It stalked around the human as if sizing up his prey, then sniffed the winds and continued in a great leap toward the direction of the much smaller wolf. Thane sheathed his weapon between his wide shoulder blades and reached for the reins of his mount. His hand only caught air, and the horse was long gone, frightened and fleeing.
Thane balled his fists and inwardly cursed. Most of his supplies were in the saddlebags. He shouted for the stallion at least a dozen times, but only the chirping sounds of a few forest birds returned his call and all became silent—strangely silent.
With no sign of the fickle animal, he kept his head low, doing his best to watch the undergrowth for more wolves or any unearthly creatures that may decide to jump out at him. For a big man he had learned to walk light on his feet at an early age. He did so now, trying not to disturb the ground or lay any tracks a predator could follow. He also wanted to avoid rousing the ears of anything else lurking in this grove of trees where the wolves had sprung from.
Then, as if on cue, he heard the spine-tingling snarls and yelps of a fight between two beasts, unholy growls and cries stinging his eardrums, as he tried to walk on. He could not discern if the sound was caused by the wolves or a pack of rabid coyotes.
He tried to ignore the horrified whimpers, to block out the sounds of struggle and desperation. But something compelled him to stop and turn around to investigate the source. Then a sinking feeling tugged at his chest when the cries grew louder, becoming more human than animal, more like the battle cries and death throes during the barbarian confrontation.
His walk built into a swift run as he removed his blade, sprinting hard toward the skirmish. Skirting around three enormous trees with long tendrils of hanging moss, he emerged in a small cove, a clearing where the black monster had settled. It was on top of the smaller wolf, fiendishly tearing at it with sharp talons, trying to rip it to shreds.
The white wolf already looked dead, blood gushing from many wounds causing the white fur to turn crimson. Even so, he had to end this.
Holding his long sword firmly in both hands, he stealthily moved behind the massive wolf. The creature was preoccupied with mauling the other wolf, tormenting it ruthlessly. The dark wolf did not hear nor sense his approach. With one powerful angled swipe downward, the blade clove through sinew and bone of the wolf’s shoulder to explode through the other side in a bloody spray. The wolf turned abruptly, not knowing that it was already dead, took two strides forward and toppled over, the head rolling clean from his thick neck.
Thane booted the wolf’s head to the side, its beady eyes wide and staring, and squatted down over the smaller wolf. Great gashes scarred its body, but the clear blue eyes flashed open for a second. He moved a hand toward the wounded animal, and it weakly snapped at him, baring her fangs in defense.
“I will not hurt you, little wolf,” he said quietly, trying to gauge the severity of the wounds. He chanced touching the white coat, where the blood was pooling, for a better look at the wound. The wolf snarled, showing its capable white fangs and snapped once again. He could plainly see the feral gleam in the wolf’s beautiful blue eyes, but there was also fear there.
This amazing creature would certainly die if he left it alone, and for some strange reason, he did not want that to happen.
When she lurched forward, showing her long fangs to Thane, he yanked a leather strap from the side of his belt and trapped the jowls of the beast. Clamping the jaws closed, he wound the strap around its mouth, keeping those dangerous teeth sealed tight. He hauled her in his arms, and the wolf whimpered slightly in protest.
“Save your strength,” he whispered. “You are going to need it.” Gently placing the wolf down in the shelter of a hollow, he promptly built a small fire using forearm-thick branches and dried leaves for kindling.
The white wolf lay still, her breath coming in ragged gasps, and the injuries were still pouring blood.
* * * *
Rain wanted to run, to flee from this human, yet her limbs were far too weak to propel herself forward. The desperate effort of the sprint, just before Colcu caught her, had zapped her of any stored energy, and she was utterly exhausted. She could feel her life force fading like the spring winds slowly melting the white peaks of the mountains. She had felt the full brunt of Colcu’s rage against her, his long fangs ruthlessly sinking into the soft flesh of her neck, and in that instant she believed her life was over. But then she had seen the horseman in the trail and the awesome power he possessed when the knight removed the head of her attacker in one streamlined motion. The mighty Colcu, the alpha of her clan, was dead in a split second by the hands of a human. It was not feasible. There were no words to explain the odds against that happening. Unlikely was one term that came to mind—even lucky.
But she believed it was nothing short of a miracle.
Chapter 5
Rain knew little or next to nothing about humans and was very wary of this one with a deadly blade strapped to his back. What terrified her most was his size. He was larger than Colcu himself, with corded bands of raised muscle covering his entire body.
Did this mountain of a man merely save her from Colcu simply to use her as food? Watching him tend the fire did nothing to calm her internal fears.
She felt again the warm rush of blood streaming down her neck and knew she would not have to worry much longer. As the giant human approached her once again, she watched her impending doom. Her eyes fluttered once, closed, and then she fell into darkness.
* * * *
Thane produced a curved needle from his pouch and began pulling some thread away from his blue cloak. “That stupid horse,” he grumbled. It carried his thread and sterile bandages, not to mention most of his other supplies. He would have to make due.
The Eagle Riders were not only the finest horsemen and swordsmen in all of Jarna, they had also been trained in the art of healing. He was no surgeon, but he had learned enough to keep someone alive if the wounds were not fatal.
The wolf was limp in his arms as he held her. He brought the needle and thread forward and began the tedious work of pulling the flesh together, closing the wounds. One by one he threaded each laceration. The gashes along the belly and neck required the most attention.
Satisfied that the animal would not bleed to death, he placed the needle into his pouch and stretched out beside the fire.
* * * *
She woke in the middle of the night, swaddled in the warmth of a cloak. The man next to her was moving a large hand down the length of her spine, petting her. Was he actually petting her like some dog? She didn’t know if she should nip at him or lie quietly and accept it. The slow, steady repetitions down her fur had a calming effect. The demeaning thought of being treated like a pet by this human quickly washed away as his hand filtered through her fur, with gentle tugs that relaxed every bit of tension in her wolf form.
When she felt the tightness of stitches holding her torn flesh together, she knew that this human had no intentions of harming her further. He had killed Colcu, mended her wounds, wrapped her in a warm cloak, and was stroking her delicately beside a fire. Why would this man do such a thing? She didn’t have the answer. The petting at least settled her nerves, and her head went lax and her eyes closed.
She was safe—for now.
Later that morning, she stirred in her wolf form to the delightful aroma of fresh meat. Her sensitive nose picked up the rich scent of rabbit roasting over an open flame. She was hungry. Saliva was dripping from her mouth just from the delectable smell, and there was no doubt she wanted to eat.
Never before had she been in wolf form for so long, and she had a desire to shift. But Rain was apprehensive, afraid of what the human might do to her if he discovered the truth. There had been many stories of werewolf hunters. It was a group of humans banding together for the sole purpose of eradicating her species. She shuddered at the thought.
She examined the man beside the fire and noted his long dark hair that fell below his shoulders, his ma
ssive hands, and muscled arms. It was the largest man she ever encountered. He was the size of Zurk and Rander put together.
At the recollection of those two names, she remembered the day of her judgment, the day she was sentenced to death. Rander, Zurk, and Arran did not protest for her life as they should have—given the fact that they were the ones that seduced her. Her belly warmed with anger at the slightest notion of those three.
A deep yet gentle voice came to her, snapping her from the past. “Come on then—you hungry?” He was trying to coax her over with a hunk of rabbit meat, and it was working.
Weakly, she rose on all fours, wobbled two steps, and sat back down.
He lifted her gently, placing the wounded animal back into the cloak, and fed her small slices of meat by hand. “Don’t you worry,” he said, patting her between ears. “Your wounds will heal, and you will be hopping through this forest before you know it.”
Would a truly wild wolf allow this human to touch it, or would the wolf try to gnaw his finger off? she asked herself. Rain allowed a slight rumble to escape her throat just to see his reaction.
The big man smiled wide. “Mind your manners, little Shelia. I won’t hurt you.”
Shelia?
Her name was not Shelia! It was Rain. She wanted to shift right then and tell him, but again the fear of the unknown halted her decision. Resting her chin on his thigh, his lulling strokes across her sides persuaded her to close her eyes and drift into a sound sleep.
It was sometime later when she felt herself being carried, bundled in a cloak, gently swaying with the human’s long strides. He had fashioned the cloak into a carrying basket that he then slung around his shoulder. How long had she been sleeping? It seemed like it had been days because her stomach was on empty once again.
Sneaking a peek outside the basket, she saw that they were headed deeper into the forest, a place where even the wolves shy away from. The village elder, Yolta, spoke of it before. “The heart of the forest must remain pure. We are not to tread upon the sacred ground or frolic among the sacred trees,” he had said. Back then she had accepted the words as a subtle threat, a warning to stay clear of the deepest parts of the Daribu Forest. To her knowledge, no one from her pack had ventured this far.
* * * *
Thane knew he was in dire need of a bath. His skin was covered with a day’s worth of filth and grime. Glancing down he saw the wolf’s mesmerizing blue eyes gleaming up at him. It brought a smile to his face, for she had been unconscious for three days. “Glad you decided to join the land of the living,” he said. “I imagine you are quite hungry.”
He set her down about twenty paces from the water’s edge, placing a fresh sliver of meat near the rocky bank. He pulled free his jerkin, removed his boots and soft leather trousers, then splashed out into the water.
* * * *
“What in the Earth Mother’s name was he doing?” she whispered to herself. She was obviously starving, and he put the food way out of reach. A flare of anger swept through her as she pulled herself to all fours. Moving in slow, painful steps, she eventually reached her meal and inhaled it in four bites. The flash of anger quickly subsided when she realized what he was actually doing. It was his way of making her work, exercise to strengthen her weakened limbs.
She plopped down on the smooth of a rock, content from the supper, and watched the human bathe. His physique was nothing short of impressive. He was incredibly wide-shouldered, thick-chested, and his powerful arms had her infatuated. His face was neither soft nor beautiful as Arran’s or the other two brothers, but she believed he was ruggedly handsome with a chin of rock and chiseled cheekbones. It was the face of a warrior, a face that held several faint scars that had seen a fair share of battles, or so she assumed.
He dipped down low and submerged himself completely in the sparkling water. When he rose, his skin glistened from a shaft of light that escaped through the tall trees. It captured his male form perfectly, his body glowing like a warrior god with rivulets of water cascading from his hard chest. When he stepped closer toward the bank, Rain’s eyes grew wide and a breath held in her chest. She could hardly believe the monster dangling between his muscled thighs. It was every bit as impressive as the man himself. The three brothers did not hold a candle to this human warrior, and she tilted her head curiously to take a second look. Even in a docile state the thing was intimidating. Her body warmed considerably watching the water run from the thick head of his cock as he walked past. To her amazement, she felt the onset of arousal, a sweltering heat that cramped her loins while she was in wolf form. Not even the three brothers managed to cause her body to react this way while she was a wolf—it was unheard of.
The human did not take notice of her as he swept past to wrap a large hand around the hilt of his sword. He leveled the blade and began a slow routine, bringing the sword to bear in full sweeps, reversing, and slowly stalking the other direction. He did this over and over again with smooth, easy steps, the sword always balanced and even.
It was a dance, Rain believed—a deadly dance of man and sword as one. She continued to watch in awe as the man spun, twirling high in the air only to land softly on two feet. He was graceful for such a large man and held the heavy sword like an extension of his arm. She quickly realized that he was a killer, a well-practiced soldier with deadly talents.
* * * *
When he had finished his exercise, he jumped back into the water to wash away the sweat from his body. Only when he pulled on his trousers he noticed the wolf staring directly at him. He wondered what the wolf was thinking. Would she run from him when she regained the use of her legs, or did he make a friend? He hoped he made a friend. In truth, he was hopelessly lost in the forest, and the wolf’s company eased that nagging voice in his mind that was telling him he made a grave mistake by going south. He removed a small tinder box from his hip pouch and made another small fire then stepped away.
* * * *
Rain, all alone, could feel the darkness closing in on her, the shadows of the forest drawing near. She shivered, glanced all about, and came to the sudden realization that the human was very much her only chance at survival. If he chose to abandon her, she would perish. Each minute that passed without the warrior in sight only fed her fears. When the giant finally strolled back carrying two rabbits in hand, she relaxed and wanted to smile. She wanted to hold him, to show her appreciation for being there when she needed him most. He was a gift from the heavens—a miracle that fell from the stars.
Chapter 6
The village elder, Yolta, stared menacingly at the three brothers. He wobbled around them in slow circles. “You may ask yourselves why I called for your return.” Zurk made to speak, but Yolta silenced him with a dismissive hand. “Colcu is dead, and we are in need of a new leader—a new alpha.” The shock and horribly disguised joy was clear on all three of their faces.
“The alpha must be named before the rise of the new moon, or it will be a bad omen,” Yolta continued. “The tournament begins in three days.”
The tournament, the brothers knew, was nothing but a fancy term for fighting, often times to the death. Besides Arran, Rander, and Zurk, there would be at least five other eligible males that could compete for alpha.
Once settled back in the familiar surroundings of their thatched roof hovel, the three brothers sat in silence. Arran, the smallest of the three, was the first to speak. “I for one do not wish to fight you—my own brothers. Why can this not be a test of mind instead of brawn?”
Rander laughed hysterically. “It is determined by strength, Arran. It has always been this way. I suggest you gracefully bow down from this one, dear brother, for I will take no pleasure in killing you.”
“Nor I,” Zurk said, casting an icy gaze toward Rander. The wide-shouldered Rander stood to meet Zurk’s intrepid eyes then stormed off.
“So it has already begun,” Arran chided. “We are brothers no more.”
Zurk calmed his surging emotions with a few deep brea
ths. “We are still and always will be brothers, although it would be wise for you to gracefully withdraw from this fight,” Zurk admitted. “Rander will kill you. If we are matched, I would only maim you horribly.”
That comment drew a laugh from Arran. “That is kind of you, brother. But to be the alpha is everything, and I grow tired of not having a warm body next to me at night. I am afraid I must compete.”
“If you choose not to fight when I take my rightful place as alpha, and because of my overwhelming generosity, I will allow you a woman. I will also extend the same offer to Rander.”
“That is generous of you,” Arran admitted. “But I have a feeling that you will only part with Toria or Bresa if you should become alpha.”
Zurk gave him an incredulous look then grinned. “You know me all too well, brother.”
Toria, although young and pretty-faced, was the size of three normal women. She was an oddity because she was not fat, in fact, she was muscle-bound, more so than most of the other clan males. Yolta had called it a birth defect and assumed it was the result of mating out of season.
Bresa, on the other hand, was an aging woman, frail and wand thin. She was going on her thirty-fifth season and had been one of Colcu’s concubines since he matured and became the alpha.
Last Knight of Jarna (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 3
