Claimed by the Wolf

by Saranna Dewylde

  “And you’ll see the same.”

  He flashed a wicked grin. “We’ll both have to come up with new strategies.”

  She thanked the heavens for her regenerative powers. Before her infection, she would’ve been done for the night, but she suspected they both had more staying power now.

  Her infection. Panic seized her and she grabbed his chin, looking into his eyes.

  “What’s this?” he asked, amused.

  “I was checking you for infection.”

  “And what do you see?” he asked evenly.

  “Nothing. Just you. Although, your irises have a gold ring around them now. I suspect that’s from your new status and not me. If it was from me, it would be blue.”

  Relief coursed through her. While she would’ve loved for them to be the same, it wasn’t what he wanted.

  “And you. Are you still who you were? Did my blood change you?”

  “No.” Was that what he’d hoped?

  “Good. When I said you were perfect, I meant it.” He kissed her again. “Should we test the river water? It’ll be cold, but there’s nothing else like it.”

  “I think I’ll pass.”

  “No, you won’t. You wanted to see how I grew up. We didn’t have running water except for what nature provided. And now she has provided and we will partake.” He scooped her up and carried her toward the water. “Come on, city girl.”

  She flailed in his arms and shrieked when the frigid water splashed over her. Beth clung to his neck, teeth chattering, but oddly refreshed.

  “Out now,” she said.

  “You’re nowhere near clean.” He dunked her.

  She shrieked and tried to drag him down with her, but found herself kissing him again. Even though this felt like heaven, she knew it couldn’t last. It seemed the world was against them and darkness still brewed on the horizon.

  Beth didn’t need to be a Gypsy to know the biggest tests were yet to come.

  Chapter Seven

  They fell into a comfortable routine in Germany over the next weeks, and Stefan could even admit to being happy.

  He’d been in touch with his men and now they were hunting Aeternali instead of werewolves, investigating shadow subgroups and agendas. Beth used her analytical skills to research the members they suspected and gather information.

  In the evenings, she’d run the dark forest in her beast form and sometimes, Stefan would run with her. The first time he’d used his magic to change his skin had been terrifying but exhilarating. The experience wasn’t something he’d ever wanted, but Beth made it okay. Beth made everything right. She even made it okay when he found out his sister had been turned, that she’d mated with the Alpha of Alphas—Luka Stanislav. Black, acidic fury had risen inside him like a tide of flame from hell, but Beth’s small hand on his and her soft smile doused it like it was nothing more than the fluttering of a match.

  He’d never thought that happiness was in the cards for him. Stefan accepted that his life was to be one of service, and that he should take joy in serving, rather than his own desires.

  That was why he hadn’t told her that he loved her.

  Before, when he’d been working her for information, the words had tumbled off his tongue with ease. Though he realized now that he meant them.

  Even so, Stefan was sure if he gave voice to the depth of what he felt for her it would be taken from him.

  It was a strange feeling, this happiness. The force of it burned him, but for all of its heat, Stefan knew it was as delicate as a glass witch ball balanced on the edge of a rocky crag. He sensed something big coming their way, and it was apocalyptic.

  “I’ve heard from Konstantin!” Beth cried, interrupting his thoughts, as he approached the vardo.

  “Oh?”

  “He’s fine. Daphne is fine.” Her lashes brushed against her cheek as she looked away. “She’s been turned.” She flashed her electric-blue gaze back to his face. “But they’ve found a cure for the virus, and Ian Gevaudan is dead.”

  Stefan knew he should feel some rush of pleasure, but he didn’t. Instead of any relief, the magic in his blood screamed that they’d only cranked the heat on the pressure cooker. Something big was still brewing.

  “You don’t look pleased. I know you wanted to kill Gevaudan yourself, but—”

  “No mistake, I wanted to kill him.” Stefan nodded enthusiastically. “But Ian Gevaudan didn’t orchestrate all of this on his own. He had to have funding from someone with a lot of pull in the Aeternali—maybe even a senator—to make all of this happen.”

  “Then this is the break we’ve been waiting for. When news of his death circulates, all we have to do is watch to see who mobilizes.”

  “It won’t be that easy. I’ve got this dread, Beth. There’s this black pit inside me that’s swallowing every good emotion I feel and spitting venom back at me. At this point, I’m not worried about who was subsidizing Gevaudan, but what.”

  She sighed. “I know. Me, too. But we’ll have the wine. Something red and rich. We’re still celebrating.”

  He handed her the wine, cheese and some roasted-rosemary-and-garlic chicken legs—those were her favorites—that he’d been carrying.

  Beth wrapped her arms around his neck. “There’s always going to be evil in the world, Stefan. No matter what we do. I’m not saying that means we should stop fighting or give up hope, but I am saying that we need to celebrate the small victories. The tangible that’s within our grasp right now. Like this place, me and you, a cure for this virus. Your sister’s joy...” She rested her forehead against his. “I’m not worried about the what. It’s probably someone very human. It wasn’t the beast that killed your mother—you’ve learned that it isn’t in the wolf’s nature. It was the human side of the creature. Humans are small and finite. We are not. So take this moment with me. Drink wine from my lips and breathe in this moment before you try to take the next one.”

  He tightened his embrace. “You have a Gypsy soul.”

  “Do I? Maybe it’s because I love a Gypsy man.” She didn’t give him a chance to respond.

  It was almost like a ballet, the way she fit herself against him and then flitted away with the wine, only to spin back into his arms and offer him the bottle. When he’d tasted enough to her satisfaction, she plucked the bottle from his lips only to replace it with her own.

  The wine was indeed sweet on her lush lips, sweeter than the most decadent of treats. The way she melded to him was somehow even sweeter. The perfect trust in which she pressed herself against him was humbling. She’d spoken of love, with no thought of his response, only the need to tell him.

  He wished he could say the words back—he wished she’d still be safe once he said them.

  Stefan eased her down into the grass and tried to show her how he felt. He opened the mind link between them so she could see herself as he saw her. The way the sun haloed her hair, the blue of the sky reflected in the depths of her eyes, the texture of her skin under his fingers. The blossoming of her lips as her mouth opened for his kiss—it was all part of what he felt for her.

  Even though he feared the words, they somehow weren’t enough to contain the enormity of what she meant to him.

  Beth laughed and the sound was light and musical like silver bells.

  “What did I say, handsome? Be with me here and now. Don’t store it up for later. There might not be a later, and then you miss now. More wine for you.” She took another drink before handing him the bottle.

  “The only wine I want is on your lips, pisliskurja.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “This.” He kissed her again. “You are my darling, my life.” He studied her for a long moment before speaking again. “My love.”

  Her expression bloomed into a smile. “Then make love to me, mate.”

  Stefan divested them both of their clothes using his magic. He understood that this time it wasn’t so much about the orgasm as it was the bond. Their gazes locked, he pushed his length i
nto her wet channel and she hooked her ankles around his hips.

  The mind link flooded both of them with sensation, and each feeling was doubled and shared. Her tight heat, his cock sliding in and out of her. But most important was the strengthening of the link between them. The sharing of sensation, of emotion, of energy and soul.

  It was as if the final piece had clicked into place at last.

  Just as the last lines of defense between them were diminishing, thunder exploded and lightning struck the ground near them. Black clouds rolled in like a banner unfurling.

  Stefan knew it. As soon as he admitted how he felt and spoke the words, disaster struck. The weather phenomenon was no storm, but the Aeternali Council’s messenger. Stefan’s arousal disappeared like ashes in the wind. Stefan clothed them with his magic as quickly as he’d undressed them.

  Even a king was subject to listen when the messenger spoke.

  The marble head of the messenger turned to look at him, eyes empty and face blank. The mouth moved, but the sound was behind the motion by several seconds. “The Council has been called to order and you must answer a claim brought by the Vice Chancellor himself.”

  “A claim for what?”

  “Damages.”

  The statue disappeared and along with it, the storm.

  This was the dark thing he’d been waiting for. They didn’t have to search for their enemy any longer, he’d just revealed himself.

  “What does this mean?” Beth asked, face drawn and tight.

  “It means that we go to the Paris Catacombs, to the secret chamber beneath, and we meet with the Aeternali Council and the Adams. It means that we’ve been summoned to offer recompense for the facilities we destroyed.”

  Righteous indignation flared in her eyes. “How dare they! Who are they to summon you, anyway? You’re a king. An Adam. By what right can they do this?”

  “We’re going to find out,” he promised. “The Aeternali’s time has come and gone. It’s time someone told them.”

  Chapter Eight

  Beth knew something was wrong as soon as they materialized in the Catacombs. The air was heavy with expectation, but she didn’t sense the things that accompanied crowds of people—the mix of pheromones, or the beat of a hundred hearts.

  In fact, she sensed only a solitary heartbeat aside from her own and Stefan’s.

  The absolute thundering surety of the heart struck a primal chord of fear within her, and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe because it wasn’t afraid. There was no fear from this thing in a place of so much darkness and death. The being that awaited them summoned them both, knowing exactly who and what they were, as if that were of little or no consequence.

  She sent out a beacon call for help to Konstantin, the Adam for her kind, and Luka Stanislav, the powerful Adam of the werewolves. If she understood things correctly, they didn’t need magic to travel by thought to the Aeternali chamber. All supernatural beings were afforded transport to and from. She hoped she was right, and more so, she hoped they hurried. Whatever happened here couldn’t withstand the strength of three Adams.

  It’s a trap, she said over the mind link just as Stefan pushed open the secret door to the Aeternali inner sanctum.

  He didn’t respond, but he didn’t have to.

  Beth recognized the horror in front of them from Stefan’s memories. Vice Chancellor Torin Bornholme stood before them. A beast crawled out of his skin—the same one that had slashed his mark against Stefan’s chest that frigid January night all those years ago. It stood at a little over nine feet tall, shoulders double the size of Stefan’s, biceps like steel drums and legs the size of tree trunks. It had a leonine head, large and square-muzzled with tusklike teeth and a long black mane.

  The real horror wasn’t the shadows that danced around him like a cape. It was his eyes. They glowed a bright bloodred, like emergency lights—and they were utterly soulless.

  “Where are your reinforcements, boy?” The voice was like flint on steel, but the undertones were familiar. She’d heard his human voice somewhere before.

  “Where are your reinforcements? You address a king.” To Stefan’s credit, his heartbeat was just as steady as the thing in front of them, even though he faced a childhood terror brought to life.

  “There is much of your mother in you, Stefan. So much so I bet your flesh will be almost as sweet as hers.”

  Beth pushed across the mind link to soothe him, to tell him not to let this thing screw with his head, but it was as if that part of Stefan was gone. He’d completely disengaged from his feelings, and she couldn’t blame him.

  “That’s good, Bornholme. You should enjoy something you’re going to die for.”

  It laughed, the sound like a rockslide, grating and crashing against the stone walls. “You don’t want to hear my terms?”

  Stefan’s magic sparked from his fingertips, but Beth knew there was more to the story, because Bornholme’s heart rate fluttered. An involuntary reaction to whatever depraved thing he’d planned, but it was possible it was useful information.

  “Yes,” she interrupted. “We’ll hear your terms.”

  “And that went so well for your kind before, sending a woman to negotiate for your people.” He snapped his massive jaws, but pulled on his human facade.

  He smelled so strange, unlike any other scent she’d experienced. It wasn’t the scent of someone or something that was alive, but it wasn’t that of the dead. Yet somehow it was still so familiar. Everything about him sparked a remembrance that was just out of reach.

  “You keep alluding to something—why not just make your point?” Beth asked.

  He smiled, too many teeth in his mouth for a human. “Because this is more fun.”

  Recognition hit. His was the voice over the intercom in the testing facility.

  “Perhaps for you it is, but I’m bored. There’s nothing keeping me here, so entertain me, or we’re leaving, and all of your little games will have been for nothing.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t say nothing. Look how tortured our little Gypsy king is. It’s all there on his face. He’s such an easy mark.”

  Stefan said nothing, his magic crackling in a wider arc around him.

  “Did you call your Adams, little Beth? I hope they come.”

  She refused to acknowledge the tenor of fear that sang in her veins. “If you wanted them, why didn’t you bring them yourself?”

  He grinned, flashing all those sharp white teeth again. “Maybe a man shouldn’t have to command his daughter to visit.”

  “You’re not a man,” Stefan answered.

  “Haven’t you figured it out yet?” Torin growled. “Marijka would’ve, but that’s because she got my DNA. She should rule, not you, you mewling Gypsy trash.”

  “Your precious Marijka is Gypsy, too,” Stefan spat. “Her blood transmuted Ian’s virus. Why?”

  “We already know you helped him make the virus,” Beth added.

  “I am the virus!” His roar was so thunderous the caverns shook with the force of it and bits of rock crumbled and shattered. “I will remake the world in my image, and you won’t stop me!”

  “No, but we will together,” a new voice said.

  Beth turned to see a beautiful woman with black glossy hair just like Stefan’s standing in fatigues and armed to the teeth next to a hulking blond Viking of a man who radiated power. She knew instinctively they were Luka Stanislav, Alpha of Alphas, and Marijka.

  Konstantin, Beth’s Alpha, and Daphne, her friend—her marked and turned friend—came with him.

  They’d all come to do battle.

  Her heart expanded and filled until she thought it would burst.

  Torin heard her thoughts. “It’s too bad it won’t actually burst. That’d be something to twist the knife in Stefan’s gut.”

  Beth was hit by a sudden clarity. “Why do you hate Stefan so much?”

  Torin turned his full attention on her, and part of her wanted to wilt, to melt into the wall to escape his scrutiny, but she wo
uldn’t look away and she wouldn’t hide. Stefan needed her.

  “Christianna was mine. She was my mate, but she wouldn’t leave her little princeling. Had to stay with her people,” he sneered. “Now there will be no lines among people—the virus will see to that. And the Aeternali? I am all that’s left. The world is mine.”

  Stefan answered him with the lightning magic that pulsed around his fists in spectacular crackling orbs. They shot into his heart and lifted Torin off his feet.

  But Torin laughed, shedding his human skin and even that of his beast.

  What stood before them now was darkness incarnate—a demon from the Abyss.

  He opened his hand and absorbed Stefan’s magic like a sponge, glutting himself on the power, until it exploded outward, knocking them all back to the ground.

  All the while, Torin Bornholme kept laughing.

  Luka, Konstantin, Marijka and Daphne all dropped their humanity in favor of the wolf and attacked.

  When Beth would’ve joined them, it was Zoranna’s voice that held her back. No. Stay. Answer me this, first. Would you die for him?

  Beth watched the man she loved, drawing on all his magic to shield their makeshift family. She could see the darkness as a physical thing; it burrowed like sharp-toothed little worms through his defenses—its ammunition doubt, fear and hate.

  She remembered again how Zoranna told her he’d need her. How the woman trusted in her, in their love for one another even when it had been nothing more than a con. Beth remembered the faith Zoranna had put in her by giving her the ring and welcoming her—an outsider and a wolf—into their tribe.

  Zoranna hadn’t been wrong. The answer was easy, and it wasn’t like when the Blue Ridge Facility had burned. Her beast forbade her to be parted from him because it recognized him as her mate. This was different.

  Beth herself chose the answer here, and the answer was yes. She loved Stefan with every fiber of her being. He completed her in a way she hadn’t known was possible, and she knew he loved her as wholly as she loved him. It didn’t matter that their relationship had been founded on a lie, it didn’t make what she felt for him any less real. Regardless, he was her mate. The moment she’d bitten him their bond had become immutable as stone, something stronger and deeper than any word could express.