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"Tillynoks used to be safe enough, but everything in the wood's been tainted by Myst's energy." He stared at his nails. "I can't help you any more than I have. At least . . . not now, not yet."
He looked at me then, without any facade, and I caught a glimpse of the old Grieve, the Grieve I remembered from so many years ago. The Grieve who had stared at me so sorrowfully when he was preparing me for life on the road with Krystal.
I moved closer to him, wanting to comfort him. As I placed my hand on his arm, he looked up--almost too quickly--his new side warring with the old--and covered my fingers with his. The wolf's head on my stomach let out a low whimper, and I moved in, pressing my hands on his shoulders.
And then--in a blur of movement--he raced to the window and was gone like a leaf caught up in the wind. The curtains around the open window swirled and I ran over to stare out into the night. There, loping toward the forest, ran a wolf. I raised one hand, then watched as an owl rose from the trees--the great horned bird I'd seen before. Spiraling, it glided on the wind, following the wolf back into the wood.
I slowly returned to bed.
What now? I had to tell the others. We had to go rescue Heather and Peyton. And Rhiannon and Leo deserved to know that Grieve and I were actually lovers. They wouldn't be happy, but I couldn't keep it a secret. I slipped on my robe and crept out into the hallway, tapping lightly on Rhiannon's door.
She answered, looking sleepy but still awake.
"Leo went to work, but not back to the party. Come in," she said. Closing the door behind me, she bundled me over to her bed and I crawled under the comforter with her. We snuggled like we had when we were children, and as she softly touched my cheek, I realized she already knew.
"So then. Grieve." Her words were measured, but her eyes filled with understanding.
"You can tell?"
"Yes. I heard you both--talking low. And I can see it in your face. You love him, don't you? Terribly so?"
"Yes, Grieve. He came to me tonight. Please, understand. I needed him. Grieve has a tattoo of my face on his thigh. Just like I have my wolf. He got it before he met me."
"I . . . I think there's nothing that can keep you two apart. Whatever binds you together is stronger than the Indigo Court or the vampires." She smiled. "Was it good?"
I laughed then. "Yes, oh yes. Grieve is . . . he's what I need. He's who I'm meant to be with. I know you can't help but be suspicious, but Grieve isn't like the others. He fights against his vampiric nature. He isn't truly part of the Indigo Court. He's trying to help us. And he told me where to find Heather and Peyton.">Then, a little after one in the morning, Dane stood back and whispered, "My God, look at yourself. You're beautiful."
And I'd looked down, and found the wolf that had followed me in dream after dream come to life on my skin. And I knew that he would always be with me, would always be watching over me.
"The next morning, Krystal threw Dane out and smacked me across the face. She was convinced I'd fucked him. I finally got her to believe that he'd just tattooed me, but it was too late. That night, Dane was at work in his shop and some motherfucker came in with a gun and blew his brains out, took all his cash, and vanished into the night. Nobody ever caught him. The cops didn't look very hard. Like so many of the people we met on the road, Dane was outside of the mainstream and the police considered him expendable. Just another tattoo artist biker dude."
I fell silent, thinking of the tall blond man who'd painstakingly inked my body. I had fantasies that he would take us in, marry Krystal, give us a settled life. His death sent me into a deep depression, but Krystal had just blown it off, angry that her meal ticket had disappeared.
After that night, I'd guarded the wolf from public view, not wanting to share him with others. He felt like he was alive and sometimes I could hear him growling at me, warning me, calling me. Eventually, I figured out it was Grieve--whether his spirit or memory, I didn't know. The men I'd slept with over the years hadn't liked the tattoo much, but I didn't give a damn. The wolf was part of me and I loved it like a good friend.
"And so here we are. You and I. Together again." Grieve gently traced his fingers over the tattoo and I felt like I was diving off a cliff into a midnight pool, dark and sparkling, so deep that I would never touch bottom. I let out a choked gasp. Please, no more. I couldn't handle much more.
Aching to calm the raging hunger within, I slowly lowered my hand to rest on top of his.
"Cicely . . ." His voice was breaking.
"Don't stop. I need you more than I can bear," I said, closing my eyes against the approaching storm. Indigo Court or not, I had to feel him touch me, enter me, make me whole. "I can't tell you what happened, but I can't stand this tension any longer."
Grieve moved in, his hand slowly trailing across my stomach to rest on my hip. He tipped my chin up and my eyes fluttered open. Those luminous stars studding their sea of onyx held me firm.
"Are you sure? Are you sure this is what you want?" He looked almost sad, but I could smell his arousal on the breeze, intoxicating and wild. He smelled nothing like Lannan had. Vampiric or not, Grieve was alive, and he was wild and passionate. Regardless of what anybody else thought, I knew he didn't want to hurt me, he wanted to love me.
"Yes, please." My words were muffled as he gathered me in his arms and pressed his lips against mine. I closed my eyes, sinking into the kiss. His lips were warm and vibrant, demanding and yet giving. He ran one hand up my cheek to brush my slick, wet hair back away from my face.
"No other man will ever touch you again--not if I can be there to stop him," he whispered, pressing his forehead against mine. He began to kiss me--his lips fluttering over my eyes, my cheeks, my lips, down to my neck. I could feel his teeth against my skin, but he hesitated and drew back.
"Not yet," he murmured, almost more to himself than to me. And then his mouth trailed kisses down my chest, teased my breasts as he slowly tugged on one nipple with his teeth, cautious not to pierce through the skin.
I was so wired all I could think was, Please, please fuck me. But Grieve wasn't about to move that fast.
He walked me backward to the bed, and in a blur, his clothes were on the floor. He was lean and strong, his olive skin moist and glimmering. His hair hung over his shoulders like spun silver. And he wants me.
As I gazed down his body, taking in his nakedness, I suddenly noticed something--something I'd never seen because I'd never seen Grieve in the light without clothes before. Even the first time, when I was seventeen, I hadn't noticed the mark in the dusk of the summer's evening.
