Soren’s intensity made her nervous, as did the disappearance of the lank-haired witch who had boldly watched her throughout dinner only to vanish afterward. Anna handled all the duties of her position, but she was ever conscious of the red wolf’s amber glare. She smiled and laughed twice as much to try to cover for his obvious antagonism. He was right—there was no way to be certain which Volkhvy they could trust. But his default of not trusting any of them put her in an untenable position.
Especially when his penetrating glare was trained on her and she could tell that distrust wasn’t the only thing he felt for her.
Because nervous wasn’t the only thing Soren made her.
The bold witch was gone, but she met so many new witches that names and faces blurred in her memory. Only one name and face were constantly with her throughout the whole night—Soren Romanov. He was the wolf in the room that everyone tried to ignore. Except there was no ignoring a six-foot-four-inch medieval Russian royal with a broad, powerful build and muscles that made his tailored tuxedo strain at the seams.
He stood with his arms crossed over his impressive chest, and he glared. But he also watched over her in a room full of possible enemies, and the fire in his eyes wasn’t only for a fight. He desired her. He’d told her so matter-of-factly at dinner as he casually ate his soup.
All I want is to taste the wine on your tongue.
Her head grew light with the memory, even though she’d been careful not to overimbibe. Soren was impressive in his defensive mode, but there was something about him confessing a vulnerability that stunned her. She had to concentrate in her heels to keep from stumbling on the carpet-strewed marble floors.
He didn’t trust her witch blood. He fully intended to find and destroy the emerald sword that tried to bind them together, a warrior and her wolf. But he would protect her still, and he desired her. He craved her taste and her touch.
Anna straightened her long black gloves again and again. She’d chosen velvet gloves banded in deep red silk for tonight to complement her dress. No one seemed to think her eccentric accessories were odd. After all, she was the daughter of a woman who was known for her anachronistic clothing choices—gloves were nothing compared to hoops and horned hats.
The electricity caused by her interactions with Soren—from glances to outright sensual promise—almost seemed to outdo the charge of the Ether’s power. Her heartbeat was quick. Her breathing more labored than it should be. But it wasn’t because she was having a hard time controlling her abilities. It was because Soren stared and protected and shattered her defenses with his defensive posturing.
He had always backed her up. She’d been braver than she would have been as a teen girl in a cursed castle with an enchanted red wolf by her side.
She wanted to be braver still with the man.
* * *
More guests began to take their leave at midnight. Anna stood beside her mother and bade each and every one safe travels, never knowing which ones might wish her harm. Finally, the rooms were silent, save for servants using the Ether’s energy to set things right after the crowd. Jewel tones of light flared here and there like brilliant fireflies trapped indoors, seeking each other in the night.
“Some of the guests have chosen to sleep in the palace. Servants are showing them to their rooms. Perhaps Soren could escort you to your room,” Vasilisa suggested.
“He thinks some of the guests might be your enemies now that the curse has been lifted. He says some of them might still prefer the Darkness,” Anna said. “There was one particular witch—a tall man with black hair. He seemed to have an intent focus on me.”
“I thought I detected more than the usual edge of battle readiness in Soren. I appreciate his concern for you,” Vasilisa said. “It doesn’t seem to be the concern of someone who is ready and willing to let you go. Quite a few of the male Volkhvy were watching you this evening—perhaps he’s afraid one of them will step forward to take his place?”
“Stop. You make light of serious things. I know you say that your enchanted swords only reveal the truth, but the truth is Soren will never trust Volkhvy manipulations. We will part. And soon,” Anna said.
“You’ll never part. Destroy the sword if you must. You’ll only discover that you’re bound without it. Partnership binds. Your partnership with the red wolf has been obvious to anyone with eyes all night long,” Vasilisa said. “I have eyes and experience. You will be lost without each other as soon as you take the first steps away.”
Anna turned her back on her mother and walked toward Soren. He met her in several strides before she could cross the room, as if he’d been waiting to join her all night.
“Some of the guests are staying the night. They’ve been given rooms in the palace,” Anna said. She didn’t reach for him. There was no acceptable reason to take his hand other than that she’d wanted to touch him again for hours. He didn’t touch her either, although the air between them crackled with tension.
“I’ll take you to your room when you’re ready. You shouldn’t be alone. Any one of them might wait for an opportunity to hurt you as your mother’s heir,” Soren said.
“Once I attain control of the full measure of my abilities, they wouldn’t dare. But right now, I’m probably a tempting target,” Anna agreed. “I’m not sure Vasilisa thought this through. She probably should have waited until I was better trained to invite so many powerful guests.”
“She knew exactly what she was doing,” Soren said. He placed a hand on Anna’s elbow. Even the thick velvet didn’t cushion her from the heat that flared from that simple contact. “She wants a daughter and a powerful pet. I’m going to disappoint her manipulations.”
“Even if you’re disappointed, as well?” Anna asked. But he didn’t reply. He led her out of the room with his hand on her arm without so much as a glance at the queen, who watched them leave.
As they left the withdrawing room and entered the main arcade that wound to the base of the tiled staircase to the upper floors, the large arched windows that faced the sea were open to the night air. Anna slowed her pace, and Soren allowed it. His grip eased on her arm, and even he seemed to take a breath of the enchanted breeze.
“Your mother relies too much on the island as a defense. The palace is completely unfortified. Anyone could come and go from all the open doors and windows. This artificial climate is an indulgence,” Soren said. But he paused near an open archway and a beam of moonlight fell on his face. The sudden illumination penetrated his defenses, because she could suddenly see him looking at her in a way he wouldn’t have been looking without the cover of shadows.
His face was a Romanov face, with a strong, straight nose and angular jaw. His cheekbones were revealed now that his beard had been trimmed, and they were sharply cut as if from a perfect block of stone. But it was his lips that confessed in the sudden moonlight. They were softer than they’d been earlier. As full and gentled as they’d been when she’d kissed him days ago.
Anna didn’t wait for logic to catch up to her intentions. She allowed herself to press up against the big male body of her wolf. The heels that had threatened her equilibrium all night now enabled her to press her mouth to Soren’s. His lips were as soft as the moonlight said they’d be. She explored that one delicious vulnerability with her tongue.
“Anna,” Soren growled against her mouth. But it wasn’t a growl that was meant to repel. It was a hungry growl. One that warned of a devouring to come if she didn’t back away.
“Yes,” she whispered back. It wasn’t a question. It was an affirmation. She knew what she risked.
He pulled her into the shadows of the archway’s corner. He perched his hip on the ledge and she stepped between his knees. Their bodies melded. Her dress was no barrier; neither was the thin poplin of his dress shirt. Anna slid her hands beneath his jacket to feel the heated skin of his sides. He pulled her closer until her breasts flattened against his chest. Her arms wound around him to press against his muscled back.
And still her mouth clung to his.
She could taste wine on his tongue as she stroked hers against it. She remembered his confession from dinner, and she trembled as he licked deeply between her lips and his desire came true. Time had been their enemy and their friend. Now it stood still as they stole a moment away from the world. The intensity he’d radiated all night long was suddenly hers to taste and touch. She explored the heated ripple of his muscles until his shirt rode loose of his waistband and her hands found bare skin.
* * *
They both froze.
Soren hated her gloves in that moment. He resented their fear. She caressed his lower back, and the velvet only made him crave her actual touch more. Whether or not he trusted her abilities, he trusted her need to touch him.
Soren broke their kiss. He drew back and brought one of her hands to his face so that he could bite the tip of the middle finger on her glove. She gasped as his teeth closed on the velvet. But as he worked the glove loose to free her hand, Anna reached to stop him with her other hand. She cupped the side of Soren’s jaw with a velvet palm. They were in the shadows, but the glow of the moon reached them just enough so that he could see the gleam of her eyes. They sparkled more than they should. The kiss or his willingness to get rid of the glove had upset her.
“We can’t. Even if you trust me not to hurt you, I don’t trust myself. The energy I channel is too much for me to control sometimes,” Anna said. “I proved that when I took you through the Ether after the white wolf’s attack.”
Soren closed his eyes. He took a deep breath that shuddered his entire body with its release. His desire for her touch was nearly impossible for him to control. He should be glad that Anna had stopped him. But he wasn’t. Suddenly, her fear of her power seemed a horrible thing. Similar to his fear of the Ether and being trapped in the shift. They were both haunted.
She was a witch. He was a wolf.
There was no escape from what they were.
He still held her hand to his face, but he had released the velvet from his teeth. She looked up at him, and he could tell she held her breath as he decided what to do. There was no choice. He would respect her wishes. Her skin was hers. If she chose not to share it with him, he would let her go and back away.
“I’m not afraid of your touch,” he said. Then he released her hand. She drew it quickly back and cradled it with her other arm against her stomach. As if it might decide to caress him of its own volition.
“You should be,” she whispered.
She backed away from him, and the balmy night had suddenly gone cold. Once again he wondered if their sudden separation opened him up to the island’s true climate.
This time, the chill stayed with him as he followed Anna up the painted tile stairs.