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

Chapter Twenty-Nine

With the cool waters lapping around their bodies, Bek lay snuggled against Ulrik at the edge of the pond. Lazily, he traced the tribal pattern of a tattoo that snaked around her arm in a band.

“That’s my first tattoo.”

“Mmm. Tat too. Tat too. A strange word. It does not begin to describe your skin markings.” He traced the black ink as it twisted and swirled. “Do they serve a purpose? Is there some meaning you attribute to them?”

She chuckled. “That one? No. I didn’t think too much about the design. I just wanted a tattoo like my brothers. This one”—she pointed to a large red and black goth butterfly that covered the top of her right arm—“I got as a symbol of my emancipation from my god-awful family.”

Ulrik brushed his fingers over the butterfly’s deep red wings, sending shivers through her, reminding her they were still naked, his thigh between hers and pressed against her core.

Lord, Bek. The man gave you four mind-blowing orgasms. Isn’t that enough?

No. The sudden realization hit her, stealing her breath. It wasn’t enough. Her fingers curled through his chest hair as her mind stuttered away from the implication.

Shit.

“And this one?”

His raspy voice snapped her from her thoughts. He slid his fingers over her collarbone to the string of flowers inked into her skin and her nipples pebbled all over again.

“Uhm. Sunflowers. My favorite flower. My gran had sunflowers in her garden.” Bek pushed her worrying thoughts aside and focused on the conversation. “Gran didn’t approve of the life my parents chose.” Sweet, good, big-hearted Gran. “She tried so hard to get us kids to follow a different, more honest path. My brothers were a lost cause. Too hooked on that life. The quick return for no real effort. They wanted the good life and the good stuff, but like my parents, working for it the old-fashioned way wasn’t part of their agenda. They’d rather steal it or con it from someone else who had worked for it. For me, my gran was the only one who understood me.”

When her gran had died, and her sunflowers with her, Bek no longer had a reason to stay.

“And the phoenix on your shoulder?”

Bek looked away, staring out over the moonlit pond. She could make something up, give him some story to satisfy his curiosity, but that didn’t seem right. Not after he’d opened up to her about his scars. Not after the intimacy they’d shared. Not now that she… What? How far did she want to take this?

“I was dating…in a relationship…” God, how do I explain modern dating to a tenth-century knight? “I was living with my lover.”

A growl rumbled in his chest and he pulled her tighter. Is he…jealous? A thrill skipped through her.

“I’d been living with my lover for a few years. Spider—”

“His name was Spider ? Is that a common name in the future?”

Bek snorted. “His real name was Dwight, but he belonged to a gang of…outlaws, so they gave him the nickname Spider.” She followed the path of her finger drawing circles across Ulrik’s chest, twirling it in his chest hair. Anything rather than look him in the eye. “He wasn’t a good man. He often broke the law, and he did some terrible things that could have seen him locked up for a very long time.”

“Your lover was an outlaw?”

Bek flushed and halted her exploration, curling her fingers into a fist. “It’s not exactly something I’m proud of. I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Spider being one of them.”

She shifted against him, sending ripples out across the pond.

He stroked a hand across her shoulder and down her arm, rubbing gently. “We all make mistakes in life, Rebekah. Lord knows, I have made plenty in mine.”

She couldn’t bring herself to look at him. He had no idea of the mistakes she’d made or the things she’d done. She should’ve known better, chosen better. Spider was no different from the brothers, the family, she’d fled from.

How did I not see that from the beginning?

“Spider liked to use a forbidden substance,” she continued. More than use . Selling drugs had brought in a good income for his club. She’d traded her con artist, thieving family for drug dealers. In hindsight, it’d been a stupid move. “Getting caught with it in your possession is a criminal offense.”

For all that she’d moved on, turned her back on Spider, the crew and that lifestyle, her ex-lover’s betrayal still burned fiercely.

“One day, to avoid getting caught with this substance, he slipped it into my bag and claimed I was the one who’d had the stuff all along. I paid the price for his wrongdoing.” Her throat tightened and her chest burned. That he’d never paid for that, or any other crime he’d committed, and had willfully let her and others take the rap for him, made her blood boil. “They locked me up for eighteen months and he didn’t even look back when he walked away.”

Bek blinked away the unshed tears in her eyes, certain Ulrik would see them.

“Ah, baby.” He cradled her face.

She leaned into his hand. “When I got out, I was determined that I would never go back to him or that life. That, like a phoenix rising from the ashes, I would get my life back on track and make something of myself. Every day I spent in that prison, I promised myself never again would I make that mistake. Never again would I put myself in the hands of a man who’d allow someone else to suffer for something he’d done.”

Ulrik stiffened and pulled back, his hand dropping from her face. She reached for him, but he rolled away from her in a splash of water. Bek sat up, the night air suddenly cold against her skin now the warmth of his body was gone. She stared after him as he strode toward the bank and snatched up his shirt.

What the fuck?

“Hey!” She followed him, stomping through the water, coming to a halt right in front of him, naked and dripping. “What’s your problem? No, gee Rebekah, I’m sorry you got stiffed by your lover? Or, man, that sucks? What an asshole?”

He picked up her clothes and thrust them into her arms, leaving her no choice but to take them.

She gaped at him. “Surely a little sympathy is in order? It’s not like I was the one who did the wrong thing. I just have lousy taste in men.”

He stilled, a muscle ticking in his jaw. With a snarl, he shoved his arms into the sleeves. “Get dressed, Rebekah. It is late in the eve and we must get back.”

She swallowed, shoving down the hurt that had blossomed at his retreat. “Fine.”

She turned her back on him and threw her dress over her head. It clung to her wet body, but she was too angry, too stung by his rejection to give a damn. Her jeans, she rolled up into a ball, contemplating pegging them at his head. Why waste the effort?

Instead, she concentrated on getting her boots on and laced up. “Now who’s being the asshole?” she mumbled under her breath.

“Come.”

He took her by the arm and led her back down the path to the cottage, the intimacy of a few moments ago shattered. For a second, she’d considered staying in the tenth century. Imagined it wouldn’t be all that bad. Erin seemed happy. Clearly, she wasn’t going to get an invitation anytime soon. Typical, now that she’d just begun to wish for one.

They reached the cottage and Ulrik wrested open the door and hurried her inside. Neither of them had said a word since they’d left the pond, but each of Bek’s footsteps had fallen harder than the last. So what if she’d spent time in prison? Even if the coke had been hers, it would’ve been her first offense. Notwithstanding the shit her family had dragged her into when she’d been too young to know better. None of that had resulted in a record, thank God. She’d never claimed to be an angel.

Bek glared at his profile. First Spider, and now Ulrik. I’m an idiot. My man barometer is truly broken.

Ulrik released her arm. “Stay here, Rebekah.” He turned on his heel. “I need… I will take first watch.”

He stormed out of the cottage and slammed the door behind him.

Erin was on her feet. “What’s going on?”

Bek threw her jeans onto the seat. “When I first met him, they had him chained to a wall in a dungeon. Now he’s upset because he found out I’ve been in prison? For something I didn’t even do?” She clasped her hands in her hair. “Argh! Infuriating man.”

Erin came around the table and gave her a hug as Gaharet slipped out of the door after Ulrik. “Oh, honey. We’ll sort this out.”

Bek pulled away from Erin and plopped down onto a stool.

Erin patted her shoulder. “Here, let me get you something to eat. You’ve had a long day and…” She glanced at the door. “I’m sure Ulrik will cool off and you can talk it out with him.” She set a bowl of stew in front of Bek and handed her a large chunk of bread. She inclined her head to the door. “What exactly happened out there between you two?”

Bek didn’t think she could eat right now, but she nodded at Erin and gave her a half-hearted smile of thanks.

She tore at the bread, breaking it up. “I don’t get it. Everything was fine. We had sex. G ood sex, great sex. More than once. Hell, the man knows his way around a woman’s body. We were lying in the shallows, post coital bliss and all that, and he asks me about my tattoos. He wanted to know what they meant and why I’d got them. I was telling him about the phoenix on my shoulder blade—”

“A phoenix? Doesn’t he have a—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Bek waved her hands at Erin. “It’s Ulrik’s family crest. And before you say it’s kismet, or fate or something equally ridiculous, it’s not. It’s just a coincidence.”

An amused gleam entered Erin’s eyes. “A coincidence? Maybe. What made you choose a phoenix, may I ask?”

Bek sighed. There was no point keeping her shady past a secret now.

“I ended up in prison for something my partner did. I paid for his crime. Now, I’m trying to get my life back on track and put my past behind me. I got the phoenix as a reminder of that, and the promise I made to myself to never again fall for a man like Spider. To never put myself in the hands of a man who’d allow another person to take the blame for something he’d done.”

Erin’s eyes widened. “Oh, dear.”

“What? What did I say?”

Erin chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t know exactly what happened to Ulrik. Gaharet hasn’t told me the full story, but Ulrik did something that angered Comte Lothair. To keep him safe from retribution, his parents sent him away to Bretaigne. While he was gone”—Erin cringed—“Lothair imprisoned his family and had them condemned to death as punishment for Ulrik’s crime.”

Bek stared at the other woman, the food forgotten. “Are you serious?”

Erin nodded.

“Oh, bollocks .”

He’d worshipped her body more fervently than a teenager with his first ever Playboy magazine, and what had she done? Told him he’d never have a chance with her. Not intentionally, but still…

She stared down at her bowl. “I didn’t know. He never told me. When I said that, I didn’t mean him. ” She closed her eyes. Fuck. “It was all going so well, too.” She made to rise. “I should talk to him.”

Erin’s hand on her shoulder halted her. “Let Gaharet talk to him. Give Ulrik some time. He’ll figure it out once he’s cooled down.” Understanding glimmered in her eyes. “I was right. You really like him.”

“I didn’t want to,” Bek mumbled, settling back into her seat. “He’s everything I’ve avoided since…well… since I got sent to prison.”

Erin chortled. “Don’t I know that feeling.”

Bek rolled her eyes. “Been to prison, have we?”

Highly doubtful. As if a woman who’d lived a far better life than she could hope to understand.

Erin, unperturbed by her sarcasm, stared her down. “No. But Gaharet wasn’t my idea of a perfect match either. Wealthy, arrogant and used to getting his own way, I thought he was everything I loathed in a man. I busted my ass trying to find the reverse spell for the amulet and get back to the twenty-first century. Now look at me.” She raised her hands in a shrug. “I’m a werewolf. I’m mated to the man I thought I loathed and”—she rubbed her hand across her belly—“I’m carrying his—our—baby.”

She locked on Bek with a stare every bit as intense as her husband’s. Bek had to give her credit. The woman was no pushover.

“Any regrets?”

Erin chewed on her bottom lip. “No. Not really.”

Could Bek stay here? If she could patch things up with Ulrik. Give up her life in the twenty-first century, as Erin had. Not much of a sacrifice. Not like Erin.

“You were an archeologist. What’s that, like four years of study? And a decent career. And you, what? Gave it all up for him? For love?”

Erin’s expression softened, and a smile crept across her lips. “I did.” Her smile slipped, and two little frown lines appeared between her eyebrows. “I won’t lie to you and tell you it was easy. It wasn’t. It took me almost dying to change my mind. Right until the moment I made my decision, my thinking was more aligned with your reaction than you might think. All I could think about was modern conveniences and clothes and what I had achieved. What I was still to achieve in my career. All the things I would have to give up, not what I would gain.”

Erin slid onto the seat next to her. “Do I miss things? Hell, yes. I had some good friends and great colleagues. My mom and I…well…our relationship wasn’t the best.” She frowned. “The bra and knickers I’m wearing won’t last forever. I’ll miss those. And coffee—God—waking up without coffee every morning is the pits. But I have Gaharet. I can make new friends.” Her hand slipped to her belly. “And I’ll soon have my own family.”

“Yeah, but…what about your career?”

“Look around you, Rebekah. I’m living in the very thing I spent years studying. I’m seeing things firsthand. Wait until you see Gaharet’s keep, his library, and oh, my lord, his armory .”

Bek arched an eyebrow. The woman looked as though she’d give herself an orgasm just thinking about a building, some old books and a bunch of swords. Whatever floats her boat.

“Hey.” Erin held up her hands. “I’m not saying my decision would work for everyone, but it worked for me. How about you, Rebekah? What do you have to leave behind?”

Bek focused on a piece of bread, tearing pieces off it and dropping them into her stew. What did she have to leave behind? Nothing. Well, nothing she cared about losing. A crappy apartment, a criminal record, a dick of a parole officer and dead-end job at Charlie’s, avoiding his grabby hands and disgusting propositions. Nothing worth shedding a tear over.

Like Erin, she’d miss coffee. And flushing toilets and hot showers. She looked down at her boobs. Lack of bras could be a problem. Unless she got some regular support, they’d lose their lift quicker than a helium balloon on a hot day. Not a good look. But wine appeared plentiful. Happy days. And if, eventually, she ended up living in some sort of castle or keep, chances were, she’d eat better here, too. No more two-minute noodles. Even living in this little cottage didn’t look so bad. Erin was surviving here just fine.

Then there was Ulrik. She stared at the stubbornly closed door. But Ulrik had made no promises beyond sex, and now…

“You don’t have to make your decision in a hurry, Rebekah. I don’t know if Ulrik told you, but there’s no reverse spell for the amulet.”

“What?” The bread fell from her nerveless fingers.

Erin held up her hands. “Don’t panic. There could be. We’d have to make one, that’s all. To do that, we need a full coven of witches. That’s thirteen witches.” Erin gave her an apologetic smile. “Right now, we know of only one. Constance.”

So she’d been right about Constance. And about Ulrik keeping information from her. What else had she missed? What else was he keeping from her? What crime had he really committed against the count?

“As you can imagine,” said Erin, “we can’t just put out a classified ad to find witches. With the current religious climate, they won’t be shouting their presence from street corners or in the town square.”

Well, shit.

“Gaharet will help you, and so will I. If that is what you really want.” Her voice betrayed her doubt.

Erin had a point. Who threw over a hot medieval knight for a single life working in a sleazy bar? To what? Live in a flat with peeling linoleum, a druggie neighbor and a landlord that would terrify Attila the Hun? Nobody. That’s who. And she’d be a right bloody idiot if she did.

From the moment she’d laid eyes on Ulrik and heard his raspy voice, her body had been all in, even if her mind had missed the all-points bulletin. It was getting it now . When perhaps it was too late.

Bek swallowed, the memory of her words ringing in her ears.

‘Never again will I put myself in the hands of a man who’d allow someone else to suffer for something he’d done.’

Fuck. She cradled her head in her hands. She hadn’t known. Given the way he’d lost his family, it was easy to see now why he’d reacted the way he did.

‘Family is precious.’

He’d told her that. As she’d sat by the fire while he cooked the hares he’d caught. The man had saved her from the keep guard, fed her, brought her to the one person who could understand her predicament and perhaps help her and she’d hurt him. Rejected him. Stabbed him in his heart with his own dagger. She pushed away her bowl of food.

Bek, as usual, you’ve completely screwed things up.