Legendary Wolf. Barbara J. Hancock
desertion, and at the same time she’d nearly been overcome by the horror of her true parentage. He had run. But, she’d had nowhere to run from the horrible truth and no one to run away with.
Anna had come to a place in the forest where the path widened because it intersected with several other paths. Those trails led off in different directions, then disappeared as if the thick woods they tried to penetrate swallowed them.
She flexed her leather-encased fingers. The gloves on her hands helped to focus and contain the fledgling powers she was only beginning to understand. She hadn’t had the luxury of rejecting who and what she truly was. Her Volkhvy heritage was in her blood. Once she knew, it couldn’t be ignored.
She’d thought herself an orphan for too long.
Soren’s father, Vladimir Romanov, had kidnapped her and kept her as insurance against the queen he planned to overthrow. Anna had grown up alongside his children as a foundling they called “Bell.” She’d been ignorant of her witch heritage. When her mother had learned of Vladimir’s part in destroying the village where her baby daughter had been hidden from the threat of the Dark Volkhvy, she had cursed Bronwal to punish Vladimir for “killing” her daughter. Anna had been caught up in the curse, as well.
The knowledge that she was loved so much that her mother would weave a horrible curse as punishment for her supposed murder was a hot knot in her chest that was composed as much out of relief as it was of guilt.
But she was also filled with fear. She wasn’t just any witch; she was the daughter of the most powerful witch in existence. How could she trust herself to use the power her own mother had abused?
She forced the tingling in her fingers to ease off. She willed away the energy she inadvertently tried to channel because of her nerves. Before she’d discovered her identity, her powers had been dormant. Once her mother had begun her training, the power was always there, just beneath the surface of her skin, waiting to be released. It was entirely up to her to keep the energy she could channel in check. As she focused on control, the silence in the forest screamed a warning that roared deep in her ears along with the pounding of her heart.
There were wolves in the quiet wood.
She carefully picked her way down the path, heeding the warning that flared at the edges of her perceptions. She wasn’t alone. Ivan was busy at Bronwal. He and his new wife, Elena, were helping all the people who had survived the curse reclaim a modern life. She’d been there first and witnessed the construction, education and modernization that Vasilisa herself was helping to bring about as she tried to make amends.
That left Anna alone in the woods with Ivan’s brothers, the red wolf...and the white.
Coming back here was a mistake.
Her pounding heart most dreaded seeing Soren again, but her head knew that Lev—the white wolf—posed the greatest danger. He was feral. Completely out of touch with the man he’d once been. If it wasn’t for Soren, she would already have her gloves off and her hands would be free in case the white wolf decided to go from stalking to attack.
She could feel hungry eyes on her back. She’d tried to dismiss the feeling as imagination, but it persisted. Gooseflesh rose on the back of her neck, and it wasn’t the damp air that made her shiver. While she hunted for Soren, she was being stalked herself. Something was definitely out there, hiding in the trees and shadows. It might be the white wolf. Watching and waiting for the perfect moment to attack.
At the castle, they had told her that Soren was out looking for Lev. That he spent every waking moment trying to catch his wild twin brother and bring him back home. Coming into the woods after Soren Romanov had felt like a risk she had to take, but now she wasn’t so sure.
Suddenly, a long ululating cry broke the silence.
The howl came from far away, rising and falling in a weak, thready tone that she immediately pegged as coming from a natural wolf’s throat. She’d heard the Romanov wolves howl. Their shift from human form to wolf could shake the earth. Their vocalizations were much more powerful than this one. The weak howl fell away to nothing, and silence reigned once more.
Mist swirled. Shadows lurked. Her ears strained to pick up the slightest sound.
Every instinct she possessed screamed that she wasn’t alone, even as the hush deepened around her.
The sudden howl had caused her to freeze. Adrenaline rushed to her extremities and, in spite of her cloak, she shivered again against its cool, familiar flow beneath her skin. Her fear had helped her survive Bronwal during the curse. Now it caused her to stand motionless for only a moment before she reached to remove a glove. She couldn’t afford to be frozen by fear. She had to be fueled by it.
The long shafts of her leather gloves reached almost to her elbows. She pushed the left glove down to her wrist, but then another noise interrupted its removal.
A step sounded behind her.
A twig snapped.
She registered the quality of the sound before she whirled to face her stalker.
The snap had been caused by the tread of a boot, not a paw.
Her fingers fell away from the loosened glove. She hadn’t fully removed it. It was abandoned in a bunch around her wrist. She forgot her intention to free her magic as her hands dropped to her sides. They fisted in response to a strange yet hauntingly familiar face as a man materialized from the shadowy path behind her.
She should be glad it wasn’t Lev.
She should be relieved she wasn’t facing the feral white wolf.
As her chest tightened until she could hardly breathe, it wasn’t relief that claimed her. The large man who stepped toward her seemed as feral as the wolf she’d expected, and his altered appearance stabbed through her with a jolt of shocked recognition that pinned her in place.
She’d last seen Soren as her beloved companion, the red wolf. Before that, she remembered him as the handsome teenager who had been her loyal friend. They’d grown up together at Bronwal before the curse fell. She’d been an orphan. He’d been one of the legendary Romanov wolves, practically royal but somehow also hers.
The man who stalked her now had a heavy thundercloud brow and a mane of wild red hair around his bearded face. He was well over six feet tall with a muscular build and broad shoulders. He was Soren, but he wasn’t her Soren. He was changed. She backed up several paces until her spine came up against a tree. Its old, solid trunk wouldn’t allow her to retreat any farther.
This man was different, but as he approached she could see the giant wolf she’d known so well in his coloring and his movements. He was large but graceful. He was furious, but his fury was contained. She’d seen the red wolf stand against the Dark Volkhvy in just this way hundreds of times before. She had gloried in this moment, again and again. She had seen him confront and drive off countless marauders intent on stealing his brother’s enchanted blade.
The difference was that she had been by his side then and not the object of his fury.
“You aren’t welcome here, Volkhvy. Why have you come back?” Soren asked.
His voice. His human voice. When she’d heard it last, the world had been so much younger. There hadn’t been airplanes or automobiles. There hadn’t been blue jeans or cell phones. She had believed in loyalty and friendship. They had survived the passage of centuries together until his reaction to the truth had torn them apart. And now he sounded like an angry stranger. His voice was hard and rough. He spoke as if he’d howled alone at the moon far too many times.
“I had to come. There’s something you need to know,” Anna said. Her voice didn’t waver. Her whole body trembled from the shock of seeing him as her adversary, but her voice was as firm as it had to be. So much had changed, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be comfortable with the power in her blood, but she had faced down a curse without cowering. She wouldn’t be timid now when she most needed to stand.
“There’s