THOSE WE LEFT BEHIND

–1500s–

The embers in the fireplace were close to dying, their warmth rapidly fading and allowing for a chill to run up my bare arms. I rubbed them absentmindedly, leaning against the windowsill to peer down at the activity in the village below, a distraction from the cold while I waited for the innkeeper's daughter, Louisa, to come bearing more firewood.

The sun had set an hour ago, and what had earlier been a crowded marketplace brimming with merchants and housewives shopping for their husbands' dinners, was now a den of inequity with prostitutes flaunting their wares to their increasingly drunken and inebriated clientele. I didn't mind. Though I rarely indulged in the company of these creatures, their town's reputation for lewd and criminal behaviour was the very reason I had chosen to purchase a room for the night. It was not a place anyone would associate with me and it would likely offer me the concealment I needed until I could leave the following morning.

Though I loathed having to run and hide, it was not a new experience for me. In fact, it had become my whole life ever since I made the decision to leave Dahlia, fully aware she would never cease to hunt me down. But for once, it was not the ever-looming threat of my aunt that had swayed my decision to hole up in this rowdy inn, nor my sudden need to leave the continent all together once the opportunity came.

It was a man.

A man by the name of Marcus Lowe.

We had met a few months prior when I resided in the forest a few towns over. I'd been setting snares for rabbits one morning when I came across a wounded animal. A wolf.

The people of Britain, both common folk and nobility alike, had made it their mission to rid the isles of the wolf population that attacked their livestock and threatened human life. So aggressively, in fact, the canine species was now a rarity. It did not stop the villagers from occasionally gathering hunting parties and setting vicious traps for the animals, however, and it seemed this time they had succeeded in catching one.

The wolf was huge, his fur a charcoal black, his eyes dark. His left front paw was trapped between two iron clamps with jagged edges that cut into his flesh, and though he was still fighting to free himself, even from a distance I could tell he would soon exhaust himself and submit to a slow, agonizing death.

I could also tell that this beast was not entirely animal. The energy that swirled around him, unseen to everyone who did not possess magic of their own, informed me this was a shifter. A werewolf.

It took a long time before he allowed me to near him, and even longer for him to accept my touch. When he finally let his guard down enough for me to pry the trap apart with magic, he collapsed onto his side, the wolf retreating and giving way to the man. Marcus.

He howled in pain as he clutched his mangled hand, a few of his fingers barely held on by strips of flesh and sinew. The pain proved too intense and he passed out shortly after.

At this point in time, grand shows of magic like teleportation were not something I allowed myself to make use of, unless absolutely necessary. The more magic I used, the easier it would be for Dahlia to sense and track me. And so even if I would have felt more comfortable transporting us back to the abandoned hovel I was inhabiting, I was unable to move Marcus and stayed by his side to heal him in slow, steady bursts. It took time and effort to restore his hand and ensure he would still retain the use of his fingers, but luckily he did not wake during my sessions of healing. and we were not disturbed.

He came to when night had fallen, his naked body draped in my cloak, and as soon as I was certain he would be able to make it home without further assistance, I rose to leave. But he caught me by the arm and held me back, a move that was both gentle and insistent at the same time.

Marcus was grateful, very much so, and after trusting me with his identity demanded I come home with him, to eat and bathe and procure new clothing. Apparently, my old dress, gaunt and sunken cheeks, and tangled hair made him believe I could benefit from such treatments. He wasn't wrong.

After a few initial objections, I caved.

What can I say? Having not eaten for almost three days and knowing no food or comfort awaited me back at the hovel, my distrust and caution was quelled by my ravenous hunger and the need to feel somewhat human again.

After a short trek through the dark forest, Marcus brought me to a small settlement on the outskirts of town with several little houses surrounding what appeared to be the main lodge. Men, women, and children, came pouring out when we arrived and after Marcus regaled them with the tale of what had happened, I was suddenly embraced, patted on the shoulders, and kissed on the forehead by rejoicing werewolves. Marcus' family, I soon realized. His pack.

They welcomed me with an enthusiasm I had never before experienced. Their warmth was genuine and to them, it seemed a given I was to stay for as long as I needed, to rest, and as the more elderly women of the pack told me: "Put some meat on my bones".

Despite my initial reluctance, I couldn't help but be pulled in. It was all so new, so nice. It wasn't long before I began to feel affection for them all, and before I knew it months had passed, and I was still there.

I spent most nights in Marcus' bed, greatly enjoying his company and his body, and the feelings were mutual. I opened up a little as time went on, sharing a few details of my life with him without revealing too much. Compared to Marcus I was a closed book. He did not hold back, with anything. He made his appreciation for me clear with both words and actions and declared with frequent intervals that I was "His".

It wasn't an unusual thing with werewolves. I saw the same possessiveness and need to protect what they considered theirs with most of the adult couples in the pack. But the difference was, they were mated. Mated for life, the way wolves do. Marcus and I were not, and could never be. Not because I didn't share the wolf-trait, but because it would never work.

It wasn't that I was not tempted by what life with Marcus could offer – a partner that loved and worshipped me, protection, comfort, a family of people who truly wanted me for me and not just because of the magic I wielded. I found I craved all this and more, and the longer I stayed with Marcus, the easier it became to fantasize that this could soon become a reality.

But another part of me, the more logical part, knew it would all have to come to an end. The longer I remained in one location, the easier it would be for Dahlia to find me. And she would not be deterred by a pack of werewolves. She would kill them all without a second's hesitation to get to me. And it would be all my fault.

I was putting the entire pack in danger with my mere presence.

Besides, the call of my siblings still out there somewhere and my dream to reunite with them never faded. And that dream would never come to fruition if I chose Marcus.

So, the night before, I snuck out while Marcus was still sleeping and made my way to this seedy, little underbelly of a town. The following morning I would be on a ship heading to France, and my presence here would soon be forgotten. Or so I thought,

A knock on the door tore my gaze from the window and I moved to open it, lifting the deadbolt I had put in place earlier to ensure some extra safety, Expecting to find the innkeeper's daughter Louisa, my eyes widened in surprise as I instead came face to face with one devilishly handsome, furious werewolf.

Marcus.

He stood there in the doorway, muscular arms braced on the wall on either side of him, his dark gaze blazing with a fury that had me take a few steps back.

I wasn't afraid of him. Marcus had never harmed me, nor given any sign it was in his nature to do so. But his proximity, the scent of him that enveloped me, had me fearing for my own self-control.

"Marcus."

I acknowledged as I stepped back towards the dying fire, one hand outstretched to ward him off. He seemed insulted by the distance between us and quickly moved inside, shutting the door behind him with one booted foot before he stalked towards me.

Unwilling to let him get close enough to touch me, I snatched the iron-wrought poker by the fireplace and brandished it like a sword before me, a note of genuine warning in my voice as I repeated his name.

"Marcus."

He halted in his tracks a few feet away, eyes narrowed as they shifted from my face to the weapon in my hand and back again. He smiled, but it lacked its usual warmth. He was still furious.

"You think I wouldn't find you, Wildcat?" he growled, a deep guttural sound that rumbled through his broad chest. "You think I will just let you leave?"

Wildcat. A nickname I had earned sometime during the early stages of our relationship when he'd discovered my penchant for fighting his dominant nature during sex. The sound of his familiar voice made my stomach clench with yearning, but I held fast.

"I think you'll have no choice," It wasn't as though I was trying to goad him with my honesty, but I couldn't help the small smirk that tugged at my lips as I spoke.

I had never made things easy for Marcus, no matter how much I wanted him. Had made him work and fight for everything I had given him, and I knew he loved it. He enjoyed the challenge. And I now realized it had been a mistake. Though I had never left him before, nor threatened to do so, he was so used to my words of rejection, used to this cat and mouse game that usually ended in seduction. Why would he think he couldn't get me back now?

Marcus sneered and suddenly lunged for me. Had I not been so on edge, his superior speed and strength would have ensured he'd caught me. But I was ready for him. I stepped out of the way and swung the iron bar at him, catching him in the ribs.

He gasped and doubled over, clutching the spot of impact, and I made to strike him again. Across the back this time to bring him down onto the floor. Part of me felt horribly guilty, and had I not known he would be good as new within a few hours I might not have been able to harm him at all. Well, maybe just a little bit.

As I swung out the second time, Marcus hastily righted himself and caught the iron weapon with one hand. He tugged sharply before I could let go, and yanked me to him with ease, his arms locking around my body like chains. The poker dropped to the floor at our feet and lay there, forgotten, as I valiantly fought his embrace, my back pressed to his chest. He only tightened his hold the more I squirmed and I soon felt his lips at my ear, his warm breath shooting a jolt of desire straight between my thighs.

Dammit. My body could be such a traitorous bitch.

"Stop fighting me, Wildcat," he demanded in that low rumbling voice of his, his teeth nipping my earlobe in warning.

I didn't stop, still tense and ready to flee, but when I realized no amount of writhing would get me the result I needed, I changed my tactics.

"How did you find me?" I spoke in a deceptively calm manner as my fingers slowly attempted to pry his arms from around me, hoping to at the very least distract him from doing what I knew his wolf was pushing him to do now he had his hands on me. Claim. Dominate. Fuck.

He chuckled darkly.

"Your scent. I could find you anywhere." His tongue teased the shell of my ear, almost making me whine in frustration. He stopped suddenly, and I felt him tense around me. "How did you manage to slip away without waking me?"

Unlike me, Marcus was a notoriously light sleeper. Any and all sounds would jostle him from his slumber, always ready for an attack. And though I had always considered myself a fairly graceful woman, all my illusions had been shattered after cohabiting with wolves and their sensitive hearing. Apparently, I had as much stealth as a drunken sailor.

I briefly paused my efforts for freedom, just long enough to attempt a slight shrug of my shoulders and to make a noise that could be interpreted as: "I don't know."

Silence followed for the next few seconds until Marcus spoke again, and despite his words, I could hear the smile threatening to break across his handsome features.

"You drugged me, didn't you?"

Though he could not see my face from our current positions, I assumed a face of innocence. I may or may not have added some of my herbal blends to his wine. Just enough to keep him from waking.

Despite his annoyance, he laughed, and as I felt his lips press a kiss to the back of my head, my eyes fell shut. He was making this so difficult.

After a moment, his voice turned sombre. Soft, but insistent. Hurt. It cut me like a knife.

"Why are you running from me, Freya?"

I swallowed, keeping my eyes shut.

"It's not you I am running from."

"Your aunt?" He growled, but I sensed his anger was not directed at me this time. "I told you I would protect you. The whole pack will. You're safe with us."

I had told him about Dahlia, of her abuse and reluctance to let me go, but I hadn't let him in so deep he knew everything. I'd kept the gory details to myself, unwilling – no, unable – to share so much of myself even with someone I cared for deeply. And so obviously he believed his promise. Believed he and his pack would prevail over this lone witch who threatened the woman he wanted. Because he didn't know any better.

I squirmed in his arms again, needing to put distance between us.

"Let go."

He tightened his hold on me, snarling. "No."

"Let me go," I repeated, my own voice a growl now panic welled within me. "I don't want this. I don't want you!"

A blatant lie, but if it would ensure he left, it was worth it.

Marcus' hold on me shifted, but he didn't let go. One hand collared my throat while the other reached down to bunch in my skirts, raising the hem of my dress to gain access to my sex. He cupped me possessively, his middle finger dipping between my folds to tease the sensitive flesh there and came away wet, my arousal coating him.

I groaned, barely containing the urge to whine in protest as his hand slipped from between my thighs to travel to his mouth. I tried to follow his actions with my gaze, but the hand around my throat held me pinned against him. Still, I could hear the hum of contentment from him as he tasted me on his fingers and soon found his lips back at my ear.

"You're a goddamned liar, Wildcat."

Yeah. I was. And apparently not a very convincing one.

Marcus put uncomfortable pressure on my throat then, not enough to keep me from breathing, but enough to keep me focused on his hold while his other hand made quick work of the intricate lacing along the back of my corset. I clutched his wrist with both hands, inwardly cursing as he undressed me until I was naked, his free hand roaming the expanse of my soft skin as he pulled me back against him. I could feel his hard length press against my ass, evidence of his own arousal which had probably plagued him ever since he caught the trail of my scent. He was rarely patient. On a normal day would have bent me over the table by now to take what he wanted.

But now he had something to prove. I could sense it from the way he clutched me to him, from the way he towered over me to intimidate and dominate. He wanted to possess and claim me, to soothe his aggravated wolf as much as the man, yes. But he also wanted to make sure I understood. That there was no escaping him, no convincing him to leave me.

His fingers dipped between my thighs again, coating themselves in my essence as he teased and rubbed, occasionally entering me in slow, agonizing strokes before pulling away. His teeth found my earlobe once more, and he growled his intentions.

"You tried to deprive me of what is mine. I can't allow that."

I hissed in a sharp breath as his palm came down hard on my butt cheek, making me buck in his grasp. His words and punishing actions ignited my defiance and I snarled my displeasure, digging my fingernails into his wrist as I once again began to fight his hold, writhing and thrashing.

"Not yours. Not anyone's."

I fought hard and wild, so much so Marcus struggled to keep me pinned. Forced to shift his hold on me, one arm snaked around my waist to anchor me to his body, his hand leaving my throat to tangle in my hair. Catching a handful, he tugged my head back sharply and I soon felt teeth clamp down on the back of my neck. It wasn't hard enough to break the skin, but my body stilled, recognizing the warning he and his inner beast was giving me. I remained tense for another few seconds, then slowly, relaxed back against him, acting purely on primal instinct.

I was rewarded with a kiss where his teeth had once threatened to pierce my flesh, and a shiver of delight rippled down my spine.

"That's my good girl," he whispered adoringly, and though I knew it had not been meant as patronizing, I still bristled.

With a slight nudge of magic, my fingernails turned to claws and reached behind me to slash at his skin, punishing him. He growled in pain and...approval?

"That's right, Wildcat. Mark me."

Fucking wolves.

Giving him what he wanted, though probably more than what he could handle, I dug my claws into the sides of his legs, cutting deep enough for true pain to blast him and force him to relinquish his hold on me. Once he did, I didn't waste any time. I dove for the iron poker on the floor but missed it by inches as a hard, naked body tackled me to the ground.

Marcus was on me again, and we fought. Well, I fought. Marcus tried to pin me down while avoiding my razor-sharp claws. Minutes passed, and in the end, Marcus came out on top. In every sense of the word.

Panting, having close to exhausted myself by struggling with this mountain of a man, my muscles burned and ached as I slumped beneath him, claws retracting. He didn't gloat, but I could sense his satisfaction roll off him in smug waves. To his credit, he didn't voice it.

While my breathing calmed, he blanketed me with his body, kissing along the column of my throat and sucking gently at my pulse-point. Soon, he sat up and pulled me with him, making me straddle his lap before he claimed my mouth, feasting hungrily and greedily, giving an admonishing squeeze to my ass every time I tried to take control of the kiss. He was in charge, and apparently, I needed to accept that. I did. The fight had gone out of me for the time being, and that coaxing voice in the back of my mind told me to just enjoy him.

One last time.

When our kiss broke, he teased my entrance with his fingers again, murmuring huskily against my lips.

"This is mine."

His fingers moved, slipping between my asscheeks and teasing there as well.

"This is mine."

His free hand cupped my chin, forcing me to meet his hungry gaze.

"You are mine. And I'm going to fuck you, take you, wherever and whenever I want. And you're going to let me. Aren't you, Wildcat?"

My swollen lips parted for his thumb as he grazed its pad over my mouth, tenderly sucking on his finger as I nodded, eyes hazy with lust.

He smiled.

When morning came, we lay in bed, my back tucked against Marcus' chest as he dozed. He had fought the lull of sleep so hard, was terrified if he succumbed, I would vanish. But eventually, he'd given in.

I hadn't.

Couldn't even if I had wanted to.

My heart hurt, my insides squirming with agony and guilt over what I was going to do.

Last night had changed nothing.

Though as we'd curled up together, sated and sleepy, and Marcus had held me, whispered words of love and adoration against my hair, promising me a life of companionship, that I would never be alone again...I had wanted to badly to just give in. To risk it all. To hell with Dahlia.

But that was a selfish thought. A selfish fantasy. And I would never forgive myself if Marcus and his lovely family got hurt because of me.

So, as much as it hurt, as much as it broke my heart, I slipped from his arms. It wasn't easy. His hold on me was still so tight I suspected I might be bruised. But in his sleep, while his mind was occupied and elsewhere, his body eventually gave in to my gentle nudging, allowing me to rise and get dressed.

Just as I finished, I felt him stirring. His eyes shot open when his hands couldn't find me and when his gaze landed on me by the door, the confused look turned to one of hurt and betrayal. Despite this, I sensed him readying himself for another attack, to force me to stay. Before he could get up, I moved towards him and sat down beside him. This seemed to placate him and his wolf enough to keep from making a possessive grab for me. I leaned in to kiss him, cupping his face in my hands as I tried to memorize the taste of him on my tongue, breathing in his scent while I still could.

"You're not leaving," he said once our lips parted, foreheads resting against one another.

I closed my eyes and gave him another kiss, though forced myself to break away quicker this time. I met his gaze, trying to convey a million conflicting feelings at once, but knew he would never understand.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, placing my palm on his forehead and doing what I had sworn never to do to my handsome wolf. To directly use my magic against him. "Sleep."

His eyes fell shut before he could react any further and his head thumped back against the pillows. I stood, pulling the blankets back over his naked body and stooped to give him one last kiss, fighting in vain to stop the tears that stubbornly ran down my cheeks.