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“Yes. I loved him so much that I would have taken anything if it meant being with him. Anything but being ignored and forgotten.”
“Shit, Sabine. That’s… heavy stuff. You’ve no idea how that sounds…”
“I do. I do now. I’m over it, I told you, but I know what love can do to you, how it can mess with your head and turn you into a pathetic slave. Yes, I was a pathetic slave. Promise me you won’t end up like me. Promise me you won’t change your mind and you’ll get us out of here the next full moon. You’ve given me hope, Avelyn. For the first time in five years, I can hope again. Don’t take it away from me.”
Sabine’s voice was pleading, and Avelyn was struck by the realization that the girl’s fate was in her hands. It was the first time someone depended on her, and the thought terrified her.
“I’d rather die than let you down,” she said.
***
Max was staring at Jocelyn’s reports, but he couldn’t focus on the words. It wasn’t a big deal because he had already read them at least four times. He had hoped something he hadn’t seen before would pop up now that he had better insight into the fox-shifters’ culture, thanks to Avelyn. He reached for the huge mug of coffee next to the papers and realized it was empty. He’d have to ask Christine to fill it up. He pushed his office chair away from the desk and rolled it to the window, too lazy to stand up. He couldn’t see the entire courtyard from where he was, but he took his time to check the part that he did see and try to spot Avelyn. Apparently, she was either on the porch or she was hiding in her room again. They had had breakfast together a couple of hours ago, but he already missed her. He threw a glance at his watch and saw there was still one hour and a half left until lunch. He’d see her soon enough.
He saw Karl strolling towards the gate with only his shorts on, and smiled. His brother had kept his word and didn’t walk around naked. When he was at the Schloss, Karl liked to leave his clothes somewhere in a corner so he could turn whenever he felt like it. His Dark Wolves did the same. This time, however, Max had insisted to change the rules a bit, or, better said, to establish a new one: no naked werewolves walking around. They were neither barbarians, nor beasts, and he wanted Avelyn to have a sense of normality. The time when werewolves lived in caves and owned few clothes was long gone. They had started to run businesses and build fortunes since the Middle Ages, so they had to live up to these high standards even when the wolf inside craved freedom, simplicity, and that profound connection with the forest that didn’t require any clothes or material possessions.
Karl had gone through the gates and disappeared in the forest. If Max knew him well, he wasn’t going to be back before dinner. It was better that way. Maybe he could avoid the whole family dinner this evening and eat in the pleasant company of his bride. He had no intention of giving Karl another chance to bring that nasty little issue into discussion ever again.
“God dammit,” he whispered to himself. “It sure is nasty, but it’s not little. Who am I kidding?”
Karl had made his point plain and clear: his brother had to tell his new bride about the girl in the dungeons.
“Sabine, Sabine… What am I going to do about you?”
He had gone to see her the day before and had spent an hour with her. They hadn’t talked much. The strange, awkward friendship between them had grown cold and they had very little to tell each other. She had seemed distracted, but when had she not? Her moods changed like the wind in fall. She could be calm one second, and then rage like a storm the next.
“Why can’t he understand that all I’m trying to do is protect Avelyn?” he thought. But Karl being Karl, had a completely different perspective on the matter. “You’re an idiot if you think you’re going to achieve that by lying to her. She’s smart, brother. Don’t underestimate her.” His words had hit him so hard that he had unwillingly memorized them. They had rung in his head since last night, when Karl had decided to ruin their little after dinner party by bringing up the unpleasant subject of his ex-bride. But, what if he was right?
“No, I can’t tell her, I just can’t,” he reasoned with himself. “What would I say? Hey, my love, here’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you since you got here, but I wasn’t sure how. Now, promise me you won’t freak out, jump out the window, and run away. Ready? Here goes: I’ve been married before. What? No, she didn’t grow old and die. She’s still alive, all healthy and dandy. I locked her up in the dungeons.”
He laughed at his own silliness. It was tragic, really. He should have cried his eyes out, not laugh.
“But don’t worry, baby, I don’t love her anymore, and she doesn’t love me either. We’re both over it. It was a long time ago, anyway. Sixty years since break-up will do that to you even if you live under the same roof. Technically.”
Max growled in frustration and rubbed his tired eyes. He hadn’t slept well last night, after his discussion with Karl. Come to think of it, neither had Avelyn slept well. She had kept tossing and turning. Of course, there was more to his history with Sabine, but how could those details have helped when he knew the immensity of having kept a woman locked in his dungeons for over 60 years would hit Avelyn so hard that she wouldn’t probably stick around long enough to hear the rest of the story? Maybe, if he came up with another way of telling her his secret? If he started from the beginning? Then, there was the
other nasty little issue: he had kept her locked in their bedroom for one week, and he was almost sure Avelyn hadn’t entirely forgiven him for that no matter how many times she had tried to reassure him. She’d surely think he had some sort of sick fetish of locking up his brides and throwing away the key.
“What a mess. I just want her to be safe. I want to keep her away from this shit, away from Sabine. I want her to be happy and carefree, to feel loved and appreciated. She’s perfect for me, perfect for the pack and the entire clan. They’re all starting to see it, too. God, Avelyn, baby… how do I make this work? I hate lying to you. I hate it so much, but I can’t risk losing you.”
He stood up and walked back to his desk. He checked the empty mug again and grabbed his smartphone to text Christine. It was easier than sending her a telepathic signal, and he was glad technology had made it possible for the werewolves to keep their minds closed without risking losing contact with the members of their pack. He tapped “send”.
“Hot coffee will make it all better.”
***
Max opened the door for her before she even had a chance to knock.
“Damn! I wanted to make you a surprise,” she said.
He leaned in to capture her lips in a quick, sweet kiss. “You should know by now it’s not easy to surprise a werewolf. Especially if said werewolf has smelled you one too many times.”
He took the tray she was balancing in one hand, and motioned for her to follow him into the office. He set the tray down and slipped a sugar cube in the hot coffee. He stirred then took a small sip.
“This tastes differently…” He inhaled the delicious flavor and raised a brow in confusion. “Cinnamon?”
“Yep! Just a dash. Also, a drop of lemon juice. My special recipe.”
Max laughed. His arm went around her waist. He pressed her to his chest and kissed the top of her head. “I love it. However, it’s a wonder Christine let you take over.”
