Beauty’s Beast(41)
Author: Amanda Ashley

“I don’t know what you mean.”

She offered him another spoonful of broth. “You’re one of us, are you not?”

“One of you?”

“Never mind.” Frowning, she fed him the rest of the thick soup. “You should rest now. You will feel better after a good night’s sleep.”

He didn’t want to sleep, he wanted answers to the questions tumbling through his mind, needed to find Kristine, but his body, warmed by the broth and weakened from loss of blood, cried out for rest. Valaree covered him with a thick quilt, then went to sit beside the fire once more.

He stared at her through heavy-lidded eyes until sleep claimed him.

Chapter Sixteen

It was after dusk the following night when Erik awoke. He sat up, surprised to find himself alone in the cave. A small fire burned near the rear of the cavern. His first thought was for Kristine. He had to find her before it was too late, had to get her away from Charmion while he was still human enough to accomplish it.

He sat there for several minutes, gathering his strength. His right shoulder throbbed painfully, but other than that, he felt remarkably strong. He removed the bandages from his left arm and side. Both were healed, with only faint scars to show he had been hurt at all. He ran his hand down his left side, scarcely able to believe his own eyes.

Rising, he found his clothes and boots and put them on. He searched for several minutes, but couldn’t find his mask. He felt naked and vulnerable without it.

He was prowling the cave for something to eat when he caught the smell of fresh blood. Turning, he saw the wolves enter the cave. The gray one was carrying a lamb in its jaws.

Erik frowned. There had been three wolves last night; this evening there were four.

The gray wolf dropped the lamb carcass near the fire, then sat down. Two of the black wolves stretched out beside the male.

The fourth wolf lifted its head and let out a long, heart-wrenching howl and then, while Erik watched in slack-jawed astonishment, the creature began to change shape. It was an awesome thing to watch, frightening yet fascinating to see the thick black pelt recede and become soft human flesh, to hear the pop and crackle of bones and muscles realigning themselves, until Valaree stood before him, her long black hair falling down her bare back and over her shoulders.

She smiled at him, apparently not bothered by her nudity. “Good evening, Erik.”

He nodded, unable to speak. The word werewolf rose in the back of his mind. He knew now why they had saved him. They thought he was one of them, trapped between his human half and his wolf half. He had never believed the tales he had heard of werewolves, had thought them only idle tales told to frighten children. Until now. “Does it hurt?”

“The Change?” There was a pile of clothing near the wall of the cavern. She reached for a long gray robe and slipped it over her head. “There is a certain amount of pain.”

She picked up the lamb and the scent of blood and raw meat filled his nostrils. “Do you want it raw,” she asked, “or cooked?”

Erik’s mouth watered at the thought of tearing into the lamb’s still-warm flesh. Horrified, he shook his head. “Cook it!”

Valaree regarded him curiously. “You have not yet fully accepted what you are, have you?”

“What do you mean?”

“There is no shame in being what we are. Our kind have walked the earth for countless centuries.” She gestured at his left side. “You see what denying it has brought you.”

“I am not like you,” he replied quietly. “I am not a werewolf.”

“No?” She cocked her head to one side in a gesture that was becoming familiar. “What are you, then?”

“Just a man.”

“Indeed?” She glanced pointedly at his left side, and he knew she was remembering the long black hair now covered by his clothing.

“I would rather be what you are than what I am becoming!” he exclaimed. “At least you can be human when you wish. My humanity will soon be lost to me and I will be nothing but a beast.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am under a powerful curse, one that can never be broken.”

Understanding dawned in Valaree’s deep brown eyes. “Surely there is a way to break the spell.”

Erik laughed bitterly. “Yes, but only a woman long dead can end it.”

Valaree closed the distance between them and laid a slender hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry. Truly I am.” She regarded him for a long moment, her dark eyes filled with sympathy. “You are welcome to stay here, with me and my family. We will help you in any way we can.”

“You are most generous, Valaree.” Erik glanced at the wolves who were lying beside the fire, watching him through dark, intelligent eyes.

“You will stay with us, then?”

“As tempting as your offer is, I cannot. There’s something I must do.”

Valaree looked up at him. He could smell her desire for him. She ran her fingertips over the half of his face that was no longer human, softly stroking his transformed cheek. Her touch, so gentle, so accepting, made him ache deep inside for things that could never be.

“I hope you will come back to us, Erik.”

Not knowing what to say, unwilling to make a promise he might not be able to keep, he didn’t say anything, merely smiled down at her.

“I will be here, waiting,” she said softly. “If you ever have need of our help, you have only to call my name, and I will answer.”

It gave him a curious sense of comfort to know that when he was fully a beast, there was a place where he would be welcome, accepted.

He left the cave that night, his hood pulled low over his face. Without his mask, he dared not travel during the light of day. With luck, he would reach Charmion’s fortress at the top of Cimmerian Crag before dawn.

Driven by an unrelenting sense of urgency, he pushed Raven hard, pausing only briefly to rest the stallion. And always, in the back of his mind, he said a prayer for Kristine’s safety.

Dawn’s fingers were lifting the cloak of night from the earth when he reached the foot of Cimmerian Crag. He stared up the long, winding road, a shiver of apprehension sending icy tendrils down his spine. He had learned to his sorrow just how powerful Charmion was, and only his fear for Kristine’s safety compelled him to confront the witch now. He glanced at his left hand, felt the familiar horror unfurl within him. No matter how often he looked at his deformed body, he never got over the shock, the revulsion. Always, he felt the sickening fear in his gut, and with it an overpowering helplessness.