Moonglow
Page 39
Daisy.
Lyall was stronger. But an alpha’s will was greater than strength. This conniving bastard would not take another thing from Ian. Conviction rushed like wildfire through his flesh. Without another thought, he burst forward, urgency and need burning his blood. Strength and power as he’d never experienced surged through him with such force that he barely felt the pain lancing his body. On the next breath, he was on four legs, and Lyall was scrambling back.
Free. Free.
His wolf was a shout in his mind. Not his mind anymore, but the wolf’s. And he lay trapped, unable to control his limbs. Panic rose like acid.
Calm.
Oddly, the wolf soothed him. The wolf knew what to do. Daisy. Save her. Kill Lyall. These things were simple in its mind. The wolf would take care of him. He would protect his mate. On a snarl, he flew up and clamped down on Lyall’s neck. His teeth sank past thick fur, into the other were’s tender throat and slicing through the jugular. He shook the dying wolf like a rag, severing his spine, ending his life.
Blood coated his tongue as he let the were drop. The wolf felt a keen surge of victory, but deep in the corners of his mind, the man cried for all that he’d lost. The lycan men around him kneeled, but the wolf didn’t acknowledge them.
He was already running across the lawn, his paws sinking into the grass, his heart threatening to burst. For he knew he would be too late.
It was too quiet. Daisy sat in the chair with her knees drawn up and her arms locked around them. It was a childish pose, but she did not particularly care at the moment. Talent had been gone for too long. There had been no sounds of fighting, no call for her to come out. It was as if he’d up and disappeared. Cursing, she got to her feet and paced the floor. All was silent. Still. Too still. She could not stay here, waiting for whatever it was to come up and claim her.
Going to the French windows that opened up onto a small balcony, she looked out into the dark night. The only light came from the gibbous moon overhead. The marble terrace gleamed icy blue, punctuated here and there by the dark shadows of potted trees. Just beyond lay a wide lawn that stretched down to the glittering river, winking through a row of stately trees.
Ordinarily, she would think it madness to leave a house for the outdoors. Only right now, she felt the moonlight on her face and saw the sway of the tree limbs and felt the call of nature. Out there was her strength. She felt it now just like a rush of warm light through her veins. Out there was where she would be safe. Gathering her skirts with resolve, she went out to the balcony and then hefted herself over the edge. Her footing was sure as she climbed down the trellis. She’d climbed up and down her father’s trellis many times before. The naughty daughter who snuck out at night to carouse in taverns because she craved laughter and life so very much she’d rather take the risk and live it. How she missed being that girl. Emotion clogged her throat as she jumped lightly from the last rung and landed with sure feet.
Creeping along, she made it as far as the middle of the terrace when she realized something was amiss. The coppery tang of blood touched her nose. Walking on heavy feet, she followed the smell to the stairs that led to the garden. Her heel slid a ways as she came sharply to a halt before a black pool of blood on the white marble.
Breath caught in her throat as she slowly turned toward the spill. A scream rose and died on her lips. Talent lay in a heap at the foot of the stairwell. His right arm was a stump, his body ravaged. She thought him dead but he moved as if hearing her. One green eye, bloodied and raw, opened. His lips worked for a moment.
“Run.”
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t leave him to this.
He snarled. “Run!”
As if giving her wings, his command made her fly down the stairs and toward the garden. Her sweaty fingers slipped on her skirts as she lifted them high. A rose garden flanked the sides of the terrace where, in June, the thick, sweet scent of their blooms would surely perfume the air. Now, however, they were merely hard, twisted roots, cut short for the winter. A low, distinct growl stopped her cold on the path. Everything in her went still. Past the thundering of her heart and the panting of her breath came the click of claws upon the marble and the wild, noxious sweet scent of wolf and sickness.
He was behind her. Convulsively, she swallowed. On trembling legs she turned.
Up close, she finally got a good look at him. His head was deformed, massive tumors pulling his eyes far apart, sending his jaw askew. Amber eyes held such pain that Daisy felt not solely terror but pity as well. Pity that died when the were snarled and headed for her. A surge lit through Daisy in answer, the strange feeling of power and pressure that throbbed in her belly and down to her fingertips. The ground rumbled for a moment, and then the sharp crackle of rose bushes growing rent the air.
Daisy’s insides quaked. Faster. More. The hard, thorny branches grew up and out, creating a wall around her. The were attacked, running so fast that Daisy’s breath caught. The impact cracked the branches. Knife-sharp claws slashed at the wood, splintering it.
Fear surged through her limbs and her power slipped. The roots faltered. More. Stronger. Focus.
Thorns and branches wrapped tight around werewolf limbs, holding the beast off but not stopping him. One foreleg broke free, and then another. The wolf’s eyes were on her, a promise gleaming in them. Daisy edged back, her heart pounding, her breath caught in a ball of terror in her throat. Desperately, she drew on the feeling within her, and the rose branches snaked out, tangling around the were again and again. But it was not enough. With a bone-shaking howl, the beast writhed and the branches shattered like glass.
Daisy stumbled back, her strength sputtering like an empty lamp. The werewolf stopped and cocked his head as though confused. Daisy’s jaw clenched tight enough to ache before she forced herself to ease, trying to ignore the blood that caked the were’s coat. Talent’s blood. She froze upon the ground, too terrified to do any more but wait.
He limped forward, one foreleg shorter than the other due to his humped back. Light from the house windows hit his molted coat, highlighting the open sores that plagued him and the wounds from the thorns. Quite suddenly, she wanted to cry. This was her future, too. This suffering and deformity.
“You hurt, don’t you?”
Halting, the were whined and shifted his weight from one leg to another. A world of agony lay in its eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice too thin.
His head lowered, yet a growl rumbled in his chest. In a flash, he snapped his teeth at her, snarling and growling.
Her fingers clenched on air. Ian. She wanted Ian. Please let him be on his way. “Let me help you. I want to help you.”
He whined again, his massive head swaying as he cowered. Pain. I feel pain.
Daisy’s heart skipped a beat, for she distinctly heard the words within her head. Licking her dry lips, she tried again. “Let me talk to the man.”
He shuddered violently, keening.
“The man,” she said. “Let him come, and I can help you both.”
The wolf sighed, and his head sank down. The snap and pop of his bones filled the night as he shifted, and Daisy was left staring at a man.
No better off in his human form, his naked, twisted body fell to a heap upon the marble. There he trembled, the sores that covered him weeping and swollen. Disease had destroyed this man, ruining his body and his reason. She feared she might be ill.
A gnarled hand lifted to the massive tumor on his head that had deformed his face into something barely human. A pitiful cry broke from him. “Kill me,” he rasped. Bleary eyes lifted to hers. “I cannot live as this…”
Daisy’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest. “I cannot…”
He snarled, smashing his fist into his skull. “Kill me. Kill me.” He howled, his body rocking. “Pain. Too much.”
Would someone take pity on her were it she who suffered? Did he not deserve compassion? A sob tore from her. “Let me get someone to help you.”
His voice grew thready, his displaced eyes desperate as he looked at her. “You. I want it to be you. Please…” He curled in on himself with a groan. “Please, Lucy. I tried to find you.”
Lucy. He thought she was his love. All this time, he’d been looking for his love. She blinked back her tears.
“These other women… smell of you but were not…” A growl rumbled in his chest and fangs grew. “They were not…”
“But I am here now,” Daisy said quickly, soothing him with her voice and praying he would not notice his mistake. She thought of Alex’s ravaged body and swallowed hard. “What can I do for you?”
“Take my head.”
She blanched. Anything but that.
His breath rattled. “Shred my heart with silver. A knife. I cannot live like this. And it will come back, the madness. The wolf wants to die, too. You promised to help him.”
For a long moment, she could only stare. To kill in cold blood was something beyond her. Yet to live as he did, it was no life. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Again came the hard rolling of her stomach and the urge to cast up her accounts. She took a deep breath. “All right.”
He didn’t stop her as she stumbled away, past Talent, who had either passed out or died. She was too afraid to look. Moving stiffly, she found the butler’s pantry and the silver carving knife within. Her heart beat a fierce tattoo, her mind numb to all thought but one. She might have run away, yet she could not. She would help this man, this harbinger of her fate.
His skin was clammy, his breath a wheezing rattle as she knelt beside him. His eyes, however, were lucid as he gazed up at her. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “For all of it.”
Tears blurred her view of him. “I know.” Extreme pain, tumors, and madness, they were the tools of destruction for those suffering from syphilis. A fate worse than any death. Yet she could not make herself move.
“Not your fault.” His voice was gentle, and when she looked down at him, he touched her arm. “Never was.”
God, he appeared a man no older than thirty. How long had he been like this? Her arm shook so badly that she could barely raise it. Her nerves jumped when his hand closed over hers. His gaze grew dazed. “I only wanted to see you once more, Lucy Love.”
“Of course,” she whispered. “I wanted to see you, too. Rest now. Everything will be all right.”
In the end, it was his strength and her hand that plunged the knife down between his ribs, past muscle, and into the heart. With a hard jerk of his body, he wrenched the knife back and forth, all the while Daisy’s hand caught below his, the hilt of the knife slippery against her skin.
The man took his last breath in a gurgled sigh of blood.
On a cry, she scrambled far away from him and curled up by a ravaged rose bush. Weary to the bone, she rested her head upon her arms and sighed. It was done. For him. Her fear, however, went so deep that she could not think to move.
Her small peace was shattered when the terrace doors slammed open with enough force to send one hanging on its hinge. A scream leaped up in her throat as an enormous brown wolf charged onto the terrace. It skidded to a stop when he spied her. Daisy’s mouth went dry. Dear God, but it was magnificent. This was not the poor, deformed creature she’d help pass on but a full-out wolf, enormous in form, but graceful and proud.
The beast’s thick, auburn coat gleamed with blood, his wild blue eyes intent upon her. And then the bottom fell out of her world. Those eyes. Ian’s eyes. Oh, Ian. She wanted to scream in rage and sorrow. Ian had turned.
Daisy put a hand to her breast to ease the pain there. The wolf growled. She did not move, but her mind raced. She’d spoken to the sick were. The wolf had set the man free. Could she reach Ian? She would. She had to.
“Hello,” she said calmly—a lie for her heart threatened to burst, it pounded so hard. “I know you,” she said slowly, softly. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
The wolf whined, cocking his head a touch. He took a tentative step forward.
“Yes,” she said, pretending that her breath wasn’t ragged, that her fingers did not shake. “Come to me. Let me touch you.”
With a grunt, it moved, a quick lope that had it knocking against her, his big head nudging her shoulder hard. A gasp burst from her, but she did what instinct prompted and threaded her fingers through the dense, coarse hair at the wolf’s neck. The wolf’s eyes narrowed, not in aggression but pleasure.
With a sigh, she stroked his fur. “If you’re here… you must have had to protect Ian.” It was the only reason Daisy could think of. Ian simply wouldn’t lose control of his wolf unless it had been his last choice.
Yes. Save you.
She heard the words inside her heard, and the voice was Ian’s and not. It was rougher, more primal. The wolf’s.
Daisy’s breath caught and her eyes burned. “You’ve done well. So well.”
Save you from the were. Its blue gaze moved past her to rest on the dead man. A keening noise sounded low in the wolf’s throat, and it turned away from the sight as if it pained him.
“I am so proud,” she murmured as the wolf bunted his snout under her chin. The hit rattled her teeth. Before she could move, gentle fangs took hold of her lower jaw. But the wolf did nothing more than hold her still. A claim.
With a smile, she pushed him back. “No more of that.” She was insane, but could only hope the wolf understood. It seemed to, for it simply panted and nudged her once more.
Daisy wrapped her arms around his neck. “Let him come back,” she whispered. “I cannot lose him.”
The wolf whined, and she stroked his fur. “He knows how to set you free again. He will. But I need him now.” The wolf stilled, and her heart thundered. “Ian,” she pled, “come back to me. Come back.”
Lyall was stronger. But an alpha’s will was greater than strength. This conniving bastard would not take another thing from Ian. Conviction rushed like wildfire through his flesh. Without another thought, he burst forward, urgency and need burning his blood. Strength and power as he’d never experienced surged through him with such force that he barely felt the pain lancing his body. On the next breath, he was on four legs, and Lyall was scrambling back.
Free. Free.
His wolf was a shout in his mind. Not his mind anymore, but the wolf’s. And he lay trapped, unable to control his limbs. Panic rose like acid.
Calm.
Oddly, the wolf soothed him. The wolf knew what to do. Daisy. Save her. Kill Lyall. These things were simple in its mind. The wolf would take care of him. He would protect his mate. On a snarl, he flew up and clamped down on Lyall’s neck. His teeth sank past thick fur, into the other were’s tender throat and slicing through the jugular. He shook the dying wolf like a rag, severing his spine, ending his life.
Blood coated his tongue as he let the were drop. The wolf felt a keen surge of victory, but deep in the corners of his mind, the man cried for all that he’d lost. The lycan men around him kneeled, but the wolf didn’t acknowledge them.
He was already running across the lawn, his paws sinking into the grass, his heart threatening to burst. For he knew he would be too late.
It was too quiet. Daisy sat in the chair with her knees drawn up and her arms locked around them. It was a childish pose, but she did not particularly care at the moment. Talent had been gone for too long. There had been no sounds of fighting, no call for her to come out. It was as if he’d up and disappeared. Cursing, she got to her feet and paced the floor. All was silent. Still. Too still. She could not stay here, waiting for whatever it was to come up and claim her.
Going to the French windows that opened up onto a small balcony, she looked out into the dark night. The only light came from the gibbous moon overhead. The marble terrace gleamed icy blue, punctuated here and there by the dark shadows of potted trees. Just beyond lay a wide lawn that stretched down to the glittering river, winking through a row of stately trees.
Ordinarily, she would think it madness to leave a house for the outdoors. Only right now, she felt the moonlight on her face and saw the sway of the tree limbs and felt the call of nature. Out there was her strength. She felt it now just like a rush of warm light through her veins. Out there was where she would be safe. Gathering her skirts with resolve, she went out to the balcony and then hefted herself over the edge. Her footing was sure as she climbed down the trellis. She’d climbed up and down her father’s trellis many times before. The naughty daughter who snuck out at night to carouse in taverns because she craved laughter and life so very much she’d rather take the risk and live it. How she missed being that girl. Emotion clogged her throat as she jumped lightly from the last rung and landed with sure feet.
Creeping along, she made it as far as the middle of the terrace when she realized something was amiss. The coppery tang of blood touched her nose. Walking on heavy feet, she followed the smell to the stairs that led to the garden. Her heel slid a ways as she came sharply to a halt before a black pool of blood on the white marble.
Breath caught in her throat as she slowly turned toward the spill. A scream rose and died on her lips. Talent lay in a heap at the foot of the stairwell. His right arm was a stump, his body ravaged. She thought him dead but he moved as if hearing her. One green eye, bloodied and raw, opened. His lips worked for a moment.
“Run.”
She couldn’t move. Couldn’t leave him to this.
He snarled. “Run!”
As if giving her wings, his command made her fly down the stairs and toward the garden. Her sweaty fingers slipped on her skirts as she lifted them high. A rose garden flanked the sides of the terrace where, in June, the thick, sweet scent of their blooms would surely perfume the air. Now, however, they were merely hard, twisted roots, cut short for the winter. A low, distinct growl stopped her cold on the path. Everything in her went still. Past the thundering of her heart and the panting of her breath came the click of claws upon the marble and the wild, noxious sweet scent of wolf and sickness.
He was behind her. Convulsively, she swallowed. On trembling legs she turned.
Up close, she finally got a good look at him. His head was deformed, massive tumors pulling his eyes far apart, sending his jaw askew. Amber eyes held such pain that Daisy felt not solely terror but pity as well. Pity that died when the were snarled and headed for her. A surge lit through Daisy in answer, the strange feeling of power and pressure that throbbed in her belly and down to her fingertips. The ground rumbled for a moment, and then the sharp crackle of rose bushes growing rent the air.
Daisy’s insides quaked. Faster. More. The hard, thorny branches grew up and out, creating a wall around her. The were attacked, running so fast that Daisy’s breath caught. The impact cracked the branches. Knife-sharp claws slashed at the wood, splintering it.
Fear surged through her limbs and her power slipped. The roots faltered. More. Stronger. Focus.
Thorns and branches wrapped tight around werewolf limbs, holding the beast off but not stopping him. One foreleg broke free, and then another. The wolf’s eyes were on her, a promise gleaming in them. Daisy edged back, her heart pounding, her breath caught in a ball of terror in her throat. Desperately, she drew on the feeling within her, and the rose branches snaked out, tangling around the were again and again. But it was not enough. With a bone-shaking howl, the beast writhed and the branches shattered like glass.
Daisy stumbled back, her strength sputtering like an empty lamp. The werewolf stopped and cocked his head as though confused. Daisy’s jaw clenched tight enough to ache before she forced herself to ease, trying to ignore the blood that caked the were’s coat. Talent’s blood. She froze upon the ground, too terrified to do any more but wait.
He limped forward, one foreleg shorter than the other due to his humped back. Light from the house windows hit his molted coat, highlighting the open sores that plagued him and the wounds from the thorns. Quite suddenly, she wanted to cry. This was her future, too. This suffering and deformity.
“You hurt, don’t you?”
Halting, the were whined and shifted his weight from one leg to another. A world of agony lay in its eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice too thin.
His head lowered, yet a growl rumbled in his chest. In a flash, he snapped his teeth at her, snarling and growling.
Her fingers clenched on air. Ian. She wanted Ian. Please let him be on his way. “Let me help you. I want to help you.”
He whined again, his massive head swaying as he cowered. Pain. I feel pain.
Daisy’s heart skipped a beat, for she distinctly heard the words within her head. Licking her dry lips, she tried again. “Let me talk to the man.”
He shuddered violently, keening.
“The man,” she said. “Let him come, and I can help you both.”
The wolf sighed, and his head sank down. The snap and pop of his bones filled the night as he shifted, and Daisy was left staring at a man.
No better off in his human form, his naked, twisted body fell to a heap upon the marble. There he trembled, the sores that covered him weeping and swollen. Disease had destroyed this man, ruining his body and his reason. She feared she might be ill.
A gnarled hand lifted to the massive tumor on his head that had deformed his face into something barely human. A pitiful cry broke from him. “Kill me,” he rasped. Bleary eyes lifted to hers. “I cannot live as this…”
Daisy’s heart threatened to pound out of her chest. “I cannot…”
He snarled, smashing his fist into his skull. “Kill me. Kill me.” He howled, his body rocking. “Pain. Too much.”
Would someone take pity on her were it she who suffered? Did he not deserve compassion? A sob tore from her. “Let me get someone to help you.”
His voice grew thready, his displaced eyes desperate as he looked at her. “You. I want it to be you. Please…” He curled in on himself with a groan. “Please, Lucy. I tried to find you.”
Lucy. He thought she was his love. All this time, he’d been looking for his love. She blinked back her tears.
“These other women… smell of you but were not…” A growl rumbled in his chest and fangs grew. “They were not…”
“But I am here now,” Daisy said quickly, soothing him with her voice and praying he would not notice his mistake. She thought of Alex’s ravaged body and swallowed hard. “What can I do for you?”
“Take my head.”
She blanched. Anything but that.
His breath rattled. “Shred my heart with silver. A knife. I cannot live like this. And it will come back, the madness. The wolf wants to die, too. You promised to help him.”
For a long moment, she could only stare. To kill in cold blood was something beyond her. Yet to live as he did, it was no life. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. Again came the hard rolling of her stomach and the urge to cast up her accounts. She took a deep breath. “All right.”
He didn’t stop her as she stumbled away, past Talent, who had either passed out or died. She was too afraid to look. Moving stiffly, she found the butler’s pantry and the silver carving knife within. Her heart beat a fierce tattoo, her mind numb to all thought but one. She might have run away, yet she could not. She would help this man, this harbinger of her fate.
His skin was clammy, his breath a wheezing rattle as she knelt beside him. His eyes, however, were lucid as he gazed up at her. “I am sorry,” he whispered. “For all of it.”
Tears blurred her view of him. “I know.” Extreme pain, tumors, and madness, they were the tools of destruction for those suffering from syphilis. A fate worse than any death. Yet she could not make herself move.
“Not your fault.” His voice was gentle, and when she looked down at him, he touched her arm. “Never was.”
God, he appeared a man no older than thirty. How long had he been like this? Her arm shook so badly that she could barely raise it. Her nerves jumped when his hand closed over hers. His gaze grew dazed. “I only wanted to see you once more, Lucy Love.”
“Of course,” she whispered. “I wanted to see you, too. Rest now. Everything will be all right.”
In the end, it was his strength and her hand that plunged the knife down between his ribs, past muscle, and into the heart. With a hard jerk of his body, he wrenched the knife back and forth, all the while Daisy’s hand caught below his, the hilt of the knife slippery against her skin.
The man took his last breath in a gurgled sigh of blood.
On a cry, she scrambled far away from him and curled up by a ravaged rose bush. Weary to the bone, she rested her head upon her arms and sighed. It was done. For him. Her fear, however, went so deep that she could not think to move.
Her small peace was shattered when the terrace doors slammed open with enough force to send one hanging on its hinge. A scream leaped up in her throat as an enormous brown wolf charged onto the terrace. It skidded to a stop when he spied her. Daisy’s mouth went dry. Dear God, but it was magnificent. This was not the poor, deformed creature she’d help pass on but a full-out wolf, enormous in form, but graceful and proud.
The beast’s thick, auburn coat gleamed with blood, his wild blue eyes intent upon her. And then the bottom fell out of her world. Those eyes. Ian’s eyes. Oh, Ian. She wanted to scream in rage and sorrow. Ian had turned.
Daisy put a hand to her breast to ease the pain there. The wolf growled. She did not move, but her mind raced. She’d spoken to the sick were. The wolf had set the man free. Could she reach Ian? She would. She had to.
“Hello,” she said calmly—a lie for her heart threatened to burst, it pounded so hard. “I know you,” she said slowly, softly. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”
The wolf whined, cocking his head a touch. He took a tentative step forward.
“Yes,” she said, pretending that her breath wasn’t ragged, that her fingers did not shake. “Come to me. Let me touch you.”
With a grunt, it moved, a quick lope that had it knocking against her, his big head nudging her shoulder hard. A gasp burst from her, but she did what instinct prompted and threaded her fingers through the dense, coarse hair at the wolf’s neck. The wolf’s eyes narrowed, not in aggression but pleasure.
With a sigh, she stroked his fur. “If you’re here… you must have had to protect Ian.” It was the only reason Daisy could think of. Ian simply wouldn’t lose control of his wolf unless it had been his last choice.
Yes. Save you.
She heard the words inside her heard, and the voice was Ian’s and not. It was rougher, more primal. The wolf’s.
Daisy’s breath caught and her eyes burned. “You’ve done well. So well.”
Save you from the were. Its blue gaze moved past her to rest on the dead man. A keening noise sounded low in the wolf’s throat, and it turned away from the sight as if it pained him.
“I am so proud,” she murmured as the wolf bunted his snout under her chin. The hit rattled her teeth. Before she could move, gentle fangs took hold of her lower jaw. But the wolf did nothing more than hold her still. A claim.
With a smile, she pushed him back. “No more of that.” She was insane, but could only hope the wolf understood. It seemed to, for it simply panted and nudged her once more.
Daisy wrapped her arms around his neck. “Let him come back,” she whispered. “I cannot lose him.”
The wolf whined, and she stroked his fur. “He knows how to set you free again. He will. But I need him now.” The wolf stilled, and her heart thundered. “Ian,” she pled, “come back to me. Come back.”
