“In this, you and I are in agreement.” Quinn eased off of her enough to unlace the ties binding her leather bodice. Once the task was complete, he peered into her eyes and lifted an eyebrow in an unspoken question. She nodded, her blue depths clouded with desire, and he tugged the gathered fabric of her bodice down until her pale breasts popped free. He paused again, letting her know she was in control.
Averell smiled and it rivaled the sun. “Show me.” She grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down. “Take away this burning need you’ve started within me.”
“I’m afraid this will only add fuel to that fire,” he whispered and then sucked one of her erect nipples into his mouth.
“Oh!” The surprise in that one-word utterance had him chuckling. “This is… interesting.” She gulped in a breath. “Startling. I had no idea…” She arched her back on another squeal and he took full advantage by continuing his torment.
It didn’t escape his notice he was the first man to ever put his lips upon her body, teach her the wonders that two people could share. The pebbled skin drew him onward; the sounds of enjoyment she made low in her throat caused his member to grow and press tightly against the front of his trousers. Oh, he wanted this woman, wished to bury his length deep inside her, but he refused to rush it. She needed to acclimate herself to this new world, learn how she enjoyed being pleasured. When he released the bud with a slight pop, she whimpered a protest, but he blew on the skin he’d tormented, and when she shivered and guided his head back, he once more claimed the nub.
Her honeysuckle scent wrapped around him and infiltrated his brain. Did flowers smell as sweet as she? Averell was warm and soft and willing beneath him, and she felt right in his arms. When he kneaded her other breast with his free hand, she cried out again, her fingers digging into his nape. The slight sting of her nails acted as a prod and sent hot sensation tripping down his length, into his stones.
In this moment, when their future wasn’t certain, he was sure of one thing—he wanted Averell as his own in every way that mattered. Leg-shackling didn’t seem the death sentence he’d once thought when he contemplated legally binding himself to her.
Claim her, his wolf urged.
Quinn nipped the nipple and she sucked in a quick breath. She blinked open her eyes, the depths drugged with dark passion, and she pushed at his shoulders. “Averell?”
“You must stop,” she implored him in a voice throaty with emotion. She held his gaze. Need warred with confusion in her eyes. “What you make me feel is too big, too much, too soon after…” She shook her head. Tears welled in her eyes. “I buried my father today, and I…”
Her words were effective as cold water thrown in his face. “I understand.” He rolled off her onto his side and then flopped onto his back. His pulse thundered through his temples and he drew in deep breaths to calm his body. “I apologize for my enthusiasm and if I frightened you.”
“You didn’t.” Averell straightened her clothing, effectively hiding her charms from view. Her own breathing came in pants as she did up the leather laces. Probably for the best. Then she found his hand and squeezed. “You did everything right. I merely need time to think, and sleep I think.”
He nodded and concentrated on the lightening sky as the sun rose, but he clung to her hand, threaded their fingers together as if she’d vanish into thin air if he let go.
You are afraid she will choose to die.
As always, his wolf knew him too well. Yes, and if she does, how will I go on? She’s different. We’re well matched.
You love her.
Did he? Desired her, yes, respected the hell out of her, true, but love? He thought about her determination and strength, her wonder for the world around her, and the compassion she shared. Yes, perhaps I do.
He and Averell were silent for a long time, lying in the sweet grass with their fingers entwined as the world came awake around them.
Finally, he broke the quiet. “Wolves are very protective and territorial of those they love.” Not quite a declaration, but close. There was something about this woman that called out to him—both sides of him—and begged him to engage her on all levels. “They mate for life.”
She kept her gaze on the sky. “When you mate, do you change the woman into what you are as well?” There was no fear in her voice, only interest.
Ah, well that was hopeful. “I do not. Due to the curse, my affliction cannot transfer to anyone else.” He chose his next words with care. “I am not that sort of shifter, and I do not bite unless a woman specifically asks me to.”
Bite her.
Quinn shook his head, ignoring his wolf, though his member twitched to life once more. He wanted to see his bite—his mark—on her pale skin; to claim her as his. “However, there is every possibility I will pass the curse on to any male children I might father. The witch was adamant when she cursed my brother and I—and our male line forever.”
Another long stretch of silence brewed between them while they both contemplated the sky, the clouds, the birds, anything but each other. Their fingers remained interlocked.
Then Averell turned her head and looked at him. He met her gaze. She smiled even as tears softly leaked over her cheeks. No doubt grief bubbled to the surface. “Perhaps it is an acceptable risk if there is love present in the relationship.” She squeezed his hand. “After all, love is a powerful form of magic. It can bridge the gaps.”
Quinn returned her grin as comforting warmth infused him. “Bridges can be beautiful pieces of art.”
“Yes.”
For a long time, he was content to lay in the grass beside her, hold her hand while she softly cried. Nothing had changed, not really, yet everything had.
It was encouraging.
CHAPTER 8
AVERELL SIGHED as she once more paced the length and breadth of her sumptuous room in the Annanvale castle.
After she and Quinn had laid in the grass during that peaceful interlude, the rumbling of her stomach had brought an end to it. He’d suggested they mount up and continue their travels. Two hours later, they’d arrived, rode over the drawbridge and were inside the walls that surrounded the town proper. Many greetings were called to her bearded companion, and genuine respect and fondness reflected on every face they encountered.
Not long after, he’d ushered her into his home and she hadn’t stopped gawking at the luxury ever since. Everywhere she turned there were gilt-framed paintings, plush carpets, draperies of rich fabrics and sparkling jewels upon figurines, chandeliers and even in the collars of dogs they’d passed in the halls.
She wasn’t presented to any of his family or other members of the court, much to her relief. Instead, Quinn led her into the kitchens, to the delight of the staff, where she was plied with all manner of food and drink until she cried mercy with a stuffed belly. He had laughed, and his smile sparkled in his gaze and crinkling the corners of his eyes. That was how she would always remember him, and her heart had constricted for the knowledge that their time together was limited. He’d led her away, up three flights of stairs and into a guest room that was nicer than any cottage she’d ever visited.
He’d kissed her forehead, rang for a bath to be brought in and then he left her alone, promising to check on her later, explaining he had much to see to in the way of security.
An hour later, she’d stepped out of a copper tub and cooling water and into a night dress of fine lawn trimmed with inches of ruffled lace. How the people in the castle knew her measurements was beyond her, but she didn’t begrudge anyone the garment, for it slid over her skin like a silken dream.
Yes, this was very different from anything she’d ever know, and for the moment, she would enjoy the respite, especially in light of what must happen tomorrow.
The rich food and copious amounts of it, combined with the warm, perfumed water and soft clothes had left her sleepy, and she’d laid down amidst the down-filled pillows, vowing to rest for an hour.
She hadn’t awakened until just before midn
ight.
Now, although she felt refreshed, her mind still spun with the agonizing decision she must make in under twenty-four hours. Quinn had told her there was always a choice. Hers lay outlined in sharp relief—kill or be killed.
Like poor Papa.
A tightness filled Averell’s chest. Of course, there was every possibility her power-crazed mother would kill her after she carried out the task. Plus, there was Quinn himself to consider. The man he was would wither and crumble beneath the pressure if he were to assume the throne. How could she force such a thing upon him and stifle the good works he already did? Plus, her mother would undoubtedly attempt to conquer Annanvale, which meant his life would be thrust into jeopardy.
Life, in the span of two days, had changed dramatically and left her with more questions than the answers she originally sought, but it had brought her Quinn, and for that she would always be grateful. For now, she had to think.
I need to be outside, surrounded by trees. I cannot think while pampered and coddled.
More than that, she missed Quinn, wished to talk with him, be with him, borrow from his wisdom and strength, spend her last night alive with him, for he made her happy even as fears threatened to swallow her. If he shifted into the beast at night, was he even now out there, prowling the woods?
I must go.
Yet, when she conducted a quick search of the room—done in pleasing shades of gold and mossy green—she couldn’t locate the clothes she’d worn into the castle nor could she find her bow and arrow. Drat the efficiency of the palace staff… and Quinn’s diligence regarding protecting his brother, but inexplicably, he’d left the golden dagger for her. Was that his choice or a leading of intuition? She didn’t know and turned her attention to the wardrobe. There were two serviceable day dresses in the clothes press—one in forest green and the other in rose, with tiny white flower buds embroidered upon the bodice. Both were of sprigged muslin and both delicate and pretty. Matching slippers rested at the bottom of the press and in one of the drawers, she discovered linen petticoats and silken stockings.
What the devil am I supposed to do with these? Averell rolled her eyes. Ten minutes hiking through the forest and they’ll be ruined.
Yet, having nothing else with which to cover herself, she dressed in the rose-colored dress and shoes. At least no one objected to the way she wore her hair, plaited and wrapped about the back of her head. Then she snuck out of her room, navigated the halls and somehow gained access to the back gardens without incident. From there, she ran and ran and ran, and she didn’t stop until the familiar presence of trees swallowed her.
After a while, she developed a stitch beneath her ribs and her heaving lungs called for a rest. By the light of the nearly full moon Averell found a fast-moving stream that no doubt emptied into the lake she’d seen upon first sight of the castle. She dropped to the soft, moss-covered ground and gratefully scooped handfuls of the cool, crisp water to her mouth.
The slight snap of a twig or crackle of a dead leaf alerted her to the presence of another being. She shot her head up and sent a glance about the immediate area. There was nothing there, but the hair on her bare arms and at the back of her neck prickled. Slowly, with her heartbeat racing, she stood, her body tensed to run.
Then a large ruddy gray wolf appeared from the undergrowth across the stream from her location. She held her breath as fear climbed her throat, yet her feet remained frozen to the ground as she watched in paralyzed fascination.
It raised its head upon seeing her and the amber eyes gleamed. Blood stained its snout and front paws, and for long moments their gazes remained locked. With every breath the beast drew, the hair on its back rippled.
Those eyes, so familiar, held a primal quality, and the ever-present pull, that invisible thread that connected them heightened. “Quinn?” Stupidly, or perhaps with natural curiosity in order to quell her fears, she extended a shaking hand, but the wolf held its position across the stream. Would his fur feel rough to the touch and would he let her pet him? She tamped down the urge to laugh hysterically. Did one even pet a wolf? Then in her mind’s eye, she saw herself, clad in hunting clothes with her arrows slung over her shoulder and a hand resting upon the wolf’s head as they prowled the forests together.
Her chest tightened. Did that mean there was a future for her after all? But how was that possible?
A faint white glow surrounded the animal. Slowly, with an expression of agony and pain in his eyes, the animal shifted into human form—Quinn’s naked human form. “Averell,” he said in a quiet voice without a trace of embarrassment or surprise, as if he expected to find her in the forest. “Why are you here?”
“I needed the trees around me. Life in the castle is a luxury and it’s wonderful, but I will always prefer the peace and grandeur of nature,” she said, her voice hushed as she greedily devoured him with her gaze.
His chuckle sent sharp awareness skittering over her skin. “I feel the same every damned day, and I escape when I can.”
He was no less impressive out of his clothing. As he entered the stream, crouching to wash the blood from his skin, muscles rippled. A sprinkling of coarse red hair covered the upper part of his broad chest. A slight trail of it tapered over his ridged abdomen, ending in a nest from which his length sprang. Dear Lord, he is stunning.
Warmth curled low through her belly. She couldn’t keep her gaze from him, drank his presence as if she wished to memorize every perfect shadowed contour of him. Obviously he’d just returned from a hunt, but did he kill for sport or for hunger this night? It didn’t matter, for this was truly who he was and… Averell forced a swallow into her suddenly dry throat. And he was becoming important to her.
Did she love him? He owned a part of her heart already and he certainly made everything better when he was around. When she thought of the future, she couldn’t see him not being there. Except, what future did she have? If she was given this one night, she wanted to spent it with him, knowing him as thoroughly as if they had all the time in the world together.
I wish for the chance to truly live.
“Do you, ah, plan to return to the castle once you finish bathing?” With his every movement, she admired the man he was while remaining mindful of the beast he could transform into with apparently little provocation. But with him, there was no fear of the wolf. How very… odd.
“That depends.” He scooped water over his head multiple times and then he gave his tresses and his beard a vigorous scrubbing. Water dribbled down the strong column of his neck. Droplets clung to his defined chest and a great urge to lick the moisture from his skin possessed her.
“On what?” She could hardly breathe he was so beautiful. Oh, to run her fingers over that torso, to feel his touch, to know of the glory of bodies coming together in traditions as old as time. Desire built inside, throbbed into her core with insistence.
I need this man.
“You.” Quinn stood to his full height. His brown eyes gleamed as amber as his wolf’s, and for the space of a heartbeat she was spellbound from the raw power and passion in that gaze. He stepped out of the stream onto her side of it, in all his naked splendor, and she quivered with an ancient desire. “I go where you go, Averell, do what you wish. Tell me what you want.”
In that instant, she knew beyond the doubts and fears that still crowded her mind. “You. I want you.” She closed the distance between them and threw herself into his arms. When she kissed him, he answered with the same intensity and they drank from each other, shared frantic, frenzied kisses that made her blood burn and had his hardened member pressing against her belly. When she wrenched away, she was breathless. “Regardless that I am destined to die tomorrow night, for this one I shall live.”
“You’re certain?” He ran his palms from her shoulders to her hands and he clasped her fingers as he peered into her eyes.
“Yes.” She smiled and gently pulled free from his hold. “Where you are concerned, there has never been hesitation.” Slowly, delibe
rately while he watched with heat in his eyes, she pulled the pretty dress up and off her body, letting it slip from her fingers into a rose-colored puddle at her feet. “Show me what love is so I may know at least that before the end.” Once she’d toed off her slippers, she stood as naked as he in the moonlight.
He held out a hand and when she put hers into his, he tugged into a loose embrace. “The intimate sharing of bodies is not love, sweeting. You must feel such an emotion deep down inside and know beyond a shadow of a doubt that someone else’s happiness is the only thing you want, that you can’t live if the other person is not beside you.”
“You make me happy, Quinn.”
“Ah, it’s a good start.” He nuzzled the place where her neck joined her shoulder. Tingles trailed in his wake. “Coming together physically is the evidence of desire. You see love in the actions and words of another. Trust in that, for your body can betray you.”
“Your actions have set you apart, and don’t think I cannot feel your evidence, my all-too-polite beast.” Averell wriggled her hips against his, and when she brushed the engorged part of him, his soft moan excited her. Delighted, she kissed him and reveled in the gentle rasp of his beard against her cheeks and lips, of the power that came with rendering a man speechless by taking off her clothes. Curls of need expanded in her lower belly. “In this moment, I desire you in the purest sense of the word.”
“Then you shall have me, for I’m not in the habit of disappointing a lady,” he murmured. Then he lifted her into his arms and carried her behind the bushes from whence he’d appeared in wolf form.
A giggle escaped her. “I am not a lady.” She frowned. Is that what he wanted in a romantic interest?
Quinn set her down on a carpet of springy soft moss. He kissed her lips. “You looked like one in the dress—without the proper undergarments I’ll add.”
“They were unnecessary for a run in the darkness.”
“Perhaps, but in all honesty, you will always appear in my mind like you did the first day I met you—in your hunting garb with an arrow trained on me.”
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