A Wolf's Heart (Wolf Mountain Peak Book 1) Read online

  “God damn it, woman, why didn't you say something?” he asked. “Where is there food on this sprawling metropolis?”

  It was Tuesday meaning that her tuition payment had come out of her account. If she had any hope of making it to next semester, or at least until her next loan payment, $5.99 specials were not in her future. “I'm alright.”

  “What, you don't eat on Tuesdays?”

  She would have laughed if it weren't so sad. Instead, she briefly leaned her head against his shoulder, trying to get her bearings.

  She knew he could kill her, but she had seen her blood tests. He could also save her, if he wanted.

  “God,” she managed, when the feeling had passed. “That was close.”

  “Close to what?” he raised an eyebrow.

  “Last time I was in here, I forgot lunch as well and ended up on the floor. It seems to be a trend around here.”

  “Enya,” he said. “I would appreciate you not dying before you solved my mystery.”

  “Sorry to inconvenience you,” she replied. “Dou think you can take me home?”

  “Aye,” he answered, although there was an unexpected note of sympathy in his voice.

  Lately, she noticed that he didn’t choose to flood her with magic, nor did he choose to cure her there and then. Had it been a one-time proposition? Was being a dragon shifter, a part witch, something that he made up? Something that could only be done at a certain time?

  She had to know. Once she was inside the confines of her tiny apartment, the questions came flooding out.

  “Can you show me?”

  “Show you what?” he asked, with raised eyebrows as he had barely finished shutting the door.

  “That you are a dragon? I know you have magic; I saw my blood tests. But you have to understand why this is all so hard for me to believe.”

  He said nothing as he leaned against the counter, and her heart plummeted.

  “You aren't, are you?” she asked. “God, I'm an idiot.”

  “I am,” he assured her, with a glare that could be described as icy. “But it's not as simple as that.”

  “What, it needs to be a full moon?” she taunted him. The lack of food was making her head pound, and she was feeling testy.

  “No,” he replied, “but it takes a higher level of magic to transform on Earth than on Umora. And I don't have an unlimited amount of magic here. So, if I show you to satisfy your curiosity, you better not need any relief for about a week. Is that clear?”

  She considered this, and then nodded.

  “Just toss me that banana and there's half a sandwich in the fridge. I'll be alright. My blood tests after the last time were good.”

  He sighed, clearly not a fan of this plan. But as powerful as he felt, he understood that she could refuse to help him. She was dying one way or another, and his threats didn't mean as much to her as they did to a healthy person.

  “Fine,” he said, as he retrieved the food. “Stand back. Don't move. This apartment is barely big enough to hold both of us, forget a dragon.”

  “Right,” she sat on her loveseat against the wall and crossed her legs, watching him intently.

  She wasn't sure what to expect, if anything at all. But when the gold magic started swirling around him, she knew that everything he told her was true.

  The magic began to engulf him, the gold burning her eyes. She reached up to shield her eyes, but she couldn't tear her gaze completely from him. Giant wings began to expand, and his head went from human to angular. Smoke came from his nose, and green and gold scales engulfed his body.

  In almost no time at all, a beautiful dragon was standing in her living room, his wing span going from wall to wall. He dipped his angular head towards her, and she slowly unfolded herself from the couch, mesmerized.

  “Wow, “she said. “You weren't joking.”

  He met her eyes, lowering his head. With a smile, she reached up and her instinct of being an animal lover causing her to scratch his eye ridge

  His multi-lidded eyes closed in pleasure, just for a moment.

  “Are you in there?” she asked, softly. “Or is your brain all dragon now?”

  Obviously, he couldn't answer her. But he bumped his head against her hand, and his eyes flashed.

  “Yes, you are,” she grinned. “You are in there.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, and he sat back on his haunches. He had to duck his head to avoid hitting her ceiling, and she smiled.

  “Alright,” she said. “You proved it to me. I'm going to change. Maybe you should change, too.”

  He cocked his head, to indicate that he understood. She headed into her bedroom, shutting the door.

  It was only then that she covered her face with her hands, and took a deep breath.

  This was real. Everything she knew before him had been a lie. Dragons were real, witches were real, and despite what the doctors had told her, there was a cure for her. And the cure was standing in her living room.

  She took her time changing into sweatpants, pulling back her hair as she finished the banana in her hand. When she felt less shell shocked, she opened the door again.

  Cole was sitting on the loveseat as if nothing had ever happened. He looked tired, but satisfied.

  “Believe me now, do you?”

  “I believed you before,” she said, as she leaned on the counter. “I just needed to see it. I needed to see that my hope was real.”

  “Hope?” he asked, confused.

  “Hope,” she said. “For a cure.”

  “Oh,” he clearly hadn't thought of it that way. “Yes. That is real.”

  “Is it easier for you?” she asked. “To be a dragon? Or is it human that is easier?”

  “Easier?” that seemed to confuse him even more. “There isn't one form that's easier. On Umora, everyone takes the form that suits them at the time. The dragon is easier to be angry, to be strong, but a human form has it's advantages as well.”

  “But there must be one that you prefer.”

  “Didn't you grow up bilingual?” he asked.

  “Yes,” she replied.

  “Perfectly? There isn't a language that you prefer, is there?”

  “No,” she admitted. “Both my parents' languages are natural to me. I wouldn't know how to be unilingual.”

  “There you go,” he replied. “We aren't so different, are we?”

  “No,” she said, “we aren't.”

  “Now that it's all sorted,” he pointed to the half-eaten sandwich, the moment broken. “eat. And then it's back to work. I can't wait forever.”

  “Neither can I,” she said, as she moved towards the sandwich. They were both on borrowed time it seemed, and she wasn't sure which of them would outlast the other – in patience, or in life.

  Chapter 4

  “I think I have a solution,” Enya said, when he burst into her house for the third day that week. “But we have to go out.”

  He leaned against the wall in the front hallway.

  “How long have you been thinking about that excuse?” he asked, although it was slightly good natured. “Why didn't you say it yesterday?”

  “Because yesterday, I wasn't quite so desperate,” she replied. “But today, I'm at the end of my rope.”

  “I thought you were good at this,” he said, and she rolled her eyes.

  “I am good at this. But in terms of education, I'm still only in my second year. And I spend half my time trying not to throw up. Can you have some compassion?”

  “The world showed no compassion to…” he was about to lament his own misfortune, but her eyes, large and pleading, told him otherwise. “Never mind. Fine. Yes. What's your idea?”

  “Why are you so testy today?” she asked with a raised eyebrow. “What happens when you are away from me?”

  That was not an answer he wanted to give her. That was an answer that involved long hours of walking the streets, of lurking, and of finding
a place where he wouldn't be noticed. He hadn't been back to Umora in weeks, and Earth didn't exactly have exciting possibilities. Conserving his magic except to convince people to give him food and shelter wasn't the most exciting story, but he wasn't about to admit that to her.

  “What is your idea, Enya?” he asked as she sighed.

  “The translator's ball,” she replied. “It's tonight, and there will be top-notch translators there. The theme is all about puzzles and games. We could easily sneak our puzzle in and see if anyone could help.”

  “Do you realize how compromising that could be?”

  “It could,” she said. “If I didn't know who could be trusted, who could be too drunk to say a word about yet another puzzle they had to solve.”

  “Hmm,” he contemplated. “And you realize if this goes wrong, it's on your head?”

  “Will you stop threatening to kill me?” she asked him. “Because that's my fate, no matter what you do. The only way this works in my favor is if it works out exactly the way you want it.”

  “You're right,” he sighed, giving up. “Fine. What do you need to go to this ball?”

  “You,” she replied, and his shoulders tensed.

  “Oh no,” he said. “You are not roping me into this.”

  “I can't go alone,” she protested. “Don't you think it will look odd, me standing alone, shuffling this puzzle around?”

  “As opposed to someone they've never seen, who is not a translator?”

  “But you can speak another language,” she pointed out. “It's just one they've never heard before.”

  He smirked at that.

  “You’ve thought this out, haven’t you?”

  “Possibly,” she admitted, blushing. “What harm could it do, really? I need a boost, and if this world is to be your new life until you are accomplished, then you might as well get out and about.”

  He said nothing to that, crossing his arms.

  “Fine,” he said. “What do you need?”

  “I have everything I need.” She eyed her closet, knowing there was one dress that could still fit her rapidly slimming figure. “The question is, what are you going to wear?”

  “What do I need to wear?” It was the first time she had seen him look confident.

  “Something formal, I imagine,” she said. “Do you have a suit? Can you get a suit? No, don’t just snap your fingers. You said you must conserve your magic. You can go shopping.”

  “You're intolerable,” he said. “If I had known that in the park when we met, I–”

  “You'd what?” She raised an eyebrow. “Would you really not work with me?”

  Something passed between them – a look, a glance – and he felt lost for words.

  “No,” he stuttered at last. “I'd probably do the same thing.”

  “Good.” She grinned.

  In the end, they managed to get him a suit. She pointed him around the corner to a mall, and he managed to not kill anyone on the way there or back. Sharing the space to get dressed was a little tricky, however. She seemed to take on new energy when she was preparing for a formal event. She moved between the bedroom and the living room, fixing her hair, using the better light for makeup, jostling around him. But when she stepped out of the room in a red dress with a billowing skirt and her hair piled on top of her head, Cole had to hold his breath.

  Before, she was quirky and pretty in an unassuming sort of way. Now, she was simply stunning.

  She wasn't anything like the dragon women or the witch women. She was her own person, her own type of beauty, and he had to look away.

  “One would think you were stitching the dress by hand with the amount of time you took,” he said, standing up.

  She couldn't stop staring at him. In a charcoal-grey suit and a black shirt, his eyes were piercing, his skin icy, and his cheekbones perfectly carved. He looked like a high fashion model that would stare back at her from the magazine pages, usually with an impossibly beautiful woman in his arms.

  “Did you buy that off the rack?” she asked, when she felt like she could speak properly. “The suit?”

  “There was a man who was eager for a commission,” Cole replied. “And I was eager for him to shut up. Now, how are we getting there?”

  “Do you have legs?” she asked. “It's not far.”

  “Walking?” He raised an eyebrow. “Commoner.”

  “And don't forget it,” she teased. “Although the people going tonight will not be commoners. The tickets are expensive, but experiences are included in my scholarship.”

  “You know you don't have to worry about money, right?” he held open the door for her, shockingly gentlemanly of him. “I don't know what you need, but one snap of the finger, and I could get it.”

  She raised an eyebrow as she headed out the door, both at his comment and his sudden display of manners. Now that she had seen him in dragon form, she could see the similarities in things like the way he moved and the way his eyes flashed. How she had ever seen him as anything but different was completely stunning, really, given how different he seemed.

  “Aren't you supposed to be conserving your magic?”

  “Uh,” he grunted. “Maybe anything you want after next week.”

  “Anything?” she teased him as they hit the pavement. It was early in the evening, but the night air was already chilly. Enya crossed her arms over her chest, trying to keep out the chill as she walked. “I want a unicorn.”

  “No you don't,” he replied. “They are nasty, evil creatures, who will stab you at any opportunity.”

  Her mouth fell open.

  “Don't say that. My childhood!”

  “Dragons are nicer than unicorns,” he said. “And dragons are not nice at all.”

  “What is nice then?” she asked, determined that her entire perception of the world was going to be ruined.

  He paused, thinking for a moment. She was leading the way, so he didn't have to concentrate on where they were going.

  “Werewolves, as you know them, or wolf shifters, aren't bad. Very sociable. Very touchy.”

  “Werewolves?” she asked in disbelief. “The whole world is going crazy.”

  “Don't believe everything you read,” he warned her. “The world isn't as you think it is.”

  “I know that,” she replied. “I knew that the moment I was diagnosed. They teach you in school that you can grow up and be anything that you want; that the world is at your fingertips, that it's easy if you just try. But…” she realized the conversation had suddenly taken a dark turn. “Sorry. Never mind. Where were we?”

  “Never mind where we were,” he said, grabbing her wrist. “My world crashed under me when they told me I wasn't their Prince. It didn't make an ounce of difference what I wanted or what I will get, and it shouldn't make a difference to your life, either.”

  She searched his eyes, her heart hammering in her chest.

  “Thank you,” she said. “It's nice to hear.”

  “But you don't believe it.”

  She shrugged one bony shoulder.

  “It's just something I've come to accept. I don't need a speech,” she tried to smile. “I think we're lost, by the way.”

  He rolled his eyes, the moment broken.

  “How long have you lived here, exactly?”

  “My whole life,” she admitted. “But north and south have always baffled me.”

  She pulled up the GPS on her phone, indicating where they should go. After a quick glance, his long legs started in the opposite direction. She noticed that he hadn't let go of her arm.

  “Do you have them on your world? GPS?”

  “Navigation?” he asked. “We do, of course. But it's easier. The palace is north. Our rebellions are mostly south. It's hot in the east and cold in the west. One does figure it out rather quickly.”

  “Plus, when you can fly over all of it, it's probably effortless,” she answered, and he smirked.

  �
��It is. Seeing things from the air gives you a better idea of direction, I admit. But still, getting lost in your own city makes you special.”

  “I see your language is improving,” she tried to look on the bright side.

  In no time at all, they found the hotel where the ball was being held. All around them, beautifully dressed women and smartly dressed men entered in droves. Enya heard at least seven different languages being spoken, and she smiled as Cole turned his head in confusion at each one.

  “Greek,” she said. “French. Spanish. German. Russ…no, Ukrainian.”

  “You can recognize them?”

  “Mostly by their bases,” she replied. “It's the first thing they teach you in school, recognizing the roots.”

  “And yet our puzzle alludes you?”

  “Because it doesn't seem to have any logical roots,” she replied. “I can't find any language like it, no matter how far back I go. Every time I recognize something, it's one symbol that is sort of close to something else.”

  “So you say.” He took her arm and she gave him a strange look. “If we're going to be asking these people for help, Enya, we might as well play the part. Shall I be your long-distance fiancé? Did we meet on your inter webs?”

  “Internet,” she corrected him. “And that's creepy. It makes you sound like I mail-ordered you from Russia. Do you want to just be an old friend instead? No one asks questions about old friends who moved away.”

  “Where's the romance in that?” he teased, but accepted the story as they headed inside.

  The ballroom was decorated with photographs of beautifully drawn letters, and everywhere they looked, there were puzzles, games, silent auctions, and laughter. Everyone had a glass of champagne in their hands and a smile on their face. There was a live band playing music, and tables decorated with calligraphy script. The white on black was enchanting, and Enya breathed in the happy air. She rarely got to go to such events, although she longed for them.

  “Don't enjoy it too much,” Cole said. “Remember, there's work to be done.”

  “I thought you wanted to play a part?” she said, as the band took up a new song. “Do you dance?”

  He paused, and then smiled.

  “If it will help crack the code, I'll stand on my head,” he replied, taking her into his arms.