Untamed Shifter Love Page 5

  Leave, Tristan!

  After what seemed like an eternity, the black wolf threw back its head and howled before it turned and ran. Balen watched him go, then turned back to face the travelers.

  Weapons were lifted and aimed at him now. He moved back, head high, showing he was no threat.

  “Go on, get!” the commander yelled at him. He lowered his weapon.

  When all guns lowered except one, Balen moved toward the forest.

  “No!” he heard the woman cry out. “Leave him be.”

  He reached the line of trees and turned. The woman stood between him and the threat. He darted for cover and ran.

  Terron soon came into sight. He trotted up the long, winding roadway toward the formidable structure. Around back, he headed for the door that led to the kitchen. Frantically, he scratched at the heavy wood. The door cracked open and he darted inside, past the startled old woman, and moved through the keep.

  Once he reached the chamber at the top of the tower, he bolted through the entrance and urged the door shut with his snout. He came up before the hearth and laid down, panting heavily by the warm fire. Closing his eyes, he took deep breaths and concentrated.

  The change came quickly. There was no pain.

  Once his transformation was complete, Balen rose wearily to his feet. He stood before the fire, staring into the depths of the flames. A knock sounded at the door. Naked, he turned.

  A dark-haired man of equal height to Balen entered the room. Dressed all in black, his white teeth gleamed in the firelight.

  “Are you all right?” the man asked, eyes sparkling wickedly.

  Balen moved to the pile of clothing nearby and began to dress. “Yes. No thanks to you. What the devil were you thinking, Tristan?”

  “The men were eager for the hunt.”

  “We don’t hunt people. Or have you forgotten?”

  “It was only in sport,” Tristan argued, quick with an easy smile.

  Balen shoved his foot into a high black boot and glared at him. “Tell that to Caleb, or to the others who lay dead.”

  The smile froze on Tristan’s face. “An unfortunate hazard of our lives.”

  Fully dressed, Balen reached for his cloak. “It did not have to happen. Do you know who you attacked on the road tonight?”

  Tristan shrugged. “Travelers. Of no consequence.”

  Balen strode toward the chamber door, paused, and turned. “That was Lady Alena Harford out there. My betrothed.” He slammed the door on his way out.

  * * * *

  Alena sat forward on her seat in the coach, peering intently at the castle perched upon the hilltop ahead. Her arrival was early and unexpected, and she didn’t know what kind of welcome she could expect to receive. The hour was late. The moon had risen high in the sky and here she came, arriving like a thief in the night.

  The coach rolled beneath the raised portcullis that a hundred years ago would have been staunchly closed and guarded. Ahead loomed the small but imposing castle. It was said to be three hundred years old. She saw the glow of candlelight up in the single tower and through a few windows on each of the three floors. At least someone was awake.

  When they drew up before the massive, arched, double doors she heard one of her party climb down from the coach. The unfortunate death of her original driver stirred an ache of regret in her belly. It was her fault—all of this. The desperate need to leave her home and venture here early had come quite unexpectedly. The route was long, however, and she’d hoped to travel at leisure and arrive at the scheduled date. Things hadn’t turned out that way.

  The coach door opened and Alena reached out to the guard to help her down. Another of the guards had dismounted and now went up before the great entranceway. He pounded on the heavy wood, and moments later one door creaked open. An elderly man, standing very erect, dressed as a butler, stepped out. He noted the coach and smiled at Alena.

  “Lady Harford? What a pleasant surprise. We weren’t expecting you until the end of the week.”

  Alena smiled back at him. “I’m so sorry to arrive early—Timms, is it?”

  He inclined his head. “No need for apology, my lady. Lord Cole will be glad to see you.”

  Lord Balen Cole was her betrothed, though she’d only met the man half a dozen times within the past five years. Her grandmother had influenced Alena’s father to arrange the match, and honoring her wish, the betrothal was set once Alena reached the age of fifteen. Balen would have claimed her much sooner, but her father had been loath to let her go. His health in decline, he relied upon her more and more each day it seemed. Alena’s mother had long since passed away, and then her grandmother had died. Alena was the only family he had left, and she couldn’t bear the thought of leaving him in the care of the servants.

  “We’ll see to your bags, my lady,” the head of the guards said.

  Timms opened both doors wide and stepped back. “Please, come inside and make yourself comfortable. Jackson can show your men where to place your bags.”

  A young man with bushy, black hair stepped forward, nodded in Alena’s direction, and went outside to the coach.

  Alena followed Timms, who led her through the grand entranceway and to a doorway on the right. She entered a large room with a pair of chairs and a settee placed before the hearth. Other chairs were positioned throughout the room, along with small tables bearing lit candles. The walls were lined with bookshelves containing hundreds of books.

  “Please, be seated and I will inform his lordship of your arrival.”

  Timms left the room and Alena sat down before the hearth. Though the fire blazed with warmth, she felt a chill—from her recent ordeal with the wolves, or the thought of facing Balen again, she wasn’t sure.

  It wasn’t long before he came into the room. “Alena?”

  She got to her feet, ready with an apology. “Balen, please forgive my early arrival.”

  She took in the sight of him with a combination of relief and apprehension. He was dressed all in black, his tall black boots adding to his great height. His blond hair brushed his shoulders in stark contrast to his dark clothing.

  He waved off her explanation and took both of her hands in his. “Not at all. I’m delighted.” He peered into her eyes intently. “I have the feeling it was not the dire need to be by my side that has brought you here, however.”

  She looked down at her feet. “My father. He’s had a stroke.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear that.” He ran his thumbs over her knuckles, causing her pulse to quicken.

  “I did not want to leave him. He is quite insensible. He cannot move, and he does not know who I am.”

  Balen urged her to retake her seat on the settee and sat down next to her. “How terrible.”

  “I know it’s wrong for me to leave him this way. But I fear I had no choice.” Her voice was barely a whisper. The past few days had been exhausting, and now that she had at last reached her destination, her fear and sadness pressed in on her.

  “No choice?” There was a slight edge to his voice.

  Alena wrung her hands and lifted her head to stare into eyes so dark they appeared black. “Another man seeks to make me his wife.”

  Anger flashed in his expression. “Who is this man?”

  “Lord Rory Alden. His estate borders my father’s land. And I fear…”

  “You fear?”

  “I fear he pursues me even now. He will not let me go.”

  Balen rose to his feet. His muscular strength and incredible height presented an awesome presence. “He will give you no more cause to fret, my love. I promise you.”

  Sweet words meant to give her reassurance sounded more like a brutal fact.

  Alena shivered again.

  Chapter 2

  “Who is this man?” Tristan asked.

  Alena had filled Balen in on several details before he settled her into her rooms. He’d then taken one of the secret passageways into the bowels of the castle. Tristan had been waiting for him, as Balen
knew he would be.

  “Lord Rory Alden. Hails from Elbrock Manor, the neighboring estate to Bradderly—Alena’s father’s estate. His family is newly come to the area.” Balen paced back and forth before the huge hearth where a warm fire blazed. Both men held a glass of whiskey.

  “He believes he has a claim to her?”

  “He wishes it to be so. Apparently he’s given pursuit, chasing her across the miles, never letting up on his intent to overtake her.”

  “It’s possible her father may not have opposed, and perhaps even encouraged the match. He would not have to send his only child so far away then.”

  “She says Alden’s been hanging around Bradderly since he moved in over a year ago. He is charming and gracious. Count Harford has been completely taken in.”

  “And how does Alena feel about him, or do I need ask?” Tristan said. He drained his glass and reached for the bottle.

  “She doesn’t trust him. She said he makes her skin crawl, but she cannot pinpoint why.”

  “Sixth sense. We know all about that.”

  Balen snatched the whiskey bottle off the table and topped up his own drink. “He made his intention to court Alena clear to her father several months ago. Alena objected of course, being already betrothed to me. But he is persistent. When Harford had a stroke Alena feared Alden would take advantage of the opportunity, so she fled.”

  “And Alden gives pursuit,” Tristan remarked with a scowl. “Let’s give him a warm welcome, shall we?”

  The two men contemplated each other in silence for a moment.

  Balen set down his glass. “Are you ready? We have work to do.”

  Tristan nodded, his face grim. They both reached for a shovel, and without another word, climbed the stairs and headed out into the dark night.

  “This is the place,” Balen remarked when they came upon the roadway where the confrontation occurred between the wolves and Alena’s guards.

  The coachman’s body was the first they moved off into the thick forest to bury.

  Caleb was next. They both stared down at the body, now transformed into a naked man.

  Balen sniffed the air, searching and deciphering the foreign scents.

  “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Tristan said. “You know how things can get in the heat of the battle.”

  “This was no battle,” Balen reminded him. “It was pure sport. Entertainment to alleviate boredom.”

  “It’s the bloody change. It takes over me, I feel like I have no control. Especially on nights like this.”

  They both stared up at the full moon.

  After the men were buried, Balen and Tristan began the trek back to the castle. Balen was deep in thought. Seeing his two kinfolk, transformed from the state of wolves back to men, made him realize something he hadn’t before.

  For generations the change had occurred, striking as soon as the victim reached the age of eighteen. There were rumors about how it all came to pass. Most agreed it was a curse placed upon the Cole family over two hundred years ago by a scorned woman rumored to have been a witch. All of those afflicted with the condition were related by blood, even remotely. Over the years, those relatives who’d heard the rumors about the Cole family arrived on the doorstep of the ancient holding, seeking sanctuary and comradery for their shared indisposition. Balen was weary to reveal the family secret to new arrivals, and only when he saw for himself the change come over the man—as it only affected the males of the bloodline—were they then welcomed into the pack.

  The idea of stopping the transformation drove Balen to search endlessly for a cure. Many hours he spent below Terron Castle in his laboratory looking for the answer.

  Now he pondered the idea of death. With death, the wolf reverted back to man. What if that was the answer?

  “I will greet Lady Alena in the morning,” Tristan said as they came up before the kitchen door of Terron.

  Balen cringed. “Please refrain from growling at my lady. She is of a delicate nature.”

  Tristan put his hand to his heart and grinned like a rogue. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Good night, cousin.”

  Balen climbed atop the ancient battlements, surveying the dark land below, opting to not yet seek his bed. He inhaled deeply, searching for a scent. He’d never met Alden, but his keen sense of smell would detect a newcomer easily. The trace of Alena’s guard was heavy on the air. He didn’t know if Alden’s scent was mingled with the others. Balen knew he must be close.

  The fear in Alena’s voice and expression told him this was no trifling matter. Alden meant to have her. Balen was just as determined that he would not.

  The problem he faced was how to remove the threat. It would be easy enough to hunt the man down, blame his demise on wolf attack. But he didn’t need a mass hunting party arriving, attempting to eliminate the pack. The death of a hired coachman was one thing, the death of a lord would be taken more seriously.

  Balen and his pack were the only anomaly in the area, and quite hidden at that. He preferred things stayed that way. It was true that Tristan and the others could get a little wild now and again. It wasn’t unheard of to have near-by farmers arrive at his doorstep with a grievance of livestock being killed, unaware they were speaking to the overlord of the pack. Tristan and some of the others had a wild streak to them, which Balen had tried over the years—most unsuccessfully—to curb.

  Tonight things had gone too far. Two members of his pack had been senselessly killed. The young black had been a member for only a few months, but Balen and Caleb had been close for years.

  Restless, Balen left the battlements and wove through the labyrinth of hidden passageways, finding himself in Alena’s bedroom. Staring down upon her, curled up on her side, blankets pulled up to her chin, he felt a surge of protectiveness.

  She was so innocent. And she knew nothing of the curse.

  If he prevailed in finding a cure, she never would.

  * * * *

  Alena sensed a presence.

  She kept her breathing slow and even, and her body still, giving the impression she slept. All she saw through the slits of her eyes were shadows—given off by the crackling flames in the hearth, or something else, she knew not which. Her skin did not prickle in warning, so she felt no danger. The deep breaths she heard were unmistakable, and the scent... Ah, now she recognized it, for it lingered over the entire place so she did not at first discern it. But now it was so strong—Balen.

  How had he come to be at the foot of her bed? She’d not heard the heavy door to her room swing open. He must have a secret entrance. The window was open, but he could hardly have come through there.

  Or had he?

  Ever since she’d been a child at her grandmother’s knee, she’d heard rumors about the Cole family’s history. Stories about a curse and a witch. And something about packs of wolves. Come to think of it, Rory had even relayed some of these tales to her and her father. No doubt hoping to cast a poor light upon her betrothed.

  Alena had to admit the rumors only added to the intrigue and mystery of Balen Cole and Terron Castle. Now that she was here, she felt strangely content. Fear for her father was still prominent in her mind, however, and at the soonest opportunity she hoped to convince Balen to allow her father to come here to join them. Yet, for the first time in days she didn’t fear that Rory would come upon her and snatch her away. Everything about that man screamed ‘danger’.

  Light footsteps sounded and Alena heard a scratching noise which sounded like a panel being moved. The hidden passageway. She soon sensed she was alone once more. After a few minutes, she pushed the blankets back and crept from her bed. She moved toward the place she’d heard the sound. It took a while, but she discovered the secret door and how to access it from her side. Satisfied, she crossed the room to the large window. The shutters lay open, allowing in the cool, fresh night air.

  She looked to the bedroom door to see that it remained latched. Only then did she loosen the ties on her nightgown and let it slip off to po
ol at her feet. Slowly, she raised her arms into the air, letting the gentle breeze blow over her bare skin.

  Seconds later the change came upon her.

  She rose up into the air on great, powerful, snowy white wings and soared through the window into the dark night.

  * * * *

  The next morning Alena sat for breakfast at the table with Balen. He noted the smudges beneath her eyes and figured she’d not passed a restful night.

  “You have a beautiful home,” Alena said. She sipped at her second cup of coffee.

  “Thank you. Once we’ve finished I’ll take you on a tour of the castle and the grounds.”

  “Is it true Terron is three hundred years old?”

  Balen nodded. “Yes, it’s been in my family for generations. It’s not a great castle by any means, but it’s home.”

  After breakfast, Balen took her on a grand tour, eulogizing the history of the Cole family. He wondered, as he stared at her curious gaze, what rumors she’d heard about him and of Terron. He knew the talk of curses and wild beasts stretched out farther than the small surrounding hamlets. Whether the stories reached all the way to Alena’s former home, he couldn’t say.

  The last place Balen brought her was atop the battlements. They stared out across the land. “The forest stretches for miles in every direction,” he said. “Over there is the town of Mardow. It’s very old, over a hundred years.” He pointed in that direction.

  Alena nodded.

  Balen took in her searching gaze and thought she was most likely scanning the area for signs of Alden. He tilted his head back and breathed deeply, searching for a new scent.

  “We can take the horses out if you’re not too tired,” Balen offered.

  She smiled. “I’d like that. Have we seen all of the castle then? What about below? Is that where you keep the deep, dark dungeon?”

  Balen tensed. “Long ago there were a couple of prison cells. Now it’s mainly used for storage.” The last thing he wanted was for Alena to go below and see the laboratory he had set up. “Perhaps we should discuss our wedding?”