by Juno Blake
And now he was trying desperately not to touch her.
A shiver went through her body. The last time they had met, Ciaran had threatened to do terrible things to her while she slept. But now, he could barely look at her.
She should have been glad. Instead, something inside her twisted, as though it was about to break.
“Where everything went wrong?” she said slowly. “Do you mean… you believe me? That I didn’t turn up at your castle as some sort of, of pack-chaser?”
“I didn’t think it was possible,” Ciaran muttered to himself. He walked along the window, running his claws across the glass. “I thought you were a trick. A toy. Even when you told me you’d dreamed of the forest…” He glanced back at her. “Tell me. Tell me what happened. The truth. I’ll listen. As much as I can in this form.”
Lucy couldn’t bear the burning gold of his gaze. She dropped her eyes.
The truth? She was only just realizing what the truth was herself.
Her voice was soft, almost a whisper, as she began. “After what happened in the castle… it was like you awoke something inside me. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” She dropped her head onto her knees. “I shouldn’t have enjoyed it, but I did. And it terrified me. All of it. You—and my own reaction to you. I didn’t understand, but I think I do now.” She looked up at him. “It’s—my housemate, Sibby, called it werewolf fever. Is that right? And I… I caught it, after that night with you.”
“Half right.” Ciaran’s voice was harsh, but the expression on his face was surprisingly gentle. “You don’t have werewolf fever, Lucy.”
He left the window and knelt down beside the bed, muscles twitching. Lucy could almost taste his need to touch her—but he held back, as though the bed was an inviolable sanctuary.
Lucy frowned. “Then what the hell do you call what I’ve been through the last few months? All the dreams, the—the way my body reacts around werewolves…”
Ciaran chuckled bitterly. “Werewolves, Lucy? If that was true, you would have been on your knees begging for Delauncey and his friends to claim you. Or any of the other guests.”
“What are you saying?” Lucy bit her lip. Ciaran’s words stung. She wasn’t that sort of girl. She would never—
But that was his point, wasn’t it? She hadn’t felt the slightest hint of arousal for any of the other werewolves. The whole evening, she’d just been focused on her work. Until…
“Oh,” she breathed, her eyes widening with understanding.
Ciaran didn’t meet her eyes. “The fever lasts until something inside you matches with a particular werewolf… and then burns only for him,” he explained, his voice hoarse.
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. “I’ve only ever felt this way for you,” she whispered. Her voice sounded as though it was coming from a long way away. As though someone else was talking, while her mind was flung into the clouds. Could it be possible…?
“I’m… your mate?” she whispered.
She was so swept up in her thoughts, she almost missed Ciaran’s mouth twist with self-loathing.
Ciaran turned away. “Yes,” he said, his voice hollow. “You were an innocent, and I claimed you without a second thought. My mate.” His clawed fingers clutched at the edge of the mattress. “And I used you. Tormented you.”
“You…” Lucy shook her head. Visions of what he did to her at the castle raced through her mind. Torment? That was a good word for it. Terrifying, painful, incredible… torment.
Ciaran looked up at her, his face wracked with guilt. “I should never have done that to you.”
Lucy stared at him. She relaxed her grip on her knees, letting her legs stretch out. The ripped front of her dress slipped open, revealing a sliver of skin from her collarbone down to her navel.
“No,” she said, fighting to keep her voice level. “But you did. And you made me enjoy every moment of it.”
“Don’t say that!”
Ciaran’s voice was sharp, but Lucy had seen his eyes flare at her words. He stood up slowly. Lucy saw the tension in every muscle of his body as he towered above the bed, all seven feet of him trembling with barely-restrained power.
“There are… protocols for when a werewolf encounters their mate. Protocols which I have already broken.” He clenched his fists. Lucy winced as she imagined his claws biting into his palms. “Your belongings—everything you left at the castle—you’ll find them in the chest over there.” He nodded stiffly at a chest of drawers in the corner. “Your clothes, as well. I will explain the situation to Lord Blackpaw and ensure my… my indiscretion does not reflect badly on your professional reputation. He will understand.”
He turned away and walked to the door. “I free you, Lucy Abbotsford. My claim on you was cruelly won, and I grant you your freedom.”
His shoulders slumped as he turned the door handle. Lucy rolled onto her hands and knees. Her heart thudded in her chest, beating so intensely she felt as though it would choke her.
“Wait!” she cried out as Ciaran stepped through the door. “That’s it? After everything you did to me?”
CHAPTER TEN
Ciaran hesitated. His shoulders stiffened, and his claws bit into the edge of the door.
“Leave while you can, Lucy Abbotsford,” he growled, still staring straight ahead. “It may be your last chance to escape. When I’m in this form… I can only control myself so long. You remember what happened last time.”
“How could I forget?” Lucy replied, half-choking. “What you did to me—I’ll never forget it. I can’t. I thought I could run away, but it’s not working. And it’s not going to work, is it? You’ll always be there. In my dreams. Chasing me.”
Suddenly she was on her feet, closing the distance between her and Ciaran.
“You used me, and now all I want is more.”
Lucy’s breath caught in her throat. There it was. The truth.
She gulped, waiting for Ciaran’s response. He stood with one clawed hand on the doorframe. She saw him let out a deep breath.
“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he murmured, veiled violence in his words.
“Of course I do. I’ve already lived it. Only for twenty-four hours, but still… I was helpless to resist you. I was terrified. You were so domineering… I didn’t know whether you wanted to sleep with me, or kill me.”
“Not kill you,” Ciaran interjected. “Even before I knew—not kill you.”
“But you would have kept me, wouldn’t you? Kept me as your captive. Never listening to me. Never believing that I hadn’t come to you on purpose.”
On purpose? Is that what you’re doing now? Lucy’s legs shook. Do you even know what you’re doing?
“No. I would have… I would have been cruel,” Ciaran admitted. His jaw tensed. “I thought you meant to use me, and I would have used you in revenge. Without compassion or mercy.”
“What about now?”
Ciaran turned around, so slowly Lucy almost moaned with anticipation. When he looked at her, his golden eyes gleamed
“Now?” he said, his voice husky. “Now…” He shook his head, his mouth twisting. “A werewolf is meant to cherish his mate. Protect her. Worship her. And I want that, Lucy, but even more than that I want to make you scream.”
The gold in his eyes flared, narrowing to a thin band around his suddenly huge pupils. He let go of the door, leaving deep gouges in the wood, and stepped towards Lucy.
She trembled.
“But what do you want, Lucy? Tell me. Tell me. I used to think I was an honorable man, but we both know that isn’t true. Tell me the truth, though, and I will try to be one again.”
Lucy remembered the castle. The bruises that had marked her skin for weeks afterwards. The ache the wolf-man’s giant cock had left inside her, after Ciaran mercilessly used her.
He had taken her innocence that night. She knew she was never going to get it back.
But maybe she could get something else in its place.
“Pl
ease,” she breathed, barely able to form the word.
She’d expected Ciaran to leap onto her. Instead he moved slowly, a careful, controlled stalk.
She forced herself to stay still. Half of her wanted to melt back onto the bedsheets and wait for Ciaran to take her—and part of her wanted to push him, taunt him, drive him as wild as she had been behind the mansion at the pack-meet.
That had been the fully human Ciaran. This was the wolf-man. Stronger. More powerful. She’d already seen what he would do when she ran from him—what would happen if she played with him?
Her heart fluttered in her chest.
“Lucy.” Ciaran’s eyes blazed. His pupils were black holes, his irises only a thin golden ring around dark circles of lust. “There’s no going back from this, you know. No changing your mine. You will be mine. Forever.”
He was six feet away. Four. Two—
Lucy reached out and grabbed one torn lapel, pulling him to her as she collapsed back onto the edge of the bed. Ciaran fell to his knees in front of her with a groan and she stroked his face, running her fingers over his sharp cheekbones and thick, dark stubble.
For a moment, he was still. Then, fast as lightning, he grabbed hold of her wrist.
“Mine.”
He pushed her back onto the bed. Lucy’s breath was ragged. Ciaran stroked her body, his hands sliding along her ribs to her waist. The tips of his claws bit into her skin, tantalizingly gentle.
He kissed her and the touch of his lips was like electricity dancing just above her skin, waiting for the scrape of his teeth to strike. Lucy shivered with anticipation and he growled into her mouth.
She was still waiting for him to unleash his lust on her—but he moved slowly, gently, controlling every movement and driving her mad.
She pushed back, both hands on his shoulders. For a moment, he let her. They knelt together on the bed, her breasts pressing against his muscular chest, his tongue diving between her lips, her hands tangled in his hair.
Lucy moaned deep in her throat as Ciaran’s tongue flicked over her lower lip. She tightened her grip on him, trying to push him backwards. She wanted him, all of him, now.
Ciaran chuckled. Pushing him was like trying to push a tree over. Slowly, gently, he pulled her hands off his shoulders and, grasping her wrists, forced her back onto the mattress.
He pinned her hands above her head. He was as gentle—but unyielding. Unstoppable. His careful treatment of her only reminded Lucy of how much brute strength was in his body as he lowered himself onto her.
Lucy could feel his erection pressing against her stomach. Her mouth dropped open.
“Say it,” Ciaran urged her, his voice a purr that sent shivers up her spine. “Say it.”
“Please,” Lucy whimpered. “Take me. Make me yours.”
Ciaran forced her legs apart, pressing his cock against Lucy’s entrance. Lucy trembled. She’d taken Ciaran’s cock inside her twice the night before, in her mouth and pussy—but that was in his human form.
The last time the wolf-man had forced himself on her, he’d almost split her in two.
Her breath caught in her throat as Ciaran thrust slowly into her. The bulbous head of his cock was like a fist pushing forcing itself between her legs.
Lucy moaned as Ciaran eased himself inch by inch inside her. Every moment, she expected him to drop the gentle act and pound her mercilessly into the mattress—but it didn’t happen.
Lucy looked up into Ciaran’s face. His gaze was fixed on her, his golden eyes narrowed to gleaming slits. She could barely keep her own eyes from rolling up in her head, but she forced herself to look at him.
“You—oh God—” she gasped.
A wolfish smile spread across Ciaran’s face, making him look even more inhuman.
“What was that?” he asked innocently. “More?”
He jerked his hips, forcing another inch inside of her. Lucy whimpered. She couldn’t see him entering her—not like the first time—but her nerves were screaming as she felt every movement he made.
She knew from past experience that the wolf-man’s cock was as thick around as her fore-arm. And she knew she could take it.
But none of that stopped her body from trembling with trepidation as Ciaran pushed himself further—and further—and further inside her.
Her nether lips were stretched so tight around his shaft it was almost painful. She let out a small cry—and then her eyes shot open as he hit something deep inside her. Her legs spasmed. She was so filled, so overwhelmed, she didn’t know what the feeling was—pleasure? Pain?
She suddenly longed to close her legs, to stop and examine the sensation, but she was spread-eagled under Ciaran’s powerful body. He moaned and thrust in again.
“Please,” Lucy gasped, trying helplessly to pull herself away from his constant, slow assault, “Please, you can’t go any further—it—I—you’re too big!”
“You know that isn’t true,” Ciaran grunted. He shifted his weight, pressing down more firmly on her wrists. He thrust again, a sudden jerk, and stars burst in Lucy’s vision.
“Ohh…” Lucy moaned. “Yes…”
Through the haze she could just see Ciaran watching her. Another jerk of his hips and Lucy’s eyes rolled back in her head.
He’s playing with me, she realized. Testing—but he can’t go any deeper, there’s nowhere left—
“Oh, God!” she screamed as he gave one final thrust. Her core, already white-hot and soaking with terrified desire, seemed to melt and collapse before the crushing force of Ciaran’s cock. Lucy mewled hopelessly, pinned to the mattress.
“You strange creature,” Ciaran panted. He pressed his cheek against hers, whispering into her ear. “I thought being gentle with you would be kinder—but this is even harder on you than when I forced you, isn’t it?”
He held himself deep inside her. Lucy’s eyes fluttered open. The weight of Ciaran’s body on top of hers was nothing—all she could feel was the pressure of his cock inside her. And her own deep, throbbing need responding to its intrusion.
She met Ciaran’s eyes, her mouth dropping open—but no words came out.
“If it’s violence you need, sweetheart…” Ciaran’s voice was low and hot with menace. Lucy squeezed her eyes shut—and nodded.
His speed caught her by surprise. He pulled out of her so fast she gasped, as though she’d been winded. Before she could catch her breath he spun her around.
Lucy fell forward onto the mattress. Ciaran grasped her hips, his claws digging into her soft flesh, and his cock found her entrance before she even managed to push herself up on hands and knees. Lucy braced herself, but it made no difference.
Her whole body shuddered with pleasure as Ciaran buried his full length inside her in one fast, hard thrust. This time there was no warning when he pounded against her cervix. Lucy’s arms gave out and she lay helpless on the mattress as Ciaran held onto her hips, positioning her for his cock.
Lucy’s world narrowed down until nothing in the world existed except the sensations flooding her body. She moaned as Ciaran pounded into her, again and again. Her abused pussy walls complained at the relentless attack, but Ciaran’s force only made her wetter. He slid easily into her, his whole length, as her body welcomed his assault.
He struck her cervix again, and again, until dark spots appeared in Lucy’s vision. She timed her breaths for when he pulled out, knowing that each violent thrust would empty her lungs.
It was too much. Too much. Too big, too fast, too violent—
White light burst behind Lucy’s eyes and she screamed, her legs bucking helplessly around Ciaran’s muscular waist as she came. Her pussy squeezed even tighter around Ciaran’s monster cock, sending shockwaves of pleasure into her core.
Lucy was lying with one cheek pressed against the bed. Her eyes had rolled back as she orgasmed, but now her eyelashes fluttered. She wanted to look at Ciaran.
She forced her gaze sideways, back up her trembling body to where Ciaran loomed over he
r. The muscles in his chest and arms flexed as he pounded into her. Now that the waves of Lucy’s orgasm were receding she started to notice other sensations. The sharp pain of his claws cutting into her skin. The wetness trickling down her thighs. The sheer strength of her lover, as he pulled her back and forth like a ragdoll.
She wanted him so much she could hardly breathe. Even now, in the wake of an orgasm so powerful it left her limp and weak as a kitten, she wanted him to use her. The fierce, lust-filled expression in his eyes made her heart glow.
Ciaran met her gaze. She locked eyes with him, letting herself be drawn into that golden blaze. She knew her own eyes were hooded with sated pleasure, her lips still open, her breath coming as panting gasps with every thrust.
Suddenly Ciaran’s hands tightened around her waist, his claws cutting deep. Lucy cried out, arching her back as the wolf-man’s cock twitched violently inside her.
He came with a roar of triumph, filling her with what felt like gallons of hot seed. Lucy moaned shamelessly, clutching weakly at the sheets as Ciaran emptied himself into her body.
The muscular lines of Ciaran’s shoulders relaxed as he stared down at her. He grabbed her legs and twisted her around, still impaled on his cock, until she was lying on her back below him. His eyes roamed up her body, from the wet stains on her thighs and belly, to the marks around her waist, up to her heaving chest.
He lowered himself over her, his weight crushing her into the mattress. Lucy whimpered.
“Feeling any regrets, sweetheart?” he murmured. His voice was low, an animal growl.
“No,” she said without thinking, and was surprised to realize it was the truth.
“No?” Ciaran nuzzled her breast, his teeth barely grazing her skin. Lucy gasped as he moved up to her neck. Her pulse quickened, beating against the razor-sharp fang that hovered over it. Ciaran closed his mouth, gently, letting his teeth slide over her delicate skin but not biting hard enough to draw blood. “You’ve given me more than I ever believed possible, Lucy, dearest Lucy…”