Before Midnight (17 page)

“Oh, is that a piece of your arrow?” she cried out. She crowded the wound, blocking Danette’s view with her body.

Danette darted forward, the dagger in her hand drooping as she peered closer at Loupe’s wound.

“Where?” she demanded.

Loupe lunged forward and grabbed Danette’s arm. Taking advantage of her stepsister’s shock, she jerked the limb to her mouth and bit down as hard as she could. Blood gushed into her mouth and Danette screamed. Loupe grunted as her stepsister kicked her in the stomach. She released her arm and fell back.

“You bitch! What have you done?”

Blood coated Loupe’s tongue and without meaning to, she swallowed and then licked her lips to gather more. Danette’s eyes widened, her lips parting. A smiled lifted the corner of Loupe’s mouth as a pleasant buzzing feeling erupted along her skin. She felt…alive.

“Better go wash that wound, sister dear,” she said softly, hardly recognizing her own voice. It held the edge of a growl, deeper and threatening in a way it had never been before. “Else come the full moon tonight, you just might find yourself running from your mother.”

Danette’s face went white as a sheet. Her knees trembled and satisfaction swelled inside Loupe as her stepsister scrambled for the sink to wash the wound.

“What have you done? What have you done?”

She shrieked the question over and over and Loupe couldn’t help it. She laughed. A more poetic justice she couldn’t have asked for. The blood in her mouth was warm and tasted better than a fine wine. She thought of Etienne, thought of him out there with her stepsister, on their way to the palace to complete the sham of a marriage. The thought brought a rush of fury and Loupe was only slightly shocked when a howl spilled from her lips. She had just enough time to smile at the look of terror on Danette’s face before the change came.

Loupe wasn’t afraid this time. The wolf didn’t roar from some gaping void inside her. It rose, summoned by the taste of blood. She could feel it, practically see it as it came, slowly to the forefront. For a moment they were both there, both in her body, her mind. She thought of Etienne and she could have sworn the wolf recognized the mental picture of him. She concentrated on the love she had for him, her desire to be with him, to protect him. With those thoughts glowing brightly in her mind, she gave her body over to the wolf.

Find him,
she whispered to it.

The transformation was smoother, but still strange to see. As her human consciousness faded to the back of her mind, Loupe noticed her face bulging outward, her mouth stretching into the jaws of a wolf. Her body ached as the change shimmered over the rest of her form. Bones cracked and reformed, but it didn’t hurt, not like it had before. Loupe shook her leg as something touched it. Something cold closed around her injured foot, but she couldn’t see what it was. Her body pitched forward on new legs and she braced herself for the pain of landing on her injured foot.

The pain never came. Her body twisted and rippled as she was fully encompassed by her wolf form. The world was swallowed up, rational thought replaced by pure emotion. The last clear thought Loupe had was one word:

Mate.

Chapter 12

Etienne stared out the window. He wanted to leap out of the carriage. He wanted to tear through the forest as fast as his human legs could carry him to get back to Loupe. If he rushed, he could get to her in time. Before she bled to death. Before her stepfamily grew impatient and killed her. He stared at the sky. There were hours of daylight left. Hours before his beast could be free. For the last time.

“If you try to escape, my sister will kill her.”

Arabelle’s voice grated along his nerves. He tore his gaze from the passing scenery to glower at her. She didn’t even flinch.

“You don’t scare me, Your Highness,” she said calmly. “My mother wasn’t kidding when she said we come from a family of warriors. I killed my first wolf when I was five years old. I’ve killed two with my bare hands.” She turned away to look out her own window. “My mother will get what she wants. She always does.”

Something in her voice caught Etienne’s attention. A small note of…sadness? Resignation? He studied his jailer more closely.

Arabelle wasn’t an unfortunate looking woman. Her red hair was coiled in tight curls, all gathered in a beret of some kind at the back of her head. Her eyes were hazel, an interesting mix of brown and green. Dressed in an expensive looking pale green dress with a dark green fitted bodice, she could probably have her choice of men. Etienne paused, wondering if she had a beau. If she did, surely the man would have something to say about this arrangement?

He took a deep breath and forced his anger back. His temper wouldn’t help him here. If he was going to escape to get back to Loupe, he had to be calm. It took several minutes to get to a place mentally where he could speak without spewing venom. Images of Loupe, terrified and bloody, kept interfering. Still, brute force wouldn’t work right now. Though he was certain he could overpower his captor, he had no way of making sure Loupe did not come to harm. He would have to find another way.

“It will go easier on you if you just accept your fate,” Arabelle commented.

Etienne clenched his hands into fists, breathing deeply through his nose before responding. “If you had any idea what it means to love, you would know that’s impossible.”

“Don’t you dare tell me I don’t know what it means to love!”

Like a stick of dynamite exploding in the side of a mountain, Arabelle’s calm façade crumbled. She fixed Etienne with a glare that should have set him ablaze where he sat.

Etienne pushed harder. “What do you know of love? If you had any idea what true love was, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me, on your way to be
married.
”

There. He saw it, as clear as the sun on a cloudless day. The flicker in Arabelle’s eyes when he said “married.” He’d seen that look before in the eyes of women who’d married for position or power instead of love. A flash of a love that might have been.

“It is not my name you want to see next to yours on a marriage certificate, is it?” he asked quietly. He forced the tension from his shoulders, trying to make himself as unimposing as possible.

For a moment, he thought she’d spit at him, or just turn away. Instead, her throat worked as she swallowed.

“No,” she whispered. “It is not your name I want for myself.”

“Why are you not sitting in a carriage with him, then?”

Arabelle looked away. “My mother chose you to be my husband. However temporarily,” she added, though somewhat half-heartedly.

Etienne remembered the startled look on Arabelle’s face during her mother’s announcement of her plan. “Surely if you would just tell her that you love another, she would have sent your sister?”

Arabelle laughed, a harsh, humorless sound that spoke volumes. “I did tell her and that is precisely why she chose me to marry you. Mother believes she is killing two birds with one stone.”

Etienne fought the urge to crow. He’d found gold. Arabelle was in love with another man and she was angry with her mother for disapproving of it. “Then your mother does not approve of this young man,” he clarified, trying to twist the knife a little deeper.

She shook her head.

“Surely her opinion does not matter more than yours?”

“Apparently it does.”

Etienne smiled, certain he’d found the key to his freedom. “Well, fortunately for us both, it does not matter more than mine,” he said briskly.

Arabelle turned to look at him, a frown pulling down the corners of her mouth. “I’m sorry?”

Etienne stood and turned to the seat he’d been sitting on. He raised the cushion to reveal a compartment underneath. After picking through several envelopes, he pulled one out, along with a pen.

“What is that?” Arabelle demanded.

“A marriage contract.”

Her jaw dropped. “You carry them with you?”

Etienne gave her a sheepish look. “You will find that most young men of noble rank carry them. A ready marriage contract has saved the name of more than one family in the history of this kingdom.”

“Why didn’t you tell us that earlier?” she demanded. “We wouldn’t have had to travel to the palace tonight at all!”

Etienne stared at her, raising an eyebrow. “And I would wish to make things easier on my blackmailers because…?”

Arabelle had the good grace to blush. “Point taken.” She frowned again. “Well, what are you doing now then?”

Etienne sat down and pulled the contract out of the envelope. “Your full name please?”

Arabelle raised her eyebrows. “Arabelle Lynn Tessier.”

He filled in her name. Then he signed his name at the bottom, leaving the space for “husband” empty. He held up the contract.

“Arabelle, you are now in possession of a marriage contract signed by the prince. All you have to do is have your young man sign his name in this spot,” he gestured, “and have a witness sign their name beside mine at the bottom.” He offered her a rueful smile. “Not that I think you would ever force a man to marry you, but having a witness is traditional.”

Arabelle stared at him, apparently too shocked to appreciate his attempt at humor. “I don’t understand.”

Etienne paused. This was it, the moment that had to count. Loupe was waiting for him, frightened and hurt back at her stepmother’s home. If he couldn’t convince his captor to let him go, then he would only get farther and farther away from Loupe. He sighed, deciding to be completely forthright.

“Arabelle, we are both in love with someone else. Now, we both have the means to marry our loves instead of going along with your mother’s cruel plan. It is time for you to decide what you want your future to look like—and who you want in it.”

Arabelle’s mouth opened and closed several times. She stared down at the contract and then up at him. After what felt like an eternity, she took the paper.

“Done,” she whispered.

Etienne gave her a sincere, brilliant smile. He leaned out the window of the carriage. “Maurice, stop here!”

Maurice obligingly pulled off the road, close to the trees. Etienne smiled at Arabelle and held out a hand to help her from the coach. Lifting her chin, Arabelle fisted her skirts and descended without his aid.

“You can dispense with the smile, Your Highness. There is no sense pretending we are friends. I got what I wanted and you got what you wanted. Let us leave it at that and hope my mother never makes us regret our choice.”

Etienne bowed slightly and leaped back into the carriage. Pulling up the same seat, he retrieved a crossbow and a sling of arrows. Maurice knew better than to question him when he sprang from the carriage and plunged into the woods.

Etienne stalked toward Loupe’s house. He would approach from the woods and see if he couldn’t lure the stepsister outside. Unlike her besotted sister, the other maid had seemed as bloodthirsty as her mother. Perhaps if he could tempt her with prey.

His mind zipped back to the wolf that used to stand guard over the pups in Loupe’s absence. If he could lure that wolf out with him, get it to distract the stepsister enough for him to get a clear shot… But he had to hurry. Madame Tessier would return soon.

The site of the clearing where he and Loupe had met tightened Etienne’s chest. He could hear Loupe’s laughter, see her beautiful smile as she watched the pups cavorting in the water.

A weight plowed into Etienne and the breath whooshed from his body. He rolled over in shock to find himself under the weight of a sleek brown wolf. He struggled to sit up and winced as the wolf’s claws dragged down his arms as it scrabbled to keep hold of him. Its claws left a burning pain in their wake and Etienne hissed. Before he could gather his wits to throw the beast off of him, the rush of adrenaline increased exponentially.

Etienne tensed at the heart-pounding surge of energy that consumed him. The powerful force swirled inside of him, touching every crevice of his soul as it rose up his throat and escaped from his mouth as he dropped his head back and howled.

As the last note faded from the air, he dropped his head, staring in wonder at the beast in front of him. His own wolf stood vibrant and tangible inside him. He felt as he had before the blessing—better even. He knew with an unerring certainty that he could change form if he wanted to, become a wolf even without the aid of the full moon above him.

“Loupe,” he gasped, his skin buzzing with the return of his beast to full power. He laughed and grabbed the wolf by the head. He concentrated on looking beyond the beast’s face, inside to where he knew Loupe lay hidden. Just as his father had taught him when he was young, he “reached” inside her and took her hand, pulling her free from her beast’s body.

 It was the first time Etienne had ever pulled the beast from a cursed werewolf. His skin tightened as Loupe seemed to get “caught” on her own bones as he pulled her out. He slowed down, easing her out more gently. It hurt him to think of the pain Loupe must feel during the change, how she must struggle against the beast. He would teach her to make a smoother transition.

As her human visage finally parted the beast’s face, and the flesh in his arms was human once more, Etienne breathed a loud sigh of relief.