Chapter 7

“I was orphaned as a child. Raised by witch,” she whispered. “Near Fulkenstein, farther down the valley from here.”

Damien shook his head, trying to gather his scattered wits. He lay sprawled over her, crushing her legs against her body.

Carefully, he pulled out his cock from the heat of her tightest passage and rolled to his back. “A cloth,” he rasped.

When one appeared in his hand, he rolled to his side and began to gently bathe Voletta. Her legs had eased down to the bed, but her hands fluttered as though she wanted to ask him for the linen. He pushed her hands away and continued.

The least he could do was give her easeandclean her after he’d taken her so harshly.

A virgin yesterday, and already he’d forced her past her maidenly inhibitions. This act should have been months in the preparations. He should have wooed her, teased her, prepared her gently. Instead, he’d commanded, taken.

His hands shook as he finished his task. Then he requested a clean cloth to take care of his cock.

“Did you know you weren’t human?” he asked quietly, hoping she’d continue the story so he could learn another secret he might use to hold her here.

She turned away from him, rolling to her side. “I never quite fit in,” she said in an eerily calm voice. “I thought it was because I was raised by Hilde and because my parents had come across the border from France. I looked different from everyone else. I spoke with an accent. Even after I’d learned their manner of speech, I still felt…outside.”

“When did you find out?”

“At the time of my first menses. I fell asleep that first night on my pallet but woke up miles from home, naked in the woods. When I returned to the hut, Hilde explained what had happened. That I’d transformed and run like a wild creature into the forest.”

“She wasn’t frightened of you?”

“She’d always known. My mother warned her before she disappeared.”

“She vanished?”

“Hilde suspected she and my father were trapped. Killed by poachers.”

“How did you come here?”

She turned back to him, a sad smile on her face. “After Hilde died, I burned her hut and entered the forest. It’s the only place I belong.”

He cupped her face, smoothing his thumb over her lush lower lip. “You can belong here. With me.”

“Inside these walls?” She shook her head. “I’ll wither inside.” Her lip trembled beneath his thumb.

Time stood still for Damien.

Already he missed her smiles and the funny things she said. Missed the innocence that had curved her lips.

He rolled over her, stretched out on top of her, and then bent down to kiss her mouth.

She turned her face away.

He didn’t force her. Instead, he trailed his lips along her jaw andthen worked his way lower, feeding the passion he knew was inside her, pausing at her breasts to suckle until her breaths shortened and her belly quivered.

He nudged apart her legs, and she opened them willingly. He settled between them, content for now to feast on her skin as he worked his way down her body, determined to taste every inch of her.

His hand plumped up a small breast while his tongue followed the sweet curve beneath it. Soft as a ripe peach, he’d never forget her flavor, never forget the scrape of her nipple across his tongue. When he sucked it into his mouth, she mewled and, at last, clawed at his back.

Damien smiled around her breast and bit her, nipping her playfully as he moved lower, sucking her skin, leaving dark love bites on her belly and lower abdomen.

When at last he hovered above her feminine mound, he breathed in her scent and lapped her sweet, musky flavor into his mouth, loving her with his tongue and lips while she moved restlessly beneath him, her lips lifting into his kisses.

When she came, sighing softly, her fingers tightening in his hair, he kissed her inner thighs and moved up to hold her without taking his own pleasure.

As she drifted downward, she snuggled her face against his chest. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you,” she said, her voice breaking.

“I know.”

“I want to hate you. Anger would be easier.” She sighed. “I wish you hadn’t made me love you.”

He lay frozen beside her, squeezing his eyes shut. “Go to sleep, love.”

She nodded, her cheek sliding along his skin.

Long after her breaths deepened and the candles burned low, he held her, not wanting to miss a single moment with her.

The next morning, the table stood once again at the end of the bed, laden with steaming silver plates of meat. Voletta realized she was starving. As she speared slices of beef and roast pork with her fork, her heart felt lighter than it had the night before.

The reason was obvious. She was in love. But the man who’d managed to slip into her heart was nowhere around. She picked at her food long after she’d satisfied her appetite, half hoping for him to appear.

This morning, the thought of an eternity spent with Damien wasn’t quite so dark, not nearly as frightening. Panic didn’t make her heart beat wildly; her breaths didn’t catch in her chest.

If she had to give up her freedom, would it be such a terrible thing to spend her days with him? Her nights she knew would be wondrous.

Even her anger at his high-handed insistence waned. She could empathize with him. He’d been alone and lonely for so long, and she knew he cared about her. Perhaps that would be enough.

Setting down her fork, she covered the dishes and dressed in a fresh gown, thanking the servants who hovered around her out of sight. Then she left the room, trailing a finger along the walls and down the staircase, leaving the castle for the misty morning that awaited her outside.

Sunshine was something she’d miss. She guessed the constant mist was just one more punishment heaped upon Damien. Did he even remember how it felt to have sunlight warm his skin?

The bailey was empty, swept clean of leaves, any grass that might have crept between the cobblestones, plucked to leave a pristine path to the gate. The portcullis stood open, and she followed the sounds of a horse’s hooves pounding in the distance.

The sight that greeted her stole her breath. Seated on a magnificent black horse, Damien rode like the wind, his hard-edged face set, his jaw clamped tight, the expression on his face remote.

Man and horse flowed together. A magnificent sight—both so dark and powerful.

He caught sight of her and urged his horse away from the path worn in thegrass beside the curtain wall toward her. He pulled back on his reins, halting in front of her.

He stared down at her, his gaze sweeping her from head to toe, his expression giving away none of his thoughts.

A chill filled her. Something about him seemed different, removed. The look on his face was the same he’d worn as he’d approached when she’d been tied to the post.

Had yesterday and last night meant nothing to him? Was he not as changed as she was?

After a long moment, he extended his hand and unhooked his foot from his stirrup. She placed her slippered foot atop his and let him pull her up in front of him, glad to be close to him again.

He gave a gentle kick to the side of his horse, and they started out, heading down the path—away from the keep.

“Are you feeling well this morning?” she asked, feeling nervous and unsure how to open a conversation with him.

“I am. Did you sleep well?” he asked politely.

Sitting crossways on the saddle in front of him, her unease grew at their stilted words. Yesterday, they’d teased each other. She’d even have settled for angry words, but the distance seemed to stretch between them despite the fact her hip rode the juncture of his thighs.

Could he already be bored with her?

As they neared the iron gate, her heart tripped, thudding dully in her chest. “Why are we here?” she asked, looking up to meet his gaze.

His black eyes gave away nothing of his thoughts. He halted in front of the gate and dismounted, then reached up to grip her waist and set her on the ground.

Her legs trembled, and she held his arms for a moment to steady herself. “What’s wrong? Why have we returned here?” she asked again.

He held out his hand in front of him. “Voletta’s fur,” he said.

The red pelt shimmered into existence, tightly rolled and tied with a leather cord. Then he held it out to her.

She understood now. He was saying goodbye. Giving her back her fox’s fur and her freedom.

She opened her mouth to speak but didn’t know what to say. So, she stood silent as he transferred the fur to her hand and leaned down to give her a chaste kiss on the lips.

A final sweeping glance rested on her hair, met her eyes for a charged moment, and then he turned on his heel, grabbed his horse’s reins, and walked away without looking back.

She stared after him, hoping he’d look back and give her a hint of what he felt for her because she wasn’t sure now.

He never looked back. Her gaze dropped to the rolled-up fur in her hand, and she turned to the gate. She puts her hands against it and pushed.

It opened easily. Beyond it stretched the long, rutted path down the mountain with wild forest on either side. The fog hid all but the post, the ropes that had bound her still circling its base.

All she had to do was tear off her clothes, settle the fur around her shoulders, and she could run free again.

And yet, somehow, the thought didn’t incite elation in her heart. She glanced over her shoulder, her gaze clinging to Damien’s tall frame growing smaller in the distance as he approached the wall surrounding the keep.

He walked stiff and straight, as though holding himself rigid. Was he tempted to turn and hurry back to her? Did he want to beg her to stay?

Because she would—if only he’d ask.

She drew a deep sharp breath, knowing, in that moment, that he loved her. Truly, deeply.

He hadn’t wanted to cloud her choice by letting her see his despair because she would have been moved by it.

Voletta closed her eyes and said a prayer, hoping she was right. She bent toward the ground and set her fur upon the path, then closed the gate.

The thing that had set her apart from others wouldn’t come between her and Damien. Not ever. She’d gladly lose her freedom to roam so long as she could share her days with him. She’d wear her human skin so long as his hands were the ones to roam her body.

Turning, she saw that he approached the portcullis and would soon disappear from sight. She picked up the hem of her gown and ran.

Damien heard the sounds of footsteps running up the hill behind him. His heart leaped, but he was afraid to look back. He slowed his steps, dropped his horse’s reins, and waited.

When Voletta’s arms came around his waist, his knees nearly buckled.

They stood for a long moment, her with her arms around his waist, her face pressed to his back as she sobbed softly—him with tears of joy pricking his eyes.

He closed his eyes for a moment, fighting for composure, then turned within her arms to cup her sweet face.

Her hand reached up, and a finger traced the track of his tear. Her eyes held a glistening wonder. “You love me, don’t you?”

He didn’t trust his voice and nodded.

A smile tipped the corners of her lips. “I knew it.”

He cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you go?” he asked, his throat tight.

“I discovered freedom isn’t what I want most in this world.”

“What do you want?” he said hoarsely. “I’ll give it to you.”

A warm smile curved her mouth. “You already have.” Then standing on tip-toe, she reached up and kissed him.

A sudden wind whipped up around them as they held each other close. Tendrils of fog began to dissipate, blending back and forth before they disappeared. Sunlight broke through the mist.

Damien turned his face upward and felt the warmth on his skin and thought he might have heard the flutter of wings in the distance. “Yes, Gabriel,” he whispered. “I have learned my lesson.”

“What’s happening?” she asked.

“I think I’ve been paroled,” he said smiling down at her.

His horse nickered nearby, reminding him he needed tending. “Take my horse,” he said aloud.

Footsteps shuffled behind him, and he turned to see a man standing behind him, his face beaming. “Yes, milord. Shall I give him a rubdown?”

Damien stared at the man. Had his reprieve earned his retainers theirs as well? “You’ve been here all along?”

The man’s grin stretched wide, revealing a gap-toothed smile. “We’re all glad you found your true love, sir.”

Voletta tugged his hand. “They’re not ghosts anymore?” she hissed. “Does that mean they’ve been here all along?” Her cheeks grew rosy, and a fierce scowl drew her dark brows together.

“Beg yer pardon, ma’am, but I promise we didn’t see much.”

The man’s broad smile did little to ease Voletta’s embarrassment. She groaned beside Damien.

Damien didn’t want to meet the staff just yet. He couldn’t wait to discover if he was truly free. He grabbed Voletta’s hand and walked down the manicured trail toward the iron gate.

He paused in front of it, holding his breath as he pushed against it. The gate swung wide. The path was clear of any cloying mist, and he could see far beyond the post.

Excitement filled him as, hand-in-hand, they walked outside the curtain wall. “Where would you like to go?” he asked, staring around him at the lush green forest.

Voletta squeezed his hand, laughing softly. “How about we pay a visit to the village at the bottom of the mountain? I think I would like to introduce you to two gentlemen I know. I think you will become fast friends.”