The Wolf Prince Read online

  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. Rat
her, 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.