The Eye of the Wolf

by Sadie Vanderveen

  Mikayla gently closed her fingers around the simple book. It was too simple to be a government record. Her hand shook slightly as she untied the leather laces holding it closed.

  “Luv, could you hurry it up a bit? My shoulders are starting to ache, and I haven’t had breakfast yet! I’m feeling a bit puckish, what with you sitting up there and all!” Will tipped his head back as far as he could to see up. He saw a brown, leather cover. If he turned his head, he saw the inside of her thigh, and that was just too wonderful to contemplate, at least while he stomach was growling. Though it did give rise to thoughts he had worked very hard over the last week to quell. He had been reminded several times of his promises elsewhere, and of the duty that he owed to his country and his family. Becoming involved with with Dr. Mikayla Knight was not in his destiny. He had been raised with a destiny, reminded of it daily, but at that moment, destiny was far away, and her smooth skin was right there. He licked his lips and mentally shook that thought away. He was starving, and he needed to get her back on her own feet.

  Mikayla shifted the book aside and frowned down at him. “You are so British!” She gently opened the book. “Just keep your shirt on for a moment. I’m almost done.”

  Will rolled his eyes and just for the fun of it bounced her slightly to adjust her position. He was gratified when one of her hands braced herself against his head, gratified that is until she grabbed a fistful of hair and held on. He winced and held still. “What have you got up there that is so bloody important?”

  Mikayla’s eyes scanned the pages. There was no illumination. There was no neat calligraphy. This was simple handwriting, words that had dulled from black to brown as time passed. It was written in French, but not formal. It was almost a conversation. Her eyes widened. A diary! If her education was as good as she thought it was, she had found a diary! Mikayla let out a squeak of pleasure.

  Will reached up and grabbed the book out of her hands. He looked up at her face shining in pleasure and disbelief. Excitement was written in every feature. Even though he didn’t know what she was grinning about, he found himself grinning back.

  “Will, do you realize what that is?” Her voice bubbled out, excitement enriching every word.

  He didn’t know. In that moment, he didn’t care. All he heard was her saying his name in her sing-song voice; his nickname that only his grandmother called him rang through his ears. Tenderness swept through him and he forgot everything except the look her azure eyes as they shone down on him. Breathless he stared up at her, forgetting everything from the need for food, to the books scattered around his feet. Everything, except her.

  Mikayla grinned down at him like a child who had just received the best toy. “Will,” she patted his cheeks lightly, “do you realize what that is?” She struggled to get down. Will bent and allowed her to jump off. When he straightened, she snatched the book from him again.

  “Do you realize what this is?”

  Will shook his head. The moment passed and he began to get excited about whatever she was excited about. Her animation was contagious. “Well, since you haven’t let me look at it, my answer is going to have to be no.”

  Mikayla hugged it to her chest. “Will, it’s a diary.” She held it out to him. “Look, it’s the diary of King Malachi.”

  Will gingerly took it in his hands and turned the pages. He read snippets here and snippets there. He looked back at her and felt a grin spread across his features. She was right. “Well, now we really have something to work with!”

  Mikayla laughed and threw her arms around him in a quick, carefree hug. Then, just as quickly as she was there, she was gone, skipping up the aisle to the table at the front of the Hall of Records, the diary clasped in her hands.

  He laughed and followed at a quick run. “Well, that is much better than the book of monasteries that once called Amor home that I was looking for.”

  Mikayla answered with a laugh of delight. When he caught up with her, she was already seated in the chair they had nicknamed Her Chair because she always sat in it. A pad of paper sat next to her right hand and a pen was waiting for Will to pick it up and begin taking notes. On the pad of paper, with its petals lush and dew-covered, was a lavender rose. Its delicateness radiated from the paper. It was luxurious and perfect, just beginning to open. Mikayla brushed a finger over the petals, feeling the velvety softness caress her skin.

  She smiled at Will as he pulled his chair out from the table. She spoke not a word, but for Will it was enough that she met his eyes for the briefest of moments. For the briefest of moments, the wall that separated them, that cut off her emotions from him in her eyes, fell. For the briefest of moments, he saw the stars, the moon, and the sun all shining. Blinding. For the briefest of moments, he felt his path change and collide suddenly, irrevocably, with hers, a path that wasn’t supposed to be, but that could never be undone.

  Will had been born to fate. He believed strongly in fate, and its odd twists and turns that simple mortals weren’t meant to understand, simply to accept. He knew at that moment, that Mikayla was part of his fate, whether it was supposed to be or not. What that fate was, he didn’t know. He just knew that her being there, with him, was no accident. Somewhere along the way, it had been predetermined that their paths would intersect briefly, giving one another a glimpse at a life neither could ever have.

  Then, just as suddenly as the wall had fallen, it rose again. Mikayla looked away and opened the diary she had discovered on top of the dust-covered bookshelf. Just like that, the wall was back in place, and the path that Will had seen so clearly was gone, replaced by a cold dark that he didn’t understand, but he knew had nothing to do with his path.

  He sat down next to her, poised to take notes. “Well, let’s have at it.” He grinned in return to the grin she flashed him before she bent over the diary and began translating the ancient, fading French text.

  Mikayla tried to translate clearly, using a strong voice, but inside her heart beat fast and she struggled to draw a deep breath. For the briefest of moments, it felt as if she had seen a future, a future she didn’t know could exist. She had seen herself reflected in the gray sea of Will’s eyes. She had felt as if the world had shifted, as if two plates had collided. It had been brief, but it had been strong. That moment had occurred. What did it mean? Where did these emotions and feelings come from. She knew nothing of romance and love. She also knew she was not part of Amor. This couldn’t happen. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

  Mikayla swallowed as her voice faltered and took a deep breath. She began a line again hoping it was stronger. Romance was for the silly and weak-minded. She was neither. Whatever had happened there had simply been in her imagination, which she knew tended to work over time. It was the right moment to get back to work and quit pretending to be something she was not. To quit pretending that her relationship with Will was more than it was. It was not some fanciful romance. It was not some summer distraction. He worked for her. There was nothing else. There would never be anything else.

  Mikayla’s voice was cool and denied her thoughts that raced through her mind and her heart as she read from the diary of King Malachi. “Aujourd’hui, je…” The French was cool, just like the woman who read it, regardless of the inner turmoil pulling her towards a destiny that could not be changed once it was created, that could not be denied once it was determined.

  Today, I watched as they laid the first stone in the fine castle that will sit within the stone fortress of the Secluded City. I don’t understand my father’s need to build this fortress, this barrier, which will separate us from the people we rule.

  My grandfather, though I never knew him, strongly believed in being a king of the people, understanding their needs, their wants. He lived among them in a small house on the beach. He fished with them and raised his children to be part of their lives. My grandmother was a daughter of this island, a gift from the local chieftain to my grandfather for the peace Grandfather thought he would find here when God willed his la
nding on a distant shore, far from his native Britain.

  It was only after the rebellion that Grandfather felt the need for some safety, some protective measure from the barbarians who once inhabited this island. Those barbarians have been gone during my lifetime, and I am but twenty years old.

  My father I do not understand. He was raised to be one of the people, yet he insists on keeping himself separate, my brothers and sisters and I separate from the people we will one day rule. He refuses to allow us to walk along the shore. We are not allowed outside of the walls without one of the sworn companions of my father, one of the great knights. These walls are my prison. They will eternally be my prison. I believe my father fears the people of Amor. I do not understand his fear since the servants have always been kind to me and my kin, but I see the fear in his eyes. I hear it in his voice when he commands.

  The Secluded City shall be the greatest palace in all of Europe, my father swears it will be so, but at what cost?

  Chapter 7

  Will had been watching her for almost an hour. He had watched her twist a strand of hair around one finger over and over. He couldn’t figure out why it was so intoxicating to watch her twirl her hair. Auburn curls twined around delicate fingers was a stronger intoxicant than the strongest liquor.

  The white rose, with the faint pink edge, he had snatched from the garden was tucked behind her ear giving her a romantic heroine look. The white was vivid against her bronze hair and blended with her pale skin, skin that was creamy with rose hints at the cheeks. Again, when he had tucked it behind her ear, she had given him that brief glimpse into her soul. It was brief, but what he had seen had left him breathless. Had left him dizzy with the passion hidden inside and had created a need, a need he didn’t understand inside of him.

  He watched her tap impatiently on the snazzy laptop computer she had set up on the table in the Hall of Records. Her fingers flew over the keys with ease, as if she had spent a lot of time typing on the compact keys. As she typed, Mikayla screwed up her forehead in concentration. Every so often, she would pause and refer back to King Malachi’s diary that she was still reading, still translating, run her finger along a line of text, and then return to her computer and type in something. He could only imagine what it would feel like to have that same finger trail along his back. It probably would be close to heaven or to hell, depending on what came with that action.

  Will shook his head. He had to get those thoughts out of his head. There was no way anything was going to happen. He just couldn’t remember ever being so mesmerized by anyone ever before. She literally took his breath away, and fascinated him beyond comprehension. He wanted to know every thought, every feeling. He wanted to know her. Mikayla kept herself to herself. He had tried to engage her in conversation about her life, her interests, her favorite movie, but she didn’t answer. She was aloof, some might have even said cold, but he had seen a fire in her eyes. He had heard her laugh. He had seen her dance in the waves of the ocean. She was passionate about history and the past. He knew that if she could be passionate about one thing, there must be more burning beneath her cool, reserved exterior. Will had rarely heard her laugh in the week that he had been working with her on the research since they had found the diary. He knew that when she did laugh, it was a musical sound that warmed the air around her and made others want to be near her. It had been a rare experience to hear that and feel that warmth. She kept herself apart from others, but she immersed herself in her work, whole-heartedly.

  Will had noticed the mild indentation on her left ring finger before. He also had noted the fading tan line. He wondered about the man that had let her get away. Perhaps he hadn’t appreciated her for who she was, nor had he understood that there was passion beneath the fragile wall. Perhaps this man, whomever he was, hadn’t understood the need to coax that passion out with gentleness and need. Definitely that man had been a fool. It never occurred to him that perhaps Mikayla was the fool.

  Will looked at her head, bent over the keyboard and book, her fingers flying. Her curls were restrained in a messy ponytail. She was adorable. His fingers flexed on the book he held on his lap. Will felt anger inside at the man who had pushed her away. He had obviously hurt her and that was why she kept to herself and didn’t let others in.

  “Did you love him?”

  Mikayla slowly lifted her head and looked at Will sitting across the room from her. He was sitting on the stone floor of the Hall of Records with his back against a book rack stacked full of dusty volumes of all sorts of interesting and not-so-interesting facts about Amor. A large record book of births, marriages, and deaths rested against his knees. His sandy hair hung over one eye and his gray eyes held hers. The expression was soft, concerned, but there was something else there too.

  “Excuse me?” Mikayla asked, trying to make her tone imperious.

  “I said, did you love him?” Will repeated slowly. He locked eyes across the room with her and watched as a wall came down over her blue eyes, though he could see her eyes still, he couldn’t see what she was thinking or feeling. The shift both startled and amazed him.

  “Who?” Mikayla looked back at the computer she had been typing on. The text she had been reading was translating for her. It had been a difficult old French that she had never seen before. She hadn’t understood a word of it. Normally, she would have skipped over it, but something told her it was important. Of course, her not understanding the text might have had nothing to do with the age of it but have had everything to do with Will’s presence. Whenever he was around, her entire senses were flooded with him, his smell, his look, everything about him. It was unnerving to say the least.

  “Who?” He stood from his place near the book stacks and crossed the room in easy strides to the table. He sat astride the chair directly across from her. He stooped slightly so he could see her face. Then, he lightly tapped her left ring finger. “Him, that’s who!”

  Mikayla glanced briefly at her hand and then pulled it under the table. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “C’mon, Mikayla, who was he? Did you love him?” Will let out an exasperated breath.

  Mikayla looked him in the eye. “I don’t know.” She turned back to her computer and tried to read the translation, but she could tell he was still staring at her. She sighed and closed her eyes briefly. When she opened them again, they were bright with emotion he had known was there but hadn’t seen before. “I thought I loved him, but it just wasn’t meant to be. We were too different. My career was more important to me than being his wife.” She looked him in the eye. “Satisfied?”

  “Not really, but it’ll have to do for now.” He rubbed his finger across the spot where the engagement ring used to sit. Will looked at his tanned hand over her small, delicate, white one. Gently, he linked their fingers. He drew their hands up. Her hand carried the faint scent of vanilla he had experienced the first time he had met her. It flooded his senses until there was no other scent in that musty room except for her. He brushed her knuckles with his lips, so softly she barely felt the kiss. A tingle ran through his arm.

  Mikayla watched him in fascination and knew that her breath was shallow and her heart raced. Her hand tingled at his touch. Her mind went blank when he looked at her from across the table. She felt tension knot in her stomach, a warm, spreading tension that spread through her limbs. She had never felt this tension before. It was a new, interesting, exciting, scary experience.

  Will gently brushed her knuckles and the spot where her engagement ring should have been with a whisper of a kiss. He kept his eyes on her the entire time. He was amazed at the many different emotions that crossed her face and played in her eyes. Softly, he spoke, “He’s a fool, whomever he is.”

  Mikayla jerked her hand back at his voice. She looked back down at her computer and tried to clear her head, tried to think of something to say. Her face was flushed and her heart rate raced. She wanted, no, needed to focus on the task at hand. To be driven to be the best. Focus
ed yet, she couldn’t think of anything to say. Her mind was blank except for the sensations Will had created simply by holding her hand. But it hadn’t been a simple experience of holding hands, it had been an erotic, sensuous experience. She closed her eyes and willed her pulse to slow. “Did you ever think that maybe I was the fool?” She opened her eyes and stared across at him. Her eyes were bland again, the fire dampened; the chill returned.

  Will grinned across the table at her. He had known it was there. He had seen the heat in her eyes. They had changed from a bright, sky blue to a deep midnight blue, deep enough to get lost in, if a person allowed it. He took a deep breath and willed his own pulse to slow. He didn’t know what had come over him. Will had conquered women before: models, actresses, princesses, but none of them had raised his temperature or his pulse like she had by just holding her hand. None of them had flooded his senses, took over his thoughts until there was just her. He hadn’t slept peacefully in two weeks. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there. It was intriguing and just a little frightening. Not frightening enough for him to back away, especially from the challenge this cool American created, probably without realizing she was doing it.

  Will scooted his chair back and grabbed the book he hand been reading off of the floor. “If I find something of value in the next five minutes, can we go outside and get some sun? It is an absolutely beautiful day today.”

  Mikayla glanced up from the translation. “We have work to do.”

  Will leaned on the table. “Like I said, if I find something of incredible value in the next five minutes, can we go do something else? There must be something else that needs to be done. After all, you are researching a monarchy that has been in place, without interruption, for 900 years! I really don’t think anything is going to change if you take a day off now and then.”

  Mikayla leaned back in her chair. She had to admit she was tired of sitting in the dusty museum day-in and day-out. She hadn’t really seen anything other than the city streets in the evening, the museum, and her house in almost two weeks. She was itching to get out of the museum. “All right…if you find something of incredible value.”