Her Scottish Wolf (Howls Romance): Loving World Page 22
“Mayhap, he has taken to the sea, knowing we are all now aware of his schemes, and that both you and your followers would have vengeance if ever he be spotted in these lands again.”
“Mayhap,” Fenris agreed, though something in his king’s knowing told him this would not be his last dealing with his cousin.
That eventide when he returned to their bed, her mood was much changed, duller somehow. And upon the morntide, she no longer came out of the bed closet to eat, only to empty her bladder, with the rest of her day spent lying underneath their bed furs. When he left their bed the morntide after, she could be found staring up at that wooden carving on the closet’s ceiling, and when he returned in the eventide, she could be found to do the same.
It took but two days of this behavior for him to confess her to be the winner of this battle. Verily, he was miserable and he would seek a remedy or it would be a long and cold winter indeed.
Chapter 15
“AUNT, I am in need of a potion,” Fenris said without preamble, upon stepping into the small meadow in the forest on the other side of the lake. This was where his aunt received wolves in need of her services in the waning twilight before the night moon fully rose. His aunt he found here, preparing some manner of potion as she was wont to do between visitors.
“Nay,” she answered without looking up from the ingredients she was working with a pestle in a mortar bowl.
“But you know not what it be for,” he said, frowning at her quick denial.
His aunt let out a great sigh and ceased her work with the pestle to say, “I will not give you a potion that will make your queen forget what brought her here or a potion that alters her temperament or a potion that makes her love you or a potion that makes her obey you in all things. Did you have in your mind another type of potion?”
He folded his arms, annoyed by his aunt’s prescience. Even if after twenty and seven winters in her company, it had become more than familiar. “You rather her suffer then?”
“I would rather you fix what is wrong with your mate as opposed to calling on the services of a tired old woman.”
“The same tired old woman who commanded me to seek out my fated mate only a few moons ago?”
“Yea, the same tired old woman.”
“You do anger me, Aunt.”
“Nay, not I. ‘Tis your queen who has you in such fine dander. I am but an old woman seeking peace in my end years.”
“If you truly want peace, then give me the potion I seek.”
She turned to face him then. “Is it known to you how many male wolves do come to me in private, seeking such things? I deny them all as I am denying you. Yet they call me wise woman in your lands and beyond. Why do you think that is, my Fenris?”
“I verily do not know,” he grumbled.
“Because the wolves who seek me out do oft listen to me and heed my advice. This is something you have never done, and you are one of the few who do not think me wise.”
“It is not that I begrudge you my esteem, Aunt. I simply do seek a remedy to my problem, and it angers me that you refuse to give it.”
“I have your remedy. And I will give it, but I would not waste my breath if it is to fall on deaf ears.”
“You have my ear, Aunt, and my audience, but considering your fated mates spell did saddle me with a wife who doth refuse to obey, I cannot promise I will heed your advice.”
She clucked her tongue. “I suppose this is the best I might expect from you. But you would do well to listen to me in this, Fenris. Your queen is from a faraway place, but her suffering is not uncommon. The wolves who have come to me seeking what you seek have all been the claimers of mates. They say their mates will not mind talk with them or clamp around them for a lay. They do whine because their she-wolves challenge their claims or refuse to show them the respect due a husband after their mating frenzy. These male wolves do beg for a potion that will make their she-wolves more biddable, and I tell them all the same.”
She paused with great drama, forcing Fenris to ask, “And this advice be what?
“If your she-wolf is angered by your claiming, the only thing to do is make her want to be claimed by you.”
“I do not comprehend your meaning.”
His aunt peered sideways at him with a smirk upon her face. “Yes, I can see you do not. Let me make it plain for you my handsome nephew. You pulled her far away from her lands. She does not know your people or this place, and she does not want to be here. She suffers, which means you suffer. If you want her not to suffer, if you wish her love for you to grow, there are only two remedies. The first is to give her reasons to love this place, to love you.”
He shook his head. “I care not of love. In addition, she is the one who did betray me, who did attempt to abscond with my pup. Why would I be the one to grovel at her feet? I am the Fenris, and she should count herself grateful to have me as her fated mate.”
“Yea, and if you wish her to count herself grateful, you have need to convince her of your worth.” His aunt’s tone did hold reason, but something in her smile told him she was also teasing him with her words, which only served to annoy Fenris even further.
“If this first remedy be too difficult for one who does ‘care not for love,’ here is the second.”
She unpinned from the inside of her fur another piece of fabric with different words written upon it and held it out to him. “’Tis a spell to return someone you have brought to your own land back to her own. But be fair warned, once she is disappeared, it will be difficult—nay that be the wrong word—I should say nigh impossible to reunite with her.”
His aunt’s words burned in his ears as he walked back to the village. How dare she deny him the potion he sought? If not for her advanced age and their family connection, he would banish her from his home for such daring. But then he did reach his own home, which set silent and again this night, empty.
Oftentimes a few of the wolves shifted during the summer months, choosing to spend their sleeping hours outside as opposed to in the confines of the king’s house. But as of late, his entire family had chosen to spend the sleeping hours outside of their familial stronghold, even though it was winter. Even his aunt, who cared little for shifting now she was an old wolf, spent these hours outside.
However, the dark beauty’s cloud seemed to extend from outside of the closed doors of the bed closet, infecting everyone who entered his house. He, too, had considered shifting at night as opposed to joining her in their bed. Only the certain knowledge of how this would make him look to his village kept him from doing so.
He opened the closet doors and found her once again, where he left her on the morntide, lying in bed and staring at the closet’s intricate ceiling.
“You will attract bedsores if you continue in this manner.”
No answer.
“Did you at least take meals with my family this day? I would not have our pup starved because of you.”
No answer.
Fenris set his jaw before removing his tunic and trousers and crawling into the bed in his linen underclothes.
It was becoming harder for him to believe that only a week ago, they had created the life in her belly on a tide of passion. He remembered the way her wet heat had gripped him, demanding all of his seed, even in her anger. Now they lie there, side-by-side, stiff like strangers or corpses. He smelled no arousal on her, and even her anger seemed to have disappeared, leaving but the shell of the vibrant woman who had told him only her Christian deity kept her from killing him in his sleep.
This is when he knew he must heed his aunt’s advice. Even if it was unbecoming of a Fenris. He could not abide any more nights like this one.
Chapter 16
WHAT she missed the most was the anger, Chloe thought to herself. She hadn’t realized it had been fueling her ability to deal with being thrust over a thousand years into the past until it slowly ebbed away, leaving only a heavy sadness in it’s place.
And she had been seriously furious
at first, determined to punish the Viking for ripping her from everyone and everything she’d known and loved. But three days into it, she unexpectedly lost her biggest supporter while walking to the toilet pit—which was exactly what it sounded like, by the way, with only a waist-high structure made of sticks to give its user any privacy. As she was coming out the longhouse’s only door, she saw Fenris for the first time outside since the day she arrived.
Unlike that day, he was now dressed in a silk tunic top and wool leggings that framed his tree trunk legs even tighter than the pants he’d shown up in Colorado wearing. Around his shoulders he wore a cloak and hood, much like the one his friend, Randulfr, had been wearing when they entered the town, except apparently he had taken out a polar bear to get his coat, because it was white. And just in case there was any danger of someone not getting what animal it was made of, the polar bear’s head sat on top of the Viking’s own, complete with shiny black eyes and a vicious set of polar bear fangs hanging over his forehead.
Being from a time when polar bears were on the endangered species list and the subject of numerous nature specials, Chloe should have been appalled. But the truth was, with his loose red hair falling in shiny waves around his shoulders and shimmering against the white of the fur, the Viking looked like nothing less than a rock star.
At the moment, he stood with his hands clasped in front of him while two men, standing before him, spoke forcefully, each pointing at a goat tied to a nearby pole.
After they were done, Fenris asked them a couple of questions, which they answered at the same time, each trying to shout over the other until Fenris raised his hand and said a few words. After that, one of the men whooped and went to grab the goat’s rope.
To the other man, who had now folded his arms with a sour look on his face, Fenris said a few more words, to which the man nodded before walking away.
She was dead curious about what had just gone down, but realized she had lingered too long at the scene, when Fenris caught her eye.
“You have finally decided to leave our bed?” The thought appeared inside her head,
And that was when the anger started to fade. Because she realized then that while Fenris’s people needed him to be their alpha, to lead them, and serve as the judge and jury for small arguments, there was no one offline awaiting her return back in her own time.
Rafe hated her. The entire town of Wolf Springs had pretty much turned against her before she left. Her online fans would miss the Black Mountain Woman show, and her sponsors would wonder what happened to her. But Rafe’s father wasn’t dumb. If too many people started asking questions, they’d just log on to her blog and leave a goodbye note. Her fans would be sad, but no one would truly miss her. No one needed her back in her time like Fenris’s people needed him. She had no family, she had no friends, and she had no community, which meant despite everything she had tried to build and do, since getting left on the side of the road by her parents, she was essentially back where she started. A lone wolf in a place she did not know.
And suddenly she became tired, too tired to stand even a moment longer.
She looked away from the Viking and used the ridiculous toilet before trudging back to the bed closet and closing herself in. She fell asleep and dreamed of nothing. And when she awoke, she needed to use the toilet pit again. So she did, and then she came back to bed and stared at the ceiling until sleep overtook her again. And when she woke, it was time for the toilet pit again.
This continued on for how long, she didn’t know. On a few trips the rest of the people who lived in the longhouse would be gathered around the table eating, and the same woman who had hugged her like she knew her on that first day, the one with a face full of wrinkles, crisp gray eyes like the Viking’s, and a head full of silver hair that fell all the way down her back, would grab her by the arm. She’d press a piece of bread covered with one meat or another into Chloe’s hand and wouldn’t let her go until she finished eating it and had drunk at least a horn of goat’s milk, which always seemed to be within her reach. And that was how she came to learn the Old Norse words for eat and drink, the only two words she knew besides thank you and the spell words that had thrown her back in time.
The woman no longer looked as happy as she had on the day they entered the village. And she regarded Chloe with a mix of sadness and pity when she finally let go of her hand.
Chloe’s world became the beige of the bed closet, with her days consisting of sleeping, using the toilet pit, occasionally being forced to eat by a little old lady, and staring at the carving on the bed’s closet’s ceiling for hours on end. It was a rather intricate scene of two wolves engaged in battle, while above it, a woman with a rounded belly and a man stood facing each other, she with a garland of flowers around her head, he with a crown. The couple was encircled by wolves, all of which seemed to be howling at the moon.
Chloe couldn’t help but wonder at its origins. But that would mean asking Fenris, and she still wasn’t talking to him, even though he had become the only other spot of color, besides the old lady who made sure she ate, in her days. Occasionally, she’d still be awake when he joined her in bed and the Viking would push a couple of sentences into her mind, usually surly ones, that she was able to take a little pleasure in not answering. But not much.
When he joined her in bed that night, he said, “You will attract bedsores if you continue in this manner.”
She didn’t answer.
“Did you at least take meals with my family this day? I would not have our pup starved because of you.”
She didn’t answer, though that did bring her a tiny pin prick of guilt, because she’d need to get her act together if she wanted to deliver a healthy baby, especially in a time period without prenatal care. The guilt actually made her feel a little better. She was beginning to feel grateful for the ability to feel anything at all.
Eventually the Viking came to lie down beside her, his body stiff beside hers, and even though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel the anger radiating off of him as she drifted off to sleep again... only to be shaken awake what felt like just a few hours later.
She opened her eyes to see the Viking standing above the bed.
He held out the fox pelt the gatekeeper had given her. “You will come with me now.”
She just looked back at him, letting her lack of action serve as her denial of his command.
“Do not force me to throw you over my shoulder,” he said, beckoning her with his hand. “Come now.”
She got out of bed and took the fox fur from him. Partly because she didn’t doubt the asshole would throw her over his shoulder, but mostly out of curiosity. What could he want her to see so badly that he’d wake her in the middle of the night?
When they emerged from the longhouse, a half-moon was still high in the sky, which along with the stars, was all the light they needed to guide their way through the village, toward the small forest that stood just beyond the lake.
They walked together in silence, just like they had when they came down the mountain. This time, however, he slowed his steps so she could walk beside him as opposed to behind him.
They stopped just outside the forest, where a pack of what looked like fifteen to twenty large wolves all lie together in a pile of mostly red, but some yellow, bodies.
He let her observe them for a few moments before saying, “The yellow wolves are our servants and their children, who have all come here from another land. The wolves do take thralls as the humans do as wolves will serve no other, even by force. But if a family has great debt, they may offer themselves at our secret market to serve in the house of another so as to pay it back along with receiving a place to live and food to eat. So have these wolves come to live with us.”
He pointed to the red wolves. “These red wolves be my family, my two cousins, their mates, their children, my mother’s sister, and her mate and children.”
He then pointed to a smaller silver wolf, sleeping near the edge of the p
ack. “And that is my aunt, my father’s sister. She is an accomplished sorceress. In fact, it was she who did give me the fated mates spell. She is also the one who will start teaching you our language on the morrow. You will come out of our bed closet every morn as I do and not return to it until the eve as I do. From this moment on, you are no longer the dark beauty from a foreign land. You are our queen and my family is now your own.”
Fenris had half-expected the dark beauty to start talking, just so she might balk at his command as she had done when he attempted to lie in the way of man and woman with her. But he received no answer after making his speech, which made him clench his teeth and greatly lean on his patience so as not to demand acknowledgement of his decree.
And when he woke on the morn, her side of the bed lay empty.
He growled in frustration. If she had run away yet again... he didn’t finish that thought, fearing the dark place his mind went.
He burst out of the bed closet with an angry yell, only to find the she-wolf and his entire family staring at him from the communal table where they all sat. She was now fully clothed in his mother’s over tunic and hangerok, though she had used simple clothes pins as opposed to the bronze wolf brooches she had been given to the keep the straps in place at her chest. He also spied that she was sharing a bowl of porridge and a loaf of bread with his aunt as if the two were old friends.
“My brother’s son,” his aunt cried out. “You have failed to gift your wife a woman’s dagger. She is forced to share my bread, so any passerby would think I am the queen and she the old witch.”
Since human women were not allowed to carry weapons of any kind by human Norse laws, she-wolves took great pride in their women’s daggers, which they used for eating and cutting. The only reason he had yet to gift his mate with one was because she’d yet to have need of it, spending the majority of her time in their bed closet as she did.