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Richelle cringed as the passenger next to her began to raise a fuss over the attendant’s comment.

“If you’re upgrading seats, lady,” the repugnant man interrupted, “then I should be moved. After all, it was your airline’s fault my flight was cancelled and left me stuck in coach when I had a first-class ticket.”

“As I recall,
sir
, your flight was not canceled but delayed. You opted to take this flight because it was non-stop rather than take another flight that would require a transfer in Atlanta. And you didn’t have a first-class ticket, it was business class.”

He began to fidget in his seat as his gaze darted about. His

embarrassment at being caught in a white lie to get his way had made his face turn beet red and perspiration bead in his brow as the stewardess continued her gentle, but firm admonishment.

“I am simply moving the young lady up front as she looks ill. I certainly wouldn’t want her to get sick and accidentally get your suit dirty…
sir
.”

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He cleared his throat and settled back into his seat without another word as the attendant assisted Richelle to the front and closed the drapes behind her. Richelle looked about at several other passengers traveling first-class. A few were asleep, one was listening to music on the headset, three were reading, and two looked like they were working. Not one had so much as raised their head to look at her as the flight attendant led her to her seat and helped her get settled. That suited her fine.

“Thank you…” Richelle murmured quietly, giving the attendant a soft smile while trying to find a name tag.

“Joanna,” the attendant finished, smiling warmly.

“Richelle,” she said.

“It looked like you needed some help.”

“I did,” Richelle admitted. “I don’t do much traveling…he seemed fine at first, but then…well, then he…and I didn’t know how to tell him…”

Joanna patted Richelle’s hand and gave her a reassuring smile.

“At least now, you can try and get some rest without being harassed.”

Joanna reached into the overhead to pull down a blanket and pillow.

Handing them to Richelle, she flipped the overhead light switch off while Richelle settled back in her seat, unfolding the blanket on her lap.

“Thank you again, Joanna,” she said as the attendant went back to her duties. Placing the pillow behind her head and tucking the blanket under her chin, she settled into her seat, the pounding in her head subsiding to merely a dull ache. She closed her eyes, trying to relax as she blocked out the murmuring white noise of those around her.
This is why I liked living alone
in the mountains,
she thought wretchedly. She didn’t know what to expect when she returned to her mountain home after so long. Duncan was gone.

She wouldn’t be returning home at all except for the notification of a trust fund Duncan had left for her. She could collect it. Everything from her childhood days, such as they were, had long been left behind. All she had left from that time were memories, stretching back to the death of her mother.

Memories of Duncan tucking her in at night and telling her stories about a magical race called the Immortals.

Memories of spending her time walking in the mountains, sitting in the meadow with her studies, and conversing with her animal friends.

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37

And memories of a dark and handsome man who took her to Duncan the night her mother died. Her Guardian.

As a child, when she felt scared or alone, she would wish her Guardian would come and protect her. But he never came. Only a strange and sad silver-gray wolf would come. And those feelings would disappear. She would try to speak with her wolf, reach out and try to touch his mind, but they never communicated. He was a blank slate. But he was a true companion, and she spent much of her time in his company. And then he was gone, probably poached by some hunter.

She never saw him again except in her dreams. He would come to her almost every night in her dreams. He never interacted with her—he just stood there, watching her.

Those dreams stopped when she left Iron Mountain to attend the University of Florida’s veterinary program. Now, many years later having been given the opportunity to return home, she accepted. She just hoped it wasn’t a mistake.

* * * *

Valya exploded from his balcony, bursting into the evening sky and spreading his arms wide, his chest expanding as he inhaled the sweetness of the night air.

There was power he could feel that wouldn’t allow him to stay

motionless or silent, blending in with the night as stealthily as a panther lies in wait for his prey. The commanding force compelled him to shriek into the night, expelling his energy in search of…in search of something. But he wasn’t quite sure for what. He had only felt this way once before…just once.

His huge body stilled, his figure illuminated against the golden hue of the full moon. He rose to ride the night winds, carrying him higher into the night sky, where he could reach out and touch the stars as they appeared. He stretched his arms out, his fingertips opening to accept the celestial blessings into his grasp. There had only been one other time in all the centuries he had walked the earth when he had felt this way…and his heart sang with the joy of the thought.

She had returned.

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Mia Bailey

Richelle.

He could feel her presence as surely as he could feel the night breeze caressing his face as tenderly as a lover. As surely as the fading colors began to regain their vivid hues after the ten long years he had searched for her, he knew she was coming. He closed his eyes and opened his consciousness, seeking the spark of life and light that was uniquely her. He needed to find her.

He needed her.

He wanted her.

So much time had gone by. So many nights he hunted the streets searching for some clue of where she might be. And then he would return to his lair, to lie alone, his dreams filled with images of his touching her, kissing her, making love with her only to awaken to another night, abandoned and alone, to fulfill his duty as Guardian. He roamed the deserted streets except for those he encountered with evil on their minds.

His life was empty without her soul touching his. The joy he had found was suddenly taken from him. Despondent without his life mate to light the way through a gray and emotionless world, he contemplated ending his wretched existence.

But then a glimmer of hope would shine through the darkness. She was alive somewhere. If he faced the dawn, she would be left alone to face the same empty, desolate, lonely world. She would be alone to face the demons of her world, and of his. She would have no Guardian to save her from the old priest or the Evil One.

For her…Richelle…he went on, searching and praying to the Gods he’d find her and bring her home.

And now she had returned.

Finally, he would claim her as his mate.

And he made a solemn vow to the Moon Goddess as he reached out into the night to touch Richelle’s essence, to find her.
Never, never again will we
be apart. She is the heart that will mend my broken soul. She is my better
half. She holds the best part of me. And I will never let her go again.

* * * *

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39

Richelle didn’t get much sleep. During the long flight, she was awakened several times by the unspoken thoughts of the other travelers.

They didn’t mean to wake her with their innocent thoughts. They weren’t even aware that she heard their silent musings she tried to block unsuccessfully from her mind. She missed her quiet home.

She had lived alone in a quiet retirement community in Florida while she finished her college education. She tried living on campus for a short time, trying to meet people her own age, but it was no use. She couldn’t shut their thoughts out of her mind, and their immature, almost adolescent thoughts and feelings bordered on pain. She stayed as long as she could but found peace of mind in the friendship she had with an elderly woman, Alma Douglas.

She reminded Richelle so much of Duncan—his spirit, his joy, his humor—it was as if it had all come back to life for her. She had met Alma strictly by chance at a grocery store and immediately felt at ease with her.

They spoke for hours, going to a local diner for some coffee. After she had listened to Richelle talk about how difficult it was for her to live on campus, she offered her a room in her own home. Richelle had no reservations about accepting the generous offer and moved in the next day with her meager possessions.

Alma was sent by the Goddess,
Richelle surmised when three days later the police contacted her about Duncan’s death. Having been raised in the Wicca faith, she strongly believed in Karma, destiny. She was destined to lose Duncan just as Alma was sent to stand beside her at her time of loss.

And she felt the loss of Duncan keenly, even more so than the death of her mother.

She was so young when she lost her mother that she held only vague memories of their time together. It was Duncan who had raised her and loved her and what did she do? She left him alone. She could have gone to a college near their mountain home. She could have gone to any college in Michigan. But she left. No, that wasn’t quite true—she ran away.

She had earned several scholarships for college, including one in Florida. She could have stayed in Michigan. She had earned enough funding that she could have stayed and attended Northern. She could have completed her degree in veterinary medicine at Michigan State. But more and more she

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Mia Bailey

began feeling uneasy and unnerved, like an animal being hunted, alert to every sound, every smell.

And then there were the dreams.

She dreamed of the night her mother was murdered. She remembered the priest who had come after her, unrelenting and unwilling to let her go.

She remembered how her mother had sacrificed her life for hers and how her spirit had faded away as she held onto her. But mostly, she remembered…
him
.

He was such an imposing man, his massive size like a mountain. She remembered how he had lifted her from her mother and carried her in his arms. She remembered how safe she felt as he held her. And she remembered his eyes, so dark, intense, and soulful as if he had seen a thousand worlds and held the memory of each in his eyes.

And then that mysterious, massive, soulful stranger spoke to her. More than spoke to her. It seemed he was beckoning to her, drawing her to him.

He warned her to beware of the old priest and his followers. He crooned soft, soothing words to calm her fears.

The dream terrified her…and excited her.

When she tried to explain it to Duncan, he became fearful, turning white as the snow on the mountain itself. It was then that he tried to tell her of things he had tried to teach her before and failed. He spoke for the first time of the history of her family in the Carpathian Mountains and how they escaped to America. He spoke of the night that her mother had died as they tried to escape and hide from those who were seeking her family. He told her of cults and Vampyres, of witches…and Valya.

Valya. That was his name. Valya. Her Guardian.

She was a child when she clung to his neck as he carried her from her mother’s side. As she grew, she had visions of Valya coming to her. He told her of her mother, how she came to live with Duncan, and his people on the Carpathian Mountains. His voice was melodically hypnotic.

He enticed her.

He enthralled her.

He frightened her—it all frightened and overwhelmed her.

It was too much to take in at one time. She told Duncan of her visions.

When he began to speak of the Immortals and their search for life mates, she couldn’t bear any more. She ran out of the cabin into the mountains. She ran

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41

to the den of her friends, the wolves who were waiting for her. They consoled her with their mournful cries, and she stroked their soft fur until she fell asleep. She felt safe with them as she did when she came to live with Duncan or when Valya held her in his arms.

No, she wouldn’t think of Valya.

She would think of her animal friends, her dreams of going to college and being a veterinarian. When she returned home the next day, she packed her meager belongings, kissed Duncan on the cheek, and left. He didn’t argue, didn’t question her decision. He smiled sadly and hugged her.

“Always trust yer heart”
were the last words to her before she left for Florida. She never wrote him, never contacted him. She wrote several letters, but then something would stop her from mailing them. Innocuous things, like misplacing the letter, or getting waylaid by classes, or when Alma got sick.

It was as if the Goddess were intervening; the Goddess stopped her from contacting Duncan, sent her Alma to comfort her as she grieved for her poor dear Duncan, and again when she sent the officials to her when Alma had passed away.

It took the Detroit police two years to find her to tell her of Duncan’s death. The art of disappearing was as much ingrained into her being as breathing air. Moving after she completed her associate’s degree, it took the lawyer another two years to find her to deliver her the news of the inheritance that Duncan had left her, not that she needed it.

She had money. She had money from her mother’s family. Since Alma had no other relatives, she left all her money and possessions to Richelle.

Then the lawyer came to her with the news of an inheritance from Duncan.

She was grateful that her finances were so secure in off-shore accounts, although she felt melancholic about the circumstances behind her current stability.

Money she had. It was family she lacked and never did she feel it so intensely as when she boarded the plane to return home. She missed the mountains and she missed her wolves.

Finally, after so many years she was able to return home to help her beloved childhood companions. Doctor Frederic Samuels, eminent leader in veterinary medicine specializing in animal husbandry, was heading a field study on the timber wolves of the Upper Peninsula for the purpose of