"So what happened to them that Chris is the only one left?"
Sadness darkened his eyes and it made her heart ache for his grief. "The eldest son went down with several of his cousins and uncle as passengers on the Titanic. The influenza plague of 1918 killed three more and made two more sterile. The war took four more. Two died as children and one died in a hunting accident as a young man. The other two, Stephen and Craig, married. Stephen had one son and two daughters. The son died in World War II and one daughter of illness at age ten, the other in childbirth before the baby could be born."
Cassandra winced at his words and at the pain she heard in his voice. It was so obvious he had loved each of them dearly.
"Craig had four sons. One died in World War II, one as an infant, one in a car accident with his wife, and the other was Chris's grandfather."
"I'm sorry," she said, touching his arm in sympathy. No wonder he guarded Chris so zealously. "I'm amazed you let so many go to war."
He covered her hand with his. The look in his eyes told her how much he appreciated her touch. "Believe me, I tried to stop them. But there's only so much you can do to keep a stubborn man home. I finally understand how my father felt when Erik and I left home against his wishes."
"But you don't understand why your mother refused to welcome you home."
He paused mid-step at that. "How did you know that?"
"I..." She paused as she realized what she had just done. "I'm sorry. Every now and again I can read passing thoughts. I don't mean to and I have no control over it, it just happens."
His eyes were stormy again.
"You know." She tried again, hoping to comfort him a little. "Sometimes people say and do things in the heat of anger that they later regret. I'm sure your mother forgave you."
"No," he said, his voice low and deep. "I had forsaken the very things she had raised me to believe in. I doubt she ever got over it."
Cassandra pulled at the silver chain around his neck until she held his necklace in her hand. Just as in the dream, it held Thor's hammer and a small crucifix. "I don't think you have forsaken everything. Why else do you wear this?"
Wulf looked at her fingers that cradled his mother's cross and his uncle's talisman. Ancient relics he had worn for so long that he barely remembered their presence.
They were the past and she was his future. The dichotomy reached deep inside him. "It's to remind me that words spoken in anger can never be recalled."
"And yet you speak so often in anger."
He snorted. "Some faults can't be broken."
"Perhaps." She rose up on her tiptoes and kissed him, intending it as a friendly gesture.
Wulf growled at the taste of her as he pulled her close and held her tightly against his chest so that he could feel every inch of her feminine body.
How he wanted her. Wanted to tear her clothes off her and sate the burning ache in his loins that he felt every time she looked at him. It felt so good to have a woman who knew him.
One who remembered his name and whatever he told her.
It was priceless to him.
Cassandra moaned deep in her throat at the sensation of his lips on hers. At his fangs gently grazing her lips, his tongue spiking against hers.
She felt his muscles flexing under her hand, felt the coiled steel of a body that was finely honed and ruggedly dangerous.
He was so overwhelming. So fierce and yet strangely tender. A part of her didn't want to ever let go of him.
A part of her demanded that she do so.
Aching at the thought of it, she deepened their kiss, then pulled away reluctantly.
Wulf wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms again. He stared at her as his heart raced, his body burned. Why hadn't he found her as a human man?
What would it have mattered? She would still be an Apollite and he another species.
Theirs was an impossible relationship and yet they were joined together by a conniving goddess. He was captivated by Cassandra's spirit and passion. Her voice, her scent. Everything about her spoke to him.