Legendary Shifter

by Barbara J. Hancock

  “Do I court disaster by leaving the tower or by searching for the alpha wolf and finding you instead?” Elena said. She knew the answer. They had kissed. She’d experienced an earth-shattering orgasm. And yet there was so much more that could happen between them. It would be a disaster to allow the attraction between them to take them where it wanted to go. But she would choose to follow it if she could because it would be a glorious disaster she had chosen for herself after years of following a course set by others.

  She’d narrowed the gap between them. He could have turned away to leave the room. He hadn’t. He had watched and waited as she approached. His eyes were bright and his wild hair made her fingers twitch. But he was also simmering with a rising emotion that tasted like anger in the air. There were clouds darkening his expression, and his body appeared so tense and tight that his tendons might snap if he deigned to move an inch.

  Elena, the deceptively delicate swan who was made of mercilessly trained muscle and bone rather than feathers, continued bravely until her toes stopped inches from his. She tilted her chin to meet his thunderous gaze.

  “I’m lost. I can’t be found,” Romanov said. “You think you have found me instead of the wolf you seek, but you’ve found nothing. No one. A castle full of ghosts.”

  “It wasn’t a ghost that pleasured my body moments ago,” Elena said. She didn’t reach for him. She wouldn’t force herself on him. But there was more to his resistance than fear for her safety. He protected Bronwal, but he also protected himself. He’d lost too much to care again.

  Her body trembled at his nearness. She vibrated with need. His body must do the same. That’s why he held himself so still and tight. Because the pull between them was elemental and fierce.

  “We’re snowed in. Trapped together. But the Volkhvy Gathering comes closer every day,” Romanov said.

  “I will find the alpha wolf before the Gathering,” Elena warned him. “And I will either be devoured or I will gain his trust.”

  “Trust moldered to dust in this place many years ago,” Romanov replied. “Lev and Soren guard the last blade. They will sound the alarm if Dark Volkhvy appear. The other blades disappeared into the Ether and never returned. It’s best you forget they ever existed. In time, the sapphire blade will disappear, as well.”

  Romanov finally broke away from the invisible magnetism that seemed to hold them together. He walked around her to the counter, picked up the remainder of a loaf of bread, then strode out the door without another word. Elena more slowly and thoughtfully followed suit. The bread was cooled, but still delicious, and she needed to keep herself fueled.

  Imaging the sapphire blade winking out of existence caused her insides to hollow in spite of the bread she consumed. She wasn’t sure why. But she had an instinct that the blade must remain in Bronwal in order for Romanov to survive. The blade was a part of the puzzle here. One she was determined to solve. One she was compelled to solve the same way she’d been compelled by the legends from the time she’d first heard her grandmother’s tales.

  Maybe the blade could help her against Grigori whether or not she was able to summon the alpha wolf.

  Lev and Soren guard the last blade.

  The last bite of bread she chewed was hard to swallow past the sudden lump of fear that closed her throat. She would have to face the red wolf...and the white in order to approach the sapphire sword again. And she wouldn’t be able to stay away. Suddenly, she was certain that all her questions would be answered if she could hold the sapphire sword one more time.

  For the few seconds she’d held the blade in her hands, she’d felt something in the cool wash of adrenaline that had flooded her veins. She’d heard something in her pounding heart. Then she’d fallen backward and the blade had slipped from her fingers and the feeling was gone.

  But the memory of it remained.

  And she’d seen the echo of it in the eyes of the woman on the tapestry in the baby’s room.

  * * *

  He had failed to resist their connection. In fact, he’d done the opposite. He’d gloried in her passion. He’d soaked up every noise, every reaction—from the salty perspiration on her upper lip to the powerful thrust of her petite hips. He’d helped her achieve a shuddering climax, and the surprisingly supple bottom he’d kneaded while she clenched and came had almost sent him over the edge himself. Not to mention the heat of her against his leg and the curiosity of her fingers as she’d measured him through his pants.

  It had been heaven and hell.

  Heaven because her taste and touch had enflamed him faster and hotter than anyone before. Hell because he’d wanted to tear off her clothes and taste more than her lips. He’d wanted to feel her heat intimately with nothing in the way. He still did. His imagination had been given more fuel to work with and it had already been torturing him, day and night.

  He was hard and ready. His mind filled with images of her spread beneath him. She would open. She would be slick with passion. She’d already shown him her hunger. He wanted to stoke her pleasure higher than he’d been able to with only the pressure of his thigh. He wanted to play her with his hand. He wanted to lick and tease until she begged him to join with her.

  He’d watched her orgasm, but he’d never seen her bare breasts.

  With her blond hair, blue eyes and porcelain skin, he could picture rosy nipples to match her rosy lips. He ached to see and suckle them. He was in a frenzy to explore for other rosy treasures, as well.

  He went for the practice field. There was nothing else he could do.

  Nothing short of a full-on shift would scare her in the face of her determination, but how could he loose the wolf when what he wanted most was to be a man in her arms? How could he purposefully frighten a woman who was obviously drawn to the sapphire blade?

  Because, in the end, he would have no choice. She had to leave for the good of Bronwal and for her own good. He couldn’t allow her to bond with the blade. He’d have to risk a shift to scare her away. She thought she wanted to find the black wolf, but once she saw him she would change her mind.

  The enchanted monster inside of his soul howled with glee at the idea of freedom. He hadn’t run beneath the light of the moon on four massive paws in decades. Since long before he’d seen the last glimpse of Soren’s human face. His desire for Elena wasn’t helping. It only made him feel more desperate to make her leave before he lost control. If she didn’t want him in return, he could more easily ignore his need to claim her. But her obvious hunger for his touch shook him to the core.

  Only he could guarantee that she made the right decision. She couldn’t be allowed near the sword again. Of that, he was certain. Beyond that, if marauding Volkhvy and Lev weren’t enough to force her away, he would have to take matters into his own hands.

  Elena had come to Bronwal to seek help from the alpha wolf. But it was the alpha howling inside of his chest that had to frighten her away.

  Chapter 8

  Elena knew it was crazy. She should make sure to stay as far away from Lev as possible. It was madness to go looking for the red and white wolves in order to find the sapphire sword. The power in the gem wasn’t hers to tap. It would probably be no more useful than an ordinary blade against Grigori. But even though logic told her it was silly to seek out the sword, her heart told her otherwise. When she’d been in the courtyard with the blade, she’d felt as if she’d found everything she’d been looking for, even though the black wolf hadn’t been there.

  She still hoped to find the alpha wolf. She hoped he would become her champion against the Dark Volkhvy who stalked her. But she couldn’t stop thinking about the woman in the tapestry. She’d held the ruby sword as if she needed no other champion but herself.

  It was only an hour before sunset. The castle was darkening by the second. She wasn’t sure where Romanov had gone after their time in the kitchen. She had let him walk away. His resistance ma
de her passionate capitulation more embarrassing. She had held nothing back in her response to his touch. She had been decadent in the way she had ridden his powerful thigh to take her pleasure.

  What was worse, she still wanted more.

  The idea of his bare, hot skin between her naked legs caused her breath to hitch and her sensual abandon to seem like a permanent result of her time here in Bronwal. God, he was so powerful and he maintained such control. Even while she was crying out with release, he was watching and holding and helping her reach the peak. He had denied himself surcease. And it had tortured her because she wanted him to give in to the pleasure she could give him, as well.

  Her imagination could well envision his powerful body completely naked and shuddering beneath her touch. She had tasted the skin of his neck. She wanted to taste more. She wanted to trace every inch of him with her tongue and watch as he lost all control.

  For her.

  But what frightened her most was that part of her desire was hinged on the idea of waking him and bringing him back to life. He so obviously didn’t want to wake. He was determined to resist the attraction between them and she was bound for disappointment.

  She’d gone back to her room for the daggers she’d taken from the practice field. They were tucked in the back pockets of her jeans. She couldn’t imagine using them, but she would if she had to. Against the white wolf or against one of the shuffling souls in the dark hallways of the castle, if either tried to harm her. She would defend herself. Elena reached to reassure herself that the hilts were within easy reach again and again. The daggers reassured her, but they didn’t call to her in the same way that the sapphire blade called.

  More than her fight against Grigori had brought her here. Hadn’t she always been fascinated with the Romanov legend? She’d begged for the stories again and again. She’d been obsessed with the book long before she’d known she was in danger.

  The key to the tower room hung around the chain on her neck. There was a hideaway available to her. She could duck her head in the sand. She could lock herself away. But that would solve nothing. It would be a temporary redoubt. Nothing more. She had to move. She had to strive for answers.

  She couldn’t ignore the sword. It called to her with a subtle song. One of enchantment, but also one of discipline and determination. She came to the main hall where Romanov had first carried her. This time the massive fireplace was lit. Shadows danced on the walls cast by the leaping flames.

  The woman in the tapestry had been a warrior, but Elena had recognized the expression on her face and the passion in her eyes. She’d had the face of a prima ballerina. Her own face carried that look. She’d seen it reflected in the other dancers in her troupe. What were they if not warriors? They were graceful, but hardened. They faced a battle against fatigue and weakness and age every day. They fought against every soft, human failing and mercilessly trained it away.

  The white wolf rose to his feet when she came into the room. His movement drew her eyes from the shadows on the wall. The red wolf was there, as well. He was already standing. Beside him, the sapphire blade rested across the arms of a throne. A larger throne stood beside it. They were carved from some massive, dark wood streaked even darker with generations of soot. She hadn’t noticed the thrones when the hall had been unlit by firelight before. They were in a raised, recessed alcove that had been black as midnight the evening she’d arrived. Now, the firelight revealed the sword and the thrones and painted them all with shifting darkness that highlighted rather than concealed.

  The thrones were as empty as the rest of the castle. And yet they weren’t abandoned. The wolves stood watch, and as Elena stepped cautiously forward the details carved into the wood of the thrones became clear: wolves. There were wolf heads carved on the arms of the larger chair and on the back of the smaller one. Three wolf carvings in all. Their mouths were open wide, and each tooth had been painstakingly crafted, along with each strand of hair in the pelts on their heads.

  The red wolf and the white wolf watched her approach.

  The sword was on the smaller throne. The wolf head carved on its back was the largest of the three. The alpha wolf watched over the smaller throne and the sword. Elena didn’t know what that meant. The head wasn’t carved as a lifeless trophy. It was snarling and vital. Ready to defend and protect?

  “In wood the alpha wolf helps you protect the sword. Where is he in life? Surely he hasn’t faded away,” Elena said.

  The red wolf moved when she spoke. The white wolf stood planted in place, but his haunches trembled. Soren paced in front of Lev. He put his body in between his white companion and Elena.

  The problem was that both wolves were in between her and the Romanov blade.

  Now that she’d seen it, she was even more certain that it had called her here. It wasn’t the wolves that made her heart pound and a thrill like anticipation suffuse her skin. But she needed to hold the sapphire blade again to be sure. She needed to claim it. The tableau of empty thrones and waiting sword and protective wolves wasn’t in her book of legends. Her grandmother had never mentioned the swords. Or the thrones. Yet Elena took another step forward. And then another.

  This was a part of the legend she felt rather than remembered.

  Somehow this was her part, even though she was a modern woman visiting a castle kept separate from the passage of time. She was no mere visitor. She’d been called. And the call had begun many years ago when she was a young girl listening to stories on her grandmother’s knee.

  “I’m here because I’m meant to be,” she said. Her voice was soft but firm. It echoed in the cavernous room, but it wasn’t swallowed or weakened. It was magnified. Lev whined and Soren blinked. Neither moved out of her way.

  The daggers in her back pockets were there should she need them. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t faze the giant wolves that protected the thrones. Even if she knew how to wield them.

  “I came here for help, but I’m beginning to think that you’re the ones who need my help instead. You’re losing this battle. You’ve almost lost him. He’s more than ready to fade away. It seems as if the alpha wolf is already gone,” Elena said. “Let me have the sword. I won’t take it away from Bronwal. I’ll use it against Grigori. I’ll use it to help you stand.”

  Soren listened to her every word. She was sure of it. He met her eyes. He blinked. And then he pressed back against the white wolf’s trembling body. Lev allowed himself to be pushed out of the way. He stepped back, pace after measured pace, until she had a clear path to the sapphire blade.

  “It isn’t my imagination, is it? I need the sword. And you need me to have it,” Elena said. “I’ve been distracted by my search for the black wolf. This is what I was meant to find all along.”

  She moved carefully closer to the thrones. She made no sudden gestures. She placed her feet softly on the floor. She kept her eyes on the sapphire. It winked darkly in the shadows of flames. Lev whined when she passed, but Soren stood, stalwart, in his white companion’s way. Elena was terrified, but she didn’t pause. It shouldn’t be easy to claim the blade. This was a test for her to pass in order to prove she was worthy of wielding the enchanted sword.

  She should have known that Volkhvy enchantments were more complicated than a human could understand. Slavic peasants had practiced simple hearth magic for centuries. But royal craftsman had carved the thrones for the Light Volkhvy’s champions, and Vasilisa herself had conjured the blades and enchanted the stones.

  Elena might have felt the call of the sapphire blade since she was a child, but only the alpha wolf could approve or disapprove of her quest.

  The rumble began in the soles of her shoes. It radiated upward through muscle and bone. It vibrated her chest until it rose to her ears and she finally heard the audible sound that had begun as a resonate, deep-chested hum.

  The growl caused all the blood to flow from her face and arms, leaving t
hem numb. It seemed every drop of life-giving fluid settled in her stomach, where a heavy knot formed as the first growl rolled into another without ceasing.

  The light from the giant fireplace and the leaping flames were no longer the only shadows. A hulking darkness fell over her and the wolves. It climbed up and up to paint the entire wall. The darkness coalesced into a shape that engulfed the entire throne alcove.

  As she tried to remember how to breathe, the shape became the black-as-midnight shadow of a wolf. The alpha wolf. Materialized out of the Ether to eat her alive. Or so it seemed in those seconds that she tried to remember why Grigori had seemed like any sort of threat at all.

  Soren and Lev tucked their tails and retreated behind the thrones. Elena shook and shivered and tried to straighten out the signals from her brain that were alternately telling her to run, faint and stand as still as stone. When she saw the previously ferocious muzzles of the red and white wolves show up beneath the thrones, she was finally able to move.

  She turned to face the black wolf.

  He wasn’t her alpha. She wouldn’t cower and quake. If she died, she would die with daggers in her hands. They were there, suddenly, even though she had no memory of drawing them from her pockets. And they were steady in her palms. Her tremble was gone.

  If Soren and Lev were as large as ponies, the alpha was as big as a draft horse. The doorway into the hall was an arched one, double and grand, and the powerful shoulders of his black body filled it. He stood with paws planted and his teeth showing sharp and white against the black snarl of his muzzle. Had she caused him to materialize from the Ether because she’d come for the sword? Perhaps his instinct to champion had left him, but his protective instincts were more powerful.

  “I came for you, but I found the sword. You don’t have to help me against the witchblood prince, but I must wield one of the Romanov blades. I feel the sapphire’s call. Surely, as its protector, you recognize that?” Elena reasoned. “The woman in the tapestry wielded the ruby blade. I’m not trying to steal this sword or take it away. I’ll use it against Grigori, but it will also be in defense of Bronwal. I promise.”