Highland Shadows (Beautiful Darkness Series Book 1) (11 page)

“The next thing I remember is being naked in the hallway, the wolf having disappeared, with the taste of his blood in my mouth and more of it running down my chin. There are no words to describe the horror of that moment. I had to drag his body to my room, his neck lolling around, his throat open where my fangs had sunk in. I gagged again and again while I cleansed his blood from my body. And then, worst of all, I had to find my father and confess what I’d done. But he behaved as though I had broken a dish, not killed a man. He bid me not to worry and told me he’d take care of everything. To this day, I don’t know what he did with that man’s body or how he handled questions from his kin. But that was the last time I ever left my room.”

Alex’s brows came together. “But, Cora, don’t ye see? Ye didn’t lose control. Ye were attacked.”

She scowled. “I killed a man.”

Alex grabbed her arms. “Ye were provoked. He’s the monster, not ye. Ye were just protecting yourself.”

“Ripping out a man’s throat with my teeth is not protecting myself. ‘Tis barbaric.”

“He deserved it,” Alex snapped. “I’m now glad for the wolf. That man would have violated the last shreds of your innocence.” He raked his hand through his hair, then slid from bed, kneeling before her. “Look at me,” he implored. “Ye do not belong in a cage.”

She looked away.

“Nay, love. I need ye to trust me. The first day we met, I vowed to care for ye and protect ye, and I never break my oath. I’ll never let anyone harm ye, including yourself.”

A sob tore from her throat as she slid from the bed into his arms.

“I fear most that I am wicked,” she cried. “I do not wish to harm. But I have strength that I do not even know.”

He swiped at her tears. “Tell me this. Are ye still aware of yourself, of Cora, when the wolf takes ye?”

She nodded. “I am, but only if I don’t resist. ‘Tis still me, just a different me. But if I fight her and don’t win, then I am lost to pain and exhaustion. Only the wolf is left standing.”

“Have ye ever set the wolf free?” he asked.

“Nay,” she said abruptly. “Of course not. I fight her. I will continue to fight her until the day I die.”

He reached out and tucked a lock of flaxen hair behind her ear. “It occurs to me that it is not her ye fight but yourself. Ye and the wolf are one and the same. This is who ye are now.”

“But I do not wish it so. I want to go back to the way I was before.”

A sad smile curved his lips. “Of course ye do, so does anyone who has survived great loss. But ye can’t, Cora.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I accepted that long ago, but I cannot accept what I’ve become. I don’t know how?”

“When that wolf bit ye, he didn’t change your heart.”

He stood up then and pulled her to her feet. Her loose hair fell around her like a golden shroud. “I’ve spent my life surrounded by animals. Like people, what they long for most is love and respect. And would ye believe ye can give any living creature what it needs most, and all ye need is one thing—faith.”

“Faith,” she repeated.

He pulled her toward the door. “All ye need is faith.”

She easily tugged her hand free from his grasp. “Nay, Alex. I cannot go out there.”

“I do not mean to bring ye downstairs only to my room.”

“I’m wearing naught but a kirtle,” she said.

He shrugged. “We’re married, and I promise ye’re dressed right for what I have in mind.”

“Alex!” she exclaimed, blushing.

He smiled, his mismatched eyes glinting with mischief. “Have faith.” He held out his hand for her to accept. Slowly, she slipped her warm hand into his. They walked down the hall and into his room. He pushed through the door and crossed to the far side with her in tow.

“Look,” he said, pointing to a tapestry.

She shot him a confused glance. “’Tis mine.” She grazed her fingers down the mermaid’s hair.

“Look behind it,” he said.

She pulled back the fabric and uncovered a hidden door. He reached around her and pushed it open. “Follow me.”

They descended a narrow, winding stairwell. When they arrived at the bottom, Alex opened another door. “’Tis built into the castle wall and blends perfectly. Few know of its existence.”

She stepped outside, but he urged her back. “Remove your kirtle and set it on the bottom step.”

Her arms crossed over her chest. She looked at him as though he’d gone mad.

He grazed her cheek with the back of his fingers. “Trust me, Cora. Ye have to let go. Ye must let yourself feel again.”

His hands stroked the soft skin of her neck. He hooked his fingers under the straps of her kirtle and eased it down over her shoulders. Pressing a kiss to her lips, he tugged the fabric further, exposing her breasts to the night air and then her waist. Soon, the fabric lay discarded around her ankles. “Ye’re exquisite,” he whispered as he gazed upon her naked beauty in the moonlight. She blazed in his arms. Her eyes shone brighter by the second. With a smile stretching his lips wide, he backed away.

“Run,” he said. “Run the sorrow from your heart. Only do not go too far, and stay clear of the forest.”

“But—” she began.

“Nay,” he said. “Don’t think. Just feel.”

~ * ~

Surrounded by darkness and fueled by Alex’s acceptance, Cora’s bare toe touched the fine layer of snow. Her eyes scanned the moors and distant forest. She took a deep breath, and then she started running. Icy wind caressed her skin. Exhilaration coursed through her as her body flexed and stretched. She closed her eyes, summoning her courage and leapt forward. The animal within broke free, swallowing her human form.

Four gleaming white paws hit the snow. The scent of Alex lingered in her nose, fueling her courage. She started out at a trot, her wide, front paws reaching out and propelling her forward while her back toes dug into the snow. Her stride lengthened. She wanted to gallop, but Alex’s scent had grown faint. She slowed to a stop and turned. Darkness was no barrier. She could see him standing, straining still to see her. She smelled his excitement and worry. Her will needed no words. Emotions alone were her guide, and at that moment, her soul was torn. The keep represented safety, but the open moors promised relief.

He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Run” he shouted.

She threw her head back and howled, baring her soul to the night. She launched off her back toes and cast off all control. Currents of cold air streamed off her back and filled her massive lungs. The snow and frozen earth yielded to her thunderous stride. Boundless power coursed through her veins as she soared over the moors.

Her sleek body had no limits. She would not tire, or weaken. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply and reveled in the glory of the present. She had broken free from her cage, and for the first time in so many years, she let her feelings go.

Cresting hill after rolling hill, she imagined that she streaked past apparitions of her loved ones. Her sister smiled and waved, spurring her on to run faster. Her mother beamed at her with pride. They were freed now from pain and terror and lived on inside her heart.

She skidded to a stop and shook her human form free. “They live on in me,” she said out loud.

Standing tall, she stretched her hands toward the endless stars dotting the sky. A gust of wind lifted her hair and caressed her bare skin. Now, she realized all that her fear had hidden. She was still her mother’s daughter. Alex was, indeed, right. Her body had changed but not her heart. She smiled up to the heavens and spun around and around with delight. The release of her inhuman strength had expelled her pain and fear. All that remained was life—hers—and in that moment, standing beneath a blanket of stars, she did not doubt that her life still had value.

She froze dropping her arms to her sides. Inhaling deeply, she scanned her surroundings. An aroma she could only describe as old death crept inside her nose and sent a shiver of fear up her spine. Alex had warned her not to go too far. Once more, she shook her wolf free and launched off her back toes toward Sonas Castle and Alex’s awaiting arms.

~ * ~

Serge straightened the soft, fur-trimmed collar of his cloak as he tilted back his head to gaze up at the myriad stars flickering in the night sky.

“How much longer must we wait?” Emmanuel said.

Mouth downturned, his gaze darted to his newest . “Unless you wish to remark on the beauty of night, please refrain from speaking.” Releasing a heavy sigh, Serge expelled his companion’s impatience. Emmanuel had yet to learn the true beauty of immortality. Time ruled humans. It was the real villain, ending far more lives than vampires ever could.

He reached out a finger and connected stars to make constellations. Next, he traced the sloping hills. Blanketed by moonlight, the snow assumed an ethereal blue glow that made him feel as if—

“Remind me again why we’ve come all this way, when we could’ve had our pick of pets in Edinburgh,” Emmanuel said.

Serge’s hand flashed out, crushing Emmanuel’s face. He cried out and collapsed to the ground, his hands cradling his broken jaw.

“That should shut you up.” Serge turned his back on the moors and studied the forest. Standing near the tangled brink, he savored the grotesque splendor of the trees. Wickedness had infected their roots with greed. Over the years, he had watched gentle leaves give way to cruel, twisted limbs, which blocked out moonlight and wove impenetrable webs. His gaze wandered over the thick, black expanse. There was an unexpected beauty in its harshness that pleased him to no end.

He glanced down at Emmanuel who had grown silent. Slowly, his dented face filled out as crushed bone mended.

“Do not try my patience again,” Serge warned. “Lest you find yourself broken beyond repair. Anyway, I cannot understand your desire to return to the city. I grow weary of stone. It feels too much like a coffin.” He stretched his arms wide. “Here one can breathe.” He closed his eyes and made the motions of inhaling, imagining his useless lungs filled with wintry, Highland air. “Besides, Highlanders make the best slaves. Strong and courageous, they’re a delight to break.”

Cracking tree limbs drew Serge’s attention. “Here is Hamish now.” He offered Emmanuel a hand up, but angry, blue eyes locked with his. Serge brushed the back of his fingertips down Emmanuel’s newly healed jaw, ignoring his companion’s fierce scowl. “Forgive my temper. I admit I was cruel.”

Emmanuel stood, a sneer twisting his fine features. “You ensured my forgiveness when you made me. You are all I have.”

Serge shrugged, sweeping his long, blond hair off his shoulders. “In time, you will know the gift you’ve been given.”

He turned his attention back to the wood. Cracking noises persisted, growing louder with every passing second. Then a large fist shot like lightning out from the trees, followed by a bare foot, which splintered through a thick trunk. The rest of the man emerged, breaking free from the forest’s grip. He had massive shoulders, red hair softened by moonlight, and wore naught but a plaid slung low on his hips.

“Come see my stock,” he said to Serge without ceremony.

Serge smiled at Hamish Munro. He was his sort of werewolf: beautiful and wicked to the core. Stepping into the wood, Serge spied a large cage deep inside. Three men peered through the irons, all tall and broad of shoulder. His eyes raked over their naked bodies, admiring their thick muscles. When he drew even closer one snaked out his hand and grabbed Serge’s cloak before he saw it coming.

Serge smiled. “Impressive.” Then Hamish reached inside with a narrow club and jabbed the man hard in the ribs.

“Take your pick,” Hamish said. “Their soul’s are too pure for my purposes.”

“What is your name?” Serge asked the man who had grabbed him. He stared hard at Serge but did not reply.

Serge curled his fingers around the bars and leaned close. He looked the Highlander over, pausing at length to study his soft amber eyes. “You do have a good soul, Highlander. I can tell. I look forward to ruining you. Now, tell me your name.”

With a defiance Serge had come to expect and appreciate from Highland stock, the man stepped forward. “I’ll not,” he snarled.

A slow smile spread Serge’s lips wide. Then his fangs dropped.

The man’s eyes widened in alarm. “Kendrick,” he said, scrambling away from the bars.

“Good boy, Kendrick.” He retracted his fangs. “I’ll take this one,” he said to Hamish. “I like his spirit.”

When Hamish did not respond, he swung around. His host had stepped free from the trees and had trained his ear toward the moors. Serge joined him. “What do you hear?”

“A pounding heart, racing breaths.”

Serge scanned the hills. His ears lacked Hamish’s range, but his powerful eyes easily caught the movement of a pure white wolf racing over the moors.

Hamish growled.

“Do not move,” Serge warned, dropping his fangs and grazing the points across Hamish’s bare shoulders. He froze. “Put them away,” Hamish said. “I’ll be no trouble.”

“I thought not.” Serge turned his attention back to the white wolf. He smiled. The thrill of her race coursed through his veins. His body pulsed with life—a sensation seldom enjoyed except when feeding. Then the wolf skidded to a halt and in a flash changed into a woman who defied beauty. Her sleek body curved in the moonlight and waves of blond hair, blonder even then his, tumbled down her back, grazing the snow at her feet.