Legendary Beast

by Barbara J. Hancock

  With the grace and strength no other man in the world could equal, he rode her pleasure, reacted to her every response. When she tightened, he thrust harder. When she sighed, he teased back to draw out her inner quaking around him. She came again and again, until her knees gave out and she collapsed on her stomach. Only then did he allow his own release. He followed her down to the mattress, but he held his full weight back from crushing her even as he cried out her name and filled her with his hot seed.

  They fell asleep bathed in the soft ruby light of Madeline’s persistently glowing sword.

  * * *

  Lev woke and disengaged himself from Madeline’s embrace. Her lovely nude form sprawled across him and he was sorely tempted to wake her, but he quietly slid from the bed instead. Her breasts were tipped pink from his passionate suckling. Her lips were full and ripe from his kisses. He could feel the sensitized swell of his own lower lip where Madeline had nibbled and suckled until he thought he’d go crazy with need. She’d more than satisfied those needs after. And still, it was hard to leave her.

  He had to force himself away from the bed. He dressed quickly before another sigh or the tilt of her smile tempted him back to her arms.

  But as he tried to leave the room, he tripped over an object on the floor. He recognized it immediately. In their passion, they had knocked against the table beside the bed, and Madeline’s sketchbook had fallen on the floor.

  He took it with him out of the bedroom and down the hall. The sun had begun to rise. In an open breezeway between the main house and the guest wing, Lev paused for a moment to open the book. He perused the sketches of the white wolf he’d seen before. This time as he looked at them, he realized she’d drawn the white wolf filtered through Lev’s own emotions. He’d hated himself and his failure to save his family from Vasilisa for so long. And that morning when he’d sensed Madeline waking, his loathing for himself had been at its worst.

  It was his fear she’d captured. Not her own. She had always been courageous and optimistic. He’d been the one who had become terrified and jaded as the centuries dragged on.

  Lev flipped past the wolf sketches that had misled him about Madeline’s true feelings until he came to a sketch he hadn’t seen. He recognized the moment she’d captured immediately, even if he hardly recognized himself.

  He’d already decided that he would never leave her or Trevor. But now the true reason washed over him like an epiphany. Madeline loved him. She loved the man and the white wolf. Lev’s face flushed as he looked at the page. The sketch she’d drawn as he’d stood in between man and wolf, fighting one and blaming the other, was idealized. He could never have looked so strong and righteous. He had never been as heroic as he appeared in this sketch. Her love was apparent in every line, every charcoal smudge.

  Madeline had always had images in her mind. Before the curse, she’d embroidered her images in giant tapestries with needles and gem-colored threads. There was one self-portrait he remembered. He hoped it still hung at Bronwal so he could see it again. That one had been hyperrealistic. She had captured the beautiful warrior nature he’d fallen in love with from the first moment they met. She’d stood out among all the other women in the castle. Maybe it had been the intense way she seemed to soak up the world around her. She noticed everything, and often recreated what she’d seen on paper or fabric. She still did.

  He’d known before he’d seen the tapestry. Once he’d seen the image she’d sewn of herself wielding the ruby sword, he knew that she knew, too. She heard and accepted the sword’s Call to be his mate.

  Lev closed the book and tucked it under his arm. He might have to hide it. That sketch was her heart on the page. No one else should ever see it. But hiding the sketchbook would have to wait. There was someone he needed to see and something he needed to do before Madeline woke up.

  Chapter 25

  Madeline’s body was tender. She woke with a confused groan that turned into a sensual chuckle as she remembered the night before. Best of all, she remembered every night before. Each minute they’d spent together, in bed and out. Her memory had finally returned. Her fully embraced connection to the ruby sword had probably helped, but, as Vasilisa had said, she’d also needed time to heal. Time to recover and find herself again.

  The warm glow her memories of lovemaking had created was quickly dispelled when she realized she was waking up alone.

  Madeline jumped from the bed with nothing but the sheet to wrap around her. She stumbled into the room next door, only to nearly collapse in relief when she found Trevor kicking happily in his borrowed cradle. A Light Volkhvy servant greeted her from the rocking chair in the corner, and there was an empty bottle on the stand.

  “The queen advised us to let you rest,” the servant said. Madeline’s cheeks grew hot when the servant’s eyes twinkled in the morning light. Did the entire palace know that she and Lev were enjoying a passionate reunion?

  Lev.

  Where was Lev?

  Madeline leaned over to brush Trevor’s strawberry blonde curls from his forehead. He laughed and reached for the heavy locks of her scarlet hair that dangled in his face.

  “I have to find your father, but I’ll be back and we’ll spend the whole day together,” Madeline promised.

  She forced herself to shower in spite of the worried pounding of her heart. She dried and dressed in a light, short summery dress unlike anything she’d ever owned. Her memories were back, but it would take some time for her to be able to read the variations in the connection they shared. The ruby sword still glowed faintly in the corner of the bedroom. She took solace in that, even though she couldn’t quite sense where Lev had gone or what he was up to without her.

  He hadn’t forgiven the queen.

  That thought followed her outside and up the hill to a large gazebo that overlooked the sea. The structure had been built above the rose garden, but Madeline turned her attention away from the roses and toward the ocean. A gentle breeze caused the swings that ringed the gazebo to sway.

  Vasilisa was fine. She climbed from a path that led from the shore to the garden. When she saw Madeline, she joined her at the base of the gazebo steps.

  She was dressed all in white again. Madeline had been told that Vasilisa had worn violet for mourning in honor of the daughter she’d thought she’d lost. For hundreds of years, she’d worn nothing but shades of purple.

  “You told me I couldn’t trust him,” Madeline said when the queen paused on the stair.

  “I was wrong. About Lev and a great many things. He had attacked Anna. He had poisoned her with his bite because of his hatred for Volkhvy blood. She almost died. I thought he was lost. Completely feral. But he was only trying to protect his family. He thought she was trying to hurt Soren. He thought she was as guilty as he knew me to be,” Vasilisa said. Her story was briefly interrupted by Lev’s appearance on the cliff above the sea, where the white wolf had first appeared. They watched him walk down the hill toward them. “I’m sorry I misled you. I was honestly trying to keep you and Trevor safe,” Vasilisa continued.

  “I can keep us safe,” Madeline proclaimed.

  “With my help,” Lev said as he joined them.

  “Where have you been?” Madeline asked.

  He came to stand beside her. She noted the way he positioned his large body in between her and the tiny queen. The Light Volkhvy queen only smiled.

  “You will forever be a wild creature, Lev Romanov. I well remember how skittish you always were around me as a puppy. I suppose I justified that caution in the end,” Vasilisa said. The white of her Victorian-style dress gleamed like a truce flag in the sun. “I will leave you two to discuss what Lev has retrieved from Bronwal.”

  The queen walked away from the stairs rather than climbing them, and headed into the garden on the gravel path.

  “You’ve been to Bronwal?” Madeline asked.

  “Ivan has allowed the mirror to be repaired. Elena insisted,” Lev said. “I used the portal to fetch something you may
or may not remember.”

  Lev raised his hand toward her, and Madeline’s breath caught in her throat. A bright red gem in his palm had caught the sunlight, and it sparkled in a familiar gold setting. It was the ring he’d given her so long ago. The one that Vasilisa must have removed from her finger as she’d fallen asleep.

  “Will you be my wife, Madeline? As we were once upon a time?” Lev asked. He took the ring in his thumb and forefinger and held it up for her inspection. She loved it. She loved him. Of course, her answer would have been yes. Except there was another answer altogether.

  “I’ve always been your wife, Lev. And I will be forever. Even Ether couldn’t part us.”

  Madeline lifted her hand so he could slip the ring on her finger. It felt familiar and fine.

  “But I do think a celebration is in order. What would you say to a wedding? I think it’s high time the Romanovs reclaimed their former glory, and I have just the place and time in mind,” Madeline said.

  Lev swept her up into his arms and carried her back toward the palace. They had the whole day and the rest of their lives ahead to plan and play with Trevor.

  And with each other.

  Epilogue

  Straluci was shining in the spring sun. All of its stained-glass windows had been restored, and its copper-tipped towers gleamed. A strong wind whipped brilliantly colored flags above three of the towers, and on each flag the figure of a different wolf had been embroidered in vivid thread outlined in silver—black, red and white, of course. The embroiderer could be forgiven if the white wolf was just a little bit bigger and wilder and more heroic-looking than his brothers. After all, she was his bride.

  “I can’t stop crying,” Patrice chortled. The old loyal housekeeper grinned so widely that no one believed her. “It’s been so long since the Romanovs have had such a grand celebration!”

  Although Patrice hadn’t been asked to serve, she bustled around them all, straightening and arranging as she deemed necessary, often causing more confusion and chaos than relief. No one seemed to mind. Most eyes were damp. Most grins were wide.

  But none so wide as Ivan Romanov’s.

  Madeline’s brother-in-law stood on the rampart of the castle facing out to the pass below. Even at this distance, she could see him well. His black tuxedo stood out against the cream of the castle’s stone, as did his broad shoulders and tall physique. She had glanced out the open window of her rooms, and his defensive stance had caught her eye. His huge arms were crossed over his barrel chest, and his legs were planted as if it would take an army to move them. He looked as if he dared a group of Dark Volkhvy to try.

  As she watched, a graceful petite figure approached Ivan, gliding up behind him and taking his arm. Madeline would have known Elena even if the former ballerina hadn’t been dressed in sapphire-blue. She would have matched the gem in the hilt of her sword as well as her husband’s eyes. But at this distance, all Madeline could see was how her touch softened the big alpha. His shoulders eased and his arms uncrossed, and he turned away from his vigil to take his wife in his arms. As their mouths merged, Madeline stepped back from the window.

  Her dress was waiting.

  It hung in front of the wardrobe they’d borrowed from Bronwal. All of the furnishings in Straluci had come from the main Romanov castle. Both she and Lev appreciated modern amenities, but they also enjoyed the finer things from a time when craftsmen had created piece by piece with hand tools and extra care. The master bedroom was furnished with rowan pieces that had been hand-carved with a rhododendron design. It had been a gift from Lev to Madeline many years ago.

  She reached forward and traced the dips and ridges of the flower petals in appreciation. She remembered her joy in the gift and the way it had commemorated their lovemaking in the rhododendron field below Straluci. They had conceived Trevor in that field. She was glad to have the memories back.

  Her wedding dress sparkled against the light finish of the rowan wardrobe. It was ruby-red and a blend of modern and historic designs. Diaphanous chiffon created texture and movement, while layers upon layers gave only enough modesty to cover her breasts and hips. Pale skin would show through at the dips of her waist, the curve of her back and along the tall stretch of her legs as she walked. There was also a deep slit in the bodice from the high neck down to her upper stomach that revealed glimpses of pale chest only when she moved.

  The sparkle in the fabric came from ruby chips sewn at the neck like a choker and the high waist like a delicate belt. The sleeves were embroidered satin and bell-shaped. The lower edges of the cuffs extended all the way to the floor. She’d done the embroidered vines herself, and the rhododendron petals had been created with more ruby chips.

  There was a scratch at the door, and Madeline crossed to open it. She was expecting her sisters-in-law, and she wasn’t disappointed. Elena must have fetched Ivan from the ramparts and then left him to come to her. She and Anna came into the room with Patrice trailing behind.

  “Lev is going to love those,” Anna said, gesturing toward Madeline’s red satin underclothes. They matched the satin on her wedding gown’s sleeves.

  “I love vintage clothes,” Elena said. “Those are from the 1950s. The high waist of the panty looks amazing with your long legs. And that corset bra slays.”

  “Better than an actual corset,” Anna said. “Believe me. Vasilisa wears them sometimes under those Victorian dresses. I prefer pants.”

  Madeline fought the moisture that tried to fill her eyes. She blinked rapidly and turned away. She loved having her memories back, but she was also thrilled to have woken to these new sisters. She’d barely known Anna as Bell before the curse had fallen. She’d been one of many castle folk who hadn’t played much of a part in a warrior’s life. And Elena was fascinating. She’d been born twenty years ago, yet she was strong and wise. The perfect mate for their alpha.

  “We thought you might need some help with the finishing touches,” Patrice said. She had already walked over to the wardrobe. She reached to take down the dress from its hanger. Anna rushed over to help while Elena grasped Madeline’s shoulder. She had to tilt her chin to look up at Madeline, and by then, thankfully, the tears had dried.

  “Soren is with Lev, and Ivan is with the children. They are all behaving like angels for the black wolf, but Ivan looks like he might shift and run away at any moment,” Elena said. The image of the big alpha outnumbered by his nieces and nephew as well as his own son made Madeline laugh out loud, impending tears momentarily forgotten.

  “Anna’s twins might prove to be his downfall,” Patrice murmured as she prepared the dress to slip over Madeline’s head. “He’s already grumbling to Soren about future suitors.”

  “As if the red wolf needs any encouragement to be overprotective,” Anna said. She rolled her eyes, but they glimmered with good humor, picking up the green of her silky formal suit. She did wear dresses occasionally, but her clothes, like those of most of Bronwal’s denizens, were oddly eclectic, spanning centuries in style, mixing and matching in odd ways.

  Patrice wore her ancient apron over a sequined dress that hugged her generous curves. Anna called it a “pageant gown,” but seemed secretly pleased that the housekeeper had chosen a shade of blue to honor her former master, who insisted on being called an “employer” now.

  “Trevor has shifted twice. That we know of. But I’m sure the alpha can handle a pup,” Madeline said.

  She lifted her arms, and the ruby gown softly settled over her as the other women exclaimed. Her auburn hair was piled high on her head. There were strands in it that shone almost as brightly red as the wedding dress.

  “I remember when I first saw the tapestry. That’s when I began to know. I felt a sisterhood to the woman with the ruby sword. To you,” Elena said.

  “I remember sewing it. The truth was revealed to me, thread by thread. I was already in love with Lev,” Madeline said.

  “As were half the girls in the castle, if I recall,” Patrice grumbled. She straightene
d the fabric of Madeline’s dress with bustling fingers.

  “That’s true. Everyone was fascinated by the wild one,” Anna said thoughtfully.

  “Not you. You only ever had eyes for the red,” Patrice replied. She looked at the former waif of Bronwal and smiled. Her fingers stilled and dropped from a job even she could acknowledge as perfectly finished.

  “I always knew. Even before the emerald sword Called, I knew he was mine,” Anna said. “I just wasn’t sure if we would ever be together as we are now.”

  Elena, Madeline and Anna all looked at each other. It was time to go down for the ceremony, but each seemed to take a moment to appreciate all they’d overcome. Then Elena broke the sudden silence. She reached in one of Patrice’s pockets and pulled out a hammered copper circlet. Perfect rubies were spaced at decorative intervals along the band.

  “For my sister. The mistress of Straluci. Long may she shine,” Elena proclaimed. Tears came again to everyone then, but they were paired with beautiful smiles.

  * * *

  Lev straightened the fur-trimmed vest over his chest for the millionth time. He was dressed in the formal wear of his time. The bell sleeves of his rough silk tunic draped to the floor. With every step he took, he thought he would trip over them and fall. His leggings were new leather to match the body of the vest, but they’d yet to be broken in. They hugged the muscles of his legs uncomfortably close. His beard had been shaved. His hair had been trimmed, and its waves were held down with a hammered copper circlet around his head.

  All in all, he looked like a man about to be married.

  He couldn’t have been more uncomfortable—or more pleased. He would wear anything for Madeline. The excitement in the air of Straluci was long overdue. The halls were filled with laughter and conversation. The kitchens were rattling with celebratory meal preparations.