Weregirl (6 page)

I was still a little girl, but the recollection is as vivid as my mother’s face because of the horror. The sorcerers brought in the man after he tried to shoot one of our pack and was bitten in the melee. My young psyche had been sorely damaged by the sight of the frothing monster writhing on the floor of the throne room. They killed him slowly, the dark sorcerers, in front of us all, torturing and tormenting him first before putting him down like a rabid dog while his stink, the taint of decay and death, stained the air of the vast chamber for weeks afterward.

“You see,” the Czar, our former leader, laughed as though the man’s plight and our witnessing his death were the utmost in amusement. “You must never try to make others of your kind. Only those born to your affliction, your filthy burden, will be allowed to live.”

I believed for a long time the Czar was right, that I and my people were diseased and unworthy of anything but slavery. Syd changed my mind, slowly, by example.

So much for hardening myself to the woman I’d become under her care. I sigh and toss my blonde hair back as I finally enter the throne room to face my grandfather, ready for a fight if I have to argue over Sage, but happy to sidestep Oleksander’s surveillance otherwise. It’s not like there is anything I can do if he indeed had me followed.

And who knows? By now, Syd’s influence might be the better choice. At least I would have memories of her and her family, reminders of who I could have been, to keep me warm through the coming days. And it is possible I may find a mate who understands and loves me to the best of his ability, despite the drawbacks and failings of my race.

I’m not holding my breath.

As I look up the long expanse, I forget everything I’ve been thinking about, embracing the distraction of the tall, handsome blond standing with one foot on the bottom step of the throne dais. My feet quicken and a real smile blossoms on my face. As hard as tonight has been, I have to remember I’m not alone. And from the sparkling grin on Piers Southway’s face, he’s as happy to see me as I am to see him.

***

He meets me partway, arms wide, letting out a grunt as I practically throw myself into his embrace. Piers hugs me tight against his tall, lean frame, the soft wool of his longcoat heating up the space between us. Icy blonde hair sweeps over me as his lips descend, a soft and friendly kiss to my mouth warming me up on the inside as the folds of his coat engulf me. I welcome the relief from the swirling cold of my inner turmoil.

Pale gray eyes sparkle as he smiles, pale, angular face calculating despite his grin. “Why, Your Highness,” he says, “what a surprise to find you here.”

I relax into his teasing, so grateful he’s here to keep me from spiraling further down into my gloom. This I don’t resist, the show of emotion more a game, a hint of fun I can cling to as the years go by. I may not be able to have Sage in my life, but I have a good friend who has made himself an ally of the werenation thanks to his close friendship with my fallen brother. He’s accepted and well-liked. And Piers is a frequent guest. Not feeling so alone any longer, I grin up at him. “You’re a little fresh tonight,” I say, leaving him to follow me as I finish my walk to the throne. “Kiss me without permission again and we’ll see what your pretty face looks like with my fist in it.”

Piers laughs and slips a familiar arm over my shoulders. “I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

Despite my challenge, I really do adore him, happy he’s here for me while I face off with Oleksander. I’ve been skirting Piers’s advances the last year or so, well aware from the feeling of him, the way he treats me, he has feelings for me beyond friendship.

My mind cranks over slowly, though connections are made at last. I may have been unwilling to shift from Sage to another possibility in the past, yes. But as I glance up at Piers’s smiling face, taking in the warmth of him, the gentle way he handles me despite his casual flair, how his scent alters when he’s near me, I wonder if perhaps he might be a suitable candidate. That my fears of a loveless and power-driven mating might not be so inevitable after all.

My wolf encourages the connection, masking my still painful feelings for Sage. She loves him as I do, but she is far more pragmatic. There are times I wish for less emotion and more the practicality of the wolf. This is one of those times. Though it hurts at first, I allow her to smother Sage and carry his memory away for a time so I can think, rationally and like the wereprincess I’ve come to be.

It helps a great deal, the sharp agony now only a dull ache I can barely feel. Perceptions shift as my wolf takes over. She’s well aware Piers isn’t a werewolf, but he has power, at least. But how would the werenation react if their prince consort was a sorcerer, so soon after our freedom from the Black Souls? I turn my head to meet my grandfather’s eyes, seeing through the gaze of my wolf. She’s not surprised by the hint of his approval and joy as we stand together.

The old wolf is actually pleased, obvious to me who can see past the mask of decorum he wears. And even the werewolf guards lining the throne room don’t seem to take affront to the friendly way Piers treats me. Has this been his plan for me? My wolf chuffs, though not in anger. Have Piers and my grandfather conspired to bring the two of us together? I should be upset, if that’s the case, but I’m so hopeful, suddenly, I might have more than I resigned myself to, I can’t summon anything beyond a smile.

This mating is a real possibility, then, one I hadn’t considered, not allowing myself to when Sage was my only thought. But standing here, with Piers, my wolf closing off the part of me longing for what I can’t have, the rest of me wondering now if maybe I might have the perfect mate at my side already, I relax and feel the last of Piers’s own tension leave.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be so mercurial, should cling yet to Sage and the love I know my wolf has partially buried under her stoic nature. But part of my desperate loss comes from the fear I will be married off for position and power. I simply cannot live a life like that. But with Piers… hope takes the last of my hurt away, at least for now.

It helps, not hinders, they’ve been feeling me out after all. While I’ve been ignoring the two of them and their fumbling attempts at matchmaking. No longer. I slip my arm around Piers’s waist, trying it on for size, and find I like the feeling of him against me. I know I should feel odd and awkward about thinking this way, considering how I’ve just left Sage and his bed. But my wolf, as practical as ever, encourages me, and I embrace the alternative as much as I do Piers.

Do I love him? No. At least, not yet. But he is a much better choice for me than any of the pack I know. My heart swells against my wolf’s control for a moment, Sage still fresh and close in my heart. Can I do this? Just abandon the love I feel, switch it off and never think of him again? Impossible. I will carry Sage inside me, his memory and the passion I feel for him, forever. A balm against what I must do, a reminder of what I could have had. But I can’t allow it to stop me, not with my duty looming.

He is with me while I shudder at the thought of having to mate with even the best of the werewolves at my disposal. At least Piers is handsome and funny and I like him as a friend so far. He’s nothing like Sage, but maybe that’s a good thing. The constant comparison would just be too much, eventually. And may be, anyway. But I can live with that, as long as I can have the memories of who Sage and I were together to keep me warm.

Piers makes me laugh, is kind and thoughtful and always there when I need him. Maybe one day I could learn to love him, to take the space Sage holds even now, even through the cloak of my wolf’s control. It’s enough. More than I expected. Enough to begin healing my heart.

He must feel the shift in my thinking because his cheeks pink, though he doesn’t loosen his grasp on me, his false casualness adorable, really. I return my focus to my grandfather, refusing to allow the traitor thought of my missing father to cloud this moment, to ruin what I’m building. Had Raoul only remained, he could have taken the heir’s position and saved me this, left me free to live my life. But my coward of a father hasn’t changed his fur. He fled shortly after Syd freed the weres and lives now as a lone werewolf, apart from the pack, suffering his humiliation in solitude. My chin lifts. I have no shame. I fulfilled his duty to Syd when he should have done so, fear of the Dumonts or not.

I will stand up and be the were he never was. “Grandfather.” I bow my head to him, stepping away from Piers with a soft smile, so he will know I’m not doing so for the wrong reasons. “My king, I am done running and am ready to be the wereprincess you need me to be.”

Oleksander’s face blossoms in a huge smile, his emotions showing clearly as his mask of leadership falls. He rises from his throne, coming to stand before me, huge hands cupping my cheeks as he bends and kisses my forehead.

“This means you will take a mate?” So much hope and wistful sadness in his deep voice.

I nod. “I will.”

He clasps me against him, the rumbling of his joyful words vibrating in my body. “I shall assemble all eligible males at once,” he says. I pull away, just catch him winking at Piers. Proof of their conspiracy made flesh? Anger tries to resurface, no matter my relief, as I think again of being followed, but dies. I’ve made my choice, have I not? And I am ready to make another.

Oleksander’s grasp tightens on my upper arms, kind face smiling down at me. “I have only ever wanted you to be happy, my dearest Sharlotta,” he says, emotion vibrating in his voice.
I’m far from stupid, Grandfather
, I send to him directly.
Are you and Piers working on something behind my back?
 

I am aware there are few, if any, weres of our pack worthy of you
. My grandfather’s mental voice is full of sorrow.
We are slow to convert to the new ways. And I would not wish you to mate a thug nor a mindless follower. We Moreaus are of a different breed
. He glances sideways at Piers who holds his tongue and his poise.
At least young Southway is powerful and a sorcerer of the Steam Union. And honorable, too. The weres trust him thanks to his friendship with your lost brother, Danilo
. I was deep in bond with Syd when my brother was lost, another old ache I could no longer smother.
And his involvement in our freedom. While the two of you won’t have full were children, they will still bring power and prestige to the throne in their time
.

My grandfather frowns suddenly, head lifting, sniffing. I step away from him deliberately, eyes challenging him to ask me the question forming in his eyes. He looks troubled for a moment and I know he’s finally caught Sage’s scent. To dash his fears, I turn deliberately and look Piers up and down. He blushes again, grins at me like it’s funny, though I feel his nerves perk. Is he ready for this? I’m not sure I am, but he’s my best option.

“Very well,” I say out loud. “Summon those who would offer to be my mate. But know I will only choose the very best to rule at my side.”

Oleksander chuckles as Piers’s grin fades into wonder. “Of that,” he says, “I have no doubt.” He pats my friend’s shoulder with one giant hand. “May the best man win.”

***

I escort Piers out with a slight redness to my own cheeks, knowing now where my grandfather’s mind leads him. I could do worse, and now I’ve given up on my dream of being with Sage—an impossible one I should have known better than to cultivate—I am finding my sorcerer friend’s closeness rather distracting.

I attempt to pull back and observe Piers with some dispassion as we enter the grand foyer and head for the front yard. My practical side won’t be swayed by my heart this time. I must know if he will be a good mate for me and for the werenation.

He is silent on our walk, keeping his head down, not touching me or even offering. I miss his usual banter, the sly way he winks at me with a clever grin, the brushing of his hand against mine as though by accident. I can only hope this chance at courtship won’t ruin what we have now. I couldn’t bear to think I’d lose his friendship if things didn’t work out between us.

He really is charming in his boyish sweetness, tempered by his sharp wit. Piers holds himself back from me for the first time since our friendship began. I’m grateful for his distance, despite my concern. We will both need the room to decide if the playful way we’ve chosen to engage each other can be more than just flirting and teasing. For as surely as he’s been talking with my grandfather, it must feel odd to him to have the glimmer of hope suddenly wake into pending possibility.

I will have Eva Southway to wrangle as well, should I propose mating with Piers. She’s not my first choice for a mother-in-law, the leader of the Steam Union far too harsh and cold for my liking. I’ve done some digging on his mother, out of curiosity, since the sorcerers who are our new allies have been only a shadowy presence until a few years ago. The information I’ve gleaned paints a rather grim picture of a driven and talented sorcerer letting ambition rule her. She’s won her position through calculation and manipulation, though I can hardly blame her. Had it not been for Syd, I’m certain I would have much more in common with Eva than not by now. Still, while I’ve cultivated my own chill exterior over the years, I feel hers runs to the heart, unlike her mercurial son and daughter.

If Eva sees our union as a benefit, she won’t stand in our way. Her concern over Piers’s interest in Syd brings back enough memories I am wary all over again. But as we step outside, my mental considerations are soothed as Piers finally looks over and smiles. Not his typical impish grin, but a genuine smile reaching his gray eyes, the scent of him stronger than ever as though he reaches for me with his body and mind if not his touch.

Dawn is lightening the eastern sky over the spiky evergreens as he stops and turns toward me. Silvery-blond hair hangs over one of his lean shoulders, a silken fall to his waist over the deep gray of his greatcoat, hanging open, showing the black button up he wears over his lean chest. The new light catches on the angles of his narrow face, makes his gaze transparent. I admire the almond shape of his eyes, his wide mouth, the way his jaw line carries to a strong chin. I’ve always thought Piers handsome, but this is the first time I’ve allowed myself to truly take in his physical beauty. It matters to the wolf inside me, my practical side admitting as much. I’m shallow that way, I suppose. But his depth of soul is more beautiful still, an excellent and impressive package.