Page 16 of Wolves’ Witch

Chapter Eight

Aubert had been prepared for her to flee. They both had. An untrained wolf was a reckless one, and the call to be in the forest, to be free, was strong. He had not been prepared for the reaction of his body as she had shifted back. Lying on the cot, looming over her, the soft mounds of her naked breasts flush against his bloodied bare chest, Aubert forgot how to breathe.

His gums throbbed, and his canines threatened to descend. The pulse of his wolf was an insistent chant in his brain. Mark. Claim. Mine. She already stank of his brother. Edmond’s saliva mixed with her blood coursing through her veins. He would—

Aubert threw himself off the cot and backed away, his chest heaving. Edmond sat back on his haunches, a curious expression on his face. Not the horror storming through Aubert’s chest like a charging warhorse. More like hope, stuttering, fragile, but there all the same.

No. She could not be…

Aubert spun on his heel and stormed from the cottage, staggering out into the sunlight. He stared out into the forest unseeing as he sucked in huge lungsful of air. His brother exited the cottage. Not the panicked rush as Aubert had. Calm and determined.

Edmond stopped beside him, and they stood for a moment in silent solidarity. “She calls to me, Aubert.”

“No.” He speared his finger at his twin. “Do not say it.” His hands trembled. The knowing in his brother’s eyes was disconcerting. He had never reacted to a woman like this. Not since…

“Tell me you do not feel it.” Edmond stood in front of him, eye to eye and toe to toe. “That pull to never let her out of your sight.”

Aubert snarled, shoving his brother aside, and stalked from the clearing. He kept going. Faster, until he was running, pushing into the trees as though the entire keep guard were close behind him. He would have run forever had he not crested an escarpment. He stood there, his hands on his knees, forcing air into his seizing lungs. Could he do this again?

Edmond climbed the escarpment and stood beside him, staring out over the forest as though their peace was not about to be shattered. As though old wounds would not soon bleed again and perhaps tear apart the bond they had forged. “She calls to you, too. Does she not?”

“You are wrong.” The pressure in his mind was almost too much to bear. “She cannot be.”

“You watch her as much as I do. You have scarce left her side.”

“She was unwell. Death was knocking. And Marceline… Then we turned her. We did not know if she would live or die. Reasons enough to watch her.”

His brother crossed his arms and leveled a stare at Aubert’s groin, at the proof of his arousal.

“She is a beautiful woman. And naked.” What man would not be aroused by her? Merde. The feel of her beneath him was burned into his body like a brand. It was something he would not soon forget. “She is not… She cannot be…”

Edmond shrugged. “You may deny it all you want, but you know I am right. You know you wanted to sink your teeth into her neck and claim her as I did.”

“You are mistaken. Werewolves have but one true mate. Ours is gone.”

But the truth of it hung in the air between them. The longing, the pull toward the woman in the cottage not something he could ignore. No matter how much he wished it.

Aubert stared at his brother. Yes. No. This could not be happening. Not again. He wanted to howl his anguish to the world. To run from it. Hide himself deep in the forest and never return. To be graced with another chance for a mate, with the pack in such dire need, was a gift. But it was double-edged, for she was not only his mate.

Fates be. Two wolves, one woman. One mate. How could fate be so cruel as to do this to them? Again. Aubert roared at the cloudless sky. The last time this had happened, his brother had almost died. By his hand. His twin.

Edmond rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We can do this.”

He shrugged his brother off. How? With the pack on the verge of extinction, they needed mated pairs and their pups to build their numbers. One by one, their fellow wolves had found their mates. A boon, even if the aching loneliness of never having a true mate, of having to settle for any woman who would be willing to have them, to become like them, threatened to eat him up inside. Gaharet, then Aimon, Ulrik and most recently D’Artagnon. Could they put themselves through this again? One of them must surely forsake having a mate, so the other could. They could not both have her. Could he stand by and watch as Edmond took her as his, and filled her womb with pups? Could Edmond? No. It was impossible. They knew that from experience.

Sabine had taught them that.

Edmond picked up a handful of stones and tossed one over the edge, watching it tumble until it disappeared into the darkness. “It will be different this time.”

Merde. His brother was losing his wits if he thought this would end well. Even now, his skin itched to return to the cottage. To her. His brother would be feeling it, too, yet he skipped stones over the edge as if he had not a care in the world. “How?”

“We will not rush things this time. We go into this with steadier heads and a decade more experience.” Edmond tossed another stone, watching it drop into the trees below. “She is a newly turned wolf in need of training. It will give us time to get to know her. To see what sort of woman she is.”

“I do not want—”

“Yes, you do. You want her as much as I.”

His brother was right. He did want her. With his body and his soul. But he did not want to want her. How would this time be any different? It could be worse. Mayhap this time he would kill his brother.