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

Chapter Twenty-Four

The cottage, unfortunately, was not like the Tardis. A table, some bench seats, a fire pit beneath the hole in the thatched roof and a cot against the wall—it resembled Constance’s hut in the forest. Cozy, but small. Erin, Lady Erin, resplendent in a burgundy gown, plonked a mug on the table.

“Take a seat.” She fetched a wineskin and filled the mug to the brim, handing it to Bek. “I think you’re going to need this.” Erin settled herself across from her. “First up.” Erin rubbed her hands together. “I need to know all the juicy details of how you ended up here.”

Bek took a sip of wine, far richer and stronger than the mead they’d stolen from the village. Yeah, Gaharet and Erin had money. Even hidden away in this mud hut. She eyed Erin across her mug, the woman’s expression open and curious. It’d been a long time since she’d sat down with another woman just to shoot the breeze. Two women chatting and gossiping, without a real agenda. In prison, she’d had to watch her back. She hadn’t known who she could trust. With Spider back at the clubhouse, there was always some sweet butt angling to take her place.

Erin wagged a finger at her. “Don’t think for a minute you can leave anything out. There has to be a story there, and I want all the goss. When I met Gaharet, he was running around the woods starkers.”

Bek set her mug down. “Gaharet was naked when you”—she waved her hands around—“appeared out of thin air?”

Thank the Lord for small mercies that hadn’t been the case with Ulrik.

Erin jiggled her eyebrows up and down. “Oh yeah. I thought he was a ghost. Or a hallucination. Then I thought he was practicing pagan rituals. Of course, now I know he’d been running through the forest in wolf form and had shifted back.” Erin slapped her hand on the table. “Enough about me. Where did you find the amulet? I found mine on a dig site at Langeais Keep.”

Bek rolled her lips together. “Um… I… A client left it behind at my work.” No need to tell Erin everything. The woman was legit an archeologist. University educated, and now a Lady. Classy. Everything Bek wasn’t, nor would she ever be. “One minute I was standing there translating the spell, then the next thing I’m in a dungeon with a man chained to the wall. Not naked.”

“Oh.” Erin poked out her bottom lip. “How disappointing for you. The not naked bit, I mean.”

“I could see enough to rev my motors, don’t you worry.”

Erin grinned. “They’re all pretty hot, aren’t they? I mean, Gaharet, Ulrik, Aimon… Look at them. It’s like a medieval Sexiest Man Alive spread.”

She got that right. Ulrik, well… Chris Hemsworth eat your heart out. Gaharet was a walking, talking tall, dark and handsome, and Aimon had the body of a warrior and the face of an angel. All he needed was a set of wings.

“Okay. You’re in Lothair’s creepy underground cell. Ulrik’s chained up. What happened next? How did you guys get out of there?” Erin straightened in her seat. “Wait a minute. Did Ulrik break the chains?”

“No. Um.” Were they bonding? Over shared experiences?

Erin’s eagerness shone bright and pure. All right. Bek might be a bit rusty at the whole making friends thing, but she could do this.

“I didn’t believe I’d fallen through time. He insisted I had. Our arguing attracted the attention of the guards.” Bek took in a breath and expelled it in a loud huff. “Yeah, that wasn’t so good. Ulrik ended up saving me from the guards. That’s how he got the key to his shackles.”

“Mm. Sounds like Ulrik. He saved Gaharet and me, too.”

“Yeah? Well, then he threw me over his shoulder, effectively kidnapping me. At one point, he tied me to a tree.” The surprise on Erin’s face was gratifying. Maybe the woman didn’t know Ulrik as well as she thought she did. “But he did rescue me. That I’ll grant him, though it didn’t feel like it at the time.”

Erin’s eyes narrowed, then her face broke out into a beaming smile. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Bek rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. I’ve known him all of a week and a half.”

Erin smiled, but said nothing.

“And I’ve just found out he’s a werewolf. That werewolves exist.”

Did her protests sound forced? She avoided Erin’s gaze.

“You’re taking that rather well,” said Erin. “The whole werewolf thing. I needed proof. I thought Gaharet had lost his marbles.”

“It’s kind of weirding me out a little.” What about the last week or so hadn’t? She was in tenth-century France, for fuck’s sake. Bek took a long drink from her mug before setting it aside. She put her elbows on the table and leaned in. “You promised to fill me in.”

“That I did.”

Bek kept her expression neutral, sipping on her wine as she listened while Erin clued her in on all that had gone before. The count, Lothair, wanted Gaharet to turn chevaliers into werewolves to create a supernatural army. Yeah, turning humans into werewolves was a thing. Not one sanctioned every day, or something Gaharet would do for the count. Not one mentioned in my shifter romance.

Apparently, this Lothair was a piece of work. Gaharet’s refusal to turn any of Lothair’s chevaliers had pissed off the count, so Gaharet and Erin had fled Langeais. Ulrik, the guy so determined to get into her knickers, was the only reason both Gaharet and Erin were still alive. He’d sacrificed his freedom, and potentially his life, to save them.

Erin ran her hand over her rib cage and her expression turned somber. “We owe him everything.”

Bek set down her mug and rubbed her face with her hands. Ulrik as a hero? The notion hit her libido like a punch of adrenaline, boosting it into overdrive. Heat burned in her chest, a shot of antifreeze to her determination to see him as nothing more than a night of hot, hot sex she could walk away from. It made her heart long for things it shouldn’t. Like more than sex. Could Erin be right? Did she really like him?

We’re going home soon, remember? Although…

She dropped her hands and stared at Erin. Going home wasn’t the only option.

Bek took another sip of wine, forcefully tamping down on her thoughts of Ulrik. “Let me get this straight. Gaharet, Ulrik, Aimon and Kathryn are all werewolves.”

Erin leaned her elbow on the table, her chin on her hand and nodded. “Mm-hm. And me. And all Gaharet’s men.”

All Gaharet’s men? “How many of them are there?” Wait. Had Erin said—

“When I arrived here, there were only seven left.” Erin ticked them off on her fingers. “Gaharet, Ulrik, Aimon, who you’ve met. Twins Edmond and Aubert. Godfrey and, the oldest, Lance.”

Bek held up her hands. “Wait a minute. Just hold up a sec. You said you are a werewolf. How did that happen?”

There was no way Erin had been a werewolf before she came here. Having such a secret in the twenty-first century wouldn’t be so easy to hide. Not with CCTV, cell phones and social media.

“Gaharet turned me.”

And we’re back to the whole turning people into werewolves thing. Like some sort of black and white horror flick and a part-man, part-wolf with slathering jaws biting down on a screaming human. Bek shivered and drained the contents of her mug.

Erin’s hand strayed back to her rib cage. “He didn’t have a choice, Rebekah. One of Renaud’s mercenaries stabbed me. I would’ve died if he didn’t.” She rubbed at the spot on her side as though it still pained her. “Turning me saved my life.”

Erin refilled her mug. Bek didn’t stop her.

“And…who’s this Renaud guy?”

“Archeveque—archbishop—Renaud.” Erin screwed up her face. “How do I describe Renaud? Conniving, self-serving, corrupt, not above murdering people to get what he wants.”

Had she seen the news of the Catholic church lately? Although murder was a new low for a priest.

“As I said, there were only seven werewolves left when I arrived, but there used to be a hundred or more. Men, women and children. Then a werewolf betrayed them and gave Renaud information on their weaknesses. He’s been using that knowledge to hunt them. We believe his intent is to trap one. Ulrik is the first he hasn’t killed.”

“Weaknesses? Like silver.”

Ulrik’s allergy to silver was pretty intense. It was one heck of a weakness. If they could overpower him and get it close to his skin. She’d seen Ulrik’s strength, his speed and his skill in a fight. He’d disarmed that kid guard between one blink and the next. It would take an awful lot to overpower him.

“You catch on fast,” said Erin. “Silver is a weakness for werewolves. So is wolfsbane. Wolfsbane renders a werewolf unable to control their form. Shifting requires a lot of energy. If you’re constantly shifting from human to wolf, it won’t take long before you’re exhausted and vulnerable.”

Wolfsbane? Bloody hell. I am stuck in a shifter romance. Speaking of…

“What the hell was Ulrik’s problem when we first arrived? I take it Lord Gaharet is the alpha. We trekked all this way to find him, then Ulrik gets all pissed at him. Was that some kind of challenge, or something?”

Did she really want to know the answer to that? She knew what it sounded like. The only thing missing was the guttural growling of the word ‘mine’. No. That couldn’t be right. She’d not read Ulrik as that kind of guy. She rarely got it wrong. Spider being the exception. Though as hurt as she’d been when Spider had betrayed her, she hadn’t been all that surprised.

“It’s a wolf thing.”

Erin’s knowing smile had Bek fidgeting in her seat.

“Gaharet did the same thing to Ulrik when he introduced me to him.”

Before Bek could process the implications in that statement, the door opened and the two men entered. Men, and yet not only men. Werewolves. It was obvious now she knew their secret. The way they walked, prowled really, and the aura of danger about them. If Ulrik gave off bad-boy vibes, then Gaharet was all alpha. He oozed power and dominance, and though she found it difficult to look him directly in the eye, she stiffened her spine and resisted the urge to cower.

With a smile hovering on his lips, Lord Gaharet fetched two more mugs and set them on the table then poured mead from the wineskin. “Ulrik.”

Ulrik ignored the mug in Gaharet’s outstretched hand. He fixed his gaze on her, intent swirling in the depths of his eyes. Every wickedly delicious thing he wanted to do to her, with her, was reflected in those whiskey depths. Every nerve ending, every synapse, fired to life and heat spread through her body, the power of a thousand suns settling at the crux of her thighs. Her clit pounded out an urgent ‘hell, yes!’ Ulrik’s nostrils flared and a strong, musky scent filled the room.

What had Erin said? ‘ Excellent hearing, perfect eyesight and a really, really good sense of smell. ’ Bollocks. He could smell her arousal. They could, too. In the confined space of the little cottage, they couldn’t miss it. Bek shifted in her seat. Awkward.

Ulrik held out his hand to her. “Rebekah, come. I will take you to the pond to freshen up. We can talk.”

Her, Ulrik, a pond and a waterfall. There wouldn’t be much talking going on. Bek eyed his outstretched hand. In her periphery, Erin and Gaharet shared an amused glance. Did she care what they thought? Nope. Not one iota.

She extricated herself from the table and took his hand. “Sounds like a plan.”

They stepped out of the cottage and into the blessed cool air. In the time since they’d arrived, the sun had dipped from the sky and the forest was nothing but deep shadows with a hint of moonlight. Her hand clasped in his, they walked down the path to the pond.

“Rebekah,” Ulrik began.

“You’re a werewolf,” she blurted out. “So are Aimon, Kathryn, Gaharet and Erin.”

His grip tightened around her hand a little. “I am.”

“Were you…born that way, or did someone turn you, like Gaharet turned Erin?”

“I was born a werewolf.”

“Huh.”

An owl hooted, and something scurried through the underbrush. She barely missed a beat. Ulrik would’ve reacted if it posed a problem—tilted his head to the side, nostrils flaring with that uncanny stillness settling over him. He kept walking.

“Field mouse,” he said. “The owl is hunting her.”

Damn. The man was good.

They stepped from the forest and stood at the edge of the pond. The serene water glimmered with reflected moonlight. The chirp of night insects and the gentle splash from the small waterfall broke the silence and the stillness of the night forest. Beautiful. Magical. But all her awareness centered on him. The man, the warrior, the supernatural being. She had to see it with her own eyes.

She dropped her hand from his. “I want to see you. What you look like in your wolf form.”

He stiffened beside her.

“I want to see you shift.”

He rubbed his hand across his face. Would he refuse? Claim some pack law dictated he couldn’t? It wasn’t as if he turned into some monstrous half-man, half-beast. The two wolves at the pond, Kathryn and Aimon, had looked no different to real wolves, though somewhat bigger.

“Are you certain?”

For a moment, the brash, overtly sexual man she’d come to know disappeared, and a streak of vulnerability flashed across his face. Did he expect her to run from him, screaming? He should know her better than that by now.

She fisted her hands on her hips and stared him down. “Yeah. I am.”

He grinned. “You never fail to confront a challenge, do you?”

There was an element of pride in his voice. It warmed her and had her standing taller.

“Very well.” He brushed a hand across her cheek. “No matter what form I am in, know I would never hurt you, Rebekah.”

She cupped his hand against her face. “I know.”

And she did. Deep down in the marrow of her bones, the certainty of it burned. Something shifted in her chest, a loosening of her control and a letting go of fear. In between one heartbeat and the next, Bek knew exactly what she wanted. Him. All of him.

She stepped away, giving him room. He unbuckled his sword and set it aside. His tunic followed. Every other time he’d been naked before her, he had taunted her, daring her to look. Not this time. With business-like efficiency, he shucked his boots and stripped away his breeches. Naked, he stood tall, shaking out his limbs, like a competitive swimmer waiting for their cue to step up to the blocks.

Bek waited, her hands clutched in the folds of her dress to hide her nervousness. He gave her a brief nod, then in one fluid movement and a crack and pop of bones, he shifted. For barely a second, she glimpsed his face, his body, as it contorted from human to wolf. Then it was gone. He was gone. In his place, a big sandy-colored wolf.

Fuck me.

Rebekah gaped, her eyes wide and her mouth open. She took a step backward. “Holy shit, that was fast.” She raked her hands through her hair and clasped them at her neck. “One minute you were…well you , and now… Wow. Just. Wow.”

She took a hesitant step toward him. “I mean… I knew what you were going to do. What you would look like, but…” She shoved her hands against her mouth to stop her babbling and tried to get her racing heart under control. “Can you… I mean… Oh, man, this is so freaky. Can you even understand what I’m saying?”

The wolf, Ulrik, sat on his haunches and nodded his shaggy head.

“Huh.” She almost couldn’t believe her eyes. She’d been expecting it, but the reality… “This is… This is so awesome .”

Ulrik tilted his head to the side, his ears pricked forward.

“You’re huge and…magnificent.”

He chuffed at her. She curled her fingers into her palm, then uncurled them.

“Can I…” She took another step forward. “Can I touch you?”

Ulrik dropped to the ground in a classic dog sphinx pose.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Bek stepped forward. His tongue lolled out and the sides of his mouth curled up. Was that a grin?

“Are you laughing at me?”

His ears swiveled.

“Of course you are,” she muttered.

Bek approached him slowly, holding out her hand. He tilted his head to the side, his ears cocked in her direction. Her hand dangled in front of his muzzle. She’d swear he quirked an eyebrow at her. He sniffed her hand, his cool, moist nose brushing against her skin. Then his long tongue shot out and licked her.

Bek yelped and snatched her hand back, then burst out laughing.

Ulrik’s sandy-blond fur retreated as his bones shifted and reformed, all vestiges of the wolf disappearing. He unfolded himself from his crouching position until he stood before her, a man. A naked, fully aroused man.

She took in a deep breath, his musky scent filling her nostrils. Wetness soaked her panties. Any lingering thoughts of evil counts, scheming priests and the keep guard hunting them vanished, blasted from her mind as he stalked toward her. Chances were, a few hot kisses and a growl and she’d come. She’d never been so close to the edge so quickly, and without a single touch. Sex with a wolf shifter, sex with Ulrik, promised to rock her world.