Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2014 by Melissa F. Hart. All rights reserved worldwide.
No part of this book may be replicated, redistributed, or given away in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, without the prior written consent of the author/publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Books in the series
The Book of Unbound Chains - Volume 1
Dreams of a Restless Sleep - Volume 2
The Wolf Released - Volume 3
***
Synopsis
Book One: The Book of Unbound Chains
Tara spends her days teaching at the local college and her nights dreaming of something more, but she never thought that picking up a strange old book at a used bookstore could change her life like this! Before she knew it, there were monstrous winged creatures knocking on her door, and the handsome but mysterious werewolf Mads Magnussen coming through her window!
Tara's careless purchase sets off a chain of events that put her body and her heart to the test, and soon she realizes that there is far more to the world than she has ever considered.
Book Two: Dreams of a Restless Sleep
Thrust into the middle of an ancient conflict between werewolves and the beings who call themselves angels, Tara has learned to face dangers that she never knew existed. Now she has sworn to help the werewolf leader Mads Magnussen wake up the ferocious Fenrisulfir, the legendary leader of his kind, but along the way, she realizes that Mads may not be telling her the whole truth.
As if that wasn't enough, now they are faced by the formidable being known as the Three in One, and Tara soon sees that some of her greatest enemies come from inside her own heart and soul.
Book Three: The Wolf Released
Mads and Tara's journey has taken them to the heart of Scotland, the ancestral home of Mads' people. As they come closer and closer to their goal of waking the wolf, Tara comes to understand that her heart will always belong to Mads, but what does Mads most desire? Their love burns as bright as a bonfire, but there are dark shadows on Mads' heart, ones that could destroy them both.
As Tara and Mads approach an end to their hunt, and as the angels close in. Tara is forced to see Mads for who he is. Now she has a choice to make: will she stay by his side, or must she find a way to free herself with the help of an enigmatic winged man who calls himself Lukas?
***
The Book of Unbound Chains
Dreams of a Restless Sleep
The Wolf Released
***
***
It all began in a bookstore.
The day should have been perfect. It was a bright and warm day, she had just finished grading her students' final papers, and the university itself was buzzing with the energy of being finally free of a cold wet spring. It was the perfect day, unless you were Professor Tara Roth, who had previously dated the man who was making his way down the street toward her with a gorgeous blonde on his arm.
Tara, who had had nothing on her mind besides possibly lunch at her favorite Thai place, felt a blush of panic and shame creep up over her face, and before she knew it, she had dodged in the doors of the used bookstore.
As the heavy door closed behind her and she watched her ex pass by with her replacement on his arm, she sighed at herself. It was a little silly to be this distraught over a relationship that had lasted only a few months, but she’d had a good feeling that had turned out, as it so often had, to be false.
“Oh, Tara dear, welcome back. Are you looking for more cookbooks?”
Mrs. Pillson was the elderly proprietor of the used bookstore, and she smiled kindly at the young woman who stood so sadly in the entryway.
Tara Roth was twenty-eight, but with her slender figure, round face, and mass of ash-blond curls, she could have passed easily for one of her own students. She tried to dress up in skirts, leggings and cardigans, but she always had the sneaking suspicion that she looked like a little girl playing dress up.
She shook her head at Mrs. Pillson, who had a habit of lightly mothering everyone who came in the door.
“No, I'm still working my way through the last one I bought, but thank you. Is there anything new?”
Tara figured that even if her love life was doomed to end in with a whimper rather than a bang, her fantasy life didn't have to. She was an avid reader and had been since she was a child. It led to her life-long love of language and words, and eventually, to a scholarship to study ancient linguistics in France.
She drifted toward the New Arrivals cart that Mrs. Pillson pointed out and ran her finger haphazardly across the spines of elderly romances and self-help books. She was wondering if she was looking at her future, spent entirely in used bookstores and take-out Thai when she blinked and noticed something different.
The book was small but thick, and to her surprise, it seemed to be bound in genuine leather. There was no name on the spine, but when she opened it up, she was greeted by a vivid red illustration of a dragon chained to a pillar, surrounded by words she thought she recognized.
It had the look and feel of some of the manuscripts she had worked with, the ones from the very earliest days of printing, but she knew that was foolishness. Those books were worth hundreds of thousands of dollars, and there was a faint sticky spot on this book where Mrs. Pillson had probably scraped off an old price sticker. Still, it was odd and the leather cover was attractive, so she brought it up to the front.
“Oh, that's part of that strange lot that came in the other day,” said Mrs. Pillson, checking the price she had lightly penciled into the front cover. “Hm, I said ten for this, but we'll just say five for you, dear.”
Tara smiled, because if Mrs. Pillson continued to treat her like a broke college student, she wasn't going to complain too loudly.
She only remembered the book after she had finished her dinner that night. There was still a chilly bite to the spring air, and she was cozily wrapped in a blanket on the couch. Turning off the television, she fetched the book from its plastic bag and opened it curiously.
Now that she was looking at it much more closely, she realized that it was indeed very old. Her area of expertise was in the words, not the pages that they were written on, however, so she turned her attention to them instead.
It was not Latin or Coptic, as she had assumed, but instead it was a code, one used by a group of people who considered themselves wizards. They were known as the Sybelline Brotherhood, and she had done her thesis on them just four years ago. An odd shock ran down her spine as she realized that this must be a piece of writing from the same group that she had spent so much time researching.
They were strange men, convinced that they held the keys to the universe, and now, she was holding something that she was becoming more and more certain was part of their library. Her excitement rose, and she hastily opened her laptop, consulting her notes on their strange code. There were perhaps five people in the world who would have even known where to start when confronted with this book, and Tara was one of them.
In a fever of excitement, she wrote down the words that she saw in the book, typing them hastily onto her computer. She was so consumed by the act of translation that she didn't even look up to see what she had until she had finished.
“For the freeing of things once caged, and for setting right the wrongs that have been done...” she murmured in confusion. Deep inside her, she felt a cold shiver, something that chilled her to her fingertips.
Things are changing, she thought incoherently, and for a moment, Tara was almost frightened.
The moment passed, and she started to laugh at her own silliness. The Sybelline Brotherhood was a group of rich men with too much time on their hands, she reminded herself. They had produced some fascinating works, and they offered a glimpse into the mystical minds of the era, but no matter what fantasies they spun, they meant nothing in the new era. She knew this.
The knock on the door nearly made her jump straight out of her blankets. Then she remembered that a knock meant that there was someone at the door and, pulling her robe over pajamas, she went to investigate.
Her hand was just on the knob when her window exploded inwards. The shattering glass was terrifyingly loud, and she instinctively threw herself to the ground, covering her head with her arms. When she looked up, she realized that she was completely unhurt, but now there was a wild-looking man standing in her living room.
He was tall enough that he seemed like a giant in her home, and she froze as his startlingly bright blue eyes roved the room. He saw her crouched by the door, and with a sound like a bestial growl, he strode toward her as she tried desperately to push herself to her feet.
His hand clamped like an iron band around her shoulder, hauling her to her feet, and he loomed over her, menace etched in ever line of his body.
“Where is it?” he growled. “You have it; you must tell me where it is.”
Gulping back a whimper of fear, Tara tried to tell him that her purse and her wallet were on the table, that he should take it as long he left her alone, but she couldn't make the words come out. Her voice shivered and shook, and for a brief moment, the intruder looked almost repentant.
He started to speak, but then the knocking at her door came again. No, not knocking, pounding, and to Tara's shock, she saw the door, heavy and steel, start to bend inwards.
The man swore in a language that Tara's distracted mind recognized as Scandinavian of some sort and thrust her behind him.
“I'm sorry,” he whispered. “Damn me for a fool but I have led them right to you.”
She knew that she should be running to her bedroom where she could lock the door, or that she should take her chances going through the window that had been broken. Instead, she skittered back and away, unable to take her eyes off the man who was staring so ferociously at her door.
“Come on, come on, you feathery son of a bitch.”
The man crouched like an angry animal, and as they both waited, the door bent further and further until one final blow flattened it, revealing the thing behind it.
Tara caught a glimpse of wings tall enough to brush her ceiling, and a face that was ruined with scars before the thing was borne to the ground by a snarling whirlwind of fur and teeth.
Her brain refused to believe what her eyes told her. Where there had been a man, there was now a wolf, and it hit the thing in the door with a demented snarl. She was frozen to the spot, unable to do anything, unable to breathe or scream or call for help, but then she saw the winged being wrestle the wolf to the ground. The menacing growls turned to a pained, choked howl, and now she acted on instinct alone.
It took two steps to the large heavy vase on the table, and three steps to the fight on the ground. With a calm and grace that would always surprise her in years to come, she brought the heavy vase down hard on the winged thing’s head. The vase shattered into a thousand shards, and the winged thing uttered a startled shriek that sounded like sharpened nails over chalkboard.
It drew away for a moment, giving the wolf enough of a chance to bound to its feet and chase it again. The winged being seemed to decide that that was enough, and in a flurry of feathers that dragged a cold wind into the room, it plunged out the window and was gone.
The adrenaline that had been holding Tara up let go abruptly, and she wound up on the floor, her teeth chattering hard. She couldn't seem to keep her eyes open, and the next thing she was aware of was a pair of warm, strong hands wrapping around her shoulder.
“Oh, hell below,” the man swore. “Are you hurt? Did that bastard harm you?”
He’s back. The wolf is gone and he is back.
She shook her head as best she could, but she couldn't make herself speak. The man stared at her, confused and concerned, and it occurred to her that he was quite handsome. He was clean-shaven, with features that were perhaps a little too rugged to be conventionally handsome, and his mouth, even when twisted into a worried frown, was almost shockingly sensual. His hair, she could see now, was a deep brown, cut too long for fashion, and with just a hint of a curl at the ends. He filled up the space like a stone, solid, immoveable and strong, but she had seen how fast he had moved, and how powerful he was.
She was too shocked and cold to do much more than whimper when he lifted her up in his arms, and then all she could do was be grateful for his warmth and the solid bulk of him against her.
“I'm sorry, precious, but we have to move,” he said urgently. “That coward's gone, but his friends will be back, and though I wish to god you could take them all out with pottery, that just won't work.”
She chuckled a little dryly at his words, but even that took enough effort that she fell silent, burrowing into his comforting warmth. The smell of him was warm and woodsy, and underneath it, there was something so elementally male she couldn't resist a soft sigh.
He made a clicking sound with his tongue to get her attention, and when she looked up, he nodded.
“This is important, love,” he said softly. “Where's the book?”
In all of the fright and fear of the past few minutes, she had forgotten about the book that seemed to cause it all. After a blank moment, she pointed at the table, where the leather-bound volume sat so innocently, unharmed by the flying glass.
The man who held her so carefully picked it up with reverence, sliding it into the inner pocket of his long leather coat, and with nothing more than that, he leaped out the broken window, carrying her safe and sound in his arms.
***
When she woke up, Tara had dim memories of moving with great speed, of being carried by a man who seemed unnaturally strong, and of feeling almost shockingly safe. The remnants of those memories clung to her when she awoke, and it took her a few moments to realize that she wasn't in her own bed at all.
Instead, she realized that she was sleeping on what felt like a feather mattress, tucked tight under a thick quilt that smelled of pine and sage. Startled, she sat up, and by the light of the fireplace nearby, she saw the shape of the man who had taken her.
“Who... who are you?” she asked, her voice stumbling and small. She staggered to her feet, relieved to see that she was still wearing her flannel pajamas. She took a few lurching steps toward the man, suddenly furious, and he held his hands up.
“I'm not going to hurt you,” he said softly, and she could sense real regret in his voice. “I'm sorry that what happened last night occurred, but if I hadn't stepped in, it would have been a lot worse, believe me.”
Tara shuddered at the thought of the scarred, winged thing that had broken down her door, shaking her head.
“This isn't real,” she muttered, pressing her hand against her throbbing head. “This can't be real.”
“I'm very much afraid it is,” he said, stepping a little closer to her. “And I am sorry to say that you are right in the middle of it.”
“I haven't done anything...” Tara trailed off when she realized how close he was. She should have been frightened out of her wits, but instead, this man's presence made her feel safe. She resisted the urge to reach up and pet him, pulling her hand back at the last minute, and his lips twitched in a quick smile as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.
“I haven't done anything wrong,” she continued lamely, retreating to sit back on the bed.
It was probably the wrong move because he came to sit down next to her on it. In all fairness, there did not seem to be any other chairs in the room. The mattress dipped under his weight and now she was imagining how it would feel to lie down with him on it.
“You haven't,” he agreed, looking at her with those bright blue eyes. “You've just been dragged into the center of something that by all rights should have nothing to do with you.”
“And what is that?” she asked archly. She did her best to ignore how much she liked the way he tilted his head to listen to her and how the lines of his body made her want to touch him. He had stripped out of the leather coat, and now she could see how broad his shoulders were and how thickly muscled he was dressed only in a T-shirt and a pair of black jeans that looked as if they had been painted on.
“A war,” he said, after a long moment. From the suddenly hungry look in his eyes, she thought he could feel the attraction between them too, and he levered himself off of the bed, going to pace on the floor instead.
“My name is Mads Magnussen, the alpha of the Cairn Rock pack,” he said.
“Pack...” Tara murmured. “Like wolves?”
“Close. Men who walk as wolves sometimes.”
Her memory flashed back to something that she had been sure was a hallucination, to the wolf that growled so terrifyingly and defended her from the winged monster she had seen.
“That's impossible,” she stuttered, staring at the man who called himself Mads, and he smiled slightly. It transformed the lines of his face, giving him a look of such sweetness that for a moment her breath was taken away.
He shrugged, or at least, he started to shrug, and between one blink and the next, there was no man in front of her but a wolf instead. Tara felt her jaw drop, and the massive wolf lolled out its tongue in a surprisingly dog-like smile.
Hesitantly, she reached out her hand to the animal, still not certain that it was the man she had been talking to before despite what she had seen right before her eyes. The wolf waited patiently as she faltered, and then when she was brave enough to rest her palm on his broad head, whimpered happily.
“How beautiful you are,” she whispered, and the wolf nudged her hand with its cold nose, so puppy-like that she laughed. Despite the wolf's size and strength, which she had seen demonstrated for her in the ruin of her home, she could see nothing but humor and good will in every line of its body.
“I had a dog when I was young,” she said, talking almost to herself. “A big German Shepherd. My family got him when he was a puppy, and he was my best friend for fourteen years.”
The wolf snorted, and if he had been capable, she thought he might have rolled his eyes. Despite his shape, there was no mistaking him for a true animal. Tara looked into those bright blue eyes and knew without a doubt that there was a man there.
The wolf shivered, and there was a man in front of her again, his eyes bright and dancing, and a little bit of mischief in his eyes.
“So?” he asked. “Have you seen enough to go screaming into the night?”
“Where would I go?” asked Tara in amusement. “There's little enough left of my home after what you and that... that thing did.”
Mads nodded somberly. “The angel,” he said, and there was a grim edge to his voice that made her shiver.
“Angel? That didn't look like any angel I have ever seen.”
He hesitated, and he came to sit by her again. This time she was ready for the tingle of attraction she felt for him, and the lurch of her stomach, but then he took her hand, holding it in his like it was something precious.
“I am going to tell you things, and you must believe me that they are true. This is a story that you should not know, not as human as you are, but you deserve this story, you understand?”
“You don't even know my name,” Tara said, a little startled, and he smiled.
“I know better than your name,” he said, squeezing her hand with a surprising amount of intimacy. “I know that you smell of ink and paper, and that you had a cheese sandwich for lunch. I know that you keep fresh flowers in that poor home that I and that angel so carelessly ruined. I know that you use juniper soap and a lavender shampoo. I know other things beyond that, and you're worried I don't know your name?”
“It's Tara, anyway,” she said, a blush coming up on her cheeks. She wondered if he could smell desire too, and the slightly slumberous look in his eyes made her certain that he did.
“Tara,” he said, rolling the sounds across his tongue. He nodded, satisfied at something and continued. “There are stories that explain our war. These stories go back thousands of years, and they change depending on who tells them. I'm not versed in our history, not like a historian or a storyteller would be, so I will only tell you what I know. Once, there was a time when we hunted for the angels. We were the wolves who were chosen to serve, and from the legends of our people, we served well. We hunted, we tracked, and we killed, and one day, we simply refused to do it anymore.”
“What happened?” wondered Tara.
Mads smiled, a wry thing. “No one knows, exactly. The story I heard said that Fenrisulfir, the great wolf king of the era, said that the wolves would stand apart from the angels, that they would only hunt for themselves. The angels, as you might expect, did not think very much of that. Ever since then, my people have been fighting for their freedom. We are hunted wherever angels fly, and well, you suffered the result of that yourself.”
“You came to my window and that... the angel came to my door,” Tara said softly. “Why?”
He nodded at the book she had found. It lay on the small table by the bed, as innocent as a novel someone had tossed aside.
“That's the game changer,” he said softly. “That is what I've been looking for quite some time now, and that's what the angels want to keep away from me.”
“It's a book to free things, to open doors,” Tara said hesitantly. “Mads, what do you need freed?”
“Fenrisulfir,” Mads replied, and there was such a tone of reverence and hope to the single name that it made her ache.
“He's our great hero, our King Arthur. He sleeps, but our legends speak of a time when he will rise up to lead us, to help us win this war.”
“It sounds like a story...”
“Did you think that werewolves were a fairytale before tonight, too?” he asked, amused, and she had to concede his point.
“But what do I have to do with any of this?” Tara shook her head. “I... I just had the book, surely I can give it to you, can't I?”
“I'm afraid not, dear,” Mads said regretfully. “They know of you now, and they know that you're with me. You cannot leave, not with your life, and I've enough sins on my head that I cannot allow you to come to harm.”
It sounded perfectly seriously. He had saved her life. Still, there was something there that made Tara look twice, and for a very long moment, she stared at him, her dark brown eyes meeting his. He met her gaze steadily at first, but after a moment, he dropped his eyes. If he had been in his wolf form, she was sure that he would have tucked his tail between his legs.
“You stared me down,” he said in surprise. “Do you have any idea—”
“You're hiding something from me,” she said bluntly. She couldn't always tell a liar, but she knew when someone was keeping something from her, and she could see that was exactly what Mads was doing.
“I don't know why you are hiding something from me, and I don't know what it is. However, unless you tell me the truth right now, I am going to walk out of here and if I run into an angel, maybe he'll give me a better story.”
“No!”
Mads voice was like a shot in the small room, and his hand shot out to wrap around her wrist. She flinched instinctively, ready to pull away, but despite his speed and his strength, he held her wrist so gently that she blinked.
“You mustn't,” he said urgently. “They're evil things, Tara, you must believe me, and they would as soon tear you to pieces as look at you. You saw what the bastard I fought did to your door.”
She studied him for a long moment, and she nodded. “That I believe. Now what's the rest of it?”
He nodded, but he didn't release her hand. She wondered if it should have made her feel trapped, but instead she found herself holding it more tightly.
“The rest is that I need you,” he said softly. “You can read the words of the book, can you not?”
Hesitantly, Tara nodded, and she felt his grip on her fingers tighten before he relaxed again.
“I need to wake Fenrisulfir, for my people, for my family. We've been hunted for centuries, Tara, and I've only ever known a life of war and fear. I want better for my brothers, and I want better for my cousins. The legends say that Fenrisulfir must be awakened to end the war, and that was the only thing that would take me from my family. I do swear that, Tara, on my life.”
Mads paused, and when he spoke again, there was a resolution to his voice that she hadn't heard before. “I need someone who can read the book, who can say the words at the place where Fenrisulfir sleeps. I need someone who can open that door for me, and Tara, I am so sorry, but I think it must be you.”
She started to protest. Surely there was someone else. Surely there was a man or woman more capable, more qualified, but when she picked up the book again, she knew there wasn’t. When it came to this particular language, this particular book, there were perhaps a handful of people who had her level of expertise.
“I'm asking no small thing here,” Mads continued soberly. “Where I would take you, your life will be in danger, and perhaps even more than that. All I can tell you is that I will guard you with my life and every breath I have in me.”
“Why would you do this?” she found herself asking, and there was that wolfish fierceness on his face again.
“For my family, for my people. For our survival, and that is what your help would mean as well, Tara. I'm not asking you to risk your life for wealth or for fame. I would never, not a woman like you. I know that. If it were for money alone, I can tell that you would order me away. I'm asking you to risk your life for our survival, mine and my kin's.”
She wavered. Something tugged at her, something strange and sideways and sly.
“Prove it to me,” she said, her voice a challenge. “You've shown me that you are a wolf, now show me that you are who you say you are, that there are people who love and depend on you.”
He hesitated, and she wondered if she had caught him out. After a long moment, though, Mads nodded.
“Yes, you should see this too,” he said, sounding heartbroken.
He stood, and in a single moment, he pulled his T-shirt over his head. Tara made a startled squeak, and for a moment, all she could see was how beautiful his body was, how the lines of muscles chiseled into his frame made her ache to run her fingers over them. Then she gasped, because his entire body was covered with scars, most faint white lines over his tanned flesh, but some as stark and raised as mountain ranges. There were heavy scars, twisted and knotted, on his right shoulder, and now that she looked, she could see a long scar that ran from under one ear down to his collarbone.
He wasn't trying to show her his scars, however, and after a shocked moment, she realized that there were a series of small black tattoos over his heart. He knelt down in front of her so she could see them better, and now she could see that they were a series of triangles, point down, like a line of fangs across his skin. There were five of them, and she could tell that they were old.
“The triangle stands for the Cairn Rock pack,” Mads said. “Each one is someone I could not protect.”
He took her small hand in his large one, and he brought her fingertips to the first mark.
“This was for Dag. We grew up together, and the angels killed him while we were on patrol.”
He moved her hand to the second mark.
“This is for Alfhilde, who was like a sister to me and a daughter to my parents. We took her in after angels killed her parents, and she went out looking to revenge them. She never came back.”
Tara shivered at the grief in his voice, but even though a part of her wanted to pull away, another part of her wanted to draw even closer.
“This was for Halli, who died laughing, and this is for Inga, who howled loudest of any of us and swore that she would outlive the moon.”
Mads paused, and he had to swallow twice before he could continue.
“This last, this was for Gyda. She was my youngest sister, the baby of our family. She wasn't yet eight when the angels took her. Do you believe me now?”
Tears clouded Tara's eyes, and she found herself nodding.
“Yes, yes,” she said softly, and because she did not know what else to do, she drew him close, pressing his head against her shoulder.
She thought he would pull away, shocked at the pity and tears of a stranger, but instead he rested against her, pressing against her hard. His shoulders rose and fell twice, and though she could feel no tears, she knew that there was a weight that had been lifted from his shoulders, something that he had carried for so long.
“I understand,” she whispered. “I will help you. I promise, I will help you.”
Her words unleashed something inside him, and suddenly, it was not a grief-stricken man in her arms. Something indefinable changed, and suddenly he was pressing against her. She found herself holding on to him more tightly until it felt like she must crush him, and suddenly Mads lifted his face to meet hers.
His mouth was hot, and when he kissed her, there was something feral about it, something so wild that it took her breath away. Her seeking hand landed at the base of his throat, and she could feel a growl there. She had seen him turn into a wolf before her very eyes, but now she could feel the wolf that was always in him. It lay in the watchful grace of his motions, in the taut muscles of his frame and the heat of his body. It lay in his desire for her, and now she knew that it could be nothing else.
There was a lifetime of doubt holding her back. A litany of “not good enough, not pretty enough, not smart enough” ran through her head like it always had, but in the presence of this man, the one who knelt on the floor in front of her and who was kissing her with such passionate tenderness, those words evaporated from her head as if they had never been.
Tara flung her arms around his shoulders, and she kissed him the way that she had always wanted to kiss someone, with no fear and no hesitancy at all.
Instead, it was Mads who drew back, and the look on his face was torn between desire and shock.
“What?” Tara asked, suddenly fearful. Had she misread him, was she not good enough after all?
“I ask you to risk your life for me, I show you things that you thought less than twenty-four hours ago to be mere stories, and now I decide that I want to do this?”
He shook his head, and pulled away slightly, making Tara whimper in surprise.
“I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I did not mean this. I have asked too much of you, and now... this abuse... Please, you must forgive me.”
“Do you want me?” Tara's voice, strong and clear, cut through his apology.
“I...can't, Tara, I shouldn't...”
Her fingertips fluttered across his mouth, which was still damp with their kisses, and she felt his breath sigh against her skin.
“I'll ask you again,” she said, “do you want me?”
“Yes.” Mads hissed the answer as if it was being drawn out of him with tongs, and his entire body went tense.
“By God and all the saints I want you,” he growled. “From the moment you broke that vase over that bastard's head, I wanted you. I can smell you, and Tara, I know you better now than anyone has in your life, and I can say that I have never wanted someone more.”
“No one?” she asked challengingly, and he snapped his teeth at her.
“No one,” he agreed, something so aggressive in his posture that a part of her shivered.
“But if I told you to stop?”
“I would,” he said immediately. “If you tell me no, if you look at me crossways, I would slink off to lick my wounds in the corner and howl my sadness to the skies. Tara, you must believe that I would never hurt you, not a hair on your precious head.”
“That's all I needed to know,” she said firmly, and she leaned down to kiss him again.
It was as if she had let a demon off the leash. He rose up and dragged her up on the bed, and before she could speak, he pressed his weight down on top of her. He supported himself with his arms so that he would not crush her, but pinned underneath his bulk, she had never felt safer or more aroused.
“You must tell me,” he warned her. “I want you, and then you went and stared me down as if I were a little yearling cub. That's no laughing matter when you are playing with the leader of a pack.”
“Oh, is it?” Tara asked, her voice soft and full of laughter. She never acted like this, and though a part of her was shocked at how she was acting, another, far larger part had been freed by the happenings of the evening. The marks over Mads' chest reminded her that life was short, and if hers was going to be, she wanted this.
“You must be very sure to tell me no when you need to,” he whispered in her ear, “because for me, all I can see now is you, and how much I want you, and how much I want you to want me...”
She would have replied, but suddenly there was his mouth in her ear, and his tongue tracing maddening sensations over the sensitive flesh there. She whimpered, and she would have thrashed if he hadn't been holding her down. His breath was hot in her ear, and she could only sigh and press up against him.
His mouth was on hers again, and this time there was no timidity to it at all. His tongue swept between her lips, claiming her with a brutal rhythm. There was something primal to it, and a part of herself that she had never known existed woke up, wanting more.
“Please,” she whimpered, pushing up against him, and his answering laugh was ragged.
“I would give you everything if I could,” he said softly, and the honesty in his voice made her long for him.
There was a certain restraint in his motions, and she knew that he would never hurt her, but still she needed more. She realized that her nails were pressed hard into his shoulders, and on impulse, she raked her nails down his back. That simple motion made him groan and now she could feel his cock press against the tender skin of her belly, hard and wanting. Some part of her was embarrassed that she was being taken in her flannel pajamas, and another part of was too maddened by desire to care.
“More, I need more of you,” she whispered, and his responding groan made her pull him even closer.
She felt his body rock against hers, and then he pulled away. She made a mewling, wanting sound, but then he fisted his hand in the front of her pajama top, tearing it away as if it were paper and leaving her nude from the waist up.
“Oh...” she said softly, and when she would have gone to cover herself, he took both her hands in one of his and pinned them above her head on the bed.
“Never think that you are less,” he whispered softly. “You're beautiful to me, and by god, I want to see all of you.”
Tara held herself still as he brought his mouth down to the curve of her breasts. She was small on top, but her nipples were deliciously sensitive, and when she felt the dampness of his mouth on her skin, she arched up to meet him.
“I can smell you,” he growled against her soft flesh. “Do you understand me? I can smell you, I know how much your body wants me....”
Another savage pull and her pajama pants were off of her as well. Now she was completely naked underneath his weight, and she couldn't resist lifting her legs and wrapping them around his hips. She relished the rough texture of his jeans against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, and when she used her strong legs to pull him close, he bit down gently on her nipple, making her wail.
Mads' laugh was more a moan of need, and he bit her again, this time on the curve of her breast. They were light and gentle, and she had the idea that he could have broken skin if he wished, but instead, his bites were just hard enough to make her entire body vibrate with pleasure.
No one had ever given her sensation that was this intense, and it was like her entire body was lit up with pleasure.
“Now, now please, I want you,” she whimpered, and she felt a deep shudder wrack his body.
“I can't wait,” he groaned.
With a few deft motions, he opened his jeans and pulled out his cock, and Tara whimpered. It was dark and thick, and she wanted it with an animal longing that shocked her to her core.
He pressed her to the bed again, and this time, she knew that there was nothing in the world that would stop them, nothing that could keep them apart. His weight coming down on her felt like heaven, and when she felt the head of his cock sliding against the damp lips of her sex, her belly twisted with heat.
“Are you ready?” he whispered in her ear, and she could only nod and hope that it was enough. His bites, his smell, his strength and his passion all conspired to prepare her for him, and still he was careful about it.
With aching care, he stroked the length of his cock along the lips of her sex, wetting it, and making her body yearn for him.
Tara's hands trembled as she took his face between her palms, looking him deeply in the eye. She had never felt so close to a lover, so much as if he were a part of her.
“Don't make me wait,” she said softly, and the sweet plea in her voice made him shake.
“At this point, I couldn't if I tried,” Mads admitted.
He pressed the head of his cock into her, but when she whimpered, he hesitated. She shook her head frantically. She was tight, it had been some time, but this was an ache that she craved, one she would bear because she simply could not do without him for another moment.
Bracing her heels on the bed underneath them, she lifted her hips to his, and that was all it took. He sunk into her, closing against her so tightly that for a moment, she couldn't breathe.
“Please, please, please,” she heard herself whispering, and it was like she had broken something inside him. He thrust into her hard, pulled out halfway and then pushed in again, pushing her into the bed.
He was saying something, but she couldn't hear him. All she wanted was more of the sensation that he was giving her. She tightened her legs around his hips to draw him even closer, and then he was moving, each smooth, hard thrust driving her harder and harder.
She knew that he was going to climax before she did, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him close.
“Do it,” she hissed, “I want to feel it...”
With a loud groan, he spilled inside her, marking her in a way that felt entirely new and completely right.
She sighed softly, her body still thrumming with desire, and she loosened her arms, planting a soft kiss on his head. She started to say something, but then she yelped when he pulled out and slid a firm hand down her belly.
“Mads?”
“Oh, I'm sorry, did you think we were done?” he asked with a sly smile. “We're not.”
She meant to protest, to tell him that he didn't need to, that it was fine, but then his fingers slid between her legs, and almost before she knew it, she was spread wide for his touch. He was gentle but there was a demand to his motions that made her own climax something inevitable and perfectly real.
He thumbed her clit harder and harder, and her hips thrashed. She knew that she was going climax, and some part of her fought it. It was too much, it was all too much, and she nearly sobbed with it.
“Let go,” he whispered in her ear. “Let go, and let me take care of you like this.”
That was all it took. His fingers and his words drover her over the edge, and her body lit up with fireworks. She clung to him, knowing that she must have left deep scratches in his arm, and she cried out her release, the aftershocks rocking her body.
When she came back to herself, he was holding her naked body closely, as if afraid that she would disappear.
“Is... do you want me?” she found herself saying, and cringed. It was needy, it was strange, and she had only known him for a few hours, but he nodded.
“More than anything in the world,” he said. “Now it is best if you sleep. We have a long journey in front of us.”
She did as he said, snuggling her head against his chest, but she couldn't help but wonder if there was something else there. Despite everything they had been through together, there was still so much she did not know about this man, and when she slept, her dreams were troubled.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK TWO: Dreams of a Restless Sleep - Volume 2
***
***
Tara awoke from a restless sleep to find Mads dressed and waiting for her. He looked stern, dressed and shod when she was so naked, but at her apprehensive look, his face softened and he leaned down to give her a kiss.
“Come and rise, love,” he said softly. “We have some ground to cover today, and I would like to be off.”
She sat up in the bed, and she didn't miss the way that his eyes landed on her body, something wolfishly hungry about it before duty asserted itself and he tore his gaze away.
“Will you take me back to my home?” Tara asked. “And maybe loan me a sweatshirt and jeans or something? I don't think there's much left of my pajamas.”
Mads' lips quirked at the reminder of their night together, and for a moment, she was sure that he would simply strip his clothes off and climb back into the bed with her. Then he shook his head, took a cautious step back from the bed and grinned.
“I would like to keep you like this all the time, but it would likely be a bad choice on the highway. As to your clothes, it's not safe back at your house, not yet, but there are clothes in the cabinet there. This is a safe house for my people, and we keep supplies here.”
She made a face, but went to the cabinet to inspect her options. There were women's clothes as well as men's, but it seemed that the women of Mads' kind were not as tall as she was. After trying two pairs of jeans that didn't fit, she settled on a soft lilac skirt that looked as if it had wandered in by accident, and a thick black sweater that threatened to engulf her. The black army boots and oatmeal socks were a better fit, and she was once again grateful that she was slight enough that she didn't absolutely need a bra.
She presented herself to Mads nervously in her borrowed clothing, but he only kissed her cheek as if they had been lovers for years.
“Prettiest thing in the world, even if I'd prefer you naked,” he declared, and he led her out.
The world outside the cabin already felt harsh and bright, and when she climbed into Mads' truck she felt like she wanted to curl up and sleep again. As they pulled onto the highway, however, she found that she couldn't drift off. The events of the past twenty-four hours played through her mind, and she shivered again, thinking of the winged monster that had broken down her door.
“Are they really angels?” she asked softly. “I mean, are they really the angels from the Bible?'
Mads glanced at her, a hint of sorrow on his face, and she couldn't help but think of the tattoos on his chest, one for each pack mate he couldn't save.
“If they're truly angels, then God has a great deal to answer for, as far as I am concerned. We call them angels, and that that is what they call themselves as well. Some of the elders of my pack think that they are fallen angels, and that Fenrisulfir refused to hunt for them when he realized this. They are no messengers for anything good, I know that much, and I know that they will kill my kind where they find them.”
The thing she had seen in her home was monstrous. There was a flurry of powerful black wings, but the form that they bore up was scarred and monstrous, as if from a fire... or from a fall.
“I didn't expect my summer break to be like this,” she said, half-smiling. “At least I got all of my grading done before.”
“I'm sorry I can't offer a more restful vacation,” Mads said with a grin. “At least I can offer you an interesting one?”
She laughed, because she couldn't think of a vacation that was more interesting than finding herself embroiled in a war between werewolves and possibly fallen angels, and then she found that she could sleep after all.
***
She woke briefly when Mads stopped for gas and, disoriented, she looked around.
“Where are we?” she asked, hopping down from the truck, and he glanced at her, amused.
“We're in Illinois,” he said. “You've been asleep for some time.”
“Illinois? What are we doing in Illinois?”
“There's a woman here, one who can help us. She can put us on the road to find Fenrisulfir.”
There was a strangeness to his tone, and Tara took a closer look at him.
“You're hiding something from me again,” she decided, and Mads had the grace to look abashed.
“It's only that she is the only person who can send us on our way. If she refuses us, she does, and there is nothing that we can do about it.”
Tara wondered at the power of a woman who could make a powerful werewolf like Mads take a refusal, and she pushed the thought away.
“You need to stop that,” she said softly. “You need to stop hiding things from me. You are not going to get anywhere by hiding things from me, not even a little, and... and, Mads, I hate it.”
Mads hesitated, and then he nodded. “Forgive me,” he said. “I... well, truth telling isn't always what is required from me, and it is a poor thing to lie to someone who wants to help me. I'll be better.”
She nodded, but while she realized she did trust this man, another part of her wondered how successful he could be. She went into the rest stop to use the bathroom, and when she came out, she found Mads buying them food and drinks.
Sliding back into the truck, she took his water bottle and a wrapped sandwich that was frankly a little disgusting, but she was so hungry that she hardly cared.
“You can sleep more if you want,” he said. “We won't get to where we're going until dark anyway, and then we'll likely be up until dawn.”
Tara shook her head. She wondered about the being up until dawn part, but now she knew she was too restless to sleep.
“I want to look at the book again,” she decided. “If I'm going to help you, I should know more about it.”
Mads nodded, and when he handed her the small leather bound volume, everything else faded as she started to read.
The cipher used by the Sybelline Brotherhood was one that she had studied for years, but even for her, it took some struggling. The book itself was a series of incantations on the opening of doors and the freeing of bound things, but alongside the insectile text, there were also pictures, tiny beautiful illustrations in brilliant reds, greens and golds. It reminded Tara of the illuminations of medieval books, and she looked closer at them.
There were men with horns, and women with hair long enough to trail down the edge of one page and across the bottom of the page opposite. There were eerie plants that sprouted eyes and a toad with a scroll issuing from its mouth. On the scroll was written a brief prayer for mercy and for strong alcohol, which made Tara smile. She wondered at the bored artist who had placed the frog in the book, but then she turned the page and gasped.
On one margin, there was an angel, but even in the tiny picture, she could see that it was hideously scarred. Two blue eyes peered from its ruined head, and in its hands, it held a sword. It looked enough like the thing that had attacked her that she felt a surge of fear.
On the other side of a page was a wolf, large and with a snarl on its face. It was drawn more realistically than the rest of the pictures in the book, and she absently noticed that the markings of dark gray on its back and light gray on its belly were more than a little similar to what she had seen of Mads' markings in his own wolf form.
There was a line of scrolling script along the wolf's back, and it was even smaller than the text of the rest of the book. In the dying light of the day, Tara squinted to read the text.
“Etto, maal.... sinistrum...”
“What?” Mads glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and she smiled hastily at him. She didn't like liars, but she couldn't imagine the benefit or the harm of keeping the words from him.
And the wolves of the earth came, and their evil polluted the land as their lying tongues rolled.
She tried to put her unease behind her, skimming through the rest of the book. The fact that all of the spells of the books were true, that the Sybelline Brotherhood had stumbled upon some kind of sacred knowledge frightened her. If it was true, all true, then the power held between the leather covers of the book in her hands was immense. It could make her terrifying to governments, to law enforcement. She could walk out of prisons, open doors that had never been opened.
Tara clapped the book closed, breathing hard, and Mads reached over to clasp her hand gently.
“It's a great deal to take in, isn't it?” he asked sympathetically. “This was a world that you never asked for. I'm sorry you have to think of it now.”
“I'm not,” she said, surprising herself. “This is... this is incredible. This is knowledge that was once collected by people who knew how the world works. If their work is true, if they truly knew how to change the world, they were amazingly restrained.”
Mads raised an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
“With the power here, they could have ruled the world. Mads, they could have been gods on earth, and yet... yet no one knows about them. They're forgotten, except by me and a handful of other academics scattered across the planet. They chose to keep the knowledge to themselves.”
“Power and they didn't use it? They sound like fools to me,” Mads snorted.
“I don't think so,” Tara said quietly. “I think they were wise. Wise enough to be content with what they had, to survive, to archive and to protect.”
They drove in silence as the long spring evening waned and the sky darkened. When there was just a sliver of light left on the wide horizon of the plowed cornfields, Mads pulled off the main highway, following the country roads until the area went dark.
“Spooky,” Tara noted, and he nodded. There was a tension in his frame that hadn't been there before, and he felt her inquisitive eyes on him.
“I'd rather fight a dozen angels than do what I am about do now,” he muttered, and now it was Tara's turn to squeeze his hand.
“What are you about to do now?” she asked.
“Stake everything that I have fought for on a single meeting.”
In the middle of a stand of scrubby trees, far away from the main road, they finally pulled up to a small ramshackle trailer. There was a light in the window, and when Tara and Mads came down from the truck, there was a woman standing on the porch to greet them.
Tara had been expecting a wizened crone, an old woman in a dark robe and warts who spoke in cryptic prophecy. Instead, this woman was nearly as tall as Mads, and almost as broad as well. Her hair was cut short, and she wore jeans tucked into practical boots. As Tara and Mads approached, her face widened into a friendly smile.
“Been expecting you,” she said. “Come on in, food’s waiting.”
Tara felt comfortable with this woman at once, but when she glanced back at Mads, there was still that tension in his eyes. He walked into her trailer as if he was walking into the very jaws of hell, and when the door shut behind him, she saw him flinch ever so slightly.
“Lady, we've come to seek a favor...” he started, but she cut him off with an easy wave.
“It can wait until after you eat,” the woman said firmly. “Come on.”
“You're not what I was expecting,” Tara said nervously as the woman directed them to sit down, and she got a mischievous smile in response.
“Well, you shouldn't believe everything you hear, honey. You can call me Millie.”
“Not... Three in One?” she asked, and the woman's smile turned a little darker.
“Eat up, plenty of time to talk about it later,” she said, and that was that.
The food was simple but delicious. There was a roast chicken on the table with a potato soup and for dessert there was a homemade apple pie fresh out of the oven. Tara, who had been eating nothing but gas station donuts for the past twenty-four hours, wolfed down her first plate and started on the second. Despite Mads' glower, he consumed a massive amount of food himself, only growling a little when Millie called him a hungry pup.
Millie herself ate with a single-minded determination that was impressive, and when the food was done and cleared away, she lit a cheroot, filling the air with the sharp and pleasant smell of tobacco.
“Bad news is better taken on a full stomach,” she said finally. “I'm not going to help you.”
Mads shoved himself to his feet, and Tara could see the rage vibrating through his body. “You've not heard us out, you've not even heard who we are.”
Millie seemed singularly unimpressed by his temper, and as Tara watched, she seemed to change. Suddenly, the affable woman who had greeted them was gone, and it seemed like something much older, and much crueler was living behind those pale eyes.
“I know everything that I need to, pup,” she said, and now her voice was a nearly serpentine hiss with just the hint of a foreign accent to it.
“I know you,” she continued. “You're Mads Magnussen, leader of the Cairns Rock pack, oldest living son of Magnus and Barda. You've lost people, nearly as many as you will lose in time to come, you are mourning, and you are desperate.”
She turned her gaze, cold and more than a little reptilian, to Tara, who shrank back in her chair.
“You, you're Tara Roth. You are unlucky in your family, unlucky in love, convinced that your cleverness will save you, uncertain of your heart, uncertain of your courage, and oh so afraid.”
The table creaked when Mads slammed his fist down on it and it was a miracle that it did not break.
“You will not speak to her like this,” he roared. “Call me what you like, but this woman has done nothing to you!”
“Do you think you impress me with your growls, little pup?” the suddenly strange woman laughed. “I am older than all of your kind, and I do not fear you.”
“Stop!” Tara cried, standing up herself.
Her outburst made both Mads and their host draw up short. They stared at her, and she felt her own anger and her own fear hot in her heart.
“You're right,” she said, more quiet now. “I'm afraid. I've been afraid my whole life, and I've been unlucky in my family and my love. But now? Now I don't care.”
She glanced at Mads, who looked both furious and concerned at once.
“I'm fighting for something now, and it does not matter that I am frightened or that I am unlucky. There is something that needs to happen, and I cannot stop, do you understand? It does not matter who you are, or what you think of us.”
Tara watched nervously as the woman rose and stalked toward her.
“Do you know who I am, Tara?” she said almost gently.
“No, I don't,” Tara said softly. “I don't care.”
There was a long moment where Tara refused to drop her eyes. She could sense Mads' temper fray, but before he could do something they would all regret, the woman stepped back.
“A test,” she said, her voice still hoarse and strange. “Yes? To prove that you are worthy. To show me that you are both strong.”
“Yes,” Tara said, agreeing before Mads could refuse them. “Test us however you like as long as you help us.”
There was a sly and malicious smile on her face, and she nodded.
“Test me instead,” Mads said insistently. “I asked her to do this.”
“Are you going to be alone as you move forward, Magnussen? No matter how much you want to, can you carry all of the risk for her?”
“He can't,” Tara said. “Test us both.”
The words were barely out of her mouth before her eyes started to droop. She felt her body droop heavily toward the ground, and she was aware that Mads had rushed to her side. She felt his strong arms wrap around her and she tried to reach for him, but her arms were so heavy.
“Witch, what have you done to her?” she heard Mads shout, and she heard the other woman's laugh.
“What she asked me to do,” the woman responded, and there was a real bitterness there. “She has asked to be tested, for you both to be tested. When this is finished, she will be wiser, no matter what happens.”
“What am I to do, then?” Mads demanded.
“Decide if you would follow her,” was the response, and then Tara heard no more.
***
Tara stretched, blinking as she woke up to bright sunlight.
She sat up, and to her shock, she was in her bedroom. Tara could see the bright blue sky out the window, and she could distantly hear birdsong. It was a beautiful late spring day, and a playful breeze coming through the window.
“Mads?” she called hesitantly, and the name of the man she had fallen in with spoken in the innocent sunlight of her own bedroom felt strange and wrong. She remembered so clearly what they had done with one another, and what they had begun together, but there was something strange and false about it.
She looked around her room, where there was not a single thing out of place, and she got carefully to her feet. She noted that she was wearing her pajamas, and something about the red flannel grounded her further. Stories about werewolves and magic books didn't happen to people who wore flannel after all, and she shook her head slowly.
When she wandered out to the front of the house, the door was whole, as was the window that she remembered being shattered the night before.
“Mads?” she called uncertainly, and now she knew that there were pieces of her memory that were missing. It seemed like just a few moments she could have recognized his face among a thousand, she could feel his arms around her, and now there was nothing. There was a fading sensation, as if from a dream, and she shook her head.
She was ready to rush out, to find Mads no matter where he was, but then her phone rang. She nearly laughed at how familiar, homey and real it sounded, and automatically, she picked it up.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Tara-dara, how are you?”
Tara made a face. “Hey, Rose, just fine.”
On the other end of the line, she could almost imagine her older sister pursing her lips and frowning, the way she had always looked when worried about her younger sibling.
“Come on, hon, tell me the truth.”
“I am,” Tara retorted, already feeling defensive. “I'm fine, I'm totally fine, Rose.”
“Look, sweetie, I'm worried, okay? Everyone's worried.”
“Who's everyone?” Tara asked sharply. “Mom, who hasn't talked to me in five years, or Grandma, who still thinks we're both terrible, terrible daughters?”
That was usually enough to start a fight with her sister, who was the last member of the family she still spoke to, but instead of getting Rose into a shouting match, her sister was quiet.
“Rose...?”
“Tara, honey, don't push me away. It's okay to talk to me, okay?”
“What am I supposed to be talking about?” Tara snapped, her nerves already a little frayed. She knew that this wasn't right, wasn't sure why it wasn't right, but it was hard to argue with the solid phone in her hands, her sister's soft voice, and the utterly real way her home looked, the way she had made it look herself.
“Well, when my baby sister disappears for two months and gets sucked into some kind of cult with a guy who ended up on an FBI most-wanted list, I get worried, okay?” Rose's voice was frayed now, and Tara could tell that her sister was on the verge of shouting herself. “Jesus, Tara, you just got out of the hospital last night! I wanted you to come stay with me, but you're always so goddamn stubborn...”
Tara started to retort that of course that wasn't what happened, but then she looked down at her wrist.
There was a white medical bracelet on it, and she could see her name on it, typed in a brutally simple font, along with a doctor's name and the name of the local hospital. She felt herself get dizzy, and with a thump, she sat on the ground.
“Rose?”
“Honey, I was worried sick,” Rose said, her voice breaking. “You run away, you ditch your career, the police have to pull you out of a goddamn compound in Illinois, and you're still saying you love this guy?”
“No, I, listen, Rose...”
“No, you listen,” her sister spat. “You ran away, didn't you? Things got tough, things got difficult at work or something, and then some asshole with a wild story comes along and you just ran, didn't you?”
“Rose!”
“Tell me it was any different!” Rose cried. “Tell me that you weren't feeling overwhelmed and that some guy didn't come to you with a cock and bull story about—”
“It wasn't like that all!” Tara shouted. “An angel burst down my door! Mads saved me, we ran from the angel, and he told me... he told me...”
“Told you what, Tara?” Rose's voice was cutting and desperate, and she could imagine her sister curled up on the ground just like she was. They were both survivors of a childhood that had more dark points than it did bright ones, and Rose's devotion had kept her going on her darkest days.
“Did he tell you that you were the only one who could save you? Did he tell you some fairytale about family and the end of the world?”
“Yes,” Tara whispered, and even as she admitted it, a deep yawning pit opened up inside her.
She thought of what she had known what felt like just a few short minutes ago, of what she had seen and Mads had told her, and it sounded insane. It sounded like the delusion of a woman who always ran away, who was always looking for a way to feel wanted.
“Oh god,” Tara whimpered, hugging herself. Now that she looked more carefully, she could see that she wasn't in her own home at all, and that she wasn't wearing pajamas. She was in a cold white room with padded walls, and she was dressed in white scrubs that didn't keep out the chill. There was no phone in her hand, and through the glass window, she could see shadowy figures wandering back and forth. She could faintly hear the sounds of a busy hospital and voices calling to one another in a world that she had finally proven herself too weak and too flighty to deal with.
“Please, please, Mads,” she found herself whispering, and she could picture him so clearly. She could see his face, feel his arms around her, smell his scent, but he wasn't real. There were no werewolves, no angels, nothing except her own mind and these four white walls, and she felt hot tears trickle down her face.
This was where she belonged. She wasn't clever or strong; she was frail and fragile, too slow and too weak to do anything for anyone. She had spent her whole life trying to prove that she was smart enough, and strong enough, and now, finally, once and for all, she was forced to realize what kind of lie that was.
The black tide of despair was about to close over her head, and then her ears caught the sound of a struggle far away. At first she was inclined to ignore it, but then it became louder. Now she could hear shouts, and though her first instincts were to turn away, she ventured closer to the door instead.
There were the sounds of a struggle, of bodies hitting the ground and of glass shattering, and now that she was listening for it, she could hear words as well.
“Tara! Tara, where are you? Tara!”
It was her name, and it was being shouted with so much panic and fear that she felt herself wake up.
She looked around at the white room, bewildered, because that wasn't right either, was it? She had had dark days, and she had fallen and picked herself up more times than she could remember, but she wasn't someone who needed to be thrown aside and forgotten.
In that single moment, she remembered what had happened, how she had fallen asleep in the home of the woman known as Three in One, and her memories came back to her with a rush of almost painful clarity.
“Mads!” she screamed. “I'm in here, Mads!”
Tara pounded on the door that refused to budge an inch, and she stood on tiptoe to press her face against the glass. She could just barely see furniture being thrown and people that she could now see were faceless and gray attacking someone who was throwing them aside as easily as the chairs.
“Mads! I'm here, I'm here!”
The words were choked out of her when she was pulled back violently, and when she spun around, she saw something so dark it seemed made out of her very nightmares. It had no form, but it spun out a dozen tentacles to wrap around her, sliding intimately against her body even as it spoke to her in the voice of her mother, the voice that rang through her head when she knew she would fail, and when she was at her weakest.
“Foolish little girl,” the voice hissed. “Don't you understand, no one is coming to save you. No one cares, and there will never be any safety for you, just this, just the locked room and the darkness.”
For a moment, Tara froze in fear, but then a healing wash of anger broke over her. “No,” she whispered, and then she shouted it. She struggled with all of her might, and when she felt the thing draw back, as if it was hesitating, she struggled all the harder.
“You are not going to tell me that,” she snarled, straining against it. “You will not tell me that I am lesser, or that I am crazy or that I don't understand. I left behind everyone who hurt me, and I helped everyone I could. I am smart, and I know that I'm loved, and I am strong, and you will not take that away from me...”
Despite her resolve, the thing was powerful, and though she had diminished it, made it weaker, it was still stronger than she had thought. It threatened to wash over her, and then an iron-hard grip clamped around her wrist.
“Tara, Tara, hold on!”
With nothing more than that, the darkness was ripped away, and she stood in a dim grayish light with Mads next to her.
For a long moment, she could do nothing but shiver and shake, and Mads held her tightly, crooning soft, soothing words into her ear.
“Tara, Tara, beautiful Tara, it's okay. I'm here. It's okay.”
“I'm strong,” she whispered, tears rolling down her face. “I'm strong, and I won't let anyone hurt me.”
“I won't let anyone hurt you,” Mads promised. “Tara, sweetheart, please look at me...”
She forced herself to meet his gaze, and instead of seeing disgust or pity there, she saw only love.
“Mads?”
“Never, ever think that you are alone,” he said firmly. “Never think that you are lost. If you're lost, I'll be lost with you, do you understand?”
She nodded hesitantly, but apparently, he did not trust the answer. Instead, Mads lowered his face to hers, and if his kisses the night before had been passionate, now they were tender. He brushed his mouth over hers again and again, reassuring her that he was there, soothing nerves that had been held taut with fear and sorrow, and making her heart swell with love for him.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself to him. She realized that she had never felt safer than when she was in his arms, and more than feeling safe, she felt loved. She felt perfect. Tara could have kissed him forever, but then she felt his body flinch. She looked up just as Mads laughed in amazement, and she realized they were no longer in the formless void.
Instead, they were in a room roofed with bare timbers and made of stone, and though it had a few things in common with the cabin where they had spent the night, it was far grander. There was a huge fireplace that stretched across one wall, and there was a bed that seemed miles wide that was draped with furs.
“Where are we?” asked Tara in wonder.
Mads tipped a rueful grin at her. “I know I'm meant to be telling the truth and nothing but these days, but what happens if the truth is a little embarrassing?”
Tara quirked an eyebrow at him. “Then you tell it to me anyway, and let me have a good laugh after the terrible day that I have been having.”
“It's home,” Mads admitted. “It's my home, and more importantly, it's my bed.”
Her eyes stole to the enormous bed, thinking about everything that she could do in it with him, and then she made another important revelation. “Mads, does your room at home have a door?”
“It does. This one... lacks one.”
They looked around for a few moments, and while Tara was wondering what they were going to do, Mads scooped her up in his arms.
“Mads!”
“We're here, and though nothing is getting out, nothing is getting in, either. Love, we're safe for a little while.”
She started to argue, but then she saw the smile on his face, light and more boyish than she had ever seen him. Tara suddenly realized how little real safety he had ever had, how little time there had been when he wasn’t battling for his life and defending those he loved. She realized that she couldn't deny him this safety, not even a little, and with a small sigh, she melted in his arms.
“My strong, clever girl,” he muttered, nuzzling her ear. “Do you know that I've thought about taking you home with me? Of bringing you to this very bed?”
She nodded hesitantly, and he lay her down on the feather mattress. She sunk in the softness, of it, and he loomed over her, bending down so that their faces almost touched. She expected a passionate kiss like the ones they had shared the night before, but instead he only kissed her gently. He took his time, drawing soft shivers of pleasure from her body.
The kiss was almost chaste, but the sensations trickled through her body, arousing her slowly but surely. Gently, she reached up to run her fingers through his dark hair, and when he made a soft sound of approval, she closed her hand and pulled a little, making him groan.
“Careful,” he said, drawing back for a moment. “I might mistake you for one of my packmates and treat you like one.”
“Oh?” Tara smiled daringly. “And how would you treat a werewolf girl who pulled your hair, hmm?”
Her answer was a sharp, toothy smile before she found her hands pinned to the bed, and those same sharp teeth nipping gently at her shoulder. She wasn't wearing the flannel pajamas anymore or the white scrubs; instead she was in the clothes that she had put on at the cabin. Mads nuzzled aside the too-big collar of the sweater and his teeth found warm skin.
“You pull my hair, and I'll bite you,” he said softly, but when he latched his teeth gently in her flesh, she only wanted him to do more. She tried to reach him, but his hands on her wrists were like stone. She struggled a little just to test him, and when he did not move at all, she whimpered with delight and heat.
“You like that?” he whispered. “You like being pinned down?”
“Sometimes,” she admitted, and then she gasped when he pulled her up.
“You tell me to stop, and I will,” he said, “but somehow, I do not think you are going to tell me to stop.”
In a few efficient motions, he stripped her bare, throwing her clothes over the side of her bed, and then he pressed her to the head of the bed. There was a barred wooden headboard there, and he wrapped her fingers around the bars.
“There,” he said. “Don't make me tie you.”
She shivered at the idea of being lashed to the headboard, of having her naked body even more vulnerable to this man. There were no doubts in her mind, just a feeling of tight longing throughout her body. She was flat on her belly, with her arms stretched toward the head of the bed, and when she turned her face, she could see Mads stripping down as well.
Tara's eyes widened at how hard he was already, and he grinned slightly at her.
“Did you think that I was indifferent to you?” he asked. “You must never have seen yourself so naked and bared.”
He climbed back on the bed, and she felt him crawl over her. He pressed his knees between hers, causing her to spread her legs, and she bucked her hips against the mattress. She knew that she was already damp, and that now, with her spread so flat, he could see every part of her. Her face burned, but she knew that it wasn't embarrassment, or at least, it wasn't embarrassment alone.
“You're beautiful here,” he said, tracing a finger along the curve of her buttocks before pressing them to the dark slit between her legs. “So very, very beautiful, and already you’re so wet, hmm?”
He lay himself down over her, catching his weight on his forearms. She shivered when he nuzzled the back of her neck, and then traced kisses down her bare spine. His wet mouth raised goose bumps on her back, and his cock was a hard, hot column against the tender flesh of her buttocks. She shifted as much as she could, trying to tell him that she wanted him, that she was ready, but he only kept playing with her, tracing kisses up her back, and tickling her nape with his lips.
“Please, please, I need more,” she finally said, and his laugh was soft and just a little mocking.
“Soon,” he said, and she could hear the tease in his voice. “I'm just not done yet...”
He pressed his finger between her lips, and when she lapped hesitantly, he laughed in her ear.
“Lick it,” he said softly. “Show me what you would do with my cock if I let you suck it...”
The thought of putting her mouth on him so intimately made her hips twitch again, and she pulled his finger into her mouth, lapping and rolling her tongue over it. She imagined being on her knees, looking up at him, wanting him so badly...
Before she was done, he pulled his finger away, and as she made a questioning noise, he brought it down between her legs. She was already wet, and his damp finger slid easily between her folds. This was no simply check to ensure that she was ready for more, this was a slow languorous torture.
He slid a single finger in and out of her, pulling back from time to time to circle her clit gently. It was never as firm as she needed, or with the strength that she craved, and though she hung on to the headboard obediently, she buried her face in the mattress, whimpering for more. She knew she was saying please, she knew she was desperate, and she had no idea how to ask him for more.
“You asked me what I would do if you were a werewolf woman,” he said softly. “Well, if you were, I would know you were ready now.”
At first Tara didn't know what he meant, but then she realized that her arousal and the way she had been moving meant that her rear was raised up in the air; she was practically on her knees, and with her head and chest still on the mattress, she realized how explicitly she was displaying herself.
“Oh god,” she wailed, and she would have curled up to hide herself, but Mads' hands wrapped around her hips, keeping her in place.
“You're showing me how much you want me,” he said, and his voice dropped down to a sensual growl. “You're showing me how much you need me, you're giving yourself to me...”
With nothing more than that, his fingers tightened on her hips, and he pressed his cock inside her with a single stroke. The fullness that she had been craving, given all at once, created a rush of sensation that made her wail.
She was tight and sleek, and she felt how easily he moved inside her. After his first savage entrance, he settled to an almost lazy rhythm, pumping his hips against her.
Tara gave herself up to the rhythm he set, letting her mind go blank with pleasure. She rolled her hips toward him, tightening around him when he thrust, and she knew that she would always belong to this man. Some part of her would always remember the feel of him inside her, and the feeling of fullness and completion that he brought to her.
“Mads, oh, Mads, please,” she said, half-muffled by the sheets, but he seemed to understand.
He reached one hand down underneath her belly, and he found her clit again. With every thrust, he circled the sensitive nub with a calloused finger, and before she thought possible, her body was tightening again. He drew the pleasure out, playing her like a perfect instrument of sensation, and she knew that she couldn't last long.
“Mads, please, I can't much longer,” she said, half-incoherent with the things that he was making her feel. Her legs were already starting to shake as his hand grew more insistent, and she buried her face in the sheets.
“You first,” he said through gritted teeth. “You first, love, because I need to know you enjoy this, that you want me as much as I want you.”
His words were barely out when deep tremors shook her body. They started low and deep, but they were so powerful that she cried out, her voice echoing in the door-less room. Her climax consumed her body, but when it peaked, she realized that Mads was still touching her, lighter now, and he was still inside her as he stroked her clit again.
To her shock, he brought her to a second climax right on the heels of the first, and as the lights of her pleasure exploded behind her eyes, she knew that she was limp on the bed, held up only because Mads was supporting her.
The last shudders of her climax were passing through her body when she felt Mads' control break. Suddenly, his hands were on her hips, and he was thrusting into her with almost painful intensity.
She was shaken by his passion, how easily he claimed her, and when he spilled inside her, she reached back blindly with one hand. He took her hand in his, clutching it tight while he poured himself into her, and in that moment, she knew that there was nothing in the world she wanted more than him.
After a long moment, he pulled away, and came to lie down next to her, pulling her into his arms.
She nuzzled against him, and she started to speak when she felt herself fading away again. There was a single moment when she heard his anguished cry, and then the world was melting away.
Tara sat up abruptly, aware that she was on a hard floor, and that she was back in the trailer of the woman known as Three in One. She had met two, and she staggered up to her feet, looking around wildly. The dishes that they had eaten off of were scattered and broken on the ground, half of the pictures on the wall were pulled down, and one of the chairs lay on its back as if someone had shoved themselves up. There was no sign of the woman, and there was a strange stillness to the air, like the world after a gunshot.
There was Mads, stretched across the floor nearby, but when she started to go to him, a flicker of movement caught her eye. She turned around, and then she gasped with fear and awe.
Standing in the open door of the trailer behind her was an angel, but he was a thousand years removed from the thing that Mads had fought. He was perfectly naked except for a white cloth kilt around his hips, and his body would have inspired a thousand marble statues. He was lithe and inhumanly perfect, and when she met his deep gray eyes, she could feel a millennium behind them.
“Be careful,” he said, and his voice rang like a bell. “He is not what he seems, and you are open and vulnerable. Please, you must take care...”
It looked like he would have said more, but then there was a deep, demonic snarl from behind Tara.
In a rush of gray fur and flashing teeth, Mads pushed her aside, and as the enormous gray wolf, he launched himself at the angel. The angel shrank back until he was on the porch, and then with one powerful sweep of his wings, he was airborne and gone.
Mads' last final leap almost caught his heel, but he snapped finally on thin air. The wolf howled with fury and rage, and for the first time, Tara realized that she was afraid.
They scanned the skies for the angel, but he was gone, and finally, Mads returned to his human form and came back inside.
“She's gone,” he said, exhausted and still vibrating with fury. “The bastard whoreson drove her off. We've lost.”
“No,” said Tara, touching the pocket where she kept the book. There was a slip of paper next to the book, and written on the page were directions.
“No, we haven’t,” she said.
Mads swept her up in his arms, kissing her soundly, calling her beautiful and clever and perfect, but the angel's words remained with her, and she found in her heart a seed of doubt.
TO BE CONTINUED IN BOOK THREE: The Wolf Released - Volume 3
***
***
There was something predatory about the way that Mads watched her, and Tara kept a wary eye on him as she brushed out her hair.
“Do I have something on my face or something?” she asked.
He spread his hands out innocently. “Do I have to have a reason to watch someone so lovely?” Mads was innocence personified, but she couldn't miss the glint of hunger in his smile.
She shook her head and concentrated on brushing out her hair. Two weeks after leaving the home of the woman known as Three in One, they had driven, flown, and sailed their way to the desolate Scottish countryside. The woman's note, the sole reminder of a nightmarish night spent in an Illinois trailer, had brought them to the ancestral home of Mads' pack, and they had found one of the older safe houses to be a snug nest.
It was a stone cottage more than four hundred years old, and it stood alone in the middle of the countryside. There was a shambles of a castle nearby, something medieval and ancient, but that was where the note had said that they would find what they sought. Mads was eager to take her to the castle and to awaken the spirit of Fenrisulfir, but they had both agreed that a night at the safe house would do them both more good than stumbling into a medieval fortification while exhausted from travel.
“You look like you want to eat me,” Tara continued, and Mads' grin got a lot sharper.
As she watched, he climbed gracefully to his feet and approached the stool where she sat by the fire. Even as she thrilled to his casual power and his easy movements, a part of her held herself back, waiting and watching. The angel, the beautifully winged young man who had spoken to her in Illinois, had told her that Mads was hiding something from her. He had lied before, he had sworn that he would not, and now she no longer knew what to think. All she knew was that her heart cried for him even as her body did, and when he came close, she did not know how to control any part of herself.
“You've been silent these last few days,” he murmured, kneeling down so they could see eye to eye. His hands, large, calloused and scarred, lit gently on her shoulders, brushing her hair back and away so that he could touch the bare flesh of her neck and her shoulders.
Her eyes drifted closed as his hands rubbed gentle circles into her flesh, and she shook her head.
“There's nothing,” she said. “I know that I can read the incantation from the book, I know that I can free the Fenrisulfir...”
Mads shook his head sharply, almost angrily. “I don't care about the book,” he said, “not right now. That's tomorrow. Tomorrow can go hang itself. What I care about, the only thing that I care about right now, is in this room, and she has been keeping silent.”
His words caught at her heart, tugging fiercely at her. It was so close to what she needed to hear, and what she wanted from him so badly that she nearly threw herself into his arms. Instead, she shook her head, biting her lip, and he frowned.
“You don't want to talk?” he asked, and she shook her head.
It was easier, after all, to remain silent when she was afraid of the accusations and fears that would spill out of her mouth. There was something almost funny about their situation, and she leaned into his touch, brushing her face against the caress of his palm.
“Beautiful, beautiful Tara,” Mads murmured. “I love hearing you. I love hearing you talk, I love hearing you laugh, and I love hearing you cry out when I've brought you to your peak again and again.”
Tara could feel her face turn red when he mentioned their passionate lovemaking, and she shifted on the hard stool. She could still feel his mouth on her body from less than a day ago, and from the way his eyes lit up, she could see he remembered as well.
“Should I try to make you speak?” he asked, his voice taking a dangerous note. “Are you challenging me to make you cry out?”
The idea of him forcing words, sounds, and moans from her body made her rock slightly on the stool, and without thinking about it, she found herself nodding. She wanted to tell him the truth, to confide all of her fears to him and to have him soothe her, but she couldn't bring the words up to her throat. Instead, Tara could only gaze up at him, her eyes wide and pleading, and nod hard.
Yes. Please. Make me.
Mads' blue eyes darkened, and he nodded slowly. There was something deeply wild in him tonight, and she had just presented him with a challenge. Without saying a word, he stood up, standing in front of her in a pair of well-worn jeans and nothing else. She longed to reach for him and to trace the muscular lines of his body, caress him and to bring him closer, but she sat stilt.
She looked up at him with something like defiance, which made him smile, and he circled her completely, like she was a prey animal he wanted to bring down.
“I could pull your hair hard enough to make you purr,” he said speculatively. “I've certainly done so enough times before...”
Mads combed his fingers through her smooth hair, tugging just a little to make her sigh. She was almost disappointed when he stopped, but then she just barely managed to stop a yelp when he lifted her up in his arms.
“I could bite you,” he growled softly in her ear. “I could leave marks all over that beautiful skin of yours. I know how much you like that.”
She buried her face in his neck, nodding hard. She loved it when he marked her as his, and some part of her hated ever covering those marks up with her clothing.
He brought her over to the bed, and he lay her down on it gently. As he set her down, he squeezed the round curve of her rear firmly, making her squirm.
“I could spank you,” he said, his voice throbbing with desire. “You like that well enough when I did it a few times while we were making love. What would you think if I did it now, if I turned that beautiful ass of yours red and glowing?”
She gasped with both shock at the idea and at how appealing it sounded, being bent over his hard leg and spanked until she was sore, and he grinned.
“There are many ways for me to make you give up,” he told her. “But I know something that I think will loosen that clever tongue of yours sooner rather than later.”
With no more warning than that, he climbed on the bed with her, spreading her legs and settling between them. Instead of resting his weight on top of her like she had thought he would, he sat back on his heels and ran his hands underneath her sweater, finding the sweet curve of her breasts with his hands.
Tara whimpered as he ran gentle thumbs over her nipples, repeating the sweet motion over and over again until they were erect and aching for him. She wished she could tell him to put his mouth on them, to lick them and be at least a little rougher, but she bit her lower lip and raised her eyes to him again. There was something that she needed, and it would take more than that.
He laughed when he saw her stubbornness, and he dragged his hands down her flat belly to the elegant curve of her hips. He pulled the waistband of her skirt down so that he could lap at the sensitive skin directly under the waistband, and when she shifted against him, he held her still with a casual strength that still had the ability to astonish her.
There was nothing that she could do while he kissed her hips and her belly, and every time he seemed like he would venture lower, he pulled back to another spot. Before she knew it, she was thrashing against his hands, almost desperate to get his mouth where she needed it, but he only laughed raggedly.
Finally, she reached down to take a fistful of his hair, giving it a hard yank, and his laugh turned into a yelp. He pulled back, and for one single, dreadful moment, she thought that she had actually angered him.
Instead the sharpness in his gaze was something else entirely, and he reached for the hem of her skirt, flipping it up so that she was bare to his eyes. He took the hem of her cheap cotton panties in both hands, and the rough purring sound of the flimsy fabric shredding under his grasp made her thrust her hips toward him, needing him so much she could barely breathe.
While the game might have been for him to make her make a sound, it was forgotten now when he pressed his face between her legs, nuzzling the soft flesh there and the curling hair. With a deep sigh, she spread her legs for him, and she felt his clever fingers part her further, opening her slick and sensitive flesh to him.
Tara received no warning when he pressed his tongue between her folds, lapping at her hard from bottom to top. She could feel his tongue cover her over and over again, and she pressed against him, not caring about anything beyond how very good he felt and how very much she needed him and everything he made her feel.
Her breath caught in her throat when he pulled back a little to circle her clit with the tip of his tongue. The sensation was almost too intense, but she needed it with every fiber of her being. She wanted him to overwhelm her, and even when she thought that she wanted to shy away from the things that he was making her feel.
He pressed first one finger, and then another into her soaking entrance, and when he started to thrust with them while lapping at her clit, she knew that she would never be able to be silent. She gripped his hair with both hands, tugging hard and thrashing against him.
She realized that her lips were shaping a plea, for more, for him, but every time it felt like she was going to spill over, every time that she thought that her body would erupt from the pleasure, he pulled back just enough that she was left gasping.
“Whenever you want to climax, love, you tell me,” he said, and there was an edge of victory to his voice. He knew he would win, and she realized with a flash of honesty that she wanted him to win as well.
He brought her to the edge over and over again, letting her teeter on the edge of her climax and drawing back. Finally, when she was so close that she could have cried, the last bit of her control broke, and a ragged cry was torn from her lips.
“Please!” she cried, nearly sobbing with desperation. “Please, let me, Mads, please!”
With a savage growl of victory, he lapped at her clit with a strong and true rhythm that never stopped, that she knew she could depend on, and within seconds, she could feel her orgasm overtaking her body. She shook, certain that this would tear her apart, and her hands tightened on his hair.
The pleasure was too intense, and when she tipped over the edge, she screamed with it, screamed and kept on screaming as the sensations tore through her. It was like a force of nature that she couldn't control, and while she was still shaking, Mads mounted her, pressing his comforting weight on top of her. Whimpering with relief, she wrapped her arms and legs around him.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she whispered in his ear, and when he spilled deep inside her, he murmured soft and soothing things to her, told her how beautiful she was, how amazing and perfect she was, holding her close.
When they were both a little recovered, Mads gathered Tara close and pressed an almost chaste kiss to her forehead.
“I love you,” he said solemnly. “I've felt it for some time now, and... and, Tara, it's the truest part of me. If there is nothing else true about me, there is that, do you understand?”
She nodded, snuggling down next to his side, but a part of her still wondered. A truth had passed her lips, but it wasn't the one that she had been worried about, and as they drifted off to sleep, she wondered what would become of their truth and their love tomorrow.
***
“The castle has never had a name,” Mads said as they walked out the next morning. “It was built by the first settlers of the land, taken by Vikings and then taken by my people. I've heard stories about it my whole life, but I never thought that it could hold what Three in One said it did.”
The roads ended with the cabin that they had just left, and now there was a long hike to the castle where Fenrisulfir, the savior of the werewolves, and perhaps the single person who could turn the tide in the war between the werewolves and the fallen angels, had slept for a millennium.
The book that she was to use, that only she could use, was heavy in a small leather pouch slung over her shoulder, and she nodded.
“What... what do you think the Fenrisulfir will be like?” she asked, and she saw Mads' back stiffen.
“Terrible,” he said flatly. “They called him the Wolf That Ate the Sun when he lived, and his powers were so great that they took him for the son of an old god in this part of the world. He was powerful beyond anything we have seen since, and he was feared.”
“And we are going to wake him up,” Tara mused.
Mads turned to her sharply. “Are you having doubts now?” he demanded. “After we have come so far?”
Not about the Fenrisulfir, she thought, even as she shook his head.
“I believe you and I trust you,” she said softly. “I know that you are doing the right thing for your loved ones, for your people.”
He was as still as a statue for a long moment, and then he approached her. Sometimes, when they were laughing together in bed or when she was curled up in his lap, it was easy to forget what a big man he was, how large he was and how dangerous. There was a moment of fear in her when he loomed over her, as dark and dangerous as the wolf he could become, and then there was such a softness in his gaze that she felt a part of her melt.
“You are one of my loved ones now,” he said earnestly. “You are precious to me, more so than my life. Do you understand?”
She nodded, unwilling to trust words because of the lump in her throat.
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and he dropped a soft kiss to her forehead. There was a great deal of ground to cover, but for a long moment, he simply held her. She wondered if there was something desperate about it, if he was holding on to her so long and so hard for a reason, but then he pulled away and they started walking again.
The ruins of the castle were dropped low to the ground, with only a single tower still spiking toward the sky. They only approached it as the sun started its drop over the horizon, and Tara shivered.
“It looks lonely,” she said, gazing over the stones. The dying light turned the stones an unearthly shade of deep orange-red, and the thought of blood and how much the stones had seen spilled echoed in her mind.
Mads was silent, and as they entered the ruins, a sense of silence fell over both of them. Three in One's directions had told them to look for a door, set flat into the earth, but there was a great deal of ground to cover and the light was fading fast on them.
Tara knew that with the supplies in Mads' pack that they could make camp if necessary, and that they would neither freeze nor starve, but the idea of spending the night in the ruins of the ancient castle made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up straight.
Together, they searched the grounds, and it wasn't until all of the light was leached from the sky that they discovered the round door set into a patch of ground at the foot of the tower. It was overgrown with moss and the only way that Tara found it at all was by noticing a patch of ground that was surprisingly smooth and circular. There was a heavy ring that was designed to pull it up, but when she tugged, the door might as well have been made with cement.
“Will we be able to open it at all?” she wondered, and Mads laughed.
“This is a test,” he said. “Humans don't have the sheer strength in their arms to budge a door like that, and the angels, well, perhaps they could. It takes a werewolf to do it, and more than that, it takes a werewolf alpha male, do you see? This place is only meant for the strong, and for the pack.”
“A crane could do it,” she pointed out, and Mads' laugh was slightly rueful.
“Well, you have to understand that this was the tenth century or earlier,” he said. “We didn't reckon on things like cranes or clever girls with books then.”
He stripped off his coat, and in the chilling evening air, he reached for the iron ring.
That was when they heard the flapping of enormous wings and a cry that was half-mewling seagull and half-screaming hawk. Tara felt a shudder of fear race up her spine, and Mads crouched down into a fighting stance, staring at the sky.
The sky was almost completely dim violet now, but there was still enough light to see three, no, four winged figures circling high above them. Even from the ground where they stood, Tara could see that these were no birds. They could be nothing but the fallen angels that had chased and hunted Mads' people to near extinction, and she knew that if they found her, they would tear her to pieces as well.
Mads swore, and she saw the ripple of muscle over his shoulders that told her he wanted to be in his wolf form more than anything, where he had power and teeth to spare. Then he glanced at her, glanced at the door, and took a grip on the ring again.
“I'm going to open this,” he growled. “You're going to go inside. Take the flashlight in my pack, find the tomb. I'll be right behind you.”
“I can't leave you behind,” she protested, but his answering growl was more animal than human, and she hurried to his pack with shaking hands. His flashlight was a large heavy thing, nearly as long as her forearm and made of steel. It was a comforting weight in her hands, and she gripped it tight.
The angels were circling closer, and she wondered if they couldn't see them very clearly in the rubble of the castle. If their eyes were only as strong as hers, they might not want to dive blind into the darkness of what could be an ambush. Though it gave her pleasure to think about the idea of a furious Mads tearing into them like a whirlwind, Tara only had a brief moment to think about that before she heard Mads' groan.
Every muscle on his body stood out in stark relief as he pulled on the ring, and for a very long moment, it looked as if he must fail. The door refused to budge, and she could hear the deep growl from Mads' chest that told her he was pulling with everything he had.
She was so busy watching him that she failed to see the first angel dive. Before either of them knew it, it was upon them, dropping on them like a bomb with a furious cry.
Without thinking about it, Tara stepped forward and wildly swung Mads' heavy flashlight at it, and to her shock, she landed a brutal blow to the thing's shoulder that made it squawk like a goose. With an inelegant flop, it was airborne again, gaining altitude with every sweep of its wings, and Tara turned to Mads.
“Get the door open,” she said as firmly as she could. “I'll keep them off of you.”
Mads looked like he wanted to protest, but the truth was brutally simple. She couldn't open the door on her own, and he couldn't fight four angels while he was trying to protect her. Their eyes met, and he nodded once, going back to the door with a ferocious look.
Tara looked back just in time to see another angel take a lunge. This time she was better prepared, and the swing she took at it was powerful and deliberate. The flashlight connected solidly with its body, and though she knew that she had no hope of injuring one in any real way, she could at least fend it off and make it avoid landing long enough to hurt Mads while he was vulnerable.
She tried to keep an eye on every angel in the sky, but it was difficult. The sole standing tower blocked her view of some of the sky, and with every moment that passed, the sky was getting darker. She flipped on the light so that she could see better, but she knew with a sinking certainty that it only made their location more obvious to the winged terrors that were flying above.
She thought briefly of the angel that had appeared to her after the trial set before her by the Three in One. She remembered how beautiful his face was, and how perfect his body was. Except for the enormous feathered wings, he was nothing like the scarred wrecks that were coming after them now, and she wondered what had happened to him. She wondered if he had driven away the Three in One, and what he might have done if Mads hadn't been there to drive him off. It was strange, but she had felt no menace from him at all, no threat.
Another angel dove at her, and this time, a scarred pale arm shot out, and latched firmly around the shaft of the flashlight. Tara screamed and clung to it frantically, and found herself being lifted off the ground. With a desperate cry, she threw herself backwards, freeing herself and sending the angel flying toward the sky again.
“Don't stop,” she cried to Mads. Without looking, she knew that he wanted to come to her side. “Don't stop, we have to get in there!”
She stood nervously waiting for the angels, and then, as her stomach dropped to her toes, she saw two of them meet in the air, and then break apart.
At some signal that she couldn't recognize, they both dove for her and Mads at the same time, and she braced herself. They would strike at once, and she already knew how powerful they were. Some part of her brain screamed at her to run, but she knew if she did, then Mads would be completely unprotected.
As they dove, there was a sound of rending metal and wood behind her and a clang as stone hit steel. The angels were right on top of her, so close that she could see the terrible scars on their faces, but then she was swept to one side by a fury of growls and snapping teeth.
Angels were met with the might of an alpha wolf, and Mads' mass hit them both with equal force, She could see her lover battle for their throats, to rip and to rend. The angels expected a human woman with a flashlight, and instead, they had a full-grown adult wolf who was tried in the ways of battle with their kind.
The angels rolled back from him and gained the sky again, but there was no doubt in Tara's mind that they would be back in a matter of heartbeats.
“Mads...”
With a deep growl, he pushed her toward the open door with his bulk, and she tried to protest.
“Not without you,” she argued. “Come with me, we'll close the door behind us.”
Then she saw the door and realized that it was impossible. The door would be just as difficult to close as it was to open, and while they were closing it, the angels would take them both.
“Please,” she said, tears in her eyes, but Mads was implacable. He bared his teeth and when she would have clung to his fur, he snapped them inches from her fingers.
She knew he would never hurt her, but she understood. Right now, he needed her to obey, and she approached the hole.
With a deep breath, she tucked the flashlight under her arm and reached for the steel rungs pounded into the stone walls. They were freezing cold under her bare fingers, but they would not pull away, and she began her descent into the earth.
Above her, she could hear the deep howls of Mads and the scream of the angels that were attacking him, and she descended faster. Now she had seen the fury of the war he fought, and how relentless the angels were. The idea of those angels attacking children made her blood boil, and she knew she had to do everything she could.
She went deeper and deeper and the sounds of battle above her faded. Her stomach churned, thinking about Mads fighting alone, but she knew that the best thing that she could for him would be to get him the help he needed.
Her fingers shook, and her exhaustion from the hike of the day caught up with her, and slowly, she could feel her whole body shake with the tension of being on the ladder. She had no idea how deep the hole was, and once her foot slipped, making her yelp. She miraculously did not lose the flashlight, but it was a near thing, and she kept herself still so that she could breathe deeply for several long moments.
Her searching foot hit the ground, and now the only light was from her flashlight. It shone bright and steady, and far above her, she could just barely make out the tiny circle of indigo light where Mads was.
Tara shone the flashlight around, and now she could see that she was in a small stone chamber. It was perfectly round, and to one side, she could see a deep tunnel that sloped even further into the earth. Taking a deep breath, and letting the flashlight light the way, she started walking. The darkness of the tunnel was absolute; every part that was not lit by the flashlight was a blackness so deep it threatened to suffocate her.
As she swept the light in front of her, she caught sign of small figures incised on the stone, and she took a moment to glance at them. They were werewolves, she saw very quickly. They were simple figures, little more than stick men, and they showed men who crouched to rise as wolves, and how they were chased by people with wings. The struggle between the werewolves and the angels had gone on longer than any human born, and she shuddered to think of what it might mean to be born to such a fate, to have a war like that written into your bones.
She knew that she had not walked for long, but it still felt like it had been forever when the tunnel came to an end. Here the air was musty and stale, and she knew that there was death here. It was in the stillness of the air, and the deep quiet of the chamber.
In front of her, she could see a stone crypt, and when she approached, she saw runes inscribed on the top. Norse runes were not her area, but she knew enough to puzzle out the meaning.
“Here rests the heart of Fenrisulfir. May he be forgiven,” she read. It seemed like a strange inscription to give a fallen hero, but she remembered the dark look that Mads had worn when they spoke about his people's history. Dark times made for uneasy heroes, and she could understand that.
The stone crypt itself was as solid as a piece of stone, and when she knocked on it, there was no echo at all.
Her heart beating hard in her chest, she pulled out the book that had started her on this quest, the one that had brought Mads into her life. Once or twice over the last few weeks, she had wondered if she would have left it in the used bookshop where she had found it if she had known what it meant, and always the answer had been never.
She found the page, the one for the release of things bound, and though her voice was harsh and thready at first, gradually she gained confidence. The words were twisted and strange, and she knew that there were people who believed that the language she now spoke was older than Latin, older than the earliest Chinese or Korean characters.
Tara spoke the twisting syllables, and even as the air woke up around her and electricity started to prickle on her skin, she didn't stop. There was power here, and now she realized that it all belonged to her. Like Mads had teeth and strength, she had this. This was her, and she knew that even as she and Mads changed the world, this would change her.
Tara chanted softly, and the words appeared in gold in the air around her. They twisted and spun around the sarcophagus, embracing it, binding it, and she saw hairline cracks in the stone that had been invisible before.
Her chanting grew louder and louder, and she felt the power rush through her. There was nothing that she could not do, nothing that was impossible for her, and she uttered the last few words with a savage cry of joy.
The golden light intensified and disappeared, and for a moment she thought she had failed. Then she realized that the gold light had only traveled to the heart of the crypt, and slowly it began to glow again.
The stone shook, growled as deep as Mads did in his fury, and then it crumbled to the ground, pieces falling off. It was slow at first, but then with a deep groan, the stone shattered entirely
When the last part of the stone fell, she heard a shout behind her, and then a scream. With horror, she realized that the angels had followed Mads into the ground with her, and now Mads, human and running, burst into the chamber, pursued by three furious angels.
By the light of the flashlight, she could see their scarred faces, that Mads was injured, and that she had failed.
There was no hero lying in the rubble, nothing but power spent for no cause, and sacrifice that had led her and Mads to die in the ground.
Despite that, Mads' never faltered, and instead of being dismayed, he dove for the rubble. She gasped, certain that the angels would tear him to pieces, but when he came up, it was with a blade in his hands.
She had never seen anything like it. It was nothing like the swords she had seen in her favorite movies or in the history books. This was an old and a savage thing, nearly as tall as a man and with a blade made of hammered black iron. It seemed like a clumsy thing for a man to wield, but the moment he lofted it into the air, the angels began to scream.
The sound of it echoed in the chamber, and it was loud and strident enough that Tara dropped the book, covering her ears tight.
She looked up just in time to see Mads strike the angel closest to him down, and with a single blow, it crumpled to the floor, going deathly still. The other two fled back into the tunnel, and Mads came to her, a look of victory on his face.
“Tara, we've done it,” he started, but she climbed to her feet, backing away from him.
“You lied to me,” she said, and there was a deadness to her tone that she thought might be there forever. “You told me you wouldn't, and you lied to me...”
Mads looked stricken, but she couldn't see anything except the sword he held in his hands.
“Is this what this was for?” she asked. “A sword?”
“Not any sword,” he said. “This is the sword of Fenrisulfir. It's the only thing on this earth that can kill angels. Tara, this can turn the tide of the war for us.”
“You didn't trust me,” she said, stuffing the book back into her bag. “You could have, but you didn't.”
Mads reached for her hand, but she pulled herself away. She didn't know if she could stand to let him touch her again.
“You sent me looking for a hero, and all I found for you was a bigger stick.”
There was rage and frustration, and yes, sorrow on his face as well, and he shook his head.
“You helped me find the thing that will let me save my people. With this, I can win this war,” he said, and she nodded.
“I hope so,” she said softly. “Just know that from now on, you will be doing it without me.”
He started to respond, and then he turned his head to the entrance of the tunnel, where the other two angels had disappeared.
“This isn't over,” he said. “I'll deal with those two, and Tara, we must talk.”
She stared at him until he broke their gaze, running into the darkness. Feeling as if every bone in her body was broken, she went to follow behind. She didn't care what he had to say. The humiliation of being lied to, of being used, rang in her head and through her heart, and if she hadn't thought that he would come right back to look for her, she would have lain down in the rubble to cry her heart out.
Instead, she knew that she did not want to be anywhere where he was, and she simply began to walk.
When she emerged into the ruins, it was full dark, and Mads and the other two angels were nowhere to be seen. On open ground, it would be a much more even fight, even if Mads had the sword, and though a part of her still ached to follow him, she knew that she could not, not and still be true to herself.
Feeling more tired than she ever had in her life, she started to walk, and as she did so, the memories of the last few weeks started to swirl around her. She realized she had left everything for this man, the one who had turned out to be little better than a killer and a liar. She remembered the tender way that he held her, and the promises they had exchanged, and she did not realize she was crying until the water dripped down her face.
Tara wiped at them furiously and made herself put one foot in front of the other. The area that they were in was relatively flat, but she knew that if she were not careful, she would go tumbling down among the rocks and weeds. If she were very unlucky, she would run right into Mads, and she knew that given his superior tracking abilities, he would be able to find her when he was done. Though she could still feel the deep need for him that she had in her heart and her body, she kept walking. She wanted more space between them. She couldn't look at him.
“Tara.”
She spun around, but even as she did, she knew that it was not Mads' tone.
Instead, the man facing her was beautiful in a way that Mads would never be. He was like a Greek statue, pale as ice, and a pair of broad white wings stretched toward the sky. The only thing that prevented him from being entirely naked was a white cloth kilt around his hips, and he gazed at her with gray eyes that were as gentle as morning sunlight.
She knew that she was in the presence of something different than the angels that she had met before. She knew that he had warned her as best he could of Mads' lies. Still, she was too tired to do more than stare at him.
“What do you want?” she asked, and he tilted his head at her.
“To see you safe, if you will let me,” he said simply, and her lips quirked in a bitter smile.
“Why would you want that? If you're an angel, you have every right to want me dead, given what I've helped Mads Magnussen do.”
“We are not all burned and fallen,” he said. “I stand apart from my brothers and their war, and once, long ago, I was the guardian of prophecies and fate. My gifts are gone from me almost entirely now, but I see well enough for some things, and I want you to be safe and protected.”
“And because I asked him to, daughter.”
Tara spun around, too tired for surprises, but she still blinked to see the woman who had been introduced to her as Millie and then revealed as Three in One. When last they had spoken, the woman had sent her on a hellish trip into her own mind and her own insecurities, but now she could sense that it was not the same woman at all.
Instead, there was a motherly grace that suffused her round face, and Tara, whose relationship with her own mother was shattered, felt a deep yearning need that she had never voiced. This on top of the stress and pain that she had already endured broke something inside her, and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.
She could have stood firm until she felt warm arms wrap around her, and then she was weeping all of her fears and her pain into the woman's bosom, babbling words of loss and hurt.
“I know, I know, shh, my love,” the woman kept saying, and she sheltered Tara in her arms until Tara could stand.
“I need to go,” Tara said. “I need to keep walking, he'll find me, and...”
“He won't while I do not wish it,” the woman said peaceably, “and until you want him close, he will not come, this much I swear to you for your piece in what is to come.”
Tara wondered about what she meant, but the angel spoke again.
“You have a greater part to play in this,” he said solemnly. “You are blessed, and you are protected, and the Three in One is correct. You will not be taken until you wish it, and I will pledge myself to your cause. I stand apart from the war, and I will protect the one who ends it.”
Tara laughed, slightly hysterical. “You mean the one who escalated it, don't you?” she asked. “Have you seen what I have given Mads?”
The angel shook his head. “It is more important what he has given you, Tara,” the angel said earnestly, and his eyes dropped to her belly.
“No, oh no,” Tara whispered, but her hands flew to her still-flat stomach as if to cradle what was inside.
“Yes, I'm afraid so,” the woman said sympathetically. “Now you know what the stakes are, and now you know how far you must run.”
When Tara thought about it, she knew there was no choice for her. She couldn't give up the child, and she could never allow it to be given to Mads' people, to be raised at war with the angels. She needed to get free, she needed to get away, and she looked imploringly at the pair.
“Help me,” she said softly, and they nodded.
“That is what we are here for,” said the angel. “I am Lukas, and believe me when I say I will protect you as best I can.”
The woman nodded, a slight smile on her face. “Take his help, daughter,” she said. “It will be fine, you will see.”
With a hesitant nod, she stepped closer to Lukas, gazing up into his inhumanly perfect face. There was an ancient power there that she could not comprehend, but there was compassion as well, and she nodded.
“I'll go with you,” she said, and with nothing more than that, he clasped her in his arms and launched them in the air.
The earth fell away at a dizzying rate, but when she relaxed, she realized that she felt safe. There was an indefinable sense of kindness to this man, and she allowed him to hold her close and take her away.
She didn't dare look down. It wasn't because she was afraid of heights, but she knew that if she saw Mads down there, howling after them, she would not be able to resist going to him. She loved him, she always would, and she realized that she might never see him again.
Tara wept softly as the angel carried her toward another dawn, cradling her belly would e the same.
TO BE CONTINUED...