Legendary Shifter

by Barbara J. Hancock

  “The kitchen is the last living place in Bronwal. You can always be sure of finding someone here,” Romanov said.

  Why would he offer her comfort if he was determined she should go away?

  She’d sworn to keep her distance from her host, but Elena couldn’t resist the bread or the warmth of the fire. She tried to tell herself there was nothing else drawing her near him. Her hands were like ice from the chilled corridors and stairways. She stepped forward and perched on the stool. The scent of the bread and cheese caused her to nearly swoon, and her mouth watered as she used a knife to dip up and spread the thick, churned butter. It flaked in rich chunks beneath the knife’s blade, as only real butter would do.

  “I was going to bring you a tray,” Patrice mumbled as she continued to knead and roll and punch the springy dough.

  “Actually, I was,” Romanov said.

  He reached for a piece of bread from her plate and lifted it to his mouth. He took a bite as she bit into the piece she’d buttered. They both chewed slowly. As the butter and bread dissolved in Elena’s mouth, she was light-headed with relief. Better that she’d come to the crowded kitchen than to have Romanov come to her room alone. But her relief was short-lived because a smudge of butter from the bread had smeared on Romanov’s lower lip. Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t tear her focus away. She watched the butter as he chewed. She stared, transfixed, as he swallowed and licked his lips clean. His enjoyment of the fresh bread was evident. His pleasure caused her to tighten and tingle, then liquefy in places best ignored in his presence. She had to force herself to swallow past the sudden paralysis in her jaw and throat as tingling desire rose up, refusing to be ignored.

  It was torture to be physically attracted to the man who was standing in the way of her desperate goal. She’d never allowed sensual distractions in her life, even when her situation hadn’t been life or death. But the chemistry that assailed her whenever she was around Romanov didn’t ask for permission. In fact, it seemed to be heightened by her desperation.

  How could he ignore her predicament when he obviously couldn’t ignore her?

  His large body leaned against the tall table closer to her than it had been before. She was certain he had imperceptibly shifted while she’d been focused on his lips. When she forced her gaze up from his mouth to meet his eyes, his intensity caused her breath to catch. His eyelids lazily hooded the gleam of his irises, but his interest was anything but lazy. Although his posture was relaxed, his body was taut. He radiated a heat that competed with the oven. He was gauging her reactions. He was tuned in to her response. He’d noticed her quickened breath and her focus on the mere flick of his tongue. And judging from the intensity of his interest he liked the way she had instantly kindled from such a simple, innocent move.

  The liquid in her belly and lower seemed to bubble in response. She’d been famished for food, but now she was hungry for whatever his dark green eyes seemed to promise as they looked into hers.

  “You say you want me to go away before the Volkhvy Gathering, but then you offer me warmth and comfort. The snow is piled high outside, but it’s no longer falling,” Elena said. She couldn’t indulge the heat between them with flirtation or niceties. She needed his help to find the alpha wolf. She didn’t need this desire that flared between them. Kisses wouldn’t save her, even though her body lied and tried to tell her they would.

  “We move toward oblivion with every passing second,” Romanov said. “I can offer you a meal before you have to leave.” He didn’t back away. In fact, he reached to toy with strands of hair that had fallen free of the messy bun she had hastily created with her heavy blond waves before coming downstairs. Again, it seemed as if he tortured himself. His body was tense. Did he want to plunge his fingers into her hair and pull her into his arms? His powerful hand shook. He would rather devour than toy. That thought did nothing to help her ignore the heat that had radiated out from her bubbling stomach to claim her entire body. His hand might shake, but its trembles were contagious. Her whole being quaked. Her breath came quick through dry lips. And she held herself back with only the most determined control.

  “Your oblivion will not save me. I have to stay here and fight. There’s no escape but the one I make,” Elena said. “I can’t run away. Ultimately Grigori is going to find me. I need the alpha to fight by my side.”

  “And what if the alpha devours you instead? What then?” Romanov asked.

  Suddenly, the kitchen was quiet. All the servants had disappeared. The only movement was the flickering flames in the fireplace and abandoned dough rising on the table beside them. And the rise and fall of their chests as they both breathed in and out. Hers was rapid. His was slow and deliberate. She watched as his broad chest expanded and then fell as air exhaled through his lips. Was it a calming meditation? Or was he inhaling the mint fragrance he released as he continued to gently play with her hair?

  The slight movement of his hand turned out to have purpose and consequences. Her hasty bun was loosened. Little by little, he freed her hair from its confinement until it tumbled down over her shoulders. She watched him as the waves came free. His eyes darkened. His lids lowered. And she still kept herself still beneath his touch. Even when he slowly threaded his fingers into the loosened waves to cup the side of her head, she didn’t move beyond her shaky breaths and her trembling body.

  “You ask for more than it’s in my power to give you. I can’t control the alpha wolf. I can’t call him to fight by your side. I can only hold Bronwal. Do you understand? This place and all its people. Their ultimate fate is my responsibility,” Romanov said. But his hand tightened so that he held her even as he spoke of holding his people’s cursed universe on his shoulders, alone.

  “Then I have to hope the alpha wolf will choose to help me of his own accord. Without your call. Without your permission. Lev wanted to tear me apart for disturbing the baby’s room. But Soren ran for help. He could have looked away. He could have left me to die. He didn’t. There’s a champion deep inside of him still. I have to believe the alpha wolf will be the same,” Elena said.

  “The alpha hasn’t been a champion in a very long time. He’s nothing but an abandoned savage. I’m afraid he’ll turn his savagery on the world if he’s called. And, unlike Lev, there’s no one stronger to remind him of what he used to be,” Romanov said.

  Elena’s spine stiffened. She drew her body back from the man who heated her bones and chilled her heart. Surprisingly, in spite of his tension and his powerful grip, he eased his fingers to let her go. She left the stool to step back from the table and from Romanov’s heat. Her leg hurt. Her body was exhausted from lack of sleep and from her battle with the elements. But she wasn’t weak. She never had been. Not even in her nightmares when she was reduced to frantic, fluttering wings.

  “I’m small, but I’m stronger than you know. I will remind him,” Elena said.

  Romanov’s hand had fallen to his side. He flexed his fingers open and closed as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d let her go.

  “The alpha could easily crush you with only one bite,” Romanov said. “He’s an enchanted monster driven nearly mad by a relentless curse.” He stepped after her suddenly, and she was too startled to back away. He reached for her again before she could widen the gap between them. His body was only inches away. His hands clasped her shoulders and pulled her even closer, until their bodies touched in a full-length press that shocked every cell from her head to her toes. “You fear being captured by the witchblood prince, but you should fear death.”

  “You endure a fate worse than death. And yet it isn’t the Ether that you fear. It’s the materialization. What new loss will each one bring? Loved ones? Your own faculties? The idea that the Dark Volkhvy will claim what you’ve defended all this time. I don’t fear the alpha wolf’s teeth because my future with Grigori will eat away at me little by little. I prefer death to that.”

  Romanov�
�s chin rose as if he’d been slapped by her words. But he didn’t let her go. If anything, his hands tightened on her shoulders. Her breathing was shallow and quick, yet his scent enveloped her along with his heat. He’d been in the kitchen long enough that the scent of fresh baked bread clung to his skin, but it was the scent of the mountain that rose from his hair. It was a wild and snowy scent with the slightest hint of evergreen.

  “You’re wrong. It’s the freedom of oblivion that I most fear. Because its call is more seductive than any I’ve ever experienced,” he said. “Until now.”

  She wasn’t prepared for his hands to slide from her shoulders to her back. Instinctively, she raised her hands to brace against his chest, but somehow she ended up with fistfuls of his faded linen shirt in her hands. Its lacings hung loosened and open at the neck, and when he pulled her closer she ended up staring at the pulse that throbbed at the base of his throat.

  The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the heat that radiated from his body to hers. His hands burned on the small of her back and when he spread his fingers to actually hold her waist, the burn traveled to all her intimate places. Suddenly, Grigori was the last thing on her mind. Her nightmares were replaced by fantasies.

  If she kissed the pulse of his jugular, it would be a mistake, but it would be one she chose to make.

  The thought was all she needed to urge her forward. She went up on her toes. She leaned. She captured his hot, salty skin between her lips. She meant the taste to be a slight indulgence, an exercise in free will. But his fierce groan, the jerk of his entire body in response and the sudden desperate clasp of his hands caused her to open her mouth to taste him more fully and bathe his pounding pulse with a flick of her tongue.

  “My God, Elena,” Romanov said. His hands rose from her waist to her face, but he didn’t push her away. He pressed her closer, groaning as she responded with a nip of her teeth and suction. His skin was so hot. His pulse so strong. His passionate sounds rumbled deep in his chest and vibrated against her breasts. He was wild winter wilderness, but he melted for her. He stood alone, but she held him and pleasured him and he wasn’t alone anymore.

  “You don’t want to die. You want to live,” Elena murmured against his throat.

  “I crave respite,” Romanov countered. His hands stopped her kisses, but he didn’t push her far away. With the slightest pressure of his palms on each side of her head, he only made enough distance between them so that he could look down at her face. She opened her eyes. Her body was languid with desire. It pulsed in time with the heartbeat she’d tasted.

  “That’s not what you crave,” Elena said. “You don’t want to disappear into the Ether. You want to feel again. You want to connect.”

  “How can I resist? You awaken me. You refuse to keep the door locked against me,” Romanov said.

  “I won’t be caged. I’d rather face my fears than hide from them,” she replied.

  “Then you admit you fear me?” he asked. His whole body stilled as if he braced for her answer.

  “I think you want me to fear you. If I’m afraid, if I run away, then you can be as numb as you have to be to stay standing,” Elena said. “But it isn’t only my kisses that wake you. It’s my cause.”

  “I have all the cause I’ll ever need to stay standing, Elena Pavlova. I stand for my family. Not the Light Volkhvy. I don’t stand against the Dark. I stand against the Ether that has eaten everyone I’ve ever loved,” Romanov said. It was a hoarse confession. One that burned her eyes. “I’m not a champion. I’m a survivor. And there’s a hungry wolf at my door. I fear him. As should you.”

  She drew in a startled breath when he swooped to claim her mouth, but her breath wasn’t deep or long enough to keep her from going light-headed when his lips pressed against hers. This time he chose to kiss her. Not to relieve the torture but to intensify it. He groaned as his tongue found hers and the vibration traveled with velvet licks to the V between her legs.

  Elena let go of his shirt and slid her arms up, way up, and around his neck. She appreciated his height and breadth even as she held on for dear life. Her head was light. Her knees soft. But his body was solid and hard against her. There was no interruption this time. He explored the depths of her mouth fully with practiced ease that nevertheless caused his body to shudder against hers with the pleasure he found.

  His lips were gentle and sensual even though they were firm, moving hungrily to devour her every gasp. His tongue was flavored with honey and wine. The stubble on his cheek and jaw was pleasantly rough against her skin.

  He held her face in place for his kiss for a long time, but when he dropped his hands to lift her shirt and find her skin she cried out into his mouth at the heightened sensation of his warrior’s calloused fingers on her bare midriff.

  Her cries caused him to pause, but only for a second, as if he caught himself waiting for her permission or denial, and then pressed on. She whimpered when his fingers dipped into the waistband of her pants and this time he didn’t slow or stop. He jerked her forward and she found herself straddling his bent knee. He pressed her against his leg and she whimpered again because the pleasurable pressure and friction took her by surprise.

  She rocked her hips to increase it and he groaned, but he also helped her move with his powerful hands cupped around her bottom. The thrusting of his tongue matched the rhythm of her hips and she felt the rise of his erection beneath his leather pants against her right thigh.

  He called out her name when she reached for him to press and measure and pet the hard length of him through the leather. His heat and size and obvious pleasure caused her to rock harder against the leg she rode, and suddenly his head fell back and their lips parted. She looked down at his face and realized he had lifted her up and braced his hips against the table until she was above him.

  Romanov’s eyes were slits. His lips were swollen. His hair was a wild tumble around his face and shoulders. He looked passionate, disheveled and very touched. She continued to rub his hard shaft and move her hips and he watched her face as the ultimate pleasure finally claimed her. She cried out as she came. Her legs clenched around his muscular thigh. And his hands tightened on her, pulling her as close as she could get against him as she pulsed with the orgasm achieved while they were both still clothed and standing in the kitchen.

  She collapsed against his broad chest and he held her there, not speaking, as time passed. The fire crackled. The dough hardened, neglected and forgotten. Distant sounds finally penetrated her consciousness once more.

  “A long time ago I feared losing dance because it was all I had. I didn’t know what else I would do once I couldn’t dance anymore. But now I only fear Grigori. Because I’ll find my way given the chance. My purpose is in me. I only have to remain free to find it,” Elena said softly. While she spoke, she thought about the resolve in the woman’s face on the tapestry. Her expression echoed an untapped feeling in Elena’s heart. Something called to her. The discipline and dedication she’d learned in service to dance had only been preparation. There was something beckoning to her on the horizon that nearly overshadowed the dread of Grigori that permeated her past.

  “Where is the sapphire sword and how do you protect it when it’s not with you?” she asked. She also wondered what had become of the ruby and emerald swords, but she didn’t want to talk about the loved ones he’d lost.

  Romanov straightened and placed her limp body on the stool nearby. Even with the fire, she felt chilled as he moved away. This had been another mistake she would make all over again if she had the chance. But she was fairly certain Romanov wouldn’t. His brow was furrowed and his fists had clenched as soon as he’d placed her to the side.

  “If you call the black wolf, you’ll face something darker and hungrier than your witchblood prince.” Romanov stood several feet away from her. He ignored her question about the sapphire sword. He looked tall and powerful even in a simple line
n shirt that had come partially undone and scuffed leather pants. He wore no armor or furs now. He wasn’t armed. His strength was all in his honed muscles and large frame. Still, the determined set to his jaw and the planted placement of his riding boots would cause his stance to be intimidating to any adversary. Yet as he spoke of the wolf, his eyes were haunted, shadowed by real trepidation.

  His concern was contagious. Elena’s heartbeat quickened and her post-orgasm languor fled. Her body stiffened and she rose from the stool to face him.

  “I’m not afraid of the dark,” she said.

  It was true. She wasn’t afraid of darkness. Only of being trapped. Only of having her free will taken away.

  But she wasn’t blind. She could see that Romanov was genuinely afraid for her, and that knowledge caused gooseflesh to rise on her skin.

  “Is there no chance, then, that the alpha wolf will choose to help me rather than hurt me?” she asked.

  “He may have no choice. Like Lev, he may have been driven mad by his time in the Ether. He might no longer be a rational creature. He was always a beast that was almost impossible to control,” Romanov said. She watched his fists clench and unclench as he spoke. With his mussed hair and fire-lit eyes, he looked nearly mad himself.

  But his lips were still swollen from her kisses and her mouth still tingled pleasantly with remembered sensation of the passion they’d shared.

  “You don’t want me to summon the black wolf, but there are other reasons you want me to stay in the tower,” Elena said. She stepped lightly toward him. He didn’t back away. Because there was nowhere to go or because he secretly wanted her closer? Liked her closer? Would take her as close as possible if her quest for the wolf wasn’t standing in their way?

  “Every day you spend in Bronwal is potentially deadly. You court disaster every time you leave the tower,” Romanov said.