Page 61 of Beauty's Beast

He let out a long sigh. The transformation was spreading. His body was in constant pain as muscle and bone and tissue fought against the Change. But there was no need to tell her that.

“I feel fine, all things considered. Who are you? How did I get here?”

“All in good time, Erik.” She went back to the fire and picked up a bowl and spoon. “You need to eat to replenish your strength.”

She sat beside him and offered him a spoonful of thick, dark broth. He hesitated a moment before swallowing it.

She lifted one brow in wry amusement. “Afraid I’m going to poison you?”

“It doesn’t make much sense for you to save my life only to drag me in here to poison me.” He regarded her curiously for a moment. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“Should I be?”

He lifted a hand to the left side of his face. “Most people would be repelled by this.”

“I am not most people.”

He nodded. There was no doubt of that. He glanced around the cave, at the wolves sitting patiently nearby. He had the peculiar feeling they understood everything that was being said. “Are the wolves your pets?”

“Pets?” She laughed at that, a deep husky sound that reminded him of distant thunder. She stroked the gray wolf’s head. “This is my father. The pretty black one is my mother, and the sleepy one is my sister, Elsbeth.” Valaree cocked her head to one side, her gaze studying him intently. “What happened to you? I’ve never seen anyone trapped in the midst of the Change.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She offered him another spoonful of broth. “You’re one of us, are you not?”

“One of you?”

“Never mind.” Frowning, she fed him the rest of the thick soup. “You should rest now. You will feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

He didn’t want to sleep, he wanted answers to the questions tumbling through his mind, needed to find Kristine, but his body, warmed by the broth and weakened from loss of blood, cried out for rest. Valaree covered him with a thick quilt, then went to sit beside the fire once more.

He stared at her through heavy-lidded eyes until sleep claimed him.

Chapter Sixteen

It was after dusk the following night when Erik awoke. He sat up, surprised to find himself alone in the cave. A small fire burned near the rear of the cavern. His first thought was for Kristine. He had to find her before it was too late, had to get her away from Charmion while he was still human enough to accomplish it.

He sat there for several minutes, gathering his strength. His right shoulder throbbed painfully, but other than that, he felt remarkably strong. He removed the bandages from his left arm and side. Both were healed, with only faint scars to show he had been hurt at all. He ran his hand down his left side, scarcely able to believe his own eyes.

Rising, he found his clothes and boots and put them on. He searched for several minutes, but couldn’t find his mask. He felt naked and vulnerable without it.

He was prowling the cave for something to eat when he caught the smell of fresh blood. Turning, he saw the wolves enter the cave. The gray one was carrying a lamb in its jaws.

Erik frowned. There had been three wolves last night; this evening there were four.

The gray wolf dropped the lamb carcass near the fire, then sat down. Two of the black wolves stretched out beside the male.

The fourth wolf lifted its head and let out a long, heart-wrenching howl and then, while Erik watched in slack-jawedastonishment, the creature began to change shape. It was an awesome thing to watch, frightening yet fascinating to see the thick black pelt recede and become soft human flesh, to hear the pop and crackle of bones and muscles realigning themselves, until Valaree stood before him, her long black hair falling down her bare back and over her shoulders.

She smiled at him, apparently not bothered by her nudity. “Good evening, Erik.”

He nodded, unable to speak. The wordwerewolfrose in the back of his mind. He knew now why they had saved him. They thought he was one of them, trapped between his human half and his wolf half. He had never believed the tales he had heard of werewolves, had thought them only idle tales told to frighten children. Until now. “Does it hurt?”

“The Change?” There was a pile of clothing near the wall of the cavern. She reached for a long gray robe and slipped it over her head. “There is a certain amount of pain.”

She picked up the lamb and the scent of blood and raw meat filled his nostrils. “Do you want it raw,” she asked, “or cooked?”

Erik’s mouth watered at the thought of tearing into the lamb’s still-warm flesh. Horrified, he shook his head. “Cook it!”

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