Love Me Still Page 6

  turmoil, the world, at least for these few seconds was at peace.

  “Will you take me to our bed?” she asked. “I’m so tired of sleeping alone.”

  “You’ll never do it again,” Riyu vowed as he bent to pick her up.

  Cael followed his brother to the bed and watched as Riyu set her down. He moved forward, and the two of them slowly undressed her, baring her silky skin to their gaze. And to their touch.

  When she was completely nude, they climbed into the bed with her, tucking her in between them. As they’d done so many nights in the past.

  Chapter Nine

  Heather awoke to a rough tongue licking her cheek. She pried one eye open to see a silver wolf nuzzling her cheek. She smiled and trailed her fingers through the thick fur. Cael.

  She glanced over to see a slightly darker haired grey wolf staring at her. Riyu. The wolf bounced on his front legs, starting toward her then bounding briskly back toward the door.

  Her wolves were playful this morning.

  She threw back the covers and swung her feet over the side of the bed. She put her good leg down first and eased up. Cael pressed his muscled body against her knees to help support her. She reached down to scratch his ears in affection.

  She dressed while her wolves paced impatiently. When she’d bundled herself up and put on her boots, they nudged her out the door into the snow.

  A soft gasp of delight whispered past parted lips. Before her stood a shiny sled. Riyu and Cael pushed her in the direction of it and she climbed onto the seat and pulled the blankets up around her.

  Her two wolves trotted around front and wiggled under the straps. They picked them up in the teeth and started off at a slow pace.

  She sat back and let out a giggle of delight as they headed down the hill. The wind blew cold on her face. She closed her eyes, threw back her head and gloried in the moment. It was as if the last weeks hadn’t happened. She was back with her wolves, laughing and playing. Enjoying life so close to nature.

  They picked up speed, sailing her through snowdrifts and angling through the trees. She let out a squeal as they took a corner too fast. The sled tipped and she went tumbling into the snow, laughing like an idiot the entire time.

  In a flash, her wolves transformed and stood over her in the snow, concern echoing in their eyes.

  “Heather, are you okay?” Cael demanded as he bent to pick her up.

  She retaliated by quickly forming a snowball in her hand and smashing it into his face. His look of surprise was priceless.

  “What the…you little…”

  She burst out laughing. Beside him Riyu grinned, his blue eyes flashing merrily.

  “It’s so good to hear you laugh again,” Cael said hoarsely. “I’d take a thousand snowballs in the face just to hear that sound.”

  “In that case.” She shoved another handful of snow but this time he ducked before she could clobber him with it.

  She tensed, expecting him to retaliate, but instead, he bent and kissed her hungrily, his cold, wet lips fusing to her warmer ones. She melted, just like the ice on his face did.

  “We should get you back,” he said huskily. “You’re going to freeze to death.”

  Riyu righted the sled and brushed the snow from the seat. Cael eased her onto the sled and arranged the furs around her again. Then he and Riyu picked up the leather straps and began pulling her back toward the camp.

  She burrowed into the furs and stared up at the beautiful blue sky. Christmas Day. And it was perfect.

  A good bit later, her mates pulled the sled into camp. Ahead she could see their pack, all assembled in the center of the compound.

  Concern pushed her forward. She leaned, trying to see what could be the matter.

  “Don’t worry, love,” Riyu said as he turned to look at her.

  Both her mates stared at her, their love for her shining in their eyes.

  “We have a surprise for you,” Cael said as he bent down to pick her up.

  Ahead she could hear the giggles of little children, the quiet whisperings of the women and the low rumble of men talking. Then they parted as Cael approached.

  There, in the middle, stood a tall fir tree, decorated from top to bottom with cones, bright paper, handmade ornaments and an assortment of other trinkets.

  Tears filled her eyes as she stared at her pack, all assembled, welcome in their faces. From behind several women, her mother-in-law stepped forward, her expression hesitant.

  Cael gently set Heather on her feet as his mother approached. Heather blinked when Lorna put a gentle hand to Heather’s cheek.

  “My daughter. I’m so sorry for what was done to you by the hunters and by our pack. I can only hope that in time, you can forgive us.”

  She leaned forward and kissed Heather on both cheeks before stepping back.

  Heather’s throat threatened to close. “All is forgiven,” she said hoarsely.

  “Then come. Let us celebrate the holiday as a pack. As we always have, and the gods willing, always will.”

  She took Heather’s hand in hers and pulled her toward the tree. Her pack swarmed forward, all bearing wrapped gifts with an assortment of ribbons and colored paper. They were placed under the tree.

  Tables were set up, food and drink was brought out, and the more musically inclined of her pack pulled out their flutes and began playing merry tunes.

  Heather stood back, humbled by the reception, her pack’s willingness to admit wrong and embrace her once again. Two strong arms settled around her waist as Riyu and Cael flanked her.

  “Merry Christmas, my heart,” Cael murmured close to her ear.

  She put her arms around their waists, pulling them closer to her. “Merry Christmas, my mates. I love you so dearly.”

  “And you are dear to us,” Riyu returned.

  They bent to kiss her but she stepped back and with a push, sent them both sprawling into the snow. She burst out laughing at their astonished expressions before leaping on the both of them.

  They caught her, ever mindful of her wellbeing. She nuzzled their faces in an imitation of them in their wolf form. Then she rose up, staring into their eyes.

  “Take me back to our cabin and make love to me,” she said softly.

  Two sets of crystal blue eyes stared back at her.

  “It would be our fondest desire,” Cael murmured as he closed his arms around her.

  About the Author

  To learn more about Maya, please visit www.mayabanks.com. Send an email to Maya at maya@mayabanks.com or join her Yahoo! group to join in the fun with other readers as well as Maya. https://groups.yahoo.com/group/writeminded_readers

  Look for these titles by Maya Banks

  Now Available:

  Seducing Simon

  Colters’ Woman

  Understood

  Overheard

  Undenied

  Brazen

  Coming Soon:

  The Dear John Letters

  Can a heart encased in stone discover the true meaning of love?

  Miracle at Midnight

  © 2007 Stacia Wolf

  Comtesse Amara de la Cortese isn’t a very nice person. In 1507, she’s a hard-hearted ruler who thinks nothing of imprisoning beggars and ordering their children sold. Enter one saint—Saint Nicholas—whose quest is to protect the young. He imprisons her in stone, but he believes in redemption. Once every fifty years, he grants her forty-eight hours of freedom to answer one apparently simple question. Ten chances. The same question. What is the true meaning of love?

  Sounds simple? Amara, whose heart is stunted by a loveless past, fails each time. On her very last shot at lifting the curse, she finds herself in present-day Manhattan. She meets six-year-old Samantha, who totally believes her fantastic story, and her doctor dad, Nick, who totally doesn’t.

  Despite the threat hanging over her head, Amara is determined to enjoy her last bout of freedom. With Nick and Sami, she explores New York’s unique style of Christmas. She also finds her
self falling in love.

  All too soon, time runs out, in a way none of them imagined. Will Amara find the answer? Or is she doomed to forever have a heart of stone?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Miracle at Midnight.

  A movement below caught her attention. Someone skimmed through the shadows—no, two someones. Using the darkness as their cover, they moved carefully through the courtyard, heading to the stockade. The stockade wouldn’t be heavily guarded. Instead, the soldiers manned the tall walls, to guard the village against the Comte’s veiled threat.

  Instantly, she realized the stealthy pair’s goal. They were to rescue the thief. Stupid, foolish men. She’d exact a harsh price for their treachery, one that would set an example throughout the land. She waited in the shadows, still as a statue, the cold seeping even deeper into her, turning her outrage into strong contempt. Then when two became three, when hushed whispers marked their retreat, she stepped out of the darkness.

  “Guards! Stop those men!”

  In moments, soldiers poured into the square. Amara rushed down several flights of stairs and out to where the three men knelt in the dirty snow, torchlight illuminating their defeat. She stood in front of them and felt as if her father and brother watched her, judging her.

  Her family had ruled for a half-century, and in that time they’d rarely shown mercy. These men, who defied her on such a sacred day, deserved no compassion.

  But that was exactly what one asked for. The thief, she believed.

  “Please, Comtesse, have mercy. My children—”

  “How old are your children?” she asked.

  “My daughter is twelve, my son ten. Their mother died long ago. Now they will be alone.” His eyes held hope mingled with despair; tears left dirty tracks down his face.

  But Amara felt nothing. He’d dared to steal from her and needed to be punished. She looked up at one of her soldiers. “Find these children. They will be sold to pay for this man’s crimes.” She only waited for his nod before turning away.

  “Comtesse! May you be judged as harshly as you judge your own people!”

  Amara didn’t even break stride. The doomed thief’s words meant nothing. She entered her chambers and shut the door, then closed her eyes, calming all her thoughts. No use letting some lawless man and his stupid curses upset her. She didn’t write the laws of the land. “Thou shalt not steal” was a commandment of God. She only upheld it.

  Is mercy not also one of God’s traits?

  The soft voice startled her. Her eyes flew open, and she looked wildly about her. “Who’s there?”

  I am who you refer to as Pere Noel. I prefer Nicholas.

  A man stepped out of the shadows. He wore the robes of a priest and held an ornate staff. He was very old, his white hair streaming over his shoulders. Somehow, he glowed and didn’t seem solid.

  Pere Noel. Father Christmas. It couldn’t be. She had to be dreaming.

  “Who are you really and what do you want?”

  You are very demanding. He watched her, his bright blue gaze never wavering. I want you to answer me this question. What is your heart made of?

  He mocked her. This apparition in her own chambers mocked her. All the hurt and pain of her father’s hatred, her brother’s disdain, filled her. Amara replied, “My heart is of stone, to survive this world.”

  Pere Noel nodded, his eyes seemingly saddened. So be it.

  He pointed his staff at her. Comtessa Amara de la Cortese of Dupois, for your crimes against children, you have condemned yourself by your own words to a life of stone.

  Incredibly, the staff began to glow, and Amara felt herself grabbed by that light, frozen into place. She tried to cry out but she couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. The lights lifted her up, and she dangled, helpless.

  I will grant you a boon. His eyes snapped at each word. Every fifty years, the same length as your family’s despotic reign, you will be granted two days to discover the answer to this question—what is the true meaning of love?

  Give me the correct answer, and your life will be your own. Give me the wrong answer and you will return to being a statue. You will have ten chances.

  Then the light exploded, and Amara found herself outside, in the frigid cold, but she couldn’t feel it. She knew where she was. In front of the little church, still under construction. And she understood several things at once.

  She was made of stone, to match her heart.

  She’d been cursed with a task—to find the true meaning of love.

  And she’d been inscribed with the following words,

  In tribute to those who have lost heart.

  Then consciousness faded away.

  She left everything familiar behind—but love found her anyway.

  Home for Christmas

  © 2007 Kate Davies

  Sophia is determined to spend Christmas on her own terms this year. Her daughter will be spending the holidays with her boyfriend's family, and Sophia has no intention of staying home alone with her memories.

  She knows Ethan would be more than happy to keep her company. But he's her business partner—and her late husband's best friend. It's past time to stop leaning on him and learn to stand on her own two feet. A cruise to the Caribbean might be just the ticket to discovering who she is now, and what she really wants.

  Ethan is stunned to discover that Sophia has decided to go on a cruise for Christmas—alone. He'd thought something more was finally developing between the two of them. If she's ready to move on after the loss of her husband, he'll be damned if he lets her move on without him!

  On the spur of the moment, Ethan books a stateroom, determined to prove to Sophia that what they have goes far beyond friendship. The romantic atmosphere of the cruise sparks a passion the two had only dreamed of before—but can their fledgling relationship survive beyond the vacation of a lifetime?

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Home for Christmas.