Lydia Dare - Wolf Next Door

"Don't let Will kill him, please," Prisca begged. "He'll never forgive himself if he does."

The largest wolf, with the white stripe over his ear, walked over to the fighting pair and stood above them, his growl menacing and ferocious. Her wolf glanced up at him, as though beseeching him to let them be. To let him kill the feral wolf and deal with the consequences later. But the pack leader just growled again and Will released his hold. Brimsworth slumped to the ground, blood pooling around his body.

Her wolf approached her, and she took a step back. It was a reflex, nothing more. He looked wounded when she moved away from him. A whimper escaped his throat.

The pack leader nudged at the golden wolf until he shakily found his feet. Then the leader growled lightly until the rest of his pack followed him, slinking into the forest as if they'd never been there.

Thirty-Seven

Will wanted to go to her. But he was afraid to approach. He knew he'd been beastly with the golden wolf, Brimsworth. He'd nearly killed the man. And she'd seen it all. She'd seen him at his worst.

In truth, had Simon and Ben not arrived when they did, Brimsworth would be lying in a pool of his own blood, his very life source draining from his open wounds. It was one of the only ways to kill a Lycan, since they could heal themselves. To kill one of his kind, a Lycan had to inflict a sustained wound that would penetrate the flesh, causing the blood to drain from the body. When the body could no longer heal, the Lycan died.

Will had never seen it happen. But he'd heard the hushed stories at Canis House, the ones whispered about one wolf or another.

Yet tonight, he'd been there. He'd been the one on the hunt. He'd been the one who wanted to kill. He didn't know who he should be more disgusted with him—himself or Prisca. He should have had more control, but when he'd seen the beast scrape her delicate skin with his horrid fangs, he'd felt the rage boil within him and finally overflow.

And she'd watched it all. Every bloody moment. Damn it all to hell. Why had she come into the woods? He'd very clearly told her to stay put.

The confusion on her face was almost his undoing. If he could have transformed back at that very moment, he would have. He'd never had enough control to shift in and out of Lycan form at will. It could be done, but only through sheer strength of character. That strength was something he'd never possessed.

She didn't approach him. She didn't touch him. She didn't put her fingers into his hair and stroke him. She didn't want him.

He watched her, her eyes wide with what he assumed was trepidation. Maybe disgust. Then he heaved a sigh and turned to follow his pack into the woods. He'd watch to be sure she arrived home safely. But he wouldn't force her to tolerate his beastly presence any longer than necessary.

His ears perked up when he heard her voice. "William Westfield," she shouted. "Don't you

dare

walk away from me!"

His heart nearly pounded from his chest. He turned slowly, not even looking at her at first, afraid to see the expression on her face when he finally caught her gaze. What would he see? Censure? Disgust?

Very slowly, he looked at her face. She smiled softly at him, and his heart soared.

"Come here, Will," she said softly, sinking to the ground a few feet from him. He wanted to go to her more than he wanted the air he breathed. Dare he take the chance?

He took one step, his legs quivering with fear. She didn't move. She didn't run. So, he took another. His legs carried him forward until he was within her reach.

Please, touch me, Prissy!

He wanted to scream it. But, in this form, all he could do was make a highpitched whine.

Prisca motioned with her hands. "Come here, Will," she said, laughter in her voice. "I promise I won't bite."

But I will

, he thought, regretfully. He stepped closer, until her hand reached out and gently caressed the top of his head. Immediately, just like every visit with her, the tension and wildness flowed from his body and left him at peace. He leaned into her hand. She laughed and increased her strokes.

"How many nights have we spent just like this?" she asked wistfully.

Not nearly enough.

She leaned down and gently kissed his snout. "He didn't hurt you, did he?"

I wanted to ask you the same question.

"We need to talk, Will," Prisca sighed. "Change back to human form."

Would that I could. It's not that easy.

Will wanted nothing more than to lift her hair and search her creamy neck for marks made by Brimsworth. If he hurt one hair on her pretty little head, Will would kill him on the morrow, regardless of the consequences.

"Change, Will," she prompted again. "I know you can. I read about it."

She just didn't understand. Prisca reached up to wipe her neck. He almost got a glance at it, but she moved too quickly. She grimaced. "That wolf drooled on me. I need to wash." She shivered with disgust.

Will stood up to lead her back to The Hall. But she took off in the other direction.

Where are you

going, Priss?

"If I remember correctly, there's a stream that runs through here," she mumbled. "And it collects in a small pool." Then she squealed when she found it, a smile lighting her face.

Prisca very slowly began to unlace the bodice of her gown, glancing at him from under her hooded lashes. Desire engulfed him. He danced in place. She turned her back to him as she tugged her fichu from her cleavage. Then she shrugged out of the gown, stepping from the pile of fabric. "Don't want to get that wet," she mumbled, as she bent to dip her piece of cloth into the water.

She stood under the light of the moon wearing nothing but her chemise. She was positively unashamed of her body, maybe because it was perfect. But a small thought entered his mind, that perhaps she wasn't self-conscious now because she didn't see him as her equal.

Moonlight glinted off her hair. Rose-colored nipples called to him from the shadows of her chemise. Her scent swept over him. He inhaled deeply, and that was when he felt the change within himself. He loved her. She was his mate. They belonged to one another. He wasn't going to let a long tail and snout stand between them.

The pain of changing back was nothing compared to the joy of knowing he could. His body elongated, making him stand tall and erect. His ears moved from the top of his head.

She still had her back to him when he transformed. But he heard her heartbeat speed up, nonetheless. When he was fully in his human form, he growled loudly and ran forward, catching her about the waist as he pressed the front of his body against the back of hers. He would draw her into himself, if he was able.

Prisca spun in his arms and giggled. "I was wondering how much more I'd have to take off before you came to me."

***

Prisca squealed lightly as he scooped her up in his arms and placed her atop a nearby boulder. He cupped her face in his desperate hands, which shook against her cheeks. "Tell me you love me," he growled.

"Oh, Will," she began. She had so much to tell him. Where to start?

Will stepped back from her as his hands dropped from her face. She reached for him, to draw him back. He was completely naked, so there was no clothing to grab hold of. Instead, she fought to catch his fingers. When she did, she pulled him forward to stand between her parted knees and placed his hand over her heart. "You know I love you," she whispered.

"As I am?"

"Exactly as you are." She nodded. "I always have."

Will took the wet cloth from her hand and lifted her hair. He gently bathed her neck, wiping away all the remnants of Brimsworth. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" he asked softly, his voice leaden with concern.