by Rae Monet
That he and this woman would meet? It was nearly impossible to believe. But there was one thing of which he was certain.
"Serena, no matter who you think I am, no matter what we discover about my heritage—there is one thing I am certain of. We will never be enemies, Serena. Never!” His statement came out as a roar, much louder than he intended and his hand fisted in Serena's dark mass of hair. He was as confident of this as he was Ian covering his back in battle.
He would never come to hate this woman. A deep place in his heart was convinced of that. He drew close to her, so close he could see the surprise in her clear green eyes.
All of a sudden Roan's doubts, his rage at her words, and any confusion he felt ceased, along with all other coherent thought. Serena slowly, seemingly reluctantly, reached out and lightly, so gently, touched his face. A sheen of tears glistened in her eyes as her fingers strayed to his neck, touched his pounding pulse.
Roan sensed her internal battle not to touch him. He also knew she had lost that fight; she seemed unable to restrain herself. He closed his eyes and absorbed the feel of her hand, like a butterfly brushing its wings against his neck. He reached out and instinctively captured her hand in his, their eyes connecting. Roan felt drawn to her as if an invisible force was pulling him toward her. He lowered his face downward and drew his lips closer to hers.
He needed her so badly.
He was a breath away, and she was all he could think about. They were not enemies—they were man and woman, and he felt it all the way to his cock. He wanted to take her, make her his in every way.
Roan watched as Serena licked her lips and he could feel the rapid pulse in her wrist where he held her hand. He wanted to wrap himself so tightly around her that she would never give one thought to their status in the world. That all she would sense was his need and her own, and the feelings they shared, together. He knew he could be losing his mind, but the need to take her was so forceful, that all sense of propriety left him.
Just as his lips touched hers, just as he sought his first taste of his fantasy, Roan heard the rapid pounding of a horse approaching and he drew back, feeling slightly guilty.
He lunged for his sword, pulled it into his hands and jumped to his feet, ready to fight. First a huge gray wolf appeared, bounding through an opening in the woods, followed by a large man on his horse. Roan was stunned to see the wolf. They had been hunted in earnest for a long time, and few remained in England.
"Roan.” Serena cried, “Stand down, it is my brother, Richard!"
At her command Roan relaxed his stance, yet he did not completely lower his sword. The gray wolf approached him. Its fangs were drawn in a growl so ferocious it made the hairs on the back of Roan's neck rise.
"Caine, hold!” A command from Serena had the huge animal sitting on his haunches, waiting for the next order.
"Friend, Caine."
Wagging his tail like a pet dog, Caine approached Roan as a completely different animal. Kneeling, Roan extended his hand, and Caine nuzzled Roan's fingers with his nose. He was more fearful of the wolf taking off his hand than crazy King Edward I who had knighted him with a sharpened blade, cutting a small line in Roan's neck to show his dominance over Roan.
"He won't hurt you now."
Leaning down, Roan swept his hand over the wolf's soft fur. It had been many years since anything resembling a wolf had inhabited the area. The hunting of them had taken its toll. It was a sad tale indeed when a King's order could kill an entire race of beautiful animals. Roan assumed the man, who dismounted and now held a sword in his hand, was Richard.
"Richard, rest easy. He is Solarian. Come, see to my wound."
Richard immediately sheathed his sword and stepped in the direction of Serena. There was no hesitation in his movements, his trust of Serena's orders observable and commendable despite the presence of a stranger. Roan found himself letting out his breath when Serena did not mention he was English. Maybe his declaration, that they would never be enemies, made a difference to her. Perhaps she would accept what he said as the truth, just as he accepted what Serena had told him. There seemed to be an unspoken trust between them. If any other person had told him he was of another race of people, he would have laughed. But somehow, with Serena, there was a bond. Without even thinking, he trusted her. It was the same bond that Richard seemed to have with her.
Bending down, Richard placed his hand on Serena's head, then her shoulder. He tensed, then closed his eyes. “Serena, it is a deep wound, although clean. I can take away most of the pain and stop the bleeding, but I must stitch it. I will place you into a deep sleep.” Richard moved around her, tending to her. “How could this have happened? You are far too skilled to be injured like this. And why are you bleeding? Did you not use the breathing technique?"
Roan hunched down next to Richard. Serena's gaze touched on him.
"I was distracted. I could not concentrate enough on the breathing technique."
Somehow Roan knew she tried to make her voice sound casual. Realizing what she was saying, his gaze flew to make contact with hers. It was his desire that had caused her distraction, first during the battle, and then when he had tried to kiss her.
"Serena, I..."
Serena saw the guilt on Roan's face and understood he was trying to acknowledge that he had caused her precarious state. But it was with herself Serena was most angry. She should not have let Roan's thoughts distract her, not even Richard possessed the power to do that.
She had gone five and twenty years without allowing her mind to become distracted, yet somehow she couldn't control her senses with this man. His nearness confused her. She placed her hand over his and shook her head.
He stopped speaking and turned her hand over. He held their hands palm to palm. Her pulse accelerated and more blood seeped onto the bandage. She tried hard to convince herself they should not be doing this and that they were enemies. But just as she had wanted to feel his lips against hers earlier, she craved his touch as much now.
"Serena.” Richard's voice cut through her rising desire and stirring emotions. He looked at their entwined hands with a knowing expression.
"Richard, this is Roan,” Serena told her bother excitedly, purposely leaving out that he was English. She didn't want to explain that fact to Richard yet.
"Roan, remove your shirt and show him your mark."
Releasing her hand, Roan raised his eyebrows at her request, and for a moment, wished she were asking him to remove his shirt for an altogether different reason. He shook his head and concentrated on keeping his attention on the task at hand.
"Richard, he is the one,” Serena said, as Roan removed his shirt. “He's the lost Wolf Warrior of Solaria. He has no memories of his life before he was found in the woods near the old village. He also has the mind sense."
Richard, with a doubtful expression, peered at Serena. Roan heard him catch his breath when he saw his mark. Richard ran his hand over Roan's skin, over his mark.
"A Solarian Wolf Warrior. Serena, you are correct. This mark cannot be mistaken. I can't believe it.” Richard turned back to Serena.
"Richard, he called to me when I was on the trail. I heard him! I came to aid him. He can hear my words. Try it! Test him!"
Serena's enthusiasm was plain in her voice. Richard closed his eyes in apparent concentration.
Roan felt a now familiar blinding pain in his head, followed this time by a bright light.
It is Richard. Can you hear me?
"Yes,” Roan roared. “I would appreciate it if you would both stop doing that.” He brought his hand to his head.
Richard lifted his hand to Roan's head and commanded, “Release the pain."
With those words, the pain in Roan's head was gone.
I'll be damned, Roan thought.
He breathed a sigh of relief and circled around motioning toward Serena.
"Is it not a better idea to see to Serena rather than to me?"
"Do not worry, Roan, Serena feels no pa
in,” Richard stated calmly, turning to her. “I think you are correct, Serena. What good fortune we have had to discover him."
"Roan,” she breathed his name. Roan dropped on his knees and leaned closer to her. He was confused about his own intentions. He was unsure if it was to be near her, or rather to hear what she was going to say that caused him to kneel so close.
"Richard is a healer. Show him your mark, Richard.” She waved her hand. Richard removed his shirt, and turned so Roan could see his right shoulder. He bore the same mark as Serena, however, instead of a wolf, his symbol was a black raven.
Amazed, Roan frowned at Serena, he couldn't believe what his eyes and mind were telling him. He was reeling with the implications of their story. This strange pair, who bore such likeness to each other, were his kin, his people. He felt the smallness of Serena's hand tangle with his, and he was sure his hand was trembling.
"We have much to teach you, Roan. There is a great deal for you to learn. You will be proud of your people. I promise you. You must overcome their fear first, of your English upbringing but...” Serena's eyes were blinking rapidly, and she was very pale again. Her pulse was weak in his hand.
Despite her claim that they were enemies, Roan could sense her need to make him feel welcome. In her pain, she had easily rejected the notion that they should be adversaries. This conflict she had created between them was a farce. He guessed it was just a way for her to erect a wall against her confused feelings about him. Their connection seemed to far exceed her need to rebuff him. The thought warmed him and he smiled to himself.
Roan bowed over her while he tenderly pulled her hand to his lips. There was something about this fierce woman to which he felt linked. Her petite yet callused hand intertwined with his. The heat that radiated from the touch of their hands was intense. The possessive feelings he experienced when his eyes roved her face, and the rage he had felt when the arrow had struck her shoulder, were powerful.
The bond that these feelings created in him was so strong that he hesitated, from fear of an answer, to consider why.
He shook his head while he thought about how the most feared warrior of England could be frightened of a mere woman. How he could be both anxious yet frightened of the feelings she brought forth in him, and the extraordinary link he sensed between them.
* * * *
Richard observed Roan with Serena and suddenly became aware of what had distracted her. It was this man, they had a mate connection, and Richard could sense it. Some Solarian legends talked of a magical connection between the future Solarian leaders, one male and one female, who would save their people. This pair would be soul-mates in every way. Richard had to wonder, studying Roan and Serena, if they were the ones.
He smiled at the idea.
Serena had never been interested in any of the men in the village of the Realm. Many had attempted to win her hand, but she would have none of them. She had always concentrated on her training, mastering her skills, almost to obsession, dismissing male suitors like unwanted insects.
"Richard, what ails her? She grows pale and her heart is beating so slowly."
Richard's heart danced with happiness and he placed his hand on Roan's shoulder.
"Do not fear, I have placed her in a healer's sleep. She will feel no pain. Her heart has slowed to decrease the bleeding. I will now work on her wound. I am a gifted healer; I vow to you she will feel better by morning."
Roan nodded but did not release her hand. Richard moved to her other side and began to unwrap her wound. Caine lay down beside Roan and placed his head on Serena's leg.
"So tell me, Roan, did Serena explain to you what it means to be English?” Richard saw Roan wince, and he raised his eyebrows.
"Hoping I didn't pick up that little bit of information, were you?” Richard tried to not laugh at Roan's expression.
"Yes, I was hoping that."
Richard shook his head. Unlike Serena, and most of the others in the Realm, he did not have an instant hatred for another human just because of their upbringing. Richard was sworn to heal; the background of those he helped made no difference to him.
"Roan, I am a healer. We try not to carry the prejudices of our ancestors. I will judge you for who you are, not how you were raised. But I cannot say the same for others. The English greatly wronged our race, killing over half of our population in one bloody raid. Our people have good reason for their loathing, although I am not in agreement. You will be required to overcome a great deal of this hatred to gain acceptance. Serena is..."
"I know, Richard, she told me. However, I have already explained to her that she and I will never be enemies."
This time Richard actually laughed.
"Oh, you have told her that.” He worked on. “Just out of curiosity, Roan, how did she accept your order?” Richard watched Roan hesitate before he answered.
"Well, we ... um ... really didn't have much chance for discussion."
"Hmmm,” Richard answered, smiling knowingly. This should be an interesting relationship, he thought. He had no doubt that Roan was in for the fight of his life, but he also saw a strong bond between the two of them. He was confident that connection would overcome Serena's protests quickly. Serena had much more difficult worries than that of one compelling Wolf Warrior.
"Richard, it was I who distracted her ... I could have killed her."
Roan's voice washed over Richard. He could hear the regret and the anguish. “I doubt that you could have killed her, Roan. She is a warrior of the highest caliber, despite the fact she was momentarily distracted by your thoughts. She is familiar with the voices of those in the Realm. You are a new voice and I assure you it will not happen again. I would recommend that you practice with her and allow her to become familiar with your voice.” His hands worked with practiced efficiency as he stitched Serena's shoulder.
"I do not know how to practice, Richard. I do not understand any of this. What Serena and you are saying is unbelievable to me. I am not even sure why I believe what you are saying,” Roan growled. In frustration, he ran a hand through his hair.
"I sympathize, Roan. It is not an easy concept to grasp. You may practice with Caine. As a Wolf Warrior, you are able to communicate not only with other Solarians within a short range but also with the wolf. You will always have a connection with them."
Roan helped Richard roll Serena over so he could work on the back of her wound as he shook his head in disbelief. He had sincere doubts that he could communicate with this wolf with only his thoughts.
"Just concentrate on Caine and give him a command. Roan, your abilities have not left you. They remain dormant inside you. You just have not commanded them to come forth.” Roan gave Richard another dubious look. Richard tilted his head to Caine, “Try it. Concentrate,” he urged Roan.
Roan peered at Caine, who was gazing protectively at Serena. He closed his eyes and concentrated.
Come to me.
When he opened his eyes, Caine was in front of him, sitting and awaiting his next command. Roan patted his head and sent him back down to Serena's leg.
Richard shrugged his shoulder when Roan said, “Amazing."
"See,” said Richard. He finished with Serena's shoulder. Then at Richard's insistence, Roan allowed him to stitch his arm and tend his side.
Chapter Three
Serena awoke to tightness in her right shoulder and unexpected warmth on her left side. Richard lay several feet away wrapped in his own blanket, blissfully sleeping. Feeling a faint stir of breath on her neck, her heart began to flutter when she recognized the man attached to her side.
Their intertwined hands were pulled up to his chin, which was now covered with a slight, dark shadow, giving him a rough-looking appearance. In sleep, his chiseled features became almost childlike. His lips were softened from their concerned grimace. Beneath his eyes were dark purple circles, attesting to his lack of sleep. She reached forward to touch him.
God I want to run my hands over every inch of him, she thought
.
His eyes opened immediately, his beautiful blue stare linked with hers, a slight smile touched his lips. She flexed her hand in his. Her fingers were numb.
He seemed to recognize her movement and he placed her hand between both of his and rubbed the feeling back into it. The contact made her warm all over, and her eyes half closed. He reached over and pushed some of her hair off her face. It was a simple gesture, one that sent tingles down her body, and she inhaled sharply. She couldn't understand her feelings for this man. When he was near, she couldn't think except to picture her body wrapped sensually around his.
He moved closer.
"How do you feel this morn?” His face hovered above hers.
She watched his lips form the words, but she didn't really hear them. Instead she wished those lips would touch hers. She shook her head.
What is wrong with me? she wondered.
She was well known for her discipline against distraction. But now her discipline failed her. Her senses were full of feelings, both his and her own. His breath was exhaling rapidly above her lips. She had not lived five and twenty years without some knowledge of a man's aroused state. The outline of his hardened penis was pressed intimately against her leg. He was staring at her lips now, and she licked them in anticipation. She heard his groan as he moved even closer. His smell surrounded her, a musky male smell, a unique smell that sent her senses reeling. She was getting damp. His hand lightly caressed her cheek. Just as his lips touched hers, Caine nosed his way past Roan and started licking her face. She reached up to ward him off.
"It would seem that I am not the only one with a desire to greet you this morn."
She laughed at Caine's antics. He lifted himself away from her. She felt the immediate loss of his body heat, causing her to shiver, reacting to the coldness of the morning dew, and felt emotions much deeper that she couldn't identify. She shifted into a sitting position, berating herself for her feelings. She grimaced at the tightness in her shoulder, yet felt little pain.
"Richard has done well, the pain is slight.” She rolled her shoulder to and fro, testing her ability to move. She pushed at Caine to stop him from licking her face and rubbed her hand over his soft gray head. He had been her trusted companion since the age of fifteen, and she had a great affection for him.
