by Erica Woods
Then he removed his finger and replace it with his tongue, thrusting in an age-old rhythm my body recognized, one that set fire to every nerve.
His tongue stayed inside me, licking and licking until I wondered if his goal was simply to taste as much of me as he could.
“So fucking sweet,” he groaned and plunged his tongue back into my core.
My hips jerked, my mouth opened on a long, loud wail.
Ruarc replaced his tongue with a thick finger and used his mouth to torture the hard pebble of flesh that made my legs shoot off the bed and my back arch as though I was a puppet on a taut, enrapturing string.
Gasps and moans tore out of my throat, making me hoarse with the pleasure I was voicing.
Ruarc sucked, and I cried out.
He licked, and I threw my head back and nearly wept.
He stroked and nibbled and ate, and I was dying, dying dying . . .
Tight. My stomach was so tight. Alive with excitement. Pleasure.
My legs started to shake, my nails dug into Ruarc’s skin, my lungs contracted. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, couldn’t give sound to the screams trapped deep inside.
I looked down at Ruarc, his face buried between my legs while his molten, silver eyes were fixed on me. The ferocious intent written on his face, the wildness burning in his eyes, the way his finger rubbed at the spot inside me, his mouth sucking on that hard nub, his claws digging into my hip, the savage growl vibrating against me . . .
Everything clenched. Deep. Hard. Unforgiving.
My heart stopped. Restarted. Raced. And finally my lungs filled with air.
I couldn’t stop the scream that ripped from somewhere deep within when Ruarc once again concentrated on the little piece of flesh between my legs. He sucked it into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth.
I convulsed, arms and legs shaking with bone-deep pleasure. It streamed through my body, pulsating out from the place Ruarc was still licking.
Everything went dark.
Once it was over, after I’d experienced every color in the rainbow like a physical caress, I collapsed against the mattress.
My eyes felt so heavy. I couldn’t open them. Couldn’t even blink when Ruarc’s powerful body landed next to me. Or when his arms came around me, pulling me into his warmth, cocooning me in safety as my sated body was pulled down into the dark abyss of sleep.
The last thing I heard was a deep, satisfied growl, “Mine.”
I slept.
54
HOPE
The first few minutes after I woke up from my pleasure-induced sleep were filled with blushes, stammers and general awkwardness.
By me, not by Ruarc.
Ruarc looked as comfortable as he could possibly be. One muscular arm supported his weight as he leaned over me, a lazy, self-satisfied smile peeling his lips back from his teeth.
My breath caught.
“Sleep well?” he asked in a rough, gravelly voice, sending shivers of remembered pleasure down my spine.
“No more running away,” he growled, chin lowered to his chest. Glaring.
My mouth dropped open. “But . . .” Then my jaw clenched as indignant anger flared to life. “You left me!”
Ruarc pounced. He caged me beneath him, lowering his head until our noses brushed. “Never!” he snarled.
“But you did! Y-you said you were d-done—” My voice broke.
A large hand cupped my chin. “Mo chridhe, my heart,” Ruarc muttered. He looked at me with such a tender expression it brought tears to my eyes. “Didn’t mean it like that. Could never be done with you.”
I sniffled. “Then what did you mean?”
He shook his head, a thousand emotions glittering in his eyes. “Meant the conversation. I was done with it. Too angry.” He stared down at me, trailing a finger after the tear that escaped. Frowned. “Never meant to hurt you. Not good with words.” His frown deepened, and then he leaned down and kissed away another stray tear. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m sorry too, Ruarc. I should have told you what you wanted to know. In fact . . .” I took a deep breath, steeling myself for what was to come. “I want to tell you everything. I trust you, Ruarc and I—”
He swooped down and captured me in a hard kiss. For a moment, he was all I could feel, his scent all I could smell, the possessive snarls spilling out of him all I could hear. And then his lips gentled, pressed to the corner of my mouth, my cheek, brushing across my eyelids.
When he pulled back and gazed down at me, his eyes shone with emotions I couldn’t read, but I found myself wishing with my whole heart that one of them was love. I wanted him to love me the way I loved him. Thoroughly, and without restraint.
I didn’t even know when I’d started loving him, but I knew it was a feeling that would never go away.
“All that I am is yours,” he whispered against my lips, a quiet intensity to his words.
As if pulled from the deepest recesses of my soul, the urge to answer in kind pushed at my throat. Only I didn’t know the correct words, so I settled for a simple, “And I’m yours.”
The beginning of something, the first flutters of a connection, clicked into place. A bond. Held together by a couple of fragile, silver threads. Instinctively, I knew they could become so much more; a bond that could never be broken.
Unless it was torn apart before it fully formed.
Ruarc squeezed his eyes closed. When he opened them again, the joy I saw made my heart skip a beat. He spun us around so I was on top and hugged me with arms that shook, fierce words of possession and affection tumbling from his lips.
I hugged him back as hard as I could and basked in his closeness. My Ruarc. My protector. My warrior. My love.
We lay like that for at least thirty minutes. The steady beat of his heart pulled me further down into his embrace. He couldn’t stop touching me, sweeping a palm from my shoulders down to the curve of my back, rubbing his nose against my neck, burying his hands in my hair.
And I touched him right back. He was so strong, my Ruarc. Hard all over. Strength in every line of his body, in his wide chest and broad shoulders, in the arms that held me so tightly, in the hands that touched me so gently.
I felt safe. Safe and loved.
But of course, he couldn’t love me until he knew who I really was.
I had to tell him about my past.
Sensing the moment had come, Ruarc cupped my face and brushed his thumb over my lips. Then he lay back down and waited.
“I . . . I don’t really know where to start,” I began, “but I guess it started when—”
Banging at the door interrupted my confession.
Ruarc glared at the sound, looking like he wanted nothing more than to finish the job he started last night when a piece of the door had splintered under the force of his anger. Grumbling under his breath, he made sure the blanket covered all of me and muttered a dark, “Come.”
Ash walked in. His long, black hair was pulled back, intricate braids following the lines of his temple all the way back to the leather throng holding the silky mass. One of the braids ended in a silver ring, another had a feather woven into the knot.
He looked like a warrior prepared for battle.
He cleared his throat, drawing my eyes to his face. Tension surrounded the grim line of his mouth and his eyes were shuttered. “We have a problem.”
Ruarc sat up and pulled me between his legs, careful to keep me covered. “What is it?”
“We have been called to the assembly.” Ash’s sharp gaze turned to me. “Hope is to join us.”
To be continued
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Acknowledgments
Are you still reading? If you are, then I dedicate my first acknowledgment to you, my reader. Without you, my story would be hidden away in some drawer (and on multiple hard drives because I’m an anxious stressmuffin—according to my hubs) never to see the light of day. I’d still write—for how could I stop?—but it would never be more than a hobby, something I’d do for myself in the few minutes I manage scrape together ever day. But with more people like you, the one who reads to the end, not wanting to miss a single word, I may one day be able to write full time and share with you all the stories waiting to be put to paper. So thank you, dear reader. From the bottom of my heart, thank you for reading my book.
And to the rest of people who made this book possible . . .
First, my mom. You instilled a love of reading in me from a very young age. You read hundreds of books to me, and when your voice grew hoarse and you couldn’t go on, you encouraged me to learn to read so that I wouldn’t have to wait for you to recover.
So I did.
Your unwavering love, support, and encouragement helped me get where I am today. Without you, I would not be an author, I would barely even be a person. So thank you for everything, and thank you for always telling me to follow my dreams.
Besse, I wish you were still here. I can never thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me, everything you’ve brought into my life. Not a day goes by where I don’t miss you.
Thank you Sarah, my best friend, my sister in all ways that counts. You introduced me to paranormal romance, and I’ve been hooked ever since. Thank you for being there for me, always, and for flying out this summer when grief kept me from reaching out. You’ll never know what it meant to me.
Serena and Reggie… I don’t know what to say other than thank you. You’re amazing, and I wouldn’t be here without your love and support and amazing ability to turn my full on sob-fest into laughter. I never get tired of talking to you guys, and you’re basically stuck with me for life. I’m a barnacle and you’ve been barnacled. Ericacled? Anyway, you’re both too talented for your own good and I can’t wait to see where this journey takes you both!
Penelope, you kicked my ass! Seriously, your (occasionally) snarky feedback and blunt advice made me a better writer (though probably not as good as you’d like). Your friendship has made me laugh more times than I can count, and though you often need a good slap (which I’m always happy to provide), you’re a great friend and an amazing writer! Can’t wait for your book to be done!
Maya, thank you for your friendship, laughs, the peens, and my first ever swag pack! You rock and your books rock too! Waiting quite impatiently for the next one to come out…
And my lovely betas…
Without you, this book would probably be a hot mess! Charlotte, Leanne R, Leopardwolf, Lori, Lesley, Katy K, Katy J, Kelly, Mikayla, Leanne A, and Hannah… Thank you! Not only did you help me improve my book, you helped me keep going when I felt like quitting. Your encouragement, friendship, and the way you rooted for me are all huge reasons this book made it off my harddrive and onto Amazon. Seriously, you guys are amazing and I couldn’t have done it without you!
Thank you to my cover artist, Ravenborn Design, for designing a cover I fell in love with, and for being patient, talented, and just an overall gem!
And Candice, you were the first to welcome me into the author world. You helped me start a group, you answered all my inane questions, and you were so kind and supportive and encouraging that, for the first time, I thought ‘I can do this’. Thank you for your support and friendship—you’ve made a difference.
Michelle at Rascon Revisions, thank you for answering all my questions and your help with a few of the more unruly scenes!
And last but never least, my husband. Thank you for your relentless support, your never-ending quest to take care of me and make sure I’m happy, for all the dinners you’ve cooked, all the love you’ve given me, all the massages, all the kisses and hugs and snuggles. And thank you for always thinking I’m the best, even when I’m clearly a lunatic, haha! Without you, this book would never have happened.
I love you.
About the Author
Erica Woods is an animal loving, coffee-addicted, chocoholic who lives in Norway with two fur babies of the purring variety and a hubs of the supporting, slightly growly variety.
When she’s not writing (which is seldom) she can be found clinging to her hubby like a koala bear (yes, she’s needy) with a book in one hand and some kind of snack (most likely chocolate) in the other.
Besides being crazy about animals and obsessed with all things romance, Erica likes to be near the ocean, draw, fantasize about life on foreign planets, and tease her hubby until he chases her around the house while she squeals.
Fun times.
Want to know more about Erica? Visit her website: Ericawoods.net or join her reader group: Into the Woods - An Erica Woods Reader Group
Glossary
Scottish Gaelic
A chuisle - The endearment has grown to mean my dear/my love. But it comes from mo chuisle which directly translated means “my pulse.” The thing that keeps my blood flowing through my veins, keeps me alive.
mo chridhe - my heart
m'eudail - my darling, my dear
Ojibwe/Ojibwa
Niijikiwenh - brother
Banajaanh - little bird/baby bird/fledgling
Fae
Lithbhár - directly translated it means ‘blodless’ - It’s a harsh insult among lycans and have evolved to mean someone who is the worst sort of coward.
Dè cháiní Bháan Mahír - Children of the white wolf