On the way back to the tower, Elena was puzzling over the tapestry when she ran into Bell. The young servant was struggling to pull a trunk up a flight of stairs. Her burden was bigger than she was, and Elena paused to watch as the other woman doggedly refused to give up. Her lack of makeup and her size had caused Elena to misjudge her age the first time they’d met. This time, Elena could see that she was curvier than she’d appeared while she’d been carrying water. She probably wasn’t much younger than Elena herself, and that wasn’t even taking the curse into account.
A shock shivered down Elena’s spine when she acknowledged that the young woman might look eighteen or nineteen years old, but she’d been born centuries ago.
Bell paused and stood against the trunk so it wouldn’t slide backward. She used her weight to hold it while she straightened to stretch her back. Elena wasn’t sure how many more flights she had to tackle, but she was only halfway up this one and the brown curls on her forehead were damp with sweat from her exertions.
“I can help,” Elena offered. She was sorry she spoke without clearing her throat when the other woman dropped down in a defensive crouch as if she braced against an attack. The move allowed the trunk to slide back one jarring step with a loud boom that echoed off the stone walls of the stairway.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized as she stepped forward to place her weight against the trunk too. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Can never be too careful in Bronwal. Not now. You never know if someone Ether-addled or worse is going to come at you without really seeing who they’re attacking,” Bell said.
“Someone or some wolf,” Elena agreed.
“There’s only one wolf you have to worry about at the moment. Soren would never hurt you,” Bell said.
“You don’t worry about the black wolf?” Elena asked.
Bell had leaned to pick up the end of the trunk she’d been tugging before, but this time Elena leaned to pick up the handle on the other side. They hoisted together and, even though it was heavy, they were able to climb up the stairs without much trouble.
They were both stronger than they seemed.
“I worry about everyone and everything in Bronwal. It would be a mistake to lower my guard. But the red wolf is usually not far when bad things happen. He keeps an eye on those of us left behind,” Bell said.
“Isn’t the black wolf a guardian too?” Elena asked. She followed Bell’s lead from the top of the staircase down a short hall and up another flight of stairs.
“Romanov is our guardian,” the other woman said. She acted as if she’d answered Elena’s question even though she hadn’t. Where was the black wolf? Had it disappeared into the Ether or was it wandering around the mountain like Lev, Ether-addled and dangerous?
After several more flights of stairs that left even Elena winded, they came out of a narrow door and onto the ramparts of the castle. Bell was probably used to the view, but she paused to take in the endless stretch of craggy mountains anyway. They must be too spectacular to ever become commonplace and maybe she missed them when she was in the Ether. Enough to need to soak in the view when she could.
“The Mountains of the Sunset...you need to come up one evening to see the colors. I never tire of it when we’re materialized,” Bell said. She really was surprisingly pretty. Her hat shadowed her face and hid her good looks until her bowed lips and dimple flashed when you least expected it. “That’s why I’ve made my room up here. And because no one wanders up this high. Romanov was right when he said you should stay in your tower. To survive, we have to be careful, all the time.”
Bell tugged on her handle to show Elena which way she wanted to go. They wound around the main body of the castle on a walled walk with openings that allowed a person to see for miles. Elena supposed the openings had once been intended for guards to keep watch. Now, she took advantage of them to gauge the weather on mountains as they walked.
No snow fell. The sky was clear.
Finally, when her arms seemed like they would scream in protest, they came to an abandoned aviary. The stone structure was circular with a high, domed roof made of copper. The scrolled iron cage that had once surrounded the aviary on one side was in rusty disrepair, but the mews was intact. Someone had lifted the top fastening window shutters and propped them open so that they fanned out all around the aviary. There were no birds inside to keep contained. Instead of birds, the floor had been swept and mopped clean and covered with colorful rugs. There was a bed and several chairs, as well as shelves full of books. There were other bits and baubles that shone or sparkled throughout the room so that Elena revised her opinion.
There was one bird who inhabited the aviary—a cheerful magpie just over five feet tall.
“Thank you for your help. It’s been a while since anyone has lent me a helping hand,” Bell said.
Elena was glad to set her side of the trunk down when Bell indicated the spot where she wanted it placed at the foot of the bed.
That’s when she turned and noticed the russet fur that covered one of the rugs near the door. Did Soren keep vigil between the door and the bed when Bell was sleeping?
“But not so long since someone lent a helping paw?” she asked. She leaned over to pick up a strand of red hair and lifted it to show the other woman.
“I don’t sleep a lot while we’re materialized. I hate to waste a minute. But needs must, and sometimes I can’t help myself. Once, last Cycle, a Dark Volkhvy found me here in my aviary. They’re always a danger, but they usually confront Romanov. I don’t know how or why one came for me. But Soren intervened,” she said. “He saved me.”
She opened the trunk while she spoke. Nestled inside was a jumble of clothes and possessions. Elena noticed that the clothing was meant for a man. No doubt more practical than some of the clothes made for women when the people of Bronwal were born.
And Bell did seem to favor practical clothes. Her boy’s hat was always placed firmly on her head.
“He seems to do that a lot,” Elena said. “He fetched Romanov and saved me from a very angry Lev a half an hour ago.”
Bell dropped the lid of the trunk and straightened.
“Was Soren okay? I worry sometimes that Lev will turn on him. He’s so far gone,” Bell said.
“He was fine. The last I saw of him he was chasing after Lev and he didn’t seem frightened,” Elena said. “You grew up with them?” she asked. She already knew the answer. Bell was younger than Elena but not by much in actual physical years, although the curse had doomed her to “live” much longer.
“I came to Bronwal when I was a baby. I’ve never known any other home. But I wasn’t always a servant. That happened after the curse, when more and more servants disappeared,” Bell said. “I was put to work and I didn’t mind. Not when the Romanovs had taken me in and given me a safe place to live.”
“What happened to your parents?” Elena asked.
“They were killed in one of the last battles between the Romanovs and the Dark Volkhvy. I don’t remember them. Sovkra was the mountain village where I was born. It was decimated. Vladimir Romanov found me in a field of burning bellflowers. He carried me out of the village as a wolf would carry a pup.”
“And he brought you home,” Elena said.
“Yes. The nanny and servants who cared for his children raised me. They all called me ‘Bell’ because of the scorched flowers I clutched in my hands when the gray wolf lifted me from the flames. I was clothed and fed and basically allowed to run wild until I had to take up the tasks of running the castle myself,” Bell said.
“If Vladimir had taken you elsewhere, you wouldn’t have been caught up in the curse,” Elena said. Bell had been an innocent babe rescued by the Romanovs when she’d been orphaned.
“I wouldn’t change a thing if I could go back and if I had that power. This is my home. These are my people,” Bell said. She stood tall and squared her shoulders. In spite of their serious conversation she still had a hint of a sparkle in her eyes. It might be moisture. It might be determination. Elena couldn’t be sure. “One day the curse will be lifted and the Romanov brothers will be free. I won’t lose myself before that. I want to be here to see...their faces.”
Elena had the feeling there was a particular face that Bell might be pining for, but she shied away from further questions. There was no way to know if Ivan Romanov’s brothers would return from the Ether where they had disappeared, but she had too many of her own foolish hopes to dash Bell’s.
“I’d better go and find Soren,” Bell said.
Elena took one last look at the view. It was a fairy-tale setting, but this was a dark, dark tale indeed, especially now. The snow that had bought her time to search for the black wolf had stopped falling.
* * *
Her book was tucked in the backpack she’d left in her room. The familiar object came into her hands as if her fingers were made to flip its pages. She’d looked through it so many times. It had been an escape from the dance when she’d thought it was a fantasy world. Later, after her mother’s death, it had been a comfort. Then, later still, once Grigori revealed himself and his plans, it had been hope. But she hadn’t turned to the book for comfort or hope this time.
The binding fell open to her favorite illustrations: one of the castle. One of three Romanov wolves running through a wintry wood. One of Vladimir. She paused on the illustration of Ivan’s father. She traced the square angle of his jaw and the sharp line of his nose. So very like his eldest son’s.
Ivan Romanov and his brothers weren’t pictured. His mother was only shown on horseback with indistinct features. As she looked closely at each intricately crafted three-dimensional image that rose from every page, she scanned for something she’d never noticed—swords with enchanted gems on their hilts. The artist had created a complex world completely out of paper. The movement of the pages caused the paper to fold up and out and each image was seen as a silhouette against a backdrop of shadowy black.
There were battle scenes. There were many ordinary blades. None with the jeweled hilt she was looking for, but she thought to scan the vines and flowers, the skies and borders and all the other places in the book that had become so familiar to her that she barely noticed the details they contained.
That’s how she found the sword from the tapestry. Its ruby was unmistakable once her eyes and tracing finger separated it from the leaves of the great oak in which it was hidden. After that, she redoubled her efforts to find Ivan Romanov’s sapphire blade, but it eluded her notice. Page after page held birds and roses and scrolling designs, but no Romanov blade. Until finally she found another sword. This one was hidden in the twining briars of a wild rose that climbed the side of the castle’s wall. Except the gem in its hilt winked with an emerald sheen.
She’d held the sapphire hilt in her own two hands. She knew she would find its like in the book. She’d seen the ruby sword in the tapestry. Now she knew there had been at least three Romanov blades. One for each brother?
But it hadn’t been Romanov’s brother wielding the sword in the tapestry. Who then? The missing brother, the abandoned room, the empty cradle... Elena closed the book before she’d found the sapphire sword. Her throat was tight and her eyes burned. The warrior woman in the tapestry had seemed so at home with the sword in her hand. Had she been married to one of Vladimir Romanov’s sons?
She’d never known her favorite childhood story was a tragedy. She wondered which brother in the portrait she’d seen had disappeared with his entire family into the Ether. Had they all gone at the same time or had some or one been left behind?
There was so much she didn’t understand. She didn’t know if she’d have time to delve as deeply as she needed to into the past and the facts behind the legend in order to summon the alpha wolf. It was all much more complicated than she’d expected. She’d wondered if the legend would prove to be true. She’d never expected to have to search for a reluctant champion once she found Bronwal.
It was late. Most of the distant sounds in the castle had quieted to murmurs and indistinct scrapes and sighs. Bronwal never slept. But it did experience lulls in activity. Elena’s stomach had growled for the hundredth time. Her encounter with the white wolf hadn’t faded in her mind, but her hunger couldn’t be ignored any longer. No one had brought food to the tower, and her energy bars were running out. She was forced to abandon the book and go looking for a kitchen.
This time she bumped into several servants on her way down to lower floors in the castle. Each time they barely acknowledged her presence. Each time she was struck by their eclectic manner of dress. There were many different periods represented, as if coming and going from the Ether was a kind of time travel. Often they were disheveled and threadbare, as if they didn’t have the cognizance necessary to take care of simple matters of hygiene and personal appearance.
One man tried to stop her. He grabbed her arm and yelled nonsense questions in her face. His bloodshot eyes rolled around in their sockets and his clothes were nothing but rags that hung on his emaciated body.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand. I can’t help you,” Elena said. She pulled away with all her strength and the man fell sobbing to the floor. She backed away as she finally recognized some of the syllables he was rolling together.
“Mywifemywifemywifemywife.”
She had to leave him. There was nothing she could do. She couldn’t break the curse or end his suffering. The inhabitants of Bronwal were wanderers. Drifting in and out of existence every ten years. Her heart beat rabidly in her chest as she continued down more flights of stairs. She noted many others she passed had similar wild eyes and uncoordinated, shuffling steps. For the first time, she wondered if Romanov had ordered Lev and Soren to follow her as guardians rather than spies. Alone, she encountered many more of Bronwal’s mad inhabitants. Now that she didn’t have the wolves’ protection, how would she ever find the alpha wolf when she had to dodge the angry white wolf and navigate crowds of desperate, zombie-like people?
This was Ivan Romanov’s world. How had he managed to stay sane for so long?
And what of the alpha wolf? The curse affected the people of Bronwal, but now she’d discovered that it affected the wolves, as well. The white wolf’s statue was smaller and less powerful than the black wolf. The alpha was larger in her book’s illustrations too. If she found him, he might be more savage toward her than Lev.
When she reached the lower levels, the smell of freshly baked bread filled the air. It was a welcome change to dust and unwashed bodies. She hurried forward, propelled as much by her stomach as by the need for cheer, any cheer, especially the kind found in a warm kitchen on a cold night.
She didn’t expect to find Ivan Romanov leaning on a scarred wooden table where Patrice worked. The older woman’s arms were up to her elbows in dough.
“I thought you might make your way down here,” he said as Elena hurried into the room only to stop dead in her tracks.
Unlike the rest of the castle, the kitchen wasn’t deserted. There was a fire in the large hearth, and the ovens built into the stone on either side of it were filled with baking loaves. Besides Patrice and Romanov, there were several other servants bustling around. Elena recognized some of them as people who had carried bathwater to the tower her first night. Several were busily sweeping up the flour that Patrice didn’t seem to notice she’d dusted all over the floor.
“Nothing like the smell of breakfast to get you out of bed,” Patrice said. It was well past noon. Breakfast would have been hours before if Bronwal kept to a regular schedule. Elena had eaten nothing but protein bars since the light meal she’d bought in Cerna after her long journey south from Saint Petersburg to Romania. Her stomach gurgled audibly and Romanov straightened. He motioned her forward to a stool beside him. In front of it was a plate filled with freshly sliced bread. Near that was a stone crock of pale yellow butter and a wheel of fragrant cheese.
“The kitchen is the last living place in Bronwal. You can always be sure of finding someone here,” Romanov said.
Why would he offer her comfort if he was determined she should go away?
She’d sworn to keep her distance from her host, but Elena couldn’t resist the bread or the warmth of the fire. She tried to tell herself there was nothing else drawing her near him. Her hands were like ice from the chilled corridors and stairways. She stepped forward and perched on the stool. The scent of the bread and cheese caused her to nearly swoon, and her mouth watered as she used a knife to dip up and spread the thick, churned butter. It flaked in rich chunks beneath the knife’s blade, as only real butter would do.
“I was going to bring you a tray,” Patrice mumbled as she continued to knead and roll and punch the springy dough.
“Actually, I was,” Romanov said.
He reached for a piece of bread from her plate and lifted it to his mouth. He took a bite as she bit into the piece she’d buttered. They both chewed slowly. As the butter and bread dissolved in Elena’s mouth, she was light-headed with relief. Better that she’d come to the crowded kitchen than to have Romanov come to her room alone. But her relief was short-lived because a smudge of butter from the bread had smeared on Romanov’s lower lip. Her mouth went dry and she couldn’t tear her focus away. She watched the butter as he chewed. She stared, transfixed, as he swallowed and licked his lips clean. His enjoyment of the fresh bread was evident. His pleasure caused her to tighten and tingle, then liquefy in places best ignored in his presence. She had to force herself to swallow past the sudden paralysis in her jaw and throat as tingling desire rose up, refusing to be ignored.
It was torture to be physically attracted to the man who was standing in the way of her desperate goal. She’d never allowed sensual distractions in her life, even when her situation hadn’t been life or death. But the chemistry that assailed her whenever she was around Romanov didn’t ask for permission. In fact, it seemed to be heightened by her desperation.
How could he ignore her predicament when he obviously couldn’t ignore her?
His large body leaned against the tall table closer to her than it had been before. She was certain he had imperceptibly shifted while she’d been focused on his lips. When she forced her gaze up from his mouth to meet his eyes, his intensity caused her breath to catch. His eyelids lazily hooded the gleam of his irises, but his interest was anything but lazy. Although his posture was relaxed, his body was taut. He radiated a heat that competed with the oven. He was gauging her reactions. He was tuned in to her response. He’d noticed her quickened breath and her focus on the mere flick of his tongue. And judging from the intensity of his interest he liked the way she had instantly kindled from such a simple, innocent move.
The liquid in her belly and lower seemed to bubble in response. She’d been famished for food, but now she was hungry for whatever his dark green eyes seemed to promise as they looked into hers.
“You say you want me to go away before the Volkhvy Gathering, but then you offer me warmth and comfort. The snow is piled high outside, but it’s no longer falling,” Elena said. She couldn’t indulge the heat between them with flirtation or niceties. She needed his help to find the alpha wolf. She didn’t need this desire that flared between them. Kisses wouldn’t save her, even though her body lied and tried to tell her they would.
“We move toward oblivion with every passing second,” Romanov said. “I can offer you a meal before you have to leave.” He didn’t back away. In fact, he reached to toy with strands of hair that had fallen free of the messy bun she had hastily created with her heavy blond waves before coming downstairs. Again, it seemed as if he tortured himself. His body was tense. Did he want to plunge his fingers into her hair and pull her into his arms? His powerful hand shook. He would rather devour than toy. That thought did nothing to help her ignore the heat that had radiated out from her bubbling stomach to claim her entire body. His hand might shake, but its trembles were contagious. Her whole being quaked. Her breath came quick through dry lips. And she held herself back with only the most determined control.
“Your oblivion will not save me. I have to stay here and fight. There’s no escape but the one I make,” Elena said. “I can’t run away. Ultimately Grigori is going to find me. I need the alpha to fight by my side.”
“And what if the alpha devours you instead? What then?” Romanov asked.
Suddenly, the kitchen was quiet. All the servants had disappeared. The only movement was the flickering flames in the fireplace and abandoned dough rising on the table beside them. And the rise and fall of their chests as they both breathed in and out. Hers was rapid. His was slow and deliberate. She watched as his broad chest expanded and then fell as air exhaled through his lips. Was it a calming meditation? Or was he inhaling the mint fragrance he released as he continued to gently play with her hair?
The slight movement of his hand turned out to have purpose and consequences. Her hasty bun was loosened. Little by little, he freed her hair from its confinement until it tumbled down over her shoulders. She watched him as the waves came free. His eyes darkened. His lids lowered. And she still kept herself still beneath his touch. Even when he slowly threaded his fingers into the loosened waves to cup the side of her head, she didn’t move beyond her shaky breaths and her trembling body.
“You ask for more than it’s in my power to give you. I can’t control the alpha wolf. I can’t call him to fight by your side. I can only hold Bronwal. Do you understand? This place and all its people. Their ultimate fate is my responsibility,” Romanov said. But his hand tightened so that he held her even as he spoke of holding his people’s cursed universe on his shoulders, alone.
“Then I have to hope the alpha wolf will choose to help me of his own accord. Without your call. Without your permission. Lev wanted to tear me apart for disturbing the baby’s room. But Soren ran for help. He could have looked away. He could have left me to die. He didn’t. There’s a champion deep inside of him still. I have to believe the alpha wolf will be the same,” Elena said.
“The alpha hasn’t been a champion in a very long time. He’s nothing but an abandoned savage. I’m afraid he’ll turn his savagery on the world if he’s called. And, unlike Lev, there’s no one stronger to remind him of what he used to be,” Romanov said.
Elena’s spine stiffened. She drew her body back from the man who heated her bones and chilled her heart. Surprisingly, in spite of his tension and his powerful grip, he eased his fingers to let her go. She left the stool to step back from the table and from Romanov’s heat. Her leg hurt. Her body was exhausted from lack of sleep and from her battle with the elements. But she wasn’t weak. She never had been. Not even in her nightmares when she was reduced to frantic, fluttering wings.
“I’m small, but I’m stronger than you know. I will remind him,” Elena said.
Romanov’s hand had fallen to his side. He flexed his fingers open and closed as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d let her go.
“The alpha could easily crush you with only one bite,” Romanov said. “He’s an enchanted monster driven nearly mad by a relentless curse.” He stepped after her suddenly, and she was too startled to back away. He reached for her again before she could widen the gap between them. His body was only inches away. His hands clasped her shoulders and pulled her even closer, until their bodies touched in a full-length press that shocked every cell from her head to her toes. “You fear being captured by the witchblood prince, but you should fear death.”
“You endure a fate worse than death. And yet it isn’t the Ether that you fear. It’s the materialization. What new loss will each one bring? Loved ones? Your own faculties? The idea that the Dark Volkhvy will claim what you’ve defended all this time. I don’t fear the alpha wolf’s teeth because my future with Grigori will eat away at me little by little. I prefer death to that.”
Romanov’s chin rose as if he’d been slapped by her words. But he didn’t let her go. If anything, his hands tightened on her shoulders. Her breathing was shallow and quick, yet his scent enveloped her along with his heat. He’d been in the kitchen long enough that the scent of fresh baked bread clung to his skin, but it was the scent of the mountain that rose from his hair. It was a wild and snowy scent with the slightest hint of evergreen.
“You’re wrong. It’s the freedom of oblivion that I most fear. Because its call is more seductive than any I’ve ever experienced,” he said. “Until now.”
She wasn’t prepared for his hands to slide from her shoulders to her back. Instinctively, she raised her hands to brace against his chest, but somehow she ended up with fistfuls of his faded linen shirt in her hands. Its lacings hung loosened and open at the neck, and when he pulled her closer she ended up staring at the pulse that throbbed at the base of his throat.
The heat of the fire was nothing compared to the heat that radiated from his body to hers. His hands burned on the small of her back and when he spread his fingers to actually hold her waist, the burn traveled to all her intimate places. Suddenly, Grigori was the last thing on her mind. Her nightmares were replaced by fantasies.
If she kissed the pulse of his jugular, it would be a mistake, but it would be one she chose to make.
The thought was all she needed to urge her forward. She went up on her toes. She leaned. She captured his hot, salty skin between her lips. She meant the taste to be a slight indulgence, an exercise in free will. But his fierce groan, the jerk of his entire body in response and the sudden desperate clasp of his hands caused her to open her mouth to taste him more fully and bathe his pounding pulse with a flick of her tongue.
“My God, Elena,” Romanov said. His hands rose from her waist to her face, but he didn’t push her away. He pressed her closer, groaning as she responded with a nip of her teeth and suction. His skin was so hot. His pulse so strong. His passionate sounds rumbled deep in his chest and vibrated against her breasts. He was wild winter wilderness, but he melted for her. He stood alone, but she held him and pleasured him and he wasn’t alone anymore.
“You don’t want to die. You want to live,” Elena murmured against his throat.
“I crave respite,” Romanov countered. His hands stopped her kisses, but he didn’t push her far away. With the slightest pressure of his palms on each side of her head, he only made enough distance between them so that he could look down at her face. She opened her eyes. Her body was languid with desire. It pulsed in time with the heartbeat she’d tasted.
“That’s not what you crave,” Elena said. “You don’t want to disappear into the Ether. You want to feel again. You want to connect.”
“How can I resist? You awaken me. You refuse to keep the door locked against me,” Romanov said.
“I won’t be caged. I’d rather face my fears than hide from them,” she replied.
“Then you admit you fear me?” he asked. His whole body stilled as if he braced for her answer.
“I think you want me to fear you. If I’m afraid, if I run away, then you can be as numb as you have to be to stay standing,” Elena said. “But it isn’t only my kisses that wake you. It’s my cause.”
“I have all the cause I’ll ever need to stay standing, Elena Pavlova. I stand for my family. Not the Light Volkhvy. I don’t stand against the Dark. I stand against the Ether that has eaten everyone I’ve ever loved,” Romanov said. It was a hoarse confession. One that burned her eyes. “I’m not a champion. I’m a survivor. And there’s a hungry wolf at my door. I fear him. As should you.”
She drew in a startled breath when he swooped to claim her mouth, but her breath wasn’t deep or long enough to keep her from going light-headed when his lips pressed against hers. This time he chose to kiss her. Not to relieve the torture but to intensify it. He groaned as his tongue found hers and the vibration traveled with velvet licks to the V between her legs.
Elena let go of his shirt and slid her arms up, way up, and around his neck. She appreciated his height and breadth even as she held on for dear life. Her head was light. Her knees soft. But his body was solid and hard against her. There was no interruption this time. He explored the depths of her mouth fully with practiced ease that nevertheless caused his body to shudder against hers with the pleasure he found.
His lips were gentle and sensual even though they were firm, moving hungrily to devour her every gasp. His tongue was flavored with honey and wine. The stubble on his cheek and jaw was pleasantly rough against her skin.
He held her face in place for his kiss for a long time, but when he dropped his hands to lift her shirt and find her skin she cried out into his mouth at the heightened sensation of his warrior’s calloused fingers on her bare midriff.
Her cries caused him to pause, but only for a second, as if he caught himself waiting for her permission or denial, and then pressed on. She whimpered when his fingers dipped into the waistband of her pants and this time he didn’t slow or stop. He jerked her forward and she found herself straddling his bent knee. He pressed her against his leg and she whimpered again because the pleasurable pressure and friction took her by surprise.
She rocked her hips to increase it and he groaned, but he also helped her move with his powerful hands cupped around her bottom. The thrusting of his tongue matched the rhythm of her hips and she felt the rise of his erection beneath his leather pants against her right thigh.
He called out her name when she reached for him to press and measure and pet the hard length of him through the leather. His heat and size and obvious pleasure caused her to rock harder against the leg she rode, and suddenly his head fell back and their lips parted. She looked down at his face and realized he had lifted her up and braced his hips against the table until she was above him.
Romanov’s eyes were slits. His lips were swollen. His hair was a wild tumble around his face and shoulders. He looked passionate, disheveled and very touched. She continued to rub his hard shaft and move her hips and he watched her face as the ultimate pleasure finally claimed her. She cried out as she came. Her legs clenched around his muscular thigh. And his hands tightened on her, pulling her as close as she could get against him as she pulsed with the orgasm achieved while they were both still clothed and standing in the kitchen.
She collapsed against his broad chest and he held her there, not speaking, as time passed. The fire crackled. The dough hardened, neglected and forgotten. Distant sounds finally penetrated her consciousness once more.
“A long time ago I feared losing dance because it was all I had. I didn’t know what else I would do once I couldn’t dance anymore. But now I only fear Grigori. Because I’ll find my way given the chance. My purpose is in me. I only have to remain free to find it,” Elena said softly. While she spoke, she thought about the resolve in the woman’s face on the tapestry. Her expression echoed an untapped feeling in Elena’s heart. Something called to her. The discipline and dedication she’d learned in service to dance had only been preparation. There was something beckoning to her on the horizon that nearly overshadowed the dread of Grigori that permeated her past.
“Where is the sapphire sword and how do you protect it when it’s not with you?” she asked. She also wondered what had become of the ruby and emerald swords, but she didn’t want to talk about the loved ones he’d lost.
Romanov straightened and placed her limp body on the stool nearby. Even with the fire, she felt chilled as he moved away. This had been another mistake she would make all over again if she had the chance. But she was fairly certain Romanov wouldn’t. His brow was furrowed and his fists had clenched as soon as he’d placed her to the side.
“If you call the black wolf, you’ll face something darker and hungrier than your witchblood prince.” Romanov stood several feet away from her. He ignored her question about the sapphire sword. He looked tall and powerful even in a simple linen shirt that had come partially undone and scuffed leather pants. He wore no armor or furs now. He wasn’t armed. His strength was all in his honed muscles and large frame. Still, the determined set to his jaw and the planted placement of his riding boots would cause his stance to be intimidating to any adversary. Yet as he spoke of the wolf, his eyes were haunted, shadowed by real trepidation.
His concern was contagious. Elena’s heartbeat quickened and her post-orgasm languor fled. Her body stiffened and she rose from the stool to face him.
“I’m not afraid of the dark,” she said.
It was true. She wasn’t afraid of darkness. Only of being trapped. Only of having her free will taken away.
But she wasn’t blind. She could see that Romanov was genuinely afraid for her, and that knowledge caused gooseflesh to rise on her skin.
“Is there no chance, then, that the alpha wolf will choose to help me rather than hurt me?” she asked.
“He may have no choice. Like Lev, he may have been driven mad by his time in the Ether. He might no longer be a rational creature. He was always a beast that was almost impossible to control,” Romanov said. She watched his fists clench and unclench as he spoke. With his mussed hair and fire-lit eyes, he looked nearly mad himself.
But his lips were still swollen from her kisses and her mouth still tingled pleasantly with remembered sensation of the passion they’d shared.
“You don’t want me to summon the black wolf, but there are other reasons you want me to stay in the tower,” Elena said. She stepped lightly toward him. He didn’t back away. Because there was nowhere to go or because he secretly wanted her closer? Liked her closer? Would take her as close as possible if her quest for the wolf wasn’t standing in their way?
“Every day you spend in Bronwal is potentially deadly. You court disaster every time you leave the tower,” Romanov said.
“Do I court disaster by leaving the tower or by searching for the alpha wolf and finding you instead?” Elena said. She knew the answer. They had kissed. She’d experienced an earth-shattering orgasm. And yet there was so much more that could happen between them. It would be a disaster to allow the attraction between them to take them where it wanted to go. But she would choose to follow it if she could because it would be a glorious disaster she had chosen for herself after years of following a course set by others.
She’d narrowed the gap between them. He could have turned away to leave the room. He hadn’t. He had watched and waited as she approached. His eyes were bright and his wild hair made her fingers twitch. But he was also simmering with a rising emotion that tasted like anger in the air. There were clouds darkening his expression, and his body appeared so tense and tight that his tendons might snap if he deigned to move an inch.
Elena, the deceptively delicate swan who was made of mercilessly trained muscle and bone rather than feathers, continued bravely until her toes stopped inches from his. She tilted her chin to meet his thunderous gaze.
“I’m lost. I can’t be found,” Romanov said. “You think you have found me instead of the wolf you seek, but you’ve found nothing. No one. A castle full of ghosts.”
“It wasn’t a ghost that pleasured my body moments ago,” Elena said. She didn’t reach for him. She wouldn’t force herself on him. But there was more to his resistance than fear for her safety. He protected Bronwal, but he also protected himself. He’d lost too much to care again.
Her body trembled at his nearness. She vibrated with need. His body must do the same. That’s why he held himself so still and tight. Because the pull between them was elemental and fierce.
“We’re snowed in. Trapped together. But the Volkhvy Gathering comes closer every day,” Romanov said.
“I will find the alpha wolf before the Gathering,” Elena warned him. “And I will either be devoured or I will gain his trust.”
“Trust moldered to dust in this place many years ago,” Romanov replied. “Lev and Soren guard the last blade. They will sound the alarm if Dark Volkhvy appear. The other blades disappeared into the Ether and never returned. It’s best you forget they ever existed. In time, the sapphire blade will disappear, as well.”
Romanov finally broke away from the invisible magnetism that seemed to hold them together. He walked around her to the counter, picked up the remainder of a loaf of bread, then strode out the door without another word. Elena more slowly and thoughtfully followed suit. The bread was cooled, but still delicious, and she needed to keep herself fueled.
Imaging the sapphire blade winking out of existence caused her insides to hollow in spite of the bread she consumed. She wasn’t sure why. But she had an instinct that the blade must remain in Bronwal in order for Romanov to survive. The blade was a part of the puzzle here. One she was determined to solve. One she was compelled to solve the same way she’d been compelled by the legends from the time she’d first heard her grandmother’s tales.
Maybe the blade could help her against Grigori whether or not she was able to summon the alpha wolf.
Lev and Soren guard the last blade.
The last bite of bread she chewed was hard to swallow past the sudden lump of fear that closed her throat. She would have to face the red wolf...and the white in order to approach the sapphire sword again. And she wouldn’t be able to stay away. Suddenly, she was certain that all her questions would be answered if she could hold the sapphire sword one more time.
For the few seconds she’d held the blade in her hands, she’d felt something in the cool wash of adrenaline that had flooded her veins. She’d heard something in her pounding heart. Then she’d fallen backward and the blade had slipped from her fingers and the feeling was gone.
But the memory of it remained.
And she’d seen the echo of it in the eyes of the woman on the tapestry in the baby’s room.
* * *
He had failed to resist their connection. In fact, he’d done the opposite. He’d gloried in her passion. He’d soaked up every noise, every reaction—from the salty perspiration on her upper lip to the powerful thrust of her petite hips. He’d helped her achieve a shuddering climax, and the surprisingly supple bottom he’d kneaded while she clenched and came had almost sent him over the edge himself. Not to mention the heat of her against his leg and the curiosity of her fingers as she’d measured him through his pants.
It had been heaven and hell.
Heaven because her taste and touch had enflamed him faster and hotter than anyone before. Hell because he’d wanted to tear off her clothes and taste more than her lips. He’d wanted to feel her heat intimately with nothing in the way. He still did. His imagination had been given more fuel to work with and it had already been torturing him, day and night.
He was hard and ready. His mind filled with images of her spread beneath him. She would open. She would be slick with passion. She’d already shown him her hunger. He wanted to stoke her pleasure higher than he’d been able to with only the pressure of his thigh. He wanted to play her with his hand. He wanted to lick and tease until she begged him to join with her.
He’d watched her orgasm, but he’d never seen her bare breasts.
With her blond hair, blue eyes and porcelain skin, he could picture rosy nipples to match her rosy lips. He ached to see and suckle them. He was in a frenzy to explore for other rosy treasures, as well.
He went for the practice field. There was nothing else he could do.
Nothing short of a full-on shift would scare her in the face of her determination, but how could he loose the wolf when what he wanted most was to be a man in her arms? How could he purposefully frighten a woman who was obviously drawn to the sapphire blade?
Because, in the end, he would have no choice. She had to leave for the good of Bronwal and for her own good. He couldn’t allow her to bond with the blade. He’d have to risk a shift to scare her away. She thought she wanted to find the black wolf, but once she saw him she would change her mind.
The enchanted monster inside of his soul howled with glee at the idea of freedom. He hadn’t run beneath the light of the moon on four massive paws in decades. Since long before he’d seen the last glimpse of Soren’s human face. His desire for Elena wasn’t helping. It only made him feel more desperate to make her leave before he lost control. If she didn’t want him in return, he could more easily ignore his need to claim her. But her obvious hunger for his touch shook him to the core.
Only he could guarantee that she made the right decision. She couldn’t be allowed near the sword again. Of that, he was certain. Beyond that, if marauding Volkhvy and Lev weren’t enough to force her away, he would have to take matters into his own hands.
Elena had come to Bronwal to seek help from the alpha wolf. But it was the alpha howling inside of his chest that had to frighten her away.