PRINCE OF WOLVES

by Susan Krinard

  "Precisely," He bit off the word "And the bed you're lying in belongs to another."

  A sudden and inexplicable rage gripped Joey, strong enough to make her gasp with it "What kind of game are you playing with me?" She snorted, almost bitter. "I see. All of this was some kind of elaborate amusement for you, wasn't it? All that back-and-forth, agreeing to guide me, the cave—I'll grant that you couldn't have been responsible for the bear, although if you can talk to wolves, I suppose..."

  "Joey." The growl of his voice wasn't even human. It paralyzed her in the midst of the tirade. "Be quiet."

  The words might as well have been bonds of steel. It was as if her mouth were muffled, her eyes clouded, her senses suspended, so that she could do nothing but stare at him in impotent helplessness. His eyes seemed so cold that there was nothing so recognizable as mere anger in them. All at once she understood the source of his power, the same power that made the people of Lovell avoid him, that made him so capable of fascinating and repelling at the same time. The power of a predator over its vanquished prey.

  "If you won't believe, I'll have to make you understand, Joey," he said from a great distance "Everything you see and hear will be real. I didn't want to do it this way."

  In a few quick motions he had discarded his clothing and stood naked before her; before her eyes he began to change. She had no choice but to watch in powerless fascination as the familiar planes and subtle curves of his body began to shift, blurring, making her blink when suddenly there was nothing there to focus on but a haze like the shimmering illusion of water on hot pavement. And then Luke's eyes were staring up at her, unchanged except in shape, from the face of a magnificent gray wolf.

  She knew the wolf, knew it from countless shifting dreams and visions. Knew it from the first time when she had met it on the hillside, recognized in it the ghostly shape that had howled under a bright moon on the neatly manicured lawn of the lodge, saw in it the animal that had so conveniently come to her rescue by the lake. Just before Luke had appeared, with equal convenience, to take her back to his cabin.

  Her eyes told her what her mind could not grasp. There was one absolute certainty, one simple fact that beat its way into her stubbornly incredulous brain. Luke's eyes. They were Luke's eyes. His heart was in them. And in the moment that indisputable reality struck home, the wolf flung back its head and howled.

  The mournful cry wound itself around her, worked its way deep into her soul and pierced her heart. She knew that voice as she knew Luke's, it had penetrated her dreams, and in the dreams she had understood the wordless message.

  She had only the barest instant of comprehension before the door to the room burst open and a little dark-haired girl plunged through it, hurling herself immediately at the wolf. At—even now, her mind could not quite form the thought. Even when she knew it was true.

  "Qu'est-ce qui n'va pas, Luc?" Claire's voice was strident, and she flung her small arms around the great shaggy neck, burying her face in the lush fur. The wolf shifted to nuzzle her cheek, and then two sets of alien eyes turned to regard Joey unblinkingly.

  Claire frowned at Joey It was in that moment that the invisible bonds that held her snapped free, and Joey gasped. The full force of what she had witnessed nearly stopped her heart. It lurched and resumed its normal rhythm as everything settled into an inevitable pattern.

  "Luke." There was no fear, only dawning wonder "Luke?"

  With a gentle push the wolf disentangled itself from Claire and padded to the side of the bed. At this proximity it—he—was so huge and menacing that any sensible person would have frozen instinctively into paralyzed shock. As it was, Joey saw her hand moving independently of her will, descending, hesitating just above the black-tipped fur of a massive shoulder.

  The wolf pressed into her caress, and the green-gold eyes slitted with unmistakable pleasure. Her hand sank deep into the rich pelt, marveling in the texture. Her fingers remembered the feel of it, and suddenly she recalled a comforting presence when she had lain, dazed and hurting, in the cave. Eyes that had looked at her as these did now, from a distinctly inhuman face. She had known him then. Her heart had known when her mind had been too far away to interfere.

  A small, warm hand stopped hers in its motion. Claire made a short announcement, demonstrating her words by crooking her fingers and scratching Luke just behind his large, triangular ears. With a distinctly human sigh of contentment, Luke closed his eyes completely and rested his impressive jaw on the edge of the bed as Joey followed Claires example.

  Lost in the marvel of it, Joey never questioned when the wolf became Luke in her mind, she hardly noticed when a tall, dark figure entered the room and stood silently in the doorway.

  "Papa!" Claire's voice made her look up, and even in her bemusement she recognized Luke's cousin, Philippe. He regarded her gravely from across the room as Claire ran to him and demanded with words and gestures to be lifted into his arms.

  "Are you all right?" Joey was more startled by Philippe's accented English than by the bizarre conclusions she had finally reached. The man's green-gray eyes flickered uncertainly from her to Luke and back again; there was tension in him, as if he were concerned but had no desire to interfere.

  Interfere—with what? Joey hardly understood her own assumption, but when Luke moved out from under her hand and turned to face his cousin, the tension in the room grew palpable. She stared in fascination as, in absolute silence, wolf-Luke gazed up at man-Philippe, the hair rose along his spine, and a growl rumbled from deep within the impressive lupine body.

  Whatever wordless communication had passed between them, it was enough to make Philippe back away, Claire squirming in his arms; he paused only long enough to glance at Joey before vanishing as silently as he had come.

  There was almost no time to reflect on the little scene, for suddenly the wolf shape began to blur and shift again, and then Luke was standing in the center of the room, shaking himself like a wet dog. Wet wolf, Joey corrected herself, and the beginnings of an almost hysterical giggle threatened to break her nonsensical calm.

  The sound bubbled up as a choking cough that had Luke by the bedside in an instant, his hands almost as hot as live coals on her face. "Joey!" he said sharply. She stared into his eyes—the exact same eyes—and wondered why she had so completely failed to see it before.

  She reached up to take one of his hands, turning it over and over as if it alone could yield up the secret of what he was. Knowing she must look and sound incredibly foolish, Joey grinned at him and let the sudden tears spill over. "You could have warned me, you know."

  His exasperated cry was muffled as his lips pressed into the hollow of her throat. She tangled her fingers in his hair and saw in it the variegated strands of black and gray and white that she had never recognized for what they were.

  They rested there, each adjusting to the monumental changes between them, Luke with his head on her thigh while she gentled him with her hands as she had caressed the wolf he had been. For once in her life Joey didn't question. For once in her life she felt no need.

  The suspended time of magical acceptance could not last, Joey sighed as Luke straightened, his callused thumb hot on her skin as he brushed the loose hair from her eyes. "I'm sorry, Joey. I didn't know any other way to make you understand." There was genuine contrition in his tone, but also very real worry,;he searched her eyes for something he feared to see—condemnation? Loathing? Something caught in her throat as a new realization came to her, the first of a series of realizations that tumbled one upon another like dominoes.

  "Oh, Luke I was stupid not to have seen it before. It's just that they don't teach us much about werewolves where I come from."

  His rough chuckle almost managed to surprise her. "It's not an easy thing to learn, or accept—even for us." Abruptly his eyes grew serious again. "We don't choose this. It's in our blood, Joey. But we don't reject it either."

  Again he was studying her with such intensity that she knew he needed her answer "I
will admit," she said softly, "that it will take some getting used to. But"—she grabbed his hand and raised it to her lips—"what I'm most worried about is how I'm going to repay you for saving my life—or my virtue—several times."

  Luke's sudden grin was truly wolfish. "I'm sure we can think of a way." The warm caress of his words made her suddenly, achingly aware of the sleek curves and angles and planes of his bare chest so close to her cheek, and of what lay just out of sight beyond the side of the bed. The heat that flooded through her with the very graphic image had nothing to do with the natural warmth radiated by Luke's arms and hands against her skin.

  As if she had spoken her thoughts aloud, Luke released her and dipped briefly out of sight to collect his discarded clothing. She suppressed the flare of disappointment; hot on the heels of desire came a far more prosaic sensation, and suddenly she had to lean back into the pillows to resist a sudden wave of nausea.

  Luke reappeared, his shirt half-unbuttoned in a way that did much to turn her mind away from less pleasant considerations. He leaned over her, frowning. "Are you all right, Joey?"

  She managed a smile in response to his concern. "I think I need to rest now, Luke." Her eyes began to close in spite of every effort to keep them focused on him. "I'm sorry..."

  Luke muttered something savage in French under his breath "I shouldn't have forced you to—"

  Joey stopped him with her outstretched hand, fingers on his lips. He engulfed her hand in his own and held it against his mouth, the warm breath caressing her skin until it tingled. "I'm glad you did, Luke. And there's still a lot more I want to know. For instance, why... " Her words were lost in a yawn. This time it was his fingers that stroked her lips to silence her.

  "I'll tell you everything, Joey. There will never be any more secrets between us."

  "I'm glad," Joey murmured. Luke's hands caressed her, but in a way that subtly relaxed rather than aroused. She surrendered to it gratefully.

  "Luke." She heard the familiar, urgent voice from a great distance, but it jarred the peaceful lassitude just enough that her eyes edged open, the room blurred between her lashes. "For God's sake, Luke, what's been going on here? I've been hearing..."

  "She's sleeping" Luke's voice was a nearby rumble, she felt rather than saw him move away. "Whatever you have to say can be said outside, Allan."

  "What are you trying to do to her, Luke?" Collier's voice was a harsh whisper. "Instead of letting her recover, you show her things she can't be ready to deal with. Have you already told her the rest, Luke—about the position you've put her in? What you plan to demand from her, because you couldn't control—"

  The words cut off suddenly. "Out." The barely suppressed ferocity in the single syllable cracked like lightning. Then there were no more voices, no more words, and Joey was left with the fading sense of something not quite right. Something that had yet to be resolved.

  That was the last troubling thought that carried Joey into healing sleep.

  Bounding over broken ice left by the night's freezing rain, the wolves hunted. It had been a long time since Luke had run at the head of the village pack, and there was an exhilaration beyond human comprehension in being once again among his own kind.

  The communication that passed between them needed no inadequate human words. It pulsed on a far deeper level. Among real wolves, the language was simple and straightforward, among the loups-garous there were layers of meaning that surpassed the tongue of animals, or of ordinary men.

  Luke knew the hidden thoughts of his brethren, understood the subtle change of his position among them. Because of Joey. He had always held himself apart because he could not fulfill his rightful place as alpha, with a mate at his side, fathering children to keep the traditions and blood of his people strong. That task had gone to the others—but their blood was not as potent and pure as his. The weight of that responsibility, and the torment of their unfulfilled expectations, had kept him from the most essential part of what he was.

  Now, as he gloried in the primitive joy of sheer movement, of muscles bunching and stretching, of air so cold that it trailed in ragged plumes behind them, he exulted, too, in the knowledge of the woman who had changed everything. Joey could not know—not yet—what she meant to him, or to the village. To the people, the loups-garous, of Val Cache, she was hope for the future. A chance to keep the bloodlines whole. To him—Luke spun on one of his hind paws abruptly, and the others followed without once breaking stride—to him she was far more than even they could understand.

  It was easy to let himself imagine that she was there with the pack, running beside him, her pale fur would catch the sun like new-fallen snow, the delicately sculpted muzzle raised to taste the icy air. Her eyes—her eyes would be dark gold, overwhelming in the change, all deeper hues. She would be incredibly graceful, laughing in the way of his people, nipping at him and bounding ahead with her elegant white plume of tail trailing behind.

  Luke almost stumbled, and Philippe, a black shadow against the snow, brushed his shoulder. For a moment they ran in tandem, the tension of the previous day's confrontation was long gone, for it was not in their nature to hold grudges among themselves. It was not the way of the wolf-spirit, and there were far too few of them.

  Philippe had not forgotten his place in the pack as second to Luke, however, and after a while he dropped back as they slowed to a trot. The prey had escaped, as it so often did, and the pack would rest before seeking other game.

  They paused on a rocky slope, overlooking the untouched sweep of forest that hid Val Cache from Outside. Home. It had been a long time since Luke had thought of it as home, because he had been afraid to settle there with his heart lost to hope of finding a mate, or of finding peace. The others milled about him, nuzzling each other or panting as they rested, but Luke did not notice. His senses were tuned to one thing, one woman who meant more to him than life itself.

  He lifted his head in a deep, carrying howl of joy. The others joined it, one by one, and the chorus reached up to the sky until the entire valley rang with his triumph.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Hobbling around the small room on Allan Collier's arm, Joey lifted her head at the familiar sound. She smiled, and Collier paused to glance at her, he steered her to the nearest chair and helped her into it.

  For a moment Joey was content to sit quietly, out of breath and aching from the effort. She would have preferred to remain in bed, but the doctor had made it quite clear that only regular movement would keep her healthy and healing, warding off the danger of pneumonia brought on by her cracked ribs. There was still considerable discomfort in spite of the painkillers, but only time would mend that, the side effects of her concussion were almost gone.

  "You're coming along very nicely, Joey," Collier said, echoing her thoughts. The howling had stopped, and Joey turned her full attention to him, her smile still in place. "I must admit you're an extremely quick healer, and I've seen some very fast ones in my time."

  "I'm glad to hear it," Joey said with a grimace as a deep breath caught her unawares. "Just don't expect me to make a good case study for you, Allan, because I have no intention of ever, ever, letting this happen again."

  The doctor shifted, and Joey caught a glimpse of something in his face, something deeply uneasy beneath the mild amiability of his demeanor. "I doubt he would let it happen again," Collier murmured, almost too softly for her to hear.

  Joey remembered then what she had put out of her mind: the hushed conversation between Luke and the doctor that had given her the sense of something not quite right—between them, perhaps with her as well. She hardly knew what questions to ask, or if Collier could answer them, would he be willing to speak to her of subjects Luke seemed all too eager to avoid? There were still too many mysteries. Until now she had been content to set them aside. Until Collier's expression reminded her.

  She had just opened her mouth to speak when Collier said, "What has Luke told you, Joey?" His posture was relaxed, but she knew, without u
nderstanding her certainty, that it was all bluff.

  She sat up straighter in the carved wooden chair. "He told me what he is." She watched Collier close his eyes and nod slowly, without surprise.

  "That I know. It was all over the village the instant he howled." The pliant lips curved in a slight smile. "Rather melodramatic. I hadn't been sure—before—how much you understood. You didn't show any reaction that would tell me how much you knew, or remembered—and Luke's behavior was not quite reliable enough for me to guess how much he'd revealed."

  Reflecting on the lightning-quick changes in Luke's temper since they had come back to the village, Joey could only nod. "I do remember some of what happened. I saw him change before—but I thought it was all a fever dream, and later I put it down to my concussion. Until he did it again while I was wide awake and didn't have any excuses—except, perhaps, losing my sanity."

  "And that," Collier said softly, "is not in any doubt. It's all very real, I'm afraid. And I can only marvel that you can accept it so well."

  Joey sighed, resisting the urge to scratch at the neat row of stitches on her upper arm. "I don't really have much choice." A laugh bubbled up. "I've always considered myself a realist, a skeptic. But it's hard to deny something that happens right in front of you." She looked deeply into the doctor's eyes."And by the time I learned what Luke is I think it was too late to matter."

  She dropped her eyes from the concern in Collier's and twisted her hands together in her lap. The sound of his sigh filled the moment of quiet.

  "I see. I had hoped—I had wondered what was happening. Between the two of you." There was a constricted quality to Collier's voice that betrayed his discomfort. "I'll be honest, Joey. I didn't think it would be any different with you than with any of the others."

  Struck by his words, Joey looked up quickly. "I remember your warnings."