Stories for Lovers, page 14
“Prophecies can be interpreted many different ways, my lady. Perhaps ‘babe in the woods’ doesn’t mean an actual infant but an innocent.”
“Ahhh…” Eydis slid her lips back from her teeth in a broad smile. “High time, too, if you ask me. The pack’s getting restless. But if we’re to be ruled by a male pair, what of offspring? If there’s no heir, the nobles will fight for the honor, and we cannot afford any more infighting.” Especially not with the like of Lady Isibel lurking about. Too shrewd to fight directly, that cunning female would sit idly by while the males battled it out, and then quietly dispatch the winner. “While Erik may not be the sharpest sword in the scabbard, I shudder to think of Isibel or Ragnar assuming power.”
Jarl nodded. “To our advantage, our people believe the words of our ancestors unquestionably, and few will openly challenge a prophecy that states that Erik will be lord until his death of natural causes—at a very ripe old age.”
Eydis chuckled. So the shrewd man shouted the last part on purpose, ensuring any curious ears fully understood. As long as he backed her nephew’s claim, he could yell about prophecies to the rafters.
“All will go according to plan,” Jarl continued, in a more conversational tone. “I have seen that Erik will join with this villager, and under their joint leadership, our clan will grow stronger. And you needn’t worry about offspring, for the child they’ll raise together will be our saving grace, being both human and of the forest folk, and bring peace between our two peoples.”
Too many pack intrigues left Eydis wary. “I know you, you sly old man. You only volunteer information if you seek gain. What exactly do you want of me?”
“It’s not much, really. Just a simple matter…”
“Out with it!”
“Well, my lady, your powers of persuasion are needed to convince your nephew to give the human a chance, for only if there’s more between them than merely a physical attraction can the outsider truly become one of us.”
She understood completely.
Chapter Three
Eydis found Erik on the tallest parapet, the place he’d always gone to hide and lick his wounds, among other things, whilst a cub. She’d nursed him through broken bones on several occasions, for falling off while “scratching an itch,” something Erik always attributed to fleas. The proud mother of three male cubs, she knew what young males got up to in secluded, out-of-the-way places alone. Thankfully, that wasn’t happening now. “Sulking?” she asked.
“No,” Erik grumbled. He sat on the cool stone wall with hunched shoulders, knees pressed tightly to his chest, pitching off acorns.
She gathered her skirts and lowered herself to Erik’s side. The night held a bit of the chill of oncoming winter, and she wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders, a human affectation. Were she truly cold, she’d conjure a nice coat of warm fur without turning fully into wolf form, an ability that required lots of practice. An ability she, as the pack’s alpha female, wasn’t above showing off on occasion, if only to remind underlings of her strength and position within the pack.
“Are you worried for the child? You needn’t be,” she murmured, breath clouding before her face. “The traders bring us half-breeds regularly, Erik. The den is quite full of them. We simply didn’t have to reimburse them for this one.”
“It’s not that and you know it!” Erik snapped, literally, teeth clashing together in his elongated mouth.
An equally powerful alpha, Erik shouldn’t have been fighting to maintain human form, no matter how emotional he grew. Whatever had gotten her nephew so agitated as to lose control? Eydis tried to keep satisfaction from her voice. “Oh? And what else could bring you out here tonight, then?”
The man who’d been named pack leader upon his father’s death, and whom Eydis had faithfully served as regent until he grew of age, reminded her of the whiny cub he’d once been. “I’ve waited forever! All my den mates have long since been joined. The babe of prophecy should have arrived years ago. And been human! The prophecy must be wrong.” He poked out his bottom lip. “I don’t care to wait another eighteen summers.”
“Well, maybe next time,” she said, patting his arm. She knew her brother’s son very well, Erik being so very much like his father. All she needed to do was say the words, “The human is your mate,” and her nephew would suddenly change his tune and most likely flee into the forest with his tail tucked firmly between his legs. While he may have wanted someone with whom to share his life and the responsibility of ruling, having that someone picked out for him by another, or in this case a manuscript more ancient than Old Jarl, wouldn’t sit well. Eventually he’d rebel.
Since her nephew was undeniably an alpha male, clan lord, and head of the family, Eydis couldn’t pick his mate like she could for a beta like Ragnar, regardless of human customs that stated only after being mated could a youth fully join society. But if she bodily shielded the human, screaming, “Don’t you dare come any closer!” Erik would waste no time in devising a plan (several, since the first three were destined for failure, if past evidence held true) to get him. “Did you happen to see the human who brought the child?” She kept her tones light, as though merely discussing the weather. “Rather fetching, wouldn’t you say? In a mortal, only-has-one-form kind of way.”
“Yes,” Erik replied, just a bit of surliness bleeding away.
Good, good. Must take this slow. “And, if I’m not mistaken, he appeared quite impressed by you, too.”
Erik’s eyes left whatever they’d been studying to focus on Eydis. “Really?” His muzzle retreated, leaving his face fully human-looking again.
What had gone wrong in Erik’s mother’s pregnancy to produce so dim a candle as Erik could be at times? “One form? Human? Knows human ways?” By the great mother wolf! Rulers were only as good as their advisors and inner circle, and everyone knew that the Alpha Bitch supplied the true power behind the throne. I hope this human has enough sense to be the Alpha Bitch. Someone’s got to be the brains of this outfit.
“Yes, really. In fact,” she leaned in to whisper into his ear, “being that you’re the forest lord, I think it appropriate that you get to know this visitor. To make him feel welcome, of course.”
She added the words she trusted to pique Erik’s curiosity like none other. “I mean, he has no close kin after being outcast. I think you should offer to arrange a match. He is of age. When the first snows fall, Tomas will be of age also and will be looking for a male to share his bed.”
Erik’s jaw clenched and a vein protruded from his forehead, confirming Jarl’s claim that indeed a joining of destined mates would soon take place. Interesting.
Eydis decided to test the theory. “Tomas is very handsome, don’t you think? I wonder what our village lad will think of him. They’re nearly the same age, and I believe they’d be such a lovely couple.” She faked a dreamy smile, observing Erik from the corner of her eye.
The vein throbbed, and Erik’s breathing deepened.
“And his mating will raise Tomas in the ranks. His family will gain position.”
Erik said not a word, probably due to the wolf’s snout he now wore—a full snout this time.
Precisely the response she’d hoped for. “I believe I’ll check on our guest before retiring. He’s in the guest quarters, I’m told. That’s the second floor guest quarters, third room on the left. You know, the door with the big brass knocker.” Her nephew now wore a stern visage. Had she pushed him too far? She pressed her lips against Erik’s furry cheek and rose, turning quickly before he saw her triumphant smile. If Erik was half the wolf she thought him to be, it wouldn’t be long until the castle filled with passionate howls late in the night. And this time they wouldn’t be coming from Lady Isibel’s quarters.
Erik located the human’s room with little trouble. A huge placard on the door read, “Human inside. Alone. Naked,” in his aunt’s distinctively flowery script. Led by his mating instincts, Erik stepped inside.
The human in question sprawled across the bed, wrapped in a warm robe. Yes, Aunt Eydis had exquisite taste in handsome men. The human pleased the eye quite nicely, and the nose, too, now that he no longer clutched a soiled baby. Most interesting of all were his fair hair and complexion, so different from most of the forest folk’s.
For years, Erik had eagerly awaited each and every golden-haired arrival, looking for the babe of prophecy. He’d stood idly by, watching full-grown human males being claimed by another or sent to the highland tribes to seek a mate there. Erik and disappointment were old acquaintances. He’d reached manhood five summers ago. Past time to take a mate.
Thick lashes, burnished bronze by the candle flames’ glow, parted, and eyes the color of summer bluebells gazed up at Erik. “You really are the forest lord.” When the stranger sat up, the robe slipped from one pale shoulder. Certain parts of Erik noticed more than others. For instance, his left elbow didn’t respond at all. His cock, however, did. Immediately and decisively.
Erik fought down a moment of panic. Forest lords were cool and sophisticated at all times, like his father and grandfather before him. They didn’t stammer like a cub that’d just left the security of the den for the grownups’ table. “In the flesh, but call me Erik, please,” he managed to say through a mouthful of drool. His too-heavy tongue didn’t seem to want to move at his command, like the time Eydis had spilled laudanum on his fur and he’d foolishly licked it off.
“Erik,” the naked stranger said, the “r” rolling around his tongue before falling off. Erik shivered at how delicious that one simple name sounded coming from the villager’s lips. “I’m Galen Olaf…” The blond vision shook his head, curls cascading around his face. “I guess I’m Olaf-kin no more.” Sorrow clouded those beautiful blue eyes.
Erik waited, but no more information followed. More! He wanted more! Like where the guy was from, what he was doing here, and if he was a moaner or a screamer. Erik leaned against the mantel, managing a quick save when he nearly missed with his elbow. “I meant to do that,” he said, clinging to the carved wooden shelf.
Galen gave him a disbelieving “if you say so” face.
Erik scrutinized his guest by the fire’s glow. Nice. Very nice, indeed. But why wasn’t he attacking, wresting Erik to the bed and doing all sorts of wicked things? Oh, yes. Human. Different rules. Erik’s people were more of the “mate first, talk later” kind. Humans were more reticent. How did they manage to find suitable mates when they didn’t test out a few for comparison’s sake? Well, there were Ragnar’s conquests. He always found the easy ones.
The man now reclining on the bed with his heart pounding like a frightened rabbit didn’t appear easy at all. Perhaps a bit of conversation might help. “Tell me, Galen, what’s the real reason you brought me that baby?”
The handsome villager bolted upright, robe pooling around his waist. Smooth skin, tanned by the sun on arms and face, lured Erik’s tongue for a taste. That is until…”Th…the…baby!” the man yelled, “he… he… he turned into a wolf!” Those intriguing eyes grew wider than trenchers.
Uh-oh, here we go again; sheltered lowlander wakes up and smells the spiced ale. Outside the village boundaries existed a great big world, and not all her inhabitants fully human. Quite frankly, the vast majority were not. If humans truly understood their minority, they’d probably all die of fright. Easing new clan members into this reality required delicacy and finesse, a lesson learned the hard way long ago. Humans who ran screaming from the castle attracted things that liked to give chase. The more they were chased, the more the humans screamed and ran—a vicious, time-consuming cycle. After about the tenth such incident, the elders assembled and devised an initiation protocol: lying through their teeth, or plying newcomers with heavy drink before breaking the news.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Erik said, attempting to appear casual. He toyed with a figurine upon the mantel—a figurine of a wolf cub, romping with its human-form sibling. Erik shot a look to see if Galen noticed, then pushed the trinket behind an earthenware vase. To the uninitiated, a wolf mouth fastened to a human-looking throat might not appear a playful gesture.
“Bu… but… I saw it! I handed Einar to the lady, and she growled, and he… he… he turned into a bloody wolf!”
Erik forced a laugh. “A wolf, you say? How absurd. Tell me, friend, exactly how much wine did you consume tonight?”
Disbelieving eyes skewered Erik. Ah, so this human wasn’t the gullible type that some of his predecessors had been. Good. Erik’s wolf nature did love a challenge.
“I’m telling you, your aunt turned Einar into a wolf!” Galen shouted.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. I’m going to have a word with Lady Isibel about giving our guests strong spirits. A wolf indeed! Ha!”
“Bu… but…” Erik’s guest appeared to be wavering. “He was a babe one click, and the next…”
“… and the next he lay in my dear auntie’s arms, swaddled in her fur shawl.”
“A shawl? I didn’t see any fur shawl.” Galen’s glared through slitted eyelids, taking on a certain wolfish quality, unknowingly in keeping with his surroundings.
Erik hadn’t earned the title “stubborn oaf” from his aunt for nothing. “You just said that you saw the child wrapped in wolf’s fur, did you not?”
“Wolf’s fur?” The blond sounded doubtful, not as sure as before.
“Yes, wolf’s fur. It’s not like we’re lacking for the creatures.”
“Wolf fur.” Ah, now the man was trying to convince himself. Good.
“Yes, wolf fur.” Erik regarded Galen with a critical gaze. “You don’t actually believe that a child can turn into a wolf, do you?” Erik backed up a step, leaving an unspoken, “Are you a lunatic?” hanging in the air.
“Well, I… “
“You’re probably unused to strong spirits. The wine made you see such things.”
“Wine? But I didn’t drink any.”
“See, there you go!” Erik waved a hand dramatically in the air. “I clearly saw Lady Isibel refill your cup thrice. So yes, just the wine. Perhaps we’ll water it for you next time. I’m told you village folk normally drink ale. Perchance we should find a barrel or two.”
“It was just the wine?” Galen’s eyes practically begged for reassurance.
“Just the wine. The child sleeps now in the de… nursery, along with the other cu… young ones.” Erik slowly relaxed. The elders knew what they were talking about. Outright lying beat the running and screaming thing paws down. “The babe is fine, and you can see him on the morrow.”
“I can?”
“Yes, you can. Tomorrow. Now for tonight…”
The visitor from beyond the wood flushed, grabbing the edges of the robe and pulling them up to his chin. “I’m naked!” he pointed out, chancing a quick look-see beneath the satin brocade before hastily retying the sash.
Erik’s success in calming his guest’s apprehension left him free to contemplate the not-naked-enough man lying in the bed. A big bed. None in the castle were bigger, save for Lady Isibel’s, specially made to accommodate her ever-widening girth and two mates.
The stranger appeared small and lonely in so large a bed. Such a bed should be shared. “You’re not naked,” Erik scoffed. “I’d notice.”
“You would?” Galen’s racing heartbeat could have been heard clear across the room, even if Erik hadn’t possessed such keen hearing.
Feeling a bit wolfish, Erik smiled, fighting not to leer. “An attractive man such as yourself, naked and lying a few mere paces away? Yes, I’d notice.”
Galen flinched. “Men shouldn’t talk to other men that way. ‘Tis forbidden.”
Erik stepped forward. Galen shrank back.
A knock sounded on the door.
Erik growled, “Who is it?”
Silence, followed by shuffling footsteps heading away from the door. The scent of disappointed beta male hit Erik’s nose. His inner creature crowed in triumph, I am the wolf!
Erik listened until the footsteps faded from hearing. “Now, where was I? Oh yes. Men doing more than thumping their chests, downing ale, and chasing females together may be forbidden elsewhere, but you forget that I’m the forest lord. Here I rule. If I say we all stand on our heads and juggle apples with our toes, my word is law.”
Actually, that presented quite an amusing image until Erik visualized his aunt in such a pose. He didn’t care to see the garments she wore under her voluminous skirts. He nearly choked on his horror. What if she, like Isibel, wore nothing beneath? He trained his eyes on the handsome stranger, willing that image to go away, lest he never be capable of coupling again. A few moments passed before Erik regained normal breathing.
One tiny step at a time, he eased closer, determined not to frighten his guest. At the very edge of the bed, he stopped. Fire danced through his veins, filling him with the need to be closer still, to run his hands over the fine skin of Galen’s chest. What was wrong with him? No stranger to the ways of a man with a man, he’d never before been so aroused.
Stepping behind an ornately backed chair to hide the evidence of his sudden attraction, he asked, “So tell me, Galen. Why did you enter my forest tonight, when all good farmsteaders are asleep in their beds, shivering at the thought of the creatures that dwell in my realm? Surely delivering a baby could be handled by the nomadic tribes who roam the land. And while I understand his arrival, I’m not sure I fully grasp yours.”
Galen’s throat bobbed, his gulp clearly audible. “I told you…”
“I don’t believe that you stole yourself a brother, and a need never existed to save him from the traders. All our half-breeds are brought to us. It’s part of our treaty with other clans.”
“It is?” Galen replied meekly. Under his breath, he added, “Then why did Kitta say…” Puzzlement filled his eyes.
