PRINCE OF WOLVES

by Susan Krinard

  Her inner vision was focused on Luke while Collier pulled the Land Rover out into the thin, sluggish traffic of Main Street and headed out of town. He was alive, she knew that much, as she knew her heart would have stopped when his did. The dull ache of his pain throbbed along her nerves, and she welcomed it. It meant he was fighting. He was alive, and she drove the message home again and again, down the arteries of the new-made link in time to the beat of her blood, praying he would hear it. Don't give up, Luke. I won't let you go.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Straightening up from his work, Allan Collier set aside the last of his instruments and stripped off his surgical gloves. Joey forced herself to rise, to leave Luke again where he lay on the folded blankets before the fire, and went to retrieve more hot water from the stove. Collier smiled up at her gratefully and wiped the instruments clean, sterilizing and packing them away carefully before blotting at his face with the cloth Joey provided.

  "He'll be all right, Joey." The words descended like small miracles. Joey closed her eyes and spent several seconds walking on air. "You got me to him in time. His body was trying to heal itself, but he was too weak. He couldn't have made it without you." Joey felt his hand brush her cheek. "It took great courage to do what you did, Joey."

  She opened her eyes slowly and stared at Luke, stitched up and bandaged, bullets extracted, his side rising and falling steadily. Her fingers stroked over the triangular space between his closed eyes. "I didn't want to do it, Allan," she whispered. "It was... " She closed her mouth on an inadequate description of something he could not hope to understand.

  He smiled sadly, and his hand found hers. "Don't try to explain it, Joey. Luke tried once, and I'm afraid he wasn't very successful, either." His fingers squeezed gently. "But don't belittle what you did. You're a very brave young woman."

  Freeing one hand to scrub at unshed tears, Joey managed a smile. "I don't feel very brave right now." She let the numbness of reaction settle over her. Soon enough the emptiness would fill with the new and terrible knowledge, harsher emotion rising to overwhelm relief and gratitude and joy. She wondered how she would be able to bear it.

  "How did you learn about it, Joey?" Collier asked gently. "Did Luke explain—"

  "What I was?" Joey finished, breaking free of the downward spiral of her thoughts. "Yes. He told me in Val Cache, or tried to. But I didn't remember that until much later."

  "It must have come as quite a shock," Collier murmured sympathetically. He shook his head with a sigh. "I had guessed that Luke would never have acted—never have behaved as he did with you if there hadn't been some very solid reason behind it. Reason!" Barking a laugh, he met her startled gaze. "Reason isn't quite the word."

  "No," Joey said softly. "Reason has nothing to do with it." There was a deep and awkward pause. "I didn't remember what he'd told me in Val Cache at first, but once Philippe came to visit and let it slip. At the time I didn't even question, it was as if I'd known it all along." The memory made her grimace. "I suppose I should be grateful for that. Luke didn't force me. He made it quite easy for me to accept it, and in the end, when I had no other choice, it simply happened."

  "And was it so terrible, Joey?" Collier asked. There was such wistful sadness in his voice that she summoned up a smile, remembering why, for him, it was no idle question.

  "Not terrible. Not that." Her vision darkened and blurred. "The terrible thing was waking up from a beautiful dream." Collier's eyes were locked on hers, intense with some unnamed emotion. "It was easy accepting what I was. It was easy living here with Luke, forgetting everything else. Too easy for me to guess anything was wrong." Slowly she closed her eyes against the black void that ached to swallow her. "Something happened to me after I changed, Allan," she whispered. "I learned more than how to be what he is. I woke up." She spaced the words deliberately, forcing them out. "When I knew he was safe and I'd done everything I could and the need was past, when I could think again, I realized—I found out—what he—what he..." The overpowering sense of loss engulfed her utterly, she dropped her head into her hands.

  "Oh, Joey," Collier sighed. She heard him shift beside he.r "I was afraid, when Luke told me you'd agreed to stay, when I spoke to you in Val Cache—I was afraid something wasn't right. Eventually, when it was too late, I guessed what it was."

  Joey dragged her head up to look at him. His face was as grim as she had ever seen it. For the first time she noticed the deep hollows under his mild blue eyes. "You see, Joey, I've known Luke a very long time. I know what he fears, and what he's capable of. I tried to warn him. I didn't want to see either of you get hurt, but I failed to recognize what was coming."

  Understanding came to Joey through a thick fog of confusion. "You know," she said in amazement.

  "I know." A wry smile twisted his mobile mouth. "I know because it happened to me. And I should have seen it, been prepared for it." His eyes were suddenly very bright. "I should have known Luke was not rational in this—where you are concerned."

  "What," Joey said slowly, "did he do to you?" She closed her eyes again, afraid to hear him confirm what she had realized in those terrible moments when her thoughts had cleared and she had known Luke was safe. When her awakened mind and Luke's weakness had broken the bonds of his will.

  "He used his 'influence' on me. That's the phrase we coined for it, anyway." His voice was dry, almost pedantic. "He used to experiment with it as a boy, once he'd learned to change. When I found out about it, I tried to explain that it wasn't right—that his gifts should not be so misused. Eventually he found that out for himself, the hard way." Joey opened her eyes to see the lines of new pain etched into his weathered features. "I never really believed he'd used it on me. But then again, I never believed he'd find you, either."

  "Influence." Joey mouthed the word almost silently, hardly hearing his final remark. "He made you forget?"

  "It's nothing so simple as forgetting," Collier said heavily. "I don't know the limits of what he can do. I pray I never find out. But in my case, he simply didn't want me to reveal your whereabouts to anyone; as it happens, I didn't have any relatives to contact, but he knew I had doubts—about too many things. He arranged it so that any time I thought of you, my mind simply slid away from the thought, like oil on water. The image he put in my mind, when I thought of you, told me you where you should be, and if I managed to get beyond that image, I found myself believing that you'd been safely shipped off to the hospital and then back home. I never felt any need to speak to anyone about it." He blinked slowly. "Maggie asked me about you, once or twice. Each time I gave her some glib excuse without even realizing it."

  Swallowing hard, Joey managed to keep her voice remarkably even. "Yes. I think I understand." She drew in a deep breath and deliberately turned her back on Luke's sleeping form. "He must have found it pretty easy to do the same thing to me. I didn't even know it was possible. He walked right into my mind and took over."

  Collier gazed at her until she felt compelled to meet his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Joey. I wish I'd had the sense to warn you when I first realized—when it became clear how irrational Luke was—but I didn't feel it was my right.

  "You didn't know, Allan. Neither one of us was a match for him, were we?" The bitterness of her own words almost penetrated the depths of her despair. "He made me not care about anything but the two of us in our own perfect little world. The past, the future—none of it seemed important." Tears spilled over. "I thought I was happy. I thought it was real. I believed..."

  She reached blindly for Collier's hand, and he took hers between his palms. His kindly face was a mask of reflected pain. "It's not that simple, Joey. I wish I knew how to explain." Joey watched him search for words, his eyes dropping to Luke's still form with unutterable sadness. "There are many things even I don't know about Luke, and what he is. Even among his own people he's different. But I know"—his voice took on greater urgency as he looked back at her—"I do know he wouldn't hurt you, Joey, even in this."

&
nbsp; "Even," she demanded hoarsely, "after what he did to you? Invaded your mind, took away your will?"

  With a deep, shuddering breath, Collier nodded. "Even so. There is something you must understand, Joey. Whatever Luke did—whatever he felt driven to do—he couldn't steal your spirit or your intelligence. He couldn't give you what you didn't have within you. He couldn't force you to care, or to risk your sanity, perhaps even your life, to save his."

  "Then how do I know what was real and what he did to me?" she cried, giving way to despair. "How can I possibly find the line between what I am and what he made me become?" The agony spilled over, and she let herself be pulled into Collier's embrace.

  He was silent for a long moment. "There is only one answer to that question, Joey. Look within your heart." He barked a quiet laugh against her ear. "I know it's a terrible old cliché, but it's the only solution I've found when the world comes down around your ears." He pushed her away from him gently, tilting her chin up with his hand. "You have the strength, Joey, to discover your heart's truth. Take the time to find it. Give yourself that chance." Turning away before she could gather an answer, he busied himself with his bag, and his final words were little more than a whisper. "Give him that chance."

  Joey stared blankly at his back. A chance. She turned her head and reached out to rest her palm on Luke's side, concentrating on the varied textures of his fur as it slid through her fingers; he stirred in his sleep and whimpered, a soft, sad sound dredged up from a troubling dream. Perhaps he had already guessed. She stroked him absently and wished, against all logic, that she might have gone on dreaming.

  "Are you going to be all right, Joey?" Collier knelt beside her with a soft groan. "I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone."

  She smiled weary reassurance "I have the rifle, and Luke taught me how to run things around here. There's plenty of food, everything I need."

  Collier touched her hand "Do you want to come back with me?"

  "I can't." It was becoming easier to speak as if nothing at all were wrong. "I can't leave him here alone. " Her hand clenched in Luke's fur.

  "Yes," the doctor acknowledged with a sigh. "I greatly fear that Luke won't be up to changing back for several days—not until his body has had a chance to deal with his injuries. It might look a little strange for me to bring a wolf back to the office." He lifted one gray brow, and Joey felt herself returning his gentle grin.

  Turning her hand to clasp his, Joey shook her head. "I suppose it's going to be difficult enough trying to explain a half-hysterical naked woman showing up on your doorstep in broad daylight." Heat rose to her face. "I wonder how many of them recognized me?"

  "Don't give it any thought, Joey," Collier said gently, rising to his feet. Joey stood with him, still grasping his hand. "I hustled you into the office right away, and you'll find that I am exceptionally good at plausible explanations." He coughed dryly. "I've had a great deal of practice. And, incidentally"—his mouth straightened into a grim line—"I'll see that a report gets made to the authorities about trespassers and illegal hunting. It may not do any good, but my word is still worth something. When Luke's recovered, he may want to take stronger action."

  Joey shook her head at the image of the kind of action Luke would most likely wish to take. It gave her a kind of grim satisfaction. Collier caught her look and flashed a wry, understanding smile.

  As he turned for the door, Joey let go of his hand and hugged him hard, kissing his cheek. " Thanks," she whispered. "I owe you so much..."

  "No talk of owing, Joey," he said, pulling away to touch her chin. His eyes grew serious. "If you want to repay me, there is only one thing I ask of you. When the time comes to decide about your future, about what you are and what you want to be, follow this." He laid his hand over his heart. "Too much of this"—his finger lifted to his temple—"is not necessarily the way to understanding. Sometimes the true path to happiness doesn't follow the course of logic."

  Joey dropped her eyes. "Sometimes it hurts too much," she whispered. "But I'll try."

  "That's all I ask." He bent down to kiss her forehead and left her in the doorway where she watched him bring his truck to reluctant, sputtering life. He stopped once to wave, and Joey felt her throat tighten.

  "Allan," she called hoarsely, "tell Maggie—tell her..."

  "I will," he called back over the rumble of the engine. "Take care, Joey."

  The Land Rover's door snapped shut. Without quite seeing, Joey watched the vehicle bounce through the clearing and disappear among the trees. The utter loneliness welled up, flooding her soul and spilling from her eyes. She leaned her forehead against the doorframe and trembled there. "It hurts," she said softly. "God, how it hurts."

  Chapter Twenty

  Just as Collier had predicted, Luke spent the next several days in wolf form, his body slowly mending, while Joey went mechanically through the motions of keeping the cabin warm, cooking meals, caring for Luke in a state of bleak and crushing emptiness. Luke was there and not there: the first day he slept through, twitching in the throes of dreams, the second he raised his head and spoke to her with his eyes, a mute question she did not know how to answer.

  On the third day he staggered out into the snow and returned, limping, to lie panting before the fire, gazing and gazing at her until she turned away in despair. She did not want to look too deeply, fearing the things she might see her own terrible vulnerability, the ignorant helplessness he had exploited.

  In the cold, lonely days she went over it a hundred times in her mind—what she would say to him, how she would hurt him as he had hurt her. Used her. When he looked at her with his wolf's eyes, she wanted to scream out her rage and loss and sense of betrayal and beat him down with it, knowing he would be helpless to respond, helpless to act.

  But in the nights, she dreamed. She dreamed of Luke's touch and his slow-waking smile, the way his caresses made her burn. In the dreams it was always right at first, as it had been after Val Cache, a never-ending, glorious present without the burden of past and future. And then the dreams would change, and she would see his eyes and remember the moment when he had taken her mind as he had taken her body. You won't leave me, Joey. His voice grated, harsh and inhuman, over and over. His eyes dragged her down and ripped her away from the moorings of all she had known, all she had thought was real. Stole her away from herself, so that all she had left to hold on to was Luke.

  "Luke!" She flailed out with her hands to push him away, and they slapped against flesh, solid contact that woke her from the dream with a start. He was warm, hard, human under her skin as she opened her eyes. The length of him was stretched out beside her on the sofa where she had slept each night, and he was most certainly no dream. Relief clouded her vision as she breathed him in and felt him with every inch of her body.

  "Joelle," he said softly. She felt his hand come up to stroke her cheek and closed her eyes tightly against the gentle invasion of his gaze. "It was only a dream, Joey."

  A shudder racked her, his gentle words a catalyst that shattered the brief and fragile moment of happiness. "Yes. Only a dream." She pushed against him, but he held her tightly, pulling her up as he shifted, stirring her hair with his warm breath.

  "Joelle," he said again, caressing her name. "You feel so good." His hands laced through her hair, and he rubbed the strands of it against his face. "I thought I'd lost you."

  Joey's heart lurched. "Lost me!" she said in a distant, tiny voice. Did he understand, truly, what he had done and what she had finally realized?

  "I thought I was dead," he murmured into her hair. "I would have been." He pulled his face away and caught hers between his hands, making her look up at him. "My brave Joey You saved my life." Words seemed to fail him, Joey forced herself to meet his eyes and saw the suspicious brightness there. "Your courage astounds me."

  She tried to shake her head, but he held her in his big hands and stroked the contours of her face with his fingers as if seeing it, feeling it, for the first time. H
is hard face was relaxed and vulnerable and alive, baring his need to her. Impossible to hate, impossible not to love. She tried to stop the trembling that betrayed her, weakened her resolve, the conflict started the useless tears yet again, and he bent down to catch them on his tongue.

  It was too much. The wave broke over her and engulfed her utterly, and she lifted her mouth to his and took his kiss as hungrily as he offered it. "You're alive," she whispered against his hard, demanding lips.

  The simple statement seemed to release all the tears at once. She was sobbing even as he kissed her mouth, her chin, her cheeks, her neck, he crushed her to him as if he would pull her inside himself. "You saved me, Joey," he breathed. "You saved me."

  Emotion sparked between them, an electric current that shattered the icy walls about Joey's heart. She felt Luke—she felt him, felt with him, knew his joy and his overwhelming need for her. There were suddenly no barriers at all, their bodies nothing but husks to be cast aside. This was what she had known before when she had felt his pain, now it was blinding joy and wholeness so bright that it lit all the dark places of despair.

  Joey leaned into Luke and drew in a deep breath as they came down to earth again. The brightness faded, but it left its pattern behind her eyelids as if she had stared into the sun. The bond between them was still there. Inevitable, inexplicable, undeniable. She tucked her head under his chin and rested her hands on his chest as she traced the path of it in the matched rhythm of their heartbeats.

  After a moment Luke set her back and caught her hands, kissing them one by one, such undisguised wonder in his face that Joey nearly lost herself in his eyes. She blinked fast and hard.

  "Are you real, Joey?" Luke whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand. "Do you actually exist?" He accepted her evasion when she turned her face aside and pressed it into his shoulder. His arms closed around her again.