She and Lev had met every morning and every evening for weeks. Only on rare occasions did he touch her again, but always with fingers that shook as if he strained to remain distant and gentle. If the attraction he felt for her throbbed inside him the same way hers for him did, then his control was legendary.
Madeline ached.
And she worked all her frustrations out onto the tapestry with needle and thread.
On those rare occasions when Lev brushed her hair back from her face, or reached for her hand to steady her on a stair, she sewed into the wee hours of the morning as she burned on the inside.
The tapestry was almost finished, and he had yet to kiss her. She’d had to remain dissatisfied with merely the heat of his gaze on her mouth. She could only imagine what it would be like to suckle the full swell of his sensual lower lip between hers.
The worst times were when he was summoned to the battlefield and she was left to walk alone. Once, he’d come to her as the white wolf before leaving. She hadn’t been afraid. Not really. She’d trembled because of the extreme display of his power. It was the first time she’d reached for him. Madeline had looked up at the giant wolf looming over her, and she’d raised her hand to his snout. The white wolf had allowed her to cup his ferocious jaw. He’d held himself still while she smoothed her hand down his neck to his barrel chest. She’d pressed her palm into his fur until she found his mighty heartbeat.
Only then had she truly understood the forces at work in their lives.
“Come back to me,” she’d said. But her voice had startled the massive creature and he’d whirled away from her touch. She’d watched him run from Bronwal toward a fight with the Dark Volkhvy.
Her time with Lev Romanov was precious. Her longing for his kiss grew supreme.
The next time she saw him, Madeline didn’t wait for his touch. It was only the second time he’d come to her inside the castle. He’d returned from battle to find her in a drawing room sewing by the fire. Her tapestry was almost complete. It was held stretched by a large wooden hoop she could move from section to section on the large work of art. She was currently working on the hilt of the sword in her fingers. She’d never held anything but toy blades, clumsy wooden practice swords made for young boys. Yet she knew how each finger made of thread should be placed.
Lev came into the room. He’d seen the tapestry once before. They hadn’t spoken of what it meant. Or how it revealed the Call of the sword that throbbed in her breast. But this time, when he approached the fireplace near where she sat, Madeline stood, allowing the hoop to slide off her lap to the floor.
“I want to run with you,” Madeline said. “Into battle. Into our future together.”
“I know,” Lev replied. He stopped only when her body prevented him from pressing closer, but his hands were at his sides. He pulsed with energy and hunger and desire, but he waited as the white wolf had waited—for her touch. His fists were clenched. His jaw was hardened. Only the fact that he had come looking for her and his slightly parted lips revealed his desire.
Madeline reached up to grasp the back of Lev’s head. He gasped at the first brush of her fingers beneath his hair. She burrowed them intimately against his warm skin and held his strong neck beneath her palms. Their eyes met, and she saw the white wolf in his, contained. She appreciated his control. He’d allowed her innocence the time to give way beneath her longing to be free. Free with him. Free to taste and touch.
Madeline pulled his face down to hers, and he followed her urging like a drowning man diving into a refreshing pool. When their lips met and merged, Madeline cried his name into his mouth. Only with that obvious sign of her arousal did he hungrily take what she offered. And he did it so ferociously that Madeline’s knees gave out and Lev’s strong arms coming around her were the only thing that kept her on her feet.
Lev’s tongue plunged against hers. Rough, moist velvet twisted and twined in a dance that caused her heart to race as fast as the white wolf could run.
Their first kiss caused the ruby’s glow to shine from their eyes, and the sitting room was lit more brightly than the fire by enchanted light.
Madeline had slept for so long encased in a crystal coffin on the island of Krajina. This wasn’t like that. Birdsong echoed in her ears. Warm sun caressed her cheek. And the sharp, sweet scent of flowers filled her nose. Not the cloyingly sweet scent of roses from Vasilisa’s garden. But a scent both fresher and more familiar.
Yet what could be more familiar than the scent of a garden in which you’d spent over a thousand years?
Madeline opened her eyes and then closed them right away when a bright blue sky dazzled above her and caused moisture to well up. She sat and blinked the tears away as she opened her eyes again. This time, instead of a prismatic fantasy world glimpsed through salty water, Madeline saw the sloped curve of a mountainside. The slope was awash in a deep violet color that appeared almost crimson by the light of the setting sun.
Spring blossoms painted an entire field of wildflower bushes. The woody stems of the bushes clung hardily to the uneven craggy terrain, and their dark green leaves trembled in the breeze.
“We’re almost there. I wasn’t sure if you’d passed out or if you were only sleeping. I thought I’d better stop for water to make sure it was the latter,” Lev said.
“You don’t like when I sleep,” Madeline said. She didn’t know how she knew it. Maybe it was in the tightness of his face. Maybe even several feet away, she could still see the pulse in his throat.
“Every time you open your eyes it’s miraculous,” Lev said. “Like I’m waking from a nightmare.”
Madeline took the water he offered. She didn’t ask where he’d found the dented container he held out to her. It was a strange cylinder of metal she’d seen before, on Krajina and the train, but instead of being filled with a sweet, sparkling beverage called a “soda,” the empty can had been rinsed out and filled with fresh, cold liquid from a nearby stream.
“Even Vasilisa’s enchantments couldn’t keep humans and their trash completely away,” Lev said.
She drained every drop, ignoring that much of the liquid spilled from holes in the container to dribble onto her cheeks as she drank.
But once her thirst was quenched, she noticed the scent of the flowers again. And then she knew.
She’d been on this mountainside surrounded by these wildflowers before.
The empty container fell from her fingers as Madeline reached for the nearest bush. She plucked a blossom from it and brought the petals to her nose, then stood as a rush of recognition flowed over her. This place was a memory. She whirled around to share her discovery with her companion, but he already knew.
Because he’d been here with her.
They’d been here together.
It wasn’t only the wildflowers she remembered.
He must have washed in the stream. He was wet. His hair dripped into his eyes and his bloody, shredded shirt was gone. Cleansed, his injuries didn’t look as bad as they had the night before. He healed quicker than an ordinary man. She didn’t just intuit that knowledge; she remembered it. Her mind flooded with images of times when Lev had been hurt and she’d seen him heal. The memories were indistinct and foggy. But they were there.
Other memories were clearer. Probably because they were inspired and rooted in the place where they stood.
His taste. His touch. Their bodies entwined. She’d inhaled the scent of the flowers deep into her lungs, making their sweetness a part of her, as she’d found an orgasmic release beneath him.
She remembered.
Lev’s eyes darkened in the sunset’s glow. He remembered, too. Had he laid her here in the hope that the memory might come back to her?
“We had to leave Straluci to be alone. It was always full in the spring. It seemed as if the Dark Volkhvy thawed with the ice and snow. There were so many more of them then. Ivan followed Vladimir’s practice of housing a large contingent here to guard the pass. A first line of defense. As for you and me, we lost our winter retreat,” Lev said. “You can almost see the towers from here. If you know where to look.”
She knew where to look. She didn’t even have to follow his gaze. She saw the tips of three towers and wondered if the fourth tower had crumbled away. The copper spires that had once glared in the sun and given the castle its name now had a greenish patina, but even that camouflage didn’t fool her.
Madeline looked from the copper-tipped towers to Lev. He brought his attention back to her more slowly, as if uncertain of what he would find. His nearly bare chest angled back toward her as his face came around. His lean hips turned.
Lev’s hard physique startled her every time he moved. He caused her breath to catch—his strength, his grace in spite of his injuries and his obvious tension. The sudden return of her memory about their former intimacy in this place only heightened her already heated response to the physical attraction she’d felt to Lev Romanov from the start. She didn’t remember everything. But she remembered enough to be mesmerized by the man who was a dangerous stranger on one hand and the closest person on earth to her on the other.
He moved so slowly that the wait seemed torturous. It was only moments, but those moments caused her heart to pound and adrenaline to rush beneath her skin. She was afraid the rush was fueled by anticipation.
Madeline knew the look in Lev’s eyes even before their gazes met. When he lifted his eyelids, she wasn’t disappointed. She also had to admit she was anticipating other things. Dangerous things. Like the promise of heat in his gaze as his attention fell to her lips. She moistened her mouth, suddenly aware that she was breathing more heavily than she should, like after holding her breath for too long. His attention followed the dart of her tongue. Then he lifted his gaze to hers once more.
“Tell me to walk away,” Lev said. “Far away. Now. Or I’m going to kiss you again. And more. Much more.”
He stepped toward her. Only one stride. And Madeline couldn’t breathe again. Her throat closed. Her chest constricted. She had to struggle to speak, but she forced herself to respond because she didn’t want him to mistake her silence for a protest.
“Don’t...go,” she rasped, and her voice was nearly as gravelly as Lev’s.
He reacted as if he’d been shot. He swayed on his feet. He lifted both hands up to push his fingers into his wild, wet hair. He held the thick blond waves off his face as if he needed to see her more clearly to be sure of what she’d said. Then he closed his eyes. Swallowed.
“I think I heard you wrong, Madeline. You’re going to have to repeat yourself,” Lev said. His pained growl caused her stomach to tighten and heat to coil and curl low in her abdomen. They shouldn’t do this. It was a terrible decision. One that would torture her when they were forced to part. He was giving her every opportunity to reject him the same way she’d rejected the sword. He might be savage after his years as the white wolf, but not here. Not in this moment.
Not with her.
It was a bad decision, but it was hers to make. She stepped toward Lev as if she stepped off a cliff to spread her wings and fly. His chin came down. His hands dropped from his hair, and his eyes opened. He sensed her movement toward him. And then he watched her take another step. He didn’t rush forward to catch her. He allowed her to spread her wings.
“Don’t go,” Madeline said. This time her voice was strong. “Come to me, Lev. Come to me.”
“Always,” Lev responded. His voice wasn’t strong like hers. There was a howl in his tone and a waver to his usual growl.
Vasilisa had told her about Lev’s brother, Soren. How he had hunted for the white wolf for hundreds of years. How he had remained in his shifted form of the red wolf for centuries, even though that meant he could only be a loyal wolf companion to the woman he loved. Anna and the red wolf had been inseparable. Neither had known she was Volkhvy, the Light Volkhvy princess. When the truth was discovered, Soren’s hatred of witches had almost torn them apart, even though Anna heard the emerald Romanov blade Calling her to become Soren’s warrior mate.
Lev had run from everyone for so long. Anna said it was because he was searching for her and Trevor. He’d been driven. Tireless. Near madness by the time he’d found Krajina.
Now the blossom she’d picked fell from her outstretched hand as he came to her.
Madeline raised trembling fingers to his face, and Lev leaned into her palm. She traded the flower petals for his beard of burnished silk. His skin was hard, but vulnerable above the golden hair. He was so tall that he had to lean down, even though she was tall herself.
And in this field, he was hers, as he had been ages ago.
He suddenly fell to his knees and reached to pull her hard against his face. He nuzzled her lower abdomen, seeming to find the heat that had coiled there a few moments before. Madeline buried her fingers into his damp hair. She gloried in the heat inside herself and from his open mouth as he kissed and nipped her through her clothes. The heat in her abdomen was nothing compared to the heat that flared and flowed between her legs.
She had been afraid he would devour her as the white wolf. Now she was afraid he wouldn’t devour her soon enough with his lips and teeth and tongue. Her memories were hazy. She needed to be reminded by Lev, here and now.
Madeline relaxed her knees, and he felt her intention. He loosened his hold to allow her to sink down to the ground. They kneeled, face-to-face. She tilted her chin to meet his eyes, and it was Lev’s turn to lift his palm to her cheek. He held her more firmly than she’d expected. His thumb curved beneath her chin, and his fingers spread to cup her jaw. He urged her head back and she was caught—both by his strong hand and by the flush of desire on his pale face. When he leaned to press his lips to hers, she gasped. The sudden relief of his full, sensual mouth sucking her lower lip became a torment seconds later as a flood of response pulsed between her legs.
She remembered his tongue pleasuring her to heights she had never imagined. She remembered the tickle of his beard on her thighs, and his long wavy hair between her knees.
Lev’s tongue mimicked the same plunging, darting, licking movements he’d used to plumb her feminine depths all those years ago. In this field, surrounded by a riot of colorful flowers, she’d cried out to the heavens. Now she gasped and met his wicked tongue with hers. He growled his appreciation as they explored each other’s mouths. And all the while, she ached to have his tongue on her and in her more intimately than this.
“Will you lie back for me, then?” Lev murmured into her mouth. “Let me help you remember.”
She was too hot to wonder how he knew what she was thinking. She fell back on the soft grass, but before she settled, Lev masterfully cupped his hands beneath her knees to spread her legs and pull her closer. Her shirt rode up as her body slid on the grass, and Lev immediately zeroed in on the bared stomach her sliding shirt revealed. He swooped down to nuzzle her naked skin, and she gasped his name as the heat of his mouth scorched her.
Lev froze. His fingers tightened on her legs. He raised his head just enough from her stomach to look up at her face. Their eyes met. The tip of his beard hovered against her skin, causing gooseflesh to rise and a tickling sensation to zing to the pulsing flesh still covered beneath her leggings.
“Say my name again,” he urged. His beard brushed her stomach as he spoke, and Madeline sucked in air. She bit her lip as he noticed her reaction. His eyelids grew heavier, and he teasingly leaned down to trail his beard along her quivering, exposed flesh. He watched as her reaction intensified the closer he came to the juncture of her thighs. “Say my name again,” he repeated.
“Lev,” Madeline breathed. She couldn’t help it. His name was infused with all the longing she’d been fighting for days. “Lev. Please,” she added.
“Always,” he repeated. She recognized it as a declaration. She stiffened, about to protest his promise of forever, when his hot lips pressed against the skin just above the waist of her pants. His hands had moved from her legs. She hadn’t noticed. Until his fingers hooked in the stretchy material of her pants and eased them down an inch. Followed by a slow tasting kiss with hints of moist tongue. Then another inch, followed by the swirling delight of more tongue.
She couldn’t help it. Her hips had started to respond to his nearness and the moist heat of his mouth. She wiggled her bottom against the grass as he slid her pants farther and farther down. His mouth followed, until he paused to appreciate the mound of scarlet hair the lowered leggings had finally revealed.
“My ruby warrior,” he said, and his breath tickled across her.
She didn’t argue. For now, she could be the woman he remembered, and he could be the man who had loved her in this field a thousand years ago.
His tongue. Oh, God, his tongue.
Lev looked up to see her pleasure as he used one final pull to take the leggings halfway down her thighs. He fully exposed her womanhood, and then he dipped his head to delve into her with his tongue. He found her most tender flesh, and she cried out. Her hands spasmed in his hair and pulled him closer as her hips rose off the ground. He hummed his approval as his tongue met her thrust.
She called his name louder than she’d said it before. Her head fell back and her legs were suddenly bare. He’d moved to pull off her pants, but as always, his moves were so quick and graceful that his mouth was back against her before she noticed the loss of his heat.
She came against his mouth as he nuzzled into her most intimate folds. In their field, she cried his name to the sky as her body shivered and shook.
When he pulled away without speaking, Madeline struggled to open her eyes. She rose on her elbows to see where he had gone, and quickly realized he hadn’t moved far. He kneeled between her legs.
He reached for her knees when she looked for him.
“I’m here, but you can still send me away. I’ll go. It will kill me, but I’ll go,” Lev vowed.
“We’ll have to part soon enough. Stay. For now,” Madeline said.
Lev was still fully clothed. She could see his erection bulging against the tight leather of his pants. But he didn’t release himself, and she was too overwhelmed to reach for him herself. Instead, when he lay down beside her on the grass, she rolled to press against him and bury her face in his chest.
Her hazy memories were still distant, but they’d claimed the field once more. They couldn’t claim each other or the sword. She couldn’t risk an enchanted connection that might bring the ferocious white wolf in contact with Trevor. But as the moon rose above them to darkly illuminate the flowers, Madeline was glad they’d always have the rhododendron mountainside.
She would never forget tonight. The ruby sword sat silent and still several feet away, where Lev must have moved it when he laid her down to search for water. It was dull. The dead gem didn’t gleam. Beside the sword was her nearly empty pack. It held only her sketchbook and used pencils. They were out of supplies. Far in the distance, many miles away, she thought she heard a sound that might be the echo of a howl. Lev didn’t stir, so she knew there was no danger.
Yet.
The portal wasn’t far away. Soon, they would see Trevor again.
Lev had fallen asleep. The incredible journey had tapped every ounce of his strength, limitless though he seemed. She almost reached to touch his face, but stayed her hand. This field was theirs, but Lev Romanov wasn’t hers. Not anymore. And he never would be again.
Always.
They didn’t have much time. And they certainly didn’t have forever. At one time, she must have thought he was her future. They had married. She had accepted the Call of the ruby sword. She couldn’t remember what that had been like. She knew they’d lived a war-filled life. The battle against the Dark Volkhvy was constant in those days. Yet they’d decided to have a baby in spite of the Darkness.
And she had failed to protect him.
Even now, Trevor was in jeopardy because she had failed. She hadn’t been much of a ruby warrior. She could only vow to be a better mother and warrior from here on out. That would be her always. It would be a lonely vigil, but she would undertake it because she had to.
She watched Lev Romanov sleep. His broad chest rose and fell. His hair had dried, and it waved around his face. His hard features were softer, his scars surprisingly visible in the night. It must be the star-filled Carpathian sky that made midnight seem more like dusk than the pitch-black of night here in the mountains.
Carefully, she traced one scar on his cheek with a gentle finger.
He would never be hers again, and no one else would ever take his place. How could any other man follow a legend?
Briefly, before Madeline fell asleep, she wondered why Lev had pleasured her without seeking release for himself.