Wolf’s Redemption (The Wolves of Langeais #3)

Chapter Thirteen

The afternoon shadows were lengthening when Ulrik stopped in a small, sheltered clearing. Rebekah was tired and would be hungry, and from the slight limp in her step he guessed her boots chafed at least one of her heels. He could continue on much further. She could not. They had made good progress and had put a fair distance between them and the village, stopping only for a quick bite to eat as the sun had reached its zenith. He could risk stopping again for a few hours, to rest and to hunt for food.

The villagers would be certain to alert Lance to Rebekah’s presence. Lance would investigate. It would not take long before Lance would catch his scent, and he would be sure to follow it. Tomorrow, Ulrik would need to push them hard. Wading through creeks and avoiding muddy ground would throw Lothair and his keep guards off his trail. It would not fool Lance, or any other of his kind. Lance would track him through his scent. The cooler nights of autumn, and the heavy dew of the morning would only aid Lance, not them. What Ulrik needed was a rainstorm. He could only hope the fates, and the weather, were on his side.

He dropped the sack to the ground and rummaged through it. “We will stop here for a few hours,” he told her, grasping what he sought.

He needed to go hunt. That was best done in his other form, and he could not risk her following him. Nor did he completely trust her to be here when he returned. Her sudden change of heart, her acceptance that he was her best chance, perplexed him. It could all be for pretense. Was she waiting till he dropped his guard? Again. It would not be altogether unexpected. She had proved herself a wily one.

“Oh, thank God.” She slumped against a tree. “I swear you’re like the Energizer Bunny. You just keep going and going and going. News flash. One of us is a mere mortal, not a supremely fit chevalier. And in case you didn’t get the memo, that mere mortal is me.”

Ulrik chuckled. If only she knew. He moved behind the tree, uncoiling the rope as he went.

“I am sorry, Rebekah.”

“It’s all right. Maybe remember it for tomorrow. That’s if I can even move— Hey! What the fuck! What are you doing?” She tried to get to her feet, but he had already looped the rope around the tree and her. “Ulrik!”

He ignored her, circling the tree twice more before pulling the rope tight, but not too tight, and knotting it behind the tree beyond her reach.

He moved to crouch down in front of her. “I am sorry, but I must hunt us some food and I need to know you will be here when I return.”

She stared at him, her mouth agape and her brown eyes stormy. “You could have just asked me to stay.”

“Mm. Perhaps. But you have run from me once already, Rebekah. I will not be trusting you again so easily.”

He retrieved the wineskin of mead and dropped it into her lap, before striding from the clearing and into the trees.

“What if I need the bathroom?” she called after him.

Bath room? She wanted to bathe? Now ? He shook his head and kept walking.

“What if I need to pee?”

“Pee?”

“Pee. You know…wee. Visit the little girls’ room, void my bladder, urinate.”

Now that he understood. “Then do not drink all the mead and you should have no need to relieve yourself.” He grinned at her disgusted huff behind him. “If the urge overcomes you, cross your legs. I will not be long.”

A rock bounced harmlessly beside him in the forest. He chuckled, but did not turn back, the echo of her curses a delight to his ears. Not so long ago, he had marveled at the way Gaharet had interacted with Erin. How his alpha had found amusement in Erin’s spirit. Erin was brave and strong minded, but Rebekah was all fire. At a particularly vile curse, he chuckled again. Ulrik could not resist poking the embers.

“Keep quiet, petite cracheuse de feu. We are not the only ones in the forest.”

A sharp intake of breath, silence, then a muttered curse, much quieter this time. He suppressed the urge to laugh out loud. He would not be leaving her alone had his senses not told him there were no humans for leagues, save for her. No predators, but for him. He had not scented that wolf, unknown to him and yet so familiar, since that morning, but he would stay close all the same.

“What the hell does that even mean? Pettie crashooze de fer?” she muttered. “Humph. Go hunting then. Bring back food. I’ll just wait here. Bloody Neanderthal. Next thing I know, he’ll try to drag me about by my hair.”

Ulrik’s smile slipped, heat hitting with the force of a boulder slung from a trebuchet. He compelled himself to keep walking, the image of his hand fisted in her hair as he took her from behind almost enough to make him turn around.

With a concerted effort, he focused his attention to the task at hand. Stopping by a dense gorse shrub, he unbuckled his sword and slipped out of his boots and clothes. He had to force his breeches past his semi-erect cock, and it tested his determination to go hunting, to not turn around and stalk Rebekah instead of food.

Ulrik gritted his teeth and tucked his belongings beneath the shrub. He could not afford to waste time. He may have secured her well, but he would not underestimate her ingenuity. Ignoring his burgeoning erection, he allowed the change to flow through him. On large paws, he trotted away to hunt.

* * * *

He’d tied her to a tree . Bek fumed. That was why he’d grabbed the rope. He’d planned this all along, right from the moment they’d stood in that hut. While she’d been half naked in front of him and vulnerable. After she’d agreed to go along with him. Willingly.

Bek glared into the trees in the direction he’d departed. She’d followed him, kept pace with him in her stolen clothes, not once complaining about the rub of boots a size too big. She’d sat with him in companionable silence while they’d stopped for a break. They’d shared bread and wine, for Christ’s sake. Hadn’t that proved anything to him? That she was no longer a flight risk. That she’d decided to throw her lot in with him and hope for the best.

She tugged at the rope, a braid of woven fibers he’d tied firmly about her waist and the large tree she’d rested against. She eyed the wineskin in her lap. It would serve him right if she drank it all. As tempting as that was, she left the stopper in. Bek didn’t want to have to pee before he came back. And she needed her wits about her. At the very least, so he didn’t get the jump on her again. Not to mention whatever else was out there in the forest.

As if to confirm her concerns, a wolf howled in the distance. The mournful sound echoed before trailing off into silence. She shivered. Great. Just great . Her time in this century kept getting better and better. She’d spelled herself back in time, wound up in some kind of dungeon in medieval France, narrowly avoided being assaulted by a lecherous guard and was kidnapped by a rogue chevalier. And kissed by a rogue chevalier.

Yeah, that bit wasn’t so bad.

She shook her head, banishing the memory. Now, as she was beginning to trust him, he’d left her alone. In a freaking forest. Tied to a damn tree. Unarmed. There was every possibility that a wolf would find her and want to eat her. Fucking wonderful. Good kiss, no, great kiss aside, medieval life sucked big, hairy balls. It made her life back home seem almost tame.

And that’s saying something.

The wolf howled again, snapping Bek out of her pity party. Was it closer? She couldn’t tell. She strained her ears and listened. Nothing. No more howls, no sounds of movement amongst the trees. Was that a good or a bad sign? Did it mean the wolf had moved on or that it was sneaking up on her?

Birds twittered in the canopy of trees. That was a good thing, right? The birds going on as usual. Either way, she wasn’t about to sit here, trussed up like a Christmas turkey, and wait to be devoured. She had to get herself untied.

The tree was too wide for her to reach the knot, but perhaps she could slip free of the rope. She wiggled against the binding and got the rope as far down as her hips, but no further. Scrambling in the dirt, she got her feet beneath her, hoping the leverage would be enough. She pushed up, her back scraping against rough bark and the rope biting into her hips. It wouldn’t budge. She gritted her teeth and pushed harder. It gave another inch, but no more. Kim Kardashian might have made booty fashionable again, but fat lot of good that did her now. She slumped against the tree, the pressure of the rope easing a little.

Maybe she could get the rope over her head. She slid lower in the bindings, the rub of the rope chaffing, but she didn’t stop. She wiggled as far down as she could. This time, the rope caught on the underside of her breasts.

Shit.

The damn things had been nothing but a nuisance since she’d started wearing a training bra. Too big to run comfortably with, or to fit into many popular fashions, all they did was garner her unwanted attention. Now they were stopping her from slipping free of the rope. She eased back into a sitting position. When Ulrik got back, she was going to kill him. He’d regret ever taking her from the keep when she was through with him.

She tugged at the rope with her hands, trying to stretch it. All that did was give her rope burn on her palms.

Why did I give up his dagger so easily? She mentally gave herself a kick up the ass. She’d hidden the thing well. If she’d thought faster on her feet, she could’ve lied to him, and told him she’d ditched it along with his sword and his clothes.

But she wasn’t going to give up. She might not have a knife, but perhaps she could saw at it with a sharp rock. She scanned the surrounding dirt, searching for something suitable. Her gaze settled on a small rock, smooth but with angled edges. A piece of flint? Wasn’t that what they used to make arrowheads from? I could be so lucky. She palmed it and began to saw away. The rope was thick, braided and wrapped around her three times, and while the rock had an edge to it, it wasn’t particularly sharp. It was worth a try.

How long she sat sawing away at the rope, her hand cramping and her progress slow, Bek couldn’t be sure. She stopped, dropped the rock in her lap and stretched her fingers. This was a waste of time. Ulrik would be back long before she could cut through the first loop.

The wolf howled again. She went cold and her head snapped up. Was it closer? The sound echoed, making it difficult to tell. She searched around for a sharper rock or a weapon. Anything. Her gaze fell on a branch not far from her feet. If she could reach it…

A shadow flitted amongst the trees. Her lungs seized.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

She needed that branch. Now. She tossed the rock aside and wiggled her body down the rope, stretching her toes toward the branch. It wobbled at her touch, but she couldn’t hook it with her foot. She slunk further down, as far as her breasts would allow. If I get out of this experience alive, I’m seriously going to consider getting a breast reduction. She stretched both legs out and snagged it between the toes of her boots.

Yes!

As quickly as she could without losing her hold, she dragged the branch toward her. As soon as it was within reach of her hands, she grabbed it. Solid and thick, it had a decent weight to it. Maneuvering herself back into a sitting position, she tucked her feet up against her body and faced the forest, brandishing her makeshift weapon.

Bring it on, wolf.

The shadow moved closer. She tracked its movements as it shifted to the left, the hairs on the nape of her neck rising when it disappeared beyond her line of sight, behind the tree. It appeared again on her right, circling her, a mere shadow making not a sound—not the crack of a branch or a footfall amongst the fallen leaves. The forest held its breath along with her, aware a predator lurked nearby. No birds twittered in the forest canopy now.

Bek tightened her grip on the branch, the tip quivering as she attempted to get the shaking of her arms and her body under control. She squinted at the dark shadow slinking through the trees, trying to see more than its shape. Was it a wolf? Or something else?

It paused. She strained, listening, as beads of sweat formed on her top lip. A sound, cracking and popping, loud against the stillness, had her cringing. Had it found a smaller animal to prey on? Were those noises the poor creature’s bones crunching between strong jaws and vicious teeth? Bek wanted to close her eyes, drop the branch and block her ears, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She remained resolute, facing the danger. If she was going to die now, she would go out fighting. Spider and the consequences of his betrayal had nearly broken her, but she had survived, was still surviving. She would not cower now.

The shape grew larger, taller. Her mouth went dry and nausea rose and hovered in the back of her throat.

Come on, wolf. Show yourself. Give me a look at you. Let me see what I’m dealing with.

With a rustle of dried leaves, the shadow moved into the light.

“Argh!”

She pitched her arm back and hurled the branch. It fell short, landing at Ulrik’s feet, his torn shirt held loosely in one hand, a pair of dead hares in the other.

“Damn you, Ulrik. I thought you were a wolf. Now get over here and untie me before the real thing gets here. I heard it howling. It has to be close.”

He dropped the hare carcasses at his feet and stalked toward her. “Do not fear, Rebekah. The wolf is long gone.”

“Are you sure?” Her gaze flicked past him to the trees. The dark shadow could have been him. He could have circled the clearing to admire his handiwork. She wouldn’t put it past him. That didn’t mean they were alone out here. That the wolf, even now, wasn’t watching them, stalking them.

“I am certain.”

She considered him for a few moments. He seemed confident. He knew the forest far better than she. And he did have his sword.

“Okay,” she said. “Now bloody well hurry up and untie me so I can kick your ass. I can’t believe you tied me to a tree and left me here. I could’ve been eaten.”

Ulrik tilted his head to the side and considered her.

She stared up at him. “What are you waiting for? Untie me.”

“If you are going to kick my ass when I do, why should I not leave you as you are?”

“Are you kidding me? You can’t leave me here.”

“Oh, but I can.”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t.”

He chuckled, kneeling before her. “It is very tempting, petite cracheuse de feu.”

Even now, despite her anger, his raspy voice sent delicious shivers down her spine. That he’d most likely screamed himself hoarse in that dungeon should bother her. Arouse her sympathy, not her body. But Lord help her, she was all but melting into her knickers like a hot puddle of lava. His nostrils quivered, and a muscle ticked in his jaw.

He leaned in and brushed a hand against her cheek. Their gazes met, and for the life of her, she could not look away. A strong musky scent enveloped them.

“Why do you call me that?” She couldn’t help the breathless quality of her voice. “What does it mean?”

“ Petite cracheuse de feu? ”

She nodded.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple jerking in his throat. “It means little fire breather.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t know whether to be offended or not.

He leaned closer. He was going to kiss her again. Did she want this? Yes. Should she want this? Hell, no.

Abruptly he stood and disappeared from her line of sight, behind the tree. Bek leaned back against the rough bark and closed her eyes. Hadn’t she vowed not to let him touch her again? She’d come so close to throwing all her promises to herself out the window. She thumped her head against the tree trunk.

Shit .

She couldn’t afford to get caught up with this guy. It was a slippery slope to a hell she’d already visited. Every morning she’d woken up on the wrong side of the prison bars, the memory of Spider’s betrayal had fueled her determination to never go down that path again. Burned it into the fabric of her soul so she’d never again repeat her mistake. Or so she’d thought.