Sorcha's Wolf Read online

  How long could he do this, though?

  Seven days?

  Impossible.

  He’d waited centuries to get this close to his vengeance, but suddenly seven days seemed like a lifetime.

  “Keep going,” Alex grumbled. “And don’t fall behind.”

  Sorcha tried hard for several seconds, at least two, before she said, “I’m going in case you can’t see me.”

  Alex didn’t respond. They walked side by side, but he didn’t even glance at her. If she stopped though, he pulled her along, not gently but not too roughly either. She didn’t stop again, not after the angry look he’d given her the last time. He seemed to grow colder and colder the higher they went into the highlands.

  “Why are you so cold?”

  He lowered his brow but didn’t look at her. So went their time together so far. He’d ignored her for what seemed like forever. Even in the meagre light, she could see him trying his best to pretend she wasn’t walking right next to him. Why do that? Why bring her along at all? To gain something, obviously.

  “I mean, not chilly as in brrrr, but cold, like in not very pleasant. Unfeeling. Rude. Arrogantly only worried about yourself.”

  She got no reaction, but then he’d mastered ignoring at the PhD level.

  Her plan—because yes she had one—was to soften him a bit. Even a tiny bit would be amazing, but so far she’d had no luck. Since he’d rescued her, he’d not said more to her other than to tell her she might get hurt headbutting people. Who thought like that? Who believed that by doing nothing, they had a better chance at surviving?

  Alex did, but then when he did nothing it didn’t mean he couldn’t do anything. It simply meant he was waiting for a better chance to kill his opponent. At least that was her guess. And guesses as to what drove Alex were all she had right now.

  The only good thing going for her was he seemed to avoid her now, as if coming too close might cause him to go wild and kiss her again.

  A girl could dream.

  Well… She regarded his silent, broody profile and reconsidered that. He was handsome, but he was also hard in ways not even his wolf could break. The lines of his face were clean and strong. His chiselled body was built to protect and guard a woman, or drive her to orgasm after orgasm. But beneath the surface, was there a man? He seemed more machine, driven to walk, to talk, to stand, sit, shove her…all that but was there more? He’d seemed close to showing her more with his kiss, but what had that meant?

  She still didn’t know. Maybe he’d simply kissed her to stop her from crying. Men were odd, who knew what he thought?

  “Like, do you ever laugh? I mean is that not something the wolves do. Have fun?” she asked after giving him his two minutes to come up with a response.

  He didn’t answer. She walked on up the side of the mountain he wanted them to climb and gained a space to slow before she continued. The forest around them was silent in that way nature became before the chill of the Winter Queen spreading her cloak over the land.

  Alex didn’t seem bothered by the cold. He was dressed in a button down shirt and jeans. The backpack he’d stowed all their gear in rose above his head, but the weight didn’t slow him. Wolves were strong like that. She’d bet he could go for days without a break.

  “Lykae have fun. I know they do. The pack is a big family. They’re wolf-like and playful—well, when I say they’re wolf-like, I mean other Lykae, not of course you, since the happy gene seems to have bypassed you—but most of your kind enjoy life.”

  He glanced at her.

  Finally!

  Then he gave her a scathing look like she was beneath his high and mightiness and turned back to the path.

  She dug her nails into her palms to keep from bodily harming him. No doubt, he’d bodily harm her much worse. The thought made her pause. He hadn’t hurt her—well, he’d enjoyed making sure she knew he was bigger and stronger—shoving, pushing, pulling, hauling her around—but he’d not harmed her. He’d even been oddly gentle with her.

  Except with the rope. Even if he had used a softer weave, the ropes had cut into her wrists and he had to have known after those bindings came off she’d be in pain. Just remembering what he’d done about that pain though, sent her into a tailspin. She didn’t understand him. He’d been harsh, even growling curses at her, but he’d left her hotter than she’d ever been in her life. He’d been just as affected she thought. She slanted a look at him and wanted to growl—he’d looked angry, pissed off at the jackals, but he’d come back looking sated, too. She’d been attacked because he’d gone off and done some alone time with his big, hard body. At least she thought he had. If he had, well, he was a jerk. If not, well, he sucked at scouting.

  “At least tell me where we are going.”

  He grunted and turned to her from where he waited, hands on his lean hips and not even winded. She struggled up the steep incline using a tree to pull herself along and stopped breathlessly next to him. They’d been walking all day, but he insisted on keeping the pace even when eating. Now it was dusk and getting darker every minute. Did he expect her to walk in the dark?

  “We head due north. Am Monadh Ruadh and beyond.”

  Am Monadh Ruadh. The highlands of her home. Did he know? She watched him closely, but without her witch sight, she had no idea what his cold, hard expression meant. She kept her face clear of any recognition.

  “Why there? A bunch of rock and rubble.”

  “That’s where we go. You don’t need to know more.” He turned and she caught his arm, quickly dropping her hand when he jerked away.

  “But where? What mountain?”

  One arrogant eyebrow rose, but he didn’t answer her. Instead, he turned away again, marching his sexy butt up the trail. She fumed. “Listen to me, you overbearing idiot! Those mountain ranges are dangerous—”

  Alex turned around angrily at that.

  “And we can’t just waltz up there. It’s nearly Winter Solstice. The snow will be knee high, the chances of avalanches too dangerous—”

  “Listen to me, witch,” Alex interrupted her quietly. “Before today, it might have been possible for you to give me orders, but from the first moment you were in my charge, you’ve lost that ability. I will reach Braeriach, and not even your goddesses will be able to aid you if you don’t reach it with me.”

  Her breath left her on a gasp, but she still managed to say, “You’re insane! Braeriach?”

  “Aye, maybe I am, so if I were you, I would give that some thought. An insane man has nothing to lose, eh? Even worrying over a witch perishing from her own stubbornness.”

  “My own stubbornness,” she spluttered, but his arrogance was simply blowing her away. Braeriach was one of the highest, most dangerous peaks in Scotia. “It’s saved my life so far—”

  “So far it’s gotten you gagged. Do you want to wear one again?”

  “I will not tag along on this madness, Alex.”

  “You will not?” Alex roared, startling her so badly she nearly lost her footing on the rock. “Your wishes mean nothing to me. And what you want means even less, witch. We walk. Now. Or I bind your hands and drag you up the mountain.”

  She clenched her fists, not moving. Slowly, she opened her hands and observed that she’d sliced into her palms with her short, sharp nails.

  He meant that, truly, completely meant that. He’d do anything for this revenge. Even trade her to some mage he had no chance of defeating—he had to know that, but when she listened to him, she heard his confidence and wondered. Could he have a means for killing this mage she didn’t know about? Or, was this like the softer ropes he’d used to bind her—not as rough as the demon’s bindings, but in the end just as painful? Was he simply forgetting that fact? Even if he had something to kill Zith with, in the end, she could still suffer. Or maybe, that isn’t even a thought in his head.

  “Do you understand?”

  “I understand completely,” she murmured, keeping her thoughts to herself.

  “
Walk, now.”

  Sorcha stared at him for that—only for a moment then dropped her eyes and started walking. She felt washed out, drained, impotently angry. Everything was going to hell and she had no way to stop it. Alex held all the cards, didn’t he? He wouldn’t even tell her who this Zith person was, nor why he wanted to trade her. Or for what.

  Zith. It had to be short for something else, but what she couldn’t figure out. She knew no one with a ‘zith’ in their name.

  After several minutes of simply placing one foot in front of the other, she worked up enough courage to ask, “Who is Zith?”

  Alex stumbled on a rock he’d jumped to and caught himself easily. He turned to look back at her and examined her face. “Where did you hear that name?”

  One thing she’d learnt about Alex was that he blew his lid then, as if he’d punished a misbehaving child, he went on, lesson learnt. He didn’t seem to mind teaching the same lesson repeatedly. He didn’t want her talking, but he let her—to a point—then he raged at her. He didn’t want to answer questions, but he just had, then raged at her. The cycle didn’t escalate to more, but it didn’t lessen either.

  She could choose her words carefully and show him the respect he seemed to feel he deserved simply breathing air, or she could be unbendable as well.

  “Well, I was awake and aware when you discussed this little adventure with your partner, Markee.”

  “Markee isn’t a part of this.”

  “Oh? Well excuse the nuance. Who is Zith? A warlock? From where?”

  Alex shook his head hard.

  “Why can’t you simply tell me?”

  He ignored her and jumped off one big moss covered boulder to the other side of a ten-foot wide ravine, landing on the opposite side without any effort. He motioned impatiently for her to use a fallen tree to her left. She eyed the huge cedar then him. He watched her, almost as if he didn’t think she could cross.

  Humiliation heated her face. He thought her some weak, simple woman, didn’t he? Yes, her feet hurt, her heels rubbed raw from the new boots, her chest ached and burnt, her head throbbed from beating it against stupid men, but she’d kept up with him, even keeping her grumbles to herself when he wouldn’t let them stop to eat. She’d run these highlands blindfolded at one point in her life. The mountains he’d calmly informed her they were going to climb she’d been born on. This, walking, even in the dark, was nothing compared to the last time she’d ventured through the very peaks he so casually believed they’d reach.

  She pushed through the brambles to the end of the fallen tree. The log was at least three feet in girth. It looked newly fallen and not rotten. The hundred-foot drop under it gave her stomach the willies. She hated heights, but she’d be damned if she let him know that.

  “Come, hurry across we don’t have time for this, witch.”

  Her back hurt from tensing every single time he called her ‘witch’. She was a witch, but…she knew a curse when she heard one. Many immortals thought witches were nothing more than hags that would sell their souls to the devil for power. She’d done much in her life she wasn’t proud of, but she’d never harmed an innocent, nor spelled anyone that didn’t either deserve it or ask for it. The way he said ‘witch’ though made it clear how little he thought of her—and her coven.

  Not wanting to hear his voice again for a good long while, she stepped out onto the log. Her boots slipped on the moss and she reached for the branches of a tree, her heart in her throat. She used that bough until she could grab another, carefully placing her feet one in front of the other until she made it to the other side where Alex waited impatiently.

  If she’d expected something from him, perhaps a nod, or recognition that she wasn’t incapable of keeping up with him, she would have been disappointed. He turned before she’d even met his eyes and tackled the side of the steep bank in big, ground eating strides. His longer legs put him ahead of her in seconds.

  Exhaling heavily she sniffed back the frustration and hurt and struggled up the incline. For years, she’d aided anyone that had asked, even those that had not. She’d sat on councils and given her strength to more battles than she could name. Children loved her. The Fay openly welcomed her to their lands. The king of the Lykae even respected her and called her friend. And this towering, sexy hunk of macho wolf—who should be hers—was irritated when she wasn’t fast enough.

  You have to stop thinking like that! He’s not yours. He will never be. This proves that—erases every last doubt.

  She slipped on the layers of leaves and banged her knee painfully against a sharp rock. A hidden tree root caught her toe a few minutes later and she fell, hitting the same leg. Pain and frustration brought tears to her eyes, but she pulled herself up and swiped at her eyes with her sleeve. She would not let this man see her cry. Grumbling to herself, she made it to the top, breathless, scratched and covered in crumbled yellowed leaves and dirt.

  Alex looked like he was out on a Sunday stroll. He eyed her sweater, but she refused to look, instead she turned to the mountains surrounding them. Under any other circumstance, she would have loved being there, in her land, with the sun slowly filling the sky with the familiar brilliant colours of her true home. Instead, all she felt was hollowness as she examined the range of mountains facing them. The distant, dark peaks weren’t even the ones she knew he wanted them to tackle.

  She needed to leave him. Now before he could hurt her further. Possibly kill her with his stupid quest.

  His quest.

  What was it he was after? Could that answer possibly change the way she felt about him? Explain how cold he was to her?

  Without turning from her study, she tried again to reason with him. “I can help, you know. I mean, maybe tell you more about the man. I have studied the lore on mages, warlocks, sorcerers and—”

  “Enough. I will not discuss this with you.”

  She’d thought he’d say that, but she still tried again. Resting a shoulder against the tree behind her, she turned part way to him.

  “Alex, I can help. I’m a witch, it’s what I—”

  “I need nothing from you. Nothing you have is of any worth to me.”

  She jerked, feeling as though he’d slapped her. Easily she understood, even if he did not, the double meaning to his words.

  Nothing I offer is what he wants.

  Anger, the simmering cauldron bubbling inside her, rose to a hotter level, too hot it would seem to keep within her. She would leave him and when she did, he’d never see her again. Centuries of longing, of hope, slipped from her but this time, she dashed the dreams aside.

  He called her witch, thought her deceitful and sneaky, yet thought her weak, worthless without her power.

  She’d show him how strong she could be. As soon as she could touch her power again.

  “You know, you really are dense.” The words had burst from her and she kept going,

  “I mean I heard you were cold blooded—murderously cold blooded—unfriendly, arrogant and just plain mean tempered, but dense? I’d not heard that.” She paused to catch her breath then rushed on, “But you have with you the most powerful witch in the world and instead of letting me help you, you’ve bound my powers.”

  “I don’t need your help.”

  She laughed. “Against a warlock? Yes, you do. You barely got us clear of those jackals. I nearly got raped because of you! And if you’re dumb enough not to know you need me against a mage, then can you at least let me go before you get wherever it is you’re going? Because, I have to tell you, I’d rather not burn with you because you’re unable to reach your wolf.” She rested her hands on her hips and faced him fully.

  It was true. He hadn’t called on his wolf. She saw that now. If he had, no one could have ever taken her down. No one could have touched her. He hadn’t.

  She’d spun dreams that when she was in danger, finally, his wolf had broken free and recognised her.

  Well, she wasn’t dreaming any longer.

  She was tired. An
d she was sick of his superior attitude. She hurt. “I mean, I like to suffer with people as much as the next immortal, but only with those I choose to suffer with.”

  “Quiet, witch.”

  “Just tell me what other names he goes by.”

  “Witch, I warn you. I don’t need your advice, nor your help.” He snorted and stepped closer, crowding her with his bigger, more powerful body. “Now, quiet before I gag you again and this time with something a great deal bigger.” He hauled her closer with a rough chuckle. Against her stomach, the outline of his erection burnt, leaving no doubt what his crude attempt at humour meant.

  The meaning behind his words barely registered before she raised her hand and slapped him. His head swung to the side, but she wasn’t finished. With a burst of pure feminine ire, she jumped up, caught the heavy branch above her head and swung her feet directly at his chest as he turned to come at her—no doubt to do more harm.

  He never got the chance.

  He went flying backwards with a satisfying oof bursting out of his surprised, arrogant, sexy mouth.

  Her temper snuffed out as soon as his body made a crashing impact with the forest. Birds took off in a scolding flock, whirling madly above the treetops. She heard him swearing and she winced when branches continue to break until she couldn’t hear anything else in the suddenly silent forest.

  Slowly, she lowered her hands from where she’d covered her mouth. “Holy Danu, protect me.”

  Then suddenly she was free of him. But she wasn’t was she? She was deep in the wilderness of Scotland, couldn’t reach her powers and a pissed off—enraged—Lykae was now going to be after her.

  Worse, there wasn’t a chance of her leaving him like this– not injured, possibly worse.

  She’d check on him first. He was a Lykae, they healed quickly. She’d check on him, then leave him. Just like she had centuries before.

  She exhaled slowly and squeezed her eyes shut, only this time she’d not dream of him, not ache for him. This time, she knew beyond a doubt that he would never be hers.