Winter's Kiss (3 page)

She wanted to thank him but couldn’t find her voice as a new wave of pain rolled through her. If he hadn’t shown up, the wolves would have killed her and eaten her, as they had eaten his horse. How was she supposed to pay him back for that? She would never be able to afford such a fine animal. She laughed internally at herself for thinking about such ridiculous things while she balanced on the knife’s edge between life and death. Soon, it wouldn’t matter that she couldn’t afford to buy him a new horse. Soon, she would be dead and his loss would have been in vain.

“Your name?” he said, more demanding this time.

“Nika,” she pushed out the word.

“Nika, my name is Winter,” he said and she looked up at him, struggling to focus on his face so she could remember it and his name. It was an unusual name. What kind of person was called Winter? “I need you to listen to me. This will hurt, but we must set your leg.”

She swallowed. More pain? Couldn’t he just let her die? She was on the
brink
of passing out as it was and then she would be in blissful dark silence for the rest of eternity. No, he had said that she wouldn’t die and it had sounded like a promise. If he believed that she would live, there was a chance that she would. If she survived, she didn’t want her leg to be set wrong. The doctors would want to
break
it again to reset it.

Nika nodded.

He removed his thick cloak and placed it at the foot of the bed. Beneath it was the chest armour she had caught glimpses of a few times. Black and shaped like muscles, it made him appear strangely naked. He tugged two black leather straps free of his cloak and handed one to her. She stared blankly at it.

“Bite down on it.” There was incredible command behind those words. He placed it into her mouth when she didn’t move and she pushed it with her tongue until it was comfortable against her teeth.

Closing her eyes so she couldn’t see the pain coming, Nika bit down hard on the leather strap.

• *
  

Winter waited a moment, studying her. She was in phenomenal pain but it would ease once he had braced her leg. He held her lower leg on either side of the break and listened to her heartbeat. The moment it became

steady, he snapped the bone of her left leg carefully into position. She whimpered and then fell silent.

He grabbed the other strap and tore a section off the skirt of her dress. Looking around, he tried to find a suitable splint. He spotted the pieces of wood that had fallen away when the wolves had broken the windows. Adding two of them to his group of makeshift medical supplies, he frowned down at her leg. He needed to clean it. The skin was broken in several places but he couldn’t tell whether they were teeth or claw marks.

Glancing at Nika, Winter realised that she had passed out. He blinked slowly. The sweet fragrance of her blood made it hard to concentrate. It called to him, stirring a deep desire to taste her and take her, to make her his. He closed his eyes, lowered his head while turning it a fraction away from her, and exhaled. He didn’t need to breathe and she was unconscious so there was no need to keep up the pretence. If he didn’t breathe, he might just be able to fix her wounds without surrendering to his hunger.

He removed his gloves and laid them down on top of his cloak. A distant howl reminded him that they weren’t alone. He frowned when he thought about Midnight. He’d had to make a choice. It had been Midnight’s life or theirs. He wouldn’t have been able to outride the wolves in the thick forest.

They were no ordinary wolves.

He was fortunate that the moon was strong tonight, strong enough to sway the wolves and control them to a degree. If it had been a normal moon, they might have changed on him and he would have had to fight them. Winter closed his eyes, listening to the call of the night and the moon. Tonight she spoke words of hunger and

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violence, beckoned him to surrender to his true
nature
just as the wolves had surrendered to theirs. He denied her request and brought his focus back to Nika. She needed him. He had to do all he could to save her. She deserved that from him at least.

Nika moaned, mumbling something unintelligible that he ignored. Looking out of the window, Winter checked the clearing outside. His senses had placed the wolves at a distance of at least a mile. He would have time. He unblocked the door, retrieved his helmet, and then walked out into the small open area in front of the wooden shack. The snow had fallen thickly here where the trees were sparse. Using his helmet as a bowl, he scooped up some of the fresh undisturbed snow off to the side of the shack and then walked back inside.

With the door barricaded again, he set about cleaning Nika’s wounds. He tore another piece of her skirt and placed it on the bed beside her. The bitter cold meant the snow in his helmet showed no sign of melting. He held it over the oil lamp, feeling the rising heat against his hand. Frowning, he checked Nika by touching her cheek with the back of his hand. She was freezing. He hadn’t even thought about how easily the chilly night air would drain the heat from her skin. It had been centuries since he’d had to care for humans or had anything to do with them.

Placing his helmet carefully at the end of the bed, he ensured that it wouldn’t tip over and spill the cool water it now held. Satisfied that it was secure, he picked up Nika’s thick winter coat and placed it over the top half of her body. He pulled the skirt of her dress down over her unbroken leg. Her feet were still exposed. He removed his gloves from their position on top of his cloak and unfolded the heavy material, laying it over her. The cloak swamped her small frame. His gaze fell to the gold cross that dangled around her neck. She had always worn it since she
had been a small girl and he had always wished to ask her about it, about whether she believed in the god it represented or whether she just liked the look of it. Many women these days did. A cross was no longer a holy relic. He didn’t mind that. If there was no faith behind it, it wouldn’t hurt him. His eyes slid across to her neck and then he dragged his gaze away. Now wasn’t the time to be contemplating her blood.

Winter pulled the cloak up close around her face, covering her neck and trying to keep as much of her
warm
as possible.

When he touched her cheek this time, he felt a little more warmth.

Taking his makeshift bowl of water and the thin strip of skirt that he had torn from her dress, he bathed her leg. The thick tights she wore hindered his progress and he again had to stop. He removed her boots and then her tights, fighting an urge to look at her underwear while he was down there. When her legs were clear, he covered her again and continued with his work. He cleaned her leg, careful not to disturb the bone, and then used the other section of skirt as a bandage. When he had half wrapped her leg, he placed the two pieces of wood down either side of her calf and then continued to bandage it. He tied the bandage off and then took up the leather straps he had removed from his cloak and fastened them around her leg as tightly as possible. It would have to do for now. His medical experience was limited. If he broke a bone, he normally snapped it back into place and it would heal quickly, causing him little pain.

Winter covered her leg and carefully worked his way around her body, cleaning each wound he found and taking in the mess the wolves had made of her. If he had arrived any later, he might have lost her. He stared at her legs. He still might lose her. If they were bite marks and he hadn’t
cleaned out all of the saliva, she would become like her attackers. The thought of that turned his stomach. Black anger darkened his heart.

A birdsong drifted in through the broken windows, heralding the coming dawn. The melody didn’t soothe him in the slightest. He stared at Nika’s leg with vengeance in mind. The wolves would pay either way. They would pay for killing Midnight. They would pay for hurting Nika.

They would pay for taking what was his.

The sunrise drove the call of the night from his mind and lured him to sleep. He checked Nika over one last time, battling his need to rest, and then went to the darkest corner he could find. Winter removed his sword, leaned against the wall, and used his senses to pinpoint the sunrise. Assured that the corner would be safe from the sun, he settled down. He tried to stay awake and alert, in case the wolves came back, but it was impossible. Taking hold of his sword, he held it close to his chest in both hands, telling himself that if the wolves came, he would sense them and wake. He leaned back into the corner of the walls behind him, his head resting against them, and looked at Nika.

His eyelids dropped and then opened again, dropped and opened.

Each time they did, he looked at Nika, checking her. Sleep finally claimed him.

He had done all he could for her.

Now it was a matter of waiting.

Nika stopped in front of the mansion, a short distance from the place where she knew she would find him. She took a deep breath. There was no reason to be nervous. She had walked past him countless times. In the winter, every morning and evening had seen her walk past him when she had been on her way to or from school. Tonight was nothing special. She had been away from the area for a few weeks and she’d had a few drinks before leaving work so her tongue was a little loose and her bravado was up, but that didn’t mean that she was going to do anything. She would walk calmly by and steal a glance, the same as she always did, as though she had never been away.

And he wouldn’t look at her, just as he never did.

The weather was bitter and inhospitable, the wind stealing all the heat from her cheeks and leaving them numb. Light snow whipped around and stung her face. She
pulled
the collar of her black
winter
coat up and tugged the sleeves down over her gloves, trying to eliminate any gaps where the wind could sneak in. The full moon shone behind the clouds, almost visible through their thin fluffy bodies. She had seen it a while back as it had been rising, fat and deep orange. She had taken a moment to stop on the narrow country road and watch it. It was a long walk from the nearest train stop to her village, but never once had she thought about calling her father for a lift. She liked the walk. She liked to pass the mansion without hearing her father’s terrifying tales of its occupants.

She liked to see the man.

Stamping her feet to get some life back into them, Nika sniffled and sighed. Her breath turned to white fog and drifted away. She started walking again, ready for her glimpse of the man and eager to get home where it would
be warm.

The men slowly came into view. There were two of them as usual. Her heart skipped a beat and pounded a little harder. Would one of them be her man?

She was going to walk straight past and just sneak a glance at him, but some part of her had a different idea. When she had passed him and seen his beautiful dark eyes, she ground to a halt. He hadn’t looked at her again. She frowned, turned on her heel, and walked back to him. Standing opposite him, she stared up at his face. Neither man moved. They stood frozen to the spot, the tall blade-tipped staffs held resolutely at their sides and the large black wrought iron gate standing behind them.

He blinked. When his eyes opened, he still had them fixed on a spot in the distance over her head.

“What’s your name?” she said. The remaining trace of alcohol in her veins made her brave.

Nothing.

The wind howled through the gate and she frowned when it battered her coat and dress, but didn’t move the guards’ thick midnight black cloaks at all. Their black chest armour was visible on the side they held the weapon. She had never seen anything like it. It fascinated her. Moulded to mimic muscles, it would have been a fine body if it were real flesh and blood. The kind of male body that she had seen in magazines.

“Do you do this every night?” She tried again.

Nothing.

“Can you even speak?”

Nothing.

“Are you blind? Is that why you don’t look at me?” She waved her hand in front of his face.

There wasn’t the slightest reaction. He didn’t even blink.

Losing her patience, she huffed and frowned at him.

“The history of our village is written and in the books it’s said that a man moved here centuries ago, a man with purple eyes and a penchant for bloody murder, and that he’s lived here ever since. The tale goes that he feasts on the blood of virgins to keep himself young and that those who serve him are dead men walking.”

No reaction.

Nika stood there a moment longer, wondering what she could possibly say that would draw a reaction from him. He faltered in her vision, distorting along with the other guard and the mansion behind them. The steady drumming in her chest became a staccato rhythm and her eyes widened while she watched the whole world shift before her eyes.

One moment the guard stood before her and the next a different man. This one sent a chill tumbling down her spine and spreading to her fingertips. His rough-hewn features gave him an air of brutality. Dishevelled black wiry hair tufted up, streaked with silver by his temples, drawing her gaze to his slightly pointed ears. A thick scar cut across one cheek, tugging the corner of his lips

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