The Eye of the Wolf (9 page)

The servant nodded his head and
watched the Wolf move into the darkness, that same humor cutting through the
night and chilling the heart of the servant as the plan moved forward, beyond
the point of no return.

Mikayla
stepped into the Hall of Records after following the sounds of curses and
grunts through the Exhibit Hall. She couldn’t see anyone, but she could hear
swear words in four languages clearly from the back of the room. Dust motes
floated in the air everywhere. She swatted them away as she moved between the
rows of books. The voice grew louder and more emphatic, as did the vulgarities
spewing forth. Those vulgarities were followed by a large crash which were
followed by smaller thumps. It sounded like William had gotten an early start.

Mikayla
turned the corner of the last bookcase. She stopped in her tracks and could
only gawk at the sight before her. Then, her hand rose to her mouth to stifle
the giggle that had escaped.

Will
looked up from where he laid, sprawled on his back on the uneven ground of the
Hall of Records. His blond hair was filled with dust; there was dirt smeared
rather charmingly down his cheek. His khaki pants were streaked with dust,
dirt, and anything else he might have found in there. There was a rip in one of
the knees of his pants. His white button-down shirt was no longer white, but a
dingy off-white that screamed for some Tide to remove the damage he had done.
His eyes were closed, one hand rested on his chest, dirt beneath the
fingernails, while the other sat under an upended box that had spilled books
all over the floor of the back corner. Books and scrolls littered the floor.
Some were opened but upside down, others had landed on their spines and tipped
over. It looked like a whirlwind had raced down the bookcase in that corner and
thrown the entire inventory on the floor and on him.

Mikayla
swallowed her giggle and knelt down. Her first instinct was to poke him to see
if he was still alive. Instead, she leaned over and pressed two fingers to his
neck to check his pulse. His hand was fast and caught her wrist just as she
pulled away.

He
lazily opened his eyes and peered up at her. His eyes were veiled underneath
his long dark lashes, lashes most models would have murdered him for. “Worried
about me, luv?” His British accent washed over her in like a calm ocean wave
warming her, melting her. He pressed a quick kiss to her fingertips before she
could jerk her hand back.

She
stood up and brushed off her jeans. She refused to look at him, afraid her eyes
would linger on his deadly lips. She pushed her feelings back and regained her
composure. She was too practical of a person to fall for that foolish gesture.
Romance belonged in storybooks. Besides, she had work to do, but, oh, did he
have an effect on her.

Mikayla pushed that thought and
that warmth he had created out of her mind. “Of course not. I just wanted to
make sure I didn’t need to call an ambulance, or if necessary, the coroner. I
can’t have a dead body stinking up the place. I have to work here.” She
straightened and looked down her nose at him in her best school-teacher
imitation. She arched an eyebrow. “Luv.” She said it matter-factly with just a
hint of snide sarcasm that made him grin.

He
attempted to sit up and only groaned. Every muscle in his body hurt. He covered
his eyes with his hand and groaned again when she nudged him with her foot.
“Let me die in peace, Woman! Can’t you just let me die in peace.”

Mikayla
smirked. “Well, it serves you right.” She knelt down again and began lovingly
picking up the books he had so carelessly allowed to land on the floor. “What
were you doing in here, anyway?” She leaned over him to pick up more books. “It
is before eight o’clock.” She checked her watch. “In fact, it is only
seven-thirty. You are always ten to fifteen minutes late. What’s wrong with
you?”

Will
focused on her face as she leaned over him and her long hair trailed along his
face and neck. He reached up and tucked her hair behind her ear. He grinned.
She had the cutest freckles darting across her nose and cheeks. He hadn’t
noticed them before. He had never liked freckles on women before, but on her,
they were charming and added only to the character that he already found
entirely too endearing for his own good. He ran a finger down her nose before
she could jerk back in protest.

Mikayla
jumped back at the intimate gesture. Her eyes were wild and wide; fear,
frustration, annoyance, and perhaps a hint of mirth danced in her eyes. She
lost her balance from her precarious perch on her feet and landed with a thump
on her hip. She frowned and rubbed it with the hand that wasn’t full of ancient
texts. She said nothing, but again she refused to meet his eyes.

Will
sat up. He began to pick up books. “I was looking for a book that I thought
might be of help to you.” He looked around him at all of the books on the floor
and up at the empty wooden case. “I thought I had found it, but it was on the
very top of the top shelf.” He gestured with the book in his hand. Mikayla
followed his hand in the direction he was pointing and saw a slim red-covered
book jutting out from the top of the case. It looked like it might dive down on
her head at any moment. “I got a little carried away.”

Mikayla
raised an eye brow. “How carried away, is a little carried away.”

Will
ducked his head sheepishly. “I tried to climb the case. I guess I was a little
too heavy. The thing almost came down on top of me. As it was, that box is the
only thing that actually fell on my head.”

Mikayla
shook her head and stood. “Well, you certainly are determined.”

Will
stood and grinned at her. “I think I will take that as a compliment.”

Mikayla
murmured as he turned to shelve some of the books. “It wasn’t meant as one.”
When he turned quickly around with narrowed eyes, she flashed him a dazzling
smile that took his breath away.

She
shelved the books she had stacked. “Well, do you want to get that book or not?”

Will
looked up at that book that was a good foot above his six foot two inch reach
would allow. “I’ll have to get a chair or a ladder or something. I can’t reach
it.”

Mikayla
finished shelving the books in her hands and turned to him. “I can.”

Will
let out a loud guffaw, for certainly that was what it was. It echoed off the
stone walls and ceiling, cheerful and mocking at the same time. He looked her
up and down, taking in her five foot five petite frame. “You? And how do you
propose to do that?”

Mikayla
gestured impatiently for him to bend down. When he had done so, she clambered,
not so gracefully, onto his shoulders. “Now stand up.” Will did as he was
directed. Mikayla now was high above the top of the bookcase, able to see the
tops of the cases, but still not reach the high, cathedral ceiling. “You know,
they really should dust more in here.” She stated matter-factly as she reached
out to pick up the slim book. As she did, her eyes scanned the other treasures
that had sat upon the case for centuries, or at least since the last inventory,
which by all accounts had been 900 years before. Her eyes stopped on the only
book that she had seen that hadn’t had gilt lettering and gold-leaf pages. It
was simple. Brown leather bound the cover with leather ties holding it closed.

Mikayla gently closed her
fingers around the simple book. It was too simple to be a government record.
Her hand shook slightly as she untied the leather laces holding it closed.

“Luv, could you hurry it up a
bit? My shoulders are starting to ache, and I haven’t had breakfast yet! I’m
feeling a bit puckish, what with you sitting up there and all!” Will tipped his
head back as far as he could to see up. He saw a brown, leather cover. If he
turned his head, he saw the inside of her thigh, and that was just too
wonderful to contemplate, at least while he stomach was growling. Though it did
give rise to thoughts he had worked very hard over the last week to quell. He
had been reminded several times of his promises elsewhere, and of the duty that
he owed to his country and his family. Becoming involved with with Dr. Mikayla
Knight was not in his destiny. He had been raised with a destiny, reminded of
it daily, but at that moment, destiny was far away, and her smooth skin was
right there. He licked his lips and mentally shook that thought away. He was
starving, and he needed to get her back on her own feet.

Mikayla shifted the book aside
and frowned down at him. “You are so British!” She gently opened the book.
“Just keep your shirt on for a moment. I’m almost done.”

Will rolled his eyes and just
for the fun of it bounced her slightly to adjust her position. He was gratified
when one of her hands braced herself against his head, gratified that is until
she grabbed a fistful of hair and held on. He winced and held still. “What have
you got up there that is so bloody important?”

Mikayla’s eyes scanned the
pages. There was no illumination. There was no neat calligraphy. This was
simple handwriting, words that had dulled from black to brown as time passed.
It was written in French, but not formal. It was almost a conversation. Her
eyes widened. A diary! If her education was as good as she thought it was, she
had found a diary! Mikayla let out a squeak of pleasure.

Will reached up and grabbed the
book out of her hands. He looked up at her face shining in pleasure and
disbelief. Excitement was written in every feature. Even though he didn’t know
what she was grinning about, he found himself grinning back.

“Will, do you realize what that
is?” Her voice bubbled out, excitement enriching every word.

He didn’t know. In that moment,
he didn’t care. All he heard was her saying his name in her sing-song voice;
his nickname that only his grandmother called him rang through his ears.
Tenderness swept through him and he forgot everything except the look her azure
eyes as they shone down on him. Breathless he stared up at her, forgetting
everything from the need for food, to the books scattered around his feet.
Everything, except her.

Mikayla grinned down at him
like a child who had just received the best toy. “Will,” she patted his cheeks
lightly, “do you realize what that is?” She struggled to get down. Will bent
and allowed her to jump off. When he straightened, she snatched the book from
him again.

“Do you realize what this is?”

Will shook his head. The moment
passed and he began to get excited about whatever she was excited about. Her
animation was contagious. “Well, since you haven’t let me look at it, my answer
is going to have to be no.”

Mikayla hugged it to her chest.
“Will, it’s a diary.” She held it out to him. “Look, it’s the diary of King
Malachi.”

Will gingerly took it in his
hands and turned the pages. He read snippets here and snippets there. He looked
back at her and felt a grin spread across his features. She was right. “Well,
now we really have something to work with!”

Mikayla laughed and threw her
arms around him in a quick, carefree hug. Then, just as quickly as she was
there, she was gone, skipping up the aisle to the table at the front of the
Hall of Records, the diary clasped in her hands.

He laughed and followed at a
quick run. “Well, that is much better than the book of monasteries that once
called Amor home that I was looking for.”

Mikayla answered with a laugh
of delight. When he caught up with her, she was already seated in the chair
they had nicknamed Her Chair because she always sat in it. A pad of paper sat
next to her right hand and a pen was waiting for Will to pick it up and begin
taking notes. On the pad of paper, with its petals lush and dew-covered, was a
lavender rose. Its delicateness radiated from the paper. It was luxurious and
perfect, just beginning to open. Mikayla brushed a finger over the petals,
feeling the velvety softness caress her skin.

She smiled at Will as he pulled
his chair out from the table. She spoke not a word, but for Will it was enough
that she met his eyes for the briefest of moments. For the briefest of moments,
the wall that separated them, that cut off her emotions from him in her eyes,
fell. For the briefest of moments, he saw the stars, the moon, and the sun all
shining. Blinding. For the briefest of moments, he felt his path change and collide
suddenly, irrevocably, with hers, a path that wasn’t supposed to be, but that
could never be undone.

Will had been born to fate. He
believed strongly in fate, and its odd twists and turns that simple mortals
weren’t meant to understand, simply to accept. He knew at that moment, that
Mikayla was part of his fate, whether it was supposed to be or not. What that
fate was, he didn’t know. He just knew that her being there, with him, was no
accident. Somewhere along the way, it had been predetermined that their paths
would intersect briefly, giving one another a glimpse at a life neither could
ever have.

Then, just as suddenly as the
wall had fallen, it rose again. Mikayla looked away and opened the diary she
had discovered on top of the dust-covered bookshelf. Just like that, the wall
was back in place, and the path that Will had seen so clearly was gone,
replaced by a cold dark that he didn’t understand, but he knew had nothing to
do with his path.