himself.
No. It couldn't be. He'd never leave his pack. He was loyal
to them. But would he leave me? Her chest constricted and she carelessly
stumbled on the hem of her gown at the top of the stairway, scraping her hands
on the hard ground as she fell. Damn it. She didn't have time for her clumsy
ways. Mace needs me. Not bothering to dust herself off, she pushed to her feet
and continued to her chambers.
No guards were present, but Nayla didn't find it odd since
she'd given most of them the night off. The evening of the Harvest Ball was a
jolly time for all of Paqualette, whether one was invited to the Ball or not.
She assumed the remaining guards were downstairs, watching over the event.
In any case, she'd ordered Fenton to send three up along
with the castle's physician. She wouldn't allow Mace to die. He meant too much
to her. She only wished she'd seen this coming.
A lock of her hair fell from its tight bun and into her
eyes. She shoved it behind her ear and pushed through her door, silently
praying that Mace was okay.
The room was dark except for the light of the moon shining
through the opened terrace door. Nayla warily stepped inside and searched for
any sign of Mace, or, God forbid, his blood. She saw nothing unusual except for
that damn door. The boards had been pulled from it and thrown onto the floor.
What was going on here? And where was Mace? Had he needed to
change in order to heal? Or had he finally decided to attempt an escape?
She took a few steps forward but stopped when she heard
something much like the scrape of paws on the floor. Her breath halted as fear
paralyzed her. A large black werewolf with round, radiant blue eyes stepped
through the terrace door and into her chambers.
"Do not fear me." Mace's husky voice came from the beast's
mouth. "I won't hurt you, Nayla."
His enormous presence was ominous, as well as the shadow he
created, like a nightmare come true. One of these monsters had murdered her
parents, tearing out their throats and mercilessly clawing at their bodies.
She'd witnessed it all with her own eyes and the memory made her ill.
She couldn't run, she couldn't move at all. Her voice caught
in her throat, keeping her from screaming. She'd never felt more helpless and
she hated Mace for it. For all of it.
The room was silent except for her gulps of air breaking
through her clogged airway. What was he waiting for? Would he kill her now or
would he torture her first?
The jet-black wolf stood on its hind legs then, standing as
tall as a grown man and Nayla watched, petrified, as his limbs grew longer and
his torso shorter. His hair all but disappeared, leaving the long mane on his
head. And his face took on a human form. The room filled with the sound of
bones grinding and breaking, blood swishing and veins popping.
Until what stood in front of her was the man with whom she'd
spent the past fourteen nights. Not a killer, but her lover. A man she'd grown
to trust with a degree of intimacy she'd never shared with anyone else,
including Stephen.
Even as he frowned, he was the most gorgeous creature she'd
ever seen. Solemnly, he walked to her and braced her face. His thumb followed a
single tear that had leaked down her cheek. She cringed at first, with the
clear image of the wolf still fresh in her mind. How were they one and the
same?
"Is this why you dance with another man and not me? Because
I frighten you?"
Nayla couldn't tell if he was angry or sad. She was
confused, frustrated and she said the first thing she could pull from her
muddled thoughts. "Fenton said you attempted to take your life."
"Fenton is evil. Don't ever believe a word he says, do you
understand?" His hands lowered to her shoulders and he shook her lightly. "I'm
the one you can rely on. Not your councilman and certainly not the man who held
you in his arms on the ballroom floor."
"You were there?" Could this get any more perplexing? She
detested being misled.
"Yes. Who is he? I need to know." Mace's callused
No. It couldn't be. He'd never leave his pack. He was loyal
to them. But would he leave me? Her chest constricted and she carelessly
stumbled on the hem of her gown at the top of the stairway, scraping her hands
on the hard ground as she fell. Damn it. She didn't have time for her clumsy
ways. Mace needs me. Not bothering to dust herself off, she pushed to her feet
and continued to her chambers.
No guards were present, but Nayla didn't find it odd since
she'd given most of them the night off. The evening of the Harvest Ball was a
jolly time for all of Paqualette, whether one was invited to the Ball or not.
She assumed the remaining guards were downstairs, watching over the event.
In any case, she'd ordered Fenton to send three up along
with the castle's physician. She wouldn't allow Mace to die. He meant too much
to her. She only wished she'd seen this coming.
A lock of her hair fell from its tight bun and into her
eyes. She shoved it behind her ear and pushed through her door, silently
praying that Mace was okay.
The room was dark except for the light of the moon shining
through the opened terrace door. Nayla warily stepped inside and searched for
any sign of Mace, or, God forbid, his blood. She saw nothing unusual except for
that damn door. The boards had been pulled from it and thrown onto the floor.
What was going on here? And where was Mace? Had he needed to
change in order to heal? Or had he finally decided to attempt an escape?
She took a few steps forward but stopped when she heard
something much like the scrape of paws on the floor. Her breath halted as fear
paralyzed her. A large black werewolf with round, radiant blue eyes stepped
through the terrace door and into her chambers.
"Do not fear me." Mace's husky voice came from the beast's
mouth. "I won't hurt you, Nayla."
His enormous presence was ominous, as well as the shadow he
created, like a nightmare come true. One of these monsters had murdered her
parents, tearing out their throats and mercilessly clawing at their bodies.
She'd witnessed it all with her own eyes and the memory made her ill.
She couldn't run, she couldn't move at all. Her voice caught
in her throat, keeping her from screaming. She'd never felt more helpless and
she hated Mace for it. For all of it.
The room was silent except for her gulps of air breaking
through her clogged airway. What was he waiting for? Would he kill her now or
would he torture her first?
The jet-black wolf stood on its hind legs then, standing as
tall as a grown man and Nayla watched, petrified, as his limbs grew longer and
his torso shorter. His hair all but disappeared, leaving the long mane on his
head. And his face took on a human form. The room filled with the sound of
bones grinding and breaking, blood swishing and veins popping.
Until what stood in front of her was the man with whom she'd
spent the past fourteen nights. Not a killer, but her lover. A man she'd grown
to trust with a degree of intimacy she'd never shared with anyone else,
including Stephen.
Even as he frowned, he was the most gorgeous creature she'd
ever seen. Solemnly, he walked to her and braced her face. His thumb followed a
single tear that had leaked down her cheek. She cringed at first, with the
clear image of the wolf still fresh in her mind. How were they one and the
same?
"Is this why you dance with another man and not me? Because
I frighten you?"
Nayla couldn't tell if he was angry or sad. She was
confused, frustrated and she said the first thing she could pull from her
muddled thoughts. "Fenton said you attempted to take your life."
"Fenton is evil. Don't ever believe a word he says, do you
understand?" His hands lowered to her shoulders and he shook her lightly. "I'm
the one you can rely on. Not your councilman and certainly not the man who held
you in his arms on the ballroom floor."
"You were there?" Could this get any more perplexing? She
detested being misled.
"Yes. Who is he? I need to know." Mace's callused
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