Page 30 of Wild Wolf

I considered Petra, who watched us with interest and showed none of her tension from earlier. “You better let Petra outside for this, especially if this might get bloody. She can play with Nicolina or something. Just tell her to heel, and she should come right to you. That’s what I’ve been teaching her, although I’ve never tested with others before.”

Richard opened the door, took a step outside, and ordered Petra to heel. She obeyed, and she held her head up with her ears pricked forward in canine interest. “Desmond, call Petra, would you? Use heel.”

Richard’s father-in-law gave the order, and my wolf ran out of sight. “She is getting extra treats tonight. She’s dealing with everyone better than I thought she would.”

“You’ve done a great job with her.” Richard crouched beside us, and he considered the witch I held. “Okay, Declan. This firecracker is a demoness in disguise, so you’re going to have to hold her like you mean it. Honestly, I’d just tie her up if I thought I could get away with it.”

“No,” Amber said. “Restraints during a shift is something I wouldn’t wish on anyone. I refuse. It’ll be bad enough being pinned by a lanky Marine.”

“I’m not even a real Marine,” I said, forcing my tone to be amused. “I’ll just use brute strength. I might be lanky, but I’ve been hauling around logs for months.”

Amber stilled on my lap. “Apparently, I find brute strength disconcertingly attractive.”

“It’s his gun handling, Amber. He knows his way around a gun, and you find that to be irresistibly hot,” Richard teased. “The muscles just sweeten the deal, since it means he might be able to put up a fight. Declan, just pretend she’s your favorite pot, and someone just threatened to boil water in it until it is empty.”

I scowled, as I could see myself clinging to a pot to protect it from such a fate. I secured a hold on Amber. “This is my pot. There are many like it, but this one is mine.”

Laughing, Richard shook his head. “That’s not quite how that creed goes, but for our intents and purposes, it’ll do. I’ll do whatever you want for a year, Amber, but get through this alive. At least that way, Nicolina’s crying for a good reason.”

“I always wanted my own slave. You can start with making sure Declan has a room in the fortress to go along with his cabin. And the kitchen needs to be upgraded in his cabin.”

“The kitchen needs to be installed in his cabin, Amber. We only just started building it.”

“The whole cabin needs to be bigger, and there needs to be shooting targets nearby.”

Richard stared at the fire witch with a neutral expression. “Anything else?”

“I’ll think about it.”

After so much talk about the ritual, I’d expected it to be long, drawn out, and complex. Richard stripped, folded his clothes, and transformed into a wolf. It took him about five minutes, and he showed little of the discomfort he’d endured the first time I’d witnessed him shift. Once done, he shook out his coat, came to Amber, and nuzzled her. Amber rested her head against his, and I wondered how Richard shouldered the burden he’d been asked to carry.

Life remained a fragile, uncertain thing.

I didn’t want to think about what would happen if the ritual failed.

Richard pulled away from Amber, nuzzled her throat, and gave a hard nip, which made the woman yelp and growl a few curses at the Alpha. As my job was to maintain a firm grip on her, I kept Amber on my lap and ignored her struggles to get to Richard and smack him for having bitten her.

He’d drawn a drop or two of blood, and I wondered if that was part of the ritual. I could only assume so, as my wolf accepted the bite as necessary.

Richard circled us, his attention focused on Amber. Every pass, he darted to the witch and landed a nip or bite, and something about how the wolf pranced meant something to my wolf, something my wolf found interesting.

A glimmer in the corner of my eye captured my attention, and the ghostly form of a prowling wolf drew close, its ears turned back and its—no, her—head lowered to protect her throat. Her body tensed when she noticed me staring at her.

I remembered her wary wildness; once upon a time, when I’d been young, my wolf had been the same way, as afraid of me as I’d been afraid of him, until my mother had taught us we were one and the same and couldn’t exist without each other. Did the wolf recognize she would become the same way? Did she see my wolf as clearly as I saw her?

I understood, then, why the ritual could fail for reasons no one understood.

The wolf decided, and all Amber, Richard, and I could do was wait for the ghostly animal to choose.

Amber sacrificed her life for the wolf, and if the wolf accepted, she would sacrifice her life for Amber. For a long moment, I held my breath, fighting the urge to beg and plead for the animal to accept Amber so she might live. I held my silence.

The choice wasn’t mine to make.

The ghostly wolf drew closer, and she breathed in deeply, one ear relaxing before pricking forward. Her attention shifted from Amber to me, her curiosity strengthening with each passing breath.

As though unaware of the ghostly visitor, Richard continued to circle, passing through the apparition several times without showing any sign he noticed her presence.

The wolf sniffed at Amber again, relaxing and growing more confident, and she stretched her head out to touch Amber with her nose. After another deep breath, the wolf took another step forward, her inhales and sniffs becoming more purposeful, concentrating on Amber’s head and snuffling at her hair.