by A. S. Green
“The rumors are true, aren’t they,” Niall said, and he didn’t sound like he was passing judgment. “You two are together.”
“They most certainly are not!” McNeely shouted.
“We most certainly are,” Rowan said. “I’m his anamchara, but even if I wasn’t, I’d want to be with him. A male who rises above his own desires to protect others, even those who don’t deserve it. A male who wants me as a partner, and not just as some pretty accessory. Who wouldn’t want that?”
“A daoine cannot be matched with a dog,” McNeely said, enunciating each word with crystal clarity so there was no mistaking him.
Rowan’s face went stony. “If you’re looking for your princess to be matched with nobility, Daddy, then look no further than a cú sídhe for there is no one more noble in my book. There is plenty of hate to go around,” she said, repeating Branna’s words from the council meeting. “But I won’t play that game. I know what kind of future I want, and one with him is the only one worth living.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
DECLAN
Declan MacConall sat on the edge of his bed, totally naked but completely warm. For a second, he thought he could hear the strains of his mother’s piano as she played it in the music room below, but then realized the sound was just a combination of water flowing, the fire crackling in his fireplace, and his own overly active imagination.
He stared at the fire, mesmerized by the flickering light and grateful for its distraction. Two things were bothering him. The first was something Meghan had said when she came to tell them the daoine were being used as cú sídhe bait. She’d recounted her aunt saying: “Brother Peadar’s right.” It was a name Declan had heard twice before. Once in the clearing with Rowan when they’d encountered the two Black Castle. The second time from Branna. He’d have to talk to the púca. She needed to know.
The second thing that was bothering him was his own impatience. He’d been waiting a long time for Rowan to finish her shower and come out of the bathroom. She’d turned off the water several minutes ago, and he wanted her in his arms.
But he wouldn’t rush her. She’d made the decision to come home with him, and he didn’t want to do anything that would intimidate her, or make her regret it.
Anything intimidating like sitting here buck naked with a raging hard on? Declan glamoured on a pair of sweats.
There was a click of a latch, and he looked up to see Rowan exit the bathroom on a cloud of humid air. His nose filled with the scent of strawberry shampoo, then with her own quintessential scent, which—just as always—made his head roar with the sound of rushing wind.
A soft smile played across her lips. Her wet hair was tied up in a knot, and her lush body was draped enticingly in that silky nightie Declan loved so much.
Rowan came to him, never taking her eyes from his. A nervous energy rushed through him as his cock swelled and he lost control of the glamour, the sweatpants fading away.
She stood between his knees, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her breasts were right there. Inches from his lips. Ready for tasting. He pulled the neckline of her nightie open and, sweet Danu, she tasted amazing.
Her head fell back as he licked and sucked, not wanting to miss an inch of her. He noticed how her thighs pressed and shifted, and he knew his mouth was driving her crazy. It was only fair. She’d had him on the edge of sanity for years.
He reached around with one hand, cupped her firm ass and pulled her in even closer, now just resting his cheek against her breast, holding her tight, reveling in this moment where he knew she was truly, truly his.
“Is this real?” she asked, giving voice to his own thoughts.
“It’s real,” he said. His breath must have tickled her skin, because she shuddered, and he got his first whiff of the heady scent that pooled between her legs.
“I want this forever, Declan.”
“Forever may only be one night.” He didn’t mean to sound fatalistic, or cynical, or even morbid like he might have meant those words in the past. But it was still the unavoidable truth. Tomorrow wasn’t promised to any of them. But that fact didn’t matter anymore, because it no longer ruled his choices.
He looked up at her and smiled, slipping his hand between her thighs and feeling her slippery and ready. “So we better make it count, princess.”
Rowan glanced down at Declan’s engorged shaft, and if he wasn’t hard before, the hungry look on her face finished him off. Her gaze flicked up to his face. “If you didn’t pick up on tonight’s badassery, I’ve never really been much of a princess.”
“You’ll always be a princess to me.”
Rowan dropped to her knees in front of him. She gave the head of his cock a tentative lick, then took the whole thing in her mouth. Declan hissed air through his teeth and curled his fingers into the sheets.
This wasn’t happening. He couldn’t believe this was happening. Never in a million years did he think— But then he wasn’t able to think at all. Her hot, wet tongue was inexperienced but a natural talent, and she soon had him—a cú sídhe—whimpering and groaning with so much pleasure this night was going to be over before it began.
Committing what had to be some kind of sacrilege, he slid his hands under her arms and pulled her off of him. She stood, letting her hard nipples graze against his chest as she did.
Declan reached up and slipped one of the straps of her nightie down her shoulder, then he did the same on the other side. The silk fell from her body like the shedding of a skin, and all of Danu’s blessings stood before him, beautifully on display.
“Fuck me.” This female. “So fucking beautiful.”
“Show me how beautiful, Declan.”
He didn’t need to be told twice. In fact, Rowan gasped at how quickly he moved. In half a second he had her pressed against the wall, and he dropped to his knees in front of her, venerating her like the princess she was.
All he wanted was to taste her again, to drink her in. Declan looked up. Her creamy breasts were heaving. Her eyes were locked with his, waiting to see what he had planned for her. He spread her folds open and—damn!
“Are ye always going to get this wet?” He stroked his finger slowly through her folds, loving the slippery goodness of her tight opening.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her words came out as barely more than a whisper. “With you? I’m going to go with a yes.”
He dragged the moisture up to her clit and slowly circled. She arched her back against the wall, responding to his touch. Declan kissed her inner thigh, inhaling deeply, and the scent pulled a feral growl out of him that had nothing to do with his hound.
“Looks like I’m trading one addiction for another after all,” he murmured against her soft skin.
Rowan started to laugh, but the sound was replaced by a ragged gasp when Declan sucked at her sensitive bud and flicked his tongue against it. Her back bowed and her hips bucked—spurring him on—and he licked, tasted, and fucked his anamchara with his tongue. He devoured her. Not wanting to give up, even when her fingers scraped at his scalp and she cried out saying she couldn’t take it anymore.
“Don’t give up yet, love,” he coaxed, looking up at her. “I want ye to come on my tongue.”
Her eyelids fluttered. One of her hands flattened against the wall, and her fingernails scratched at its surface. She was on the edge, and the sight of her was sheer beauty.
His tongue found her clit again. It was swollen under her hood, and he circled it once while his hands dug into her thighs. She groaned, and he drew out her pleasure. It was as much for him as it was for her, and the scent of her in his nose—as it had been for two years running—had his cock dripping right where he knelt.
Rowan was panting now, clawing at his shoulders. Her whole body trembled, and her right hand found the back of his head and held him to her, as if he’d ever want to leave this sweetness.
“Come for me, love. Don’t hold back. Do it.”
And she did. She scr
eamed his name as her release shattered through her body. Her hips jerked against his mouth, then her knees buckled. It was all Declan could do to keep her upright while his own thoughts scattered at the intensity of it all.
When the last shudder left her body, Declan stood as she slumped against the wall. Then he lifted one of her legs and wrapped it around his hip, repeating the action with the other. “I’m not done with ye yet.”
Rowan hooked her ankles behind his back and reached down, gripping his cock and directing him into her slick, wet cunny. Even as drenched as she was, he could still feel her stretch over him, and he had to clench his teeth in ecstasy.
He laid her gently on the mattress, but he didn’t move inside of her. Not yet. He wanted to give her time to recover because—as soon as she was ready—he meant to make her come again. And again and again and again.
Rowan grinned at him once her breathing settled, and he took that as his signal. But she didn’t let him have control. She rolled him over, never losing an inch of him, and she sat up. Her breasts were beautiful. She was beautiful. And when she began to move, riding his cock in long languid glides, he closed his eyes.
He reveled in the strokes of her body, the way her muscles tightened and released. He wished it could go on forever, but he was getting close. So close.
She rose up again, moving higher until only the broad tip of his cock remained nestled in her tight, wet heat. She hovered above him, holding him there, not moving. She seemed to be waiting for something.
Declan opened his eyes, and when he did, she held his gaze while slowly sinking back down, letting him feel her along every inch of his cock.
“Fuck, yeah. So good.” The sweetest torture.
She leaned forward, and her fingers gripped his biceps like she was holding on for dear life.
Declan angled up, and she flinched when his cock stroked along the same spot that had made her come before. He pulled back, still wanting to make it last, but then he lost all control and slammed into her, this time right up to the hilt. “Fuck!”
“Yes!” She rolled them again, and he rose up over her, holding his weight in his hands, his whole body trembling. She stretched her arms up over her head and lifted her hips, digging her heels into his ass. “Fuck me, Declan. Make me yours.”
All bets were off now. He held her wrists together in one of his hands. He anchored her hips to the mattress with his other hand, holding her still so she could feel the full force of his pounding. Her knees squeezed his sides, putting pressure on his wound, but he was oblivious to the pain. He was incapable of feeling anything except the sweet sensation of her inner muscles spasming and drawing him deeper, deeper into her body.
Declan palmed her breast, rolled the hard little nipple each time he filled her. Her juices spilled out over his balls. Her obvious pleasure sent a blistering jolt of electricity right up his spine as her muscles tightened again.
“Declan!”
“Don’t hold back. Feel it. Feel me.”
“Oh! Oh! I’m going to come again. How?” She cried out as her orgasm ripped through her. Her tight cunny convulsed around his cock, and he picked up his pace, slamming into her, moving her up the mattress with each thrust until she had to press one palm against the headboard to keep from going through the wall.
Her nails scraped down his back to his ass, and his heavy balls pulled up. The more he worked, the longer her orgasm pulsed on. It wouldn’t fucking stop.
Declan had never felt anything like it. Her aftershocks continued to pulse around him as he pushed up on his arms and shot into her, over and over, filling her with his seed, until he shuddered and collapsed onto her sweat-slicked body.
For a while, he thought he was dead. Was this Tír na nÓg? But then he heard his own hammering heart and the feel of Rowan’s fingers raking gently against his scalp.
She lifted her hips, and he rolled his weight off her. She moved with him, snuggling into his side with her arm draped over his chest. Without a word, her breathing slowed and grew heavy until, after only a few moments, she was sound asleep.
“I love you,” Declan whispered, wishing he’d said it before.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back.
He stifled a laugh, but not the smile that slowly spread across his face, as the future opened before him as bright and beautiful as the dawn. And then he, too, drifted effortlessly to sleep.
* * *
Declan woke the next morning with Rowan curled into his side, their arms tangled and hands laced as if they’d tried to knit themselves together in their sleep.
“It’s morning,” he said, sounding somewhat amazed.
Rowan turned her head and glanced toward the window where the first purply strains of morning light were visible on the horizon.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she said sleepily and curled her body deeper against his.
“The council meeting was yesterday morning.”
“I know,” she said, not catching his meaning.
Declan breathed out. “That has to have been the longest twenty-four hours of my life.”
Her hand moved down to gently touch the wound on his side. “I hate that you got hurt, but I’m glad I was able to help at least a little.”
“Yeah?” He’d been impressed by how brave she’d been, even if her Jerry-glamour was completely reckless, and he’d liked all her talk about being his partner. But he hoped Meghan wasn’t rubbing off on her too much.
Meghan tended to act first, and ask questions later. He hoped Rowan was more even tempered and cool headed—more like Aiden. Sometimes he thought they would all do better if they were a little more like Aiden.
“Yeah,” she said. “I knew conjuring more cú sídhe would create more chaos. I’d hoped the pádraigs would shoot at the imaginary ones instead of at you.”
“Wait. What?” Declan pulled his head back so he could see her face. Was she being serious?
Rowan continued, seemingly oblivious to his reaction. “I’d originally tried to conjure a dozen cú sídhe, but I was happy to come up with five.”
“What are ye saying? Those weren’t the Tofte cú sídhe?” They had to have been real. He’d smelled them. He’d looked in their eyes.
She smiled up at him. “The Black Castle thought they were seriously outnumbered, didn’t they? Didn’t you think it was strange they disappeared as soon as it was over?”
Declan closed his eyes and tried not to let his smile turn into an outright laugh. His body wasn’t having it. The harder he tried to suppress it, the more his stomach muscles revolted. Soon, his whole body was shaking while tears escaped the corners of his eyes. By Danu, this female. So amazing.
Rowan pushed back and got up on one elbow. “Declan MacConall, what is so goddamn funny?”
“You,” he said, or rather, managed to push out.
“Me? Why am I funny?”
Declan wiped his eyes. It took a couple tries before he was able to speak. “Sweetheart, two days ago… Two days ago ye could barely glamour a milkshake.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, sounding completely offended. “You said it was good!”
“I said it looked good.”
She punched his arm, and that brought back the body-wracking laugh. He needed to get this in check before she beat the crap out of him.
“But it even gave you a freeze headache,” she argued. “I saw you wince!”
Declan pulled her into his arms and held her tight, partly so she wouldn’t hit him again; partly because it helped him hold himself together. “I winced because even though it looked like a milkshake, it still tasted like shit.”
Rowan groaned. “You could have said something.”
He shook his head, still not quite believing what she was telling him. “One milkshake and that gives ye the confidence—the bollocks—to not only glamour yourself into a fully grown pádraig, but to conjure five cú sídhe out of thin air? Love, ye are too, too much.”
He felt her frown, then her lips brushed against his
chest as she said, “I had to get my father and Niall out of that cabin, and they were planning to trap you.”
“I know. Ye did amazing. But how on earth did ye pull it all off? Ye haven’t exactly been practicing.”
“I didn’t really think about pulling anything off. I just…I just wanted to help.”
Declan gave her a squeeze. “You just wanted to help. Love, you’ve helped in more ways than ye can ever know, and not just tonight. Without ye, I wouldn’t even be here.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Why not? It’s true.” He rolled them so he was on top. Her sweet thighs opened for him, and his hips fell through. The tip of his cock nestled itself against her warmth, like it already knew its way home. “If it’s all the same to you, though, I wouldn’t mind if ye took a break from helping for a while.”
“Is that right?” she asked, and her tone was teasing.
“Just relax,” he said, and he pressed into her folds, feeling her stretch over him. “You did plenty of work last night. This morning, I’ve got it on my own.”
Rowan let out a low groan of pleasure that Declan felt in his balls.
“Uh-uh,” she said. “Partners.” And as he prepared to thrust again, she raised her hips to meet him.
* * *
Want more of the MacConall brothers?
Continue reading for a sneak peak at
Hell Hound’s Curse
—the story of Aiden and Branna—
coming March 2019.
* * *
If you missed Hell Hound’s Revenge, the first in the Fae of the North Shore series, check it out here.
* * *
PREVIEW OF HELL HOUND’S CURSE
CHAPTER ONE
AIDEN
May
Aiden MacConall, the youngest of the living MacConall brothers, stood in their backyard, under the gnarled branches of a newly budded crabapple tree. He wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned his axe against the wood pile that was beginning to take shape. It was spring, but it was never too late to prepare for winter.