Dark Wolf Page 5

  “Miss Kendrick and I will be in the library.” He entered the castle and headed across the hall, his grip still strong on Miranda’s arm. The woman needed protecting from that bastard Jarle and he was going to find a way to free her from the witch, even if it killed him to do so. His mate was not going to be bound to another soul. But first he had to make Miranda realize they were meant for each other.

  Rhys followed him a close step behind. “I notified Mortimer.”

  Callen stopped midstride. “Now why would you do that?”

  “I feared for your life.”

  “Call him back and tell him there’s no need to worry.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Verra.”

  His brother turned away, but not before snarling at Miranda.

  “I think I’ve made him mad,” she said.

  “He’ll get over it.” The scent of honeysuckle and orange filled his space again, stirred his senses like no fragrance ever did in the past. If he didna find a way to convince Miss Kendrick they were eternal mates, he’d go mad. Of that he was certain.

  In the library, Callen let go of Miranda’s arm.

  “I feel like I’ve just run a marathon,” she said. “And I have no frickin’ clue why.”

  He was going to have to explain about the whole bound heart thing. “Sit and I’ll get you some water.” The scent of her perfume wafted away as he left her side and headed for the bar.

  “I’ve never seen so many books in one room. Have you read them all?”

  “No,” he answered. “But some I’ve read multiple times. The bulk of the collection belongs to my father.” From the bar he watched Miranda maneuver about the room. As she inspected the bookshelves, she glided her fingers along the spines of the leather-bound volumes, running her hands over the gold lettering, going from one book to the next. “This is a magnificent collection. If I had books like these I’d never leave the room.”

  If he had a wumman like her, he’d never leave his bed. Her moves made him crave her touch, crave the feel of her fingers against his skin, the kiss of her lips against his mouth. God, but he was hopeless. And to think just a few days ago he thought he’d never mind a mate. Of course, convincing her of the fact was a different matter. No wumman deserved an Alpha-in-waiting who would probably never be top wolf. But even if she never accepted him, he was still going to free her from Jarle.

  She strolled over to his chair and dropped down. “Could this chair be any bigger? I think I can get lost in here.”

  He laughed. “All MacHendrie men are tall. You should see our beds.”

  Miranda’s cheeks went red.

  Damn. “That probably was not first date material, was it?”

  She shook her head. “You are so screwed, dude.”

  Rhys returned. Eyeing Miranda in the MacHendrie tartan chair, his mouth gaped.

  “What?” she asked.

  “You’re in the Alpha’s seat. And no one sits in the Alpha’s seat except for Bane of Wolfsden or his eldest son.”

  “Wow. Talk about taking the wolf thing to extremes. Next you’ll be telling me you all run around the grounds and howl at the full moon.”

  Callen didn’t comment.

  Neither did Rhys.

  “Okay. I was only joking.” Miranda started to get up.

  “Stay,” Cal said. “You’re fine right where you are.” He turned his focus on Rhys. “Is there a purpose to your presence right now?”

  “Mortimer wasn’t exactly sure you should be left alone up here.”

  He didna like the sound of that. “And?”

  Rhys fidgeted with the hem of his brightly colored shirt. “Vidar is on his way.”

  For the love of heaven. He did not need his uncle’s brother-in-law staying at Wolfsden Keep. The Viking was the most brooding wolf he’d ever come across, never mind the fact he and Vidar were barely on speaking terms. “When he gets here, take him to a guest room. I don’t want him disturbing my discussion with Miss Kendrick.”

  “Will do.” Rhys glared at Miranda, but didn’t linger.

  Grabbing a bottle of cold water, Callen walked over to the chair and sat down on the edge of the coffee table so he could face his mate. He handed her the drink and then set his cane on the sofa.

  “I take it your father is Bane of Wolfsden?” Miranda asked.

  “He is. And yes, I am the oldest son, heir to my father’s…legacy.” Explaining about the wolf pack just yet didn’t seem right.

  Miranda yawned. “I am really exhausted. I think something is wrong with me.”

  “You’re feeling tired because you’re not wearing your locket. How long have you had it?”

  “Since Jarle found me. It’s for warding off evil energy. I saw him perform the protection spell before he gave it to me.”

  “He lied. These lockets are magickal and are used strictly to bind one’s heart.”

  She bit her bottom lip, appeared to be concerned. Maybe even a bit frightened.

  “I’m not your enemy, Miranda. You can speak freely with me and I’ll do all in my power to help you.”

  A deep breath escaped her precious mouth. “In addition to stealing objects for Jarle, I bind hearts for him. I do so only because he’s threatened to kill me if I don’t. So I’m well aware of what those lockets are normally used for, but the witch swore this one was solely for protection.”

  “Don’t believe anything that bastard tells you.” Callen’s gaze drifted to the locket. “Do you mind if I open it?”

  Miranda shook her head.

  Callen worked the silver latch and popped the oval ornament in two. Inside sat a pulsing aura. A sprig of knotweed lay on top, a piece of obsidian wedged under the herb. “Here’s the cause of your heart being bound.” He pointed to the knotweed.

  Miranda leaned forward and studied the tarnished case holding her heart’s aura. “Take it out.”

  “If I remove the herb, Jarle will know since he’s the one who worked the spell. And while it’s connected to him in only a faint way, it’s enough that he’ll sense it’s been tampered with. I say leave it be for now but keep the locket off your neck.”

  She reached for his arm. “Can he tell if I’m not wearing it?”

  “Keep it near you, but not on you and you’ll be fine.” He handed the item back to her.

  “If I don’t get the sword Jarle sent me to retrieve, he’ll kill me. He has a violent temper. Others in my situation have gone missing, never to be seen again.”

  “I won’t let harm come to you. I promise.”

  Miranda sat back. “He found me on the street. I was in a terrible state. So bad, I don’t even like to talk about it. But Jarle helped me. His surgeons fixed my hands and feet.”

  Surgeons? That was a new one for the Viking witch. Sources at Wolfsden might not have been able track the bastard’s every move, but they had always managed to know what the witch was up to last even if it were after the fact. And surgeons were never mentioned. “What was wrong with you?”

  She lowered her head.

  “Miranda, I walk with a limp. You have nothing to fear from me. I would never judge you.”

  “This is going to sound ridiculous,” she said.

  “You can tell me anything.” He took her hand in his. “You’re safe with me. Your secrets are safe with me.”

  She swallowed. “I don’t really remember much. It’s all bits and pieces but my hands, they were like…like paws.”

  Now the change of eye color made sense. His sexy thief was more than just a witch, she also a wolf shifter. Cal let out a deep breath. He let go of Miranda’s hands and ran his palms over his face. “He lied to you. Jarle lied about all of it. He has no surgeons and your hands did not need fixing.”

  A look of fear veiled the woman’s face. “What do you mean?”

  He was going to have to tell her about being wolf and that might scare the hell out of her. She obviously never remembered shifting, with the exception of that one memory about her hands and feet. Who knew how
she’d take the news? Her wolf was being suppressed for some reason and he needed to find out why. If it was by her own doing, it would take time for her to learn to set it free. If it was by Jarle’s doing, releasing her wolf now could kill her. The matter needed to be discussed with care. “Do you remember anything else?”

  “Sometimes I recall scenes where I’m surrounded by doctors. Jarle said they were experimenting on me, but I’m not so sure. I never felt like anyone did anything to me, but rather the other way around. Of course I’ve never told Jarle about those specific memories.” She skimmed her fingers over the chair’s tartan and toyed with a stray thread. “I know it sounds totally bizarre.”

  Not to him. “You have nothing to worry about with me. And you’re safe at Wolfsden Keep, trust me on that. But I think we’ve talked enough for now. We can discuss more after dinner or in the morning, if you’d prefer. I’ll take you up to your room and then fetch some food from the kitchen.”

  “You’re letting me stay, even after I tried to steal your sword?”

  “I’ll never turn you over to Jarle. If you want to leave on your own accord, that’s different.” He prayed to God she didn’t want to leave him.

  “What about the artifacts?”

  The items from the dig were the least of his worries at the moment. “They can wait.”

  She toyed with the small hole in the chair’s plaid fabric. “I’ll have to check in with Jarle but not until mid-week. I can’t tell him I’ve confided in you.”

  “Of course not. We’ll think of something for you to say before the call needs to be made.”

  Miranda stood. “Can you really free me from the beast?”

  He certainly hoped so. If not he’d die trying. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power to see to it you’re not bound to that bastard.”

  If he couldn’t fight Jarle, he could always barter with his sword and his own soul. The Viking witch would probably be more than glad to add a Highland wolf to his horde of slaves. And for his mate, even if Miranda never wanted him, Callen was willing to give up all.

  Chapter Five

  Vidar arrived in his usual brooding mood and refused to wait anywhere but the main hall. Callen found him sitting on a pile of four camouflage-patterned duffle bags stacked next to the bottom of Wolfsden Keep’s main staircase, as he was coming down from the second floor after having settled Miranda in a guest room. The scent of lemon soap and crisp air lingered in the hall.

  “Vidar.”

  “Highlander.”

  At least the man acknowledged him, which was more than he’d expected. “I’m sorry Mortimer asked you to come all the way out here. There really was no need.”

  The Viking stood. “I may not understand what my sister sees in your uncle, but Katya is all I have. And for her, I am here. No other reason. Besides, I had just arrived in Copenhagen last night, so it was not a far trip. Inconvenient, yes. Long, no.” Reaching into his shirt pocket, Vidar retrieved a thin strip of leather and used it to pull back his blond hair into a low ponytail.

  Callen eyed the bags. “I take it you’ll be staying a while?”

  Vidar’s brow furrowed. “Why would think that?”

  He nudged his chin toward the stack of duffle bags.

  “Those do not contain clothes, but weapons.” Vidar reached behind the bags and pulled out an overstuffed backpack, then raised it high. “This carries clothes.”

  “I doubt we’ll be going to war, Viking.”

  “So say you. That bastard Jarle will have a different view. He may be a fellow Norseman, but he is no kin of mine. I detest the man.”

  At least they were on the same side in this incident. Encountering Vidar as an enemy had to be brutal. “I trust my uncle told you everything that Rhys told him?”

  “About Miss Kendrick grabbing your sword, yes.”

  Vidar made the whole thing sound a bit dirty, which it wasn’t. Though he did get quite an eyeful tackling Miranda afterward and he had to admit if he had his choice, he’d like to have the woman in his bed. But now was not the time to be thinking about Miss Kendrick’s finer assets. He cleared his head of all images of her lovely breasts. “I’ll need you to use your connections to find out what Jarle is planning to do with Miranda.”

  “The witch’s slave?”

  “Yes. But she won’t be for long. I have her heart and I intend to free her.”

  A slow grin crept across Vidar’s lips. “You are a sly one, Highlander.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You like this woman.”

  He was not giving the Viking details. “She’s an enemy of my enemy. Nothing more.”

  Vidar walked up to him and slapped him on the shoulder. “Maybe you and I are not so different.”

  He was nothing like Vidar. “We’re worlds apart.”

  “You’re wrong. We are two of a kind, you and me. You have no pack because of the curse Jarle placed on you when he injured your leg. And I have no woman because of the curse placed on my wolf when my heart was mistaken for a vampire’s and staked.”

  He’d never known the story behind Vidar’s moodiness. “I had no idea you were staked.”

  Vidar dropped his hand from Cal’s shoulder. “We will not speak of this again. Yes?”

  “Understood.”

  “Now, about Jarle. What do you need me to do?”

  Callen led Vidar in to the library. “I know you have vast connections with the Viking shifters. I need you to find out everything you can about Miranda Kendrick. She believes she’s from New York and possibly worked in the medical field.”

  “That is not much to go on.” Vidar helped himself to a beer at the bar. The man apparently had no problem making himself right at home.

  “She’s also wolf.”

  The Viking paused. “Now that I think of it, there was talk about two years ago, of a wolf captured by Jarle. But my men could not find proof of the story.” Vidar sauntered over to the sofa, sat down and then propped his boot-covered feet onto the coffee table. With a single twist of his bare hand, he popped the cap on the beer bottle and tossed it into the ashtray on the glass-topped end table.

  “Maybe Miranda is that wolf.” Callen took a seat on the opposite sofa.

  “If she is,” Vidar said, “then she would be the first female wolf Jarle had ever captured. He usually prefers vampires and other night creatures. I wonder what makes your Miranda so different?”

  He’d like to know that himself. “She’s not my Miranda.”

  “But she will be. I see it in your eyes. She’s your mate and you know it. You’ve smelled her scent, yes?” Vidar raised the beer to his lips and gulped.

  “Has Jarle employed a group of doctors lately?”

  A pensive look crossed the Viking’s rugged face as he lowered the bottle. He shook his head. “Not that I’m aware of. My sources keep fairly good tabs on the witch, though they don’t always know where he’s hiding, which is a major problem. But a medical staff would have been something we’d have found out about.”

  He wondered why Jarle had lied to Miranda. As his slave, he could have just had her do his bidding without covering up her background. “There must be something about Miss Kendrick that Jarle knows and needs. I don’t think he took her simply to capture a wolf. As you said, he’s never taken one of our kind in the past.”

  “No. He prefers to kill us, not jail us.”

  And yet Miranda had been kept alive for two years. He definitely needed to know why. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m going to leave you to have dinner with Rhys while I spend time with Miranda. With a bit of talk she might remember something more from her past.”

  “I tolerate you, Highlander. But not so much the other skirt-wearing man. Maybe I will eat alone tonight.”

  Callen stood. “Rhys is good company. And it’s called a kilt, not a skirt.”

  “They are the same.”

  “Oh, no they’re not. Also, if worn properly, they make tupping a hell of a lot easier.”

  �
�Tupping?”

  Callen huffed. “Sex.”

  It took Vidar a moment. “Oh. I see. Less clothes to remove if you wear nothing underneath. I will have to remember that, Highlander. Maybe I need a skirt myself.”

  The image of the Viking sitting on his sofa going commando in a kilt was not something Callen cared to think about. “You know where the dining room is and you’ve stayed in Katya’s room before, so you know your way around upstairs. Will you need anything else?”

  “I’m good. Go be with your woman.”

  Miranda was not officially his woman, but repeating the fact to Vidar would be mute. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He headed upstairs.

  ~~o0o~~

  Miranda sat on the edge of the bed, her mind reeling with questions. What if that night in New York didn’t actually happen? Did Jarle trick her into remembering something that never took place? That never was? The Viking witch was a master of persuasion. She’d witnessed him using his charms on countless victims over the last two years, and if he could stoop that low with her, he must have had good reason. The witch only did things to benefit himself. Which meant he was holding her captive for some purpose other than her owing him.

  The notion sickened her.

  Closing her eyes, Miranda thought back to the night Jarle had found her. The distinct smell of rubbing alcohol slammed her nose, followed by the visual of her paw-like hands and feet. Fear filled her soul.

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax. Other memories came and went, some more haunting than others like the sound of her bones cracking, the feel of her skin stretching and reshaping as her innards snaked around under her flesh, the metallic taste of blood coating her tongue, but in the end, regardless of the emotions they’d stirred in her, none of the memories offered clues to her identity or to how she had come to be on that street in the first place. The whole thing was beyond bizarre.

  Maybe she just needed to concentrate harder, focus on whatever thoughts she had retained from her past prior to that night.

  She scooted to the head of the bed, fell back and adjusted her shoulders against the soft, fluffy pillows under her neck.