Chapter Four: Dane

Enchanting.

This was the word in my mind while I watched her walk away across the sand.

She was lit by the golden glow of the sun. The wind ruffled her long hair. The hem of her dress swirled around her calves below the long black sweater.

“Enchanting.” I said the word aloud.

My heart was pounding. I could see it moving under my shirt.

I have what my father called “an amorous nature.” But I infrequently felt this kind of excitement.

And never for a woman who’d not been turned.

I thought of the splendid werewolf Bianca.

She'd had a mane of black hair and porcelain skin, and was an Alpine wolf in Lupine form. She was thin and graceful, with a swan-like neck, long well-formed limbs, and a thin waist. And she adored me.

With an old, established, wealthy pedigree, her father and mine were distant cousins.

Everyone expected a marriage proposal. After just three months together, her mother and aunts were looking at wedding gowns for her.

I had strong feelings for her. But I knew it wasn’t love. Nevertheless, I enjoyed her company.

And she loved sex.

We fucked feverishly at every chance, and she always left me totally fulfilled.

But she was reckless.

One night under the full moon she left off her chains and refused to lock herself in her cage.

She wanted to run wild, to rampage like the werewolf she was:  

“As long as I’ve been turned to a wolf, I might as well understand what it really means to be one.”

And she did. She ran amok all night long, preying upon other animals, destroying property, even confronting me, her Alpha, while I was still in human form.

She attacked me repeatedly, going for my throat. I’d come to chain her, to protect her from herself, and I fought to get the handcuffs around her forepaws and the chain around her neck.

I could not.

In her full Lupine state, she was much stronger than I.

I backed away, but she pounced again, snarling and baring her long white teeth. The fangs ripped into my neck, barely missing my carotid artery . . . barely missing killing me.

The chain and cuffs fell from my grasp as I fought for my life.

And then, she paused, pulled back, and sniffed me.

Did she recognize something about me? Did she know who she was attacking?

I don’t know, but I managed to escape.

To my everlasting shame, I ran, my blood flowing from my wounds and splashing on the ground at my feet.

Like a coward, I fled.

I couldn’t remain. I couldn’t protect her from the Officers.

If I’d stayed, she’d have killed me.

By now I was only a short distance from my estate.

I learned of her death the next morning.

Just before the dawn broke, she was shot and killed by one of the island’s Enforcement Officers—werewolves themselves who, after consuming a rare potion supplied by the mainlanders, kept their reason during the full moon. They used a silver bullet. It pierced her beautiful white fur and struck her heart.

Bianca was gone.

And now, had I fallen for someone who was what again my father would have called “common” and “below my station”?

She, Adara Huntington, was the daughter of a hardware merchant.

Living on Vukasin Island was like living in a very small town. Everyone was familiar with everyone else’s background, as was I, although I hadn’t made as much of a study of the subject as some of the island's gossips.

But I knew, as did everyone, that her grandfather had been a janitor.

Worse still, Adara’s mother was been a cleaning woman in her youth.

Worst of all, she was a social climber, eager for her three daughters to “marry well.”

Her mother was on the hunt for young men who were single and in respected professions—doctors, lawyers, accountants—and who had the means to support her daughters in style.

There were three daughters.

Adara: whom I’d just encountered. People on the island said she was sensible and down-to-earth. But vivacious, quick witted, and fun-loving. A happy girl. Intelligent but not bookish.

Fawna: so close to Adara that they were like twins. Fawna was sweet and lovely. A great friend to animals and children. Known and loved across the island for her kindness. With a shy and demure nature.

Emmalina: completely unlike the other two. She was “the beautiful daughter.” She flaunted her looks. But she was silly and naïve, almost stupid. Always lacking good judgment and tact.

Each month at the dark moon festival the mother made the rounds, seeking men to introduce to her daughters. She was not the only one. Other middle-class mothers did the same.

It was why I never attended.

Yet here I was with my heart about to beat out of my chest over one of these middle-class daughters. Not just middle class, but . . . .

Plain.

Her figure was fair enough—more than fair. Her body was gorgeous.

But her face unremarkable. A smooth complexion, good teeth, a nice smile, and sufficient bone structure . . . .

Adequate.

And that’s where it stopped.

She could have been made “pretty” by cosmetics, but no amount of makeup could make her beautiful.

Beautiful like my lost Bianca.

I could surround myself with beauties if I wanted to. I had in the past, and I was sick of the shallow personalities and empty heads that accompanied their high cheekbones and long dark lashes.

I’d inherited a huge oceanside estate and my father’s vast resources of wealth so, although confined to Vukasin, I had my pick of the many stunning Lupine females on the island.

Why, then, was I so attracted to this plain, common, middle-class human?

Why was my heart beating so?

Why was my blood rushing through my veins?

I would see her again soon. I must see her again. No matter what.

How does the phrase go?

Though Hell should bar the way.

Unbeknownst to me at the time, eventually it would.