Ariana and her wizard and her army might try to stop them; but at the moment they felt entirely unstoppable.
***
The change was coming. Juliet could feel the call of the moon in her blood. In her very soul. She so loved these nights when she embraced the wild wolfen side of her nature and ran unfettered, with Ryn at her side. They had been traveling, living the life of a pair of rogues, for many weeks now. She missed her children, and it was almost time to go home, but she did so love this time alone with her husband. It reminded her of their first days together.
No one was about but Ryn, as she began to undress so as not to ruin yet another gown. There wasn’t much to her frock, since the days were growing warm and she had no tolerance for the heat, but still, she liked this garment and did not want it to be ripped as she transformed.
Here high in the mountains, far from everyone and everything, she had very few visions. In truth, her visions had been few and far between for months, no matter where she was. Perhaps it was simply a part of growing older, and she should be grateful. In an odd sort of way she missed the gift she had so often dismissed as unwanted.
As she contemplated her changing powers, a voice—Keelia’s voice—rang clearly in her head. I love you all.
Juliet reached out and grasped Ryn’s arm. It was already too late. Her husband was changing, and so was she. Before the form of wolf consumed her, she whispered hoarsely, in a voice that was not entirely her own, “Keelia is in trouble.”
***
One flick of his wrist and the Red Queen would be dead. She wasn’t going to reverse the harm she had done. She wasn’t even going to admit to her actions. So why should he keep her alive?
She was brave, and Joryn admired that bravery even though he should not, could not, admire anything about the Anwyn witch. For a long moment her eyes remained closed and then she opened them slowly. Her eyes met his. She did not even tremble, much less beg for mercy. No, this was a woman who never begged for anything, he imagined. She commanded. She ruled. She greeted death with her chin held high and her eyes dry of tears. There was no pleading, no begging for mercy.
One flick of his wrist.
He could not do it. He could not kill this maddening, evil woman. Only an evil woman could’ve done what she’d done, and yet he did not feel malevolence from her. He did not possess psychic powers as she did, and yet he did have inherent instincts. Should he trust the Grandmother, who told him this woman was responsible for the ruination of his people, or his instinct, which told him that she was not washed in the darkness he sought? The Grandmother had told him not to harm the queen, but if she refused to cooperate, what else was he to do?
Though he could not see the moon, Joryn felt the change in his blood. It was coming quickly. In moments he would be mountain cat, not man, and his gift of fire would be dormant until morning. This was his last chance—at least for tonight—to be rid of the woman who had cursed his people.
The fire on Joryn’s palms died suddenly, and he dropped his hands. He looked for signs of the moon-induced transformation on his prisoner, but saw none. Since she could change her form at will, as he had already discovered, could she also remain in her womanly shape beneath a full moon?
Without a word of explanation for his captive, Joryn stepped away from the cell and into the shadows, where he quickly undressed, setting his trousers, boots, and dagger aside moments before his bones began to shift. He usually embraced the transformation, but not tonight. Tonight more Caradon, all of those who’d been bitten since the last full moon, would find themselves infected by a dark evil the Anwyn Queen had made.
***
Keelia didn’t move for a long while. In truth, she could not. She’d tried very hard not to show fear, but to be faced so closely with death had shaken her to her very core. Why hadn’t her captor killed her? She knew the moon had called him. Had it interrupted his plans for her? Would he simply toss that magical fire her way in the morning?
A low growl... no, it was more of a deep purr... caught her attention, and her eyes were drawn to the shadows of the cave beyond the bars of her cell. A large cat, dark blond with one russet ear and a streak of red from that ear down one side, walked into the light of the torch overhead. Even if she did not recognize that streak of red, she could not mistake those eyes. From facing her captor, from the dreams, she knew those green eyes.
Caradon. Beast. Enemy. Lover.
The silver bracelet he always wore also remained, only now it girded one furry limb. It had grown smaller, in order to fit the animal without being loose, which meant there was magic in that bracelet. Was that why she couldn’t see into her captor? Of course. He’d said he was protected by the magic of the ancient Caradon, and it made sense that the magic had been channeled into the silver of the bracelet. No wonder she hadn’t felt him sneaking up behind her; no wonder she did not see his intentions. The bracelet protected him.
“What is it going to take to convince you that I didn’t curse anyone?” she asked. She felt the wildness calling to her, and cell or no cell, she would change tonight. Moving slowly, Keelia removed her gold gown, taking her time in unfastening the clasps at her shoulders, letting the dress fall and then stepping out of it.
The cat before her cocked his head to one side, as if studying her naked body. Keelia didn’t care that he looked, that in the morning her captor would remember what he’d seen. Many of her guards had seen her prepare for the change by shedding her clothes, and she’d set aside any modesty she might possess long ago. Excessive modesty was a human trait, and made little sense to her.
Thanks to her powers, the transformation which was painful for some and quite slow for others was effortless and quick for Keelia. In the blinking of an eye, she changed from woman to wolf.
In animal form, she slowly crossed her cell to face the Caradon. The bars remained between them, between cat and wolf, between male and female. There was an increased power in Keelia’s body, a power that ran through every limb, every muscle. As she longed to escape from this small prison, a new thought occurred to her.
She sauntered to the far side of the cell and turned about slowly. From there, she studied the cat who had dared to imprison her. She wanted to run, to jump, to fly, and she did.
Keelia pounced across the cell with all her might, slamming into the barred cell door. The metal rattled against stone as bits of mortar loosened. Unfortunately she did not make much of an impact as the cell was sturdily built. Returning to the opposite side of the cell, she attempted to loosen the bars once again, running, springing into the air, crashing into the metal bars.
She attempted to break down the bars several times, while the Caradon watched. Was that a smile on his furry face? Was he amused by her efforts? Imagining that he was amused only made Keelia try harder. Again, and again.
Exhausted, she finally lay down on the floor to rest. She’d cut herself in several places, crashing into the bars as she had, but none of her injuries were serious. The mountain cat moved closer to the bars, studied her for a moment, and then turned to run.
Her captor would have the joy of running beneath the moon tonight, but she would not. She would feel the pull of the moon while caught here in this small cell that did not allow her even a glimpse of the sky.
Throughout the night she attempted to loosen the bars of her cell by rushing into them with all her might. If she were larger perhaps it would work, but she was not only petite in her human form, but was a smallish wolf as well. Yes, she was significantly stronger in wolf form, but not strong enough to break out of her prison. Bloodied and sore from her continued efforts, she lay down before the cell bars to rest, and a deep sleep claimed her.
She was wolf tonight, but she had the dreams of a woman.
***
Joryn stayed close to the cave through the night, though he indulged in the power of his feline form and ran with great speed along steep trails for a long while before stopping to sleep beneath the full moon. Usually he did not drea
m on the nights of the transformation, but tonight as the moonbeams washed over him, he dreamed quite vividly.
He dreamed not of killing the Anwyn Queen, but of holding her. Kissing her. Fucking her. She was passionate in his dreams. Demanding, passionate, and wild. She was a fierce and insatiable lover who laughed and screamed and whispered gentle words in his ear. He did not know what she said, but those words filled him with something unexpected and important. Whatever it was she whispered in his ear, the message was important.
And still, he did not care about her words. He cared only for her bold touch, her soft skin, the way she cried out, the way it felt to sink into her warm, welcoming body.
Joryn awoke before sunrise, remembering that he’d left his prisoner attempting to escape. He hurried back toward the cave, and arrived just as the transformation to his human form took place. He ran into the cave, made his way down the snaking stone corridor, and caught sight of the cold torch outside the cell. With a flick of his fingers, the torch flamed to life, illuminating the natural corridor and the cell.
His prisoner lay in the center of the cell, her pale skin bare and bruised, cut in many places from her attempts at escape. Joryn checked the bars and found some of them slightly loosened. The prison remained sturdy, but if the queen continued to use her strength against the bars, eventually one or more would give way.
He had promised the Grandmother that if he could not get the queen to end the curse, then he would transport his prisoner to that cabin high in Caradon Territory, where the ancient witch had taught him so well. His gift required much instruction and supervision, and for years that cabin had been almost like home to him... if he cared to call any place home. It was clear that Queen Keelia wasn’t going to undo anything, but they could not travel until after the next two nights of the full moon had passed. He could not take the chance that she would slip away from him while he was in his animal form and she had the power to take her human shape. What other unexpected powers might she possess? No, before they traveled away from this place, he had to know that he could call upon his gift for fire if it was needed.
She moaned once, and lifted her head from the floor of her prison. Her long red hair was wild and tangled, and covered one cheek so that he could not see her face well enough. Not that his eyes were drawn to her face at the moment. In her gold gown she was beautiful, with curves aplenty and a regal grace. Naked, she was exquisite. Did her skin glow, or was that a trick of the firelight?
Joryn didn’t pretend that he wasn’t admiring her when she stood. Might as well not pretend, since all he wore was his enchanted bracelet, and his reaction to her state of undress was evident. Her eyes were drawn down his body, and the only reaction she offered was a slight lift of her eyebrows and a tightening of small nipples.
The queen used both hands to push her tangled hair away from her face. She did not try to hide her nakedness. The animal was a part of her, as it was of him, and she did not possess the reserve that so many ordinary women had been cursed with. She allowed him to look upon her, and as he watched her cuts and bruises began to heal, slowly but surely.
She asked, her voice even, “Are you going to kill me now?”
“No.”
She didn’t seem surprised. Did she ever? “That’s quite an interesting gift you possess.” She licked her lips, and if he hadn’t already been hard, that would’ve done it. “Fire.”
She didn’t know everything, and he wasn’t about to tell her. He might question whether or not she was evil, he might dream about her—he might even want her body beneath and around his. That didn’t mean be was foolish enough to trust her.
His prisoner had moved closer to the bars than was safe, considering her abilities and his exposed state. If Queen Keelia—ruler of the Anwyn and gifted seer—killed him, she’d never get out of her prison. She was smart enough to know that. Still, he took a step away from the bars.
Joryn’s eyes were drawn down the queen’s fine body, which he admired openly until he came to a small mole positioned against fair skin just beneath her navel and slightly to the left. In his dream, she’d had just such a mole. He knew because he’d kissed that mark on an otherwise flawless body and she’d laughed. He remembered the laugh, the taste of her skin, the quiver of her flesh, as if it were all real.
He reached for the bracelet which was supposed to protect his mind from hers. Obviously the Grandmother’s protective magic was flawed. His prisoner couldn’t read his mind, but apparently she could reach into his dreams.
And she was trying to seduce him into releasing her.
Chapter Three
It was all too evident to Keelia that summer was approaching. There wasn’t much of a breeze in her prison cave, though on occasion she caught a whiff of fresh air. She missed her cool baths, her fans, and the welcomed brush of fresh night air against her flesh.
The cell was slightly more tolerable when she was unclothed. Since she wasn’t shy about her body, she began to pass the days in that state. Her captor seemed alternately amused and annoyed, but she did not care.
When her army found her, she would insist that they take her to the nearest body of water before returning to The City. She did not wish her subjects to see her in such a sad condition, sweating and overheated and flushed. For a while she had wondered if her kidnapper had killed those who were searching for her with his remarkable gift for fire, but a few moments of quiet meditation had ended that worry. Her army, her devoted guard, were alive and well, but they were far away from this prison. She’d tried to reach out to them, as she had her mother, but as she had no mental connection with the soldiers she was quite sure nothing had happened. She didn’t see anything of her own future with certainty, but she did have hope that her guard would find her. Eventually. In a place like this one, hope was necessary.
Joryn appeared with her meal for the day, slipping it quickly through the portal made for that purpose. There was no more fresh fruit, apparently. The bread would be hard, and the meat was dried and tough. Even though she was hungry, Keelia did not rush to collect her meal. From her position on the stone floor, which was harder but also cooler than the cot, she rose up slightly.
She did not want to suffer this physical attraction to the man who had kidnapped her, but her body seemed to have a mind of its own where Joryn was concerned. She clenched in deep places which were normally dormant, and her nipples hardened. The dreams were to blame, she knew. Her body had the mistaken notion that this Caradon captor was already her lover, and it wanted more. It wanted touch. Intimate, hot touch.
All her life, she had dismissed the prophesy which said the Red Queen would take a Caradon lover and thereby bring peace to her people. The Anwyn had been at peace for many, many years. The Caradon were nothing more than nuisances. Why would such an extreme sacrifice be called for to end what was no more than an annoyance?
Now there was a new evil rising, and there was evidence of that evil everywhere. Her psychic abilities had been dampened; the Caradon monstrosities attacked even their own; her vivid visions of violence among the humans in the land below were all too real. Still, how could lying with a Caradon bring peace? How could making this man her lover stop an evil that seemed to her to be unstoppable?
There was only one logical explanation.
Joryn studied her without attempting to hide his appreciation. Arms crossed over a finely muscled chest, feet firmly planted, hair loose and thick. And clean. Keelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You have been in the water.”
“Yes. It is a warm day, Your Most Royal Splendor.”
He had latched on to her insistence that he address her as her station required, and on occasion had quite a lot of fun with it. Not when he was at his angriest, but when he only wanted to annoy her. She did not wish to argue with him, not now. She was tempted to order him to take her to the same water he had enjoyed, but in the past issuing orders to her kidnapper had accomplished nothing. Perhaps she should try asking instead. In her sweetest and most
demure voice, she began, “I don’t suppose I could persuade you to take me...”
He began to shake his head long before she could finish her question.
Keelia sat up slowly, and still she didn’t move toward her food. Hiding her frustration at his refusal, she tried again. “I have a proposition for you.”
“I’m sure you do,” Joryn answered, a touch of humor in his voice. He gripped one bar of her cell with one large hand. A very nicely shaped hand, she could not help but notice. “I know what you’ve been doing. You’re wasting your time.”
Keelia blinked a couple of times. “I haven’t been doing anything. In fact, I believe I have been an ideal prisoner for the past few days.”
“Do you think I don’t realize that you’ve invaded my dreams?” her captor asked. “Do you think I don’t realize that you’re trying to seduce me in a way that only a powerful witch could?”
Keelia swallowed hard. He’d been having dreams about her? Dreams like hers? It wasn’t possible that her mate was a Caradon. It was unheard of. Still, the dreams were a part of the connection, a part of the realization of one’s mate’s identity.
“I have done no such thing,” she said calmly. “I receive information psychically, but I do not influence the minds of others.” Unless she had been able to reach her mother. “I don’t affect their dreams and thoughts. It would be terribly rude. Communication is possible, in rare and special circumstances, but if you believe I’m capable of... of mind control, you’re mistaken. Perhaps you have experienced perfectly ordinary dreams and you’re confused.”
“They’re not ordinary, I assure you.” His eyes drifted down. “That mole on your belly. I saw it in my dream before I saw it on you. The dreams feel very real.”
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