Born of the Night

Shanara felt her breath catch in her throat when she saw Reyes. He stood in front of the altar next to the priest. For once, Reyes had eschewed black. Instead, he wore buff-colored trousers, a white shirt open at the throat, a dark green jerkin trimmed in black velvet, and a pair of soft leather boots.



His gaze settled on her face, the force of it sending a shiver of excitement to the very deepest part of her being.



Rolf gave a gentle tug on her hand. She took a step forward, her gaze locked with that of the man who was going to be her husband. By the time she reached the altar, her heart was pounding so loudly she was surprised the priest could not hear it.



A rush of heat flowed into her fingers and up her arm when Rolf placed her hand in that of his lord. Bowing his head, Rolf took a step back, then sat in the front pew.



The priest looked at Shanara and then at Reyes. "Are you ready, my children?"



"Yes, Father," Reyes said. He smiled at Shanara, then squeezed her hand.



She tried, but she could not summon a smile. What would he do when she refused to be his bride? Would he send her back to the dungeon, or fulfill his vow to send her back to her father a piece at a time?



She felt an unexpected warmth in the region of her heart when Reyes vowed to love, honor, and protect her so long as he lived.



And then the priest settled his somber gaze on her face. She could scarcely breathe as he put the question to her.



"Do you, Shanara Montiori, take Alexandar Reyes to be your husband from this day forward? Will you love and honor him so long as you both shall live?"



Her heart was beating so fast she feared she might faint. She took a deep, calming breath and then, to her utter amazement, she whispered, "I do."



The priest smiled for the first time. "Then, by the power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. What the Lord God hath joined together, let no man put asunder. Lord Reyes, you may kiss your bride."



She trembled as Reyes put his hands on her shoulders and turned her to face him. Lifting her veil, he drew her into his embrace. For a moment, he gazed down at her, his expression enigmatic, and then he kissed her.



Her eyelids fluttered down at the touch of his lips on hers and she forgot everything else, everything but the aching sweetness of his kiss, the faint tremor in the arms that held her. Was it possible that he was as nervous as she?



She blinked up at him when he broke the kiss. Glancing around, she felt a rush of heat flood her cheeks when she saw the indulgent smiles on the faces of the priest and the knights.



Feeling suddenly self-conscious, she started to pull away from Reyes, but his arm around her waist kept her close to his side.



He thanked the priest, Rolf and his knights, then led her out of the chapel and up the stairs to his bedchamber. The maids had laid a fire, there were candles burning on the mantel and in wrought-iron sconces on the walls. Bowls of flowers filled the room with a sweet fragrance. Someone had sprinkled flower petals across the floor and over the bed. A plate of bread and cheese and a bottle of wine awaited them on the table.



When he closed the door, she was trembling so badly that, had it not been for Reyes's arm around her waist, she feared she might have collapsed in a pool of silk at his feet.



"Does the room please you?" he asked.



She nodded, unable to speak for the pounding of her heart, the lump in her throat. She was his wife now, subject to his whim and will. If she cried out for help, no one would come to her aid. She belonged to him, the same as his horse and his sword. He could lock her up for the rest of her life. He could beat her, starve her, order her to spend the rest of her days in a convent, and she would have no recourse but to accept his will, whatever it might be.



He frowned at her. "Is something amiss?"



She shook her head, her eyes widening as his fingertips stroked her cheek.



"Are you afraid of me now?"



She shivered as his fingers traveled down the length of her neck, then, ever so slowly, skimmed the curve of her breast.



"I will not hurt you, wife," he said quietly and then, as if to prove his words, he kissed her gently, tenderly. His mouth was warm on hers, demanding nothing, asking everything.



And because she could not resist his kiss any more than she could cease to breathe, she kissed him back, a long slow kiss that brought all her senses vibrantly alive. Caught up in his kiss, she was scarcely aware that he was undressing her until she stood before him clad in nothing more than her shoes and her petticoat.



She looked up at him, mute, as he knelt before her to remove her shoes, then unfastened the ties of her petticoat and let it fall to the floor.



In the way of maidens since time began, she crossed her arms over her breasts.



Reyes shook his head. "Do not hide your beauty from me, my Shanara," he said, his voice husky with desire.



Biting down on a corner of her lip, she slowly lowered her arms, felt herself blush from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head as his hungry gaze moved over her.



"Beautiful," he whispered. "More beautiful than anything I have ever seen."



Drawing her into his arms once more, he showered her with kisses, his lips like fire as they slid over her breasts and belly, then returned to her lips to drink deeply.



Desire was an ache deep inside, a longing so intense it was painful. She moaned softly, all thought of resistance melting away like morning dew. She wanted him. There was no doubt that he wanted her. Why didn't he carry her to bed?



He kissed her again, his tongue exploring the warmth of her mouth and then, abruptly, he let her go.



"Sweet dreams, my lady wife," he said hoarsely, and he was gone.



She stared after him, unable to believe he had left her alone on her wedding night, or that his going could hurt so much.



Unable to believe that, in spite of everything, she had fallen in love with her father's sworn enemy.



Reyes stood in the darkness, staring up at the window of his bedchamber. Leaving his bride had been the most difficult thing he had ever done, but to stay would have been madness. No matter how desperately he wanted to make love to her, no matter that his entire body ached with the need to possess her, he could not bring himself to bed her, could not condemn any son she might conceive to endure the kind of life he now lived.



Hands clenched at his sides, he paced back and forth beneath the window, his mind filling with images of Shanara's delectable body. Her skin was creamy smooth, unblemished by wart or mole. Her body was lush, neither too plump nor too thin. His body hardened anew at the thought of hers. He groaned low in his throat as he imagined carrying her to his bed, burying himself deep within her warmth, making love to her all through the night, waking in her arms.



Taking shelter behind a bush, he summoned the wolf within him. Muttering an oath, he tore off his clothes, a howl of pain and frustration rising in his throat as his body transformed. With a last look at his chamber window, he ran away from the keep, away from the temptation that was growing ever harder to resist.



He loped through the darkness, finding a measure of solace in the touch of the wind in his face, the feel of damp earth beneath the sensitive pads of his feet. He ran for miles, effortlessly, mindlessly, ran until weariness overtook him and he flopped down on the ground, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth, his sides heaving.



When his breathing calmed again, he lifted his head and howled at the moon, howled in rage and frustration because even here, miles and miles from Black Dragon Castle, Shanara's image lingered in his mind, and he knew that no matter how far or how long he ran, he would never be able to run away from the fact that he had fallen in love with the daughter of his sworn enemy.



But he wasn't ready to face that revelation now, or ponder the possibilities and problems. For now, he wanted to run with the wolves.



Chapter 12



Reyes ran through the night, sometimes alone, sometimes with a pack of friendly wolves. They chased each other playfully through the darkness, howled their success when they brought down a deer.



And always, in the back of his mind, was the woman. Shanara. His bride.



It was just after dawn when Reyes returned to the outer wall of the keep where he had left his clothing and took on his own shape.



Had all his senses not been centered on the woman sleeping in his bed, he might have realized sooner that something was amiss, but his whole being was focused on returning to his chambers and slipping under the bedcovers beside his bride.



Too late, he realized he was not alone.



Feeling the hairs rise along his nape, he turned and came face-to-face with the man he had sworn to kill. Instinctively, he reached for his sword, only then remembering it was lying on the ground beneath his clothing.



He lowered his hand as Montiori's laughter filled his ears.



"And so," Montiori said, "you sent for me, and I am here." Dismounting, he tossed his horse's reins to one of his men. With his hand resting on the hilt of his blade, he circled Reyes. "I must confess, your battle attire is not what I expected."



The hearty laughter of Montiori's men filled the early morning air, then stilled abruptly as Montiori drew his weapon and laid the edge of the blade against Reyes's throat. "Where is my daughter?"



"I am here, Father."



Reyes felt his insides grow cold as Shanara ducked through the hole in the wall, even as the fact that she had come out to meet him upon his return filled him with a wave of tenderness.



"She is no longer your daughter," Reyes retorted, wincing as the blade nicked his skin. "She is my wife."



Montiori's eyes narrowed ominously. "You have defiled my daughter," he said coldly. "And for that you will die, as will she. I'll have no half-human whelps as my kin!"



Reyes looked at Shanara, fully realizing for the first time how much he had come to love her. No matter what fate awaited him at her father's hands, he would not see her killed. Shanara's life was more important than his need for vengeance, more important to him than life itself. His only hope of saving her was to confess that he had not touched her and hope that Montiori would believe him and return Shanara to her family home.



"I have not defiled her," Reyes said quietly. "Kill me if you must, but do no harm to Shanara. She is yet a maid untouched."