Winterly (Dark Creatures Book 1), стр. 135
Markus had said black wolves were far less…restrained than their full moon counterparts. And the younger ones took centuries to master themselves. Poor Milli, a deranged black wehr-wolf. A Valkolak—it had been explained to her that Nicholas had been the only white wolf in the Valkolak clan, so the appellation was generally only worn by black wolves who were direct blood descendants of Marbod. That William’s twin had been a white wolf was like as not explanation enough why Valko—Nicholas, rather—had always seemed more…human.
Would that Nicholas had not been the one to… “What if she was taken to Calais?” Emma asked, feeling guilty for the direction her thoughts had taken.
“She wasn’t,” William said with surety.
Well, she supposed the bond must work similarly to the bond between herself and Markus. It was how he always found her no matter where she was; and it, likewise, meant that she could sense the direction of his life-force wherever he roamed. She could feel him now, approaching from the east, though he was as yet some distance off.
“Malach will not harm her, Emma.”
“Not yet,” she said. Not till Hexennacht anyway, when he’d use her heart for his wretched offspring bride’s Walpurgis ascension. “When will Milli…change? Tomorrow night?”
“No, Markus’s blood has repressed her transformation for now. But soon.”
Next black moon, he meant. They had a month in which to find her. And if not…well, at least the ascension of Mina was not for many months.
The mainsail flogged with a sudden shudder as a gust of air rushed down from the gaff to ruffle her hair and manteau. The very next moment, Markus appeared at her side, tucking his fleet black wings neatly behind him. He lifted her chin and kissed her mouth. When he pulled away, there was a frown twisting his brow. “Still not eaten?”
“The watchman was not to her taste,” said William with a disapproving grunt.
“I would rather feast on rats,” Emma replied.
“You wouldn’t say that,” said William, “if you’d tasted rat.”
“But if that would slake your hunger,” said Markus, “I heartily approve.”
William gave another low grunt and took his leave, presumably to find a crate in which to hibernate till morning. After he’d gone, Markus lowered his head and repeated the kiss, but this time it was far deeper. He lingered over her lips, his thumbs caressing the side of her jaw. She relaxed against him, savoring the salty tang of the kiss. Oh, this Markus she remembered well, not the one that had married her in a rush and dragged her along a whirlwind departure from England. Nor the one who’d penned that cold farewell.
“I’ve missed you,” she said when he released her mouth again.
His teeth flashed with desire. “And I you.”
Her transition had come on so slowly. Fragment by fragment, her mortality had given way to immortality. And all the while she was absorbed by the changes, Markus busied himself with plans for their marriage and subsequent departure from England; he and William had been hunting witches while she’d been left to marvel at herself—like a little child. No time for intimacy had he allowed between them.
She gently pushed him away. He’d been avoiding her. Always together but never really alone. Moreover, he’d been avoiding the unsaid things that were moldering between them. “I wish I could’ve flown with you.”
“We’ll be there soon enough.”
“No, I wish you’d not left me with the watchdog.”
He sighed and turned to glance out at the ocean. “I needed to feed.”
Ahh, yes, and he knew how she detested that side of immortality. Well, she would need to succumb to her nature sooner or later. “I suppose you also feed upon vermin, after a fashion.”
His lip twitched as though in fond remembrance of the human rat he’d fed upon tonight.
“Take me with you next time,” she said firmly.
He glanced down at her and gave a slow nod. “Have you overcome your aversion then?”
“I suppose I must if I’m to survive in your world.”
“It is your world now too, Emma.” His jaw hardened. “Do you blame me for…can you ever forgive me…”
“I do not blame you, Markus, for making me what I am. I am reborn because of you. Perhaps I did not always consider the thought of immortality with relish, but the alternative is…well, becoming worm fodder.”
His grin turned wicked. “You were always wyrm fodder, my beauty.”
“And you have always been a double-distilled overbearing dragon.”
“A dragon that loves you.”
“Then why did you write such a cold farewell and leave me when I needed you most?”
“Why did you leave, Emma? Why did you throw my—”
“You as good as told me to go!”
For a moment he blinked, bemused. “My words, Emma, were heart-fetched and sincere. They were as warm-blooded as ever any a word formed by a loving hand, even a mortal one. How could you have misread them?”
With tears brimming in her eyes, she confronted him. The unexpected upsurge of hurt sharpened her words before she thought to check them. And out poured his words, exactly as she remembered them. Unwillingly, she’d consigned them to memory.
By the time she’d done reciting the cruel letter to its author, Markus’s countenance was black. “But that is not my letter! And those are not my words!”
Just like that, Emma’s flame of resentment guttered out as though another gust had come to rattle the ship lines and bedevil the sails. “They were in your hand, Markus.”
“I cannot answer to that, but I know what I wrote: I spoke of adoration and love; I confessed that it was not I that possessed you but that you possessed my heart. I set you free to make your own choice, Emma, for I could not bear the thought of caging you, forcing you to be what you are not—forcing you to drink the blood of your own kind in order to survive. I would sooner cut off my wings and take my own freedom than force you to