Read Online Wolfsbane: Aspect of the Wolf by Jennifer Colgan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jennifer Colgan
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I mean.” Emilie felt the heat rolling off him in waves. She tensed and her muscles clenched when he tipped up her chin with his fingers and looked into her eyes. “I had to choose between you and Vance. I hated leaving you. I hated that I thought about killing the wolf to save you from him."
Emilie swallowed hard. Every possible retort crashed together in her mind, into a jumble of unusable words. Daniel plowed on, though, saving her from mumbling incoherently.
"Even when I was running through the park, searching for him, afraid the cops might find him, the only image in my mind was of you, under him, those filthy claws on your skin. I couldn't shake the image of him hurting you—and I wanted to kill him for it."
Emilie drew in a labored breath. It seemed as if the air had turned to liquid between them. Their faces hovered inches apart, and she felt her aching body drawn to his.
"I'm sorry.” Her words slipped out as a tortured whisper. She looked into his eyes again and saw something that made her blood pound and her knees weak.
He brushed his thumb over her lips; it felt like a kiss. Emilie closed her eyes.
" I'm the one who's sorry. I should have told you."
"Told me what?” She tipped back her head, her heart hammering.
"The wolf is inside me, too. Both of us."
Emilie's stomach flip-flopped as a rush of cold realization washed over her. “You're a werewolf, too?"
"Son of a werewolf. Grandson of a werewolf."
"Huh?"
Daniel took her hand and led her to the couch. “Pop was a werewolf hunter first. He became one when he was about twelve. He was bitten not long afterward, yet he managed to keep the secret for more than thirty years, even from our grandmother. Even after our father was born, he didn't tell her."
"But he told you?"
"I found out from reading his journals. My father didn't even know half of it. He had the wolf in him, too, but he didn't transform—at least as far as I know. He was never bitten, and you have to be bitten in order to transform. Pop apparently kept Dad out of it, wouldn't allow him to become a werewolf hunter."
Emilie nodded as the puzzle pieces fell into place. The spell hadn't separated Vance from the beast because they were too closely entwined. The wolf had an anchor to hold onto within Vance, and making it let go wouldn't be easy.
"Your grandfather was killed by a werewolf hunter, wasn't he?” she whispered.
The pain in Daniel's eyes told her only part of the answer. “He had a few close calls and finally stopped hunting. He tried to avoid his old friends because he didn't want any of them to have to kill him one day.” He looked away, stiffening under her touch as he spoke. “I was seventeen. Pop had a cabin that bordered on the state forest. He stayed there in the summers after my grandmother died. Sometimes Vance and I would sneak up there at night, but he'd drive us home in the morning and never tell on us. One weekend, I went there alone because Vance had chicken pox ... he was so mad I was going without him..."
He smiled at the memory, but it didn't reach his eyes. Apparently, the pain was too deep. Emilie touched his face.
"A group of deer hunters wounded something by the lake. When I got up there, I saw it, crawling toward the cabin. I called for Pop, but he didn't answer. I panicked. I let myself in the back door and got his gun."
Emilie squeezed Daniel's shoulder. Her heart ached for him. She didn't need to hear the rest of the story, but he seemed compelled to tell it.
"They'd wounded it pretty badly and it was crazy with pain. I was going to shoot it, but I panicked. I ran and it chased me. Then it cornered me, and I fired. Just once."
"I'm sorry.” Emilie wrapped her arms around him and cradled him against her. He clutched her to him, and she felt the ragged beat of his heart.
"I should have told you, but Vance doesn't even know exactly what happened."
Emilie wiped away the tears that brimmed in her eyes. “It's okay. It's okay. We don't need to
Emilie swallowed hard. Every possible retort crashed together in her mind, into a jumble of unusable words. Daniel plowed on, though, saving her from mumbling incoherently.
"Even when I was running through the park, searching for him, afraid the cops might find him, the only image in my mind was of you, under him, those filthy claws on your skin. I couldn't shake the image of him hurting you—and I wanted to kill him for it."
Emilie drew in a labored breath. It seemed as if the air had turned to liquid between them. Their faces hovered inches apart, and she felt her aching body drawn to his.
"I'm sorry.” Her words slipped out as a tortured whisper. She looked into his eyes again and saw something that made her blood pound and her knees weak.
He brushed his thumb over her lips; it felt like a kiss. Emilie closed her eyes.
" I'm the one who's sorry. I should have told you."
"Told me what?” She tipped back her head, her heart hammering.
"The wolf is inside me, too. Both of us."
Emilie's stomach flip-flopped as a rush of cold realization washed over her. “You're a werewolf, too?"
"Son of a werewolf. Grandson of a werewolf."
"Huh?"
Daniel took her hand and led her to the couch. “Pop was a werewolf hunter first. He became one when he was about twelve. He was bitten not long afterward, yet he managed to keep the secret for more than thirty years, even from our grandmother. Even after our father was born, he didn't tell her."
"But he told you?"
"I found out from reading his journals. My father didn't even know half of it. He had the wolf in him, too, but he didn't transform—at least as far as I know. He was never bitten, and you have to be bitten in order to transform. Pop apparently kept Dad out of it, wouldn't allow him to become a werewolf hunter."
Emilie nodded as the puzzle pieces fell into place. The spell hadn't separated Vance from the beast because they were too closely entwined. The wolf had an anchor to hold onto within Vance, and making it let go wouldn't be easy.
"Your grandfather was killed by a werewolf hunter, wasn't he?” she whispered.
The pain in Daniel's eyes told her only part of the answer. “He had a few close calls and finally stopped hunting. He tried to avoid his old friends because he didn't want any of them to have to kill him one day.” He looked away, stiffening under her touch as he spoke. “I was seventeen. Pop had a cabin that bordered on the state forest. He stayed there in the summers after my grandmother died. Sometimes Vance and I would sneak up there at night, but he'd drive us home in the morning and never tell on us. One weekend, I went there alone because Vance had chicken pox ... he was so mad I was going without him..."
He smiled at the memory, but it didn't reach his eyes. Apparently, the pain was too deep. Emilie touched his face.
"A group of deer hunters wounded something by the lake. When I got up there, I saw it, crawling toward the cabin. I called for Pop, but he didn't answer. I panicked. I let myself in the back door and got his gun."
Emilie squeezed Daniel's shoulder. Her heart ached for him. She didn't need to hear the rest of the story, but he seemed compelled to tell it.
"They'd wounded it pretty badly and it was crazy with pain. I was going to shoot it, but I panicked. I ran and it chased me. Then it cornered me, and I fired. Just once."
"I'm sorry.” Emilie wrapped her arms around him and cradled him against her. He clutched her to him, and she felt the ragged beat of his heart.
"I should have told you, but Vance doesn't even know exactly what happened."
Emilie wiped away the tears that brimmed in her eyes. “It's okay. It's okay. We don't need to
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