Falling for the Enemy Who Tried to Take Someone's Mate

Episode 3

Vincent awoke to bright light glaring into his eyes. He cursed roughly and tried to roll over. Agonizing pain shot up his arm at the movement and he stiffened. Opening his eyes he blinked against the sunlight pouring in through an open window.

He was in a small cottage, with stone walls and dark wood beams. Frowning he took in the unfamiliar surroundings. The cottage was warm, the smell of lavender and honeysuckle hanging lightly in the air. He supposed it would be considered charming, if it wasn't for all the clutter and junk piled over the floor and furniture.

A soft sigh sounded next to him. Tensing he glanced down and glowered. There was a small woman sleeping in a chair beside him. She was hunched over, her arms crossed over the side of the bed with her head resting on top.

Vincent sneered at the girl. She appeared weak and feeble, neither traits he found desirable. She was a tiny thing; he doubted she would reach past his chest standing upright. Her body was slim, with surprisingly wide hips and a narrow waist. A thick strand of hair covered her face. It was light blonde, cascading down her back, nearly to the floor and braided in places.

With a scowl he reached over and lifted the offending lock of hair. He inspected her features with a mixture of boredom and slight disdain. She had a heart-shaped face, with soft lips. Freckles dotted lightly across her pink cheeks and over a small petite nose. He supposed she would be considered pretty, if not for the horridly thick round glasses lying askew on her nose.

The girl suddenly stiffened, big silver eyes blinking open behind her glasses. She stared at him for half a second before letting out a small yelp of surprise, jumping back in her chair so hard it fell over backwards, sending the small woman rolling in a heap of skirts onto the floor.

Vincent raised a brow, torn between laughing and groaning.

"You startled me." She struggled back to her feet, blushing brightly as she wiped at her plain white dress. It was a nice enough dress, Vincent supposed. Cinching just under her breasts, which were fuller than he'd expected for such a tiny frame, before flaring out around her waist.

He lowered his gaze, following her skirts down to her bare feet.

"Are you alright?" she asked softly, rushing over to him. Her scent struck him and he growled, stopping the girl in her tracks. It was divine, making his head swim.

F*ck!

His gaze shot back up to her face as he glared at her. She s*ck*d in a breath, standing up straighter and swallowing nervously.

So the girl was timid. His wolf stirred. It had been so long since he'd felt its presence Vincent almost let it, but thought better of it and forced it down. As a dominant werewolf he was preternaturally attracted to submissive females. It was wholly irritating.

"Who the hell are you and how did I get here?" he demanded roughly, his voice cracking slightly from disuse.

She flinched and glanced around nervously. "Uh...I...you..." she stammered before falling silent.

"Listen, I don't mean to frighten you." He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back from his face. Vincent winced as his arm throbbed with pain from the movement. He stared down at his injured bicep, cleanly bandaged. "Did you do this, girl?" he asked, gripping his forearm as he inspected her work.

The girl nodded, biting her lip.

"Surprised you didn't just cut it off," he murmured softly.

She cleared her throat, fidgeting with a ribbon on her dress. "It was pretty bad, but...you said you didn't want me to take it."

"I did?"

"I tried my best, but it may bring you discomfort for some time."

"I'm just glad to have it all." Regenerating a limb was nasty and time consuming. He sighed, leaning back against the headboard. Although he felt better than to be expected he was worn out and weak, both feelings were foreign to him and frustrating.

"Are you Legion?" she suddenly blurted with a squeak.

He raised a brow. Was that the issue, the girl was afraid of the Legion? "Aye, I was," he answered truthfully. She paled and for a moment he thought she might pass out. "I'm not going to harm you."

"How..." she stopped as her voice cracked, "how do I know that?"

Vincent frowned. Her fears were well founded, the Legion was pure evil, he'd seen that first hand. "I'm not with them anymore. You saved my life. I have no intention of harming you," he stated firmly.

She visibly relaxed, letting out a pent up breath.

"Is this your home?" It looked as if he'd been transported back to the eighteenth century. He doubted she even had electricity. It occurred him that he could very well be in another realm.

"Y-Yes," she stammered, propping the chair back up before sitting down. He couldn't help but notice how she continued to fidget nervously with her dress. He wanted to tell her to stop and be still, but held his tongue.

"Where is your mate?" he asked cautiously.

She blinked before blushing. "I don't have one."

Vincent frowned, his eyes drifting slowly over her body once more. She appeared in her early twenties, but he guessed she was far older, old enough for a mate.

"Lover?" he asked bluntly.

Her eyes went wide behind her glasses. "No..." she squeaked.

His wolf gave a soft growl at that. Her full t*ts begged for a male's tongue. His eyes dipped lower, his claws flexing as he imagined holding onto her curvy hips as he drove into her from behind.

His c*ck shot hard.

Well sh*t, half dead and he was rutting for this girl. What the hell.

Gritting his teeth he forced it back. "I see. How did I get here?" he asked, his tone harsher than he intended.

"My aunt brought you here," she replied softly.

He filtered through his memory, the irritatingly cocky woman he'd bargained with in the woods coming into mind. She'd worn a white dress. He hissed in a breath, there were beings of power well known for always wearing white. Surely he couldn't be that unlucky. "Your aunt?"

"Yes. She is...uh...a mystic. Levina the Ever Watchful," the girl confirmed his worst fears.

Sh*t! He'd bargained with that sorceress. There wasn't an immortal alive that didn't know of Levina and her wicked schemes. Things just got worse. And if this girl was related...

He took in her white dress and blonde locks with new clarity. And those silver eyes, how had he not seen it? "Are you a mystic too then?"

"Oh no..." She waved her hands in front of her and gave him a lop-sided smile. "My mother was. I'm a halfling. I can't do magic like spells or anything, but I'm really good with potions. That's why Levina brought you here, so I could heal you. I'm the best alchemist there is!"

It took him a minute to recover from the sight of her smiling so brightly. Any other male would consider it cute. "So you could heal me?"

She nodded, her soft blonde hair bouncing over her shoulders. "I gave you the best potion I had. I would have made a fortune." She gasped, slapping a hand over her mouth. "Sorry!"

"It's fine. I'll make sure to reimburse you."

"Oh, well," she cleared her throat, "thank you. Anyway, it was very potent." There was a touch of pride in her voice as she spoke. "But it will take some time to fully combat the shadowlock."

That's how she'd known he was Legion; she'd deduced what he'd been poisoned with. Smart girl. "No alchemist can cure shadowlock, not without the antidote."

"I can."

This girl... If Legion ever found out about her...Vincent had to bite back a snarl at that thought. "And Levina, will she be returning?"

She scratched her head and shrugged. "She said she would be back in a few months..."

"A few months?" he repeated with mild shock.

"It will take you that long at least to recover," she stated softly.

D*mn, d*mn, d*mn. "Where are we?"

"The Yukon."

The middle of f*ck*ng nowhere. He supposed that was a good thing. It was unlikely his enemies would find him here. And he had many. Rubbing a hand over his stomach he tried to organize his thoughts. He needed a plan.