Page 46 of Wolf's Prize

She gathered her courage, reached up, brought his face down to hers, and pressed her lips against his. His eyes widened, and he stiffened further, reaching for her hands. Then he moaned against her mouth, a sound of raw need and surrender that sent shivers right to her toes.

She released him, giddy laughter bubbling up inside. She bit her lip to prevent the smile that threatened and turned to leave. Aimon’s arm snaked out, grasping her wrist, and he pulled her into his arms. Kathryn’s breath whooshed out as he crushed her against his bare chest.

“You want a kiss?” he growled, holding her body firm against the length of his.

The feel of him, muscular and strong against her, had her quivering all over. With her lips parted and her eyes wide, she nodded.

“Then I am going to damn well kiss you good and proper.”

His mouth descended, all reticence disappearing as he took her mouth in his. No light touching of lips, no gentle pressure. This kiss claimed, demanded and took. It spoke of carnal pleasure, of an intimacy so deep she had never dared dream existed. She opened her mouth to him, and his tongue slipped between her lips, plunging into her mouth. Oh. He tasted…amazing. She followed his lead, meeting him stroke for stroke, clinging to him, need bursting over her and threatening to consume her.

She swooned against him, and her wolf roared to the surface, a prickling under her skin, coarse hair threatening to cover her hands. She held it in check. Barely. He drew away from her, his release as sudden as his embrace. Dazed, her chest heaving, she tried to catch her breath.Oh my.Now she knew what it felt like to be kissed, really kissed. Never had she thought to experience such…such passion. She wanted to do it again. She reached for him, but he stepped away and scooped up his tunic. He jerked it over his head, avoiding her eyes.

He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I am sorry, Kathryn. I forgot myself. It will not happen again. I promise.”

Without a backward glance, Aimon stalked off to the keep, leaving Kathryn staring after him, her lips still tingling.

What if she wanted it to happen again? Her eyes narrowed on his retreating back. She may not be as conniving as Manette and her malevolent little posse, but if he thought she would let him kiss her like that and forget it ever happened… Because of some misguided idea about her modesty… She lifted her skirts and dashed after Aimon. It was high time people stopped making decisions on her behalf and let her make her own.

Chapter Twenty-One

Renaud stared across the bailey at the two hulking chevaliers, Edmond and Aubert Montagne. No doubt the brutish twins were here for him. To spy on him, or to intimidate him perhaps. It mattered not. Their continued presence was only a minor inconvenience, nothing more. Some days it was both twins. Others only one.

“Will you join us for mass, Votre Excellence?”

Renaud turned to see Amonier Touissant standing in the sacristy’s doorway. A mild-mannered man half his age, Touissant had come to the profession through a ‘call from God’. He cared for his congregation, ministered to their souls and listened to their petty sins, attempting to ease the burden of their wretched lives with a dedication Renaud had never felt, nor fostered, within himself. He supposed there were bound to be those in the church motivated by a desire to do God’s will.

“Thank you, Amonier Touissant, not this morning. You may perform the service. I am not here to intrude on your good work.”

“As you wish, Votre Excellence.”

Touissant bowed and retreated from the sacristy. Renaud returned his gaze to the bailey. One of the brutish twins had vanished, Aubert or Edmond, he could not tell which. Most likely the absent brother sat in the chapel awaiting his appearance, preparing to glower at him through mass. He smirked. He had slipped past them before. They were not taking any chances he would do so again.

He pulled a piece of parchment from within the folds of his robe, unfurled it, and stared at the two images scratched out in ink—one of a howling wolf’s head, the other of a stone. Both set in a round disc, an amulet. Beneath them, four incomplete lines of a rhyme he had yet to discern the meaning of. A rhyme engraved onto the amulets of those godforsaken creatures, the werewolves. A spell. Blood magic, he suspected, that made them disappear.

His gaze flicked back to the lone twin leaning against the palisade. No doubt he wore one around his neck. What Renaud would not give to know the words of the verse. Better yet, to have one of those amulets in his possession.

He frowned at the words on the parchment. He could guess at a few of the words, had heard the spoken rhyme when he had had many a werewolf trapped, but the spell would not work without the precise incantation. Or the amulet, he suspected. He had tried it. Many times.

And what of the amulet with the stone? It had no inscription on it he had seen. Only a howling wolf’s head on one side and the blood-red stone on the other. He fingered the parchment. Perhaps he should be grateful the spell had not worked for him. He suspected this bloodstone was the key to the werewolves’ disappearances. He may not have liked where the spell propelled him to had he been successful.

At a rap on the door, Renaud thrust the parchment back beneath the folds of his robe, concealing it.

“Eveque Faucher.” Renaud raised his eyebrows at the young man standing in the doorway. “What a…pleasant surprise.” He frowned. “I do not recall giving you leave to depart your jurisdiction.” Nor to join him here in Langeais. The last thing he needed, or wanted, was the prying eyes of this pretentious whelp.

“Votre Excellence.”

Renaud held out his hand, forcing Faucher to kneel and kiss his ring. Renaud’s gaze narrowed. Faucher’s genuflection was perfunctory at best.

“My orders came from above.”

Renaud’s nostrils flared. From the Cardinal or the Pontiff, himself? He fixed a smile on his face. “Well then, I trust your journey from Tours was satisfactory.” He chose a chair, indicating Faucher should also sit. “Is there something I can assist you with?”

Eveque Faucher smiled, giving his face an almost angelic cast. He did not fool Renaud.

“Yes. You are the very reason I am here.”

Of all the conceited…Renaud gritted his teeth. He took a deep breath and calmed himself. He had known from the moment of his appointment into the clergy the young priest would be trouble and had tried to stem his rapid ascension through the church ranks. But Faucher had powerful connections.

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