He would always disappear, and she would wake up and stare at the ceiling, wondering if it was truly just her subconscious speaking, or if he was somehow able to speak to her through her dreams. The only way to find out for certain was if she asked him, and since that would require going back into the woods, it wasn’t an option.
One day, shortly before noon, Lucas showed up at her doorstep with a picnic basket looped over one of his sturdy arms. “I’m sorry to just show up unannounced,” he told her aunt with a cheeky grin that belied his statement, “but I was hoping to surprise her. Would you mind if I steal your niece away for a few hours this afternoon?”
If she’d still been living amongst the gentry, and had one of those proper, highborn mothers who were sticklers for the rules, Lucas would have been shooed away instantly just for the idea. A young man escorting a lady for an afternoon alone in the countryside, without a single servant or chaperone in attendance? It was the stuff scandals were made of. But out here it was normal, almost expected even, and so her Aunt Eve simply smiled, looking very pleased.
“I’m sure Clara would love to go.”
“Are you certain?” Clara asked, stepping forward. “I know you’d planned to have me help with the wash today.”
Her Aunt shook her head briskly. “Nonsense. I’ve been doing the wash by myself longer than you’ve been alive. I assure you I can make it through the day without your help, as much as I do love your company.” She winked at Clara affectionately. “Now hurry and get ready. I’m sure Lucas doesn’t want to be kept waiting long.”
Shaking her head, Clara did as she was told, though she couldn’t help the smile on her face. “I do believe my aunt is doing her best to see that I spend as much time with you as possible,” she said after her Aunt had shut the door, hooking her arm around his as they walked through the grass.
“Well, good,” Lucas said, squeezing her arm affectionately.
“Oh, you,” Clara began, then stopped at the sight of the fully-saddled workhorse standing a few feet away. His nose was buried in the grass as he munched, his long tail swishing lazily, and his black coat gleamed in the sunlight. “You brought Ahern?”
“The place I had in mind is a little far for a walk,” Lucas admitted. “I hope you don’t mind.”
Clara shook her head. “It’s been a few months since I’ve last been in the saddle,” she said as he mounted. “It will be nice to feel horseflesh beneath me again.”
She allowed him to pull her up and settle her between his legs, and though it was a little uncomfortable sitting sideways without a sidesaddle, she was able to lean against his chest, which more than made up for it. Cradling the picnic basket in her hands, she listened to his heartbeat as they trotted through the fields and down a dirt path. His chest was warm and sturdy beneath her cheek, and he smelled like sweet hay and the freshly baked bread from his mother’s kitchen.
With a little sigh of contentment, she watched the tall grass waving lazily in the summer breeze, listened to the birds twittering and the sound of small animals scampering about. Closing her eyes, she allowed peace to envelope her.
“We’re here, sleeping beauty.”
She jerked up with a start, nearly hitting the top of her head against Lucas’s chin. They were standing near the base of a hill, overlooking a small pond tucked against a gathering of apple trees and blackberry bushes. The sweetness of the berries, which were about ripe to bursting at this time of year, wafted to her on the warm breeze, and the sunlight sparkled off the clear water.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmured, and then recalled his words. “Did I really fall asleep?”
“You did.” Lucas helped her dismount, then slid smoothly to the ground himself. “Snored all the way here.”
She smacked his chest even as she caught the twinkle in his eye. “I don’t snore!” she exclaimed indignantly, but she was half-laughing as he said it.
“I know. I just love riling you.” He grinned widely. “Your cheeks flush and your eyes sparkle.”
Clara could feel a blush spreading across her cheeks at his words, and she looked away. “Now you’re just flattering me.” Before he could respond, she picked up the basket and walked over to a spot beneath one of the apple trees. “Let’s eat, shall we?”
They spread a blanket out, then removed what turned out to be a veritable feast—cold ham, cheese, buttery rolls, pickles, and sweet strawberry tarts. “Are you certain we aren’t missing someone?” she teased. “This is enough to feed a small army!”
“Believe you me, Clara,” Lucas said as he tucked away two rolls piled high with meat and cheese, “I eat enough for at least one army. Farm work burns a lot of energy.”
Clara studied him over her own sandwich. He was wearing a green shirt, trousers and boots—simple attire, and yet Clara had no doubt that if he walked into a ballroom, every single lady would swoon. The top two buttons of his shirt were left open so she caught a glimpse of his broad chest and the muscles that lay beneath it.
Surely she should be more attracted to him, shouldn’t she? He was funny, intelligent, extremely good looking, and he paid attention to her—real attention, as if she were not just a woman, but a person too. Many of the men she knew back home had admired her looks, but hadn’t been willing to give her the time of day when she tried to engage them in stimulating conversation. As far as they were concerned, women were to look pretty and make babies, not use their minds.
“Your mother makes the best tarts I’ve ever tasted,” Clara told Lucas after biting into one and savoring the flaky pastry and juicing strawberry filling as it saturated her tongue. “I really must nag her for the recipe some time.”
“I’m sure she’d love to teach you how to make them sometime.” Lucas smiled, and then his eyes turned serious. “Clara, I’ve noticed that you’re looking a bit… peaky, lately. Is everything alright? I hope you’re not getting ill.”
Clara reached up to touch her face. There weren’t any mirrors in her aunt’s house, so she hadn’t really paid much attention to her appearance as of late. Glancing over at the water, she studied her reflection and winced mentally. ‘Peaky’ was an understatement. Her face was pale, her eyes heavy and rounded with dark circles. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d looked like such.
“I… I had no idea,” she murmured, wondering why her aunt had never mentioned it. “I… I suppose it’s because I haven’t been sleeping very much lately.”
Lucas frowned. “Why not?”
Clara hesitated. She didn’t want to tell him about her dreams of Kellan, or how the wolf howling kept her awake at night because she had to fight not to leave her bed and head back into the woods. It seemed as though the call, as Kellan had spoken of it, was strengthening with each night, along with the intensity of the dreams. It was maddening, as she didn’t want anything to do with it, yet she was helpless to it.
“I’ve been having nightmares,” she decided to tell him, which was partially true—she did sometimes still have the nightmares, though the endings were very different from what they were before she moved out here. “I still dream about the night the rebels attacked, and when I wake up, I can’t get back to sleep.”
Lucas’s face softened in sympathy, and he reached over to squeeze her hand. “I’m so sorry, Clara,” he said gently. “I can’t imagine how it would feel to lose my entire family in the course of a single night.”
Tears filled her eyes suddenly, and she blinked them back. Forcing a smile, she picked up her half-eaten tart. “Let’s talk about something else, shall we? It’s a beautiful day, and I don’t want to dwell on things I cannot change.”
“Of course,” Lucas said, but Clara caught the flash of disappointment in her eyes—he wanted her to confide in him, she realized. It would be nice if she could lean her head against his chest like she’d done before, and unload her emotional baggage onto his sturdy shoulders.
But something in her heart held her back, something she didn’t fully understand since she knew
Lucas wouldn’t begrudge her for it. And it infuriated her more than anything else that she couldn’t seem to take her heart in her hands and give it to someone of her own choosing.
* * *
His senses on high alert, the man crept silently through the darkness, crouching through the trees. His body stiffened as he heard a branch crack behind him, but when he turned it was only one of his hunters. Biting back a curse at the man’s clumsiness, he motioned with his fingers for silence, then continued to inch forward, sweeping his surroundings with a keen gaze, searching for prey.
Years of practice had honed his eyes so that he could see in the dark as well as any night animal, and his other senses were heightened as well—he could hear each breath his men took, smell every scent the wind brought to him on her wings. He’d worked hard to hone his skills, and the number of kills under his belt signified just how much that had paid off.
Finally they reached their destination, and crouched behind the bushes some distance away to wait. The sliver of moonlight illuminated the man slumped under a tree, seemingly asleep. A trickle of blood burned brightly in the night, like a beacon, and the man tensed as he readied his weapon, banking that it would draw the right kind of predator forward—the one that they were looking for.
Just when his legs were beginning to go stiff from crouching motionless for so long, a figure stepped out of the shadows. He appeared a normal man, dressed in a jerkin and leggings, but his extraordinary pale face and red eyes gleaming out of the darkness gave him away—he was a monster, and exactly the kind of creature he and his men fought to eradicate from this world. Because of his group, the country people lived in relative peace, undisturbed by the horrors lurking in the shadows.
The man crouched down on his haunches, tucking two pale fingers beneath the other man’s chin and pushing it up to expose his throat. He opened his mouth to reveal the long fangs that marked his kind—vampire. Filthy, foul, bloodsucking vermin. Spawn of the devil.
As the vampire leaned down to feast, the man hidden in the shadows released the bolt from his crossbow. It pierced the vampire’s chest, who let out a keening howl and toppled backward. As he did so, the ‘unconscious’ man leaped forward, pulling a stake from his sleeve, and drove it into the vampire’s heart.
Smiling with grim satisfaction, the man motioned for his group to stand, then crossed over to the one who had made the kill. “That’s very good work.” He clapped him on the back. “You’ve done your ancestors proud.”
The man smiled, wiping away the blood at his temple. “Thank you, sir.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s get that bonfire built so we can burn this bastard. I don’t want to leave any chance open for him to come back.”
* * *
Clara dragged herself out of bed as the sun came up, gritting her teeth as a headache pounded relentlessly at her temples. She was getting tired of being tired, and her resolve not to heed the wolf call was growing perilously thin. Keeping her teeth clenched so as not to give into the yawns trying to work their way up, she pulled on her clothes, then stumbled outside to the lean-to so she could splash some icy water onto her face.
Apparently it wasn’t enough, because when she came back inside her Aunt took one look at her before her own face blanched in horror and concern.
“Clara!” she exclaimed, rushing over and placing her small hands on either side of her face. “What on earth is wrong with you, child? Are you ill?” She peered into Clara’s eyes, then felt her forehead. “You look like death warmed over.”
Clara tried to crack a smile, but her lips didn’t seem to have enough energy for it. “I’m just tired. I haven’t been sleeping very well lately.” She was unable to stifle the yawn this time. “The nightmares… they’ve really taken a toll.”
“Well why didn’t you say something?” Aunt Eve drew back with a frown. “I would have made you a batch of chamomile tea. It’s always soothed me whenever I’ve had a restless night.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I never really thought about it.” Not quite true, unfortunately—Clara had debated whether or not to try a herbal remedy, but she knew somewhere inside her that her problem wasn’t physical—it was mental. The wolf call was pulling at her soul, and no amount of chamomile tea was going to release its hold on her.
“Well, I’ll make sure to make you some tonight before bed,” her aunt said firmly. “Now why don’t you go and lay down for a bit?”
Clara shook her head. “I actually think a walk might do me more good. Clear my head, get the blood flowing. Do you think you would mind if I went out for a bit?”
That something flickered in her aunt’s eyes again, the same look Clara had caught before when she’d mentioned the woods, but Eve only nodded. “Don’t be too late, child.”
Clara promised not to be, then grabbed her shoes and bonnet and stepped outside. Unlike her first days here, when she’d walked through the fields with a bounce in her step and the sunshine in her heart, her feet dragged wearily through the grass and the sun seemed to pound as relentlessly as her headache did. Rather than allow herself to be held down, she picked up the pace determinedly, allowing a seed of anger to root itself in her heart as she headed for the woods. By the time she reached the edge of the trees, the anger had become a bud, and had burst into a blossom of rage as she entered the maze.
Who do these shifters think they are, controlling my life like this? she thought as she strode through the maze with her fists balled at her sides. As if it wasn’t bad enough that Kellan held me tied to a bed and then claimed that I was mated to him, he then invades my dreams and refuses to let me sleep! Why can’t they all just shut up for one night with their ridiculous wolf call so that I don’t have to fight it?
Thoughts like this continued to whirl in her agitated mind until she was fairly steaming. By the time she exited the maze, she looked as if the top of her head might blow off. The two shifters on duty seemed to notice, because their eyes widened as they looked at her, their stances automatically shifting to a defensive posture.
“An intruder!” one of them exclaimed, pulling a knife from his belt.
“Don’t be daft!” the other one snapped, though he kept his eyes firmly trained on her. “That’s Kellan’s woman… what was her name… Clara.”
“I. Am. Not. Kellan’s. Woman,” Clara growled through clenched teeth as she stepped forward. “I am my own woman, and I am tired of this nonsense.” The guards stiffened and glared at her, and she had to steel herself to keep from bolting—she knew she wasn’t entirely welcome, that she was a stranger and they wouldn’t take kindly to her tone.
“Please,” she said more softly, “tell Kellan that I am here.”
Chapter Five
Kellan walked briskly toward the gate, his heart jumping in his chest. Adam, one of the shifters that had been assigned guard duty for the day, had come running, telling him that Clara was here and demanding to speak with him.
He’d heard the legends and stories of what it was like to be fated to mate with a woman who was not of your clan, but the experience was all too different. He’d been certain it would be no big hardship to let her walk away since he didn’t care much for the idea of being mated to a human, but the past week had been utter hell. Every cell in his body protested Clara’s absence, and it only seemed to get worse. On the hunts at night with the pack, during their nightly song, he couldn’t help but infuse his cry with longing for her—a longing he neither welcomed nor enjoyed.
If he’d knew exactly what sort of torture lay ahead of him, he would have never let Charles allow her to walk out of the woods. He would have tossed her over his shoulder and locked her up in his cabin until she agreed to stay with him. He was restless and moody, constantly on edge, wondering with every breath when she would return. At night, during their hunts, he couldn’t help but call for her. Every fiber of his being ached for her presence, and he couldn’t have resented it more.
He walked quickly through the village, and his heart lightened as
her scent wafted toward him, relaxing the taut muscles in his body even as it tightened… other areas. Unconsciously he picked up the pace, needing visual confirmation that she was here and safe.
As the gates came into view, so did she, standing in front of the guard, her arms crossed over her chest in a defensive posture. Those eyes of hers sparkled with a mixture of fury and fear, and he could tell by her rigid stance that she was very uncomfortable standing out in the open with everybody staring at her.
As though she was able to scent him, Clara froze, then whipped her head around and pinned that glare on him. He noticed that even though her eyes still sparked, some of the tension strung through her body dissipated, and couldn’t help but grinning. So, she was happy to see him too.
“It’s about time you showed up!” She jabbed a trembling finger in his direction, tears shimmering in her eyes now. “Do you have any idea the kind of hell you’ve been raining down upon me for the last week and a half?” She didn’t seem to want an answer, because she kept right on talking. “You’ve been stalking me in my dreams during what sleep I get, which is far too little because you’ve also been keeping me awake with your stupid wolf call!”
“Did you consider,” Kellan drawled, folding his arms to prevent himself from reaching out and hugging her like he wanted, “that if you’d heeded the call instead of resisting it, you could have saved yourself much of this needless suffering?”
“If by ‘heeding the call’ you mean coming back here and offering myself up to you, then yes, I admit that I did consider it countless times—or rather my body did. I’ve been fighting the impulse this entire time, and I’ve only come now because I’m asking you to make it stop. This morning my Aunt wanted to call a doctor because I looked like a ghoul from the lack of sleep!” She bit her lower lip and looked around nervously and whispered through her teeth. “I know I’m not welcome here by anyone, least of all you. So why won’t you just let me go?”
Happily Ever Alpha Page 4
