Chapter Six

Jourick couldn’t help but gloat, even if it was only to himself. Everything had worked exactly as he had hoped. He’d plotted everything right down to the most minute detail, and it had worked!

The spell had been difficult, the preparations intricate, requiring the greatest attention and care in the mixing of the herbs. But it had worked. He had switched essences with his son. He was now the inhabitant of Lukas’ body, and his son was in Jourick’s old, tired shell.

A grin passed across his face, gone as fast as it had arrived. He ran his hand down the firmly muscled form of his new body, enjoying the power he felt, the strength and energy that hadn’t been his in years. Ah, but youth was wasted on the young. They didn’t understand the power they had, the stamina, the lust.

Oh, yes, Jourick thought, the lust. He could feel it now, tightening his loins, sending blood rushing to his cock. In his mind, he could see the beautiful Danielle, see how she had looked walking down the aisle towards Lukas, the pale blue gown making her seem almost ethereal, until one’s eyes fixed upon her heaving breasts. They’d seemed about to burst free of the tight bodice of her gown, mounding with such lush ripeness, the tips just hidden by the satiny fabric.

Her upswept hair had emphasized the long line of her throat and the delicate oval of her face. She’d left one thick corkscrew-shaped curl hanging down, allowing the silky tendril to lay across her breast, the end just touching the dark crease of her cleavage.

His son had chosen well, which was all the better for Jourick, as the spell he had cast depended upon his conceiving a son with the wench. Danielle must give birth to a boy before he could kill his old body and destroy the essence of Lukas that resided in it. If the old body died before the son was born, then Jourick would die with that body and Lukas’s spirit would depart it and be returned to his own.

Damn the intricacies of the spell, he seethed momentarily, following the servants that carried his old body so carefully. They laid him upon the mattress, pulling back the coverlet as Jasper stepped forward to loosen the dark purple robes that covered him. The stone lay upon the unconscious man’s chest, and Jourick, in Lukas’ body, knew he must retrieve it. He must take the book and the amulet that contained all that power and secret them in his new chambers.

He couldn’t take the risk that anyone might stumble upon the book or guess what he’d been about. If he was caught, the spell could be undone and all his planning would be for naught. So much depended upon his success, including his very life.

“Leave us,” he commanded the servants who stood back, staring uncertainly at the unconscious body of their lord. “I will tend to Lord Jourick’s needs. Jasper, bring tea, something soothing so that he will have it when he wakes.”

He retreated a few paces and waited while the servants filed out, stopping Jasper just before he left the room.

“Please, let my bride know that I will be a while longer while I tend to my father, Jasper.”

“Yes, and don’t you be worrying, the old Lord still has many years in him. It was just all the excitement of the day, Lukas,” Jasper said, using the familiarity he always did when he was alone with the young lord. He saw a look of anger cross Lukas’s handsome face, gone so quickly he thought he had imagined it. But then, Lukas placed his hand upon the servant’s shoulder, squeezing gently before turning away.

Jasper stared at his back for a moment, confused by the young lord’s attitude. Then, shrugging his thin, stooped shoulders, he turned to do as he had been bidden.

Jourick, in Lucas’s body, stared down at what he had been. He’d grown weaker with age, though he’d refused to show it. And the sleeping draught, he’d prepared and taken right before the ceremony was working well. Jourick had almost failed in his quest. The draught working faster than he’d expected and caught him off-guard before he’d finished reciting the spell.

But now he was well and strong. He reached down and removed the stone from around the neck of his old body, feeling the sting of its power as he settled it around his own so it rested against the white of his shirt. With a gentle hand, he pushed the long grey hair off the forehead of the man lying in the bed.

“It is for the best, son. I hope you will realize that when you wake. You could never fully appreciate the power that this amulet brings, nor the diversity of the spells contained in the book. You think they are evil, that what I have become is a vile, perverted caricature of what I once was, but you are so mistaken.”

Jourick laughed, enjoying the deep rich sound of his new voice. “Well, perhaps what I have done would be thought wrong in the eyes of some. Damn them. With this spell, I can live forever. What man wouldn’t want that?”

He went to the small pedestal he kept in his chambers for when he wanted the book nearby and closed the tome’s heavy, leather-bound cover. Turning one last time, he stared at the body on the bed. “I must keep you breathing until I can breed a son off of your lovely bride.” He cocked his handsome head to the side and smiled, a malicious grin devoid of the gentle nature and the kindness the younger man had always shown. Instead, there was a certain madness to be seen, an evil intent in the jade gaze, a hardness that gave him a cruel mien.

“She is no longer your bride though, is she? She is mine, now. I trust you will excuse me, my Lord,” he said with a mocking bow. “I mustn’t keep my new bride waiting. Tonight I shall plough the wench and plant a new son in her womb.” He laughed and turned on his heel, sweeping out of the room, stopping to lock the door with the key he then slipped into his pocket.

* * * *

The door closed with a clicking sound of finality, the lock turning with a loud clank of metal on metal. The room was silent for a moment, the faint sound of breathing coming from the man on the bed a quiet hum that barely broke the hushed atmosphere.

Scrabbling noises came from under the giant, four-poster bed, and a black nose could be seen, barely hidden by the draperies from the canopy. It quietly sniffed the air, searching for danger, then the huge white wolf pulled herself from her resting place under the master’s bed.

She was confused. She had scented the man, the hated smell of him flooding her nostrils so that she’d cowered in fear, despising herself for that cowardice. But something was different. Mixed with the scent of the older man was another aroma, part that of the younger man and part that of a wolf.

Carefully, she jumped onto the tall bed, her eyes staring at the figure lying there so still. As she looked at him, a shadowy image formed in her mind. Hidden within the human form, she saw a black wolf lying on his side. He slept but not in the normal slumber of a predator whose mind was alert even while he rested. No, the black wolf slept as if dead, his chest barely rising, his muzzle slack, his eyes white in his head.

She nudged him with her nose and pawed gently at him with her claws held up and away from skin that rent so easily. When he didn’t respond, she pushed her nose under the hand that lay upon his chest and carefully settled her body next to his. Her eyes alert, her ears up and attentive to every sound, she lay next to him to wait until he awoke.

* * * *

Danielle sat on the cushioned bench at the great table where a huge feast had been spread with tempting foods unlike any she’d ever experienced in her short life. Enormous platters were stacked high with meats, their juices shining in the many candles that lit the hall in a glow. Breads and fruits were abundant. Vegetables, served both raw and cooked in sweet or spicy sauces, filled many a wooden or metal bowl.

It was a beautiful tribute that the servants had compiled for Lukas and her. The hall decorated with streamers of ribbons and garlands of flowers. It would have been perfect except for the absence of her groom and the worry she felt over the illness of his father.

How would it affect Lukas, his father falling unconscious at their ceremony? How would it affect their night together, a night they’d both awaited for what seemed an eternity? She sighed, lifting her eyes and meeting those of her mother, Augustine.

“Has there been word, my daughter?” she asked quietly as was her way.

“Nothing yet.” Danielle looked with a worried frown towards the long stairway that led to the upper floors. “It’s been hours. I hope nothing is seriously amiss.”

Her mother gave her a comforting smile, reaching out to take Danielle’s hand and squeezing it gently. “It all works out, daughter. You know that.”

Danielle tried to smile but failed, instead glancing back towards the stairway when she heard footfalls upon the hard treads. A genuine smile blossomed upon her face as she stood, welcoming her new husband. “Your father? Is he well?” she asked softly.

Jourick, in Lukas’s body, smiled at the sweet girl. She was beautiful, her dark blue eyes huge in a face carved by angels. His eyes roamed over her slender form, noting the curves that even the straight lines of her gown couldn’t disguise. A tightening in his loins brought a gleam to his eyes and a lascivious twist to his lips.

He couldn’t believe how well he felt. His body no longer screamed with aches and pains from his joints, and he had jogged down the long stairwell and wasn’t even panting. He couldn’t wait to find out what would happen tonight, when he had Danielle to himself. Now that she was his, he could do with her what he wished.

“He shall be fine. ‘Twas the excitement of the ceremony that caused his fit. He needs rest and quiet for a while. Jasper and I will care for him, Danielle. Don’t worry.” He reached out and wrapped his arm around her slim waist, dragging her forward and into his embrace, ignoring her gasp of surprise.

“Lukas?”

“You’re my wife now, Danielle. You must learn not to be so shy.” He took her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up to his. Enjoying the blush that suffused her cheeks, he bent his head slowly, his lips finding her soft mouth.

Danielle’s mind was in a whirl. Lukas had never treated her in such a way, not even in the heat of passion. He’d always been conscientious and loving. This kiss was raw and rough, a kiss designed to show ownership. His lips were hard, his tongue probing into her mouth without finesse. Danielle felt a strong urge to struggle and had to fight herself to stay pliant in his embrace.

He didn’t release her even after he raised his head. Instead, he pulled her close, letting her feel the hard length of his cock through the thin material of her skirt. The look on his face, lustful and harsh, sent a chill through Danielle.

“Yes, Lukas,” she murmured, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Now I am hungry, so why don’t you make yourself useful and fill a plate for me.” He let her loose, his hand coming down upon her firm, rounded bottom with a loud smack, then he turned and sat in the huge Lord’s chair that was centered on the far side of the table. A gasp rose from the servants in the hall who witnessed the young master sitting comfortably in the large seat. He reached forward, taking up the ornate chalice that sat to the right of Jourick’s plate. He stared at the young boy who stood just behind the chairs to his right then held up the chalice, his black brows cocked in question.

The boy hurried forward, his hand shaking at the audacity of the young lord. He filled the chalice, remembering himself at the last moment and lifting the fine linen cloth to keep any drops of the sweet red wine from spilling.

Jasper stepped to Lukas’s left, laying his hand on the younger man. “Lord Lukas, ‘tis your father’s chair that you have taken,” he said in a low voice that still belied his shock. It was considered a crime for any man but the lord to take his rest upon that chair. A crime that could be considered an insult to the lord himself.

Lukas looked askance at the hand on his shoulder, then gazed up into the servant’s eyes. “Do you think me blind, man? I know my father’s chair, and I know that he wouldn’t care that I sit here when he is absent. Who do you think carries on his duties while he recovers?” He stared around the hall as he asked the question.

“Now, if no one else has any complaints, I wish to break bread with my new wife.” He held out his hand, gesturing to the chair at his right. When she sat, he gave her his plate, pointing out with his eating knife the dishes he wished to sample. She slid the filled plate in front of him without a sound, sitting quietly as her new husband ate.

What had happened to the man she loved? He seemed to change from a loving, kind man to one who only seemed to care about stature and status and the trappings that surrounded them. Did this have something to do with his father’s illness? Or was this the true Lukas? Had he been hiding this side of himself from her until now?

She watched Lukas eat, wondering and unable to eat. The future that had seemed so wonderful this morning as she had gotten ready to put her life in this man’s hands now seemed cast in shadows. Danielle tried to laugh it off, to find an excuse for his behavior, but as she watched Lukas, she saw him watch one of the serving girls, a buxom maid that Danielle had been warned was a flirt and a tease.

Before Lukas was done, Danielle’s parents came to them, her father with his thumbs in the pockets of his plain homespun pants. “You have my girl now,” he said without preamble, wanting this business done. The castle made him nervous, and Lord Jourick gave him a strange itchy feeling across the back of his shoulders, a feeling as if something was not completely right with the man. “I trust you to look after her.”

Lukas waved his knife in the air. “Of course, I’ll take care of her. She will be the mother of my son.” He said the words bluntly and without the kindness that he had shown the village couple earlier in the day. “As you can see with your own eyes, she is wearing the finest of clothing and will want for nothing.”

“That’s fine then,” Harold said, his hand wrapping around Augustine’s upper arm. “We be wanting to say our farewells, then we’ll be leaving.”

Danielle rose, glaring at Lukas even though she felt alarmed at his rude manners. She hugged her parents, thanked them for coming. “I’ll come and see you next week,” she said to her mother as the woman clasped her close. “Don’t worry.”

“It’s a mother’s right to worry about her child, no matter her age,” Augustine said, wiping her damp eyes with a square of roughly woven white fabric. “You’ll find that to be true once you have a child of your own.”

Danielle started to walk them out of the great hall when a hand upon her arm stopped her. “Where are you going?” Lukas asked, holding tightly to her forearm.

“To say farewell and see them to the coach,” she answered.

“You’ve said farewell. We have servants to see to things such as the coach. Danielle, I thought you were learning something in those lessons you were taking with my father. No lady of my castle would be so crass as to show someone the door.” Lukas pulled her back towards him, his arm going around her waist, his hand resting just under her breast, almost cupping it.

Danielle wanted to struggle to free herself from his hand, but she didn’t want to call attention to herself and make a scene with her new husband on the day of their wedding. She nodded stiffly then turned to her parents, her eyes begging their forgiveness as she bid them a quiet goodbye.

As soon as they left the great hall, Lukas released her, making sure his fingertips brushed over the flesh that rounded delicately above the bodice of her gown. A sly smile appeared on his face at her gasp of outrage, and he took her arm, directing her back to her chair.

“I wish to retire now, my lord. I find that I’m feeling ill.” Danielle sought to rise from the chair, sputtering when his hand came out and stopped her.

“You’ll retire when I do, my love. Until that time, you will sit here and grace us with your beauty.” He picked up the chalice he’d had filled for her while she was occupied with her parents and handed it to her. “And we shall drink to our wedding and to the night ahead.”

He lifted his chalice to his handsome mouth, drinking deeply. When, instead of sipping from it, she just held her own golden cup, he stared into her eyes, challenging her refusal. Without another word, she drank the sweet wine, her nose wrinkling at a strange taste she couldn’t decipher. Whatever it was, she didn’t like it, and she sat the chalice back on the table after a single sip.

“The wine isn’t to your liking, wife?” Lukas uttered the word as if she were now beneath him in stature. He again stared at her, and the expression she saw in his jade green eyes was so unlike anything she’d seen before that she was shocked. Where was the man who’d made love to her in the glade, who’d waited in the woods for her, who’d come to her in the village and seduced her so beautifully in the coach? She couldn’t see him in the stranger now sitting with her.

“It’s…it’s fine Lukas.” Danielle lifted the chalice to her lips once more, allowing a small amount of the blood-red liquid to pass her lips. The taste made her nauseated, and she felt her stomach turn over in sudden rebellion. Fighting the urge to lose her supper, she sat in the chair he’d bade her take, holding the chalice in her hands, her face gone pale.

Jourick, in Lukas’s body, felt a surge of power, the pendant upon his neck almost glowing with its power. His blood burned hot, and he turned to stare at the beautiful girl at his side. Was she virginal? With the lust that boiled in his veins, he couldn’t believe his son would deny himself a taste of the sweetness of the wench. No, Lukas had taken her. Jourick had no doubt of that.

But he would have her tonight. Their bridal night.

“Come, wife,” he said, rising from his chair and dragging her from hers. “It’s time for us to retire. Now smile for our people. Let them see how happy you are with the match you made today. Let them know that you are content with how highly you have wed.” He held her by her upper arm, his fingers digging in around the wolf cuff he’d gifted her with earlier in the day.

Danielle felt the strength in his fingers and knew she would find bruises there the next day. She felt a strong desire to cringe from his attentions, to run from him and go back to her parents. She wanted to ask him why he was doing this to her, to them, but the words couldn’t be spoken in front of the entire castle. She choked down the sob that rose from her chest and managed to smile, to please the man she now wondered if she’d ever known.

The servants raised their voices in approval at their young lord’s territorial mannerisms and the new mistress’s shy beauty. Raising their glasses of fine wine that wasn’t their usual lot to drink, they toasted the health of the couple in loud and raucous tones.

With the sound of cheering still ringing in her ears, Danielle felt Lukas pull her to the stairway, almost dragging her as he strode with purposefully steps towards his bed chamber. When they were out of sight of the castle folk, she tried to dig in her feet.

“Lukas, stop, please.”

“Why, my lovely wife?” He pulled her into his arms, dragging her against him. “Do you not long to feel me against you, yearn for my body to take yours in the heat of passion?” His strong fingers slid into her hair, tangling in the curls, pulling out the pins that had held the riotous mass tamed for this important day.

Tears came to her eyes as his fingers tugged painfully, pulling her head back until her face was turned up to his. “Please Lukas, why are you so different? It’s almost as if you are two people.”

Jourick jolted, surprised at her words. “I am no different, my love. I am the same man who you gave yourself to heart and soul earlier today in a binding ceremony in front of my father. Tonight, my wife,” he said, dropping his hands from her hair and swooping her up in his arms, “you will gift me with your body.”

With a shriek at the sudden movement, she quickly wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her swiftly and purposefully up the long flight of stairs.

* * * *

“Danielle?”

The deep rumble, husky with disuse and the drug that was used to knock him out, sounded from the midst of the huge bed. A hand, shaking with age and illness, lifted from the soft comforter as if reaching out.

Lukas, feeling sicker than ever before in his life, lifted lids that seemed weighed down. Even this tiny effort was almost more than he could handle. He stared unseeingly at the cloth covered canopy, blinking until things came into focus.

Something had happened to him, something important that he needed to remember. His mind didn’t want to focus, images swaying in and out with no apparent pattern. The only thing that didn’t blur for him was the image of his Danielle.

A low growl emerged from the floor to the side of the bed. The white wolf jumped up on the bed next to him, her muzzle going to his outstretched hand. She nuzzled her head against him, whining deep in her throat.

He answered her with a growl of his own and a series of short yips. His head spun, his eyes seemed too heavy to stay open. He felt himself sinking back into the welcoming arms of darkness as the wolf inside himself howled in sorrow and pain.

The white wolf stared at the man, her eyes already going past the draperies of flesh and bone to the essence inside him. The shadow wolf was sick, not only in body but in spirit. His heart ached and mourned, calling to hers for help in finding his one true mate.

She nudged the man, pushing against him until his eyes opened again and focused upon her. His hand lifted, tangled in the thick, snowy hair at her ruff. She pulled back on the bed, her nails catching in the fine fabric of the bed linens, ripping into them with her effort to pull the man up.

Lukas stared down at the purple robes that covered his chest, not understanding why he was wearing them. He sat, his head spinning, his stomach lurching as it wanted to empty. His heart raced, thumping hurtfully in his chest. He could barely breathe.

He had to change, he had to become the wolf. He had to fight the illness that wanted to drag him back and ruin the concentration he would need to accomplish the feat.

Taking a deep breath, Lukas managed to push his legs over the edge of the bed, the white wolf standing next to him and letting him lean against her before he found the strength to push himself to his feet.

The mirror above the huge fireplace caught his eye, and he wobbled unsteadily over to it, staring into its reflective surface in horror at what he saw.

“Oh by the gods,” he heard his father’s voice say. His hand rose and touched the wrinkled skin of his face, felt the long white beard that hung down his chest. “Father, what have you done to me now?”

* * * *

Danielle was dropped unceremoniously on the wide expanse of the bed in Lukas’s chamber. She fought to free her legs from the skirts that had wrapped around them, trying to get to her feet. She heard Lukas’s deep laugh as he watched her struggles but refused to look up at him. Her heart cried that this was wrong, that something was wrong with him. He wasn’t the same man she’d pledged to or the man who had taken her virginity so sweetly in the glade that morning so long ago.

Jourick stared at the girl who struggled so furiously on his son’s bed and felt a surge of lust that was so powerful, so strong, and so unlike anything he’d felt in ages. His old body had failed him many times even when the urge inside of him was strong. But this new body wouldn’t fail him. He was in control.

He slowly stripped out of the jade-colored jacket, letting the rich material fall to the floor. His shirt followed quickly, and he ran his hands over his unwrinkled skin and taut flesh, smiling cruelly. He sat upon the edge of the bed, reaching over to drag her towards him with one strong hand.

“Remove my boots, wench,” he ordered curtly.

When she sat where he’d left her, her legs now bare since the twisted skirts had been dragged over her legs, he reached over once more, grasping her chin his hand. “I said, remove my boots.” He let her fall to the ground at his feet.

Danielle stared deeply into the green eyes of the man she loved—or thought she had loved. She got to her knees, pulling herself closer to his body, reaching down with a hesitant hand and grabbing the heel to his boot.

“Not like that, girl. Didn’t your father teach you anything? Turn around,” Jourick ordered, his voice going deeper as he saw her kneeling in front of him. His sense of power seemed to grow, and he felt the sting of the stone laying against his bare chest. It glowed with power, the red flaw in its centre seeming to pulse with a steady rhythm.

Danielle got to her feet, turning to straddle his leg and bend over the boot. He placed his other foot on her bottom, pushing against it as she pulled the boot off his foot with a soft grunt. She then moved and straddled the other leg, pulling and tugging until that boot was off, once against feeling the degrading push of his now stocking-clad foot on her rear.

Then she stood, facing Lukas, her hands at her sides, her head bowed. He was her husband. It was her duty as wife to do as he wished no matter how menial the job. Her mother had taught her that. To obey was a woman’s lot in life.

Jourick reached out his hand, snagging the front of her bodice in his long, tan fingers. He pulled her forward until she stood between his spread knees. His fingers twisted in the tight bodice, the tips brushing against the smooth skin of her breasts, sliding over the nipples that grew taut despite how she felt about the man touching her.

His other hand went to her hip, and then cupping the roundness of her bottom through the silky skirt. “Very nice, Danielle. Very nice.” He pulled her closer, his hands sliding to her back and tugging at the laces that held her dress. “Let’s see how you look without these clothes.”

* * * *

Lukas stood, one hand touching the wrinkled skin of his father’s face, the face that now seemed to be his. He stared with disbelieving eyes and his mind raced, wondering how he had come to be where he was now. The last thing he recalled was standing at the altar in the small chapel where his parents had married, as had his father’s parents and his father’s before him. He remembered waiting as Danielle walked towards him, incredibly beautiful in her pale blue gown, her eyes shining with happiness.

Then he next recalled his memories growing hazy and a tugging of his being followed by a lightness as if he had floated upon the air. And then, pain and confusion.

“My father cursed me again,” he whispered, feeling the pang of the betrayal as if it were a physical blow. “He stole my body. He took over my life.” His hand curled into a fist, and he plowed it as hard as he could into the reflection of his father’s face. “He lied to me again.”

He sank down onto the hearth as the wolf came to him, her whines unsettled and anxious. She nudged at him as he let the betrayal darken his thoughts to all else but the pain he felt. He felt her and drew her to him, burying his face in the thick collar of fur at her throat, feeling the scream of anguish build inside himself. Before it could erupt, another thought broke through the morass of pain that held him in its thrall.

“Danielle,” he said, sitting up and gasping as the pain in his joints screamed through him. “He took over my life. He has Danielle.”

He fought to his feet, using the wolf as a crutch. She allowed him to manhandle her, something no other man had been allowed to do, not even flinching at the pull on her hair or the dig of a fingernail in her skin.

She yipped at him when he stood and went to the door, fighting to pull the solid slab open. At first, he heard nothing but the yips as he slammed his fist into the locked portal, doing nothing more than bruising his hand.

Then the wolf within Lukas awoke, listening to the tones of the other, the sounds she made now forming pictures in his mind. It wasn’t a thought but a vision as she spoke to him in the language of their kind. He closed his eyes to see it with more clarity, almost smiling as it became a clear thought. With a nod, he turned and started pulling at the purple robes that covered his body.

* * * *

The gown fell to Danielle’s feet, followed quickly by the thin white shift she’d worn under it, leaving her naked to her husband’s avid leer. She felt a compulsion to cover herself, her hands twitching at her side as she fought that strong need. This was his right, as her husband, to make use of her body. But this wasn’t as she had thought it would be.

Immediately after their vows, Lukas had grown different, harder, more like his father than the man who’d taken her virginity in the woods with such studied care and tender passion. Or the man who’d wooed her in the coach, bringing her to heights of pleasure unlike any she’d ever felt before, foregoing his own needs as he taught her that bliss between a man and woman didn’t just deal with the mating of their bodies.

So she stood, feeling his eyes, like fiery insects crawl over her flesh, invading her every slender curve, penetrating her every defense.

Jourick looked, caught in the spell of her loveliness. His hand rose, his fingers skimming over the taut, rosy tips of her firm breasts, brushing gently against her slender stomach where her muscles jerked involuntarily at his tickling touch. He knew her thoughts, how she wished for the cover of darkness and wondered at the change in his behaviour. He didn’t need to search her mind. He could see those thoughts as plain as day upon her face.

Pulling her closer, he closed his lips over one full nipple, feeling the indrawn gasp of her breath under his teasing mouth. He wanted her to want him, surprisingly enough. He wanted to bring her pleasure, to know she desired him as it had been clear she’d desired his son. His tongue curled around her nipple, flicking against it, his teeth closing around it, nipping ever so gently at the turgid tip.

He ran the palm of his hand down Danielle’s stomach, pausing at the slight dip just above the rise of her woman’s mound. Here was where his new son would grow, where he would thrive then be born to cement the spell that would keep Jourick young. And when that son was grown, he would duplicate the spell, again and again. He would live forever. Passion and power warred with his body. Jourick tore his mouth from her breast, his breath rasping in his lungs.

“I want to plant my son inside you tonight, Danielle.” He pulled her forward, his mouth finding hers, twisting and ravaging her soft lips, parting them to dip his tongue into the dark heat of her mouth.

A part of her mind told her his kiss was different, even as she couldn’t help but respond. No matter what, this was her Lukas, her husband, the man she loved. There was a reason for his actions tonight, but she didn’t want to think of that now, not when his mouth was a hot brand upon her lips and his hands ran over her body, teasing and touching her with such sweet knowledge that it set her on edge.

Need settled with a maddening itch between her thighs, making her hips arch into his hands, his moan unrestrained in her ears. He lifted her, his powerful arms cradling her as if she were feather-light before he turned and dropped her back upon the mattress, following her down to lay between the slim, curved columns of her legs.

The rough fabric of his breeches barely restrained the long length of his cock. His lips took hers in a kiss that sent heat curling through her to her toes.

* * * *

With a tired groan of pain, Lukas dropped the last of the purple robes to the stone floor in his father’s chamber. He hated to glance down at the body they had covered, the alien form that he inhabited so different than his own firmly muscled young body. He felt the cold of the chamber hit his tired bones like a fist and had to force himself to walk to the side of the bed and sit down. The breath rasped in and out of his tired lungs as he forced the old body to continue.

With a long sigh, he leaned back on the bed, curling into himself as he sought the image the white wolf had given him just before. He needed to hang onto that vision, use it to retain the focus he would need to make the change in his already weakened state. Lukas could only hope that what had been true in his own body would be true in his father’s.

He felt the she-wolf jump onto the bed behind him, her body curving around his, giving him her warmth, feeding him her strength as she linked with his lupine half. He closed his eyes, struggling to force the change, channelling every bit of rage he felt into that power.

The creak of bones alerted him to the beginning, then the pain hit, sudden and sharp, as bones lengthened and skin stretched. His nose pushed out, becoming a muzzle, and his teeth grew sharp and long in his mouth. Hair grew in tufts, and his ears changed, moving from the side of his head to the top, growing into points. His nails grew sharp, curving as his hands shortened, pads forming where once skin had been.

A sharp creak and a short yowl and his tailbone grew, the skin stretching even further as the fur grew over it and became his tail. It whipped around his contorting body before dipping between his legs. Lukas forced himself to continue breathing through the pain, letting the wolf grow until he took over the instinctive part of his brain. Lukas himself became the submissive in his mind, the wildness of the wolf the dominant.

When he rose again, it was the black wolf who stood, shaking his body before jumping down from the bed. The she-wolf came to him, her head down, her tail between her legs. She approached him slowly, growling softly in her throat. When he growled, she rolled onto her back, allowing him to take her throat in his mouth to show his control. He released her, leaving not even a mark upon her fur. Then he turned and went to the purple robes, scenting the smell of his father upon them. With a show of defiance, he lifted his leg, urinating upon the robes.

The she-wolf made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a human laugh before going to the wardrobe on the far side of the room. With a bark, she called the black wolf to her, pushing her way through the many robes until she reached the wooden boards at the back. Jumping on her hind legs, she pushed at the wall with her front paws until it moved, silently opening up to show the black hole of a tunnel.

Lukas, his eyes now those of the wolf, could easily see well enough in the darkness to make his way, following the scent of his father through the long tunnel. When he reached a wall, the she-wolf pushed forward, finding the hidden switch with her front paw and opening the way for the two of them.

One dark passage led to another, until finally, a dim glow showed ahead. At the last door, the she-wolf pushed past, leaning her slim but strongly muscled body against his for an instant before she reared up, finding the last switch with her paws and pushing into the brightly lit corridor.

Lukas felt both the pull of the light and the call of the forest from outside the thick walls of the castle. He looked at the she wolf who so easily stayed at his side, matching his strides as they ran, nails clicking on the marble flooring of the corridor they’d come out onto.

He could escape this place now, remain the wolf and leave the evils and treacheries of humans behind. The wolf wouldn’t leave him, she would stay, and be his mate if he gave up the life of man. The scent of prey was strong in his nostrils, the thirst for warm blood and meat still pulsing with life an almost overwhelming need.

Only one thought kept him trotting down the long corridor, his long pink tongue hanging out of the side of his mouth. His Danielle. She was in trouble, at the mercy of his evil father and his dark magicks. With a silent message to his companion, he slid to a halt, his head lifting, his nose scenting the air for a trace of his human mate.

* * * *

“Untie my breeches, wife.”

The order was hissed into her ear as Jourick, using the palms of his hands, raised his young body over hers. He felt her hesitancy and took her chin in his palm, staring down at her, his green gaze full of passion and fire.

“Do it, Danielle,” he commanded firmly.

A groan trembled at his lips as he felt the softness of her hands at his stomach, fumbling with the ties that held closed his breeches. He felt them give, felt her start to move her hands away. Grabbing one, he took her small fingers and pushed them into the opening she’d created, wrapping her hand around the burning heat of his cock.

Holding her hand there, he rolled from between her slender thighs, pulling her with him to lie on her side as he fell to his back. “Stroke softly, Danielle. I wish to feel your hands upon my body. And your lips.” As her fingers moved on their own, intimately discovering him as she had done that far off day in the glade, he released her, pushing off his breeches to give her room for those tender explorations.

He felt her shyness in the soft brush of her hand, felt her passion in the rise and fall of her breasts against his side, knew her thoughts as if he could touch her mind with his. She was excited despite herself, aroused by his body and what he was doing to her and making her do to him. His hand slid once more down her stomach, stopping just at the top of her mound, his fingers parting the soft curls to tease the soft skin hidden by the wispy hair.

Danielle gasped, her hand gripping him more firmly as her body grew wet with longing. He seemed to know where to touch, where every fiery nerve ending of her body grew sensitive with desire. Her mind was in turmoil. How could she want him so intensely after the degrading scene he’d put her through today?

His fingers tangled in the hair on her head, pulling her forward until her lips were against his chest. “Taste me, Danielle, use your mouth on my body.”

She did as she was bid, mindlessly moving over him, her mouth an open caress, her tongue peeping out to stroke across a manly nipple, slide over a beautifully defined stomach. His hand was still in her hair, guiding her head, pushing her ever closer to his thick shaft that she still held in her hand.

She tried to stop him for a moment as he lifted her face, manoeuvring until the tip of the engorged head brushed against the softness of her lips. He was too strong, too determined, and her lips parted, feeling him enter her mouth, slide past her teeth and over her tongue. His taste was strange, a combination of a musky tang, salty sweat, and a slight bitterness.

“Suck, Danielle,” he ordered, his hands holding her head, guiding it on him. “Draw upon it as if it were the tastiest of treats,” he uttered, the words ending in a groan as she did as he bid her, her lips clinging to the long, veined shaft.

Jourick pulled loose the few pins that still held her hair in its now tangled mass, smoothing the long fall of it over her shoulder so that it fell like golden silk against his thigh. He watched as she took as much of him as she could in her mouth, seeing her cheeks hollow out as pleasured him. Her eyes opened, and she looked up at him, catching the smouldering green gaze in her cool blue one.

“Oh, gods, Danielle,” he groaned, understanding the pull that had his son marrying the lowborn wench. He pulled her off, not sure how much more he could take, his new body seeming desperate to plunge into her waiting softness.

Pushing her onto her stomach on the bed, he kicked off his breeches, holding her still with one hand against the small of her back. Danielle gasped as Lukas held her to the bed, unable to fight against his immense strength. His lips found the line of her neck and nibbled at the smoothness of her shoulder. He parted her thighs, lifting her hips into the air and bringing her to her knees under him. One long finger slid into her, testing her readiness for him. Watching her face, he stroked inside of her, curling his thumb to rub against her clit. Her cries excited him, the look upon her face was perfection in passion.

His excitement grew as her body began to move against his hand. With every stroke of his fingers, he brought himself as close to completion as he was her. He rose to his knees, pushing his hard cock between the rounded cheeks of her bottom. The heat of her, the softness of her after being celibate for so long was too much. He could hold on no longer, crying out himself as he emptied his passion upon her back in long, pearl-colored strands.

Danielle moaned as he fell on top of her, barely holding his weight from crushing her. Inside, she felt frustrated. She’d been so close, so close to her own fulfilment when he’d stopped. She felt his hand slide down her body even as he pulled away from her and collapsed at her side.

She could feel his cum, warm at first and then cooling to dry on her skin. It gave her a shudder of distaste that surprised her. She’d never felt like this with Lukas.

“I wanted to give you my child,” he panted.

Danielle mumbled something he didn’t catch. He stroked the hair off of her face, watching as she opened her eyes to look at him.

“What was that?”

“I’m already carrying your child, my lord.”