6
A bright light flashed, flowing upward from the pentagram carved in the earth. Tia covered her eyes, and Luc dragged her body against his chest to protect her. There was no heat, just blinding brilliance. Luc shaded his face with his free hand and opened his eyes in time to see Anton slowly fall forward to the ground.
Keisha screamed. Luc steadied Tia in her chair and then reached for Anton. He lifted the wizard’s surprisingly light frame and placed him back in his chair. Keisha hovered beside him, holding him steady. Luc checked to see that he was breathing, but when he placed his hand over Anton’s chest, Luc felt the man’s heart racing unsteadily.
“His color doesn’t look good.” Stefan brushed Anton’s hair from his eyes. “Should we call for help?”
“We can’t break the circle.” Xandi’s voice quavered. “No matter what.”
Keisha held Anton against her shoulder, quietly sobbing. Stefan knelt beside the two of them. Luc turned to check on Tia. She knelt on the ground beside her father’s body. Ulrich lay where he’d fallen, his eyes open and staring, his chest barely moving. Tia carefully closed his eyes with shaking hands.
Xandi watched the circle.
“Whatever you do,” she cautioned again, “don’t step outside the circle. Anton’s orders. How is he?”
Stefan nodded. “I think he’ll be okay. Whatever spell he just performed took everything out of him. Once he rests . . .” Stefan pulled Tia’s chair closer to Anton. He could help support his packmate’s limp body and comfort Keisha at the same time.
Her crying eased. Luc heard her sniff loudly. She reached for Stefan’s hand, grasping his fingers with hers over Anton’s chest, protecting her mate between the two of them.
Luc turned to help Tia. She held her father’s body. Ulrich’s head rested in her lap, and she sobbed uncontrollably, as though the emotions of the evening had been too much.
“Is he still breathing?” When Tia nodded, Luc knelt beside her and lifted one of Ulrich’s eyelids. Only white stared back at him. He felt the soft rise and fall of the man’s chest, but there was no rousing him.
“His body is here. His spirit has gone with Camille. We need to hold within the circle until he returns at dawn. We are the life force that will call Ulrich back. Do not leave the circle.” Anton’s voice sounded weak, but the command was still evident in every word.
The air within the circle remained surprisingly warm and comfortable. It carried the faint scent of the herbs, of rosemary, sage, and mint from Anton’s incense. The small candle on the altar continued to burn steadily without flickering.
Tia stayed on the ground with her father. Luc sat in his chair, and she braced her back against his legs with Ulrich’s head resting in her lap. Keisha stayed close to Anton, stroking his arm while his normal color slowly returned. Stefan moved back to his own chair beside Xandi. They huddled together on the opposite side of the circle, hugging one another, watching Ulrich.
Luc checked his watch. It was barely nine o’clock. Anton was right; it was going to be a very long night.
“So long, so damned long. Ah, Camille, I never thought to see you again. Where have you been? Have you felt pain? Loneliness?”
Camille gazed up at him, her eyes shimmering in the odd light. “I felt nothing, not the passing of time, not a sense of place or being. Only a wish to move forward, but I couldn’t go. Something ties me here. I wanted to touch you, to see Tianna, but I couldn’t. I merely waited . . . waited until Keisha conceived. I felt the babe’s life. Felt the connection. Remembered life.”
Ulrich thought of the long, lonely nights when he’d lain awake, imagining Camille in his bed once again. It saddened him to think she’d been somewhere, nowhere . . . caught in a strange and lonely place. Now that her body lay beneath his, their bed the thick grass of some ethereal meadow in a place far from the real world, he didn’t know whether to weep or plunge his aching cock deep inside her waiting body.
Wasn’t sure if what he wanted was love—or revenge for all those nights without her. He kissed her again, and she moaned against his mouth; her tongue found the seam between his lips and slipped inside.
Dear God, how he’d missed her! His big hand found her breast. He palmed the soft flesh, dark like fine chocolate, the underside as soft as silk, her nipple hard and proud and so tempting he had to pinch it between his fingers, had to tear his mouth from Camille’s and take her insolent nipple between his lips.
He tasted her, and the lonely years fell away.
She cried out when he suckled the taut flesh; her hips bucked hard against his groin and trapped his cock between their straining bodies. Still working her nipple with his tongue, Ulrich slipped his fingers over the smooth skin of her belly, found the tuft of dark, springy curls between her legs, the soft and swollen cleft of her sex.
So painfully familiar! He’d done this thousands of times in real life, in his dreams, touched her responsive body, made her sing beneath his fingers.
Camille thrashed against him, her movements desperate as she moaned and whimpered, begging him to take her. Instead, Ulrich used the tip of one finger to tease the soft, wet folds. He found her clit and rubbed it so lightly he knew it must be driving her insane.
She’d always loved the teasing, the long, slow foreplay when he built the tension and made her body tremble. This much he could give her again.
He dipped into her wet pussy and dragged her juices over her swollen labia, spread them down the cleft in her cheeks and teased the tight, puckered opening of her anus.
Each time he took her almost to the edge, each time he backed away, taking his fingers to another spot, another erogenous zone he remembered from all those long, sweet hours of foreplay so many years ago.
Ulrich moved to Camille’s other breast and sucked and nipped his way to the top. He used his tongue to tease the hard tip, rubbed his chin against the sensitive underside, and then settled down to suckle her as if he were a newborn, his tongue holding her nipple tight to the roof of his mouth, drawing steadily with his cheeks and lips.
Sobbing now, Camille writhed as if her body would twist into a knot. He knew she’d loved their sex this way, the long, slow buildup, the teasing that went on and on until she was covered in sweat, her heart pounding, her mouth opened in a silent cry of need.
Ulrich brought her to that place, his fingers slipping in and out of her warmth, his cock riding against her thigh, his mouth pulling so hard on her breast he knew it must hurt, knew she wouldn’t want it any other way.
He felt Camille shudder, sensed her orgasm was only seconds away. Ulrich raised up on his knees and turned her over. Crying, begging him to come inside her, Camille grabbed at the thick tufts of grass when he knelt behind her. She spread her legs, her breath bursting in great gasps like a bellows.
Ulrich grabbed his cock in his fist, pressed against her wet and waiting sex, and thrust inside, hard and deep. Camille screamed, the sound filled as much with pain as with pleasure.
“Ah, Ric . . . Ric . . . Ric!”
Her tight pussy clamped down on his cock, and her body shuddered as tremor after tremor rocked her. Ulrich never slowed, plowing in hard and fast, taking her even higher, waiting for the laughter, the love they’d always shared during rough and rowdy sex.
Now there was nothing. Her cries of pleasure ended, and he heard only Camille’s grunts when he filled her, the harsh cadence of her voice begging for more, the rough whisper of the nickname she’d given him so many years ago . . . Ric, Ric, Ric . . . the sense of something missing holding more power than what they had.
Something in her voice, in the tone of her sobs, in the dark void where her mind should have been filled with encouragement and laughter, finally tipped Ulrich over the edge.
Snarling, growling with a combination of anger and love and need, Ulrich shifted. Sharp claws raked tender human shoulders, his huge cock thrust in and out of Camille’s swollen sex as she shoved her hips back against his and, following Ulrich’s lead, became the wolf.
Their mating turned into a battle, a power play between two alphas, fueled by hunger, seasoned by guilt and anger. The bitch might be smaller, but her will was great. She turned and nipped at the huge wolf riding her, grabbed his left front leg between her sharp teeth and bit down, drawing blood.
He snarled and thrust ruthlessly, felt the hard knot in his cock slip inside her molten sex, knew he swelled large enough to lock her tight against him, no matter how she twisted and fought.
There was no pleasure in this mating. Tied now, both of them exhausted, they collapsed into the beaten and torn grass. Ulrich thought of shifting back to human, but he’d missed her so much, both as wolf and as woman, he wanted to hold her locked to him just a little bit longer.
Even in anger he loved her. With all the resentment bubbling in his veins, he still wanted her more than life.
She turned her head, leaned over, and licked the small wound on his leg. Camille’s vaginal muscles pulsed in rhythm around his solid cock, and she panted hard, but her eyes now were bright, and the darkness seemed to have fallen away from her.
I remember when we used to do this every night, when we fucked so hard I’d see stars.
It wasn’t fucking, Camille. It was making love. I loved you.
She dipped her head, acknowledging the pain in his voice. Will you ever forgive me?
Ulrich growled. You left me alone with a six-year-old daughter. I begged you not to run in the daylight, but you didn’t care. You risked your life. By doing exactly what you wanted, you destroyed the lives of three innocent people.
She tilted her head and looked steadily at him, long enough to make Ulrich feel uncomfortable. Our daughter is a beautiful, brilliant young woman. Luc is a wonderful young man, the perfect mate for Tia, and you’ve found success with your business. I didn’t destroy you, Ric. You’ve done all this because I died.
It didn’t have to happen, Camille. The anger rose in Ulrich once again, when all he really wanted to do was hold her, make love to her, find the warmth in her once more. He stared at the she-wolf, his mate, and Camille dipped her nose almost to the ground and then raised her head and gazed back at him.
But it did happen, my love. I was wrong and I paid a heavy price. I never thought beyond myself. I was selfish and believed I could live forever. She looked away at the perfect forest around them and sighed. In a way, I’ve condemned myself to do exactly that—live forever. I’m caught here in a world halfway between life and death.
Why can’t you move on? What holds you?
Camille looked at him and shook her head, as though laughing at his stubbornness. Then she shifted, making the change so suddenly the wolf was tied with a woman.
Ulrich shifted as well and lay beside Camille, their bodies touching but no longer connected. He brushed her thick hair away from her amber eyes. “Will you tell me what holds you?”
Camille leaned close and kissed his nose. “You do, you idiot. Your anger, your resentment, your inability to forgive. You always were a stubborn bastard, but I used to think that was part of your charm. It’s not so charming anymore.”
She stood up and left Ulrich lying there with his mouth open, feeling like a damned fool.
Camille waved her hand, and a wisp of silk appeared out of thin air. She wrapped herself in the pale blue sarong and took off walking toward the forest; then she looked over her shoulder and paused for just a step. “While I used to find your stubborn-as-a-mule nature sort of cute, it’s damned inconvenient when you’re holding me hostage in a place that doesn’t really exist.”
Then she turned and disappeared into the woods.
Ulrich scrambled to his feet. He looked for his robe, but it was nowhere to be found. Remembering Camille’s motion, he waved his hand in the air and thought of pants.
A pair of soft cotton jogging shorts fell on the grass at his feet. Feeling much like Alice after she tumbled down the rabbit hole, Ulrich slipped on the shorts and took off after Camille, jogging barefoot along the forest path.
“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Tia twisted around and looked up at Luc. She’d been leaning against his legs for what seemed like hours, holding her father’s still body, wondering what was happening in whatever place his spirit had gone.
Most of all, she’d been wondering about the amazing encounter she’d had tonight. Her mother’s arms hugging her, the memories of a forgotten childhood spilling into her mind.
Unbelievable, but impossibly true.
Luc’s hand swept over Tia’s hair and tangled in her curls. His deep whisper sent a shiver along her spine. She wished they were back in their room, wished they were making love in the big bed where Luc had slept alone the previous night.
“He’ll be fine. It’s barely after midnight. They’ve been gone for only three hours. I expect your dad to be back by around six, just before dawn.”
“What if he doesn’t come back? What if he decides to stay with Mom?”
“He’ll come back. Trust your father. Why don’t you try to sleep? Everyone else is.”
It was true. Tia hadn’t realized they were the only ones awake. Anton had practically collapsed, once Keisha convinced him the integrity of the circle would hold while he slept. Xandi and Stefan had shifted, figuring they’d be more comfortable as wolves. They slept now, curled up nose to tail in front of their chairs, still well inside the circle.
Tia settled once more against Luc’s shins, trusting him to keep watch. Her father’s body hadn’t moved. Breathing softly, Ulrich slept on with his head still resting in Tia’s lap. She leaned back, looked up at Luc, and felt the warmth of his love surround her. “I love you. More than anything.”
“I love you.” He reached down and clasped her hand. “I like your mother’s idea, by the way. I want you to be my wife. Will you marry me?”
Tia kissed his hand. Her throat filled with tears, and she couldn’t talk, couldn’t speak the answer Luc wanted.
Yes, she said, finally remembering there were other ways to communicate. Yes, I’ll marry you.
Luc nodded. Good. That’s settled. Now sleep. We’ll make plans tomorrow . . . after we spend a few hours in bed.
Tia bit back a giggle. Not the most romantic of proposals, but she loved him. She’d take it.
Ulrich finally caught up to Camille near a small dark woodland pool. She sat on a log at the water’s edge, one foot dangling in the clear water, looking the part of a sorrowful dark nymph gowned in gossamer.
Tears ran down Camille’s cheeks. Ulrich sat beside her, felt the warmth from her body, smelled the familiar perfume she’d always worn, and ached with needing her. He leaned close, pushed aside the heavy mass of her hair, and kissed the back of her neck. Then he gently grabbed her by the shoulders and turned her so that she faced him.
Ulrich’s voice sounded harsh, as if a stranger spoke his words. “I don’t want to forgive you. If forgiving you means I lose you forever, how can you ask me to say the words? My anger has kept you alive to me, it’s given me purpose, kept me from losing my mind for wanting you so much.” He shook her gently, enough to show her how intensely he felt. “I love you, Camille. More than anything, I love you. I want those lost years back, want to fall asleep with you beside me, wake up to the sound of your singing, your silly jokes, the laughter we used to share. Hell, I even miss the fighting.” He released his grip on her shoulders and raked his fingers through his hair, practically shaking with frustration. “Is there any way?”
She shook her head. “No. My time on Earth is over. You can leave me here, wandering in this half life for eternity, or let me move on.” She grabbed his wrists with both hands. “I love you. I will always love you, but you still have a life to finish, a daughter who adores you, grandchildren who will need their grandfather to show them the way of Chanku. You can’t come with me. Not now. You still have too much life to live.”
Ulrich felt some of the resentment begin to melt away, replaced by the sadness and grief he’d kept at bay for so many years. He pulled her close. “Dear God, Camille. It’s so hard. I didn’t have a warning before, not a chance to think of any alternatives other than life without you . . . and I was so damned angry. Will we still have tonight?”
Camille’s sob tore at his heart. Her tears scalded his chest. “One night . . . only a few more hours. Let’s not spend them angry. Forgive me, please. Let go of the resentment and the anger and, yes, even the hate you’ve felt toward me. I was wrong. I was selfish and self-centered and foolish, but I’ve paid. We both have. Love me, Ric. Give me memories enough to last until we’re together again. We will be together. I promise.”
His heart thudded against his chest as blood rushed through his veins, his cock swelled, and Ulrich held Camille close against him for the briefest of hugs. Then he stood with her slight body in his arms and walked toward the center of the small meadow bordering the pond.
With the confidence of one who has witnessed the impossible, Ulrich imagined a large bed in the midst of the forest. Without breaking stride, he lay Camille on the sweet-smelling sheets.