The Amulet (19 page)

Then, he felt it. Her nipples grew hard and her back arched as she moved her hips with his. The ripples spread through her body and she clenched around his erection. Her body tensed as she reached the top and then released as she plummeted over the edge. Her thoughts turned to chaos as she and the wolf joined the same moment she reached the edge and they soared over it together. He felt her muscles pulsate around him and he lost himself inside her. He collapsed into her arms, satisfied yet wanting more. He kissed her lips gently and saw when she opened her eyes, not the emerald eyes he expected, but the golden eyes of the wolf staring back at him.

The wolf was jubilant inside her but Alyssa could not get her back in the cage she had built for the beast. She saw Nevar's eyes narrow slightly as he looked at her and it broke the cloud of euphoria she had been on. As she fell from the heavens, the beast slowly crept back into the depths, disappointed.

With the wolf safely tucked away, she saw Nevar's expression soften. She entwined her body with his and rested her head in the hollow of his chest. The silence of his heart no longer bothered her as the urge to sleep crept up on her. She fought off her weariness as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

Nevar held her close and smoothed the hairs that had gone wild from their recent encounter. "You need to sleep, Alyssa. You have been through a lot and your body needs rest."

"I don't want to sleep," she said. It was partly true. She wanted sleep, but she feared the dreams that came to her when she slept.

"I'm right here, 'Lyss. I will protect you."

It was the first time he had ever called her by her nickname. She looked deeply into his eyes and saw sincerity there. He was willing to fight for her. She was safe with him and nothing would harm her as long as he lived. It was a powerful and overwhelming emotion, but it also calmed her fears and allowed her to give into her exhaustion. Laying naked in his arms, she soon fell fast asleep.

The fire was getting low in the hearth. There was one more piece of firewood left in the shed. She picked it up and took it into the house. The night was growing colder and she shivered against the brisk wind. She opened the door to the house and went inside. It was only a little warmer away from the wind.

She put the last log on the fire and stoked the flames until it caught. The soup she had been cooking was growing cold without the warmth of the flames. She heard coughing coming from the bed behind her. She moved to the side of the bed where a once beautiful woman was trying to sleep.

The sickness was robbing her of her beauty. Her auburn hair was streaked with grey and there was age hanging around the amber eyes that had been full of youth just a month before. In her current condition, she would not survive the cold night without the fire. If they were going to make it through the night, she was going to have to collect more wood herself.

"Do not fret, Mother," she said as she kissed her forehead. Her fever was still on her. "I shall return shortly with more wood for the fire." She put an extra blanket on her mother to keep her warm and grabbed her cloak.

"Katarina?" Her voice was frail and uneven.

"Yes, Mother?"

"Stay away from the Western Wood!"

"Yes, Mother, I will." There were rumors of huge animals that roamed the Western Wood, but Katarina had never seen any. She had gone there many times and had not seen so much as a hare. Fear kept people out, which meant firewood and berries were in abundance. Ten minutes in the Western Woods would yield more than an hour anywhere else.

She pulled her cloak tightly around her shoulders and fastened it in place, picked up the firewood basket she had woven, and headed out into the cold. She was happy it had not snowed yet this year, but from the look of the clouds above her, it wouldn't be long.

The woods to the north had a few sticks that would serve as kindling, but she found nothing that would burn long enough to get them through the night, even after a half hour of searching. She bit into her lip hesitantly, then decided. She headed west and found the path that led into the Western Wood. She knew the area well and had no trouble filling her basket.

"This place is not so frightening. I know not why they fear it so," she told the trees. With her basket now full, she turned and searched for the path that led back to the village. It was growing darker and the winds were howling through the trees. She looked up and felt something cold and wet land on her cheek. It had begun to snow. She must hurry home before the chill set in.

The path was just behind the next set of bushes just a few feet ahead of her. Her cloak caught in a bramble bush and she bent to untangle herself. She heard a twig snap behind her and looked up. She saw nothing but the figures of trees stalking the night. Returning to her task, she freed her cloak from the briars and picked up her basket.

When she turned back towards the path, she was met by two golden yellow eyes and white gleaming teeth. It had to have been a bear. It was tall enough on four legs to look her in the eyes. She pulled a stick from her basket and waved it around threateningly, hoping to scare the creature off.

The eyes narrowed at her and she heard a ferocious growl erupt from the beast. Standing between her and her path to safety, the creature advanced on her. Stepping out of the shadows, she was able to see the silhouette of the biggest wolf she had ever seen. His fur was the color of rust and it covered a heavily muscled frame.

She froze in fear. She had to go forward and deliver the firewood or her mother would not make it through the cold night. Silently, she offered a prayer to the heavens. The wolf stopped its advance. She had not moved and the wolf was now close enough to touch. He seemed to be sizing her up in a new way.

He lifted his head and howled into the night and was answered by several more calls further away. She began to hope that she was not staring her death in the face. The wolf looked at her as if he had heard her and she swore she heard him chuckle, but tossed the idea aside for fear she was going mad. He put his head down as though he were inviting her to pet him.

She looked behind him, at the path that would lead her home. She decided to make a run for it and bolted. She didn't dare look back, but she knew the wolf was on her heels. She should drop the basket of wood, but she was carrying her mother's life in her hands. If she were going to die, she would die fighting to save her mother.

She heard a snarl and then she felt white hot pain as teeth ripped into her shoulder and heard the crack of breaking bones. She was shoved forward by the weight of the wolf. The pressure on her shoulder released and the weight lifted off of her aching body. Somewhere in her mind, she wondered why she wasn't dead. Why had he left her alive to die slowly in the cold?

She struggled to get up, her left arm hanging uselessly at her side. The pain was enormous and there was blood staining her cloak. She glanced around, looking for the wolf. He was heading deeper into the woods, seeming not to care that she was alive. He turned his head back to stare at her for a moment. Then, he disappeared into the shadows as though he had made his point and had business elsewhere to attend.

She winced in pain and thought perhaps he was punishing her for disobeying her mother. If this was the price for misbehaving, she would be angelic for the remainder of her years. With her good arm, she gathered her spilled firewood and hefted the basket to her hip. On her way home, she contemplated how to tell her mother how her arm was broken.

As she stumbled towards the house, the pain in her arm had spread throughout her body. Her mother was asleep, but it was cold enough to see her breath rising weakly from the bed. She struggled to get the fire going again, fighting through the pain. Once the flames roared to life, she collapsed near the hearth where she laid for what seemed like days until the pain finally subsided enough for her to succumb to exhaustion.

The tavern was full tonight. The scent of booze and sweat was heavy in the air and it wrinkled her nose. She sniffed at the ale in front of her, but it was only a front. It dulled the wits, and she needed hers to be sharp. The prey she sought was cunning and no mere mortal. She knew he was seeking her master, but she aimed to find him first. But the man who entered the tavern was not the one she was seeking.

He was human, muscular, and gorgeous as far as mortals went. He would make a fine wolf, indeed. She caught his eye and turned on her charm, flashing a seductive smile and fluttering her lashes. He stalled his approach by sliding up to the barkeep, who quickly brandished a bottle of brandy and poured him a glass. A few coins slid across the bar, well more than was necessary, and then he gave her a dashing smile from across the room.

So, he was to be coy with her, she smiled to herself. He intrigued her, so she decided to play his game. She tipped her glass, appearing to take a shot of courage. She put the mug down and left the table she was sitting at to approach the golden-haired philanderer. The barman poured a glass of brandy as she approached and slid it to her. That dog, she thought. He was cocky. This would almost be too easy.

"Ale is unbefitting a woman of your beauty," he said. "Your lips deserve the sweet caress only I can offer, but fine brandy serves almost as well."

He was as smooth as silk, and his words flattered her. She thought maybe she would like to keep this one for herself. "I certainly hope your brandy lives up to the expectation," she replied.

His smile was dazzling and mischief shone in his eyes. "I should hope not. I would like nothing more than to prove it inferior."

Her smile in return was genuine. "A toast then? To bad brandy," she lifted her glass to him.

"And sweet kisses," he clinked glasses with her.

She decided to taste his brandy. It was sharp on her tongue, but it went down smoothly. The woody notes lingered on her lips even after the glass was empty. She felt the sharpness fade. The edges of her vision were slightly blurred, but this man had a lot to live up to. She saw him motion to the barman for another round. He was playing a dangerous game. She smiled at him and let her lashes sweep her cheeks as the heat rushed to her head.

"This brandy carries a large shadow for you to fill, Sir."

"Alexander Wolfe, at your service madam."

She held out her hand to him. "A pleasure, Mr. Wolfe. I am Katarina Syrena."

He held her hand as gently as though it were a delicate bird and kissed it with soft lips. "No, milady, the pleasure is mine entirely."

Alyssa awoke to the gentle petting of Nevar's fingers on her chest. It took a moment to put her mind back together. Had it been a dream? It had felt real. Xander's kiss had felt like it was meant for her. Even her shoulder felt a lingering pain as though she had suffered the bite of the wolf. Nevar's lips pressed against her neck and sent a wave of shock through her.

She had fallen asleep naked in his arms and had given herself to him. The reality seemed a fantasy more than her dream. Her eyes fluttered open and were met with dark pools of chocolate. They looked so softly at her that it was a wonder she didn't melt in his arms. "You slept well," he stated. "Even your thoughts seemed to sleep."

"I wasn't dreaming, then?"

He looked thoughtful for a moment. "No, I heard nothing at all in your sleep. You had a nightmare?"

"No, not a nightmare, but it felt so real I thought I had walked the planes again."

Nevar was quiet for a moment while he considered her words. "I would have called you back if you had," he sounded concerned. "I had rather hoped to keep you here a little longer, but I suppose we should check on Jessie. We left her in Xander's care."

"Oh! Jessie! I hope she's alright!" She had been so caught up in the dream about Katarina that poor Jessie had been pushed to the back of her mind. She got out of bed and started to get dressed.

Xander was sitting lazily in a leather chair, thumbing through a book he had probably already read a dozen times in his life. He kept a vigilant eye on the woman sleeping across from him. It pained him to see her tossing and turning as the fever broke. He knew all too well the pain she was in. She would need to get up soon. The gene was spreading quickly now and she needed to let the wolf stretch or risk being consumed by it.

He marked his page and put down his book. In two strides, he was at her side. He touched her shoulder to wake her, watchful of her claws should she perceive him as a threat. She rolled to face him and opened her eyes. It was then he saw the full beauty in her.

Her rich brown hair fell in gentle waves past her shoulders and her eyes were hazel green jewels. Her pale skin made her look like a rare porcelain doll. The were gene had enhanced her natural beauty already. She was progressing quicker than he thought. At this rate, she would be a full were in just over a week.

"It's Xander, right?"

"At your service, ma'am," he made a little bow to her. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"If it's not too much trouble, a glass of water would be nice. My throat feels pretty raw."

"Of course," he answered. He pulled a pitcher from a nearby table and refilled her glass. He had been anticipating her needs and prepared it earlier but the ice had not yet melted. "I'm afraid your throat may feel that way for a while," he warned her.