Bound Beauty Page 2

  But claws and sharp teeth were better than scars and Vynasha had accepted this and more to save little Wyll, to give the free people beyond the castle a chance. A reckoning was coming, between the cursed castle Bitterhelm and those they had once hunted in the valley below. This was why she had spent the past three moons playing at blood majik with Erythea Iceveins. She needed to be ready if she were to face Grendall and overcome their bond.

  Please, let it be enough.

  “Careful, you’ll lose focus if you are distracted,” Erythea’s soft voice interrupted.

  Vynasha blinked, and her hold on the furry creature’s mind waned. She winced as the rodent hissed at them before scurrying away. Its white fur blended perfectly with the snow.

  Erythea giggled and propped her grimoire in the crook of her arm as she approached Vynasha. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have spoken up.”

  Vynasha accepted the girl’s offered flask and greedily drank the thinned mead. This always happened after they spent hours practicing.

  Witchery.

  Blood magic.

  She could only imagine what the rest of the village might say if they learned the truth behind these “hunting trips.” Vynasha was supposed to be teaching the little Iceveins to read the forest like a good little wolf. The truth was something they would never accept. Then again, the village remained in Vynasha’s debt, as Grandmother liked to say. The beast might have destroyed everything had Vynasha not given it a merciful death. And none had forgotten the power behind her call the night she and Wolfsbane had howled at the moon.

  “Do you think we should begin testing your ability with two at once?” Snowflakes melted against Erythea’s silver hair. The girl smiled as Vynasha handed back the flask then slipped the strap over her shoulder. “You’re getting better at holding their will to yours. Good thing, too, if we can ever hope you’ll match the enchantress’s ability.”

  Vynasha eyed her little friend as she helped Erythea clean up evidence of their bloody ritual. She clenched the ruby-studded dagger in her split palm with more force than necessary. Vynasha had yet to decipher the runes etched into its side, but Baalor’s words had left her wondering.

  “Whoever gave you this must have thought a great deal of you.”

  “We’ll try it with two tomorrow,” Thea affirmed. “I’m convinced this is part of how Soraya was able to curse so many at once.” The girl snorted. “Well, that, and a scary amount of power.”

  Vynasha stretched out aching limbs and pushed her loose curls behind her ear. “Power will only take you so far.” This much she was certain of. Ever since her failure to heal little Wyll… Vynasha no longer blindly trusted in power. They knew better now, thanks to Erythea’s mother’s grimoires.

  Thea slipped the book into her pack, and together, they began the journey home.

  Home.

  No longer did Vynasha mourn thoughts of Whistleande Village and the cabin she had built over her family’s ashes. Home had been her nephew’s strained heartbeat against her ears and winter looming like Death over them, whispering, “Give him to me. You cannot hide forever.”

  Erythea’s sigh interrupted Vynasha’s darker thoughts. The girl was always chattering about every thought that entered her head. “I’ve never seen spring, did you know?”

  Vynasha blinked and, for a moment, saw the valley of Whistleande, carpets of fuchsia, heather, and sage grass.

  Thea touched stray branches, infusing blue tendrils of energy into the sleeping buds. “My majik is tied to the earth like Mother’s. It wants to end this winter and let things grow.” She glanced over her shoulder at Vynasha with a crooked smile. “Did you know the last true spring hasn’t come in an age?”

  Vynasha pressed her claws into her palms. “Since the curse,” she whispered. Her voice held a rasp she hadn’t been able to shake ever since the fire. Not even her transformation under the curse could hide what she had been before.

  Murderer.

  Monster.

  “Are you all right?” Erythea reached back to grab Vynasha’s hand, concern in her gaze. Her eyes were too old for so young a face.

  Vynasha nodded, though her attempted smile felt false.

  Thea squeezed Vynasha’s hand. “We practiced too long today. Come, Grandmother’s stew will make it better.” She leaned in until her shoulder brushed Vynasha’s arm and teased, “The twins say the pack should return for the festival soon.”

  Vynasha couldn’t help but tense at what her young friend hadn’t said.

  Baalor.

  She hadn’t seen him in three moons, not since she had agreed to stay and live with his family.

  “Some will talk. If a female moves into a man’s household, it means certain things,” he had warned. And sure enough, there had been whispers. It had been so long since Vynasha had needed to worry about the opinions of others that she wasn’t bothered. People had been talking about her since before the fire had stolen her family.

  “What are you thinking about?” Thea asked.

  Vynasha fought the urge to groan and forced a calm she didn’t feel. This was another thing they had practiced. “I’m thinking if we stay out here any longer, we’ll freeze to death.”

  Thea laughed. “What a silly idea! I don’t believe any of our pack has frozen to death before.” The girl winked and leaned into Vynasha’s side. “I may not shift like the others, but Grandmother says I still have wolf’s blood.”

  Vynasha wrapped her arm about the girl’s shoulders and savored the warmth of contact. She hadn’t realized how deprived of touch she has been before. This was yet another thing the curse had altered. If anything, she craved contact and warmth.

  While the center of the Forgotten village housed the Wolv guardians, the outskirts were home to what remained of the mirror folk. Vynasha had met a few of them at Erythea’s side. Occasionally, she caught a woman with bark skin and vines and flowers in her hair watching them practice, alongside a man with ebony skin and horns. Others, children with hooves and fur, scales and wings, took turns spying on the curse breaker, as they called her now. Today only the ebony male with pronged horns watched them pass through the edge of the wood. The others were already in their hidden homes.

  Erythea waved enthusiastically at the horned man and ducked her head when she caught Vynasha’s eye. “You are not my only friend.”

  Vynasha kept her smile closed over her sharp teeth, the constant reminder that she had more in common with the mirror folk than with the Wolvs. Except for Ceddrych.

  She couldn’t think about Ceddrych, not now as they entered the paths taking them behind painted houses and torchlights. The fires never went out, no matter the cold or lack of fuel. The mirror folk saw to that, Vynasha had learned. There was much more to the relationship between guardian and mirror folk than she had once imagined. And still more they hadn’t explained.

  But this was for another night, when the promises of Baalor’s return and Grandmother’s stew weren’t looming before her. Tonight she would not be a curse breaker, and she would not dream dreams, and she would learn to be happy.

  “At last! I nearly asked the bloody twins to sup with me for want of company,” was Grandmother’s greeting.

  “Sorry, Grandmother, we lost track of the sun.” Erythea’s tone was apologetic, but she set her pack with its forbidden grimoire near the staircase and skipped her way to Ilya’s side. “Is it ready?”

  “Just so,” Ilya replied.

  Steaming bowls of cooked meat and herbs called Vynasha nearer to the table. She added her bundle to the girl’s and couldn’t help but sweep the entry and large kitchen with her gaze.

  “He has not returned, girl,” Ilya called.

  “Do not tease her so, Grandmother.” Thea’s words were awkward around a mouthful of stew.

  “I have every right to tease my children, pup,” Ilya replied while setting another bowl before Vynasha’s chair.

  Careful to avoid the elder female’s sharp gaze, Vynasha carried the bowl to sit before the hearth ins
tead. Much as Vynasha appreciated and had come to love the Iceveins matriarch, the female was too cunning. She saw too much already.

  Ilya pretended not to notice Vynasha’s choice of seating. “How did it go today, pup?”

  Vynasha pretended not to hear Thea’s answer.

  “She’s ready to control two at once without losing control.”

  Blood and guts and bits of fur painted the snow and her ruined furs.

  Vynasha winced at the memory of the last time she had lost control of her damned powers. As she did every day, she wondered how much easier this would be with the amulet.

  “Push her when you can, pup. In three moons, the attacks have not let up.”

  “I know. But the border is safe again.” Erythea was too young to speak with such gravity.

  “For now,” Ilya grumbled. “If she cannot control it, they will break through.”

  Vynasha could feel the old female’s gaze on her back. It was no secret Ilya wanted more from their curse breaker.

  “Please, Grandmother, we are doing everything we can. The texts are very old. If you could just tell us what you know.”

  “What I know,” Ilya interrupted, “is you are wasting time hunting with that monster, Wolfsbane, when you should be organizing our forces and taking the fight to them.”

  Before it is too late. Before someone else dies.

  Vynasha felt a familiar itch digging beneath her skin. The stew lost its flavor. She craved the hunt. She dropped the bowl into her lap and clenched her fists to contain the change. It had been coming on harder, worse since they had begun practicing.

  You are not only a beast with claws. You are a queen.

  Or so the beasts she met claimed.

  “WON’T YOU OPEN your eyes?” the voice crooned.

  Vynasha stiffened as familiar sensations washed over her, the sound of dripping water on cobblestone, the scent of her beast. She opened her eyes in fear and released a breath of relief to meet a pair of emerald rather than silver.

  “Baalor?” Her voice was scratchy from sleep, strained from more nightmares, no doubt.

  Concern creased a faint line between his brows, but then his fingers brushed her curls from her face, and he smiled. “I have missed your face, witch.”

  Vynasha bit her lower lip and didn’t mind the prick of sharp teeth, not when his were sharper. “Wish I could say the same, brute.” She reached to touch his beard and took in his haggard look. “You just got back.”

  Baalor’s smile widened, though it couldn’t disguise his fatigue. Or the darkness lingering in his eyes. “Do you always sleep by the fire when I am away?”

  Vynasha shrugged and pushed up on her elbow. “When I’m home.”

  Home. The word was wondrous and strange to her still. For all her weariness of Ilya’s meddling ways, Vynasha wouldn’t trade her or Thea for all the majik in the world.

  She didn’t even realize her error until Baalor growled low. “You have been hunting with Wolfsbane.”

  Vynasha released a breath between her teeth. “He wouldn’t hunt with your pack, remember. Wouldn’t you rather I watch him than let him wander your lands unfettered?”

  A flash of luminous green effused his eyes with a supernatural glow. The illusion, a hint of his curse, always appeared when emotion got the better of the pack master. “I would rather keep you safe and put him in the earth with all the innocents he butchered.”

  Vynasha sighed. “How many times will we argue about this?”

  Baalor cocked an amused eyebrow, and his hand came to rest at her hip. “Until you admit I am right. I don’t trust that human.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  Baalor’s grip tightened. “Watch your tone, witch. I mean it.”

  “Or what? I’m stronger than you now. You couldn’t best me in a fair fight.”

  “Care to find out?” Baalor tickled her side.

  Vynasha gasped and couldn’t help the squeal that escaped her lips.

  “Shh!” He covered her mouth with one hand. Baalor’s eyes crinkled at the corners, and his chest heaved with repressed laughter. “You trying to wake the whole village?”

  Vynasha blinked away tears. She couldn’t remember the last time she had laughed this hard. Baalor allowed her to peel his hand away. “I suppose I’ve missed arguing with you, after all,” she whispered with a sigh.

  The darkness in Baalor’s eyes lightened. “I ran ahead of the pack. I—” he ducked his head “—could not wait any longer.”

  Her smile faded, but the warmth in her chest bloomed, even as her blood thrummed with traitor over and over and…

  Baalor’s hand traced patterns over her neck. “I have not stopped thinking of you.”

  Vynasha caught his hand and swallowed past her fears and the ugly voice in her head always whispering, “Never be enough.”

  Instead, Vynasha brought his fingers to her lips and lightly ran her sharp teeth over his callouses. She inhaled his scent, the forest and winter and desire. He smelled like home.

  Baalor’s breath hitched in his throat. “Stay with me tonight,” he half whispered, half growled. It wasn’t a command. He could never presume to command her, as much as he might want to. As much as she might want him to.

  Vynasha nodded and allowed him to gather her in his arms. She buried her nose in the skin of his neck as he carried her up the stairs. Gods above, she had missed him, this stubborn, arrogant Wolv. He was something she had never expected when she had brought her ailing nephew to the forbidden mountains. Three moons was long enough that Vynasha had begun to doubt the effect he had on her. Distance and time had made what happened between them seem less significant.

  Or made it easier to pretend he does not care for you or you for him.

  Baalor had awakened something primal inside her from the moment they met. She knew he felt it as strongly as she. What was more, she knew he accepted her. Curse breaker, scarred witch, it was no matter to him. The festival would happen tomorrow, and oh, how she longed to be what Baalor and Erythea needed.

  He took his time undressing. Vynasha helped clean the grime from his silver hair until it gleamed in the candlelight. As she lay in the safety of his arms, the lack of layers between them made her cheeks burn.

  Baalor ran his fingers down the curve of her side. His gaze hadn’t left hers when he could help it.

  Three months.

  Time felt different here in the Wylder Mountains, but three moons was far too long.

  “I dreamed of you,” he whispered. She could see the reflection of her golden beastly eyes in his irises. “I dreamed of you hunting in the forest. So often I thought I caught your scent on the wind. It was everything I could do to hunt your beasts.”

  She tapped his chest with a claw. “They aren’t my beasts.”

  “Moons practicing majik with my daughter and you still haven’t made peace with what you are?” Baalor arched a single brow and pulled her gently, firmly until her torso was pressed snugly to his beneath the furs.

  “I—” she stuttered. “How in seven hells did you know we were practicing?”

  He gave a long-suffering sigh but seemed amused rather than upset as she had expected. “I married a witch once before, remember?”

  It is the village guardians we should fear.

  He had as much as told her this before. Why did she expect the worst from Baalor at every turn? What did this say about her sanity, always expecting the other boot to drop?

  He pressed a kiss to the corner of her mouth, stealing her breath and her attention. “I’ve asked much of you, curse breaker, asking you to mar your reputation by living with us, stealing you from your brother.”

  “That is not what happ—”

  His finger at her lip stalled her argument. “I did steal you. I knew you weren’t meant for me, still I wanted to keep you from the moment we first met. Do you know that, Beauty?”

  She bit her lip at the endearment she had tried to hate. On Baalor’s lips, it
was simple as truth, as the breath from their lungs and the beasts in their hearts.

  “I have been gone too long. I know it is much to ask more of you, with all we must face…”

  Vynasha kissed him, startling the teasing glint from his eye. “Shut up and kiss me.” She muffled his laughter with her kisses until he held her even closer and the wild creatures beneath their human skins demanded they give and take more.

  She could not say why she had interrupted him. It had been implied what the festival meant to the village, and from Ilya’s hints, Vynasha could guess what was expected of her. And while she loved Baalor, her blood continued to thrum with the torturous word, traitor…traitor…

  In her dreams, the princely beast’s fur gleamed in the candlelight. The wine was a heady blend of tart and elderberry sweet on her tongue. The chandelier crystals tinkled together above them. And the winds howled with echoes of the wolves that hunted her.

  “Grandmother, have you seen Vynasha? She wasn’t in her room.” Erythea’s voice carrying through the house dragged her back to Baalor’s arms wrapped tightly around her. His nose pressed against her hair, and his chest breathed slowly in and out while his daughter continued her search.

  “I sent her on early to the forest to check our traps,” came Ilya’s casual excuse.

  “Grandmother, why didn’t you wake me? I would have seen to it.”

  “Nonsense. Is the curse breaker your servant? Now, eat your porridge. I have a mind to send you to the village for news of your father’s return.”

  Vynasha couldn’t make out Thea’s mumbled reply and bit back the hysterical urge to laugh. The walls were far too thin. Blood rushed up her neck, blushing her cheeks, as she wondered if they had woken anyone in the night.

  Baalor’s breath quickened behind her, and he stretched, tugging her closer, until her backside was firmly pressed to his front. She caught her breath and struggled to battle the desire she felt with him so near. Physical intimacy was still so new to her that Vynasha didn’t know what to make of Baalor’s easy affection. He touched her far too much before others and still far too little to ever completely satisfy her.