The Cursed Wolf

by Amber Jantine

  "Not severe enough." Mother stepped forward and jabbed one finger against the center of his chest. It could not have been much of an impact, yet she could hear the air rush out of his mouth, as if it had been forced out by a much more powerful blow. "I do not believe you ever intended to keep your word. I think you just wanted an excuse to come sniffing around my daughter again."

  "Mother!"

  Christopher's eyes glowed with a rage unlike anything she had seen from him before and the growl that rumbled from his chest sounded as if he were about to shift back into his wolf-form, even though it was no longer the full moon. “And if you were not her mother, I would kill you for such a remark. I would never insult Theresa’s honor in that way.”

  Mother visibly recoiled, then she turned and began ushering Theresa toward their small home.

  Away from him.

  Theresa glanced over her shoulder. Christopher still stood exactly where they had left him and that haunted expression was back in his eyes.

  She knew how he had felt about killing. About violence. That part of him hadn’t changed since they were children together.

  Yet… he’d been willing to do violence. To be haunted forever by the memories of what he’d done to harm another.

  For her.

  He’d said that he loved her. That he’d always loved her.

  Maybe…

  “Tell her the truth, old woman,” he said roughly. “Tell her what happened before. What I asked. She deserves that much.”

  Then he turned and stalked away.

  Back toward the woods.

  “What did he mean by that?”

  “It does not matter.” Mother took her by the arm and tugged. “We must look for others to continue the work that he could not finish.”

  “He wasn’t the only wolf out there, Mother. Why do you blame him alone?”

  She muttered something under her breath but did not answer.

  “I think enough has already been done.”

  “What? Did you not here what I said? Those men still live.”

  “But they will be cursed.” She recalled what Christopher had told her about that. About the source of his scars. “Won’t they?”

  “They still live,” Mother repeated, her voice growing absent as her eyes glazed over. It was almost as if she hadn’t heard her.

  “His brothers did nothing wrong. Why is it so important for them to die?”

  “They hurt you.”

  “Only Edward did. I told you that his brothers were unaware of our… involvement.”

  “I assumed you were trying to protect them.”

  Why would she have done that? She’d never had the slightest inkling that her mother was planning any sort of revenge. “Tell me what Christopher thinks I should know.”

  Mother glared at her. “Why all the questions? Why do you doubt me?” She looked her over deliberately, making Theresa squirm. She knew her clothing was rumpled, but she could explain that away by spending the night out in the woods. She would not have to admit to the truth of what she and Christopher had done.

  Not that she was ashamed of it. Though she ought to be. But it had been something so precious and special, she didn’t want to share it with anyone. Didn't want to hear it being talked down and dismissed, or even condemned, as she was certain her mother would do. "Why are you hiding this from me?"

  "I'm trying to protect you. To take care of you as I should." Mother looked her over again. "Please tell me you have not been foolish again. That you've fallen for another pretty face."

  Had she? Perhaps she had. Or perhaps her interest in Christopher had always been there. Lying dormant during their separation. "You knew what happened to him. About his attack. He said you were asked to heal him. Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I thought you would take pity on him too much." No mention of what Christopher had said, about how he'd asked her mother not to tell her. There was also an odd note to her mother's voice. Another hint that she was hiding so much more. "He actually had the nerve to think he could marry you! Even after becoming a monster."

  "He isn't a monster." Her heart soared. This was confirmation of what he'd said that morning. That he wasn't just asking her to marry him because they had lain together. "He asked you?'

  "Yes, yes. He asked. While he was just a boy and again when you were sixteen." Mother was truly growing agitated now, pacing about the small room. "But I would never agree for my daughter to marry a beast."

  "How was he attacked?"

  "You think I know?"

  "I don't know. Do you?" If Mother had been able to rally several of the cursed wolves to attack Edward, who was to say that she had not done something similar to Christopher?

  It was a horrible feeling, to think her mother capable of something like that. But it seemed to be an inescapable truth.

  Theresa’s heart sank and she slipped away to her room. Needing the time alone to think.

  The building soon filled with the scents of a variety of herbs. Mother was working magic of some kind.

  Theresa yawned. It was sudden and unexpected and she suspected that the herbs were a part of that. Some of them, she knew, were common ingredients in a sleeping potion. Things that she’d always thought were only effective when they were swallowed. She’d never had a reaction to anything that Mother had made before.

  Not like this.

  Could she be trying to put Theresa to sleep? And for how long?

  She didn't know. She had no idea what her mother was up to, but she didn’t want any part of it.

  Not now.

  And maybe not ever again.

  She slipped out the window and once out in the open air, her head immediately cleared. Turning back briefly to check if she had been seen, she saw her mother heading toward the opposite direction.

  Toward the village.

  Carrying a basket heavy with the things she would need to work magic.

  Strange.

  Where could she be going?

  Keeping at a safe distance, Theresa followed. Mother headed for a home not far from their own, but one that was much larger and clearly richer.

  Raised voices greeted her, the agitated words traveling on the wind. This was where Edward and his brothers had been taken after they were attacked. It seemed that the wolves had left another man in the group untouched. He was the one who had sought aid in time to save the lives of the others.

  If not for that, it was likely that the three brothers would have bled to death out on the road.

  Someone ushered Mother inside. Theresa followed. She had left her cloak at home and her plain but sturdy wool gown made it easy for her to pass as a servant of this household. That status rendered her essentially invisible to most.

  The main disturbance in the dwelling seemed to center around a room near the back. Not far from the kitchens, which was a rather unusual place to put anyone. She had to assume that it had been for convenience. Keeping the patients close to where water could be boiled for cleaning both wounds and bandages.

  She peeked inside, ready to draw back in an instant if her mother happened to look in her direction. But she was not paying attention to anything except for the contents of the baskets.

  From the doorway, Theresa could see all three brothers. Pallets had been brought into the room that was clearly a storage area, so that Edward and his brothers could be kept together while in their precarious state.

  The youngest of the brothers was the closest to the door. Adrian. The extensive bandages on his shoulder, chest and throat was silent testament as to the extent of his injuries. More deep wounds were visible and exposed on his face. No dressings had been used for those, for some strange reason.

  Tears sprang to her eyes.

  He was so pale. So close to death.

  The elder brother, Luke was in a similar state. The lines of his face were drawn tight with pain. Again, she wondered at why he had been attacked. Christopher had said that he and the other wolves had been fully conscious of what they were
doing, when they'd ambushed the brothers.

  Which meant... this carnage was far from accidental. Every last bit of it had been deliberate. Done upon her mother's orders.

  Finally, Theresa turned her attention to Edward. Any anger she'd been feeling dissolved when she saw him. He was the most seriously wounded of the three and the agony in his expression was such that she would have to be completely hard-hearted to not feel sorry for him. Despite everything that had happened between them, she would never have wished this upon him.

  Nor did she wish for his death.

  For she knew now that she had to take some of the blame for what had happened between them. Needed to acknowledge that she had deluded herself and more and had allowed herself to see things and imagine things that had not been there. Had never been there. Memories she'd long denied came forward and she recalled times she'd seen Edward flirting with other women. Both before and during the time that they had been intimate.

  She could not call what they had been to each other 'lovers.' She might have believed that she was in love with him at some time, but knew now that she hadn't known what that emotion was. What it was supposed to be.

  Something more like...

  Mother leaned in close to Edward and her voice was a dramatic whisper, audible even from this distance, as she told the injured man exactly what her responsibility for his situation was. Why she'd taken revenge on him. Relating the details of the things that she'd instructed the wolves to do to him and his brothers, in order to avenge Theresa.

  Confirming what Theresa had suspected. That Mother had included all three brothers in her plan of vengeance.

  She was gloating over the brothers' injuries, knowing that the damage inflicted on the two innocents would only hurt Edward more.

  Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.

  Theresa turned away as an older man entered the room. He was a physician from one of the larger cities who had sometimes come to treat the wealthier travelers at the inn she'd worked at. His presence surprised her. She knew his services were quite expensive.

  Something she had assumed was out of the reach of a common sailor like Edward.

  But there was no time to wonder at the oddity. Mother and the doctor were arguing and he ordered her removed from the room. Theresa hurried away before she could be spotted.

  The horror and regret she felt over everything she had discovered was nearly overwhelming. She didn't want to go home now. She wasn't sure she wanted to go home ever again.

  How could she live with her mother, knowing the madness that she had ordered? It wasn't just what she had wanted done to Edward and his brothers. It was the fact that she'd deliberately gone and involved Christopher in her plot. Knowing full-well that his normally gentle nature would never have allowed him to draw blood in that way.

  He too, would be haunted forever by what had happened.

  He didn't deserve that burden.

  As she headed out of the village, she saw Christopher. He was walking the path back to her isolated home, but turned, nose raised in the air as if he'd caught her scent, and turned to face her before she could say a word.

  Held out his hand.

  She hesitated only a moment then closed the distance between them to place her hand in his. He silent lead her back into the woods.

  They walked for quite a time, putting a good deal of distance between themselves and her home. She was turned around and lost, completely depending on him to know the way.

  But she had no fear of him. She could never fear him. Which was something she could not say about anyone else in her life.

  And that now included her mother.

  Finally, they paused in a clearing. She recognized it as a place they had often played together as children, chasing each other around the bushes and climbing the trees. Lying together in the grass and whispering secrets.

  Innocent fun during a much simpler time.

  He drew her into his arms and there was nothing innocent about the look in his eyes now. They were nearly black and full of hunger as he leaned down to touch his mouth to hers.

  The first contact of his mouth was soft. Almost tentative.

  But when she looped her arms around his neck, opening her mouth to his, a low growl rumbled against her lips and he crushed her against him. He slid one hand down her back, cupping her bottom as he rocked his hips against her.

  She could feel him. Feel how hard he was.

  And her body grew slick in response.

  He drew back slightly, his nostrils flaring. She was reminded of a comment he’d made about being able to smell certain reactions her body made. It meant that she couldn’t hide how she was responding to him now.

  She didn’t want to hide.

  Instead, she tilted her head back, lips parted, silently urging him to continue.

  And he did.

  This time, there was nothing tentative about his kiss. He plundered her mouth, sweeping his tongue inside. She cried out, feeling like she was melting against him as her legs gave way. His arms tightened around her, keeping her from falling.

  The world seemed to whirl all around her and she realized they were moving. Turning. Her back pressed against something hard and rough and it took her a moment before she realized that it was the trunk of a tree.

  His body pinned her against the bark as he lifted her skirt. She reached down to try to help him, needing him as much as he needed her, but it was awkward and he soon pushed her hands out of the way.

  She persisted. Still needing to touch him. As they continued to kiss, she slipped her hand back down, molding her fingers against the front of his trousers.

  Christopher made another low sound, wilder than a growl as he pushed into her touch. She could feel that part of him pulsing through the fabric. Growing thicker and harder against her fingers.

  She fumbled with the buttons. Needing to touch his skin.

  He made another harsh sound and pushed her hands away again. Reaching down to work the buttons of his garment, freeing that hard part of him.

  It sprang out almost as if it had a life of its own.

  She stared down in wonder.

  He was the only man she'd ever seen like this. Even with Edward, their encounters had been done in haste and often in the dark. She had never felt much curiosity to see him.

  That struck her now as being rather odd.

  Maybe that was, or should have been, her first warning that things were not right between them. That even her feelings were not of the sort that would lead to anything permanent.

  It had been an infatuation. Nothing more. She knew that now, because she had to acknowledge that somehow, in some way, her thoughts and her heart had been with Christopher the whole time. She'd only dismissed what they had between them as a childhood friendship because he had seemed to have removed himself from her life.

  Now that she knew that he hadn't left her by choice. That her mother may have even taken the most extreme of measures to get rid of him.

  Still, she wasn't quite ready to call this love yet.

  But she did know that she wanted him. More than that, she wanted to pleasure him in much the way that he had done for her.

  His breath hissed sharply between his teeth as she took him in her hand. Touching his bare skin. She marveled at the strangeness of it. At the shape and size that seemed so odd, yet had fit inside her so perfectly.

  He was incredibly warm. She had never known that anything could be so hot. And the way it pulsed, as if his heart beat with it.

  It twitched with life. With his strength.

  She ran her fingers down its length to where it emerged from a thick thatch of curling hair. She glanced up into Christopher's eyes and once again, was struck by the wonder there. Once again, she was left wondering if any woman had done this for him before. If someone so strong and handsome could have remained untouched all of this time.

  He covered her hand with his. "There's never been anyone else but you, Theresa."

  His words nearly t
ook her breath away. His cheeks were flushed a deep red. She'd always been the only one who could make him blush when they were children and she wondered if that still held true now. "I find that hard to believe."

  "I would never lie to you."

  No. He wouldn't. She knew that. "I wouldn't have asked you to wait for me." Especially since she'd ultimately ended up giving her virginity to another.

  "I didn't see the point of being with a woman just to be with a woman, if that makes any sense."

  "It does, in a way." And it only heightened the sense of what their previous night together had meant. How important it was.

  She dropped to her knees, a little awkwardly as her skirt got in the way. Still holding him in her hand, she began to stroke him. Up and down the full length. He groaned and arched his back, pushing his hips toward her in a silent plea.

  The musky scent of his arousal filled her nostrils, as it was apparently stronger down here. She pressed a kiss to the tip of the rounded head and felt him jump in response. "What are—"

  "You used your mouth on me last night. I want to do the same for you."

  "You don't—" The words broke on a guttural cry as she parted her lips to take him in. Part of her wondered at what she was doing. Something she'd never considered with anyone else, though Edward had mentioned it more than once.

  It had seemed something odd and a little too wicked to be doing with him.

  With Christopher, it simply felt right.

  He filled her mouth and that strange pulsing of his flesh seemed to intensify. Her jaw strained as she tried to take all of him in. She couldn't do it. But found that by keeping her hand around the base of his shaft, she could still move up and down with her lips in much the same way that she'd done to him with her fingers alone.

  His fingers tangled in her hair, his palms cupping the back of her head as he rocked in time with her motions. Never pushing or trying to rush her. Letting her keep control of the pace, though the groans he made seemed to indicate that he was close to spilling.

  She sucked on him as best as she could, drawing back fully more than once to release him from her lips and swirl her tongue around the head. He let out a low curse each time she did that, until finally he tightened his grip on her head, stopping her before she could take him back into her mouth.