William circled her, stalking, tasting her scent, watching her watching him. “Do you like what you see?”
She tilted her head, spilling her long hair over one breast. Her gaze traveled slowly from his face down to his toes. She took a deep breath. “Yes.”
William stopped and crossed his arms on his chest. “We need to talk.”
Cerise hesitated for a second and sat on the hay. “Okay.”
He leaned against the wall. “I was born in Adrianglia. I was born as a pup. It’s a sign of a strong changeling.”
She winced.
He had to keep going. “My mother gave me up to the Adrianglian government the next day. I was sent to the special orphanage for children like me. For the first two weeks of my life, I was blind and helpless, and they didn’t think I would survive. I did, and when I turned three years old, I was transferred to Hawk’s Academy.”
She sat there, quilt draped over her knees, big eyes looking at him. He half expected her to run away screaming.
“From the time I was three until I turned sixteen, I lived in the same room. It was a bare cell with a metal bunk bed welded to the floor and bars on the windows. I shared it with another kid. I was allowed three changes of clothes, a comb, a toothbrush, and a towel. We had no toys, and reading aside from schoolwork was forbidden. My life consisted of exercise, martial training, and study. That was it.”
He stopped and looked at her to make sure she understood, afraid he would see pity. He saw none. He couldn’t read her, couldn’t tell what she was thinking. She just sat very still and looked at him.
“You don’t have to stand over there,” Cerise said, her voice soothing. “You can come sit here by me.”
William shook his head. If he sat by her, it would be all over. “I used to dream that my parents would show up and break me out of that place. When I twelve, I broke into the office, found my file, and realized where I stood. Nobody wanted me. Nobody was coming to save me. I was on my own. So I did the best I could. When I failed, I was whipped and punished by isolation. When I succeeded, they let me outside for a few minutes of freedom.
“When I was thirteen, I killed my first opponent. When I turned sixteen, I graduated from Hawk’s and the signature on my graduation papers served as enrollment into the Red Legion. I was not given a choice about joining, but if I had been, I would have chosen the military anyway. I am a killer.”
He was tired of talking, but he had to get all of it out. The memories pressed on him like a crushing weight he couldn’t drop.
“I told you I was court-martialed. I have nothing, Cerise. No land, no money, no status, no honor. I’m not normal. Being a changeling is not a disease. I will never get better. I will always be fucked-up and my children will likely be puppies. You need to tell me if you really want this. You and me. I must know. No games, no hints, no flirting. Because if you are doing this so I will fight for your family tomorrow, don’t worry. I will anyway. If you don’t really want me, I’ll fight and then I’ll leave, and you won’t hear from me again.”
William stopped. He’d fought in hundreds of skirmishes, he had done things that no sane man would, but he never remembered feeling that hollow at the end of it.
Cerise opened her mouth.
If she told him to leave, he would have to leave. He said he would and he had to do it.
“I love you,” she told him.
The words hung in the air between them.
She said yes. She loved him.
The chain he put on himself shattered. He lunged and caught her in a hug, brushing her hair off her neck, and kissed her, sweeping her off the floor. Her hands caressed his face.
“You should’ve said no,” he snarled. “Now it’s too late.”
“I don’t care, you stupid man,” she breathed. “I love you and I want you to love me back.”
She was his. His woman, his mate. He kissed her, eager for her taste, and she kissed him back, quickly, feverishly, like she couldn’t get enough.
Mine.
He buried his face in her neck, smelling her silky hair, licking her smooth skin. She tasted like honeyed wine, sweet and intoxicating under his tongue, and she made him drunk.
“I want you to stay with me,” she told him. “I want you to stay with me forever.”
Some part of him refused to believe it. He would never be this lucky. Fate didn’t reward him; it kicked him and knocked him down, grinding him under its heel. A terrible fear gripped him that somehow she would vanish, dissolve into thin air or die in his arms, and then he would be back in his house, awake, alone, and broken, because she was only a wishful dream.
“Will you, William? Will you stay with me?”
He gripped her to him, to keep her from disappearing. “Yes.”
She stroked his back, her slender fingers tracing the contours of his muscles, soothing, inviting him. She kissed his mouth, her soft lips pressing against his. Her pink tongue darted out, and she licked him, stroking him, again and again. He kissed her hard, trying to shut down the annoying warnings in his head, and dropped them down onto the hay. She squirmed under him, warm, flexible, and pliant.
Excitement flooded him. He pulled her shirt off and kissed her breast, sucking on her pink nipple, stroking her soft stomach and down, lower, to the sweet spot between her legs. She purred. He would kill to hear her make that sound again.
She was his mate. It finally sank in. She said yes, she was his, she wanted him to stay, and if she vanished, he would spent the rest of his life looking for her and he would find her again.
She wrapped her hand around his shaft and slid it up and down, spiking the need in him into an overwhelming hunger. She was wet for him, he could smell it, and the scent was driving him out of his skin.
“I love you,” he told her.
“I love you, too,” she whispered, her velvet eyes bottomless and black.
He thrust into her and she screamed.
“ON the hay,” Cerise murmured. “We did it on the itchy, smelly hay. I can’t believe it. Why did I even bring a quilt?”
He leaned over, grabbed the quilt, and pulled it over them, clenching her to him. “There.”
She pulled a blade of dried grass out of her hair. “This time in the hay. The last time we almost did it on a dirty floor. You’ve made me into some sort of hillbilly slut. “
Yeah, that’s right.
“Next time, we have to do it in bed,” she said.
“With wine and roses?” he asked.
“Maybe. I’ll settle for clean sheets.” She snuggled closer to him. William closed his eyes. He couldn’t remember ever being this happy.
“You will stay with me, right?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Even though it would mean Kaldar would be your in-law?”
“I could just kill him …”
“No, you can’t. He’s my favorite cousin.”
He read a real concern in her eyes and couldn’t resist. “He’s unmarried. No kids. Nobody to miss him.”
Her eyes widened. “William, you can’t kill my cousin.”
He laughed under his breath and she smacked him.
William gathered her closer. “I’m a wolf. You can’t chain me. But now you’re mine, my mate, my woman. Your family are my people now. Nothing they could do would drive me away. There are things I have to do, back in the Weird. I may have to leave for a time, but I will always be back.”
She caressed his face. “Things that have to do with Spider?”
He told her about the dead children and the blood on the dandelions and the note.
Cerise looked back at him, horrified. “Why? Why would he do that? They were just children. They weren’t a threat to him.”
At the time he hadn’t known why either, but now he had the benefit of the Mirror’s intelligence. “Spider’s real name and title is Sebastian Olivier Lafayette, Chevalier, Comte de Belidor. Very old Gaulish blueblood family. The bloodline started going weak around his great-grandmother’s time. They’re bleeders. Their blood doesn’t clot as it should, and with each generation it was getting worse. Spider’s father was bedridden for most of his life, and the family was desperate for a cure.