S. Yule - Lycan Vengeance

When she came through the fog, her aura was like a bright ray of sunshine breaking the haze and scorching it with beautiful light until it dissipated into smaller and smaller tendrils and vanished altogether. If this was the light people saw at the end of the tunnel, he’d gladly walk into it without a second thought. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever laid eyes on, and he was positive that no matter how long he lived, he’d never see a more glorious sight than she.

She made his heart beat, not in a mechanical rhythm necessary for life, but in happy thumps that yearned for every next beat made within her presence. He didn’t just exist around her. He thrived.

She kneeled next to him, and he pul ed her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. Her warm body cuddled against him, and her natural scent—tinged with lilac and honeysuckle—tickled his nose. She leaned back and framed his face with her hands, and not even her tears could squash the delight he felt from holding her.

“What’s wrong, Rose?”

“I thought I lost you. I thought you were gone forever.” She buried her face against his chest and sobbed.

He rubbed what he hoped was soothing circles on her back and wondered why she was so distraught. Why had she thought she’d lost him? But it didn’t matter. What did matter was that she was upset because she thought she’d lost him, which meant . . . she cared for him. His chest swelled, and he wanted to shout out in joy as he rocked her gently and kissed the top of her head.

Her silky onyx locks tickled his nose, and he sat back and tipped her chin up with his fingers until her pale blue eyes, glossy and swol en with tears, stared straight into his soul.

“You were upset because you thought you’d lost me?”

“Of course I was.”

“Is it not too much to hope for that you care for me just a little, even though I’m a lycan?” He framed her face and fanned his fingers over her soft skin.

She closed her eyes for a moment and leaned into his touch before answering. “I’m sorry for generalizing you. You’re not a monster. You’re a beautiful, caring man, and I’ve fal en in love with you.”

“I never thought I’d hear you say those words to me, Rose. They are words that wil hold the most meaning to me for al time.

You must know I love you.”

She nodded. “It took me a while to figure it out, or believe it, but I do know.”

He kissed her. When she instantly parted her lips for him, he groaned, slanted his mouth over hers, and deepened the kiss.

She tasted of everything wonderful that had been forbidden to him. Now that he’d tasted submission, surrender, desire . . . love for him on her lips, he’d never want for another thing in life. That wasn’t entirely true. He’d wish for a mil ion more kisses from her.

Her delicate tongue tangled with his and stroked along the seam of his lips. He needed to claim her, wanted to imprint himself on her so she’d never forget she belonged to him. But something was wrong. He broke the kiss, nearly forgetting his thoughts when she cried out in protest, but he needed to know what had made her so upset.

“Why did you think you’d lost me?”

“I was attacked at my house, and you saved me, but not before you were injured. You bled out fast and went unconscious. I didn’t think you’d make it.” She cupped his jaw in her hand, and he rubbed against her.

Everything came rushing back at that moment. This was a dream. He’d been injured, possibly fatal y. Rage tore through him when he remembered how the rogues had handled Rose. They’d hurt her, and he’d kil ed them for it, but not before the last one had gotten in a lucky swipe at him. And then another one had come, and he’d barely been able to help her. He reached up to his neck, but it was fine. Of course it would be since his throat was only wounded in the conscious world.

“I couldn’t wake you up. No matter what I did, you wouldn’t open your eyes until Russel came. But you passed out again after yanking him of me. I kil ed him this time—for real.”

“Russel ? The same Russell who killed your friend?” Anger coursed through him.

She nodded.

“I thought you already kil ed him?”

“I thought I did too, but apparently the misconceptions I had about how to kil lycans al owed him to survive what I thought was sure death. Al this time, I thought he was gone, all this time—”

“Shh. It wil be okay. I promise.” He stood and pul ed her up with him.

Now that he knew his real wounds had been dictating his body in the dream world, he could shake of the feeling of lethargy.

He would go back to reality. He would go back for her, Rose, his mate, and he would live for her.

A squeak of surprise escaped her plump lips, as if she’d only just realized he didn’t have a scratch on him. She reached up and traced his neck, no doubt where the hideous wound had marred his skin. Her brows furrowed.

“How is this possible?”

“This is another one of those things that you didn’t know about even through al of your research on lycans. Mates have a mental connection that is strong enough to fol ow them into their dreams.”

“We’re dreaming.” She spun around. “None of this is real?”

“It’s real . . . but not.” He grinned when she scowled at him. “We make up our own fantasies here. We feel everything that takes place. We can control what happens, but of course, it only happens here. While we remember it al upon awaking, it cannot breach the real world. If you get pissed at me and shoot me with an arrow again, I won’t be injured when I awake. What happens in our dreams, stays in our dreams. The same is true for reality.”

She frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“So you are stil injured in reality?”

* * *

Rose sat up with a start. She’d fallen asleep. Knox was still lying across her lap, and she was still sitting on the hard floor, leaning against the bed. He’d been in her dreams? No. It’s not possible. But yet she knew it was.

That’s how he found me. While she’d been casually showing him around her neighborhood in the dream the night before, he’d been honing in on her location. When he woke up, she was going to throttle him for not telling her about this dream stuff sooner.

“Knox.” She brushed his blond hair back from his face, and his lashes fluttered.

He sucked in a great gulp of air as his eyes opened. She wanted to cry in relief, but she cradled him to her instead.

“Rose?” His voice sounded gravelly and strained.

“Don’t talk, Knox. Can you shift? You have to so you can heal.” If he didn’t, he’d die. He’d lost too much blood, and the damage was too great. She didn’t know how he’d held on this long.

“I don’t know.”

“Please do it for me.” She bent and kissed him gently on the lips. “Don’t leave me.”

She gasped when golden hairs poked through every inch of his exposed skin. Fangs shot down over his bottom lip, and his muscles began to contort. Within a split second, a wolf stood staring at her.

Not a wolf, Knox. His midnight blue eyes were the same and watched her intently, as if he thought she might run away screaming at any moment.

Happiness shot through her because she knew he’d be okay now. She’d found him in their dreams, and he’d come back for her.

“You can touch me if you’d like.”

She jumped. “Knox?”

“Yes. It’s me. You didn’t expect me to be able to talk, did you?”

“Oh, I don’t know, couldn’t be any weirder than changing into a wolf.” She frowned and then laughed when she thought about how funny it would be if he spoke to her as a wolf.

His low chuckle floated through her brain. “We have to have some way to communicate in wolf form.”

“I guess. I’m just awed at all of the things I never knew about lycans. I’ve done so much research, but it seems I really don’t know as much as I thought I did. I got so much wrong.”

“We guard our secrets wel . Our survival depends on it.”

She sucked in a breath when he walked to her and nudged at her hand with his nose. He was amazing. He was beautiful. She’d never seen a golden wolf before, and the contrast the color lent to his eyes was breathtaking. She hesitantly sifted her fingers through his fur. It was soft and thick, and she had a strange urge to bury her face in it.

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Nowhere close to as gorgeous as you are.”

Rose’s cheeks burned when Knox changed back, as he now stood before her naked. The stitches had come out of his neck when he’d shifted, and the injury was nothing more than a passing memory. Not one extra ounce of fat resided on his muscular frame, and she saw that he was big . . . everywhere. She licked her lips as he looked around at the bloody towels and bodies.

“I’m sorry about the mess. I’ll clean it up.”

“What are we supposed to do with the bodies?”

He bent down and retrieved his jeans from the floor, stepped into them, and pulled them up over his lean hips. She wanted to touch him, but now was not the time. How could the need to run her fingers over his skin so effectively block out the carnage in her bedroom?

“They have to be burned and the remains buried so no one will find them.”

“I’ll clean up the towels and blood.”

He went to her, pulled her into his arms, and rested his chin on top of her head. She laid her ear against his bare chest and listened to the steady rhythm of his heart.

“I’m sorry I let you down with Russell.”

She pulled back, looked up at him, and felt sad when she saw the shadow of guilt in his eyes. She laid her palm against his cheek.

“You didn’t let me down. If you hadn’t pulled him off me—and I don’t know how you managed to do so in your condition—he would have killed me. And if you hadn’t told me about the iron, no telling what would have happened. You saved me, Knox.”

When he started to protest, she stood on tiptoe and kissed him. He groaned and dipped his tongue between her lips to taste her. After a few moments, she reluctantly pulled away.

“Let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

“Yes, let’s do because we need to talk.” He put the rest of his clothes on before getting to work.

* * *

Three hours later, the snowstorm continued to rage outside. Knox had managed to dispose of all of the bodies, and she had bagged up the bloody towels and thrown them out before scrubbing the floor in the bedroom. It was late, and she was tired, but her body wanted something other than sleep. It ached for Knox.

He now sat across from her at the kitchen table eating the hamburgers she’d made him. When he was finished, she threw the paper plate away and sat back down.

“So we can, um, communicate in our dreams, huh?”

“Yes, we can. But I don’t think that’s really what you want to ask me, is it?” His gaze penetrated her, making her want to squirm in her chair.

“You said it was a thing mates could do.”

“Yes.”

“Damn it. You know what I’m asking.” She fidgeted with a piece of her hair.

“Then ask.”

“Are we . . . are we—what I mean is . . .” She growled in frustration.

He reached over, took her hands in his, and scooted close until her legs were trapped between his thighs and their faces were only inches apart.

“Yes. We are mates. You are my mate, and while I’m sorry that that may be distressing news to you, I’ll never regret that it is so. I love you. I’ve loved you from the first moment I saw you, even after you tried to kill me.”

“I know.”

He raised a brow. “You know?”

She nodded. “Yes. When you trusted me enough to tell me about iron, I had a hunch, but when you refused to change because you thought I would hate you for it, I was certain. And by the way, don’t you ever do anything—or not do something—that might endanger your life to save my feelings again. I would never want you to die because of me.”

He cupped her cheek in his palm, and she leaned against him, soaking up the warmth of his touch.