She inched toward the foyer. A floorboard underfoot creaked with her weight.
“Don’t even think about closing that door,” her husband said, his gaze on the windows. “Besides, he’d just jump through the glass panes, a wolf’s need to protect his mate is that strong. You don’t want him injured before he has a proper chance to fight, do you?”
Beth ignored him, backing up toward the foyer. “He’ll kill you.”
“My dear wife, I’m so touched you’re worried about my welfare. But I’ve been training. Training with powerful men. While your husband is a mere lord who has been lounging around his estate, with servants to see to his every need.”
Nate was the strongest man she’d ever known, a man who wouldn’t relent, but if Christopher wanted to believe the nonsense he spewed, so be it. Her husband had always been arrogant, always placed himself upon a lofty pedestal. His arrogance would be his downfall.
“We will see,” she whispered.
Suddenly he jerked like a worm on a fishing hook, his back arching as he cried out. Beth gasped, stumbling back into the wall. Pain rippled across his features, his skin going pale as sweat streamed down his temples. He was turning. With a grunt, he fell forward to all fours.
“God help us,” she whispered.
Panting, he was still for the briefest of moments, then suddenly his bones began to move, crawling underneath this pale skin, bending and twisting and popping until she thought she’d scream with the horror of it all.
With a muffled cry, Beth pressed her fists to her mouth. Pale fur sprouted from his pores, and at the same time his chin began to elongate, the hair on his head growing longer…longer. It was too much…all too much, yet she couldn’t look away.
With a howl of pain, he arched his back again. If she wouldn’t have known better she would have thought he was dying. His mouth twisted, quivering, growing longer, longer into a snout that snarled and growled and snapped at nothing.
It happened so quickly that it was impossible to mark the moment when he’d changed, but suddenly her husband was gone and a wolf with pale fur stood panting in the middle of her parlor.
Human no longer, the wolf swiveled his head toward her. His nostrils flared, his lips lifting into a growl that showed canines glistening with saliva. Beth went cold. He lifted a front paw and stepped closer. He was going to kill her. Frantic she searched the room, hoping she’d missed a weapon. Something. Anything.
The sudden howl caught them both off guard. Her husband swiveled his head toward the door just as Nate, in his wolf form, entered. He was so regal, so stunning, that any fear Beth felt diminished. Nate might think all werewolves monsters, but Beth knew better. Immediately, his glowing gaze found her and remained. Looking into Nate’s eyes, she recognized the man deep down. He wouldn’t hurt her.
Christopher’s wolf form growled, vibrating the very room.
Nate jerked his gaze toward her husband. The air shifted, crackling as if a storm was about to erupt. Backs arched, lips lifted into growls. They were two wolves fighting over territory. One would die.
Beth started forward, intent on protecting Nate, on doing something. Anything.
“Stop!” Grayson demanded, suddenly appearing in the foyer behind Nate. “Never get between two wolves. Understand?”
Nate and her husband swiveled their heads, growling at Grayson. Both beasts shifted, their nails tapping against the floorboards as they danced in circles around each other, uncertain who was the threat. It hit her in that moment that Nate didn’t recognize Grayson. If he didn’t know someone he’d been friends with for years, how would he know her?
“I can’t just stand here and do nothing,” Beth whispered.
“That’s exactly what you’ll do.” Grayson moved slowly around the two wolves. Nate backed up, hunched low, his gaze following Grayson. Her husband did the same. They were suddenly united in their distrust. When Grayson reached her, he shoved Beth behind his back.
“What will we do?” Beth whispered, trying to peek around Grayson’s broad shoulders.
“We wait.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as if not the least bit concerned. “We let them fight.”
Perhaps men turning into wolves and fighting to the death was normal in his world, but this was all new to her. Beth reached out and grabbed the fine linen of his shirt. “But—”
“Trust that Nate knows what he’s doing.”
Blast, but he was right. She knew Nate was still there, deep down. She would have to trust that he would control the animal. Apparently finding Beth and Grayson the lesser threats, the two wolves focused back on each other.
“Nate’s been a wolf for a long time, while your husband is new. Nate will win.”
She wished she could be so sure. Her husband was sneaky, and would do whatever it took to win. What would she do if she lost Nate? No, she wouldn’t think that way. “My husband claims he’s here not to kill you, but to capture you both.”
The two wolves hunched low, growling, their glowing gazes pinned to each other.
Grayson glanced back at her. “Did he?”
She nodded, wondering what he was thinking. It was so bloody hard to read his mind. “He said there are men who will pay handsomely for a captured wolf or…blood drinker.”
Grayson’s jaw clenched, the only indication that he’d heard. Without a word, he refocused on the two wolves. She meant to question him about her husband’s comment, but didn’t have a chance. Christopher leapt forward, the first to move. Nate met him halfway and they slammed into each other so hard the very house vibrated. Beth cried out, torn between wanting to rush forward, and stay out of the way.
Grayson stretched out his arm, blocking her. “Don’t interfere.”
Her husband leapt at Nate again, going for his throat. But Nate was smart even in wolf form. He twisted easily out of the way and Christopher went skidding across the floorboards.
“We need to do something!” Beth demanded.
“I’ll help if he needs it. But I promise you he won’t.”
Christopher regained his balance and the two wolves circled each other once more. Waiting for the winner was complete and utter torture. Beth held her breath, her hands clasped tightly together as she watched, helpless to do anything.
Nate bolted forward. Christopher jumped at the same time. They hit with a thud and fell to the floor, stirring the dust. Frantic, she tried to decipher wolf from wolf, but their movements were too quick, and she couldn’t tell who was winning.
A sudden yelp rang through the room. With a gasp, Beth grabbed Grayson’s arm. Christopher collapsed and Nate leapt to his paws. Her husband lay in a heap of fur, panting on the ground. The skin of his right leg was ripped open, pink flesh peeking through, blood dripping from the fur and onto the floorboards.
“Nate?” She jerked her gaze toward the foyer. Nate wasn’t injured, he’d survived. Her fingers curled as she resisted the urge to run to him and hold him close.
He kept an eye on her husband, but did no more than that. Christopher began to morph back into a human. His fur faded, growing shorter and shorter. His body twisted and shrank. It was too much. Beth turned her head, hiding behind Grayson’s back as Christopher howled in discomfort.
“He’s done,” Grayson said only a few breaths later.
Beth dared to peek around Grayson. Christopher lay upon the floor, holding his bleeding leg, his jaw clenched with pain. The man she knew only too well had returned.
She could hear Nate panting as he paced back and forth, those claws tapping against the floorboards. He was eager to finish the deed. And he could kill Christopher so easily. But for some reason he didn’t.
“Help me,” Christopher cried out.
But Beth barely paid the man any mind. Suddenly, Nate stiffened, the hair on the back of his neck standing on end as he swiveled his attention toward the foyer.
“Nate?” Startled, Beth followed his gaze. Someone was coming, she could hear the thump of footsteps heading closer. “What is it
?”
“Shite,” Grayson muttered.
The constable appeared…a man who wanted to see her hang. A man she’d hoped to never see again. His wide gaze first found her and Grayson, her husband naked and injured on the floor, then Christopher’s dead henchman still in the corner, before finally noticing Nate’s wolf form in the shadows.
He stumbled back. “Good God!”
Everything happened so quickly, she barely had time to react. Nate lowered to his haunches, growling at the man, and preparing to attack. The constable jerked his arms up, the pistol at his fingertips trembling.
“No!” Beth cried out, darting in front of Nate before Grayson could stop her. “No!”
“Are you insane?” the constable demanded. “Move, Lady Brockwell!”
This was the man who had verbally attacked her, had ruined her reputation, had posted pictures of her around the countryside in an attempt to bring her to supposed justice. He had destroyed her, but she would not let him destroy Nate and his sons.
“Step back, Lady Brockwell…now!” The constable demanded again.
“I will not.”
Her husband stumbled to his feet, in all his naked, injured glory. “I need a doctor!”
“What happened?” The constable demanded.
“The wolf attacked me. Shoot him!” Christopher cried out, scooping up his trousers.
Beth threw her arms wide, protecting Nate. “No!”
“The man in the corner.” The constable swallowed hard, nervous and confused. “Who shot him and why?”
“My husband shot him,” Beth snapped out. “You know, my husband. The man who is supposed to be dead. The man you claimed I killed. The man who fooled us all.”
The constable had the decency to flush.
“Go,” Grayson said to the constable. “Escort Lord Brockwell to the doctor, I’ll take care of the wolf.”
The constable’s pistol wavered in indecision. “A man back from the dead. A wolf in England.” He shook his head, staring wide-eyed at the animal pawing at the ground behind her. Nate was growing restless, but he had to keep his wolf form. If he changed in front of the constable, their secret would be out. Nate would be hunted, feared, destroyed. She couldn’t let that happen.
“Go,” Grayson demanded, pulling a pistol from his waistband, as if he intended to shoot Nate.
Christopher didn’t wait, but scooped up the rest of his clothing and limped from the house, leaving a trail of blood behind on the floorboards. He knew when he’d been defeated. He would relent…for now.
The constable nodded, sweat beading at his temples. “If you insist.”
He was a coward when it came down to it, and he’d rather deal with an injured, naked lord, than a deadly wolf. Slowly, carefully, the constable made his way to the door, following her husband outside and to safety. It was over. She was no longer wanted for murder. Yet…she was still married.
Grayson moved to the windows. “They’re gone.”
Beth turned to face Nate. He was big, much larger than any dog or wolf should be, yet she wasn’t afraid. He could kill her with one bite but she was not nervous. He growled as he glared up at her, his eyes so human, yet so full of confusion, indecision. He wasn’t sure if he could trust her. He felt like he could, but he didn’t understand why.
“All is well,” she whispered, holding out her hand. “Please, Nate.”
He hesitated, then slowly, gingerly, stepped forward and sniffed her hand. His massive head reached her shoulders. He smelled of earth and the sun. She wanted to bury her face in his neck and hug him tightly. She knew him, and deep down he knew her.
“Careful,” Grayson warned.
But shockingly, Nate merely settled back on his haunches.
“That’s it,” she murmured.
He was magnificent. The most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. She paused for the briefest moment, then with a trembling hand she reached out and slid her fingers through the thick fur at his side. Nate was barely aware. No, his gaze was on the real threat in the room…Grayson. He might trust her, after all she was no threat. But he knew Grayson could be a formidable enemy.
“He knows you,” Grayson said, sounding surprised. “And he trusts you.”
For some reason the realization brought tears to her eyes. No one but Meg had ever trusted her so completely. “Do you know me, Nate?” She slid her fingers through the fur at his neck. “I knew you were still there.”
The wolf whimpered shifting. He was eager to change back, or maybe he was eager to run free out in those fields. She could understand that need. She’d had a taste of freedom when she’d lived with Nate and the boys on his estate and she would never be the same because of it.
Grayson moved slowly toward them. “I knew he’d be able to control himself…he just needed the right incentive.”
Beth blushed. She didn’t dare think she had that much influence. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder who would be his voice of reason when she was gone?
“I’m married,” she whispered to no one in particular.
“Beth,” Grayson said. “If you think Nate is going to let you go merely because your husband is out there, you don’t know him very well.”
Startled, she met his gaze. What could Nate do? The law was on Christopher’s side. He owned her. She wouldn’t, couldn’t, allow Nate to sully his name because of her bad marriage.
Grayson held out his hand. “Now come, step back. Nate needs to change and when he does he won’t be happy that your husband escaped.”
****
Christopher stumbled toward the building, his breath hitching with every step he took. The pain, thank God, was fading. Or maybe that wasn’t good, maybe it meant he’d lost too much blood…he wasn’t sure anymore. The clothing he’d stolen and the darkness of night hid his wound from what would have been shocked and curious glances. But his clothing had gone sticky, wet and cold from the rain and his own blood. He was chilled, hungry and exhausted. But he was alive.
Would he be for long? The bite on his leg wasn’t healing. Why wasn’t it healing? Every other injury he’d received since becoming a werewolf had healed quickly, almost as if the injuries hadn’t happened. Shite, he didn’t know enough about this new life. He shoved open the iron gate and managed to haul himself up the steps. The wide, double doors wavered in and out of focus before him. He’d won…for now.
Once he healed, he would get his bitch of a wife back and make her pay for the rest of her life for betraying him. Beth was his. She’d been his the moment he’d spotted her across the ball room. There had been something so very unique, so innocent and intriguing about her. The fact that she’d come with a large dowry only added to her appeal. She was his. Damn it all, he owned her, here and in the ever after.
Steeling his resolve, he lifted his fist and knocked. He knew by the carriages lining the road that Lord Perkings was having one of his gatherings. In polite London society, he’d met the man years ago, but it had been in passing. They were mere acquaintances, until now. Until he’d woken up in the man’s basement, chained to the wall. It was Lord Perkings who had told him what he was, had shown him how to change, and what he was capable of now that he had received that wolf bite. Perkings was obsessed, which was odd since he was pure human. Nothing otherworldly about him.
The door opened and the butler stood there. Seeing him and noticing the injury under the gas lamps that hung near the door, the man’s lip lifted into a curl of disgust. Not compassion. No. No one who lived in this house held any compassion, which was why he’d loved it here.
“Lord Brockwell, may I help you?”
“I need to see him.”
That look of disgust was back. Slowly, the butler looked him up and down. Arrogant sod, as if he had the right to peer at him down his crooked nose. He was a viscount, for God’s sake. If he wasn’t injured he’d backhand the man for his impertinence.
“Hurry!” he snapped. “Do you not see I’m injured?”
The butler sniffed as if u
nconcerned. “Wait here.”
He left him in the foyer. The estate was clean, respectable, elegant. A home that had been in the earl’s family for centuries. Who would have thought that underneath in the cellars there was more? So much more.
He stumbled to a chair and collapsed. His body was growing weaker with each beat of his heart. It had been easy enough to escape the constable. With a few words from Lord Perkings, any charges that might be thrown his way would be dropped.
Damn his wife and her lover. Who would have thought his meek Beth would grab the attention of a man like Lord Brimley? No doubt she was doing a hell of a lot more in the bedchamber than she’d done with him, the whore, to gain the man’s interest. Still, she’d be nothing more than the man’s mistress, and the thought of her shunned by society was what had him smiling in the face of his pain. Dishonored, no one would blame him if he decided to kill her.
He smelled the butler a good two minutes before he arrived. Another benefit of his new body. How he adored the power that radiated through him. He could take over the fucking world with his abilities. And he would. He had plans. So many plans. But for now he would cause no stir. Oh, he’d simper and scrape and bow, but soon he’d be the one controlling these dark games Lord Perkings so loved.
“Come with me,” the butler said from the shadows.
Christopher forced himself to stand even though the movement made the pain return. Sucking in his breath, he hobbled after the servant, through the hall, down the steps and to a steel door. He could hear nothing beyond that wall, but he knew those cellars were full.
The butler opened the door, the hinges screeching, and led him into a hall lit by gas lanterns that hung from beams above. The shadows waved and leered across the stone walls, dancing in merriment as if they knew something he didn’t. A shiver of unease raked down his back.