Heart Of The Wolf (9 page)

Lydia knew
about love – she had been brought up as a human. And by some cruel
twist of fate, she had ended up with Taylor, even though Selena had
been the one endlessly pursuing him for nine months, trying to help
him connect with his wolf, trying to help him forget about his
wife…

“Are you all
right?”

She jumped out
of her thoughts and glanced up at Taylor, the both of them trekking
back through the woods to her house.

“You look
pissed off.”

Shit. 'Pissed
off' was never the most endearing look, was it? “I'm angry about
Stephen.” She blinked rapidly, forcing tears to come to the surface
– it wasn't
that
hard considering what had happened this
morning – and looked back at Taylor.

His entire
face softened in sympathy.

Yeah – tears
worked with him. “Taylor?” she said, bringing her voice down to
almost a whisper. One more blink, and a drop escaped down her
cheek. “I don't think I can handle the meeting tonight. Everyone
will know … everyone will stare, and I just don't feel safe…”

“That's the
safest place you'll be, with Ryan, Lawrence and myself there.”

Time for the
chin wobble…

“Hey…” He
stopped walking and gently touched her arm, and she broke into
sobs, making sure her hair fell in front of her down-turned face in
case he saw anything false in it. She brought Stephen's attack to
the forefront of her mind, remembering how it all felt and letting
the memories consume her, searching for the truth in the feelings
that would hide any scent of a lie.

He brought her
into his chest for a hug, and she shuddered in his arms, subtly
rubbing her face and tears on his front, and secretly joyous of the
fact that Lydia would be able to smell them and know she'd been
there –
there
– against him; touching him… “I can't stand
it,” she cried. “I can't … everyone will know … please, just this
once. I don't want to be around anyone. I won't have any choice
when the moon rises – I'll have to pick a male to be with – but
before then, I just want to be on my own.”

She felt his
arms stiffen against her back and knew she had him. “Please … you
know what it's like to have to … to be forced to… when you don't
want to…” No, she didn't have to finish that sentence. His embrace
automatically tightened around her, and she ignored both Lydia's
spice branded into him, and the way her lower half somersaulted at
his nearness; at his care of her, his caresses…

She didn't
want to give him up. Not yet. It wasn't fair – she'd been so close
to winning him … but that would mean she would have to go through
with it – with what Gladys had asked her to do before the moon was
full. She'd had her reservations. The potential consequences were
astronomical. But the consequences of living as she was, like
this –
some kind of empty shell that always burned for
someone she couldn't have; that would burn out into nothing before
too long, as if she had never existed in the first place… That was
so much worse. Dying unfulfilled, when she could prevent it, was
unforgivable. “Please, Taylor…”

His chin
rested on the top of her head, and she sighed. She was practically
moulded into him. They fit so perfectly well together – how could
she
not
give this a chance?

“I'll talk to
Ryan,” he finally said, his voice thick with emotion, because he
empathised, didn't he? Yes, he empathised with her turmoil. They
were
supposed
to be together, damn it. If humans could
choose, then why shouldn't she?

Her mind
wandered to the two small bottles that Gladys had given her,
complete with instructions, that sat, untouched, at the back of her
top bedside draw. It was mumbo jumbo nonsense – who the fuck
believed in 'witchcraft'? But she had nothing left to lose. And if
it was all nonsense, what was the harm in trying? Desperation
clawed at her like an unforgiving enemy … or perhaps the best
friend she'd ever have. Her heart hammered as her wolf whined in
protest.

It'll be
worth it
, she told the animal,
just you wait. Feel how
wonderful this is, just being held like this; just being understood
… it'll be worth it. It'll be worth it.

~*~

This had
better be fucking worth it,
thought Amil as he squinted around
him against the glare of the sun, then quickly chastised himself
for the negative thought. Of course Sarah was worth it, and the
single moment they'd shared – purity redefined (at least, to him) –
was more than worth preserving. If there was any chance, any chance
at all, that they could have
any
kind of future
together…

He scolded
himself for that thought too.
Just focus on the here and
now…

He had reached
Bubastis half an hour ago. He now stood in the centre of the temple
ruins that dominated the old capital of Egypt, having paid twenty
Egyptian pounds to get in, trying to ignore the curious glances
that the tourist police kept throwing at him because there was no
fucking way he looked like an archaeology student, or a
tourist.

Grabbing his
shades from the side pocket of his rucksack, he put them on to give
himself a bit more privacy – no need for anyone to see he was
glancing around searching for something; something that was just
the vague memory of an eight year old boy…

He supposed he
could have waited on this mission until tonight when the cover of
darkness would aid him, but it was the full moon and time wasn't an
ally – every second counted.

Five minutes
later, he stood at the side of the well he'd been looking for. The
thing was almost two thousand years old and ran … god knew how
deep. His main concern was that it was stable 'cause he was taking
a trip south.

“Amazingly
well preserved, isn't it?” enthused a female voice with an American
accent. “The well is usually fenced off, but they had to take the
fencing down for restructuring, so we're actually able to go near
it right now – we're lucky.”

Amil looked up
to find a young, blonde woman standing opposite him admiring the
stone work, and also admiring him when she thought he wasn't
looking. He didn't have to look – he could smell her interest, and
his own body responded to that very fact, the blunt call of mating
impossible to ignore, today of all days.

But, just
maybe, this could work in his favour.

He tampered
down the primal urge to pin her to the ground and fuck his seed
into her, and ran a tongue along the edges of his teeth to make
sure nothing was pointy in all the wrong ways. “Indeed we are. Are
you an archaeology student?” She looked like one right down to her
white socks in chunky sandals that peaked out from beneath the tied
hems of her khaki-coloured trousers.

“Yep. I'm on
an internship from Princeton. I'm Emily.” She held out her hand to
him in greeting and he took it, shaking it slowly but firmly,
letting his fang-free smile take over his face as he did so.

“A pleasure to
meet you, Emily. I'm Amil.”

A faint pink
colour blushed her lightly tanned cheeks when he said her name.
Excellent.

“Hi,” she
replied.

He couldn't
quite tell whether she was being shy or coy. Either way, he had to
admit, with some chagrin, he liked it. “You're here by
yourself?”

“I was with a
group, but we had different projects and most of the others left
last week. I go home next Wednesday. You're…” she hesitated,
“
not
an archaeology student, are you?” And this time, she
didn't hide the way her eyes travelled up and down his body. They
held just as much curiosity as attraction.

“Er ..
no.”

“So, you're
here for sight-seeing?” She looked dubious. Probably because he was
travelling light with no visible cameras. “Are you from
England?”

“Yes, to 'from
England', and 'sort of' as far as the sightseeing goes.”

Her eyebrows
rose suddenly, and she lowered her voice in what he knew was a
joke, although there was a lilt to her tone that suggested she'd
like her imaginings to be true. “Are you a spy? Like … James Bond,
or something?”

He laughed.
“What if I said, yes?”

“Would you
have to kill me?”

“I don't know
– could you offer me something in exchange for your life.”

Her smile
faltered just a touch, and she shivered at his words despite the
heat of the sun. Shit. Tridents were really fucking bad at teasing.
“That was a joke, just in case you're suddenly picturing one of the
death scenes from James Bond.”

And now she
laughed, most traces of nervousness gone. “I know,” she replied,
even though he could tell she wasn't sure. But intrigue, and
perhaps the need for some excitement, kept her there in front of
him.

He whipped his
sunglasses off so she could see his eyes, and coughed to clear his
throat, softening his tone; making sure no hint of darkness
weighted his words, genetically modified mongrel that he was… “I
could do with a little help though.”

“Spies need
help?”

“Always. It's
a shame we can't see the extent of the well's structure. I'd love
to get right down to the bottom.”

She let out a
low whistle, which looked damn cute on her in a tom-boyish sort of
way.

He pushed away
the vision of slamming his tongue between those pursed lips as some
other part of him slammed her elsewhere.
Sarah … think of
Sarah…

“The water's
polluted, or so I'm told. So, even if you don't drown, you'd still
likely get ill, and that would make bad publicity for tourism –
don't think the guards would take too kindly to it.”

“Which is why
I need to make sure they're looking the other way when I go down
there.”

“When you go—”
She gaped at him, than let out an apprehensive giggle. “No way …
you're going down there? You have ropes in that bag of yours? Scuba
gear?”

“Don't need
ropes.” He nodded to the grooves that ran all the way down the side
of the stone bricks. “Foot holes. And I can hold my breath for a
good two minutes.”

Now she was
looking at him like he was crazy.

“And when I
see you again, I'll bring you back whatever debris I can find at
the bottom for you to study.”

That certainly
caught her interest, and he thought it was because of the promise
of millennia old sediment until she smiled at him – and this time,
it was definitely coy – while rocking back and forth on her feet.
“When you see me again?”

He grinned at
her. “I'm in the area tonight – are you?”

She
nodded.

“How about I
meet you back here at the east entrance, say … seven o'clock? We
can sample the local cuisine. But what I need you to do first, is
occupy those two policemen, right there. Thirty seconds is all I
need to slip out of sight.”

“You know,
they say the Virgin Mary has appeared to travellers in this
well.”

He halted at
her change of direction. “Is that so?”

“It is.
According to myth, the Holy Family stopped here on their way
through Egypt. Some say that Jesus himself built this well.”

“That's
interesting. Do you have a point?”

“Not really,”
she shrugged. “It just kinda makes me think, since it's sacred and
all, that you should have a pure heart or something if you go down
there … you know – kinda like how Percival could find the Holy
Grail 'cause he was innocent, or how Galahad should have been the
one to protect Guinevere and not Lancelot, because of his … you
know … purity.”

“Purity.”
Oh, fate, how you like to mock me.
“You really are the
archaeology student,” he smiled. “I'll take my chances.”

“Okay… So, I
distract the police, you go down the well, and then what?”

“And then you
go your own way and pretend we never spoke.”

“Until
tonight?” Her question tilted at the end with hope.

“Right. Until
tonight.” He made his way around the well until he came up beside
her.

Emily turned
to face him and her breath snagged at whatever she saw. Hopefully
it was a good snagging, and not because his eyes were glowing.

He brushed his
fingers against hers, then took her left hand in his right. “It
feels so bloody good to meet someone else with a daring soul.”

Maybe she
did
have a daring soul. Or maybe she was lonely out here all
by herself now her friends had gone home, but her smile grew wide
and she laced her fingers through his. “Give me three minutes, then
do whatever it is you're going to do.”

“Atta girl,”
he whispered, bringing her into his chest for the briefest of
moments.

Her eyes lit
at his words – pride.

If there was
one thing he liked about living this supernatural existence, it was
the ability to connect with others in way no human would ever
understand. One look, one touch – one tiny, seemingly insignificant
response – held a thousand messages that could link you with
someone in a very deep way. This was one of those moments. It
happened between humans all the time, even strangers – especially
strangers – but humans were not perceptive enough to comprehend the
exchange. If he were on another path, he'd be thanking the stars,
because this woman who willingly walked into his arms on the day of
the full moon, was an ideal mate for a Trident. If Sarah were not
in the picture, it seemed he'd be in with a chance to win his
longevity with Emily, even if it were through a genetically forced
mating the way that most Tridents did it nowadays since the
creation of their mating formula.

But the
thought of fate working for him in this way made him feel uneasy
for once. What did the Gods want of him? Which side were they on?
Did they want him to remain a Trident, or would they grant him a
last chance at humanity?