Page 85 of Master Wolf
Lindsay’s cock had softened now and when Drew raised himself up, he slipped out of Drew’s body. Drew climbed over him and settled down beside him, reaching out a hand to stroke his face, his dark hair.
“I’m getting used to your hair like this,” he said. “Though I loved it when you wore it long.”
“Did you?” Lindsay asked softly. “It’s terribly unfashionable these days, but I’ll grow it if you like.”
“Perhaps,” Drew said, moving closer, nuzzling into Lindsay’s neck. “Though short hair has its compensations. Your neck is wonderfully accessible.” He grazed his lips over the already-fading bite mark and laughed softly. “Just as well we have the next few centuries together. Enough time for me to see your hair in every possible style I could imagine.” Lindsay stiffened and Drew raised his head, gazing down into dark eyes that were wide with fear. Hesitantly he said, “I assumed too much. You don’t want to—”
“I do,” Lindsay interrupted, reaching his arm around Drew to pull him closer. “I want it all, everything you are prepared to give me. If I hesitate it’s because I had to accept a long time ago that I couldn’t have you, even though I desperately wanted you. It may… take me some time to trust that your feelings on that have changed.” He gave a trembling smile. “But you’re right. Time is one thing we have in abundance.”
They kissed again, softly, lightly. Then Drew said. “Shift with me. You need to heal more.”
“You hate shifting,” Lindsay murmured against his lips. “You only do it at full moon, when you have to.”
“That was before,” Drew replied, smiling. “My wolf and I have… reached a new understanding.”
“I’m glad,” Lindsay whispered. “I love your wolf.” Sitting up, he moved onto his hands and knees, lifted his head up ceilingward and shifted with a swift, quiet elegance that Drew could only envy.
Already Lindsay’s wolf looked better. His coat was sleeker, the bare patches growing over. He padded over to Drew and ducked his head, rubbing his cheek against Drew’s face. The gesture—sweet and loving—brought tears to Drew’s eyes.
Drew stroked his head, loving the thick fur beneath his fingers. “It may take me a little longer, love, but I’m coming,” he said. “Wait for me.”
Epilogue
Bath, England
20thMay 1821
My dearest Lindsay,
I am writing this letter from our new home which (can you believe it?) is inBath, of all places! I was certain we would be returning to Paris but Mim decided we should find somewhere quieter for Alys. When she heard that Bath had a reputation for being restful, she arranged a visit and Alys liked it very well. She said as much in two whole words (which isverytalkative for Alys): “home” and—admittedly rather obscurely—“dragonfly”. Since she smiled when she said her second word, Mim and I decided that counted as approval. At any rate, we have now rented a house at Sydney Gardens until the end of the year, so we are going to be here for a little while at least.
The hierarchy of our household is quite interesting. Mim has sat at the top of our little tree since I’ve known her, but Alys has rather disrupted things—well, she is Mim’s maker, I suppose. It’s curious though. Sometimes, she acts as though she is in charge of us all. At other times, she behaves almost like a child. She’s a fanciful creature.
Although her tongue is grown back, she still rarely speaks. A word here or there at most. We hope that will increase, though she does not seem to mind being almost mute.
Her hair has also grown back fully and it is completely white—not a brilliant white, like snow. More like the cream from the top of the milk. Her eyebrows and lashes are the same. With being so pale-skinned—paler than you even—she looks like a little ghost sometimes.
As we both know, though, looks can be deceptive She can’t be as delicate as she looks. She survived centuries in the hands of the White Ravens after all.
Mim says most of the silver burns on her body have healed now. There are still some faint scars on her face, which may vanish in time. What other scars she may bear—on her mind, on her soul—we don’t know. But then, we don’t even know how old she is. What trials she has been through in her long, long life. Mim says she was already very old when Mim first met her.
It’s odd. When I look at Alys, I feel so protective of her, as though she is delicate and fragile, when the truth is, I am the fragile one among us. The lone mortal, getting on in years. There is a wisdom that comes from mortality though. Lessons that can only be learned from the gradual weakening of the body. I am younger than every one of you—but sometimes I feel like the oldest of us all.
As for Mim, she misses you both. And Francis, of course. She speaks of him every day, as though she is afraid his memory might slip away if she does not do so. It helps, I think, that she has Alys and me.
We have decided to live as unashamed eccentrics here in Bath. To our new neighbours we will appear to be a handsome older man (if I do say so myself) with a pair of beautiful women at his beck and call (if only they knew!) We have already been given the cut direct by the exceedingly snooty residents of number eight and we are looking forward to arousing gossip when we attend an assembly later this week. It is rather surprising that Mim is so willing to put her head above the parapet but there is something about Alys that brings out her mischievous side.
Ah, now, here she is: the First Lady of the Treasury herself. She has just walked into the drawing room and is demanding to know what I’m doing. Excuse me a moment, while I make my report…
I am back.
Mim says she wants Drew to bring her something pretty from Italy for her mantelpiece: a china shepherdess? She is laughing uproariously at that. Does it make any kind of sense to you?
I hope you are having a wonderful time in Verona, my dear. No work or excitement. Only good food and wine and sleeping like a lion in the sunshine with your lover. For this while at least.
But I do miss you, my friend. Come back restored and well-rested. Then we will see what lies in store for us all. Our next chapter.
Until the summer, my dear.