traitorous Edwin Mayne, her blood mingling with the trapperâs, as the Heirs neared. âYou and I are in danger. We must leave at once. I am your friend,â she repeated, holding out one trembling hand. The wolf leaned closer, cautiously sniffing her palm.
She expected, at any moment, to have her hand torn from her body. Instead, the air shimmered. A vapor gathered around the wolf, silvery light gleaming through the mists, like clouds covering the moon. The vapor swirled, then dissolved, revealing Nathan Lesperance on hands and knees where the wolf had been. Blood smeared his mouth. He glanced down at the trapperâs corpse, then lurched upright and back until he connected with the wall.
Lesperance stared at her, utterly, profoundly shocked by what had just happened. He brought shaking fingertips to his mouth and started when they came away wet and red. He did not seem to care that he was completely nude. What was modesty compared to the incredible, awful truth?
Before he could speak, Astrid crossed the cabin to him. She stepped over the splayed, still form of Edwin, unconcerned that she tracked his blood over her formerly clean floor. From her back pocket, she produced a kerchief. Lesperance reared back when she reached for him, knocking his head into the wall behind him.
âEasy,â she murmured, bringing the square of fabric up to his mouth.
âDonât want to hurt you,â he said hoarsely.
âYou wonât.â She carefully wiped the blood from his lips until it was completely gone. The kerchief was ruined, though, and she tossed it to the ground.
âIâve neverâ¦â He swallowed hard, then shut his eyes when he tasted blood. But he was strong, because he opened his eyes a second later. âIâve never killed anyone before.â
Astrid turned away. âIt doesnât get easier.â
Â
Considering that Astrid Bramfield had just watched him change into a wolf and rip a manâs throat out, she was damned calm. Nathan, buried in layers of shock, watched her bustle around the cabin with a levelheaded precision that would have shamed the most seasoned soldier.
âHelp me strip the body,â she said, tugging on the dead trapperâs buckskin coat.
Nathan normally bridled at being told what to do, but in this instance, he couldnât bring himself to be angry. At least someone was thinking clearly. He moved to follow her command, helping her to pull off the trapperâs coat, deerskin leggings, wool shirt, and boots. Blood stained the coat and shirt, blood that was still wet because Nathan had taken his teeth to the manâs throat and torn at the flesh until the man died. Holy hell.
âLesperance.â Astrid Bramfieldâs voice cut into the downward spiral of his thoughts. âDonât travel that road. Put the clothes on.â
Numb, Nathan did so. The garments were ill-fitting, cut for a heavier, taller man, and they still held the warmth of the trapperâs body. Soon, the body would be cold.
As he dressed, he kept his eyes trained on Astrid Bramfield, knowing instinctually that if anything could keep him from losing his mind entirely, it would be her. He felt her strength, her presence. Normally, he relied on his own. But heâd lost his mooring and found steadiness in her. It shouldnât be a surprise. He knew the moment he met her yesterday that this was a woman of uncommon will, a will that matched his own.
She pulled on her heavy coat and her broad-brimmed hat, then culled items from the cabin, things needed for a journey. She knelt in front of a box at the foot of the bed. From this, she loaded a cartridge belt with rifle shells. Women who lived in the wilderness had to be familiar with using firearms, but this woman possessed a long familiarity with weapons. That much was evident in her economic, efficient movements.
Nathan, tugging on the trapperâs oversized boots, saw her hesitate over an item in
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