Uncaged (11 page)

             
“Good morning, my love,” Wren answered in a sleepy voice. “Where are we?”

             
“A friend’s home.”

             
“A friend?”

             
“Aye. An old friend of mine. Her na
me’s Amelia. I’ve known
her since I was a lad. She’s like a mother to me.”

             
Wren stared at Bruce as he brushed the hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind an ear.

             
“How are you feeling?”

             
Wren wrinkled her brow. “Hungry.”

             
Bruce chuckled. “You’ve been asleep for nearly two days now. What do you remember?”

             
Wren licked her dry lips. “You mean Sheldon and his wicked tongue? I assure you I have not forgotten that!”

             
“You remember nothing else?”

             
Wren thought for a moment. “Aye. I remember leaving on your stallion, but nothing else. Did I catch a terrible case of the ague?”

             
“No, my love. We were attacked en route to the city.”

             
“Oh?”

             
Bruce sighed, then kissed the tip of her nose as he pulled her closer. “I nearly lost you.”

             
“We were robbed by highwaymen?”

             
Bruce considered lying to her. Most of
London
believed the stories of vampires to be only legends, but those in the shiftie community knew they existed.

             
“No, it was a band of vamps. The Chivrall brothers. Surely you’ve heard of them.”

             
Wren’s eyes grew wider. “The Chivralls!”

             
Bruce only nodded, anxious to see her reaction and learn all that Wren knew of the most wicked parts of
London
.

             
“What happened?”

             
Bruce took her arm from beneath the sheet and lifted her bruised wrist, turning
it over.
Wren gasped. “They nearly bled you dry, my love. I thought you’d die…or worse.”

             
“Worse?”

             
Bruce watched her face. The color drained from her already pale complexion. Bruce wondered how many days had passed since she’d eaten properly. She only looked down at her wrist, exami
ning the two black holes there
now scabbed over.

             
“Wren?”

             
She looked into his eyes. Was that fear that he saw? Was she afraid that she’d been discovered and that he wouldn’t love her?

             
“I killed them all. They’re gone. I thought they’d taken you away from me and turned you into one of them.”

             
“But I am here,” Wren whispered, wincing as she noticed that they’d reopened the love bite at her breast.

             
“Aye. And you are not changed. What say you?”

             
Wren shrugged.

             
Bruce lifted her chin with one finger and stared straight through her. Wren blinked, not saying a word.

             
“Why are you now not a blood thirsty vampire like the Chivralls who poisoned you?”

             
“Perhaps God had saved me,” was all Wren could manage to say.

             
Bruce frowned. He wanted to hear it from her lips. He wanted
to hear those glorious words.
He thought she must have guessed his own heritage. He’d been so enthralled in his past memories. Memories of his beloved lioness. Any scent he picked up other than his own or Wren’s human scent, he guessed was his mind playing tricks on himself. He had surmised they were only figments of his imaginations, tricks of his broken mind, phantoms of long ago memories, but they were not. He really smelled a shiftie and it was
not
himself, it was Wren.  What he thought was conjured by mere daydreams of his past love, was Wren’s animal scent, loud and clear. And even now he was reveling in it. He was sure she had picked up his scent as well.

             
“It was not God, my love. It was the very blood that runs in your veins. A vampire cannot taint your blood and change you. But you can change yourself, just as I can.”

             
Wren’s mouth fell open. “What?”

             
Bruce only smiled as he took her face in his hands and buried his face between her breasts, inhaling deeply. Wren held his head in her hands. He felt her fingertips sift through his hair. He licked once and then sighed. She closed her eyes and let out a slow, ragged breath.

             
“Yes, love, I know,” Bruce said, returning to face her, looking deeply into her eyes.

             
“I hate it, Bruce,” she whispered.

             
Bruce frowned. “You hate who you are?”

             
She nodded.
Tears slipped out of the corners of her blue eyes, wetting her lashes. She blinked them away.

             
“Why, darling?”

             
“It’s so savage. I haven’t shifted
in years, since I was twelve.
I killed a fawn as her mother watched from the woods. I’ll never forget her cry as she fled into the woods.”

             
Bruce’s heart went out to her. He’d learned to live with his beast and accept it. She had not. “I am correct in saying that you knew?”

             
“That you are a shiftie?”

             
“Aye.”

             
“Yes. I knew. I also know that you were taken in
Africa
. It was I who placed the key and the broom so you might free yourself.”
             

             
Bruce laughed out loud. “You little sweetheart!”

             
Wren smiled weakly.

             
A thought struck him. “Was the captain a shiftie?”

             
“No, my mother, but she too chose to live only as a human.”

             
“Why? Bloody hell! She could have escaped those bastards!”

             
“I suspect she’s escaped and fled already. I have found much comfort in that thought. I only hope I can be reunited with her one day.”

             
“I never knew. I thought your scent was something I was picking up while reminiscing about my mate.”

             
“Your mate?” Wren pulled back from him, studying him closely.

             
Bruce wished he’d never mentioned it. He didn’t want to hurt her or make her jealous. “Aye. I took a mate in
Africa
and-”

             
Wren cut him off. “You’re love sick?”

             
“No, darling, no!”

             
He reached for her. She lay stiff against him. Her brows were touching in thin, black lines of confusion and anger. He could smell jealousy as it pumped through her, thickly sour. 

             
“She’s been gone for five years. Yes, I loved her, but it wasn’t meant to be. Our time together was short.”

             
“What happened to her?” 

             
Bruce could sense her calming. “She was murdered. Killed for her hide and then cooked over a fire by a tribe.”

             
Wren covered her mouth with her hands. Her expression changed from a jealous and untrusting scowl to a horrified look of pity. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered as she relaxed her body, inching closer to him. She kissed him fully on the mouth as tears leaked from her eyes.

             
Bruce could feel her relief. He too was relieved that neither of them had to hide their true identity. “How have you sustained yourself?”

             
“I eat meat.”

             
Bruce frowned. “That’s not the same thing. Are you not drained? Perhaps we could go on a-”

             
“No! I’ll never do that again. Never!” An angry scowl crossed her delicate features.

             
“But darling-”

             
He reaching out for her as she turned her back to him and rolled to the opposite side of the bed. He touched her shoulder and she jumped.

             
“Wren, darling. I know it’s hard. I could hunt for you if you like.”

             
She shook her head furiously and then buried it in the pillows, sobbing. Bruce moved closer, pulling her to him as he kissed her neck and back and whispered words of love to comfort her. “It won’t be so bad, love. I promise. You’ll feel so much better and right now you need to regain your strength. You were practically dead.”

             
Wren sniffed as her crying slowed. He gently rubbed her sore breast and held the other in his hand. “Have you considered living solely as a lioness?”

             
“Of course not. And live as a beast in the wild, out in the rain and the cold and never know where my next meal is coming from?”

             
“Perhaps you should consider it. It’s not like that. We’re the most powerful species in the jungle. I would take care of you and the jungle is never cold, love.”

             
“Do you realize how crazy you sound, Bruce?”

             
“Because I’m aware of who I am? And you pretend that side of you doesn’t exist?”

             
“Living in the wild? Like animals?”

             
Bruce kissed her on the shoulder. “That is what we are, love.”

             
“It’s not the life I want to live.”

             
“You’d rather live one full of prejudice?” Now Bruce was becoming angry. She was speaking like a fool. She’d never have to endure another day of discrimination. In
Africa
there are no Sheldons to humiliate her by calling her names. She would be accepted, but Bruce wondered if he was truly concerned about her feelings or more about his own. He could imagine his life as he truly wanted it now. He could exist as a lion without having to lose Wren. He decided to drop the matter. There would be plenty of time to discuss their future later.

             
“I care not what others think of me.”

             
Bruce knew she was lying. Sheldon had hurt her and embarrassed her. He’d made her feel worthless. Just thinking of it made him angry all over again.

             
“I’m sorry, love. You have been through too much of late for me to burden you with such matters.”

             
Wren laid the back of her head against his chest in response. He palmed her belly and hugged her to him. Her stomach growled. He thought of their child within and wondered if she knew, but that too would have to wait.

             
“Let me go fetch you something to eat, love.”

             
“Mmm…,” Wren mumbled, already falling back to sleep in utter exhaustion.

             
Bruce tucked the covers around her and kissed her neck before rising and pulling on his breeches and a shirt. He pulled his boots on and shut
the door quietly behind him.
Amelia would be preparing lunch for the tavern by now. He walked into the kitchen and found her stirring a black pot of bubbling chicken soup. She jumped when he grabbed her around the middle.

             
“Gads, Bruce! You scared the wits out of me! How is Wren?”

             
“Better, but she’s hungry.”

             
“I thought she might be, so I made some chicken soup. Cures every ill I’ve ever had.”

             
Bruce kissed her on the cheek. “You are wonderful. Is it ready now?”

             
“Let me get you a bowl. Have you talked yet?”

             
“A bit.”

             
“How’d it go?”

             
Bruce hesitated before answering. “Not so well.”

             
“Oh?” Amelia crossed the room and opened the hutch to retrieve a soup bowl.

             
“She considers her other half a curse and hasn’t shifted in years.”