Page 21 of Wolf's Prize

“Very well. Now come, Kathryn. You must be exhausted. You have had quite an emotional day. Drink some more of my brew, and you will sleep like a babe tonight with not a care in the world.” She reached for Kathryn.

A fierce urge to protect washed over Aimon and his arms tightened around Kathryn, pulling her closer. His jaw shifted—the slide of his canines sharp against his lips. He growled at Anne.Hewould comfort her, protect her. Onlyhecould do so, like no one else.

“Do not go all wolf onme, Aimon Proulx. I will rap you over the knuckles if you do. You know I will.” The old cook stood over him with her hands on her ample hips. “I will take good care of her. She needs time to collect herself, time to sleep. You can prowl outside her chamber door all night if you wish, but I am taking her with me now.”

Aimon contemplated resisting, but one look at Anne’s determined face and he repressed his wolf’s need to protect. He retracted his canines and released Kathryn into Anne’s care. The moment she left his embrace, he itched to gather her back into his arms. But Anne was right. Kathryn needed rest, and Anne would make good on her threat. It would need a braver man than him to take on Anne, so he let her take the now fully human Kathryn from his arms and lead her from the room.

Chapter Eight

Clutching the blanket around her shoulders, Kathryn trailed along behind Anne. A heavy numbness settled upon her, and exhaustion tugged at her mind, yet the burden she had carried since the day of her attack was gone. She no longer had to hide who, or what, she was. Not from everyone. Not from Anne, Gascon or Aimon Proulx. In her heart, something new had taken root. Hope. If Aimon could tame the beast within, control when, where and how much of his body he could shift, maybe she could learn to do it, too. And perhaps being a…werewolf…did not mean being a monster.

Werewolf. A word Kathryn loathed to even think of in the dark recesses of her mind. A word she dared not utter aloud. It screamed of feral beasts, base thoughts dominated by bloodlust and a killing rage, uncontrollable and savage. Aimon had shown no hint of those things, epitomizing the refinement of his noble birth.

When his hands had shifted, his composure had remained the same. Neither had her uncontrolled shift wrought a change in his calm demeanor. His words had soothed, and his gentle touch reassured. She raised her fingers to her lips, their kiss in the forest lingering in her mind. If only she had not rejected him, not behaved in a manner more befitting the village shrew.

Anne pried the blanket from her fingers, slipped it off her shoulders, and helped her shed the torn dress. As promised, they’d filled the bathing barrel with heated water, and Kathryn stepped into it, slinking down into its scented warmth. The water soothed her aching body, and she closed her eyes. She had not completed a full transformation since the months following her attack. She had forgotten how it made her bones ache and muscles throb.

“Relax now, child. The worst of it is over. The first few times are the hardest and the most frightening. You are safe here to be who you truly are.”

Kathryn screwed up her face and pulled her scattered thoughts together.Who I truly am?Who is that?Kathryn did not know anymore. She hugged her knees to her chest and sifted through everything that had happened in the library. She had so many questions. Kathryn opened her eyes and turned her attention to the old cook.

“Did you…? Did I hear correctly? Did you really threaten to rap Monsieur Aimon over the knuckles?”

Neither Anne nor Gascon had balked at the scene she had created in the library. No fear, no horrified screams, as though a person turning into a wolf was an everyday occurrence in the d’Louncrais keep.

“Of course, dear. I told you I would have words to say if he did not behave himself.”

“But… Were you not afraid he would attack you?”

She ran her fingers over the scars on her forearm, following the gnarled skin. She shuddered and dropped her arm beneath the water.

“Oh, good Lord, no. He is a good boy, is Aimon Proulx. They all are. None of them would attack a woman. It is not in their nature. And if they did… Oh my… There would be hell to pay with the rest of the pack. And most certainly with their alpha.”

“But…”There are more like me?A whole pack? An alpha? Is that their leader?

She slumped further into the water until only her head remained above its surface and watched Anne busy herself sorting through her clothes in the trunks now lining the wall.

“One of them attacked me,” she said, leaning her head against the edge of the tub, her hair cascading over the rim. “That is how I became…you know…what I am. How my aunt died.”

Anne spun around. “What did you say?” Eyes blinking rapidly, she cast aside the blue dress she held in her hands and stared at Kathryn. “Are you saying one of her own kind killed Elise d’Louncrais?” Her hands flew to her face. “Oh, my. Something needs to be done about that.”

Kathryn started upright, her sudden movement slopping water out of the giant tub onto the floor. “My aunt was like me?”

Anne patted Kathryn’s arm absently, turning away. “Of course, dear. Shewasmarried to the alpha, Jacques d’Louncrais, Gaharet’s father. She was not born that way. Jacques turned Elise. Like Gaharet turned Aimon. That is a whole different thing from being attacked.” She met Kathryn’s gaze, her expression serious. “These wolves do not attack women or children. They protect them. Cherish them. Especially ones of their own kind. Especially family.”

Kathryn gaped at Anne.

Anne sighed. “Seems to me,” said Anne, eyeing her with a shrewdness Kathryn found disconcerting, “you have a lot to learn about your own kind.”

Anne picked up the discarded blue dress, clutching it to her chest, a visible tightness about her lips and a frown marring her brow. Kathryn swore she could see tears misting in her eyes. The old cook blinked, straightened herself and went back to sorting clothes. Perhaps she should not have mentioned her aunt.

“Kathryn, I assure you, Aimon only growled at me because he was protecting you. He, of all people, would understand exactly what you are going through. He wanted to keep you safe. From yourself if need be. He may have had a go at me once or twice, when he was turning, but he could not help that. He had yet to learn to master his own wolf. Gaharet spent a lot of time teaching him that.”

Kathryn rested her arms on top of the barrel and her chin on her arms and stared at Anne. Her aunt had been a werewolf.Andher Uncle Jacques. And Gaharet, too. She would never have guessed. Although… Memories of her Uncle Jacques, dark, brooding and a little frightening, made a lot more sense now.

Kathryn rubbed her forehead. It was a lot to take in. Only this morning, she had believed herself alone with her curse. Now, everything she knew, and all she understood about herself, had lost its certainty. There were others out there, an entire pack of them. With an alpha. How many of them were there?

“You said Gaharet turned Aimon. Why?” Aimon would not have wanted to be a werewolf, surely? And how did that differ from being attacked?

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