Beneath a Midnight Moon - By Amanda Ashley Page 0,77

cold stone floor and go to sleep. He’d been on his feet for two days, unable to sit down, unable to do more than shift from one leg to the other because of the chains that bound him to the wall.

Two days, and he’d had nothing to eat or drink.

Two days, and the wound in his thigh throbbed incessantly, making it hard to think coherently.

Renick took a step forward. “I would see the wolf, Hardane.”

For a moment, Hardane stared at the Interrogator and then, as easily as he drew breath, he transformed into the wolf, his gaze resting on the face of the woman who stood in the shadows.

A gasp rose in Selene’s throat. Like all Mouldour-ians, she was familiar with the tales of Wolffan shape shifting, but she had always assumed they were no more than that, gruesome fables told to pass the time. She felt suddenly ill as she watched the transformation until all trace of Hardane was gone and a huge black wolf stood in his place.

Teeth drawn back in a snarl, the wolf sprang forward. Unmindful of the wound in its hind leg, it threw itself against the bars. Selene screamed as a froth of saliva sprayed across her face.

“He can’t hurt you,” Renick said with a sneer.

Selene nodded. Reason told her she had nothing to fear. The wolf couldn’t break the bars. It couldn’t escape from the cell. But knowing that such a thing was impossible could not stifle the primal fear that pounded in her heart, nor could she repress a shudder as she stared into the animal’s cunning gray eyes.

He was bigger than an ordinary wolf, more frightening than anything she had ever seen in her life. He paced the cell, and she watched him in horrified fascination. Despite the ugly wound in one hind leg, the beast paced back and forth, its movements graceful, defiant. And when she looked into its eyes, eyes as gray as the clouds before a storm, she saw Hardane staring back at her.

“Make him change back,” she urged. Unable to free her gaze from that of the wolf, she grabbed the Interrogator by the shoulder and shook him. “Make him change!” she cried, her voice rising hysterically. “Now!”

“Do as she says,” Renick ordered brusquely.

With a low whine, the wolf shook itself. And then, his gaze fixed on Selene, the wolf took on human form once again.

“Do you still want to rule at my side?” Hardane asked disdainfully. “Do you still want to share my bed, bear my children?”

Shaking her head, Selene took a step backward, repulsed by the very suggestion. And then, knowing she was going to be violently ill, she turned on her heel and ran down the corridor.

With a snap of his fingers, Renick summoned the guards. “Bring him food and water. He’ll be no good to me dead.”

Though his wounded thigh was paining him a great deal, Hardane continued to stand, his gaze fixed on the Interrogator’s face. He would not sit down, would not give in to the pain that made itself known with every beat of his heart, not while his enemy stood there, watching.

Minutes later, one of the guards returned with a tray of bread, a slab of smoked venison, a thick chunk of yellow cheese, and a small jug of wine, which he slid under the cell door.

Hardane’s mouth watered and his stomach rumbled loudly, but he made no move toward the tray.

The Interrogator grunted softly, admiring the man’s insolent pride in spite of himself.

“Very well, my Lord of Argone,” he said with a sneer, “I’ll leave you to dine in private. Enjoy your meal. You never know. It may be your last.”

Only when he was alone did Hardane sink down on the floor. For a moment, he sat there, shivering convulsively from the stress of the last few days, the last few minutes. He stared at the blood encrusted on his breeches, a silent prayer of thanks in his heart that the wound hadn’t festered.

And then, unable to help himself, he tore into the nearly raw venison, tearing the meat into strips like a wild thing. He devoured the bread in the same way. Only when he’d taken the edge from his hunger did he reach for the wine, and this he drank slowly, savoring each swallow. He ate the cheese last, relishing the tangy flavor.

With his hunger assuaged, his thoughts turned to Kylene, always Kylene. Head bowed, he prayed for her health, for the health of their unborn