by Tasha Black
“It’s not like it was silver,” Grace said. “You got better.”
Indeed, there wasn’t even a scar on Cressida’s shoulder from where Grace had shot through her to kill Garrett.
“What do we do now?” Cressida asked.
“Let’s start by getting her home,” Grace answered.
It had been a long, horrible night. To her credit, Cressida nodded and hopped up.
Each of them slipped an arm around Ainsley and headed toward her house.
Chapter 18
Ainsley drifted in and out of fever-dreams.
She dreamed of all things wolf and woman, but twisted, and terrible.
She ran through the bamboo forest on wounded paws.
She baked a cake and frosted it with ashes.
She howled at a blood-red moon.
And all the time she was searching, tracking the pull of her mate. But he was nowhere to be found.
An oven glowed orange, singeing her snout.
A child cried out in anguish.
And Ainsley dreamed on...
A few times the fever released her from its grip to toss her casually in its hand. During those cool moments of flight, she heard snippets of the waking world.
“—no, Grace, she’ll be fine,” Thad Volker said, like they’d been talking a long time already. “She just needs to rest.”
“Did it really kill Ophelia—” MacGregor’s soft voice began.
But Ainsley never heard the rest.
She was already walking barefoot in an endless blueberry patch, plastic pail on a string around her neck, searching for a ripe berry in the wintertime.
“Ainsley,” sang the rich oboe of her mother’s voice.
Ainsley turned quickly.
Her parents stood between two rows of blueberry bushes. They wore fluffy white bathrobes. Mrs. Connor held their old cat, Mr. Purrington, in her arms, stroking him slowly. The air filled with the scent of the gingerbread they used to bake on rainy days.
Ainsley tried not to cry.
“We’re so proud of you Ainsley,” her father smiled, with that twinkle in his eye. Then he quoted Dostoyevsky. “The soul is healed by being with children.”
The air went cold and a huge rumble shook the ground.
Ainsley crouched into her fiery wolf, and spun to see the world melt into darkness.
A single light harshly illuminated a man with golden hair.
He looked up and smiled at her, blue eyes flashing in the spotlight.
Julian.
But why was he happy?
“Ainsley Connor,” Ophelia Winter boomed.
Ainsley blinked and the alpha was before her.
“Your pack has failed in its duty,” she scolded. “There is nothing left for the wolves of Tarker’s Hollow. And there is no new blood to give you strength. I cast you out.”
At these words, Ainsley felt herself forcibly shifted back into her human form. She was naked, humiliated, and her soul was shattered.
“Ainsley,” Erik whispered. “Oh, Ainsley.”
She closed her eyes and followed his voice with every fiber of her mind.
No. Please, no.
If Erik had joined the parade of visiting ghosts, it meant he was dead, too.
If Erik was really gone, she would never go back to the cool brightness of the real world. She would rather chase the ghost of him through this purgatory forever.
She sensed his presence nearby. Something had changed about him. Though she knew it was impossible, she swore she could feel his touch.
His fingers slid through her hair, tugging it gently at her temple as he always did. She could feel the tickle of his rough calluses on her skin, and smell the rich spice of him.
“I missed you,” he whispered.
“I missed you too,” she whispered back through tears, not daring to open her eyes.
The world shook and then he was holding her, curled around her, his chest to her back. He felt so warm, so real. As always, his touch sucked away her sadness like a sponge.
She opened her eyes, praying for the vision to continue just a little more.
They were in her parents’ bed. Soft light poured through the sheers, just like a real afternoon, in her real home.
She knew if she rolled over to look at him directly, he would be gone, but she couldn’t help herself.
When she turned, he didn’t vanish. Instead, he gazed directly into her eyes with a smoking intensity. He was her Erik, but not the same Erik. Not exactly. He was taller or stronger, or maybe smarter. Though he had always been all of those things.
She searched his face, desperately trying to memorize him, to learn each tiny wrinkle near his eyes, every hair on his shadowed jaw, before the vision of this moment melted into another.
He lowered his face to hers and she gave up and let him kiss her.
His lips were so warm and soft. She shivered as they brushed hers, so gently, too gently.
Ainsley knew it was only her broken heart, telling her that this was real, but she was so starved for her mate that even a whisper of him was enough. A welcome warmth settled into her as he kissed away her sorrow.
When their lips were raw, he nuzzled her neck. Every nerve ending in her body thrummed with life.
She felt the rough warmth of his big hand, snaking under her nightgown. The pleasure of his hand on her breast was almost an agony. Ainsley could feel the blood rush to her nipple as his palm brushed against it.
She moaned and leaned into him, wishing she could literally press herself into him, and inhabit his body with him, so that they could never be separated again.
Erik sighed happily and his hand moved lower to curl around her hip, and pull her closer.
Soon Ainsley’s whole body was warm with lust. Erik nuzzled between her breasts, breathing soft kisses against them.
She arched up to meet his mouth and he suckled lazily on one nipple, then the other.
Soon, she felt the brush of his stubble against her belly. It brought tears to her eyes all over again, though she didn’t know why. Maybe it was because he was the only man who’d ever insisted on access to this softest part of Ainsley’s body, the part that she’d sucked in and cursed all her life.
And then she felt his hot breath on her thighs.
Slowly, so slowly, he pulled her panties down around her ankles.
Ainsley shivered in anticipation.
Erik groaned as he nuzzled her thighs again.
Holding her breath, Ainsley prayed that he wouldn’t disappear.
Instead of disappearing, he nudged her thighs wide, and began to pleasure her.
The movement of his mouth against her was a revelation, a symphony. Ainsley lost herself in the beauty of it.
Just before the crescendo, he crawled up to cage her head between his arms.
“I love you, Ainsley,” he whispered. “I love you and I’ll never let you go.”
“Erik,” she sighed.
When he sank into her she gasped at the reality of it. There was the pinching sensation at his incredible girth, the stretching pleasure, the delirious satisfaction of his weight on top of her - knowing he was holding her, losing himself in her.
He thrust slowly, whispering her name.
She wept and clung to him, for once not rushing him.
They made love as though they were delicate, as though they were people - not wolves.
And when it was over, Ainsley fell into a deep sleep.
Chapter 19
Ainsley awoke some hours later, as the sunlight from the window faded to pink.
Wistfully, she thought of her dream. Oh god, it had seemed so real.
With all her heart she wished it had just been a dream, but she had been visited by ghosts before.
She stretched, and rolled over.
Erik lay in the bed next to her. His eyes were closed, eyelashes brushing his cheeks in sleep.
Ainsley froze wondering if she were still asleep.
She didn’t feel asleep.
She sat up and looked around.
The room looked completely normal. There were no fuzzy edges at the corners. The temperature felt normal.
She felt awake.
Movement caught the corner of her eye. Erik rolled over to reach for the place where she had been sleeping.
He uttered a soft, sad sound as his hand touched her empty pillow. The noise seemed to wake him, and he looked up, blinking.
When he saw her, his eyes crinkled in a big smile.
“Say something,” Ainsley breathed.
“Good morning to you, too,” he said, one eyebrow raised.
A lightning bolt of joy electrified Ainsley and she fell on him, covering him with kisses.
“Gently,” he teased.
“I thought you were a ghost!” she accused him, pulling back to look into his laughing eyes, before pressing her mouth to his cheek again.
“What?” he asked.
“Never mind,” she muttered into his neck. “I missed you so much!”
“I can see that,” he said, smiling that heart-melting smile. “Sounds like you had some fun while I was away.”
A stormy look furrowed Ainsley’s brow.
“Ophelia said if I was an alpha in the wild, I would mate with as many wolves as I wanted,” she told him. “But I just wanted you.”
“You know actual wolves mate for life, right?” he asked.
“What?” Ainsley studied his eyes. Was he joking?
“Have you ever read a book about real wolves?” he asked her. “Or, like, looked them up online somewhere?”
“Shut up!” she said, and covered his mouth with her own.
He kissed her back, with a passion that belied his laid back demeanor.
“Ainsley,” he said, pulling back to look into her eyes again.
“I choose you,” she said. “For life. Whether you are a wolf or not. The Federation can go fuck themselves if they have a problem with that.”
“About that...” he began, but didn’t finish.
“What?” she asked.
She searched his eyes for answers. A flash of lupine amber made her heat skip a beat.
His wolf!
“No... But, how did you—?”
“It’s a long story,” he said, running a hand through his too-long hair. “And there are some people you need to meet.”
“Well, you can tell me all about it. If you can catch me,” Ainsley laughed.
She closed her eyes and called to her flame colored wolf.
Instantly, she melted into the silken animal, and splayed her front paws, tail in the air, taunting him.
Erik dropped into a shining black wolf so enormous he seemed to dwarf the room, and leapt after her.
Ainsley managed to sail over the bed just in time. She thundered sideways down the narrow stair case, skittered on the hardwood landing, and bolted out onto the back porch.
She heard him land in the grass behind her as she flew over the white picket fence and crashed into the woods.
If she made it to their place in the woods before he caught her, she would return to her human, and make love with him again in the pine needles under the gaze of their sycamore.
Chapter 20
Ainsley sat, basking in the quiet contentment.
Considering how much of her life was currently in turmoil, she knew she had no business doing so, but somehow, on this night, she was at peace.
Maybe it was the warm mug of peppermint tea snuggled in her right hand, or Erik gently gripping her left and rubbing his thumb across her knuckles. Or maybe it was the fact that her parents’ house seemed filled with life, for the first time since she came back to Tarker’s Hollow.
“Cah-MILLL-ahhhhh!” Rachel practically squealed, pigtails waiving with each syllable.
The Miller twins, and Zeke, thundered through her living room, chasing Camilla Parker Bowles. A few seconds later, they stormed through again, the small dog chasing them this time. Camilla’s owner, Sadie Epstein-Walker, had left the dog in Ainsley’s care while she visited her daughter in Boston for the holidays.
“Be gentle with her, kids!” LeeAnn called.
The children slowed down, and Camilla Parker Bowles launched herself in the air to land in LeeAnn’s lap.
LeeAnn Miller was curled up in Ainsley’s father’s chair, looking about as relaxed as Ainsley had ever seen her. Those tired gray eyes sparkled, and Ainsley knew LeeAnn too well now to think that it had anything to do with the glass of red wine on the table beside her.
“Zeke, get the thing out of Mama’s purse,” LeeAnn said to her son as she stroked the little dog.
He nodded and scampered off. A moment later, he returned with a small package wrapped in butcher paper and tied with a pink ribbon.
“This is for you, Ainsley,” LeeAnn said with a smile.
“Oh, LeeAnn,” Ainsley scolded. “You didn’t have to bring me anything.”
“After the Thanksgiving dinner you threw for us,” LeeAnn said. “And the way you’ve taken the pack in, found us homes, helped us get back on our feet...”
Ainsley reached out and placed her hand on LeeAnn’s.
“You’ve been through so much.” Ainsley didn’t say Jake’s name, though it rang through her pause. “Our allegiance with your pack may be the only thing keeping the Tarker’s Hollow wolves in Pennsylvania. I know the Federation doesn’t support it , and I know you lost a lot of good wolves from Copper Creek. But I thank you and yours for joining us, LeeAnn.”
“MacGregor says this has never been done before,” Erik said musingly, in a way that reminded Ainsley of her father’s warm contemplative tone. “Mixing two different packs, with two different alphas.”
Erik didn’t remember much about when his alpha had been drawn. By all accounts, he had been in pretty bad shape. But LeeAnn had told Ainsley the whole story. Ainsley had been overcome with gratitude at the impossible truth that her mate was alive and home, and wonder at the unconventional way his alpha had been drawn.
Though it might be viewed with suspicion by the Federation, no one could see the unique bond between Erik and Mary and believe it had been anything other than what it was: a sort of immaculate conception of choosing. A drawing born of necessity.
Mary’s love for Erik was unquestionable, even though it was certainly not the type of love usually associated with the drawing of an alpha. The surprising news had everyone buzzing, and had caused plenty of folks to rethink their ideas of how an alpha came to be.
Ainsley would never know whether the strength of Mary’s drawing gave Erik back his wolf, of if it had more to do with the death of Garrett Sanderson, the man who took it in the first place. She was more than happy to omit that little piece of information in her official reports to the Federation. Only a handful of people ever knew about Erik losing his wolf. As far as Ainsley was concerned that was just fine.
“Well, with all that’s happened, I think combining forces is the least of our worries,” LeeAnn said firmly.
“I finished!” Mary said, clutching a book to her chest and making a beeline down the stairs to Ainsley.
“What did you think?” Ainsley asked.
Mary had been reading The Once and Future King.
“I like the first part better than the second part,” Mary said.
“Honey,” LeeAnn said. “I need to talk with Ainsley for a few minutes. Can you have your book talk later?”
“Sure,” Mary nodded at her mom, then turned to Ainsley. “Can I read this one? It’s got lots of writing and underlines in it.”
Ainsley could tell by the worn brown cover that Mary held her father’s favorite copy of The Brothers Karamazov.
“Yes, just take it slow and put it away for later if it’s too hard. The beginning is supposed to be funny, okay? So don’t be surprised.”
The girl nodded and fell onto the carpet at Ainsley’s feet, her nose already deep in the book.
Ainsley reached down to twirl Mary’s messy blonde ponytail around one of her fi
ngers and the girl leaned back companionably against Ainsley’s shin.
LeeAnn reached over her daughter’s head to hand Ainsley the little package.
“I made it myself,” she said proudly.
Ainsley smiled and pulled the ribbon. Nestled in the brown paper was something small and pink. Ainsley couldn’t see anymore, as her eyes filled with tears.
Erik saved her, pulling the tiny dress from her hands.
“LeeAnn, it’s beautiful. But how did you know?” he asked.
“I just knew,” she said simply, as if that was all the explanation required. “And I’m just sure it’s going to be a little girl.”
Ainsley’s hands went to her middle, and the new life growing there. Besides Erik, only Grace and Cressida knew.
“Are you really going to have a baby?” Mary asked.
Ainsley smiled and nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“Can I babysit?” Mary asked in delight.
“I’m sure she can’t wait to meet her Aunt Mary,” Ainsley said.
“If she gets to be Aunt Mary, then I want to be Uncle Zeke!” Zeke exploded off the ground where he and the twins had been putting together a puzzle. Rachel and Ruth followed him.
“Can I be Uncle Rachel?”
“And I want to be Princess Esmeralda!” Ruth declared.
The front door burst open, cutting off the chatter, and a rush of cold air filled the room. Grace and Cressida bustled in together, arguing good-naturedly.
“I’m telling you, they’re supposed to be funny,” Cressida insisted. “There is no way anyone would ever be afraid of a guy in a hockey mask with claws for fingers.”
“First of all,” Grace said, squatting to pat Camilla Parker Bowles, who had launched herself off LeeAnn’s lap to flop down at Grace’s feet. “Those are two different guys, and the claws are on a glove. And secondly, not everyone can turn into a giant wolf whenever they want.”
Cressida smirked and walked past the hall closet to fling her jacket on the newel post.
Once again, Ainsley was pleasantly surprised at the unlikely friendship that had formed between the two women. She figured it must have been the result of the crazy night they’d battled the moroi together. They were like old war buddies.
