mechanically took him down the grassy slope. A stitch at his side made him look down. Blood had seeped through the bandage and shirt. But too little blood was there. Any other man would still be in bed recuperating. Any other man might have bled to death. Another reminder of his dark nature. By the time he came up to Scarlet, who looked as pale and drawn as he did, Fredrick could think of nothing to say to this woman. The rose cradled in his palm felt cool and moist. He looked down at it.

  “We must talk, Fredrick,” she began, stopped then tucked a wayward strand behind her ear. Her hand was bandaged.

  His heart filled with dread just as his belly tightened with yearning, but he fought both down. He brought the rose up and offered it to her. “It’s a bit bruised, I fear.”

  With a smile she took it. “It’s beautiful. My thanks.”

  Fredrick fought the urge to gather her up in his arms and never let go. But he couldn’t let his emotions overwhelm her. Or him.

  She wore her servant uniform, and Fredrick surmised she’d at least spend the day at Innsbruck. If nothing else, he still had a few hours.

  Her dark gaze settled on his face, tracing it as though she were seeing it for the first time. Or the last. “I’ve always wanted to see the world, ever since I was very little,” she said, turning toward the lake. “There’s so much to see out there.”

  She didn’t see Fredrick press a hand against his chest, looking down for a moment before putting on a stoic front. No use trying to convince her to stay now, not with what she was telling him. He knew what was coming. Fredrick could almost hear it. I’m sorry, Fredrick, but I can’t live like this. Your changing into this thing every moon would be too much. I’m afraid. I’m afraid of you.

  Scarlet turned back toward him. “Everything that’s happened here… It made me realize something. What I’ve seen—”

  “Just say it.” Fredrick regretted his sharp tone, but at the same time was unable to spend another second waiting for her to say she was leaving.

  She looked like a woman ready to throw herself into a lake, knowing she didn’t swim. “I’d like to stay here, if I could. The people here are nice to me. I’d sure work for my keep though, and Ute already—”

  Fredrick drowned the rest of her sentence with his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and held her until she grunted in protest.

  “I can’t…breathe.”

  He released her a little but didn’t let go. He’d been ready to collapse into a heap on the ground and now, now he could see himself flying with the birds! Fredrick buried his face in her frizzy hair. “Scarlet, Scarlet…” he repeated under his breath.

  Her wiry arms held him tightly, which burned his wounded side. It was his turn to grunt.

  “Oh, I’m so sorry,” Scarlet said,
retreating to arm’s length and looking down at the spot of blood on his shirt.

  “It’s nothing, just a little hole,” Fredrick replied, unable to keep the foolish grin from spreading wide. He hadn’t smiled this way in a long, long time.

  When Scarlet cupped his face with her hands, which were delightfully rough and gentle at the same time, and pulled him to her, Fredrick closed his eyes and let joy fill his heart. If he lost everything else tomorrow, he’d have this moment.

  Their mouths connected. And when they did, when her lips pressed tenderly against his, Fredrick felt the tension of the past two years shed from his shoulders as if someone had lifted off him a heavy, wet cloak.

  “Scarlet,” he murmured against her lips.

  Their kiss became more passionate. As they clutched at each other’s clothes, their breathing accelerated. Fredrick kept murmuring her name. He couldn’t stop nor did he want to. Ever.

  He gathered her coppery hair in his hands and inhaled deeply. Scarlet chuckled. This had to be the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. When he cupped her backside and squeezed her hard against him, the grin slid off her face. Lust blazed behind her dark eyes.

  “I want you,” she whispered, dropping the rose and pulling at the lapels of his shirt.

  “Oh, but you can have me!”

  He tried to do it gently, he really did, but he ended up pulling too hard on the ribbon holding her collar together and it broke. The small ripping sound froze him. Had he scared her? His doubts returned tenfold. He couldn’t be trusted to control himself, not when he’d shown time and time again how his temper kept surfacing at the least opportune moment. Scarlet was too precious. She deserved better.

  As he was about to pull away, Scarlet grabbed him by a fistful of linen collar. Without a word, her gaze unwavering against his, she unlaced his shirt down to his navel. The breeze caressed his bare chest. She finished with a quick jerk. His shirt hung loosely on his shoulders, partly out of his trousers, partly in.

  “I told you, Fredrick. I trust you. You don’t scare me. I’ve seen true evil. I can spot it a league away. And you’re not it.”