Page 114 of White Wolf

She’d turned onto her side, propped up on her elbow, the covers around her waist so he could see her breasts, full and unrestrained, nipples pebbled in the cool air of the room. The ribbons had worked loose of her hair and it fell in crimped streamers down her arm, across the pillow. Her gaze was unembarrassed, but soft, as she looked him over head to toe in the low amber lamplight.

Something like hope burst to life in his chest. It had been so long since he’d dared to want anything personal and selfish; at least for now, the world shut outside the door, he allowed himself to hope for a future beyond the war and his great White plans, one that included her, and more nights like these.

He crawled back into bed and lit them both a cigarette, lifted his arm so she could duck beneath it and snuggle in against his chest.

She sighed, breath warm against his throat. “Will it make me horrible if I say I want to go with you?”

“Well. I can’t say I’m very noble company.”

“Hmm. You’re not.”

“Hey.”

“But that’s not what I meant.” She took a long drag and he swore he could hear her thinking. “This is – being a soldier – it’s a way to…to avenge my family.” Her voice grew faint at the end. “I don’t want to abandon them.”

“You won’t be.” He rubbed what he hoped were soothing little circles on her shoulder with his free hand. “I want you with me, but I know what it’s like to feel that way, so I won’t ask you to come. Not if you think you can’t.”

Her hair rustled as she turned her head, and her gaze landed on the side of his face. “You want me to come?” A bit of that hope he’d felt sounded like it had found its way into her voice.

He turned so he could look at her. She was disheveled, her lips swollen and red. Impossibly lovely. “I do.”

She looked at him a moment longer, eyes tracing over his features. Then nodded and settled again. “I’ll come.”

It was the closest he’d felt to truly happy in a long, long time.

25

NORTHBOUND

Their steamer was called theRebel, which Sasha thought apt. Though, in a country ruled by rebels, they were in the distinct minority of rebellious-minded individuals. His papa would havetsked and shook his head about their whole business, made a remark about trading one set of autocrats for another, but it wasn’t Sasha’s business to worry about that. He was just the attack dog here. Attack wolf.

And speaking of wolves, his were terribly unhappy to be onboard a ship headed up the Volga, howling in their steel crates below deck. Sasha wanted to go to them, but Monsieur Philippe was in a teaching mood. Again.

Their entire ragtag group was crowded around a bolted-down table in the mage’s private cabin, crammed in like sardines, shoulders overlapping. The lantern overhead swayed a little and was the only indication that the ship was plowing up the river rather than sitting still. Sasha could feel the vibrations of the water, but knew the others couldn’t.

Katya sat wedged between Nikita and Sasha, and Sasha could sense a new contentment in her. She smelled like Nikita, like lovemaking, and Sasha wanted to smile every time he looked at her. Good for them; they deserved a little happiness amid all this chaos. And Nikita had a distinctly relaxed look about him that Sasha had never seen before.

Nikita had always been in charge, the quiet authoritative presence in their midst, and certainly the strong captain they all turned to. But today he was playing the leader with something almost like relish; still cool and composed, but very much aware of his role now. If Katya was responsible for that, Sasha wanted to hug her.

“I don’t understand why we’re taking him all the way back to Stalingrad before we wake him up,” Nikita said, frowning across the table at Philippe.

“You see,” Philippe started, and then paused, tilting his head. “I’m afraid there might be ears listening.”

Ivan heaved himself up with a sigh and went to the cabin door. When he opened it, he revealed a cabin boy loitering just outside, one who jumped and yelped when Ivan shoved his big shoulders through the small doorway and said, “Can I help you?” in a tone that suggested any help forthcoming would involve fists.

“N-no,” the boy stammered, and hurried off.

Ivan looked left and then right before he closed the hatch again and wedged himself back into their ring with much elbowing and grumbling from Feliks.

“Shut up,” Kolya said.

Philippe cleared his throat. “Yes? Well, the trouble is that Our Friend Grigory is very distinctive looking, and he spent his years as friend to the royal couple in Petrograd. Doubtless there are those who would know his face, and we can’t afford that, not so soon. So I think it best if we take him back to the Ingraham Institute and, like we did with Sasha, allow him a moment to gather his wits and regain his strength. He will be very weak at first, and this way we’ll be afforded absolute privacy.”

Nikita sighed, but said, “Fair enough. Will he recognize you?”

“If not by sight, then by scent, certainly. To my knowledge, I’m the only mage he ran across in society.”

A low, mournful howl echoed through the ship, and Sasha whined in automatic response, fidgeting in his seat. Everyone turned to him, Katya’s expression openly sympathetic.

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