I rolled out from under him and rested my paw over his back, trying to push him down. He wouldn’t go. He was determined to prove his status against mine. Unfortunately for him, he’d bought himself a headstrong wolf, not a pussycat.
I leapt up a bit and placed both paws on his shoulders, forcing him into a roll as he swept around to get out of the submissive pose. As he landed on the ground, I tackled him, setting us into a tumbling battle for the alpha position. He was strong, and fast, but the cold air around us, the twigs sticking into my fur, and the smell of wet dirt and snow just made me feel more alive. Stronger than I ever had before. It was my first night in wolf form, but either Luther was going easy on me because of that, or I was equally as strong as him.
We came to a jolting stop in a ditch against a rock and I quickly assumed alpha position, all four paws over his body, pinning him down, my teeth in his neck. He yielded, panting heavily, and if I didn’t know better I would swear he was laughing. It was how I felt. I couldn’t actually laugh like a human laughs, but my mind, my skin and my lungs felt like they were.
Having established now that I was a better fighter than him—or maybe that he was kind enough to let me win on my first night—I backed off a bit, staying on top of him but releasing my bite. I could feel small pellets of fur all down my throat, but it didn’t bother me the way it did in human form.
In this darkness, the moon hiding beyond the canopy of trees, it felt like we were the only two wolves in the entire world. I fixed my eyes on his, lost in the oily blue depths of them. I could see my reflection a little there, not enough to see what color I was, but enough to know I was a lighter color with darker patches, like my mom.
Luther seemed to be studying something in my eyes, too—maybe his own reflection—but I couldn’t grasp the emotion that was coming off him. I needed to know him better first. I wanted to know him better.
And in that moment, as I felt a deep connection to him, he rolled out from under me and moved to sit a few feet away. I got up and sat on my haunches, looking at him. Thinking about him. I loved Luther in wolf form. I could easily fall for him thinking of him like that, and suddenly my life sentence here didn’t seem so awful.
He took off at a run then, a playful glint in his eye. I won the last round of Top Dog, but he wasn’t done proving himself, so I followed, eager to beat him again. As I charged through the forest, neither of us really trying to outrun the other, I finally understood the true meaning of frolic.
I finally understood what it felt like to be a wolf.
***
As I pulled on my dress and blue cloak again, Luther went deeper into the trees to Shed, and I couldn’t help but wonder about him. In that form, as a wolf, or as the kind man that gave me something so profound as the ability to turn, he was amazing. I mean, if I were out there in the real world, I would never even speak to a man that murdered people because a girl refused to marry him. And yet, in here, the rules didn’t seem to apply. Without much choice and in seeing a different side to him, I felt like maybe one day I could look past the bad and be in love with the good—maybe love the human Luther as well as the wolf. But, love as it may one day be, I’d never love him like I might have one day loved Alex. Ever. That was a different kind of love, not born out of necessity. It was real love.
I thought about the strange birds for a moment, and how far removed the wolf world felt in comparison. I once liked exploring different worlds, but found most of my mind-wandering these days was into the normal world, which I guess stemmed from being stuck here in another century. I mean, what was the deal with the regency era?
Theo’s explanation—that Luther was living a lie; that he never moved on past his true wife’s death and wanted to remain frozen in that time—didn’t make sense. I knew it was a lie because Theo said she died in childbirth when he was ten, but his sons Bayon and Aerik were born in the 1700s. Which means his mother died well before this time period.
There were too many lies surrounding this place, and none of them seemed necessary.
“Are you decent, Miss Redwood?” Luther called from the tree line.
“Yes.” I glanced over my shoulder to see him walk toward me. He did look good in those corny clothes, as much as I hated to admit it, and in the dawn light his blue eyes looked almost electric.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked.
“I don’t know what to make of you.”
“What to make of me?” He stood beside me, both of us overlooking the rising day.
“You’re not completely unlikable,” I confessed, and he laughed. “But I think maybe you’re insane.”
“Insane?” He jolted forward with disbelief, smiling. “Whatever makes you say that?”
“This whole different era thing is weird.” I presented my clothing as exhibit A. “Why do you make us live like this?”
Luther sighed, offering his gaze to the horizon as his hands went behind his back. “Do you truly want to know?”
“Yes.”
He glanced at me with eyes only, not moving his head, reading my face and taking it all into consideration. “What I am about to tell you stays between us.”
I nodded.
“Very well then.” He moved away from me and leaned against the rock, his back to the steep drop. He looked like a painting—one where you’d see a Beagle and a hunting rifle at the man’s side—his white high-waist pants and tall riding boots completing the picture. “I loved again—after my first wife Anora.”
“You did?”
“Yes. Anora died tragically in childbirth when Theowulf was just a boy, and though I married many times after that, I never truly classed any of them as my wives. Until I found Freya.”
“What was she like?”
“She was a lady. Kind, good-hearted and, as you may assume at this point, I knew her in a time when men were more civil than they are today. Or than they were in the time I was born, for that matter.”
“So, what?” I said, tucking my cloak in under my butt as I leaned on the rock beside him. “You’re saying your second wife lived in the early 1800s?”
“The second wife to take my name, my heart, yes,” he said sadly, swallowing hard. “And she died then, too.”
Right. So Theo didn’t lie. I just didn’t understand the whole truth as I do now. “Can I ask how she died?”
His jaw stiffened. “Childbirth.”
I rolled my eyes to a close. “I’m sorry.”
“It happens.” He stood up, gaining some distance. “It doesn’t have to make sense to you, April.” My heart skipped as he used my informal name. “This place—this estate—is a sanctuary for me to live in her memory. The world out there—” he lifted his arm high to present that world, dropping it weakly by his side after, as though it had defeated him, “—it’s a cruel place. She would not like it if she were alive today, and I do not like it either. I need a place to come home to where people are civil, where women are ladylike and where the meals served are a reflection of effort and study. I can no more live in that world out there than I can bear to live in this one without her, but at least, here, I feel her spirit with me.”
Wow. Sweet and romantic. Also insane. Someone should’ve given him grief counseling after she died. “How long were you together before… she…”
“Only two years, I fear.” He sighed, his whole body seeming to shrink for a brief moment before the alpha stepped up to claim it again.
“Is that why you haven’t… you know, slept with me yet? Are you afraid that will happen to me?”
“Far from it.”
“Oh.”
“I see no point in sharing your bed if we are not aiming to conceive, April. You do not love me and I do not love you,” he said harshly. “This is an arrangement; one that is supposed to benefit both parties.”
“And yet you keep me locked up.” I got to my feet. “I can’t have friends, see my family—”
“It is the way things are; how they have always been.”
; “Why?”
“Property, my dear. You are and always will be, as every one of my wives before you, my property, and—”
“But we’re in a new world, like it or not. And I have rights. Marking me as your property it’s…” for lack of a better word, all I could come up with was, “barbaric.”
“Barbaric?” He turned his head so our eyes met, and something cold flashed under them that scared me, but he seemed to draw it away as if reminding himself to be civil. “Yes, I suppose it is, by modern standards. But there are things that can change and things that cannot. And you will do well to accept those quickly and move on.”
I sighed to myself. Winning him over was going to take a lot more work than I thought. How had this gone from deep-and-meaningful to spiteful-and-snappy in such a short time?
“I want you to be happy here,” he added, his face angled to the moon as it faded into the morning. “I see that you are not, and so I will arrange a gift for you.”
“A gift?”
His eyes moved on to mine. “I hope that it will keep me in your good graces until the time is right that we should complete our union and have a son.”
“When will that be?”
“When the runes give me a sign.”
If he was a normal guy and this was a normal situation, I would have stood next to him and asked what my gift was. But I kind of felt like he’d tell me to wait and see, like a good little submissive wife. He was equal parts kind and cold, and I was never sure which one was going to surface. In fact, I decided he mustn’t be a wolf at all; he was a bi-polar bear. Angry and mean yet cute and almost cuddly sometimes. Only, I’d seen enough documentaries to know that if you tried to cuddle a polar bear, you might lose your arm. And Theo’s warning came to mind then: “Do not seek to ‘whatever’ his affection”. I don’t know. However he put it, all formal and old-sounding, he warned me not to try to win Luther over. I was smart enough to take that advice on board and wait until Luther was ready.
Part Three: Chapter Four
Lady and the Slave
Luther’s second wife had a lot to answer for. Well, her era did. I felt insanely sorry for the girls that grew up then, with no comfy underwear and stupid fur-lined puffs—that were like carrying around a cylindrical pillow with openings on both ends—to keep their hands warm. They were cute in theory, but not at all practical, and so once I was dressed and ready to go on my morning walk my modern era got the better of me. I changed into jeans and my red coat, regretting that decision as soon as my suede boots went inches deep into the powdery snow and it chilled my calves through my soft denim jeans. Despite being uncomfortable, Luther’s stupid regency clothes were better designed for this weather than jeans and suede boots. But it was too late; I was outside now and I wasn’t going back up to change.
The day was strangely beautiful under the chilling frost, even the sticky clumps of ice that clung to my knees and my sleeve just looked pretty today. If I didn’t pinch myself I’d have thought I was lost in one of Alex Plain’s odd worlds.
From a window in the east tower above me I could sense a pair of eyes looking down. I wasn’t sure who was watching, so I figured it was a good idea to play my role—be the ladylike epitome of the alpha wife Luther wanted, in case it was he watching. I just hoped he didn’t notice my modern clothing.
“Katy!” I demanded loudly. “Slave girl. What is wrong with you? Hurry up.”
Katy giggled to herself, trudging through the snow behind me with a picnic basket. She was such a sweet girl, and a hard worker. I could see a better life for her beyond these walls, if I could only get her out of here. I wanted to help carry the basket, or at least the picnic rug, but the old fashioned standards would have none of that so we trudged along, freezing but fresh, as if we weren’t friends at all but Lady and Slave.
We found a tree in the rear estate gardens, its boughs large enough to trap the snow before it could reach the ground, leaving it dry in a large circle around the thick, coarse trunk. Katy laid the picnic rug, the china and the teacake out, while I stood holding my beanie, taking in the darkish day. With heavy clouds overhead threatening a storm, the frozen pond in front of me, the snow capping on the trees and the frosty carpet, had all taken on a kind of blue hue. It was quiet, too, as if no one was around for miles. Which lent the illusion of being closed in, like sitting up talking late at night; it made me feel safe.
In spring these gardens would be so colorful. I was looking forward to seeing what flowers grew here on the sticks and twigs left behind by the blossoms. Not that I was much of a garden person, but with little else to look at from my window but a blanket of white snow and dense forest, it would be nice to see some bright greens and reds and even yellows.
“Tea is served, Miss Redwood.”
I turned around and put my cold hands into my pockets, shuffling my way over.
“Not so fast,” Katy warned, pointing to my shoes.
“Oh. Sorry.” I flicked the crystals of snow off before I stepped onto the rug, then sat down, taking the delicate floral teacup and the brass spoon to stir my sugar in. Tea needed a lot of sugar. I started drinking coffee six months ago, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever get used to the watery dullness of tea.
As I laid the spoon down on the saucer, the liquid gathered in the curve of it, gold and thin, it got me thinking.
“Is he afraid we’ll steal it?”
“Steal what?”
“The silverware.” I nodded at the brass spoon.
She looked confused. “We don’t have silverware. Only brass and gold.”
“Why aren’t we using gold then? I’m the alpha wife. Shouldn’t I be using his finest?”
“His Lordship only uses gold for parties. Real fancy stuff.”
So many elegant pictures came to mind, all sparkling and pretty. “I need to attend one of those parties, Katy,” I said, sipping my tea. “Which wives did he take to parties in the past?”
“The last one, Miss Cooper. But he locked her away after she gave birth to a girl.”
“What?” I almost spat my tea out. “So he does have daughters?”
Katy nodded, not meeting my eyes.
“Where are they all? And why did he lock her away for having a girl?”
“To punish her.”
“As if the gender was her fault?”
“It was her fault, Red.”
“How so?”
“’Cause she made the choice—”
“Choice?”
“She chose not to have a son to spite him. It’s always up to the woman.”
“No way!” I put my tea down. “Don’t you know anything about science?”
“Science?” she said, confused.
“It has nothing to do with the mother’s desires. The sex of the child is determined by the father.”
“No.” She shook her head, lowering her teacup to the saucer.
“Yes.” I shuffled closer. “We have an egg with the X chromosome, and the father has sperm with either an X or a Y, giving the child a gender—”
“No, it’s a ritual. The whole process. He knows when the time is right, and if the woman wants it, her child will be born a boy.”
I laughed. This whole place was ridiculous. Stuck in the past! I wanted to punch some sense into that man and everyone he’d tainted with stupidity. How could we, a powerful and noble pack, have let him rule for so long?
But then again, he didn’t rule, did he? He had others do it for him, while he lived the high life of parties and daily breeding rituals.
“Katy, let me tell you this for certain: no matter what lies Luther tells you, it is completely up to nature what gender the child will be born. Never the mother’s will.”
Her wide eyes seemed stuck to mine for a moment. When they shifted, she looked almost apologetic.
“Argh.” I sat back against the tree, folding my arms. “I hate this place.”
“It’s not so bad—”
“No, it is.” I just wanted to cry. It was so
frustrating to be around people that had never been taught any better. She bought what Luther had sold her, everyone here did, and since he kept them all locked away from the real world none of them would ever question him. I once wanted so badly to evaporate and live in one of Alex Plain’s story worlds, and now I’d give anything to live in the real world again—away from all this crazy.
“Katy?” I said quietly.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to live here anymore.”
“Did you ever?” She smiled.
“No.” I smiled back but it withered away. “I only came because of the stories.”
“Stories?”
“About Luther killing the family of the girl who tried to back out of their contract.”
“Oh.” Katy nodded, casting her eyes downward. “I’ve heard that one.”
I nodded. “I wish I could go home. I wish that every day.”
“But if you went home, who would I talk to?”
“I know.” I sat up and took the hand she offered me. “But I miss Alex.”
“And his story worlds?”
“Yeah.” I laughed to myself, nodding. “I miss the way he made me feel; you know, like anything in the world is possible.”
“I can’t even imagine feeling like that.”
“I wish you could.” I let go of her hand. “Don’t you feel that way with Theo?”
“With Theo?” Her eyes narrowed in confusion.
“He loves you, right? Won’t he take you away from here one day?”
“Not likely.” She laughed, shaking her head. She busied herself with food preparation then, as if she meant to leave it there. Until she thought better of it. “He can’t love me, Red. Even if he does, he can never say it, and we can never truly be together.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m a slave. I was born into slavery and I’ll die a slave too.”
“Katy, if he loves you, Theo will never let that happen.”
“But he will.” She poured me another tea. “He has no choice. His father will never allow him to love a human, a slave nonetheless, so what hope is there?”
Red: The Untold Story Page 15
