Page 1 of Wolf's Redemption

Chapter One

Langeais, Frankia

999

The clang of the grate above had Ulrik Voclain on his feet. His chains rattled and the silver shackles around his wrists and neck shifted, brushing over red and blistered skin. He hissed, steeling himself against the pain. Footsteps descended the steep steps cut into stone—confident and purposeful. He faced the stairs, tilted his nose and sampled the air, his visitor closer than he would have liked when he finally caught his scent.

Lothair, Comte de Anjou.

Ulrik’s lips curled in a snarl and anger burned a fiery trail from his gut to his throat. He drew himself up to his full height but repressed the growl threatening to form. The man who had taken everything from him, who had thrown him in this dank, godforsaken hole, would not see him cowering. But to unleash his rage would serve neither him nor his pack.

“Ulrik Voclain.”

Lothair stepped into the tight space, a candle held aloft, its meager flame doing little to stave off the darkness. Ulrik smirked. The lack of light did not makehimuneasy.

Anger flashed in his comte’s eyes, the air tainted with its sharpness, but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. “Laugh all you like, Ulrik. I may not have your ability to see in the dark, butIam not the one chained to the wall.”

This time, Ulrik could not suppress his growl.

Lothair set the candle on the bottom step and surveyed the small, airless space, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. Ulrik rolled his lips, quashing his grin. Even now, chained and bound in silver as he was, Lothair saw him as a threat.

“How do you like my little underground chamber, Ulrik? It is impressive, is it not?” Lothair brushed a hand over the rough stone wall. “Secure, unpleasant and hidden beneath the bowels of my keep. I never imagined I would use it to contain a werewolf.” Lothair’s gaze settled on him. “Ironic, you should be the one to end up secured in here after what your family sacrificed to save you from this very thing.”

Ulrik roared and lunged for Lothair. His chains snapped tight, keeping him well beyond the reach of his comte. He howled, filling the chamber with his anguish and his loss. Nervous shuffles and anxious whispers from the guards above filtered down the stairs, along with the heavy stench of fear so strong he could scent it even in his weakened state.

Amusement flashed across Lothair’s face, but he took a cautious step back. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Always the hothead.” He shook his head. “Calm yourself, Ulrik. We do not want rumors of a beast beneath my keep spreading now, do we?”

He wanted to howl, but the silver of his shackles kept his wolf repressed. He had never felt such loneliness within his own thoughts. Where once the comforting and familiar presence of his wolf had filled his mind, a constant since birth, now only a deep silence remained.

Damn the silver. Damn Archeveque Renaud and his wolfsbane trap.

If there had been any other choice… If he could have saved Gaharet, his alpha, without stepping into that ring of wolfsbane… Had his alpha’s mate’s life not hung in the balance… He breathed through his rage until it settled into a calmacceptance. There had been no other choice. If not him, Gaharet would have stepped into the trap. Ulrik could never have allowed the unholy alliance between Lothair and the scheming archeveque to imprison their alpha. Not while he still breathed. The pack needed Gaharet more than it needed him.

Lothair paced in front of him, close but not close enough. “Archeveque Renaud came to see you.” Lothair’s lips twisted in a sardonic grin. “Did you think I would not know? That my men would not inform me of his visit? Ha! Renaud is a fool if he thinks I would not suspect his game.” Lothair cocked his head. “What did he offer you? Freedom? Vengeance?”

Ulrik glanced away.

“Ahh. Both. Very free with his promises, is our archeveque. And what, pray tell, was the archeveque’s price? No.” Lothair held up his hand, halting words Ulrik had no intention of speaking. “Let me guess. He wanted you to bite me. Turnmeinto a werewolf, rather than I choose a sacrificial keep guard or some lowly chevalier to turn. The perfect excuse for him to use all his newfound skills at binding werewolves. The church to the rescue of the people of Langeais, saving them from the wicked and now cursed Comte de Anjou. What a coup for Archeveque Renaud.”

Lothair took a step toward him. Ulrik met his stare. “Renaud may see you as an easy target, Ulrik. An open festering wound he could poke a few times and stir into action. I know you are too smart to fall for his promises.”

Ulrik’s nostrils flared, and his hands clenched into fists. Renaud’s offer had tempted him. He could not deny it, not to himself, but he had not given his life freely for his alpha, only to turn on him now. Not again. He stepped back and let the tension ease from his chains, if not his body.

The knowing smugness that settled across Lothair’s face rankled, but Ulrik held it in. For all the rumors of his loose gripon sanity, the comte had an uncanny ability to be one step ahead of any scheme or plot against him.

“I always win, Ulrik. You know that.”

Ulrik gritted his teeth, but he kept his expression neutral.

“And I always get what I want.”

Ulrik stared down his comte. “Do what you will, but I will not bite you or anyone else. I will not helpRenaud”—he spat the name out—“and I will not help you create an army of werewolves.”

Lothair shrugged. “We shall see.”

Ulrik steeled himself. From the moment he had thrown himself into Renaud’s wolfsbane trap, putting himself at the mercy of his comte, it had always been going to come to this. Lothair would use whatever methods necessary to achieve his goal, and that promised Ulrik pain and suffering. “I willdiebefore I give you what you want. You may be the Comte de Anjou, but I will never kneel before you again. Irenounceyou. I rescind my oath to serve you.”

“You think to taunt me into killing you swiftly?” Lothair hummed his amusement. “In the end, you may wish for death, but I assure you, it will not come anytime soon. You are too valuable a commodity, and you possess knowledge I require.”

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