Winter's Kiss (5 page)

When he pulled back and released her hand, she felt bereft and cold. She looked at him and his eyes opened, meeting hers. They were blue again.

He blinked slowly.

“Is your lord a vampire too?” If he were, it would explain the story about him being centuries old.

Winter spat onto the floor.

Nika looked at the dark red wet mark on the dusty wood.

Her blood.

“We all are,” he said in a distant voice and wiped his lips.

Nika frowned, trying to ignore the fact that he hadn’t swallowed her blood. For some reason, it offended her.

“The village tales are true then. Fell creatures roam our land and they have the form of man,” she said in a false light tone and then frowned again at the dark patch of blood on the floor by Winter’s booted feet.

“How is your leg?” he said with a glance at it.

“Fine,” she snapped, unable to help herself. He had spat out her blood not seconds after saying he wanted it. “I thought you were tempted by my blood?”

His eyebrows knitted together and he stared pensively at the floor. “I am, but it tastes… it is tainted. The werewolf’s saliva is changing you and the process is not yet finished. When it is—”

“I’ll be like them.”

Winter nodded and kept his face bent towards the floor. “I came as fast as I could.”

Nika studied his face, surprised by his words and wanting to see if there was truth behind them. He had? There was such pain in his eyes, and regret. He looked vulnerable as he sat with his hands in his lap, his head bent and his profile to her. Something about the air of hurt around him made her want to reach out and cover his hand with hers, to reassure him that what had happened wasn’t his fault. His shoulders heaved in a sigh.

“They killed your horse,” she whispered, feeling ridiculous and cruel for mentioning it when his eyes closed in visible pain.

When they reopened, he was looking at her. He straightened and turned to face her, their eyes meeting. Tears filled hers as she thought about everything that had
happened. Her life was over. She was becoming a werewolf and a vampire had rescued her. It was all too much and none of it made sense
even
though she knew that it was true.

She kept waiting to wake up from the nightmare. She kept waiting for Winter to tell her that it was a joke and that none of it was real. He was only joking. He wasn’t a vampire. She wasn’t turning into some kind of hellhound. Her stomach roiled and flipped, burning with acid and her tumultuous feelings. A longing to bury her head in her hands and cry until she was sick filled her but she denied it. She didn’t want to be weak. Not in front of Winter. She wanted to smile even though she was falling apart inside. The way he looked pained her, brought out her fear and shattered what little strength she had managed to retain. She wished she could smile for him, could alleviate all that sorrow in his beautiful blue eyes, but she wasn’t strong enough. A tear tracked down her cheek, another quickly following it. She let them come, let them quietly slip one after another, not sobbing, just surrendering to her feelings and the weakness that filled every inch of her, right down to her heart and soul.

Winter gave her another pained look and brushed the backs of his fingers across her cheek.

Her lips parted and a tear rolled down her cheek to her jaw.

Instinct made her lean into his touch and draw comfort from it.

He broke the silence with words that made her heart ache.

“I am only sorry I could not save either of you.”

Winter stared out of the window, half-aware of the falling night and the call it sent to his heart, and half-aware of the young woman lying on the bed behind him. He had covered her again when she had settled down and drifted away into a quiet thoughtfulness. She hadn’t protested when he had placed her coat and his cloak back over her or said a word since he had confessed his bitter disappointment at not being able to protect either her or his horse. He had hoped that none of the wolves had bitten her but her admission that the largest wolf had sunk his teeth into her had shattered it. She was lost to him, destined to follow a new master, one that could return at any moment to claim her.

His eyes scanned the darkening forest.

Would he let the man take her? Every inch of him revolted against the idea of letting another touch her, especially one as lowly as a werewolf. He reminded himself that she was a werewolf too now. The
man
that had bitten her had snatched her from him, taken her out of his reach irrevocably. It would be best for him to part ways with her as soon as possible and never think of her again. What had once been a sweet dream was now a tortured nightmare. She would never be his. The law forbade it.

Nika stirred behind him, soft breathy moans speaking of pain. Winter could sense her fear like a knife in his own heart. Her signature spoke clearly of suffering. A darker instinct told him to kill her, to drain the piteous creature of its life and leave the body here to rot. That thought twisted inside him like a poisonous snake, hissing words of violence and release, of taking her life and then taking

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vengeance on those that had shattered his elusive dream of turning her. He closed his eyes against them and the vision of bloodshed they evoked.

The night called to him. It whispered words that floated in on the chill breeze creeping through the broken window. They soothed his black heart and drew him back from the brink. He was partly to blame here. If he had reached her sooner, he could have protected her and she would have been his. If he had turned her all those months ago, none of this could have happened. She would have been his child, his lover, safe in his arms and free of such a terrifying future. If only he had been braver and had found the courage to ask his lord for permission. Hyperion would have said yes. His lord wouldn’t have seen his need to have this woman as any sign of ingratitude or disloyalty towards his bloodline.

It
was
too
late
now though.

What little chance he’d had with her was gone, slipped through his fingers like the sands of time. He couldn’t change what had happened. He would have to live with his mistake. As would Nika.

When she had realised what she was becoming, he had seen in her eyes that it petrified her. She didn’t want to become a werewolf. He didn’t want that for her either. He wanted her as a vampire.

Although there was nothing he could do to change what had happened, there was something he could do for her. He could protect her. The werewolf that had bitten her would be coming to claim her. He owed it to her to get her away from the area and free her as much as he could. Whatever it took, he would do it. He would kill the man and slay his entire pack in order to gain her freedom.

Winter opened his eyes and stared out into the night. He breathed deep, drawing air into his seldom-used lungs in
an effort to calm down. It had been centuries since he had felt the need to breathe. Something about Nika made him breathless and desperate for air.

The cool night air froze his lungs and sent waves of tranquillity washing through him.

“Winter?” Nika’s voice was a bare whisper. Fear laced it. Was she frightened of disturbing him?

“Yes?” He kept his eyes fixed on the darkness outside the shack, senses focussed on the woods in case anyone dared approach them. He wasn’t sure whether the werewolves would return so soon or whether they would wait for her transformation to be complete before attempting to claim her.

If they claimed her at all.

Instinct told him they would.

When the wolves had attacked her, Nika would have been close to the village. This didn’t strike him as a random attack. There would have been easier targets in the woods around the village and that area was outside the Validus land. They had dared to attack someone within his bloodline’s territory, knowing full well that there would be a price to pay for such an act. They had specifically wanted her and they hadn’t cared about the consequences. For some reason, she was important enough for them to risk everything.

“I have to get back to the village.”

He frowned and turned his head to the side so he could see her out of the corner of his eye. The shack was dark, making her nothing but a shadowy shape on the bed. He slid into his vampire guise and everything brightened until he could see her clearly.

“That is not possible,” he said in a low voice in case someone was listening to them. He couldn’t sense anyone within the vicinity, but werewolves could hear over great distances, much like his species.

“My father will be worried.” Her voice cracked and he sensed the tense emotions behind it. Her father wasn’t the only one worried. She was too. “What if he tries to find me and they attack him too?”

“That is not likely.” Winter turned fully to face her.

She frowned in the darkness. “Why not? They attacked me and they killed your horse. They’re hungry and it’s still like winter out there. Surely, they’ll eat again if they see the opportunity. My father could be that opportunity if he’s out there trying to find me!”

Winter sighed and leaned back against the wall behind him. How could he break this to her without shattering her already fragile mind and hold on reality?

“They will not attack your father,” he said in a calm and measured tone, weighing each word carefully. “They did not kill my horse for food… and they were not out to kill you.”

Nika shifted on the bed, leaning forwards, her eyes searching for him in the darkness. Clearly, her transformation was yet to affect her senses. He had never witnessed a human’s change into a werewolf before. How long would it take her to become one? It could be days. They couldn’t stay here that long. They would have to move soon. It was too risky to remain where the werewolves could easily find them and he needed to get back to the mansion.

“What do you mean?” she said in a quiet voice, distant and trembling.

“I believe they may have specifically targeted you. The attack does not seem random. There has not been a new werewolf in these parts for over a decade.”

Her shoulders slumped. “They wanted me? Why?”

“I do not know.” Winter moved across the room to her and sat down at the end of the bed, keeping his distance. Staring at the window, he tried to think of a way to explain his feelings on the matter and his suspicion that they had chosen her for turning. There had to be a way of telling her without panicking her or making things worse.

He reminded himself that things were only going to get worse. Once he had taken her away from the area, he would have to part ways with her. No matter how harsh it seemed, it was best for them both. He had to sever ties with her before his resolve failed and he was tempted to give in to the feelings burning deep within. She would find someone else to teach her how to be a werewolf. He couldn’t.

A voice at the back of his mind called him a bastard for planning to leave her all alone in this new world that she had entered.

A mirthless smile touched his lips. Whether it made him a bastard or not, it was his only choice. He couldn’t do anything for her now. Being with her would only tempt him into surrendering to his lingering feelings for her, and that way only led to more pain for them both. The laws were against them and the punishment severe. Remaining with Nika would only expose her to more danger, and he didn’t want that for her. He didn’t want her to fall into the hands of his lord or the Law Keepers, and if she remained with him, it would happen. They would both die.

“How is your leg?” He nodded towards it. She looked down, her golden hair falling across her face and brushing her
soft pale cheek. Her eyes were dark in the low light when she looked up at him through the strands of her hair.

“I don’t think it’s broken anymore,” she whispered and uncovered it.

His gaze followed her fingers as they skimmed up the length of the brace he had fixed around her shin. The image of her doing that to her bare leg flashed into his mind and he turned away and stood swiftly, shutting out the vision and becoming emotionless again.

In control.

He rounded the bed and carefully removed the layers of the brace to reveal her leg. She sucked in a breath when he touched it and he snatched his hand back, his eyes meeting hers in apology.

“Your hands are cold,” she said with an apologetic smile of her own. “It didn’t hurt. Honest.”

With a frown, he rubbed his hands against his thighs to warm his palms and then inspected her leg. She was right. The bone had healed, but the skin around the break was still red raw and swollen. It would be another day before it fully healed.

“Your other wounds?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Healed.”

Silence, thick and heavy.

Winter frowned down at her leg, cold stealing through him. This wasn’t good. Perhaps it wasn’t that her senses hadn’t altered yet but rather that she didn’t know how to use them, or hadn’t noticed that they had changed. Her ability to heal had certainly altered, and he suspected that her senses had too.

“What does it mean?” she said and touched her leg.

“Your transformation is progressing faster than I expected,” he whispered and didn’t give her a chance to ask the question he could sense coming. “The one who bit you may have had strong blood and lineage.”