Before Midnight (13 page)

“Amazing,” she breathed. She gently stroked the silky fur of the horse’s nose. It whinnied and nudged harder into her hand, apparently eager to be petted. A thrill went through Loupe. It had been a long time since a horse had not shied away from her.

“What a good boy you are,” Loupe cooed. “Yes, you are. You are such a good boy.”

“It is shameful the way he’s throwing himself at you,” Loeg groused. “That miserable glue pot would as soon swallow me as give me the time of day!”

Loupe’s eyebrows shot up as the horse whipped its head around and bared its teeth at Loeg. Its eyes rolled until they were white orbs without pupils, glowing with a faint red light. Loeg growled back and it swung its head back to her, its eyes once again a watery blue. Loupe patted its nose.
A fairy horse.

“You can keep the beast,” Loeg snapped. “I’ll be stomped if I’m going to keep the ungrateful creature around me.”

“Oh,” Loupe breathed, eyeing the horse again. It nudged her with its huge head, almost knocking her off her feet. “I couldn’t take your horse from you.”

“What do I need a horse for?” Loeg asked. “I’ve got wings, remember?”

“But…then why do you have a horse?”

His eyes narrowed. “What, I’m not allowed to have a horse?”

One could make a study out of how to avoid arguing with a fey, Loupe decided. She glanced down at the ointment and then back to the horse. But dealing with them is still incredibly worth it.

Chapter 8

Etienne grasped the arms of his throne in a white-knuckled grip. He felt as if the wolf was in his throat, its claws digging in as it tried to crawl out of his body. He couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe. He fought not to look down at his body again, resisting the urge to be certain that he was in fact still human. With his wolf growing fainter and fainter as the days went by, the only time he could shift at all was during the full moon. Unfortunately, it was the night of the ball and Etienne had to resist the lunar call for as long as he could.

His beast was less than understanding.

It was as if his beast could sense that this was its last moon, its last chance to feel the grass under its paws and the wind in its fur before it was gone forever. It was taking every ounce of his strength, but Etienne was holding it in. Barely.

Waves of tension rolled over him, coming from the throne next to his. He didn’t need to look to know his father was watching him with concern etched across his features. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and Etienne turned to see his father gesture for the greeting line to stop. The procession of people who had been moving past the thrones, each one greeting the king and queen in turn, paused. His father leaned toward him.

“Etienne, go outside,” he said quietly. “You do not have to do this. Your mother and I will continue the greetings. If someone here is a
loup garou
we will find them. And no matter what happens, you will always be my son.”

Anger burned through Etienne like a bolt of lightening and he struggled against it. His father meant well. He was trying to comfort Etienne, but all Etienne wanted to do was rage against the curse the damned witch had dared to call a blessing. His senses were at full strength, his wolf ready to burst through his skin. It would be too easy to give in to the emotions raging inside him, to let his beast free and tear through the room looking for the
loup garou
he needed. Perhaps if all else failed, he would return to the witch and give his wolf one last hunt…

“Etienne.”

His mother’s voice tore him from the violent turn his thoughts had taken. Etienne forced himself to meet his mother’s eyes. Their conversation came back to him. She’d warned him this would happen, warned him not to bottle up his temper. He had to hold himself together. Straightening his spine, Etienne fixed his parents with his most reassuring smile. “Please, don’t worry so much. I am fine. I must have faith in what the witch said. Tonight I will find the person who will end this curse and return me to the prince I have always been.”

His father did not look convinced, but he leaned back in his seat, automatically reaching over to pat his wife’s hand. Etienne forced himself to look at his mother and smile. The worry in her eyes nearly undid him.

Curse the witch, Etienne thought bitterly. I’ve met hundreds of people and not one of them has held even the faintest scent of wolf. I—

His thoughts came to a stuttering halt. Without realizing it, he rose halfway out of his seat, his gaze locked on the entryway at the top of the grand staircase.

Loupe.
He didn’t know how he knew it was her. She looked so different it could have been another woman. The plain cotton dresses he’d always seen her in had been replaced by a ballgown that could not have been fashioned by human hands. The fabric glittered and glowed as she moved, a beautiful shine of pale blue. Her long golden hair had been swept up on top of her head, with only a few strands falling in soft curls around her face. And her face… Gone were the smudges he’d grown so used to seeing, put there by muddy wolf pups and self-conscious swipes with her dirty hands. His beautiful Loupe had been polished to an even more glorious shine. A diamond amongst coal.

Yes, she looked different, but Etienne knew without a shadow of a doubt that the woman hesitating at the top of the stairway was the same maiden he’d met in the woods. The one who had come to him in tears over a missing wolf pup, the one he’d kissed with more emotion than he’d ever shown a woman.

The kiss. Etienne thought of the fear in her eyes, the way she’d run away from him. He’d scared her then, he must be careful not to do so now. Besides that, he had no time for romance. He had to find a
loup garou,
had to assure that his werewolf blood would not be snuffed out by a blessing. He needed to be mingling with his people, not making a beeline for one lonely maiden.

Somehow he’d already crossed half of the room. With every step his blood grew hotter, his determination grew stronger, and his wolf grew more and more aware of the female calling to him. The people dancing around him slowly trailed off, all of them turning to stare at their prince as he practically dove for Loupe. His brain was a jumbled mess, incapable of thinking, only feeling. He hadn’t seen her in so long and he wanted her. Etienne couldn’t take his eyes off her, couldn’t make himself slow down, much less stop. He reached out and closed his hands around her hips, fingers tightening…

“A waltz!” called out the king.

The royal musicians leapt to do his bidding. An explosion of music muffled the mindless chatter and Etienne desperately swung Loupe into the dance. The energy that barreled him across the room toward her was redirected into the passion of the waltz. He held Loupe in his arms, his gaze locked on her eyes as he spun her, swung her, and all but dragged her around the dance floor. She stared back at him, her eyes wide. She held onto him as they danced, her body moving with his no matter how fast he spun them. Every once in a while she would glance down at his mouth. She licked her lips.

His muscles twitched as he fought the urge to swing her off her feet and run outside with her. The sight of her small pink tongue wetting her plump bottom lip brought the memory of their kiss roaring into his brain. He remembered her taste, the sounds of her moans, the feel of her body…. He wanted her.

Now.

Etienne led them, still dancing, to the archway leading to the balcony. His wolf drew up inside him, hungry for the carnality it could sense coming. He had to suck in a deep breath and remind himself to remain in control. He didn’t want to scare her, not again, not while he held her so close. Seconds later, a thick red curtain fell to block the archway. That, Etienne had no doubt, had been at his father’s behest.

Obviously his father thought Etienne had chosen to go with plan B, producing a werewolf heir before the witch’s blessing robbed him of that chance. Etienne wanted to brush that thought off as vulgar and uncouth. The wolf inside him thought it was a grand idea.

Once they were away from prying eyes, he drew them to a gentle stop. Loupe rested in his arms, her chest rising and falling with every rapid breath. Every inhale threatened to draw his attention to the perfect mounds of her breasts, but he couldn’t look away from her eyes. She still hadn’t said anything. He waited for her to pull away, but she stayed in his arms.
Waiting?

“Loupe,” he whispered.

Her body tensed in his arms, her eyes widening. Etienne wanted to be gentle, wanted to go slow so as not to scare her, but he was ravenous for her. He crushed her to his chest, his mouth descending on hers like a starving man. She gasped and he swallowed the sound, raising a hand to the back of her head to hold her to him. Satisfaction burned inside him as she raised her arms and wrapped them around his neck, clinging for dear life. His wolf howled inside him, demanding he claim her, mark her as his. His beast wanted a mate—wanted Loupe. His teeth ached to bite her, a visible mark that would show the world she belonged to him. A growl vibrated his chest and Loupe’s breath hitched. Her arousal perfumed the air and it was all Etienne could do not to shred the ballgown and rip it from her body.

With the last shred of willpower he had, Etienne tore his mouth from Loupe’s. He had to talk to her, had to know she wanted him, all of him. He couldn’t—wouldn’t—take her until she knew exactly what she was getting.

He sucked in huge lungfuls of air, fighting his beast so he could think. “Loupe,” he said hoarsely. “Loupe, I want you to stay.” He swallowed and tried to concentrate on making sense. Logic had abandoned him, his wolf too close to the surface to think past the overpowering primal urges seizing his body. “Come to my chambers with me.”

Loupe gasped, and the sound drew his attention to her mouth. Etienne tried to hold on to his control, but his wolf was growing more and more impatient. It did not want to talk.

“Etienne… Etienne, I can’t.”

Her words barely registered. Etienne buried his face in her neck, kissing down the smooth column of her throat. She smelled so good, so right. He had to have her. “You can’t what?” he asked, his brain barely following the conversation.

“I can’t…stay.”

Etienne fought to hold in the growl that wanted to trickle from his lips. He had to be gentle with her.

“Loupe, I know it seems like things are moving too fast,” he said carefully, his voice tight with the effort to speak. “I don’t expect you to want me the same way I—”

“No, Etienne, I do want you,” Loupe whispered. “Etienne…I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have come.”

Etienne opened his mouth, prepared to argue with her. A scent drifted past his nose and he froze.

“Etienne? What’s wrong?”

He grabbed her arms, adrenaline burning like acid through his veins. The desire he’d been fighting against fell back in the face of a new realization. He pressed his nose into the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.
Wolf.

“Etienne! What are you doing?”

“You smell of soap. You bathed before you came here.”

He pulled back in time to see Loupe blush. “What kind of a thing is that to say? Really, Etienne—”

“You also smell like wolf.”

The fear that lit up her eyes told him everything he needed to know. Etienne stared at her, too shocked to think straight. “You smell like wolf. You always smell like wolf. I thought it was just the pups. But you… Loupe, you are a werewolf, aren’t you? A
loup garou?
”

Her palms slammed into his chest, catching him by surprise. He grunted as he swayed back and she shrieked and jerked her arms free. Before he could gather his wits enough to react, she was clutching at her head.

“Loupe,” he gasped, panicking at the pain twisting her beautiful face. “Loupe, are you all right?”

Etienne had never actually witnessed a cursed werewolf changing. The only werewolves he’d ever known had been born werewolves, and they were taught from a young age what to expect from the change and how to handle it. First shifts were always done surrounded by family, in a safe place. None of that had prepared him for what he was witnessing now.

Loupe’s dress shimmered and wavered. Suddenly it disappeared, revealing her old plain cotton dress. Her hair fell out of the complicated twists and tumbled around her shoulders. Etienne’s eyebrows shot up as he realized she’d been glamoured. He didn’t have long to think about it.

The beast fought its way out of her. The long brown muzzle pushed out of her face in a stomach churning crunch of bones. Two sharp cracks echoed in the air as her legs bent backwards and she fell to the ground. Etienne fought not to cry out in empathy as he realized the level of Loupe’s terror and pain during her transformation. As a born werewolf, and a powerful alpha besides, Etienne could exert some control over the changes of other werewolves. He reached out to Loupe, desperate to see if he could ease her shift.

Stuck halfway through her change, Loupe’s eyes still rolled back. A high-pitched shriek escaped her convulsing vocal chords. The sound seized Etienne’s nerves and he jerked away from her. He turned back toward the red velvet curtain that shielded them from the ballroom. Even with the music still playing loudly, people were likely to have heard Loupe’s cry.

If anyone saw Loupe like this, there would be no saving her. There would be a coup if Etienne tried to save her, if his people thought he was protecting a
loup garou
over them. His wolf howled inside him, long and loud. A wave of heat roared through his blood and Etienne knew in that moment that he would do whatever it took to protect Loupe. No matter what.