Page 51 of Master Wolf

Marguerite’s wolf was a dainty, fierce, pure white female. Barely two-thirds the size of Drew’s great grey beast, she nevertheless nipped and harried him ruthlessly, demanding that he follow her and leading him on a long and exhausting run right out to the Pentland Hills where they brought down a small roe deer, cleaning the blood from their fur afterwards in an icy lochan.

The only thing that spoiled Drew’s happiness was the knowledge that Lindsay was at home in Albany Street, unable to shift. Too weak even to be out of bed. That made Drew’s wolf whimper when he thought about it. And then Marguerite would have to harry him again to get him moving.

By the time they were running back towards the city, the sky was just beginning to lighten. Soon it would be dawn.

They were perhaps a quarter hour from home when Drew’s wolf decided that it wanted its mate, stopping in its tracks, obdurate and unmoving.

Marguerite growled low and jerked her elegant head, her gaze intent upon Drew. Her will was strong and Drew was forced to drop his eyes, but he didn’t comply with her silent demand to follow her. Instead, he paced further away and turned, ready to run in the other direction towards Albany Street, and Lindsay.

Marguerite’s growl died in her throat, and when he chanced another glance at her, it was to discover she was already bounding away, leaving him to his own devices. Her white pelt flashed in the distance once and was gone an instant later.

Drew put his head down and began to run as fast he could. He needed to beat the dawn now. When he finally skittered up to the kitchen door of the Albany Street house, a rosy glow was just breaching the horizon. He scratched at the wood, then sat back on his haunches and waited.

A long time passed before Wynne came to the door, sleep-rumpled and rubbing at his eyes.

Drew slid past Wynne’s legs and slinked into the kitchen, his toenails clicking on the stone flags. He turned to look back at Wynne, who eyed him for several moments before shaking his head and reaching for a pitcher of water. He poured some into a bowl and set it down on the floor for Drew.

It was only then Drew realised how thirsty he was. He dipped his head and drank noisily, then abandoned the bowl and went to pace uneasily at the kitchen door.

Wynne sighed. “You want to go to Lindsay,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but Drew whined his agreement anyway. Wynne smiled strangely. “You should listen to your wolf more often,” he said.

Standing, he stood and opened the door, and Drew streaked past him, racing out into the hallway where he leapt up the stairs that would take him to Lindsay’s bedchamber.

Wynne followed him more slowly. When he reached Lindsay’s bedchamber door, where Drew impatiently waited, he paused briefly, seeming to consider for a moment. Then finally, he reached for the handle and opened the door, letting Drew inside before softly closing the door behind him.

Drew padded over to the bed.

Lindsay hadn’t moved since Drew had left. He lay on his side in the same crescent moon shape, his poisoned arm stretched out across the mattress in front of him, the vulnerable underside showing through the pale muslin.

Deftly, quietly, Drew leapt up onto the mattress and settled his big body down beside Lindsay, laying his great head alongside Lindsay’s vulnerable, bandaged arm. He wanted to gnaw the bandages open and lick all the soreness and poison away.

Instead he snuffled unhappily and went to sleep.

Chapter Fifteen

“Drew?What are you doing here?”

Drew woke reluctantly, dragged from the deepest midst of sleep by an incredulous voice and a hand shaking his shoulder. Blinking blearily, he became aware of his situation by degrees: that was Lindsay’s voice in his ear, Lindsay’s hand on him. Drew was in Lindsay’s bed and he was—

—happy?

“Drew!”

He felt an almost physical nudge at his name—was that Lindsay’s will asserting itself?—and his eyes snapped open in surprise, only to screw closed again at the sunshine streaming directly into his face through the window. “Mmmpf,” he managed. “What time is it?”

He was back in his human form.

“Not quite eight,” Lindsay informed him. “More to the point, why are you here?”

Drew struggled up on to his elbows, blinking. He could only have been asleep a handful of hours and he felt very far from rested. He dragged his mind back to the night before, when he’d first brought Lindsay home.

“I thought youwantedme to stay with you,” Drew said, voice raspy with sleep. He watched as Lindsay got out of bed and shouldered into his crimson satin banyan. He looked like a poppy. Gorgeous and vivid and fragile all at once—though a little less fragile this morning, Drew was glad to see. There was a tiny bit of colour in his cheeks and Drew had felt that slight familiar surge of will from him when he woke. A trace of the maker bond.

The wolf’s ability to heal was a powerful thing.

Drew smiled, sitting up properly, but Lindsay did not smile back.

“Whatever my wishes may have been when we first got back,” Lindsay said, frowning, “I distinctly recall that you left and I wasn’t expecting to wake up to you this morning. Yet here you are.”