Читать книгу: «The Wolf Prince»

The kiss she’d shared with Ruben had rocked her world.

Since Willow had never kissed anyone before, she didn’t know if it was always like this. So intense. So powerful.

And when she’d felt his body swell with desire, her womanly parts had come alive. She’d wanted him, in a gut-wrenching, visceral way.

Apparently he hadn’t felt the same.

The sense of loss that had come over her when Ruben had turned away had been shattering. Used to hiding her inner pain, she’d gathered her shredded dignity around her like a cloak, glad she’d been able to look calm and relatively normal when he’d finally turned back to her.

When they’d first stepped into her world, she’d let the peace of the woods surround her. As usual, the sounds and scents of the forest were a calming, balm upon her troubled soul.

But her sense of tranquillity was only fleeting as she forced herself to remember why they were there. Into this beauty, a killer had gone.

About the Author

KAREN WHIDDON started weaving fanciful tales for her younger brothers at the age of eleven. Amidst the Catskill Mountains of New York, then the Rocky Mountains of Colorado, she fueled her imagination with the natural beauty that surrounded her. Karen now lives in north Texas, where she shares her life with her very own hero of a husband and three doting dogs. Also an entrepreneur, she divides her time between the business she started and writing. You can email Karen at kwhiddon1@aol.com or write to her at PO Box 820807, Fort Worth, TX 76182, USA. Fans of her writing can also check out her website, www.karenwhiddon.com.

The Wolf Prince
Karen Whiddon

www.millsandboon.co.uk

As always, to my husband and my daughter. My family. You are and always will be everything to me.

Chapter 1

As dusk settled over the land like a tattered cloak, Prince Ruben of Teslinko stood alone in the crumbling, condemned tower of his ancestral home and wondered if madness had finally come to claim him.

If not yet madness, then complete blackness of soul. Worse, he could see no way out. He was trapped, as surely as a wild animal caught in a snare.

At the thought, his inner wolf snarled. The beast had been furious as of late, clamoring for him to shape-shift, to change. Stubbornly deliberate, Ruben had remained human for two entire days now. Normal for most Shifters. As for him, forty-eight hours felt like a death sentence.

If only death could come so easily.

Again, the black thoughts. Nothing would help him. Nothing save changing, letting his beast take over once more. Each time, he remained wolf longer and longer, having to battle the wolf inside to shift back to human. And then once he had … he wanted to die.

He’d lost control. More than that. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t seem to regain that part of himself he’d given over to the wolf. The human part, necessary to survive in the kingdom of his parents, the world of his people. Something had broken inside him and he didn’t know how to fix it. Being human felt like how an addict must feel without the drug. Craving it, shaking, unable to sleep, or eat, or function.

He was damaged, ruined, borderline insane. And he—or rather his wolf—didn’t care. Always, the idea of changing, of remaining wolf, beckoned like a glittery bauble forever out of reach. The struggle to keep from giving in grew more and more difficult, compounded by the fact that he really did not care. He’d rather be wolf than human. And though he knew this was considered wrong, it was the way he felt.

Worse, he could only think of one reason why he should try to repair his damaged psyche, because he sure as hell would rather stay wolf than man. But as his father’s sole heir, the fate of his bloodline rested squarely on him. Unless his hidden madness overwhelmed him, Prince Ruben would rule Teslinko one day. Therefore, he couldn’t give in to his deepest, darkest desire and vanish into the vast forests surrounding his father’s lands. Forever to walk on four legs instead of two.

Even the thought made his insides quiver with longing.

Damn it.

Rather than pace the confined space, stepping carefully to avoid the crumbling stones and gaping holes, Ruben gripped the stone window ledge so hard his knuckles turned white. Breathing rapidly, he watched as vehicle after vehicle snaked up the winding, ancient road toward the royal castle. Not to the old part where he now hid, but the sleek, renovated, modern building where his family resided.

No one but Ruben ever visited the decrepit ruins. He preferred it this way, relishing his solitude over the hundred irritating daily tasks a royal prince must perform.

He counted this night among those onerous duties.

His parents, King Leo and Queen Ionna of Teslinko, were having a huge ball. Tonight, and again one week from tonight, and once more a fortnight from tonight, and so on. As long as it took, they had said, making no secret as to their reason. Now that his sisters, including Alisa had been married, all eyes had turned to Ruben, the youngest child and, as the only male, the royal heir. His parents had decided Ruben needed to settle down and produce an heir of his own. This event would be the first of the many it took to find him a suitable wife.

Which was the absolute last thing he wanted.

Ruben could have told his parents they were wasting their time. But as much as he loved them, he was well aware of their shortcomings. They heard only what they wanted to hear, steadfastly refusing to believe their only son could do any wrong.

He certainly hadn’t told them of the dark cloud that had settled over him. They weren’t aware of the possibility of his encroaching madness, nor that he’d reached a decision never to marry. How could he, when he could be a danger to anyone who got too close to him?

So he’d suffer through who-knew-how-many balls, dances or parties, all the while hoping for a miracle that would likely never come. Pity he didn’t believe in either magic or divine intervention.

These days Ruben didn’t believe in much of anything. Least of all, in his ability to lead his people.

Below his vantage point, a door closed and a woman’s bright laughter trilled through the air, drawing his attention. They came alone and in groups, every young, marriageable woman in Teslinko and beyond. Dressed to impress, they chattered and giggled and plotted. Though he despised the label, he knew he was known far and wide as the catch of the season. Therefore he could, in theory, have his pick of gorgeous, desirable and well-connected women. Sadly, he wasn’t interested, not in the least. He had too many issues to burden anyone else with them.

Of course, unaware of this, his parents plunged full-steam ahead in their plans of finding him a mate. Shifter or human, they’d told him they’d be happy as long as he was happy. They had no idea that happiness for him was an unattainable goal.

A party only made him feel worse rather than better. And what a gala this would be. For this event, the royal decorator had spared no expense. A hundred thousand tiny lights illuminated the trees, the drive and the entrance.

Glumly, he continued to stare down at the festive scene below as more and more guests arrived. How many were there? From what he’d seen so far, he’d guess at least two or three hundred single women, all fixated on the same goal. Him.

Inside, his wolf stirred, intrigued by the variety of new scents and sounds. The beast wanted to be set free to investigate. As always, the notion tempted him.

No. He shook his head, mentally pushing his wolf back into a cage and locking the door. Once finished, his chest ached with the familiar and now forbidden longing. Better if he could simply shape-shift into wolf and never change back to human. At least this impending madness didn’t seem to bother his lupine self.

And there it was. Again. Temptation. If he valued what was left of his mind, he knew he could not give in.

Watching as expensive car after expensive car rolled up the drive and disgorged its contents, he sighed. He’d better go change and prepare to do his time. If he was lucky, he could snag a couple of glasses of strong Scotch to help him survive the ordeal.

Trudging through the forest, the watered silk of her best formal dress bunched up in her fist, Willow of the SouthWard Brights tried to think happy thoughts. Because she couldn’t take a chance on getting dirty, she ignored the siren call of the wild animals watching her from their various hiding places around the thick forest.

All she’d have to do was crook her little finger and whistle, and they’d come. When they were with her, carnivores ignored their natural prey, and the most skittish of beasts calmed under her gentle hand.

It was a gift and one she had kept hidden, by necessity. The one time she’d tried to tell her mother, she’d been treated with scorn and derision. After that, she’d supposed everyone else would view her gift the same way, so she had kept it secret. Not only from the rest of her family, but from everyone in the kingdom. In a place where the level of magical ability meant power, Willow’s was a secret best kept inside.

Just like the tear in the veil.

She’d discovered the portal by accident a year ago while on one of her solitary strolls through the forest. Just because she didn’t cast spells or use magic like her mother and sister, didn’t mean she couldn’t sense it. And the lure of the shimmering veil had drawn her as surely as a bear to honey.

With it, she could cross between her world and that of the humans. She’d taken advantage of this numerous times in the months since, yet another secret she held close to her breast.

She quite enjoyed her anonymity in the human world. There, no one knew she was a princess. No one thought she looked different or looked down on her because she was lacking in magic.

A loner by nature, Willow had few friends among her kind. With a rueful smile, she stepped over a fallen log. Make that no friends. At least, not among her people—the Bright.

Forcing herself to focus on the present, she felt the siren thrum of the magic as she approached the veil. Her heartbeat quickened and the scents of the forest became sharper, more intense. Damp earth and plant, and the slightly acrid, barely detectable scent of its animal inhabitants.

As she neared the shimmering space, she felt an unfamiliar tickle of anticipation.

The royal family of Teslinko was having a ball. Tonight, in fact. According to the chatter she’d picked up hanging around near their castle, they’d been preparing for the huge event for weeks. Rumor had it that the king and queen were determined to find their son, Prince Ruben, a bride.

Willow cared about none of that. As the youngest—and least desirable—daughter of a powerful queen, she had her own worries about that area. According to her older—and much more beautiful—sister, Tatiana, Willow would remain unwed the rest of her natural-born, magic-less life.

Which, though occasionally sounding lonely, was all right with Willow.

Growing closer to the veil, she felt the pull of its magic. She took a deep breath, then another, allowing herself to feel the power of the ancient earth gathering under her feet and the rush of air swirling around this, an opening between worlds.

Ahead, in a clearing between two tall ash trees, the space flickered, odd shapes sparkling through a fog, as though one might be able to see them if one turned quickly enough. The magic was strong here, visible even to the untrained eye. Briefly she wondered how it was that a hapless human hadn’t managed to wander straight into it and wind up among the land of the Bright—her home.

Maybe, because the power felt so odd, humans instinctively avoided this area.

Shaking her head at the absurdity of it all, Willow stepped into the shimmering veil and gave herself over to the magic.

Bored, drifting from one cluster of simpering women to another, trying not to gag on the choke of their strong perfume, Ruben glanced at his watch for the twentieth time and wondered how long he needed to stay. At least until the meal had been served, he estimated grimly. Naturally, the dinner service was a drawn out process that could take as long as two and a half hours. So for now, he was stuck.

His mother, Queen Ionna, had already taken him by the arm and dragged him around the crowded room, introducing him to what seemed like every unmarried woman under the age of forty. He’d taken care to be pleasant, nothing more, well aware of his mother’s displeasure when he didn’t choose one female to single out for his attentions.

He suspected several of the women were disappointed as well, though most took care not to show this. There were so many of them, women of every shape and size. Young and old, virgin and widow, his skin crawled as each eyed him as eagerly as if he were a prize stud up for auction to the highest bidder.

Which in a way, he supposed he was. His sister Alisa had often complained about this very thing. Aware of her tendency toward the dramatic, he’d never taken her complaints seriously. Now that she’d been married off and his parents’ focus had turned to him, he’d begun to see her point.

Restless, his wolf tested the edge of his control. Gritting his teeth, Ruben forced the beast back into his mental cage, a task growing more and more difficult.

At the thought, a wild longing swept him, freezing him in his tracks. To run free. Wild. As he pushed the desire away, he swore he could feel his wolf’s savage amusement.

Not good. So not good.

The evening was early yet, the music soft and the food and drink plentiful. He eyed the guests lingering over their cocktails, standing in clusters and conversing about financial markets, the latest fashions or the employment crisis in other nations. All topics which held zero interest for him.

He’d already downed two strong Scotch-and-waters and now sipped his third. Mildly intoxicated, he was well aware that he had to slow down if he wanted to keep the wolf at bay and the darkness inside him from leaking out. Wouldn’t do, he thought cynically, if the guests were to realize the heir to the throne grappled with bouts of insanity. The humans would be horrified and the Shifters … they’d be appalled. He could imagine the varied reactions. He wouldn’t be regarded as such a catch then.

Again, he nearly smiled, his wolf pacing restlessly, full of nervous energy. The idea almost sounded … good to him. Proof positive how unbalanced he’d become.

In the crowded ballroom, Shifters and humans mingled, the majority of the humans unaware that there were those among them who could change into a wolf at will. His boredom growing, Ruben began picturing their reactions if he were to calmly stroll out to the middle of the empty dance floor, strip off his tuxedo and drop to all fours to initiate the change that would turn his human form into that of a huge, nearly Feral, wolf.

Panic from the humans. His wolf snarled, enjoying the mental image. From his own kind, the Shifters, he expected he’d see a mixture of shock, anger and disgust.

His parents would be mortified. After the first moment of horror, the damage control would begin in earnest.

The thought made him smile again, a record as of late. Again, the idea felt tantalizing. As if he could close his eyes, let his tattered willpower fall away, and allow events to happen as they would. His wolf would take over. Everything would be out of Ruben’s hands.

So simple … He swayed, tempted. Snapping his eyes open, he took another slug of the strong liquor, letting it burn its way down his throat.

And therein lay the twisted path to madness.

Giving himself an inner shake, putting a choke hold on the furious wolf inside, he again began to make another circuit of the room, trying to regulate his breathing, his thoughts, his steps. As he looked up, he noted his mother’s sharp gaze fixed on him.

Inhaling the mixed odors of perfume and human sweat, he shuddered, longing for the clean, crisp scent of the pines, the damp muskiness of the earth. The lure of the forest beyond the castle, where he spent so much of his time, pulled at him, though he knew part of that was tied up in his wolf’s desire to break free.

While he strolled about, gritting his teeth and hiding his indifference, inside his wolf snarled and paced and raged. Ignoring the capricious beast took effort, but he managed. He wanted nothing more than to disappear into the ruins at the edge of the forest, but he fixed what he hoped was a pleasant expression on his face and attempted to socialize.

His mother’s earlier decree replayed in his head. Find a wife. You are heir to the throne. It’s long past time you settled down. Marry. Have children.

His absolute worst nightmare. No, he paused, twirling the ice inside his almost empty glass. His second worst nightmare.

And the women. Every one of them made no attempt to hide their hope that he’d chose them. They smiled and simpered and tried to seduce him, but he barely gave any even a cursory glance. Despite their varying beauty, none of them interested him. He knew many of them, had run into them at one event or another over the years. Some he’d grown up with, played childhood games alongside, and even stolen his first kiss from while hidden in a high-walled garden and thrilling at the forbidden taste. He sighed with annoyance. Such memories were a thing of the past.

Of late, he’d lived the life of a monk, abstaining from all feminine companionship. Another attempt to keep the darkness that haunted him secret.

Glancing at his watch, he prayed this night would be over.

And then, as fate played some sort of ironic trick on him, he saw her from across the room. Unfamiliar, tiny, exquisite, the dusky rose of her skin faintly shimmering with life. Desire stabbed him, sharp and strong and so gut-wrenchingly powerful even his wolf was stunned into silence.

Unlike the others, who resembled overdressed peacocks, she wore a simple long sheath in a muted yellow, devoid of ornamentation or jangle. Head high, smooth shoulders back, she carried herself with the unconscious bearing of royalty. Though he could tell from her lack of aura that she was not Pack, he found himself wondering if she was even human. Something about her …

Damn and double damn. He swayed, wondering if he’d had more to drink than he’d thought.

For the first time in a long time, his wolf approved. Though he’d not yet taken measure of her scent, the beast wanted to mate with her.

Letting his wolf guide him, he began moving toward her, determined to claim her as his.

When their gazes met, every jangling noise inside Willow went still. Who was he? What was he? Whatever he was, he wasn’t human. The darkness emanating from him drew her. She wondered if this was because of her secret Shadow heritage or if, as always, the part of her that was Bright felt a compulsion to bring light to the faintest bit of darkness.

Of course, since she had no magic, she never could. But that didn’t stop the longing.

As he began to move toward her, certain and sure and clearly determined to reach her, she panicked. Glancing left, then right, she quickly calculated an escape route and tried to leap toward it. She didn’t know if she was afraid because she’d crashed his party, or because he was so damn beautiful. She went with her gut reaction to flee. However, she’d completely forgotten about her long skirt and high heels, and as a result, she stumbled and nearly fell.

Miraculously, she caught herself. Casting a quick glance over her shoulder—he was drawing impossibly closer—she slipped in between two groups of women and hurried away. Keeping to the most crowded part of the room, she weaved her way toward a balcony she noticed on the other side.

Finally there, she opened the French style door and slipped out into the cool darkness, lit by the brightness of the full moon. Safe, at least for now.

As she gripped the iron railing, she wasn’t surprised to note her hands were trembling.

Inhaling the sharp, fresh air, she wondered when she’d become such a coward. Behind her the door opened with a click. Even though she’d remained in the shadows, she knew he’d found her, even before he spoke.

“I’m not dangerous, you know.” The husky-as-sin voice sounded exactly that. Dangerous as hell.

Slowly she raised her head. Years of experience at her parents’ court enabled her to put a pleasantly surprised expression on her face. “I think if you feel the need to even say such a thing, then you must be very unsafe indeed.”

When his smile came, the sight of it made her pulse race. She futilely tried to get her now scattered bearings, when he spoke again.

“Walk with me.” He held out his arm, his words a command rather than a request.

She swallowed hard and tried to think. This she hadn’t planned for. She gazed up at him, a dark figure of a man with powerful shoulders and broad chest, and her mouth went dry. Blindly she reached out and took his hand. The roughness of it gave her an unwanted sense of protection. She glanced down at their entwined hands and realized his fingers were beautiful—long and strong and oddly graceful, like those of an artist.

“Who are you?” she asked, finding her voice.

“Ruben,” he answered simply, his dark gaze locked on hers. Despite herself, she shivered.

“Don’t be afraid,” he murmured.

At that, she straightened her shoulders. She might be many things, but coward was not one of them. “I’m not,” she said, wondering why the words felt like a lie.

He gave her hand a gentle tug. Moving with him out onto the terrace, when they reached the balcony that in daylight would look out over the lush and green forest, she let go of him, taking a small step sideways to keep their bodies from touching. He didn’t react to this, gripping the smooth marble rail and staring straight ahead, almost as if he’d forgotten she was there.

Together they stood, side by side, gazing out over the darkness toward the mountains, the silence growing between them. The faint swell of music from inside provided background noise. She fought the urge to fidget or to speak, simply to hear the sound of her own voice.

Evidently, despite the way he’d sought her out, he had nothing to say to her. Just like she was back at home, the ugly younger sister. Though she knew she ought to be used to it by now, it still hurt.

Turning to face him, she lifted her chin and flashed a carefully casual smile. “I have to go,” she said, no trace of regret in her voice.

Tall and straight, he swung his head to gaze down at her. “Please, not yet. Stay with me a little longer. Please.”

Though his husky voice simmered with enough sensuality to make her feel dizzy, she suspected he might be toying with her. Though for what reason, she couldn’t tell.

“Why?”

“A simple enough question.” He sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “Though my answer is more complicated. I’m the prince.”

“The prince?” she repeated, shocked.

“Yes. This—” he waved one hand “—This is all for me. My parents’ idea of a good time. They’re putting me through ball after endless ball, all to find me a wife.”

At the word, he gave an exaggerated shudder, making her laugh despite herself. “I take it you don’t like the idea?”

“That would be a major understatement. I don’t want to marry.” Casually, he placed his hand on her shoulder. Despite the heavy material of the dress, she felt the heat of his beautiful fingers and had to fight not to lean into him. To be able to choose one’s own fate … now that was a luxury she wished she had.

“Me, either.” She sighed, unwillingly reminded of the unknown prince her parents had promised her to.

“You never told me your name,” he said.

Since she now realized the man, this prince, rather, needed a friend rather than a date, she relaxed. “Willow.”

His disheveled dark hair gleamed in the lights from inside. “That’s an unusual name.”

More at ease now, she grinned up at him. “I’m an unusual person.”

As he continued to gaze at her without responding, she felt her face heat. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m not really good at flirting.” The words came out in a rush.

He shrugged. “Who is? I’d rather run in the woods.”

At his words, she couldn’t help but silently agree. How could this be possible? He’d unknowingly echoed her earlier thoughts. “You run in the woods? Me, too, though I roam more than run. I love the forest.”

He grinned, devastating her, and then he laughed, the deep, rich masculine sound curling around her like a shawl.

“Come with me.” Again, he held out his hand.

This time, instead of blindly accepting, she shook her head. “First, tell me where we’re going.”

Gravely, he regarded her, the flickering interior lights casting shadows on his craggy features. “To dance, of course.”

And just like that, he made her want him. So intensely her entire being ached with it.

“Let’s go,” she said, surprised her voice didn’t crack.

As they entered through the French doors, the band had begun to play a waltz, as if on cue. Because her mother had seen to it that Willow had received the same dance lessons as her sister, she knew all the steps.

He swept her into his arms and she had to remind herself how to breathe.

In that instant, she felt sharply the loss of every magical power she’d never had. Because dancing with Ruben was all that and more. He was tall and fit, his broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist. By the laws of physics, he should have been clumsy, a stumbling bear of a man. Instead, he moved with the grace of a born athlete. Women watched them enviously. And the men … the men eyed her, wondering no doubt why such a beautiful man wasted time on such a skinny and frumpy girl.

“They all want you,” he rumbled in her ear, making her start. At his playful words, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“I know,” she murmured back, enjoying the joke. “How could they not want the one who can get the prince to dance?”

He peered down at her, mischief making his eyes sparkle. “You’re right about that, you know. I haven’t danced at a single one of these things since I was twelve.”

“Why not?” The instant she asked the question, she knew the answer. A man who’d rather be running in the wild forest would eschew dances and banquets and all the other social nonsense that came with being royalty. She should know. She was exactly the same way, though no doubt for dissimilar reasons.

Still, this was different, somehow. Her beautiful skirt floated around her ankles and she felt as if she were gliding on air.

They’d barely begun—this time a fox-trot—when someone screamed, a shrill sound of absolute panic. As Willow, along with everyone else, turned to look, the rear of the ballroom exploded.

Chapter 2

The blast knocked them to the ground. Instinctively, Ruben tried to direct his fall to protect the unique woman who’d allowed him to spend the evening with her.

Willow. Hellhounds, he hoped she was all right. Ears ringing, he called her name, even as he hauled her to her feet amid the debris raining down on them.

She sagged against him, causing his heart to skip a beat. So tiny, her bones. He cupped her soot-covered chin in his hand and lifted her face to his. Her amazing caramel-colored eyes were open, if dazed. Alive. Relatively unhurt, as far as he could tell.

Relief flooding him, he slipped his arm around her impossibly small waist, helping her to steady herself.

“Are you okay?”

She opened her mouth to speak, and then licked her cracked lips instead, drawing his gaze. “I think so,” she finally croaked, sounding uncertain. Tentatively, she moved, testing her joints, and finally shook her head. “At least, I don’t hurt anywhere.”

She wasn’t bleeding, so for now he had no choice but to take her words for truth. As he turned away, there was another explosion, this one smaller and farther away.

Damn. His guests … his family … his home.

Releasing her, he turned to survey the damage, praying there were no fatalities. Several people were still down. Smoke rapidly began to fill the room, which meant there was a fire nearby. Flash. Another mini-explosion. Hell, he didn’t see his parents anywhere. The sounds—moans and wails and crying, fire crackling, something— What? Dripping? Smoke, more smoke. The tainted air grew rapidly difficult to breathe. How many were injured? How many were … dead? Hounds. He hoped none.

Need. To. Move. Now.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve got to help get everyone out. Are you well enough to assist me?”

Blinking, she nodded. The effort seemed to make her dizzy, as she swayed on her feet. Ruben cursed under his breath. He couldn’t leave her, but he wasn’t sure if dragging her around with him was the best idea, either.

At this point, he didn’t really have a choice. She wasn’t seriously hurt, so she either had to help or take herself to safety.

A prince’s first responsibility was toward his people. His family. His home. Damn and double damn.

“Come on.” Taking her arm, he led her through the thickening smoke toward the closest group of people, with the intent of leaving her with them. Most had scrambled back to their feet; those could make their way out, to safety.

Near them, several lay still on the floor, unmoving.

Ruben’s stomach lurched as he dropped to his knees next to an older man he recognized from court. So many people hadn’t yet risen. He didn’t dare think that they might not be alive. This man—George something or other—blinked and lifted his head, gray hair tinted red with blood. Hurt, but alive. Ruben helped him to his feet, pointing him and the others who were able to move toward the door.

The next several minutes—hours?—passed in a blur. Though he’d had to resort to crawling under the smoke, Ruben managed to get from group to group, with Willow surprisingly right alongside him. She’d refused to leave for safety with the others.

As they led more and more people toward the door, her strength appeared to improve rapidly, for which he was thankful. Together they tended to the wounded, helping people who’d been stunned by the blast to their feet, assisting others in moving their wounded outside, where it was safer area.

Gasping for air, three times they had led groups of people toward the door, coughing and hacking all the way. They couldn’t stay much longer. The smoke had grown so thick everyone was getting disoriented.

Was everyone out? He still had not seen his parents, which chilled his blood. He knew his father and if King Leo had been able to move, he would have worked tirelessly to save his people. Ruben prayed the older man worked in another part of the castle, or even better, outside doctoring the wounded. He couldn’t stop long enough to search for him.

With time of the essence, Ruben grabbed several of the palace guards to help him drag the wounded outside, away from danger. This helped speed things up. Soon, the smoke-filled room emptied and, gasping for air, Ruben finally staggered outside and collapsed on the grass.

While he tried to suck in enough air to his burning lungs, Ruben pushed away the hated and eerie feeling of déjà vu. This had happened before, when his sister Alisa and her now husband Braden were here. Bombs had gone off inside the palace. Then, many had supposed the attacks were targeted at Dr. Streib, Alisa’s husband who’d initially traveled to Teslinko to do research on her.

But over time, they’d learned differently. The bombings hadn’t been directed at the American doctor. Rather, the royal family had been targeted by a group of extremists, those who claimed they felt more connected to their wolf selves and believed remaining human for longer than a week or two was an abomination to their true natures. Only Alisa had known how much Ruben was like them, though he didn’t share their propensity for violence. Their methods, which involved violence such as bombings, were deadly. They believed such things would draw attention to their cause.

Their cause, as he knew better than most, was futile. Shifters could not stay wolf without losing their mind. Until recently, the Society of the Protectors had been dispatched to bring in Feral Shifters for rehabilitation. Those who had refused, or were deemed too mad, had been eliminated. Fortunately, that barbaric practice had been outlawed.

Still, everyone knew about the limitations placed on changing. Everyone except these extremists. Considering what had happened to him when he had tried to stay wolf more than human, he couldn’t help but wonder what sort of madness drove them.

Their bombs killed and maimed, accomplishing nothing but death and destruction, but still they persevered. The royal family of Teslinko had taken precautions to prevent this from ever happening again, but evidently those hadn’t been enough.

More death. More destruction. Senseless.

Shoving his thoughts to the back of his mind, Ruben summoned his last reserves of strength and began checking on his people. Now that they were out of the ballroom and safe, minor injuries could be attended to. Water was found and distributed and Ruben accepted a bottle gratefully, draining it in several gulps. He wished it did more to soothe his raw throat, but this would have to heal with time.

As he made his way through the throngs of people, Willow remained silently at his side, patching up the wounded, providing a slender shoulder when needed. Though she was covered in soot, her beautiful gown ruined, she worked tirelessly, selflessly, earning his gratitude and his admiration.

Finally, he thought everyone had been helped. As far as he could tell, they might have saved them all. With no casualties—at least that he knew of. All of the ones who’d been knocked out were all right.

He had yet to find his parents. Wearily, he pushed himself up off the grass. Willow looked at him quizzically, her exhaustion evident by the dark circles under her eyes. They had to be safe, he thought, seeing numerous members of the King’s personal guard milling about. If something had happened to either the king or queen, no matter how minor, there would have been an outcry and someone would have been sent to fetch him.

Finally, he found one of their assistants who, wide-eyed from shock, stuttered as he assured Ruben that the royal couple was fine. Apparently they’d been in another part of the palace when the explosion had occurred. They were now ministering to the servants and the most gravely injured.

Another part of the palace. Hearing this had brought a slight smile to his face, the first since the explosion. Even after all these years spent together, his parents were still deeply in love and were known to sneak off in the middle of a gala to grab some together time. He—along with all his sisters—used to find that mortifying. Lately, he’d viewed their amorous behavior more tolerantly, even finding it amusing.

This time he breathed a sigh of relief, believing this proclivity to sneak away to spend private time with each other might have saved their lives.

Relieved, he returned to his place on the grass by Willow and watched as a team of firefighters from the village worked frantically, attempting to put out the flames. Still, part of the ballroom continued to burn, the flames flickering, roaring hungrily and sending billows of thick smoke into the night sky.

Finally, the fire was extinguished. One last dousing of water had been sprayed. The remains of the ballroom were coated in watery soot and the sour odor of smoke still curdled the air.

Shoulders rounded with exhaustion, the firefighters silently put away their equipment and prepared to return to the village.

As he pushed again to his feet, Ruben realized he was exhausted. Even his wolf had slunk back deep inside him. He glanced at Willow to find she also stood at his side, clearly equally done in, yet uncomplaining.

When he turned to face her, she stumbled, nearly going to her knees. Easily he caught her, relishing the feel of her against him before setting her on her feet.

“I think we’re done.” Hand at her elbow, where soot made the material a dirty grayish black, he steadied her and smoothed her smoky, ash-covered hair back from her face. “Thank you so much for your help. We did a lot of good tonight. There was no loss of life.”

Appearing distracted, she nodded, biting her lip, almost as though she was on the verge of tears. Swaying, she glanced at all the people huddled together in various groups. Then, lifting her hand in a gesture that seemed a halfhearted wave, she staggered away. She weaved slightly and headed down a winding, cobbled path that led only toward an old stone bench which sat alone in a secluded arbor.

This bench had once been one of his sister Alisa’s favorite places. She’d gone there when she’d needed solitude in order to think. No one had used it since Alisa had gotten married and gone to America with her new husband. Following Willow, he wondered how she’d known how to find it.

With only the full moon shining in the cloudless night sky providing light, she rounded the final bend in the path. Then, smoothing her ruined skirt, she took a seat on the bench. As he came up on her, she gave him a tired smile. “Sorry. I couldn’t bear the smell of the smoke any longer.”

He nodded his understanding. With a sigh, she patted the space beside her for him to drop down next to her.

He did and they sat, shoulders touching, silently contemplating the night. Again he marveled at the way she’d helped for hours, uncomplaining or expecting any kind of preferential treatment normally given to a beautiful woman in a ball gown. A stranger, she hadn’t run from the chaos but rather dove right in to help people she clearly didn’t know.

In short, if he’d thought her amazing before, this was doubly so now. His feelings had expanded to a sort of exhausted wonder. How could she be both so lovely and so … good? Chest tight, he gazed at her, finding her soot-stained face extraordinarily beautiful.

“What time is it?” she asked him, her voice still raspy from the smoke.

He glanced at his watch, unsurprised to find that it would soon be morning, despite the huge moon hanging in the western night sky. “Four a.m. Can you believe the sun will be rising in a few hours?” he mused. “What a night. And I still have to make a statement to the authorities.”

At his words, she inhaled sharply, sitting up straight. “Four?”

Wide-eyed, she pushed to her feet, her movements still unsteady. She glanced at him before looking out at the still-dark forest beyond the castle. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go,” she told him. Was that the faintest note of panic he heard in her voice?

He rose with her, eyeing her curiously. She’d been calm before, in the face of disaster. And now, panicked at the idea of being late, she seemed like a different woman.

“I’ll vouch for you,” he told her. “Sit back down. I’m sure whoever is waiting for you will understand.”

“I doubt it.” Glancing wildly around her, as if she expected someone to jump out of the shadows and grab her, she gathered her shredded composure about her like a cloak. Dipping her chin formally, she mustered up a shaky smile. “It was very nice to meet you, Prince Ruben. I’m sorry that your party didn’t turn out as well as you’d hoped.”

And then, as he tried to process her remark, she leaped away like a wild animal, without a backward glance, and took off running into the dark woods.

Mind muddled with exhaustion, Ruben considered her retreat blankly. What the …? By the time he took a step to follow her, she’d vanished from sight, disappearing into the forest.

But why? The way she’d gone led to nothing but wilderness. The nearest town was in the opposite direction.

From the castle, someone shouted his name. The authorities must have arrived and they needed him to make a statement. Duty called. Reluctantly, he turned and headed back along the way he’d come.

The local police—along with the media—had indeed arrived. Amid the red and blue lights and the flash of cameras, a cluster of reporters had gathered to await the official statement.

Waving at them, Ruben again went looking for his father. Usually the king handled press conferences, though Ruben would do so if needed.

The Captain of the Royal Guard, a large, dark skinned Pack member named Drake, informed him that the king would indeed deal with the press. He’d asked Ruben to tie up any loose ends before he did so.

Though it was nearly morning and he was weary to his bones, Ruben took care of business. While he conferred with palace guards and picked his way through the rubble that had once been the enormous foyer and receiving room of the palace, Willow’s image hovered in the back of his mind. Not the beautiful woman in the beautiful ball gown, but the grimy, soot-covered one who’d so selflessly helped him. Who was she? Where had she come from? And why had she run away?

Had she been frightened, or had her fleeing been something else entirely? He froze as an awful thought occurred to him. Had she known something about the bomb or who had planted it? Had she seen something or was she much more intimately involved? Did she know something about the extremists?

As much as he tried, he couldn’t immediately dismiss the idea. He’d thought he was familiar with every noblewoman around, not only in Teslinko but in the neighboring countries. But he had no idea who she really was, what nationality, or even who her people were.

When he’d first found her, she’d been hiding, keeping to herself, speaking to no one. She’d been practically skulking about. Had what he’d put down to shyness been in actuality an attempt to remain unnoticed?

One thing he knew for certain. When all this was over, he had to find her again.

Finally finished, he straightened his shoulders. Since the press conference would be starting in a few minutes, he turned to go in search of his parents again. As he did, he glanced down. There, among the soot and the rubble, near his feet, something shimmered. He bent, his muscles sore, and picked it up.

A woman’s earring, a dangling pearl, now sullied by ash and soot. An image flashed into his mind of the earring swinging gently as Willow turned her head. The earring was hers. She must have lost it in the craziness after the explosion.

Jaw set, he slipped the jewelry into his pocket. He’d seek Willow out, ostensibly to return her earring. While he was there, he’d ask her to explain exactly why she’d run and what she’d seen.

Kicking off her heels and lifting her sodden, ruined skirt in one hand, Willow took off. She ran, full-out, panic fueling her, grateful for the sudden spurt of energy that enabled her to go. She relished the feel of her legs pounding the earth and the wind whipping her hair, pushing away her weariness. When she reached the veil, she didn’t hesitate, leaping toward the shimmering space as though the hounds of hell followed her.

For all she knew, one of them did.

When she’d discovered the veil, she’d quickly learned not to stay overnight. If she did, too much time passed on the other side. Once she’d come home after spending eighteen hours among the humans, only to learn over a week had passed at home.

She couldn’t chance that happening again. Especially not now, when her parents had warned her that the two princes from EastWard would be arriving by the next day. One of these men—Prince Chad—was to be her betrothed. The other, Prince Eric, would wed her older sister, Tatiana.

There would be a ball—the irony of this didn’t escape her—and she would be expected to make an appearance. As a matter of fact, she’d planned to wear the dress she’d worn tonight, which was now hopelessly ruined.

Once she’d landed—this time, miraculously on her feet—she hurried home. As soon as the glistening gold of the castle came into view, she felt some of her panic subside. Judging from the way the moon still hung low in the horizon, time had remained the same, or close enough that her lateness wouldn’t matter.

Out of breath with her heart pounding from her exertion, she skidded to a stop and smoothed down her hair. There was nothing she could do about her ruined and filthy dress. At least everyone should still be asleep in their beds.

Hurrying up the glittering steps and grasping the huge handle of the castle door, she pulled the heavy door open and slipped inside.

All quiet, exactly as it should be. So far, so good.

Then, as she turned the corner that would lead toward the stairs, she heard it. Coming from down the hall, emanating from the direction of one of the receiving rooms, the sound of harp music and muted laughter.

Oh, dark. Her heart in her throat, she froze, listening. Was this a party that had continued into the predawn hours? What else could it be? Had the East-Ward group already arrived? Her stomach clenched. She hoped not. If she’d missed some kind of welcoming reception, her mother would be furious with her.

Another laugh, deep and masculine, drifted down the hall. Immediately following, her sister Tatiana’s signature giggle. If this wasn’t the EastWard group, then her older sister had been entertaining another gentleman caller for the entire night.

Blech. Though Willow wouldn’t put it past Tatiana. One last fling before settling down to a boring married life would be the way her older sister would look at it.

Hoping she was wrong, Willow gave the room a wide berth and hurried to her room to shower and change out of her ruined dress into her pajamas. Hopefully she could manage to catch a few hours of sleep before anyone came looking for her.

The next morning, full sunlight lit her room when she finally opened her eyes. The clock on the night-stand next to her bed read eleven thirty-five. Nearly noon.

Though her first instinct was to panic and jump out of bed so she could rush through her normal morning preparations, after a moment of thought, she reconsidered. Stretching, she allowed herself to wallow in the unexpected luxury of sleeping in. Since no one had bothered her or, more specifically, come to chew her out, she’d have to assume that the EastWard group hadn’t yet arrived.

As she snuggled under the covers, her door swung open. Tatiana rushed into the room, slamming the door behind her. She wore one of her most glittery dresses, the shifting colors of white, gold, silver and blue giving Willow an instant headache.

“Good, you’re here,” Tatiana gushed, her golden hair all done up in ribbons and curls. Then, as she took in the sight of Willow snuggling under the covers, she frowned. “Why are you still in bed?”

Briefly Willow entertained the thought of telling her sister that frowning made a deep furrow appear right in the middle of her perfectly shaped eyebrows, but decided against it. “Thanks for knocking,” she said. “What do you want? I was sleeping.”

“This late?” Tatiana snorted. “Right. You forget, I know you. You’re hiding, aren’t you?”

Cautiously, Willow peered up at her sister. The waist of Tati’s sparkling dress had been cinched so tightly, it was a wonder the older girl could breathe. Her full breasts threatened to spill out if she moved the wrong way. The glittering material barely covered them, though the way it had been arranged put them on blatant display.

Of course. Tatiana was getting ready to meet her fiancé. She wanted to look her best.

“Why would I need to hide?” Cautiously, Willow sat up.

Narrow-eyed, Tatiana studied her. Her painted lips finally spread into a malicious grin. “You honestly don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“I’ll bet you didn’t show up at the welcome reception last night, did you?”

“Didn’t you notice?” Willow volleyed back. What kind of sister doesn’t discern whether or not her younger sibling was in attendance? She knew the answer to that one. Unless they were in direct competition with her for attention, a completely self-absorbed person like Tatiana rarely noticed any other woman in the room. And, since Willow clearly was no competition, Tatiana rarely knew—or cared about—her whereabouts.

Shaking her head so that her waves of bright, golden hair swung about her in a glorious cloud, Tatiana moved forward and perched on the chair at the side of Willow’s bed.

“The princes are here,” she said dreamily, though her bright violet eyes remained as sharp as ever. “Prince Eric is nearly as beautiful as me. And Prince Chad …”

Tatiana laughed, the sound so high-pitched and false Willow had to fight the urge to put her hands over her ears.

Tatiana’s perfect red lips widened into a mocking smile. “He’s perfect for you.”

Since Tatiana showed no signs of leaving and hadn’t yet arrived at the reason for her visit, Willow played along. “In what way? Is he also short and dark?”

“No. Quite the opposite. As a matter of fact, in his own way he’s very … appealing.” Tatiana gave a nervous laugh that was totally unlike her normal high-pitched giggle. This, along with the fact that her sister rarely even visited her room, made Willow instantly suspicious.

Slowly, she sat up, keeping as much of herself covered as she could for protection. She wouldn’t put it past her older sister to get in a few jabs about Willow’s lack of serious cleavage. About to ask for a second time what Tatiana wanted, Willow closed her mouth as Tatiana continued speaking.

“There’s a big breakfast this morning.” The words came out in a breathless rush, again not like her. “Since you missed the welcome reception last night, they’ve arranged for you to meet your intended in a few minutes over coffee and pastries. I was sent to fetch you.”

“A few minutes?” It took every ounce of restraint not to jump from her bed. Not only would she be rushed, but she’d be late for her worst nightmare. A big breakfast with a male stranger whom she was supposed to marry.

“I’ll stall them for you,” Tatiana offered.

Since her sister never did anything without expecting payment, Willow tilted her head. “Why would you do that?”

Tatiana abruptly fell silent, her huge violet eyes filling with tears. This made Willow instantly suspicious, as she knew her sister only cried to manipulate someone.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so awful to you lately,” Tatiana said. And there it was, or at least the beginnings of it. Exploitation. Though what Willow could possibly have that Tatiana would want, was beyond her.

Instead of acknowledging the apology, Willow simply crossed her arms and waited, knowing eventually Tatiana would get to the point.

But even she was shocked when her older sister suddenly burst into tears. And not fake tears either, but gut-busting, mascara-ruining real tears.