The Wolf's Wife (The Wolf's Peak Saga Book 1)

by Patricia Blackmoor

  I shook my head as I turned away, my hand clinging to the cool, dusty railing as I climbed the stairs. I crossed back to the section I had abandoned before, pulling out the book with gold lettering. I had thought I was in the mythology section, but the book was written like a journal. The script inside was handwritten, drops of ink and smudges messing the pages. The book felt very fragile, the paper brittle, as if it could fall apart in my hands at any minute, so I leafed through it carefully. I couldn’t read the writing; it seemed the script was written in a very old English. While some of the letters were familiar, not all of them were. I was about to put the book back when I noticed the illustrations.

  Like the words, these were done by hand. The first was a beautiful picture of a wolf. It reminded me of the one I had befriended, strong and big. When I flipped the next page, my hand froze. These illustrations were not as regal. They showed a man in obvious distress, each panel depicting him enduring some terrible horror. In one panel, all of the man’s teeth were falling out. In another, long sharp nails burst from his fingertips. In another, his body was writhing in agony, his back arched, an ominous moon in the background. What on earth was I looking at?

  I heard the door open below me, and the book slipped from my hands, clattering to the floor. Pages spilled everywhere. I gathered them up and set them on the table in a loose bundle before I whirled around. I moved to the railing, thinking it was Annabelle.

  It was not.

  “Well, look here, it’s my new sister,” Seth said, sauntering toward me with a smirk on his face.

  I gripped the banister tight, my knuckles turning white. “Hello, Seth.”

  He continued toward me, climbing up the stairs. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  I tittered, stepping back away from him, only to find the wall behind me. “I do live here.”

  “Of course,” he said, shaking his head as his foot hit the landing. “I just meant, in the library, of all places.”

  He stood looking out over the library, just a little away from where I stood. He took a deep breath, inhaling the dust and smell of books. “I do love it in here,” he said. “Don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I was stepping back now, toward the shelves behind me.

  He turned to look at me. “It’s so dark in here, it’s just wonderful. However, I suspect that’s not why you like it.”

  “I like the books,” I said stupidly.

  He leered toward me. My hand felt along the wall for the corner, my palm skimming the book bindings. I was essentially trapped. He was blocking my exit. I tried to take a deep breath. I was overreacting, surely.

  Seth was right in front of me. He reached a hand up, cupping my face, his hand gripping my jawbone. If he wanted to, he could probably squeeze and it would break. My heart was beating like the devil was dancing on my chest. I was sure he could hear it.

  “I can’t imagine how my miserable brother snagged a girl like you,” he said, leaning in to me to sniff my hair. I tried to recoil, but I was backed against the wall. “Really, it’s a pity. You should be with someone who understands you.”

  “Jasper does understand me,” I said, hating how my voice was shaking.

  He pulled back and looked me in the eyes. His eyes weren’t the pretty blue–gray of his brother’s. Instead they were a dark slate, almost black in the dim light of the loft. His eyes roamed down my neck and my collar to my cleavage. I should have worn something more conservative, but it was too late now.

  Seth laughed, thin lips pulling back from sharp teeth.

  “He doesn’t understand you,” he said, pulling his hand away. “He’ll never understand someone like you.” He reached down and grabbed my arm, yanking me toward him. “But I will.”

  “You don’t even know me. Please let me go,” I said, pushing against him.

  His other arm snaked around me, grabbing the back of my neck. My heart was pounding so hard, I was sure it was about to push out of my chest. He held me tight in his grip, and I couldn’t wriggle out.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyebrows raised.

  “Let me go!”

  “Christine,” he said, his voice patronizing, “please, I’m just trying to show you there are better options out there.”

  He pulled me in and leaned me back over the rail, his lips smashing against mine. His mouth was slimy, like being suctioned like a squid, and I struggled to pull away without falling backward over the railing. I struggled against him, but his mouth stayed attached to mine, his tongue prodding into my mouth and making me sick.

  He finally pulled his mouth off of me, and I wiped my lips on the shoulder of my dress. He jerked me to his chest, trapping me there. His arms were wrapped around my shoulders, which freed mine up. I was twisting, trying to break free of his grasp.

  “Christine,” he sighed. He smelled like mildew. “Why don’t you run away with me? Leave this dreary life behind. Join me, and I will raise this baby as my own.”

  I wedged my hands between our bodies and shoved him away from me.

  “No! Leave me alone! Don’t touch me!” I shouted at him.

  He backed away and put his hands up, as if I was persecuting him. “What the bloody hell is this?”

  “Leave me alone,” I said, my voice shaking.

  “I was just trying to rescue you from this dismal place, love,” he said. “It’s your loss. I didn’t really want you, anyway.” His voice was getting louder, and I cowered back in the corner.

  “In fact, I don’t want anything to do with you. You can burn in hell!” he shouted. He stomped down the stairs, knocking a pile of books off of one of the tables. I stayed huddled in the corner until I heard the door shut, then I was able to breathe.

  I started to move when I heard the door open again. I froze, looking around for something to arm myself with. All I had were books, and they wouldn’t be very effective in this situation. Instead I moved toward the stairs, trying to put myself in a better position to escape. I’d shove him down the staircase if I had to.

  “Ma’am? Christine?”

  I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized it was Bridget. All the adrenaline left my body and I sat down on the staircase, resting my head against the bannister.

  “Are you all right?” Bridget asked, rushing to my side. “I heard shouting.”

  “I’m fine,” I said, putting my head down and breathing deeply.

  She put her hand on mine and I instinctively flinched.

  “Did Seth do something to you?” she asked.

  I was still taking deep breaths. “It’s nothing.”

  She sat down on the steps next to me. “Did he attack you?”

  I nodded numbly. “How did you know?”

  “That look you have on your face right now? The wide eyes and the deep breathing, the rocking back and forth?”

  I hadn’t even realized I was doing that.

  “That’s the same look I saw when I worked the streets all the time,” she said. “Hell, I’ve had that look on my face plenty of times myself.”

  I gazed up at her, my eyes full of tears. “What do I do?”

  She looked at me. “You know what you should do.”

  “I can’t tell Jasper. I’m not going to ruin his relationship with his brother.”

  “Oh, Christine, you aren’t ruining anything. Seth did that all on his own. He’s a pig, and it’s completely his fault.”

  I sighed. “Will you give me time to think about it?”

  “If you need it. Do you want to talk to me about it?”

  “Honestly, I’d just rather forget about it.”

  She stood up, then held her hand out to me. “Well then, why don’t we go upstairs? I’ll have Daisy fetch you some tea, and I’ll draw you a bath.”

  I stood up, my arm stiff from where he had grabbed me. I’d surely bruise. “That sounds lovely,” I said. “I might take a nap as well.”

  Bridget put her arm around my waist and walked with me down the stairs, holding me steady. We didn’t see anyone
as we walked upstairs, and I was glad; I didn’t want to answer any questions and I didn’t want anyone to fuss over me. When we got upstairs, Bridget ran the bath, adding copious amounts of lavender. I stripped off my dress, and sure enough, bruises had started to form on my arms. I sighed as I slipped into the warm bath water.

  There was a knock on my door and I flinched, sinking down beneath the water. Bridget came into the bathroom, holding a cup of tea.

  “Daisy just brought this up,” she said. “I asked her to give you some chamomile to relax you.”

  “Perfect,” I sighed, taking a sip of the warm liquid. I wasn’t used to chamomile, and the tea was slightly bitter. Nevertheless, the warm liquid was soothing. I sunk back down into the bathtub, letting the warm water rush over my shoulders as I tried to forget what had just happened.

  Chapter Twenty–Two

  I woke up in the middle of the night thinking I was going to die.

  Sharp pains shot through my stomach, and bile rose in my throat. I was hot and cold at the same time, my body sweating and shivering. I stumbled out of my bed, peeling the covers off my legs, and weakly faltered across my bedroom into the bathroom. I collapsed to the cold tile floor, my head resting against the rug. I crawled over to the toilet, vomiting up everything in my stomach, the bitter bile splashing into the bowl. My hands were shaking as I wiped my mouth. Slowly I stood up, body frail as I found my way to the washbasin. I splashed water on my face, trying to wipe away my sweat. Hands unsteady, I found the call button for Bridget and pressed it as many times as I could before crumpling onto the floor. My head was swimming, and nothing in front of me was steady. I buried my head in the crook of my arm, trying to keep my vision straight.

  A soft knock on my door caused exploding pain in my head.

  “Christine?”

  I couldn’t manage more than a soft groan in response.

  “Christine? Christine!”

  I tried to pull myself up, but I wasn’t able to grasp onto anything. I attempted to drag myself across the floor, but my arms collapsed underneath me. I tried to call out to Bridget, but my head exploded in stars every time I uttered a sound.

  Bridget was pounding on my door, and the pain it caused made me sick all over again. There was a commotion outside in the hallway. I could hear voices, but I was slipping in and out of consciousness and I couldn’t tell what was going on. There was the sound of metal on metal, then the door opened.

  There was a rush of air by my ears, and then I was surrounded.

  “Christine!” It was Jasper’s voice, urgent and painful. His arms slid under me and he lifted me into the air. The hard, wooden floor under me was replaced with my soft bed. Jasper knelt down next to me while a cold cloth was laid over my forehead. I was jerking uncontrollably now, my body shaking and shivering.

  Jasper’s hands were on my face.

  “Christine, please, what’s wrong?”

  “She’s burning up,” Bridget whispered. “We need to call a doctor.”

  “Where’s Mr. Potter?” Jasper said. “I’ll send him into town.”

  “I’ll go get him,” Bridget said. She laid the cloth on my head as she left my side.

  My mouth was dry and tasted sour. “Water,” I whispered.

  “What was that?” Jasper asked, his voice tense.

  “Water. I need water,” I said. I had thrown up everything in my stomach, and I needed to stay hydrated.

  “Get her some water, too,” Jasper commanded Bridget. I heard the door close.

  Jasper took my hands. “Christine, stay with me. Please stay with me. You’re going to be okay.”

  I blinked, looking up at him. The room was still dark, but I could see his blue eyes shining back at me. “I don’t feel so well,” I mumbled.

  He kissed me on my forehead, his touch warm against my clammy skin.

  “I know, I know. You’re going to be okay.”

  “It wasn’t the clams this time,” I said. My voice sounded far away.

  He laughed, but it was a nervous laugh. “No, it wasn’t clams.”

  The door burst open. Bridget and Daisy came rushing in. Bridget lit the lights in my room while Daisy set a glass of water and a cup of tea on my bedside table. Jasper put his arm behind me, gently lifting me into a sitting position. He put the glass of water to my lips and I guzzled it down, eagerly letting the water fill my emptied stomach and wash away the bitter taste in my mouth.

  When the glass was empty, Jasper laid me back down again. My pillow had dampened under my face. I knew I was still sweating, and I would have to keep drinking water to keep myself hydrated. I wanted to ask for another glass, but the words couldn’t move from thoughts to my mouth. It was like there was a wall up inside my brain, preventing any type of thought from forming properly. The world started to spin around me, and my sight started going dark.

  When I woke up I was still surrounded. I slipped in and out of consciousness as the doctor tested my vitals and Bridget reapplied a cool cloth.

  “Am I in labor?” I asked, my voice hardly above a whisper. “It’s too early.”

  “You’re not in labor,” the doctor assured me as Jasper brushed hair from my face.

  “Oh, good,” I said, my eyes closing again. I was about to drift off again, but Jasper pulled me into a sitting position.

  “You need to drink more water,” Jasper said, raising the glass to my lips.

  I drank the water. It did feel good sliding down my throat, cooling my overheated body, soothing my stomach. I glanced at the window as he laid me back down. Dawn was just starting to break, thin streams of blue light breaking through the curtains.

  “What time is it?” I whispered.

  “Don’t worry about that,” Jasper whispered to me.

  “Get some sleep,” I begged him.

  “Not until you’re more stable.”

  Nausea welled up in my stomach and I leaned over the edge of the bed. Bridget had a bucket, and I emptied the water from my stomach. Jasper pulled my hair out of my face as I vomited. When I was done, he handed me the tea. It was cool now and tasted bitter, but it helped get the lingering bile out of my mouth.

  “All right, there you go,” Jasper said, lowering me back down onto the bed.

  “Your Grace,” Dr. Brighton said, “I need to speak to you outside.”

  Jasper’s eyes were filled with worry as he examined my face.

  “Go,” I encouraged him.

  “I’ll watch her,” Bridget said, coming to sit next to me. She replaced the cloth on my forehead with a new one. The cool water dripped down my face. I could practically hear it sizzling on my hot skin.

  “I’ll be right back,” Jasper promised. He lingered a moment longer, then closed the bedroom door behind them.

  They were outside the door for a few minutes. I couldn’t hear what was being said; the tones were hushed and tense. I could guess, though, that it was some conversation of concern for me.

  When Jasper came in, his face was pale and drawn.

  “What’s going on?” I asked. “Am I dying?”

  He shook his head. “You aren’t dying.”

  “Don’t lie to protect me.”

  He sat down on the edge of the bed, his hand on my arm. “As far as we know right now, you aren’t dying. It’s just a flu.”

  “What about the baby?”

  This time, he hesitated. “The baby’s heartbeat is still strong. But Dr. Brighton is worried that if your fever continues this high, and if you don’t get proper nutrients, the baby could be in trouble.”

  Tears sprung to my eyes. “No,” I murmured.

  “Hey,” he said, kissing my cheeks. He brushed my tears away. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to get you healthy again.”

  Jasper looked over at Bridget. “Go get some sleep. I’ll stay with her.”

  Bridget started to protest, but he put a hand out. “Go. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “If you insist,” she sighed. She pulled herself off the bed. She was still d
ressed in her nightgown, her long hair twisted into a loose bun at the back of her head. Pieces were falling in front of her face, and her eyes had dark bags underneath them. She looked just as exhausted as Jasper.

  “I’ll be back in a few hours,” she said, shutting the door behind her.

  When she was gone, I turned to Jasper. “What did you do that for?” I asked. “You need sleep too. Bridget could have stayed with me.”

  “I’m not leaving you,” he said.

  “But—”

  He shushed me. “Go back to sleep, Christine. You and the baby both need to get some rest.”

  He stroked my cheek tenderly with his thumb, and finally, I drifted off.

  When I opened my eyes again a few hours later, the sun was shining brightly through the window. Jasper had curled up next to me on my bed, a hand on my arm. I managed a small, faint smile before a roaring pain ripped through my head. I leaned over the edge of the bed and vomited into the bucket again.

  I felt Jasper’s hand pull back my hair. I had almost nothing left in my stomach, but I couldn’t stop heaving. Jasper left my side, returning moments later with a cold cloth. He laid it across my forehead as I rested my head back on my pillow.

  “Still not feeling better?” Jasper asked, worry filling his eyes. My throat burned from the constant vomiting, and I couldn’t speak. Instead I only nodded.

  “I’ll go get the doctor,” Jasper said.

  When he left, Bridget came in, followed by Annabelle.

  “Oh, sweetie, you look awful,” Annabelle said to me.

  I couldn’t help but laugh, but even that hurt. I ended up choking again, heaving into the bucket. When I was done, Bridget took it away and rinsed it.

  “Oh, dear,” Annabelle sighed, sitting down next to me. Her cool hands touched my face.

  “Here, drink this,” Bridget said. “Daisy just brought it.”

  The tea burned my throat, settling in my stomach. I had finished half the cup when I started vomiting again.

  Annabelle tied my hair back with a ribbon as I heaved. She lifted the cup to her nose, sniffing.

  “Ugh, that smells awful,” she said. “When I was pregnant, peppermint always helped with nausea. I’m going to go make you some peppermint tea. I’ll be right back.