Winter's Kiss (27 page)

Mikael stood a moment, looking stunned and at a loss for words, and then nodded.

With a heavy heart, Winter left the room, his mind full of thoughts about the upcoming fight with Willem and his pack, of Mikael keeping that promise and of Nika. He didn’t fear the battle or facing death. He had fought beside death many times, so many that they had become countless and infinite. He knew it would be difficult and there was a chance that he wouldn’t survive, but there was a greater chance that he would. If he didn’t, the werewolves here would protect Nika and kill Willem in his stead. She would be safe and that was all that mattered. If he had to give his life to achieve it, then so be it. He would face death with his head held high, proud in the knowledge that he had met his end defending her.

He closed his eyes
and
pinched the bridge of his nose as he walked down the hall. It would hurt her though, just as his leaving would. If he had been more of a man and less selfish, he would have sent her here alone and let the werewolves deal with their own kin. He wouldn’t have dragged things out, becoming more involved with her while knowing that every kiss and touch would only make it more painful for them both when he left.

And his heart longed to stay.

He touched the door to her room and leaned against the wall, his hand pressing against the wood and his senses locked on her where she slumbered. Her signature was soft and calm, warm. His unsteady heart ached to go to her, to tell her that he loved her more than anything,

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that he wished he could stay but he wasn’t strong enough. She had done so much to change his mind and make him stay, so much that it hurt sometimes just to look into her eyes and see the hope there, knowing that he would be the one to extinguish it and shatter her heart.

His hand dropped to the door handle and, before he could stop himself, he turned it and walked into the room. It was wrong of him to be here when he would leave her so soon. It was
wrong
of him but he locked the door, stripped off and slid into bed behind her anyway. He was a selfish bastard for doing this to her, for taking these last moments and then leaving. He cursed himself when he shifted to be behind her, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close to him. Her body moulded against his. Everything felt right. She belonged here in his arms. His Nika. He drew her closer, savouring the way she felt against him. So warm and soft. So perfect. He had died and gone to Heaven. He had left behind Hell, where he had to leave her and feared he would never find the strength to return.

She rolled over
and
he laid back as she curled up against his side, her breasts brushing his chest and her hand resting lightly on his pectoral. He placed his hand over hers and held it, his other arm acting as her pillow, curled around her back to hold her side.

Her leg hooked over his and she nuzzled his chest. He stared down at her in the dim light, absorbing how soft her face was with sleep and how beautiful she looked. Her honeyed waves cascaded across her cheek and fanned out across his arm that held her. Her sweet cherub lips parted with her light breathing. Her body was incredibly warm against his, heating him through wherever she touched.

He held her hand a little tighter and she sighed in her sleep. His brow furrowed and he sighed along with her, unable to
stop
watching her.

The sun was rising but he refused to sleep.

It wasn’t just because he feared he wouldn’t wake in time.

It was because he needed to make the most of having Nika in his arms in case he never saw her again. He knew in his heart that she would wait for him, no matter how long it took him to finally come back to her, and he wanted to do justice to her love for him and fulfil that hope. He wanted to come back to her, but first he needed to return to his world. Until he could find a way to be with her without fear or remorse, he wasn’t worthy of her. Until he could find a way to be with her without putting her at great risk, he had to live without her.

She sighed in her sleep again and a brief glimpse of a smile curved her lips before she frowned. He studied her face, wondering what she was dreaming and whether he was in them. He wanted to be the one who made her smile like that, as she had done earlier when he had kissed her goodbye and left her to sleep. He longed to be the one to make her laugh and make her happy, the one who could reassure her whenever she worried and protect her when she became scared.

He wanted to be her one, her love.

He wanted it with all his heart.

It no longer mattered to him that she was a werewolf and this was illegal. He loved her so much that what should have been an insurmountable obstacle had become nothing more than a molehill for them to step

over together. His kin wouldn’t understand that. Neither would hers. Only those that had known what it was to love one from a forbidden species would be able to sympathise with them, with him.

Hyperion.

There was a chance that he could convince his lord to protect him. Hyperion had fought to lower his sister’s sentence from execution to exile when the Law Keepers had discovered that she loved and lived with a powerful male witch. Hyperion himself had known forbidden love. A human female had captured his heart almost a century ago. If he could convince Hyperion to protect him, then perhaps he could return to Nika with a clear conscience and the strength to love her without fear.

She moved against him, snuggling into his side and muttering things. He stroked her hair, still watching the minute changes in her expression and listening to the gentle beat of her heart. He wished she were on his other side so he could see his marks on her throat. She had wanted them. Even when the werewolves had reacted with disgust, she had still shown them off by tying her hair up. He wished things were so simple for him. Nika didn’t know the rules. She didn’t have enough experience in the ways of their world to be afraid of breaking with convention. She wore his marks as though she was proud of them. He smiled and caressed her cheek, wondering if she would be the same when he returned. Would experience of their world change her so she began to regret their love? Would she begin to cover his marks because of the way people looked at
her?
Would her love for him fade as she learned more about their species and the atrocities both had committed?

He hoped not. He wanted her to remain youthful and headstrong, uncaring of the way people said she should

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behave and the rules people tried to teach her. A world without rules. Right now, that was where she lived. Everything was new and she was only just finding her feet, and she didn’t give a damn what people said she couldn’t do or how things should be. She had openly told him that she didn’t care about his rules and he knew that she didn’t care about anyone who frowned upon their relationship.

He remembered what she had told him in the woods.

When she changed with the moon, she wanted to run free.

Closing his eyes, he pressed a kiss to her forehead.

He hoped that she would never change.

He hoped that she would always run free.

So that when he returned, she would welcome him with open arms and a warm heart.

Winter rode through the silent frozen woods. The moon was large and orange, broken by the branches of the trees as it rose into the black velvet sky. He stared at it, his thoughts miles behind him with Nika. Leaving her had been the hardest thing he had ever had to do. It was harder than the fight he sensed was coming. He had never suffered so much in all his life. A constant desire to turn the horse about and return to her burned in his blood. He couldn’t ignore it. He could only fight it and carry on, taking step after small step away from her.

His heart felt like a lead weight in his chest, heavy and cold, pressing down on him. The cool night air did nothing to soothe him or ease his pain. It mocked him tonight, carrying the scent of blood and snow, carrying her scent.

He swore that he could smell her light fragrance and blood.

He pulled his cloak around himself and frowned. It was probably the lingering smell of her on his body. She had slept so close to him, clinging in a way that made him almost believe that she had known he was leaving.

“Nika,” he whispered on a sigh and looked back over his shoulder in the direction of the castle.

They would look after her just as he had asked them to. Even though he couldn’t bring himself to trust Mikael, he knew that he wouldn’t harm Nika. Mikael’s lord would raise her and teach her to use her abilities. There was no need for him to remain. He couldn’t teach her anything that the werewolves weren’t able to.

Winter glanced up at the sky. Night had fallen almost thirty minutes ago. Nika would be waking now. She would realise that he was gone. He closed his eyes against the image of her crying and shut it out of his mind. It had hurt them both, but it was his only choice. It didn’t matter how much he wanted to return to her, not right now. He had things that he had to do. He had to defeat Willem and ensure her safety. He had to return to his lord and his duty. However tempting it was to turn around and go back to her, he couldn’t. He couldn’t take the easy route. He had to fight to protect her. He had to find a way to be with her. He couldn’t just hide away with her, skulking in the shadows for fear of capture. It would destroy her eventually and kill their love. He wanted to be with her openly, or at least as openly as he could. He wanted to remain a loyal servant of Validus. Perhaps he wanted too much.

If forced, would he choose his duty or her?

A distant wolf howl made him pull the horse to a stop and chased away the answer to that question.

He focussed, trying to discern the distance between himself and the werewolf, thankful for the distraction from his thoughts.

Another howl cut the night air. He pinpointed the location to the border of the territory and the edge of the woods. They were less than half a mile away. When he extended his senses in that direction, he dimly sensed a group of signatures. It was too far to make them out clearly, but there was definitely more than one and they were moving towards him.

With a grin, he geed on Demeter and rode to meet his fate. The horse sped to a canter, turning with agility and grace with only the slightest shift of the reins. It was no

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wonder that his lord adored this horse. He had never ridden one so responsive, agile and obedient. Midnight would have crashed through the branches, not turned on a pinpoint to avoid them. This was a horse made for fighting. The feel of it shifting with the grace of his species stirred his blood and another wolf howl filled his mind with whispered words of violence and release. He listened to them, feeling the hunger for bloodshed beginning to creep into his veins and take control, wanting to lose himself in the violence.

His eyes switched and the world sharpened and brightened, so clear it became day and he could see the trees in infinite crisp detail. He roared as the bones of his face shifted to allow his canines to extend and his claws sharpened into points.

The wolves howled in response, a morbid symphony in the dark night.

He leapt from the horse’s back the moment he saw them in the clearing where he had fought the werewolves from the castle. Flipping forward, he unsheathed his sword in mid-air and then landed silently on the leafy floor of the woods. Not a twig snapped beneath his feet.

In less than a heartbeat, he had assessed the situation and had beheaded the first werewolf. It was little wonder they had taken so long to track Nika. They were in human form and armed for battle, each carrying a sword and two with crossbows. He flipped to the side when they turned on him and he ducked behind a tree. An arrow thudded into it a second later.

His senses said that they had come more than prepared. The arrows were made of holy wood.

Willem had come here to kill him.

Winter grinned as he watched clouds drift across the moon. The light faded from the world. His senses adjusted, keeping everything as clear as day. He didn’t have long before the fragmented clouds moved away from the moon. In the pitch dark, the werewolves’ eyesight would be poor when in human form.

In a blur of speed, he ran out from behind the tree, soundless and deadly. He leapt across the basin of earth in which the werewolves stood and swung his sword at the one on the outermost fringe of the group.

One with a crossbow.

The high sing of metal was the only sound in the forest as his blade effortlessly cut through the air and then the man’s neck. Winter landed on the other side of the basin and ducked behind another tree. The man fell lifeless to the floor and all five remaining werewolves snarled.

“Return her to me, and I will let you live,” a deep voice said.

Winter glanced around the tree. It was the man in the middle. He scanned over him and then ducked back behind the pine tree again when another arrow thudded into the trunk.

Laughter left his lips as he grinned. Willem was a fool if he thought that he would fall for such a line. He hadn’t come here to bargain for his life. He had come here to kill. He had come here to protect what was his.

“You dare laugh at me?”

The man sounded as large as he was. His build was twice the breadth of Winter’s but size wasn’t everything. Now that Winter was close, he could sense that this man wasn’t as old as he had thought. His strength would be no match for his own. It was purely a matter of skill and determination now. Both things that he had in his arsenal.