To Eternity

by Daisy Banks

  “Quickly, Sian. Do it now!”

  Her heart hammering, she lurched up from the ledge to grasp onto the last two foot of the mountain. She gripped hard, wrapping one arm around the wedge of stone, for she had to hang with her feet swinging above the small ledge where Magnus remained.

  Nothing stood between her and eternity. She held tight with her one arm while she reached up with the other and scrabbled about with her ungloved hand. Despite the cold, she used her fingers to feel for a loose stone amid a tiny depression. The wind tugged at her, howling as though her presence desecrated this venerated place.

  She sniffed in the tears she couldn’t shed. The very second she thought she must be defeated by the mountain and her fears, a fat pebble lodged under her hand. Grasping it fast, she swallowed down her triumph. Even though she had the stone, the danger remained. If she fell, she might drag Magnus with her in a tumble down the cliff face. She still had to get to him safely. She drew in an unsteady breath. There could be no elation until she stood in his embrace again, with both feet planted on the rocks, safe from the wind whipping at her, sheltered from the bitter cold that numbed her fingers and robbed her of her senses. Most of all, she needed his warmth to soothe her. “I’ve got it.”

  A second of adrenaline-filled terror as she let go and she slipped into his waiting arms. She clung fast to him until she could breathe easy again. She slid the stone into the smallest pocket of her jacket. Her movements jerky, almost uncontrolled, she tugged her thermal glove back on.

  Somehow, she held it together until they descended the worst of the rocky climb and reached the grassy shelf beneath the clouds several hundred feet below the summit. Only there, did she sink to her knees. Tears rolled fast. Ignoring his reassurances, she sobbed, shoving the balaclava away from her mouth to ease her breathing. Finally, she calmed and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I’m sorry, but I’ve never been that afraid in my life.”

  Magnus knelt to put his arms around her. “I know, and you have nothing to apologize for. You are victorious. I am so very proud of you.” He caressed her cheek.

  Sian buried her head against his chest, dabbing off tears spilled on his quilted anorak. “Can we go down the mountain now?”

  “Yes. You have what you need to claim your place.”

  She glanced up as he helped her stand. “I want nothing but to be your mate, you know it.”

  Magnus gave a slow nod. “Indeed, but now you have been tested by the mountain. You will be the alpha female of our pack for all time.”

  “I wanted it so I can be with you,” she whispered.

  “I know. When we get back to the cottage, give me the crystal.” He slipped his arm around her. “I’ll take your stone to have it mounted in gold for you.”

  “Gold?”

  “Yes. Welsh gold. The last amulet made was my mothers, many generations ago. Now a new one is needed. The goldsmith will be as proud to make it as I am to have the ordering of it.”

  She stuffed her hand into her pocket and drew out the round quartz pebble. Sparks of light bounced back to her from the veining in the smooth stone. “I’ll never forget the day I found it.”

  “I know, neither will I.” Magnus bent and covered her lips with his.

  All other sensations diminished but for his arm around her, the taste of his mouth, the heat of his tongue twined with hers, and the growing understanding of what she’d achieved. Magnus drew her closer still, deep into his embrace, so the wind no longer buffeted against her. “I want to have all of you.”

  She gazed up into the depths of his eyes.

  “Soon.”

  “I know. I’m ready. I’m not afraid, I swear it.”

  Huddled next to him, she let go the pinnacle of Caer Howld and relaxed into his warmth. She clutched the pebble tight and allowed his body heat to seep into her chest before she relaxed enough to take his palm with hers and set the pebble in the hollow of his hand. His gray gaze locked on hers. Despite the climbing gear, the mist, and the plethora of her fears, the promise of his love filled her.

  They took the first steps of their descent on the grassy slope beneath the rocky challenge, arms entwined as they headed farther down the hillside.

  Each step on turf and stone brought the process of her change so much nearer in her thoughts.

  The slope of the hillside decreased until, at the last, they danced their way down. They raced until, with a few feet or so of the descent left, he caught her to him. Her toes skimming the shale, slithering over the grass, she zigzagged with him as if they tangoed down the hill.

  She screamed a victory yell as they reached the spongy turf of the valley floor. “Wonderful!”

  “Yes, you are.”

  The laugh on his face stilled her. For along with the pleasure, amusement, and relief, she found something else. The gleam of the hunter sparked in his glance. “Tonight, Magnus?”

  “If I have half your courage, yes.”

  “And if you don’t?”

  He smiled, pressed a kiss to her lips. “Then, you will sleep soundly until I do.”

  * * * *

  Back at the cottage, Magnus stowed their climbing gear away. Once she’d unlaced her boots and taken them off, she stripped off the jacket so she could hurry up the stairs to the bathroom. She turned on the taps to run a hot bath. Though they’d had the heater on in the car, she still shivered. The cold from the mountaintop seemed to have sunk into her bones. The November sun had tracked fast through the late afternoon as they drove back.

  “I’ll make some soup for you while you bathe,” he called up the stairs.

  “I won’t be too long, but I need to warm up.” She closed the door and stared at her reflection until she had to wipe away a mist of condensation. Though she’d told him she wasn’t afraid, right now fear looked back from the mirror. Not merely the aftermath of the grueling climb they’d made, but fear of tonight.

  More than anything she had ever wished for, she wanted him to do this. Her courage mustn’t fail. She had to trust him, totally. If she didn’t, then everything between them would be lessened to the mere span it took her to get old. She screwed her hands into tight fists. Her shoulders grew rigid. I love him. I know he loves me.

  “Then why am I so afraid?” she whispered. “He mustn’t see how scared I feel.” She turned away from the mirror and peeled off the body warmer, followed by the Meco shirt she’d worn for their climb, tugged off the grubby trousers and thick socks.

  In the hope to find calmness, she poured half a bottle of lavender-scented oil into the bath and swirled it around in the water. The fragrance wafted up in the steam. Once the bath filled, she stepped out of her underwear and down into the warm water. Wrapping her hair up in a towel to keep it from the oil, she sank beneath the water, rested her head on the back of the tub, and breathed deeply.

  Ten minutes later, she decided lavender was overrated. Even though her muscles had eased physically, the tight coil inside her remained. The slightest slip of her concentration led her straight back to gut-churning fear.

  The bath water had cooled. The last thing she wanted was to grow chilled. She eased up from the tub and stepped out onto the soft mat where she dried off with one of the warm towels from the heated rail. Certain her silky robe wouldn’t be enough tonight, she donned Magnus’s bathrobe instead. Each movement slow and deliberate, as though she forced her hands to work, she cleaned her face, then dabbed with a toner before she rubbed in moisturizer.

  She took several deep breaths, gathered up her discarded clothes, and put them in the laundry hamper. She teased the wide toothed comb through the hank of curls she held and glanced again in the mirror.

  The heat from the bath had given her some color. She shook her hair around her shoulders. Yes, she could just about pass for normal.

  I’m ready for whatever comes.

  She opened the bathro
om door, fetched her slippers from the bedroom, and made her way down the stairs.

  A steaming bowl of soup sat waiting for her on the dining table, a large glass of wine beside it along with a folded piece of paper. She picked up the note placed by her spoon.

  Eat, drink the wine, and go to bed. I’ll be back shortly. Don’t lock the door.

  Her stomach rolled. Any vestige of hunger vanished. Had he gone to take the crystal this evening? When he came back, would he be Magnus or the wolf?

  My Magnus-wolf.

  She sat, picked up the heavy-bottomed wineglass, and took a gulp. The wine hit her empty stomach with a kick. The smell of the soup, a hearty meat and vegetable broth, sparked her need for food. She ate a couple of spoonfuls, but after they stuck in her throat, she could manage no more. A pity to waste the meal, but she took the bowl back into the kitchen and tipped the contents away. The wine would do for now. She swallowed another gulp as she walked to the stairs. She’d take the glass of wine up to the bedroom and finish the last of it there.

  The curving staircase drained her strength as she made her way to the top. Perhaps it was one climb too many today.

  Her eyelids weighed heavy as she sat on the bed. After another sip from the wineglass, she set it on the nightstand. A deep lassitude overpowered her body. She curled up, hugging the pillow against her, gave in the struggle, and closed her eyes.

  Drugged.

  She forced her eyes to open. The room wavered.

  He’d put something in the wine.

  Chapter 21

  The bedroom light remained on. Sian must be asleep by now. He’d waited in the garden for half an hour since the light first showed. She would most likely think him a coward for sedating her, but it was the only way he could think to ease her fears and the pain he’d inflict on her tonight.

  Memories of pain played over his flesh as if each of his limbs felt the shock of injury for the first time. Tonight he would hurt her. It would be impossible not to. The fierce ache in his gut returned. How could he bite her and not cause pain?

  I can’t!

  He paced half the length of the garden and back. Each step, he repeated the instructions for how he must proceed. The wound had to be deep enough to draw her blood. He swallowed hard against the desire to lick his lips as though he might taste her. What if he couldn’t control the bite?

  Fear multiplied a thousand fold. Since his first kills, he had always bitten deep.

  “Don’t play with it, boy. Kill it!” The words of his father returned. Tonight he needed to have complete domination of the wolf’s eagerness to offer a swift and easy death. He must taste blood but also exercise restraint in the same bite.

  Sian is my mate, my woman, and I love her beyond measure.

  The first stars shone.

  As soon as he changed, he’d find a rabbit and try to bite without killing it.

  The moon, the bitter mistress of his change to wolf form, slid less than half full from behind a thin cloud. He turned his back on it. Slowly, his breath puffing white in the cold air, he dragged off his clothes. He’d leave them in the waterproof bag he’d brought with him and collect them tomorrow. The idea of tomorrow wisped like a haze. He couldn’t imagine what the new dawn might bring if he did as Sian wished. One thing was certain. If he didn’t find the courage to go through with it now, he never would, and time, his old enemy, had a certain victory.

  Uncertain if it were a good thing he could find no rage to prompt this transformation. All his concentration dwelt on the hopes in his heart, willing them to be stronger than fury.

  His recollection of his battle to stop the transformation in the shower the morning he’d discovered Franklyn’s foul presence in the grounds of the house returned, tonight a useful tool. Breathing slow as if meditating, he tried to focus on the sensations he’d known then. The fading vision shifting between his own and the sharpness of wolf perception, he blinked as the tower’s thick stone wall shimmered. A stirring in his blood quickened his pulse. The familiar start to his change gave him hope. Prickles burned his skin. Blistering hot, his body burned within.

  Slow as an old man, he curled toward the ground. The quicksilver race began with his low groan.

  * * * *

  Magnus sucked in the rich sweetness of the air as the thin, brittle shell shattered. Joyful, he stood on all four feet and shook himself.

  Free.

  Free to run.

  Run and hunt.

  The elemental elation throbbed through him. He opened his jaws for a blissful howl. The woods of his earliest youth beckoned. They would offer him all their wealth and beauty tonight. He spun away from the house with its prying lights, and raced as fast as he could toward the line of trees casting shadows.

  Skidding to a stop, he sniffed to study the vale, the beautiful curve of hills as they merged above one long valley.

  Sian’s breasts.

  Her breasts were smoother than this. The valley between them was always sweet-scented, offered peace, the place where he would rest his muzzle should his goddess allow.

  He gave a snarl, shook his head, and sucked in a breath. The scent-laden air promised him game tonight, a chase worth the making.

  Hunt.

  Yes, hunt but not to kill.

  His muscles twitched. A low growl rumbled in his throat.

  Not kill.

  Not kill!

  He paced on, treading over the silky chilled turf until he reached the coarser growth beneath the trees.

  The ripe scent of hind met him. Somewhere close. He peered at the earth.

  Prints. Deer.

  Tasty deer.

  Cautious now, he moved to the rim of a clearing. Another waft of odor met him.

  There.

  Pale throated as the goddess.

  Soft, sweet flesh.

  Crouching, his belly close to the loamy earth, he crawled forward.

  Hunt.

  Bite.

  Not Kill!

  The creature bent her head, then turned as she nibbled at a stand of taller grasses beneath the tree.

  Close enough to see the long lashes of the hind’s eyes, the pale strip of her neck, he inched onward. One more move. He’d be in position to leap and bite.

  Not kill!

  I will not kill her.

  Open mouthed, he leaped at the deer. He gripped the hind’s supple, pale throat.

  Her hooves flailed as she tossed about with a wild squeal. Feet scrabbling in the leaf litter, kicking up tiny stones, she bucked. She pushed. He held. She shoved. The whites of her eyes shone brilliant in the night.

  Blood. The iron rich delight made him salivate. Tongue rubbing at the source, he sucked in the first thin spurt from the wounds in her neck.

  Stop!

  Let go. Let her run.

  He relaxed his jaw. Gasping, he set the hind free.

  She thrust away from him. Another of her screeches tore into the night. The heart-shaped white flash of her rear sped away as she ran for her life.

  Dribbling for her loss, he sank down to the ground, aching but somehow pleased. The hind lived.

  Time passed. The stars shone like his pride. He’d bitten but not killed. Idling in the cool wood, he ran his tongue over his upper lip. A sticky smear offered a luscious taste, but he needed something more. He hauled himself up from the chill, damp ground at the edge of the turf and eyed the house. Understanding came; all he needed lay inside. Now certain where he must hunt tonight, he turned and headed out of the woods toward his quarry.

  A light from a half-curtained window in the round tower beckoned him. This night, perfection awaited him. He’d no need to trail the woods. The light would lead him to quarry with skin more yielding than the hind’s. She’d offer more than the lick of blood he’d yet tasted.

  Sleeping.

  She awai
ts me.

  I will make her mine tonight.

  The goddess would be his. Her blood would be the exquisite culmination of all his desires his long life.

  He picked up his pace to a trot and basked in the shivery sensation racing through him. Closer now, he discovered her scent. She led him onward. A long expanse of grass lay at the front of the house. A play of shadow leaves from the tall bush by the partly open door showed him the trail across the green. Although the house made him prick up his ears and bunch his shoulders, he approached the building. This night he would go inside. He must.

  The thick door stood ajar. A beam of light from within beckoned. He nudged the heavy wood with his head. A board creaked, the sound echoing like a gunshot. Instinct set his muscles ready to fight. One thing gave him pause. Reassurance, too. The scent of the goddess. Licking his lips, he sucked in her unique fragrance.

  One more step took him inside the house. Lost to anything but her lure, he followed the trail up a wooden staircase. His claws clicked on the glossy boards. Another door to nudge open.

  The well of lamplight spilled out from the half open door at the top of the stairs, casting shadows on the wall and floor. His heart pounded with the delight of her. Tonight she would be his.

  All mine.

  A fresh growl rumbled at the base of his throat.

  Every muscle quivered as he entered the room. He peered at her curled form on the bed and inhaled the perfection wafting from her flawless warmed skin.

  Bite.

  The force of the thought sent him floundering backward on the slippery floor.

  Dare he?

  He ran his tongue over his upper lip. A hint of hind.

  Though she lay motionless against the pillow, he approached slowly. He sniffed the goddess-laden air.

  Taste.

  He must savor her.

  The bed juddered as he mounted it. She lay so close he could admire the detail of her creamy skin, the shadowy vale between her breasts, and as he breathed in again, he luxuriated in the perfect richness of her call for a mate.