“Henry was there with me. He helped to hold me down. He said it took the surgeon only minutes, but it felt like hours of pain. They sealed the wound with heated iron, and the pain of the burn lasted for days.”
Aurelia sat up and slowly pulled the coverlet away, revealing the scarred stump. “But it is healed now, and you are well.”
“Well enough to be a cripple,” he said with a weak smile. “There are times… I thought at first it would only take time, and I would no longer wake without remembering. But there are times still that I can feel my leg as though it were whole. It aches with the cold. I know I must sound insane, to say such things, but it’s true.”
She smoothed her hand down his thigh, over the whorled scars that covered severed bone and tissues. “I cannot imagine. I would have died of such a wound.”
“I would give my life to see that it never comes to that.” He ground his teeth at his shame as her lithe fingers danced over his ruined flesh. “Please, don’t.”
She hesitated only a moment, then brought her hand upward on a lazy journey toward his hip. “Why? I am not sickened or disgusted. It’s only flesh.”
“It’s an embarrassment,” he reminded her gently. “I made a foolish mistake, and this is what I earned from it.”
“And if you hadn’t? Perhaps you would never have found me.”
Her words cut him to the bone, made him curse his foolishness in the woods all the more. “If I had not, you would have traveled to Blackens Gate to be my bride, not my brother’s.”
Her hand stilled. She looked up at him, her mind plainly working behind her eyes. “But perhaps I would not have loved you then.”
The word crashed over him, twisted something inside of him that had been sleeping. It roared to life now, though he steeled himself against it. She was young, and young women often followed their hearts too rashly. Yet looking into her eyes, he was helpless to believe that she did, truly, love him, after such a short time.
He drew her hand to his mouth and kissed her palm. She shivered as she watched him, her lip caught between her bottom teeth.
“Come here,” he said softly, and she eagerly scooted up beside him, her hand falling upon his cheek to guide his mouth to hers. She whimpered at the soft brush of his lips, her body arching against his. Passion, she had in droves, and for that he thanked Fortune. It seemed too soon to take her again, and she so untried, but his cock lifted at the feel of her soft body against his, the sound of her low moan as he stroked down her back.
If he were a whole man, he would already have had her in six different ways. But at least he’d pleased her. When he’d finally withdrawn from her, she’d sighed as though it pained her to lose him. He’d hear that sigh every time he closed his eyes, and he would see her face there.
He let his mouth drift over her shoulder, up her throat, behind her ear. Her breath quickened and he swept his tongue over her skin there. She wriggled in his arms, as if she would push him away, but at the same time she huddled close. He grinned to himself and held her tight, nibbling, sucking and licking that tiny bit of her neck, delighting in her squeals. All at once, she stiffened in his arms, her exhalations becoming gasps, her gasps becoming more ragged until she cried out, her body bucking.
Lifting his head, he laughed in amazement. “Oh, but you are surprising, aren’t you?”
She blushed and dipped her head, an embarrassed giggle escaping her. But the shyness didn’t last long, as she sat up boldly and climbed astride him, her round breasts swaying as she settled her wet cunny over his cock. With a hand that no longer shook with nerves, she guided him to her opening and took him inside.
The walls of her cunt, swollen and satisfied already, surrounded him, and it took an unthinkable amount of control not to spill then. Her eyes came open wide, and for a moment he worried that it was too soon since her maidenhead had been breached. He almost lifted her off him, not wishing to cause her pain, when she dropped her head back and moaned, her thighs quaking over his hips.
The second time, it was not so desperate as the first. He showed her how to go slowly, to feel every inch of him slipping into her and pulling back out, how to touch herself as she rode him, though the very sight of her hands on her body nearly brought him off. He brushed her fingers aside and teased the slick bud with his thumb, longing for her cries and sobs of pleasure.
“Please,” she begged him finally, her palms pressed against his shoulders as her hips rocked furiously against him.
He rubbed her in a tight circle, faster than before, feeling the beat of her heart against his palm pressed to her thigh. His own release tightened in him, threatening to spill before she could reach completion, though her cries came fast now. Powerless to stop the rushing pleasure, he gripped her hips and pounded into her, still swirling the sensitive bud. Her fingernails scored his shoulders while her grasping cunny milked him, and he knew he was lost. He drew tense as a bow string and pulsed within her as she climaxed with a long, desperate wail.
She collapsed like a rag doll upon his chest, her breath ragged as it huffed from her lungs. Her thighs still trembled, but with exhaustion, and he cursed his stupidity. How would she sit a horse in the morning, if her legs were worn out now? He patted her hip and eased out of her, hissing at the too-raw sensation that always followed after, and rolled her onto the bed beside him once more.
“When we’re in a proper bed,” he panted, wiping the sweat from his brow, “when we’re in our bed, you won’t have to do so much work.”
“I don’t mind the work,” she laughed, looping her leg over his. “Besides, how would you have me? As a stallion mounts a mare?”
“Yes,” he said, enduring her playful slap. “I would have you in as many ways as we could imagine together, and then I would think up more.”
She blushed as though she were still a maiden. “I don’t know if I should listen to such words. You aren’t my husband, after all.”
He kissed her forehead, smiling to himself. “But I will be. The first priest I find, I’ll see that done.”
Sighing with contentment, she rested her head against his shoulder. Her happy silence invited the slightest trepidation into his mind, and he fought against the urge to warn her that the road ahead would be difficult, that they would not always be as happy as they were now.
The candles burned down, and finally they slept. Though his nightmares assailed him most nights, he slept without dreaming. Upon waking, he credited that to having spoken of his injury the night before. It always seemed as though if he let himself be tormented with the memories in his waking hours, they did not trouble him as much in the night.
Aurelia still slumbered beside him when a knock sounded in the darkness, and the trap door opened to admit a shaft of gray dawn light and Henry’s slender form.
“You have one horse,” he said by way of greeting. “And I’ve a long walk back to the castle. I packed all the gold I found in the chest at the foot of your bed, both your swords are tied to the saddle, and there is enough food and wine in the saddlebags to carry you to the Badger’s Nest in Carding Cross, if you’re wise about it.”
Respectfully, Henry’s gaze did not linger on Aurelia’s sleeping form. He reached down and lifted the iron leg up, depositing it on the bed beside Raf. “You’ll need to leave before the next hunt goes out, and they were saddling when I road ahead. You don’t have much time.”
“Leave us,” Raf instructed his friend. Henry would excuse him the lack of courtesy. It was understandable in such a rush.
He wrapped the thick woolen bandage around his stump and wound it about his body, before fitting the false leg to it. Then he hurried with his hose and braies, wanting to be at least half dressed before he woke Aurelia. It would help him resist the temptation of her sweet body, knowing he might not have her again until they reached more permanent lodgings.
His body seemed to scoff at that thought with a bolt of desire that hit him sure as any crossbow shot. He would not be able to resist her, if he had to ta
ke her on the forest floor.
“Aurelia,” he murmured in her ear, bending over her. “You must wake. We have a long journey ahead of us today.”
She groaned and mumbled, but sat up, her beautiful hair all in tangles around her face. He could not help but smile at her.
They dressed quickly, and climbed the ladder into the empty inn. Henry held out warm capes for them both, and Raf helped Aurelia settle hers about her shoulders. Her fingers brushed his as she took the edges of the cloak from him, and she smiled at him, but something trembled in it.
Fear. She feared, despite the trust she proclaimed in him. The pain of it seared to his bones. Still, he returned her smile, and climbed into the saddle, reaching down to fit his iron leg to the stirrup. When he had his balance, he offered Aurelia his hand and pulled her up to ride behind him.
Her arms came around him under his cloak, holding tight. He held out his hand to clasp Henry’s. “I cannot say that I will repay you one day, friend. I doubt we’ll see each other again, even if I could.”
Henry lifted one shoulder, as though he had not seriously endangered himself to help them. “Your brother will likely beat me. I hope you feel at least half of it.”
Raf couldn’t help his laughter. Henry had always had the best of humor.
The young knight’s face fell serious then. “Be well, Raf. Lady Aurelia.”
“Be well, Sir,” Aurelia told him softly.
Raf nudged the horse and they left Henry and the inn behind at a good pace. Aurelia leaned against his back, so silent for a time that he worried she might sleep. He gripped her wrist in one hand and the reins in the other, paying attention to the shift of her body behind him, lest she fall from the horse.
Then she spoke, startling him almost as much as if she had fallen. “Do you know where the next village might be?”
“We’ve only just started our ride,” he teased. “Surely you cannot think to stop yet.”
She stroked his chest with the backs of her fingers, and the barrier of his doublet and tunic between them was maddening. She was not intending to seduce him, that was plain, and that made her every touch all the more arousing.
“I’m only anxious to find the very next priest we see,” she reminded him. “Once we are married, they would not be able to take me away from you. Your brother could not have me.”
Oh, but he could. “Aurelia, there is much about wolves that you don’t understand. I don’t fault you for your ignorance of our ways, as our secrets are well guarded. But the law of the pack comes before the laws of God.”
Her voice trembled when she answered. “Do you mean that even after this, and after we are married and I am truly your wife, your father would…annul our union?”
“Not annul, no.” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “If we were found, and my brother took offense and sought to have his property returned to him, my actions would be seen as a challenge. We would settle our disagreement in combat.”
A small sound of outrage tore from her throat. “You would not agree to such a fight, would you?”
“I would.” Not to participate would mean execution, and he would lose her to Roderick. “That’s why our only choice is to retreat.”
“You speak of your home as a battlefield,” she said sadly. “And I am borne into that same existence.”
“I would that you had not been,” he said, and then corrected himself. “No. I am not. As you told me I should not be sorry that I lost my leg, you should not be sorry that you’ve been cast among wolves.”
They rode on in silence. For a few miles they followed the main road, Raf constantly searching yards ahead for an indication of the old road through the snow. He was almost certain he’d missed it, when he came upon a familiar marker on the tree. The old road, now used only by poachers, bandits, the most desperate of travelers, was covered in unbroken drifts. They would be found by their horse’s hoof prints. He stopped at the juncture to rest, and climbed down from the horse. As he helped Aurelia down, he told her, “Stay here, and hold the reins. There is something I must do.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, shocked, as he began disrobing at the side of the road.
He knelt, then fell on the wet moss, unbuckling his leg. “My father’s men would not ignore the tracks of a three-legged wolf, even if the scents confuse them. Wolves we may be, but men as well, and men won’t often ignore what they see with their eyes in favor of another sense.”
Aurelia huddled closer to the horse, holding the reins tight. “You’ll become a wolf.”
“I’ll change, yes.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Don’t fear. I will recognize you. Only…don’t run from me.”
“Because you’ll chase me?” she asked, her voice tremulous.
He hated that he could not stand up and go to her, an able bodied man, and comfort her. “I wouldn’t hurt you. I would chase you.”
She said nothing in response, and kept her eyes to the ground as he disrobed. It was strangely embarrassing, he realized with a shock. Though they’d lain together, something as personal as becoming his wolf was something he’d never shared with a human before. He felt genuine trepidation. What if she was repulsed by him? What if it so frightened her that she demanded he take her home, to her father?
Not that he would be able to. They would merely send her back to be with Roderick. This was another part of her new existence that she had to face, better to let her see it now, so there would be no shock later. “You might want to turn away,” he warned her, and rolled to hands and knee. Then, he let the change come.
Chapter Seven
Despite his admonition to look away, Aurelia could not. It would be like forcing herself to look away from a manticore, should one venture into the crossroad. A man becoming a wolf was not something seen every day.
For just a moment, Raf crouched, startlingly naked, in the snow. Then, his entire being shimmered like heat off a cooking pot. The color of his skin lightened, becoming an eerie, sunless gray, and thousands of coarse black hairs sprouted all over him. His face stretched and grimaced, and finally squeezed out of shape, into a long snout. His darkly green eyes lightened to a yellowish cast, and his fingers gripping the snow shortened, their nails turning to stubborn claws. A wolf stood before her now, where Raf once had been.
Her first instinct was to run.
The beast made a low growl, and her muscles relaxed of their own accord. She crossed herself.
Blowing a chuff of air through his jowls, he padded between the trees on a path only he knew. Aurelia looked up, noting the owl marker nailed to one of the elder trees there. When she looked back, the wolf had gone.
A sob welled in her throat. If he had spoken true, and of his honesty she had no doubt, then as a wolf he was not himself, not wholly. He was driven by the instinct of a predator. Would he remember to return for her? When he did, would he remember that he’d left her there?
It was a different world she’d entered, the moment she’d left her home with the wolves. And though she was grateful for Raf, she could not understand the ways of the wolf-men. Men fought and died for honor, that was true, but there was something uncivilized about the practices he’d spoken of.
The road seemed deserted, for all the long while Raf did not return, no other travelers passed. The forest was desolate and melancholy. Melted snow dripped from the trees, but no birds sang from them. The sun hid behind clouds so wide they made the sky seem a liquid gray. After a time, she began to panic. Had Raf forgotten her? Worse, had he been found by some of his father’s men?
She spun about, still clutching the horse’s reins. The animal nickered softly, stepping nervously from one hoof to another. Was the sensitive animal merely feeling her fear? Or did something lurk between the trees? She thought she saw a shadow. Then, she was certain that it was not a shadow.
Her heart pounding loudly, she slipped the reins over a low branch and slowly backed away. The horse, seeming to sense it was being left for slaughter, reared back, hooves s
lashing at the air. Aurelia ducked them, shrieking. Heedless of Raf’s warning, she ran.
Branches whipped her face as she raced, heedless of her direction, into the trees. It did not matter which way she went, so long as it was away from the creature pursuing her. She lifted her ruined kirtle and chemise, running as she had not since she’d been a child. She leapt over a looping tangle of thorny vines, only to lose her footing and fall to the ground. Then, the beast was on her.
Fur brushed the backs of her thighs. A heavy, heaving chest covered her back, and a large, muddy paw crushed her hand. Her dream, the one that had haunted her since her father had announced her betrothal to Roderick Canis, came to her with such clarity that she wept. She had foreseen this death.
All at once, he was no longer a wolf. Raf fell atop her, crushing her beneath him on the forest floor. He lifted himself up on one elbow, yanking her skirts up with his other hand.
“I warned you not to run,” he growled against her ear, and all at once, her fear was replaced with something new, something that made her blood run darker, thicker in her veins and flooded her intimate flesh with desire. He entered her with a brutal thrust, pushing against her on his one whole leg, a hand above her head to grab at a fallen tree limb for balance. She accepted him, pushing back, drawing him deeper. There were no whispered words or gentle love play. His teeth sank into her shoulder, and had her kirtle and chemise not been between them he would most certainly have left marks. The thought thrilled her. To be marked out as belonging to him, in a way nothing but time could erase. That could not be taken from her, and she would remember the pinch of his teeth against her flesh for the rest of her days. His mouth closed over the nape of her neck, and her climax crashed over her, drawing a scream from her mouth as she twisted beneath him, helpless to the overwhelming force of sensation coursing through her.
Raf panted beside her ear, then arched up and roared as he loosed his seed inside of her. The pulse of his cock sent trembling ripples of pleasure through her, echoes of the release she’d just been given.
Brlde of the Wolf Page 6
