If Munro and I were truly in a battle of wills, I might lose.
That was Ren’s first thought when she spied him dressed for dinner, awaiting her as she exited the bathroom. Her second thought: He’s the most devastating male I’ve ever beheld.
His face was shaven, his bronzed skin smooth. His thick, dark hair reached his collar. Black leather pants and a fitted white shirt highlighted his muscular physique.
At her wedding, she’d considered him a savage animal. Now she scarcely believed that she’d caressed this immortal’s body. Had touched the tip of his—
“What a beauty you are, Kereny.” His gaze went molten as it leisurely roamed over her. His spellbinder’s smile revealed white, even teeth. “You take my breath away.”
Her mind momentarily blanked at that smile. It called on her body to relax, but she couldn’t.
She’d never had more work to do. “Magic can do wonders,” she said crisply, though the Dream Duds had taken some getting used to.
When she’d applied the charm to her forearm, her skin had absorbed it. In moments, the blood and mud covering her had disappeared until her hair and body smelled as if she’d just stepped from a bath.
She’d imagined clothes, then sucked in a breath when silk underpants and a bandeau brassiere appeared. Next had come a white blouse, fawn-colored pants, and a fitted vest like the cobalt one Vanda had embroidered for her. Sleek hunting boots and a new holster for her blade had rounded out her ensemble.
As the holster materialized around her upper arm, the compression had reassured her. Time to get to work. . . .
The wolf drew closer, giving her a hint of his stone-pine scent, and her heartbeat thudded. “Once you have hearing like mine,” he murmured, “you’ll know my heart reacts the same way to you.”
Warmth flushed her cheeks. “Then by all means, I must become a Lykae at once.” She snapped her fingers in the air. “A magical ring, please!”
He chuckled, a rich, raspy sound that made her belly clench. Still smiling, he said, “The nymphs just brought over our meal.” He offered his arm. “Shall we?” So now he was to be all charm and good humor?
When she took his arm, potent chemistry sparked between them. Damn that wolf. Even Jacob had seen some kind of tie between her and the Lykae.
As they headed to the dining area, she used the time to collect herself, which meant looking at anything but the towering male beside her.
The guesthouse enchanted her anew. Tasteful tapestries adorned the walls, and wood beams curved along the ceilings. The windows displayed twilight views of the spectacular Transylvanian landscape.
To the east, the Carpathians loomed, bordered by the Cursed Forest. To the west spread verdant hills, dotted with shepherd huts.
Maybe once she returned to her time, she would bring Jacob to this valley and tell him all about her unbelievable adventure.
In the meantime, she and Munro would be forced to share this “romantic” guesthouse—home of many conceptions. Iona expected Ren and Munro to consummate their matehood tonight. Did he?
At the idea, tingles raced from Ren’s scalp to her toes.
“You’re wearing your poker face,” he said. “Our battle of wills is afoot, no?”
She cast him a confident smile. “Oh, Munro, you’ll only be able to discern my moves in retrospect.” He had no idea of her grand plans—or his role in them.
Eyes lively, he said, “I look forward to it.”
They entered the dining room. Candles on the table and a fire in the tiled hearth lent the area a soft glow. The opened windows allowed in the tinkling cadence of wind chimes.
Aromatic scents carried from steaming platters. Despite her nervousness—what exactly would a Lykae eat?—her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t had a bite since before the wedding. She and Vanda had taken a light repast, enjoying fruit, spiced tea, and sparkling conversation. At the memory, a pang twisted Ren’s chest.
Munro pulled out a high-backed chair near the fire and gestured for her to sit.
She obliged him. “One could almost mistake you for a gentleman.”
“Relish this moment, then, for that is no’ often the case.” He crossed to the sideboard. “What’s your drink?”
“Brandy. A small amount.”
He poured one for her and a whiskey for himself. Aside from his short black claws, his hands and fingers looked human and were as well-formed as everything else about him.
As he offered her the brandy, their fingers touched. When currents jolted between them from that tiny contact, doubts arose about her plan. What if Lothaire didn’t get back to Loa for years? Ren feared she wouldn’t be able to resist this chemistry for another night, much less a decade!
Munro took a seat at the table. “You hide it well, but my Instinct is warning me that your nerves are frayed.”
How could they not be? Everything was up in the air. Should she hate him for stealing her from her life, or thank him for saving it? Do I count on seeing everyone I love again—or grieve them?
Even her feelings about Loreans were in flux. In one day, she’d encountered kindness from a voodoo priestess, graciousness from the nymphs, and gentle patience from a random storm demon.
Her Lykae kidnapper/possible rescuer flirted with her, his charisma at full force.
What if everything Ren had thought she’d known about immortals was wrong?
Didn’t mean she wanted to become one. She met Munro’s gaze. “I am unsettled. Dinner with a werewolf will do that to a human. Will Iona wheel in a carcass for the second course?”
His lips quirked. “I do love a well-seasoned carcass.”
He was teasing her? “I’m serious. I know little about your species.”
“Then dine with me and learn more. You might discover we Lykae have a lethal food allergy.”
“True. Let’s eat.”
The nymphs had left a bounty: potato bread, salad with honey and cheese, a platter of goulash, and another with grilled steak and vegetables. As Ren ladled selections onto her plate, his gaze followed her every movement.
Her senses remained heightened around him. The food scents were more sublime. The deep, husky notes of his Highland brogue seemed to caress her skin, even as his attention kept her on edge.
Munro served himself, then sampled his meal with impeccable table manners. “Mayhap I’m starving, but this is startlingly good.”
She tasted some of the goulash and went heavy-lidded. “Delicious.” It was spiced with caraway seeds and dressed with the perfect amount of sour cream, just as Vanda made it.
Now, a hundred years later, the world was so different, but at least Ren’s favorite dish remained the same. What else had endured?
What hadn’t?
“Where are your thoughts, lass?”
“On the passage of time and changes. You told me you’d teach me about this era tomorrow, but what about a few general things? I’ve read books set in the future. I want to know if anything matches up.”
“Ask away.”
Questions that had filled her overworked brain scurried as if from an opened door. So she snared a couple of the closest: “Do people live on the moon?”
“Humans have accomplished landings only. No colonies or anything like that.”
“Are there female political leaders?” She took a sip of her drink. Ah, plum brandy. Her favorite.
“More than there were in your time, but no’ nearly enough.”
She arched her brows. “You think there should be more?”
“In the Lore, we have a good number of them. They do a fine job. Why would it be different for humans?”
Why indeed? “Loa said she preferred this time. Do you think I would?”
She expected him to say, Of course you will because it’s the best!
He opened his mouth to speak, then seemed to rethink his answer. “I will no’ give you my opinion of this time. How can a Scottish immortal male speculate on what a Transylvanian woman’s experience will be like?”
As soon as she’d decided he was the most wrongheaded, obstinate Lorean ever born, he would say something that spoke of a fair sensibility.
“You’re a clever female, Kereny. You’ll form your own opinion.”
I always do. “I’m curious what Loa’s species is.” The priestess was brimming with powers, yet she feared her fate as one of Dorada’s debtors.
“Most canna determine it through scent or sight. And a Lykae’s Instinct will come up flummoxed.”
“You two have a romantic history, do you not?”
“We kissed once.” He shrugged. “It was no’ what either of us hoped for, so we left it at that.”
Ren pictured the two of them kissing, and jealousy seethed. If Munro continued getting under her skin, then she couldn’t return to her time fast enough. Keep your tunnel of focus on the goal. “What do you know about Dorada?”
“More than most. Prince Garreth and his mate saw her before her ring was stolen, when she was still a dried-up husk of a mummy.”
“A mummy?” Ren had read about them, but she’d never seen one.
He nodded. “Dorada rose to hunt for her precious ring, following its call to the Order’s prison installation, the same one where my brother was a captive.”
Munro had said the Order had experimented on his brother. And I asked for their address. Her cheeks heated. “Did he encounter her?”
“Aye. She was still regenerating when she stormed the prison. Will described her as an eerie, rotting witch, moaning for her riiiinnnnngggg.”
Yet Munro intended to bargain with such a creature? Continuing her ruse, Ren said, “As long as her ring works, I don’t care what she looks like.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He switched his knife and fork between hands to cut his steak. Ren had witnessed those long fingers snatching heads from necks, yet now they deftly maneuvered silverware.
Stop staring at his fingers!
“I’m curious about circus life,” he said. “Tell me about your act. Did you throw knives at an assistant on a spinning wheel?”
“Yes, the villagers love the wheel of death.” When she’d first set her sights on that feat, she’d asked herself, How difficult can it be to throw daggers at a person strapped to a moving wheel? Her determination had answered, Very. But you can do that, and far, far more. “The income helps fund the circus’s efforts.”
He took another swig from his glass. His drink of choice reminded her of his words: Have no’ had a nip of whiskey, nor a female beneath me . . .
Her thoughts tumbled to that sinful play with him in the cave, stoking her arousal. If she didn’t get herself under control, he’d probably be able to scent his effect on her. Would he try to capitalize on it?
“Did you enjoy performing?” he asked in an even tone as he took another bite. Maybe he was so experienced with females—with the nymphs who would be weepin’ from the loss of his “service”—that this was just another romantic dinner for him.
One of a million over his long, long life.
“I did enjoy performing.” Needled by jealousy, she added, “The exhilaration from a great show could only be equaled by a great hunt.”
He didn’t rise to the bait. “Tell me about the other circus members.”
She saw no reason not to. “Vanda, the fortune-teller, has been my mentor for years. She and Puideleu, the lion tamer, are inseparable. They’re like my grandparents. Jacob’s too. He adores the pair.”
“Does he, then?” And Munro accused her of poker face? He was good at hiding his expressions, but tension had crept into his shoulders at the mention of Jacob’s name. “Your parents were part of the circus too, I assume. What were they like?”
Ren pushed food around on her plate, too keyed up to eat more. “By day, Matei Codrina was a horse trainer known among the carnies for his soft touch and amazing results. Stefania was a knife thrower of renown, with more mettle than a thousand men. By night, my father was a tracker who always found his prey, and my mother never missed her target. They were legendary together.”
Until they’d been outnumbered.
“You must miss them.” When she gave a nod, he asked, “How did they die?”
Ren’s throat tightened at the memory, and she pushed her plate away. “Perhaps I’ll tell you more about my family history—in the future.”
“Verra well.” Concern in his golden eyes, he said, “You must be done in.”
“I’m used to going without sleep.” Still, the weight of everything that had happened threatened to overwhelm her. But she had work to do, keeping Munro off the scent of her true plans.
He believed he was in a position of power. Good. She knew the truth.
You are my bait, wolf. And you can never know it.