Chapter Twenty
Isobella had long since gotten over any embarrassment about public nudity after her first few spells involving the entire coven.
Doing a ritual skyclad meant a better connection, a free flow of power from the elements through the body.
So it rattled her that her body was so affected now.
The heat from the coals in the brazier had nothing on the blaze coursing through her body.
Though Edmond’s attention was focused on the wall behind her, she burned from the inside so hot she might spontaneously combust. Because of him. Because she was naked in front of him.
Isobella had never had this reaction to any man.
It was all she could do to remain standing there, not ten feet from him, and not race across the room and climb him like…
well, like he was a damn tree. An oak. Solid and dependable.
And sexy as hell. He wanted her too. She’d have to be blind not to notice the tenting in his breeches.
Though he appeared to be ignoring it just fine.
“When you are ready, Isobella.”
The deep rumble of his voice, the roughness of it, had tingles rippling across her naked flesh.
What would it do to her if he were to talk dir— Isobella shut the thought down as she clamped her thighs together.
They’d never touched beyond necessity, purely platonic, and she was gearing up to shoot straight for third base. A home run, even.
“Call your wolf forward.”
She sucked in a deep breath, digging deep for every bit of her witch training to keep her grounded and focused on why they were here, in this room. Ironic she was learning about control while this situation, her naked and locked in a room with him, pushed her boundaries and tested her restraint.
She could do this.
Isobella dragged her attention away from Edmond, closed her eyes and focused inward.
She found her center, the place in her mind that was Isobella alone.
Her wolf prowled. Damn the beast inside was powerful, intimidating.
Had presence. In a small, quavering voice, she called her wolf from the darkness.
The triumph of her wolf rang in her ears as she surged forward.
There was no trying about it. Isobella couldn’t stop her.
Couldn’t slow her down. Her wolf was front and center, ripping through her bones and transforming on the fly.
A furious bundle of fur, claws and fangs, Isobella barreled into Edmond, heedless of her tremulous commands.
Oh, God. I’ve lost control. Edmond!
Edmond caught her and flipped her around, her back to his chest, her claws and teeth connecting with nothing but air.
Deep inside, the rage of her wolf overshadowed Isobella’s relief.
Her wolf howled, fighting to be free, refusing to be bound.
She twisted, she turned, but Edmond’s hold was too strong, caging her against his chest.
“Easy now, girl,” he soothed. “You want to run. You want to be free. I understand, but you need to be patient.”
Her wolf fought harder, almost slipping from his grasp. He shifted his grip and settled on the cot, trapping her on his lap.
“Bella, listen to me. Find your center and call her back in.”
Warmth seeped through her fur. From Edmond and his broad chest. From strong arms that encased her and held her close.
She sucked in his scent—musky, intoxicating.
It surrounded her, as surely as his arms did.
Her wolf’s flailing eased a little, and she ceased her howls and growls, sinking into him. Her snarl remained.
“There you go, beautiful girl.” His large hand stroked her fur. “I have you, and I will not let you go.”
The deep rumble of his voice was a lullaby, smoothing away the sharp edges of her frustration, her desire to be in his arms competing with her need to be free, to run.
“Never have I seen a wolf with fur that curled.” He dipped his fingers deep into her fur, letting her curls flow over his fingers like water. “You are a beautiful woman, Isobella, and your wolf is exquisite.”
Her wolf preened under his attentions.
Beautiful? Exquisite? She’d been all raging wolf and slathering beast a moment ago.
“You are strong, Bella. You can do this. I have faith in you. I know this is hard, but I have seen your strength, your power. It is there inside you. Feel it, acknowledge it. Let it shine through.”
He continued to stroke her fur, offering soothing words, cajoling her.
Her wolf was enthralled by his voice. That such a warrior, one who’d taken on so many to save her, thought she was strong, humbled Isobella.
With each word that rumbled up in his chest, vibrating against her back, her wolf calmed a little more, until she settled in his lap, passive and pliant.
“That is my girl.”
His girl? Her wolf soaked it up. Isobella questioned its truth, though she liked the sound of it.
“Call her back in now, Isobella. Shift back.”
Her wolf didn’t want to go. It liked Edmond. Liked the way he held her, tempering his strength and engulfing her with his big body. He could so easily crush her, yet he didn’t. He could’ve shifted, faced her wolf with his own. If he were anything like Gabriel, he’d be huge. But he hadn’t.
She rubbed the top of her head against his chin. He chuckled. Her wolf liked that too. She let out a lupine croon, vocalizing her appreciation, and squirmed closer.
“I know, chaton. I like you, too. But I need Isobella back now. I need you to shift.”
In her mind, Isobella pushed harder, a ridiculous surge of jealousy at the intimacy between Edmond and her wolf giving her a boost. With a resigned chuff, her wolf retreated, slinking back into the depths of her mind, taking with her her shape, her tail and her fur, leaving only a satisfied purr behind.
Isobella opened her eyes to find herself on Edmond’s lap, her back to his chest, her legs straddled over his, spreading her wide, and his big arms wrapped around her naked middle.
Oh. She froze. Tenth century or not, this was a compromising position. Intimate. Sexual.
Edmond groaned, the sound vibrating against her shoulder blades. Soft lips pressed down on the curve of her neck, and the scratch of his beard sent tingles through her already sensitized body.
“Bella.”
The warm whisper of breath across her skin forced a moan from her lips and a dampening between her thighs. Was it wrong to want this, want him?
His arms loosened around her, and she was turning in his lap, snaking her hands around his neck and riding his thighs before she’d given a thought to the consequences. The smugness of her wolf colored her mind. She was all in.
Edmond cupped her face. In his eyes a longing so all-encompassing Isobella could not resist it. She pressed her lips to his. Soft, tentative, a plea. Would he take up her offer, or would he brush her away?
With a low growl, Edmond claimed her mouth, coaxing her lips apart.
She leaned into him, and he deepened the kiss, chasing her tongue, and she gave him everything he asked for and more.
His kiss was…electric. It curled her toes and made her forget where they were and why they were there.
It had her pressing into him, rubbing her core against the hard length in his breeches.
Was this what it was like between Annabelle and Gabriel? This visceral reaction, a current of need drawing them together? By comparison, Douglas’ kisses had been…perfunctory. Emotionless, a duty. No wonder Annabelle had been unable to resist her mate.
Mate? But she wasn’t…
Edmond released her, sliding her off his lap and setting her on her feet at arm’s length. He closed his eyes, his struggle for control etched across his face. She reached out to cup his cheek, but he caught her wrist in his hand. His eyes snapped open, regret shimmering in their brown depths.
He rose, letting her wrist drop and averting his eyes. “You did well, chaton.” His voice was raspy and rough. “We will try it again. With each shift, it should become easier for you to slow down her release.”
Isobella backed away, turning away from him as she grappled with her emotions. Brushed aside again. Like with Douglas. She rubbed at her chest and did a rapid blink of her eyelashes. He’d been as swept up in the moment as she had, hadn’t he?
When she got her game face back on and turned around, Edmond was all business. As though nothing had happened. As though they hadn’t rocked each other’s world.
“When you are ready,” he said, “call your wolf forward again.”
All business except for one part of his body which had yet to get the memo. She couldn’t help but stare at it. Tenting his breeches, it was as impressive as the rest of him.
Edmond’s nostrils flared and a muscle ticked in his jaw. “The sooner we get you trained, the sooner we can go after Faucher.”
Right. Faucher. Her mission. Training. Isobella pulled herself together, but she couldn’t help the small surge of hope. He wasn’t as unaffected as he would like her to believe.
She centered herself, locked onto the place in her mind that was her and her alone, and called forth her wolf.
Again and again and again. She practiced under his watchful eye, under his instruction.
With each shift, she came closer to being present in her wolf form, her commands stronger and more confident.
Unlike the first time, there was no kiss, no hint that this was anything but a training session.
As much as she yearned for it. Though he caged her in his arms, preventing her from hurting him or herself, Edmond was all discipline.
Unlike Isobella, he had his emotions under control.
When she was so exhausted, all desire having long since burned itself out, replaced by a gnawing hunger of a different kind, Edmond called an end to their training session.
She dressed in silence as he unbolted the door. With a weary sigh, she followed him from the training room. She hoped for a hint, a touch, a look to suggest that kiss, that amazing, bone-melting kiss, might be repeated. He gave her nothing.
He paused outside her bedchamber door. “Rest now. It will take some time before your body becomes accustomed to shifting. Your muscles will be sore. I will get Anne to organize a warm bath for you, and I will have the kitchen staff send up something for you to eat.”
She stared after him as he headed down the stairs. She’d thought for a moment, when he’d called her his girl, when he’d kissed her, she might be his mate. But the way he’d switched off…
She leaned against the door frame. Douglas had been all in at first, too.
In hindsight, she could pinpoint the moment he’d turned cold.
She’d put it down to the stress of work and the unrest in the coven.
It had had everyone on edge. She’d been sympathetic, more attentive.
If anything, it had made Douglas pull away more.
But it hadn’t been the coven or work. It’d been because of Irena King.
Edmond disappeared around the corner. Whatever Edmond’s reason for changing his mind—something Gaharet had said, Aubert’s dislike of her—she wasn’t going to make excuses for him or try to coax him around.
She had a mission to focus on. A witch-hunting bishop to stop. These thoughts and emotions about Edmond were confusing the matter, muddying the waters.
Isobella flopped on the bed, her muscles groaning in protest. When a man tells you with his actions how he feels about you, believe him. That’s what her papá had said. And that’s exactly what Isobella planned to do.