Microsoft Word - 1606017438-Of-Night-and-Desire-Bailey.doc (8 page)

Valya rose to his feet swiftly. He stared at Richelle. Her eyes scanned the meadow as warily as a rabbit. He opened his mind to the night but could not sense anything beyond Richelle’s nervousness and alarm that someone or something was watching her. He stepped closer to her, trying to ease her tension. She smiled weakly and placed her trembling hand on his head. He looked about the meadow, trying to discern any shadows that did not belong on her mountain. Nothing. But he knew of Richelle’s gifts inherited from her mother. If she sensed something, then there was something there.

He mentally called to the wolf pack. They became instantly alert and trotted over to Valya and Richelle, surrounding them as they scanned the edge of the forest, raising their snouts to the air, trying to catch the scent of anything that was out of place. He knew they could not sense a thing except

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for Richelle’s growing tension. A bead of perspiration dotted her brow as her eyes kept darting across the meadow. Making little noise, she slowly got to her feet. She kept her hand on Valya’s neck as they started toward the trail.

Valya took the lead. Although he could sense nothing, he had the dubious sensation of déjà vu as the skies became lighter with the approaching dawn. It reminded him of another night so very long ago. When he had failed to save one bright soul, and in her death, she had given him the most precious gift of life. He had failed before, but he would not fail now.

He would never let any harm befall Richelle again. And while he could not sense any danger, Richelle could. And he trusted the power in her gifts.

With every step, he could sense her apprehension. Returning to the cabin should have calmed her fears, but instead, they were mounting. That didn’t make any sense to him, but still he led on, each step becoming more lethargic as the dawn approached. He needed to go to his rest to replenish his strength, but he would not leave Richelle alone again. She belonged to him.

He willed his feet to go faster to the safety of the cabin. There was a hidden cavern beneath where they could hide, where she would be out of harm's way and where he could sleep. But each step they took made her more frightened. She stopped, her hand tugging him to a stop as well. He raised his head to the night as the other wolves did, trying to sense anything.

It was faint at first, barely noticeable. But it became stronger—the scent of malevolence, hatred, fear, and sweat.

He growled low, the hair on his neck standing on end. The others in the pack followed suit, baring their teeth, ready for a battle. Valya moved in front of Richelle and backed into her, forcing her the other way along the trail as he continued to growl at the tree line. The scent was becoming stronger, coming closer. He could not wait any longer. He lowered the barrier to his mind to issue his silent command to Richelle.

“Run! Quickly, down the path and into the woods. Hide! I will find
you!”

* * * *

50

Mia Bailey

Richelle backed away from the silver wolf, aghast. She had heard that voice before, she remembered. But how could it be?

“Quickly, go! I will find you!”

She turned and ran into the woods. Just as she reached the shelter of the trees, she heard men yelling and screaming and the growling and barking of wolves as they safeguarded her escape. She wanted to turn and see what was happening, but there was no need. She could feel what was happening; she could see it in her mind. Her stomach churned at the thought of her friends fighting, dying for her.
I’m going to be sick,
she thought frantically.

As quickly as it had begun, there was silence from behind her. The wolves were quiet. She stopped, straining to hear, opening her mind, trying to sense her friends. Nothing. She turned and mentally called to the wolves, begging them to respond. Again she heard nothing except the sound of footfalls on the forest floor, breaking twigs with each step. Again she mentally called for the wolves. Nothing. They were gone. She wanted to die with them.

But an overwhelming sense of self-protection overcame her. She turned and ran faster, as fast as she could. Her hair whipped wildly around her face as she tried to escape the echoing footsteps behind her. She didn’t know from whom she was running. She didn’t know what he wanted from her.

She didn’t know where she was heading. She didn’t know what she would do when she got there. All she knew was to run. To run away. To escape.

Out of breath, she kept running, not caring where she was going. The footfalls behind her becoming louder, coming faster. She couldn’t see where she was running. In her mind, all she could see were several of her beloved wolves lying bloody on the ground beneath the waning moon—they had sacrificed themselves for her. She was heartbroken.

Without warning, a hand gripped her hair and pulled her back. She yelped with pain as she was swung around and faced her aggressor. He was tall, dark, with dark eyes, unshaven, and disheveled, with blood trickling from his mouth. He grinned viciously, his crooked teeth discolored from tobacco stains, and his breath reeked of alcohol.

“Preacher wants you.”

Her brows furrowed as she tried to close her mind to his hateful thoughts. She could see his thoughts, the perpetual devotion he held for the man he called Preacher. She knew who Preacher was. He was the old priest

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who had come for her when she was a child. He was the man who murdered her mother. She closed her eyes, trying to shut out the painful memories and covered her ears to shut out his vicious thoughts.

Her assailant chuckled low as he released her hair and grabbed her wrists, shaking her so she would open her eyes and face him. His grin had changed. He was now leering at her, licking his lips and pulling her against his body. She could feel his sorry excuse of an erection pressing against her thigh. She could see his ugly thoughts and they sickened her. She tried to pull her wrists free, but all he did was laugh at her pitiful attempts. He pushed her against a nearby tree and released her wrist, clutching one of her breasts instead. He gripped it painfully and smiled when she cringed.

“Preacher wants you. He can have you…after.”

He leaned in, his foul breath hot against her skin as she turned her head to avoid his lowering mouth. She opened her mind to reach for anyone who could help her. In that moment, all his evil and twisted thoughts entered her mind. She screamed as his lips touched her cheek. He pressed against her harder, trapping her between the tree and his body. He enjoyed tormenting her. Richelle knew what would happen if she couldn’t get away. With all the strength she could muster, she reached up and clawed his face, leaving deep gouges along his cheek.

He flung her away and screeched in pain. Landing with an oomph amid the branches and brambles upon the forest floor, she scrambled to get to her feet. He grabbed her foot and pulled back. Turning over, she kicked wildly trying to get free. But his vise-like grip was impossible to break. He pulled himself up over her body, gritting his teeth against the sting of his face. He gripped her chin in his hand to turn her face toward him.

“You will pay for that, bitch!” he spat. She struggled to turn away to no avail. Closing her eyes, she tried to squelch the revulsion she felt as he lowered his lips to kiss her.

Suddenly, the crushing weight fell away, and she was free. She heard growling intermixed with shrieks of panic. She turned and opened her eyes to see that he was struggling against her silver-gray wolf. He was gripping the wolf on both sides of his jowls, trying to hold him off, but to no avail.

She watched in utter shock as her wolf grabbed hold of her assailant’s neck and, with one mighty jerk, ripped out his throat.

52

Mia Bailey

She didn’t move as she watched his life force flicker out with the blood that drained from his body. She felt no remorse in his death, for his life wasn’t worth living. He was a pitiless man thriving on the pain and humiliation of others who had chosen to follow a religious fanatic. There was no remorse nor joy, only relief that he was gone. The silver wolf released the man and came to her. He fell at her feet, exhausted. She leaned over and placed her head upon his, trying to ease the pain that radiated off him. Stroking his fur, she tried to ascertain the extent of his injuries. Behind her, the black alpha wolf limped to where they sat. He whimpered, sensing her distress at her silver’s injuries.

“Richelle.”

She raised her head at the sound of her name. Looking about, she saw no one. She lowered her head to her wolf again.

“Richelle.”

She raised her head and looked at her wolf, his eyes boring into hers.

“Follow the black alpha. He will lead you to safety.”

“But what of you?”

“I am tired. I need to find sleep.”

“You saved me. And I don’t even know who you are.”

“You know me. You have always known me.”

“Who are you?”

“I am he who has always watched over you and protected you from
those who would do you harm. I am he who has been destined to be your life
mate.”

She gasped at the words
life mate
.

He was an Immortal. Could it be him? She tried to see into his mind, but she couldn’t. It was as if he had surrounded his mind with a shield she could not penetrate. Her brows furrowed as she tried to delve deeper, to see who he was. Nothing. She was perplexed. She had never met anyone who could keep his thoughts secret from her. It was a singularly unique situation, leaving her feeling almost at a disadvantage. Yet, she still needed to know.

“Who are you?”

“I am Valya, the Guardian, and I love you.”

Like a dam bursting, emotions she couldn’t name flooded her being at his words of love and endearment. Feelings she didn’t understand clenched at her heart as silent tears trailed down her cheeks. And while there was an

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awareness of the world being reborn into something unfamiliar, she wasn’t afraid. Rather, she was encased in a great serenity.

She had sensed there was something about the silver that gave her soul peace and now she understood.

He
was
the wolf from her childhood, coming to her when she needed comforting.

He
was the man who came to her in her dreams, holding her and chasing her fears away.

And she would not desert him when he needed her.

“I cannot leave you.”

“You must. You must be protected.”

“I cannot be without you.”

“Another will find you. You will not be alone.”
Barriers that had prevented her from touching his mind disappeared. He was lying to her.
“I
don’t want another. I want the one who has always been there for me,
protected me, loved me. I want you.”

Richelle didn’t know where these emotions came from. Nor did she understand why she affirmed them so vehemently. But in her heart she believed she could not be without him.

Valya did not answer. Richelle could feel his energy ebb from him as the dawn approached. She looked beseechingly at the black alpha.

“Help me,”
she implored.

The black alpha stared at her and then turned his gaze to the wolf dying in her arms. Richelle sensed his admiration of Valya—how bravely he had fought. When Valya was injured, the black alpha pressed on and protected her from the man who had gotten away from the rest of the pack.

“He is an honorable
creature worthy of survival
," thought the alpha. He turned back to Richelle and nodded his head.

“I will help.”

54

Mia Bailey

Valya’s mind wandered in the realm of dreams. They had to be dreams because they could not be real. They could not be happening. In his mind, he saw Richelle, coming to him without fear. She cleaned and tended his wounds. She bathed him and laid him on a bed. She stayed by his side, stroking his brow and speaking soft words of endearment to him as she lulled him to sleep with her voice.

How he wanted it to be true. If he could only believe that Richelle could truly care for him. But he knew it was all too much for a mere mortal woman to handle, even one as extraordinary as Richelle. If there were only a way he could break through the walls she had built around her heart, he would show her such love that she would never feel the pain of loneliness again. She would never feel any pain.

Pain.

Like the pain coursing through his body; his chest and shoulder were on fire from where he had been stabbed by the followers of the old priest. He knew the old priest would not stop coming for Richelle. He was insane, driven with his desire for recognition and lust for power. What he didn’t know was how the old priest had found her. She had traveled so far, had covered her tracks to well.

Pain.

It was a ramrod in his chest as he labored to breathe. Try as he might to will his body to sleep, thoughts of Richelle being alone and unprotected kept him awake. He needed to slow his heartbeat and his breathing so that his body could find rest and he could regain his strength, to heal. Not only for himself, but for Richelle. He vowed she would never be alone again. His body shuddered.

Pain.

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Sharper than before. His body shivered with cold. And then he felt warmth, calming and comforting. The pain
ebbed because of a hand.

Touching him. So soft, tender. He dreamed it was Richelle touching him, tending him.
Richelle, she is so beautiful.
He reached out to touch the vision of her face. He cupped her face in his dream, and she leaned into his palm.

How he longed to kiss her, but she was not real. She was only his fantasy.

Despite his injuries, his body cried out for Richelle.

Pain exploded through his shoulder into his head. Then there was blessed darkness. The night enveloped him in her warm embrace, and he finally fell into a deep slumber.