him as a man, not when that primal inner beast wanted to claim her for its own. But this was bitter medicine, dragging her into the dangerous—and baffling—morass his own life had become.
She brushed away his proposal as a horse might twitch away a fly. “You cannot do this alone,” she said. “Whether either of us like it, you need an ally. God help us both, but that ally is me.”
Thoughts of Heirs, Blades, Earth Spirits, and his own complex, changeable nature spiked in and out of his mind in the preparation of camp. His fascination with Astrid Bramfield grew each moment he spent with her.
The journey from Victoria to the trading post had taken Nathan through some of the wildest and roughest terrain he’d ever encountered. He knew a fair amount about life out of doors—no matter how much the school administrators had tried to coax or beat the Native out of him, he’d been determined to learn something of his tribal self. And the voyageur who’d served as his guide between his home and the trading post seemed to have tree sap running in his veins, his knowledge was so deep, and had taught Nathan a few things about surviving in the wild.
Though the voyageur had many years on Astrid Bramfield, he didn’t possess her instinct or expertise. She chose the site of their camp with a keen eye, close to a river, but not so close that the site might flood should the waters rise. Ample feed for the now-hobbled horses and mule. His heightened sense of smell told him she’d steered clear of game trails. No unwanted guests during the night.
“The Heirs might come,” he said as they spread dried bracken on the ground for bedding.
She shook her head. “They will, but not today. Even their guides cannot find the hidden pass out of the valley. They’ll lose time doubling back and skirting it. Besides, we are far enough from the river so I can hear them coming.”
“I can help with that, too,” he pointed out, touching a fingertip to his ear. “Unexpected gift.” He could also hear the sounds of her body in motion, so that he was aware of every shift, every sigh.
Kneeling, she began to dig a fire pit. He noted that she made one hole in the ground, and then a smaller connecting hole beside it. He saw the rationale when, after she lit a fire, the smoke dispersed.
“Clever,” he murmured. He lowered down to sitting, cross-legged. “Our position won’t be given away by the smoke.”
“A war-camp fire,” she said. The flames were low in the pit, barely giving off any light. In the growing dusk, her cool remove kept her distant, even as she sat opposite him.
“Did you learn to do that out here,” he asked, “or when you were a Blade?”
She scowled. “I thought Indians were supposed to be stoic and silent.”
“I’m not your typical Indian,” he noted, a fair amount of pride tingeing his voice. He’d worked like a fiend to ensure no one mistook him for ordinary. And now he was far beyond ordinary, in ways even he couldn’t have envisioned.
She regarded him steadily, the fire pit between them. In her eyes was a tentative reaching out, a marked contrast to her tart words. Her voice softened, became pliant with curiosity. “I cannot figure it. You seem remarkably…adjusted to your new magic.”
“I won’t let myself go mad, even if a man doesn’t often learn he can change into a wolf.”
“Usually someone doesn’t have a say in the matter of madness. It takes them, whether they want it to or not.”
“Like grief,” he said.
Vulnerability flared in her gaze. He wanted to take that vulnerability into himself, shelter her.
“Like grief,” she answered, then looked away, breaking the connection.
The truth was, and he could hardly voice it to himself, let alone Astrid Bramfield, he felt…relieved. Late at night, he had lain in bed, at war with himself, struggling to contain something he couldn’t name, something animal inside of him that scrabbled to be let out. When he dreamt, his dreams were of moonlit forests, of nocturnal hunts and flight. Those who ran the school that raised him, they insisted Natives were wild, savage creatures that wanted taming. He had to prove them wrong. So he rebelled against not only them, but himself.
“Why—” she began, then stopped herself.
“Yes?”
She made a dismissive gesture, but he wouldn’t let her retreat so easily. “Ask your question.”
She tried again to wave it away.
“Short of being bludgeoned with a heavy log,” he said, “I refuse capitulation.”
“How aggravating,” she muttered.
“Effective,” he countered. “No one was going to hand a Native a law degree. I had to seize it for myself.”
She seemed to respect that. “Are there any other Indian attorneys in Victoria?”
“No, and probably not in all of British Columbia, either. And I wasn’t called to the bar by falling for such simple attempts at distraction. Ask your question,” he repeated.
Knowing that she couldn’t shake him, she finally asked, “Why did you turn into a wolf at the cabin? How did you know how to do it? You didn’t believe it was possible.”
He turned his gaze to the fire she had built with such skill. Only the tips of the flames showed at the rim of the pit. One would hardly know a goodly blaze burned beneath the surface. “The first time—I’m not sure. Can’t even remember. But the second time…” He frowned. “I saw that trapper’s gun pointed at you. He wanted to hurt you. And I couldn’t let that happen.”
His answer caught her off guard. “You were protecting me?”
“Yes.”
Her jaw tightened as it did, he began to learn, when she was angry. “I don’t need protection.”
Nathan’s own temper flared. “Tell that to the wolf. We both saw you threatened. And he came out. You look tough, but you’re also a woman.”
“Tough? Like an old, stringy hen?”
He almost laughed at her look of outrage. She might have been one of the most unusual women he’d ever met, but she had her feminine vanities, just the same. Made him wonder what other parts of her were as purely female.
His animal rumbled in his chest. Man and beast were both intrigued with Astrid Bramfield. He had felt it earlier and he felt it now. The man was drawn by her mind, her tenacity and will. The beast’s interest was much more primitive but just as powerful. He was both, animal and man. Each moment from now on would be a fight between the two parts of himself. Unless he found balance.
“So, to answer you,” he said, “instinct guided me.”
“And, when you were the wolf, was it you? Did you have the same thoughts, the same feelings?”
“I was there,” he said, after considering her question. “But I was also the wolf. His mind and mine…blended together. Hard to explain. I want you to feel it with me.”
The
