Page 45 of Wolf's Prize

He set off at a slow trot, giving Kathryn time to adjust to running on four legs instead of two. When he was sure she could manage, he opened up into a run. He modified his pace to hers, keeping a keen eye on her should she falter. For Aimon, being alive, when not so long ago he had faced his own death, he saw each day as a gift. Living his life changed, as more than human, was extraordinary. There was nothing like the sense of freedom, the pure exhilaration, that came with running as a wolf. This is what he wanted for Kathryn. To experience this joy for herself.

With an expression of extreme concentration, she bounded over a log and landed on all fours. She skidded to a halt, her eyes wide and her jaw dropping open. He halted. Was she hurt? Had she landed awkwardly? Kathryn turned to him, a semblance of a grin forming. She tilted her head back and howled, a song full of exultation and triumph. She had found it. What it meant to be a wolf. He lifted his own muzzle and howled with her.

He yipped at her to follow him, and he turned, starting off again. He traversed game trails as he led her through the forest, down ravines and across small creeks, weaving through the trees. She did not falter, keeping pace with him, the breeze ruffling through her fur and sheer joy shining in her eyes. When he reached a small meadow, he stopped. He could run for leagues yet, but Kathryn would need to rest. If he pushed her too hard, her human body, unaccustomed to such physical activity, would suffer. He settled himself on the grass and Kathryn flopped down beside him, panting, but happy.

A cricket hopped in front of her, and she tracked it, ears pricked. It landed on her paw. She jumped up, and the cricket leaped away. She bounded off after it, pouncing about the meadow in a fruitless attempt to catch it. Another jumped across her nose, then another, and she darted about, chasing them all, catching none.

Aimon rested his nose on his paws. Had he looked as young to Gaharet when he had first come into the forest? Playing like a pup, full of energy and enthusiasm, his attention so easily distracted? Had Gaharet found his antics as amusing as he found Kathryn’s?Most likely.

Abandoning the crickets in favor of chasing her tail, Kathryn spun herself in ever smaller circles. She had no more success catching her tail than she had with the crickets, falling over and rolling amongst the wildflowers. His tongue lolling out, he grinned at her. She mock growled and leaped at him, pouncing onhistail. Springing to his feet, spurred on by her playfulness, he threw his shoulder into her, knocking her off balance, and grabbed her tail. She yipped and bounded away. He followed, chasing her around the meadow and nipping at her heels. She rounded on him, pounced again, and they rolled about in the grass.

Larger than her, he gained the upper hand and pinned her down. His teeth gently gripped the scruff of her neck, trapping her beautiful auburn wolf beneath him. His blood heated. It roared through his veins, his body trembling with his need to shift, to return to his human form. He would claim her, mate her. It felt right, natural, and there was no other place he would rather be, no other woman he would rather have beneath him than her. He raised his head and howled his triumph.

The lick of her tongue against his muzzle broke his thoughts. He stiffened.

What am I doing?

He looked down at her. Her hazel eyes stared at him, but not with fear. The haze in his vision shifted, and he lifted himself off her, backing away. He turned his back to her, flushed with shame at the thoughts rolling through his head. Thoughts of his body wedged between her thighs, plunging deep. He shook his big, furry head and slunk away to the edge of the meadow.

He kept his head down, and his focus on the forest, refusing to look at Kathryn’s beautiful auburn wolf. If he did, he knew damn well he would shift and take her right here on the forest floor. Not the smartest thing he would have ever done. Certainly not the most considerate either. He wanted to, more than anything, but he could not. She tempted him beyond measure, testing every ounce of his control. Perhaps Gaharet should be Kathryn’s teacher, not him.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, urging Kathryn to follow him, he trotted from the clearing and headed back toward the keep. Training Kathryn was proving to be his own personal hell.

Chapter Twenty

They were leaving? Had she done something wrong? Had he not enjoyed their playful romp across the meadow? Kathryn scowled after the retreating white wolf. Were all men as confusing as Aimon? She had played the demure lady, kept her temper in check and worked hard. She had pleased him with her progress. He had said so. And yet still, he wished to keep his distance.

She hastened after him, following him as he retraced their steps through the forest. Did he not see them as a good match? Their days together had only convinced her. His longing to find his place, to belong somewhere—emotions she had touched briefly in the hall—echoed her own insecurities. He understood her like no one else could. And she liked him. A lot.

For a man trained to kill with a sword, there was a gentleness about him, a kindness. The more time she spent with him, the more he impressed her with his calm confidence, his patience, even his honorable dedication to protecting her modesty. Aimon Proulx was a good man. And the way he stirred within her unfamiliar desires gave her hope that, with him, she might find the kind of marriage her father had had. She might find love.

Not so long ago, such a thing had seemed beyond her reach. Something few would ever find, least of all her. But with Aimon… She could not let this chance slip her by.

They entered the clearing, their discarded clothing awaiting them. She trotted over to her dress and chemise and glanced over at him. His shoulders stiff, Aimon resolutely faced away from her. She narrowed her eyes at his back. What would it take for him to cross the line from being her teacher to something more intimate?

She turned her back to him, closed her eyes, calmed her mind and willed herself human. With a sigh and a cracking of bones, her wolf's fur receded, her spine elongated, her snout shrank, and she shifted.

The light breeze brushed against her naked skin. She looked down at her hands. Human. She wiggled her fingers and smiled. She had done it. She had become her wolf and run through the forest and frolicked in the meadow, and none of her fears had materialized. She had not been stuck as a wolf unable to return to human form, her transition no more difficult than those in the training room. She was still, and had at all times been, Kathryn. And, oh, the joy of running as a wolf and allowing the darker half free rein… Nothing in her life would ever compare.

The cracking and popping of bones as Aimon shifted filled her awareness. Maybe one thing could compare… Her body tingled, heat blooming between her thighs and her nipples pebbling. No other man had ever had this effect on her.

Kathryn hastened to dress, doing up the buttons she could reach, and turned to face Aimon. Breeches on, his broad back bare, he bent to retrieve his tunic, his muscles flexing as he moved. Her stomach fluttered. Her gaze lingered. No more playing at being a lady.

She sidled up to him, admiring the play of muscles across his back that bunched the closer she came. Her gaze fell to the jagged pink scar below his right shoulder blade. Reaching out, she traced her fingers across the puckered skin. A shiver rippled across his torso. She curled her fingers into her palm.

“I am…” Was she sorry she had touched him? Run her hands across his golden skin? No, she was not. She itched to touch him again. Would he think her too bold? Kathryn no longer cared.

“Thank you.” She uncurled her fingers and placed her palm against his warm skin, trailing a path down his spine. His muscles twitched beneath her fingers. “For everything. For today.” She licked her lips. “For taking me for a run, as you promised. For teaching me.” Her hand reached the band of his breeches. An eerie stillness settled about his body, and his musky scent deepened. “For showing me that being a werewolf is not all bad.”

“Being a werewolf is nothing to fear. I am pleased I could show you this.” His voice was gruff, and it rumbled through her, tweaking her nipples and her sex. Her own pheromones filled the air. He coughed and cleared his throat, the muscles in his shoulders tightening even more.

She ran her hand over his tense muscles, wanting to break through his stoic reserve. “I am glad you came to the keep. I wanted you to come…for whatever reason.” Kathryn hesitated. Talking to his broad back, not seeing if she reached him at all, made continuing difficult. She plowed on. “I want you to know… When I said what I did in the library, I…I was not angry with you. I did not want you to leave. In truth I…I wanted you to stay, but…” She swallowed. “You have this effect on me, and I…I struggled to hold my werewolf in, to keep it hidden.” She took a deep breath. “I thought I was protecting you.” She caressed his back, enjoying the way his muscles quivered beneath her fingers. She blew out a breath. For all her good breeding, her words lacked eloquence.

Aimon dropped his tunic to the ground and spun to face her. Kathryn wanted to continue touching him, run her hand across his glorious chest, but face to face, she did not dare.

“I know, Kathryn. I understood.”

She tilted her head up to meet his gaze. Dark indigo swirled in the depths of his eyes, and his musky scent intensified, but his shoulders remained stiff and unyielding. Must she say it? Give him permission to court her?

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