Lev’s powerful legs ate miles of mountain one stride at a time. Madeline wasn’t a passive passenger. The journey was rough. The path tangled with branches and vines. Her body moved with his along every twist and turn. She dodged and ducked and pressed her face into Lev’s neck to avoid sticks and briars.
His kisses had woken something inside her. Not memories, but a longing to remember.
She still saw his savagery, but now she wasn’t blinded to other things—he had saved the horses from the wolves by letting them go, he had spared the wolves by not attacking them while they assembled and he had waited for her.
No. She couldn’t think about that other waiting. The thousand years of waiting was too overwhelming to contemplate. She could only focus on the days of waiting since they’d first stood face-to-face in the tower room.
He’d waited for her kiss.
And he wasn’t a calm and patient man. His wait burned. His wait throbbed. His wait trembled and shook with passion and fury. Yet still, it had been her touch that gave him permission to act on what they both desired.
He had waited for her. He had waited for that touch.
She couldn’t reconcile the truths she had learned about Lev Romanov with the truths she knew about the white wolf. Madeline needed the memories she’d lost to help her understand the creature who carried her through the Carpathian woods. Was he a man lost to the beast, or a beast lost within the man? The heat of Lev’s exertion caused his shirt to dampen beneath her hands. By midday, she could see moisture trickling down his neck.
And still he ran.
He wasn’t an ordinary man, but he was made of muscle and bone, as she was. Her hips screamed, and her thighs trembled from actively riding his every move all morning. Her own hair was damp on her head. Tendrils of moisture-darkened scarlet tumbled into her eyes.
She didn’t have memories to help her understand this man who pushed himself so ferociously, but she suddenly knew he would run until he fell down dead if she didn’t make him stop. He wouldn’t be able to fight the marked Volkhvy who had kidnapped their son if he killed himself to get to them.
“I can’t hold on much longer, Lev. You have to stop,” Madeline said. She didn’t shout, but rather murmured into his ear. Her lips brushed his earlobe. She tasted salt. She wasn’t sure if it was his perspiration or her own. “I have to rest. I need water and food.”
She was certain if she had told him that he needed to stop for himself, he would have ignored her. Maybe as the wolf, he had done this. Run until he collapsed, and then run some more with no one around to remind him to eat and drink and rest. No wonder he’d been lost to the beast for so long. While she’d been sleeping with Trevor, Lev had been alone. Left to the lonesome drive of the wolf in his heart.
“I’ll be worthless when we get there if I’ve died from dehydration,” Madeline said.
Lev’s speed dropped. He had sprinted all morning. Now his run changed to a lope, which changed to a fast walk. Madeline released his neck and slid to her numb feet when his walk slowed enough to allow it. She took several strides to catch her balance. She was propelled by the momentum, though Lev stopped easily with his muscular legs, still powerful even after they’d been pushed so hard for so long.
Feeling returned to her limbs as she stretched and moved away from the place where Lev had halted. She instinctively put some distance between her aching body and the tall, hard body that had carried her all morning.
But she couldn’t help looking.
Sweat plastered Lev’s shirt to his broad chest, and his vest didn’t hide the muscles the damp cotton revealed. Not his powerful pectorals or his rippled abdomen. His leather leggings were a second skin, stuck to his muscles by perspiration that only served to call attention to his strong legs.
“There’s water nearby,” Madeline said. The gurgle of a stream teased her ears once Lev’s feet were no longer pounding on the forest floor. The fresh scent of water-dampened earth and stone made her lick her lips. They’d eaten their last granola and changed into their fresh clothes that morning. Now Madeline’s stomach was almost as empty as her backpack, and her mouth was dry. Modern food left much to be desired. She craved fresh bread and tangy cheese. And a tankard of ale would be nice.
Instead, she settled for the cold water she found not far from where Lev had stopped. She crouched beside the tiny trickle of a mountain brook and scooped up water with her hands. She even savored the mineral bite of the liquid against her tongue as she hydrated.
At least until Lev joined her.
He had taken the leather cord from his hair, and he’d shed his sweat-dampened shirt and vest. Wild waves surrounded his head like a mane. He fell down on the moss beside the brook and stretched out flat on his stomach. He lowered his mouth to the water to drink. The water rushed over his face and hair as he buried his face in its cool flow.
While she had merely hydrated, it was like he completely refreshed himself. His whole body seemed to enjoy the brook and the moss and the cool respite of the shadowed forest glade. When he rose, it was with a powerful, graceful leap to a crouched position. He flipped his wet hair back from his face. An arc of water flew off him as he balanced on the balls of his feet.
And then he lifted his chin and met her eyes.
She should have looked away, but as their gazes connected, she was caught and held by the intensity in his blue eyes. He didn’t speak. He stood, silently, and walked toward her. Madeline had taken one last drink and risen to stand beside the brook. She’d meant to turn away, but she’d watched Lev instead, as transfixed as she would have been watching any wild creature bow its head to drink.
“Water will have to be enough for now. We have to press on,” Lev said. “The wolves have found us again. They aren’t far behind.”
It was hard for Madeline to process his words, because as he spoke he stepped closer to her until his bare chest brushed the tips of her breasts. He lifted one hand to her upturned face. With an outstretched finger, he touched her cheek. She sucked in a gulp of air, but his hand drew back before she could decide to lean into his touch or move away. He had captured a droplet of water. It hung suspended on his finger for several seconds before he gently, shockingly traced the drop of moisture over her lower lip.
When he spoke, his gravelly voice vibrated pleasantly against her. “We do not have to be connected by the sword for me to sense your desire, Madeline Romanov. I have not forgotten the way your eyes reflect heat and your perfect lips part. I will not claim kisses that you have not offered, but know this—your ache is my ache. Your heat is my heat. The ruby might be dormant or even dead, but my desire for you will never die,” Lev said. “Nor your desire for me, I think.”
It wasn’t arrogance. It was perception. Surely, he could feel her heartbeat pound against his hard, hot skin. His eyes darkened as her tongue flicked out to lick the moisture he’d trailed on her lip. But, true to his word, he didn’t lean down to kiss her, even though he must see how badly she wanted to taste him.
“I saw the white wolf’s horrible snarl. He threatened everyone on Krajina. There was no reason in his terrible red eyes. There was only blind rage. You appeared before I could fight the white wolf, but I would have fought him. I would have killed him to protect Queen Vasilisa and Trevor. To protect your brother and his wife,” Madeline said.
“The threat of the white wolf’s savagery looms between us,” Lev said. “And his savagery is mine. But it will be our savagery that saves you and Trevor from the Volkhvy. This, I promise. I also promise you will never have to face the white wolf in battle. I will do whatever I must to prevent it.”
“I have looked into the white wolf’s eyes and he has no master,” Madeline said. She did back away then. She put distance between them before she turned to walk away.
“The white wolf has no master, but he does have a mistress,” Lev replied.
Madeline’s steps faltered, but only for a second before she continued walking away from the scarred man by the brook. He looked like he could wrestle the white wolf to its knees, but she couldn’t be certain enough to trust Trevor’s fate to his hands.
No matter how powerful they seemed.