by Clare Murray
For a moment he thought she wouldn’t reply. Then she bit her lip and the sharp smell of fear became tempered with her bewilderment. “You…you aren’t old and disgusting underneath.”
“Nay, Caitrin. I am Alpha, as I told ye.”
“I drank a potion. A kind of Sight potion. Iris said it would help me see the truth. I—I saw him after he kissed me—”
“Caitrin, lass.” He interrupted her half-hysterical babbling. Gently averting the sword, he went to her, took her in his arms.
She stood stiffly at first, quivering with residual terror. To calm her, he chanted poetry in her ear, speaking in the Gaelic he’d learned long ago. Gradually his warmth began to restore her and she rested her head against his chest, breathing more regularly. By the end of the third poem, she seemed to be soothed.
“Eagan, why haven’t they tried to follow us?”
“The fourth witchward,” he said succinctly.
She gasped. “You mean to say it will hold against them? Wait. Would it have held against you?”
“Aye.” He kept his face deadpan.
“You’re a canny one, MacCulloch.” She nipped his arm only half playfully.
He chuckled. “Ye could have hid from me, Caitrin, but ye would have missed out on this.”
Setting the sword aside, he sat down on the couch, pulling her onto his lap. He intended to kiss her just once. But her lips were so sweet, so yielding that he could hardly come up for air. She was intoxicating and he was rock hard again, wanting nothing more than to thrust inside her. Her warmth pressed so tantalizingly against his cock that he had to use every ounce of self-control not to take things further.
“Lass, ye need to make a decision soon.” His voice was harsh, grating.
“About us, you mean.” Blue eyes, half closed from his kiss, fixed upon him.
Eagan nodded sharply. “It seems strange to have to explain. My kind often instinctively know when they are ready to mate and settle down.”
“What if things work differently with me? What if I find I am unhappy?”
“Never heard of that happening. Even half-bloods mate for life.”
Caitrin looked away, mirroring his unease. She was less than half-blood, possessed Hunter attributes. He’d been looking for a pure werewolf female all this time, staking out different Packs only to find nobody truly meant for him. No one else had called to his body—and mind—with such relentless fierceness. No one but Caitrin.
When she shifted position atop him, he realized her arm was bleeding. There were grazes on her knees and hands as well, yet more hurt that Delaney had wrought. Immediately he deposited her on the couch.
“Where is your bathtub?” he demanded.
She gestured to a large copper pot hung on a nail in the kitchen. “You will have to draw water from the well.”
“I’m no’ afraid of going out there. Stay here,” he ordered as an afterthought.
Caitrin wanted to scream after him to come back. He strode outdoors, wielding buckets in each hand like weapons, as if daring his enemies to attack. White-lipped and nervous, Cait took up the sword.
Craning her neck, she peered out the window. If either the wizard or Delaney returned she would rush to his aid, no matter how that idea terrified her. With bated breath she watched as he drew several large bucketsful of water, his muscles flexing as he carried them back to the cottage.
She breathed again as he came past the witchward, unable to quite admit—even to herself—that she’d felt bereft without the werewolf’s presence.
“I will heat these by the fire while ye eat your soup, lass.” He raised his eyebrows at the sword in her hands but said nothing.
Eagan ladled out two bowls of soup as she sat at the kitchen table. Wordlessly she offered him the package Iris had given her and he sliced the bread, cheese and apples, feeding her the odd tidbit as he worked.
She let her tongue graze the pad of his index finger as he slipped her another morsel of cheese, watching his green eyes darken with lust. Yet she knew from the set of his shoulders that he wasn’t going to give in, no matter how much she teased, until her basic physical needs were fully taken care of.
Never mind that her body was screaming for his. She wanted him atop her, inside her, with an intensity that almost frightened her.
If she didn’t bond to him like he would to her, she was dooming him to a half life. Eagan had already lived so long without love. It wasn’t fair to play games with his emotions. He was right—she had to decide.
As for herself… It was spring now. She could make it through the summer and autumn with a bit of help from Iris during the harvest. But another winter here alone? Another winter spent avoiding hunting any supernatural creatures that traversed the area? The thought made her cringe in more ways than one.
She’d never embraced the idea of having a family of her own, perhaps because the thought had never occurred to her. Yet watching Eagan serve dinner and warm water for a bath stirred some long-dormant part of her mind.
After she finished eating, Eagan hauled the copper tub by the fire and filled it with steaming water. When he began to turn away, Caitrin shook her head.
“No,” she whispered. “You can watch.”
He looked at her for a long moment, eyes shining with complex emotion. “Ah, lass. Ye honor me.”
She could feel the intensity of his concentration as she unbuttoned her blouse and slipped the chemise over her head, letting the garments fall to the floor. Her nipples tightened immediately at the exposure to his red-hot gaze.
Before she could lose her nerve, she slid her trousers to her ankles and stepped out of them. Naked now, she was finally on equal footing with Eagan. Briefly she wondered what had happened to the kilt. Not that it mattered—with a body like his, Eagan could remain naked forever.
Self-consciously, Caitrin stepped into the tub. It was just large enough for her to sit comfortably, knees slightly bent. She submerged into water that barely came to her breasts, exhaling in pleasure. The warmth stung her grazes but soothed her muscles.
“Ye may need help washing,” Eagan announced huskily. Not wasting any time, he came to kneel next to her. “Would no’ want ye to strain any tender bits.”
She closed her eyes, tilting her head back as he poured water over her head, gently massaging soap into her hair. At one point he leaned close, inhaling deeply, as if trying to memorize her scent. Then he rinsed her shoulders and back, lingering carefully over any cuts and scrapes.
Caitrin almost wasn’t prepared for the shock of his touch on her breast. His chestnut hair brushed her shoulder as he bent to take one nipple into his hot mouth. Just when the flick of his tongue became unbearable, Eagan drew back, sluicing clean water across her body. Deprived of skin to skin contact, Caitrin bit back a cry of protest.
“Come, lass. The water is beginning to cool.”
Strong hands closed around her rib cage, lifting her to her feet. She shivered as her wet body met cool air. Eagan immediately wrapped her in a towel, pulling her against his warm body. She burrowed into him, relieved to be covered up again.
“Ye look so beautiful naked, Caitrin. Never try to hide your body from me.”
“I do not make it a habit to take off my clothes around men,” she grumbled into his shoulder.
He chuckled, his muscular chest shaking under her cheek. “Werewolves quickly accustom themselves to being naked around their Pack…but Brighid help whoever ogles the Alpha’s woman.”
Cait heard the unspoken question in his words. “I have made up my mind, MacCulloch. I want to stay with you.” The thought of him leaving was abruptly painful. She’d whiled away the winters since Da’s death, telling herself she would get used to the solitude. In reality she had become more isolated, only leaving the croft when absolutely necessary. Today’s visit to Iris had been her first social call for months.
Eagan’s grip tightened almost to the point of pain. “Do ye truly mean that, lass? It will mean accepting my bite. The first Turning may be painful,�
�� he warned.
“I am used to pain," she told him. “I think loneliness stings more than physical hurt.”
“Aye, lass. That it does.”
Eagan reached for a second, smaller towel, deftly wrapping it around her head. She made a small sound of protest at his vigorous toweling.
“I’ll no’ have ye running around in the cold with wet hair,” he said sternly.
“Running? Must werewolves chase their mates beforehand?”
His sound of amusement was somewhere between a laugh and a growl. “Do no’ run from me again, Caitrin.”
“After I saw what Delaney truly was, I thought you were…like him.”
“Would rather die than sell my soul to dark wizardry. I’m glad his scent is washed off your body.” He leaned down, scenting her deeply. “I want to fuck ye, Caitrin. I need to be close to ye tonight.”
Taking the towel from around her shoulders, Eagan laid it down in front of the fire. Light and shadow flickered across his nakedness, the firelight burnishing his chestnut hair to a deep copper. As if in a dream, Caitrin stepped forward.
Kneeling there, he skimmed his hands up her thighs, then pinned her hips still as his tongue tasted her. Cait gasped, one hand flying to the back of his head in an attempt to stave him off as he sought to delve further.
“MacCulloch!”
His only answer was a long, slow thrust of his tongue. Involuntarily she parted her legs further, grabbing his shoulder for support. Her legs wobbled as he continued to lick her. As if sensing her imbalance, he slid his hands further up, cupping her buttocks as he tilted her forward.
The pleasure was beyond what she’d ever experienced. She let out an involuntary moan, too lost in sensation to continue resisting what he offered. Through half-closed eyes she watched candlelight flickering across his skin, admiring the bulge of his muscles. Then she was incapable of rational thought, everything narrowing to this particular moment.
He drew her to the edge of orgasm, keeping her there until she was barely supporting her own weight. Just as she thought she was going to collapse, he eased her down onto the towel, his broad hands pinning her hips to his mouth.
“Come for me, Caitrin.”
He bent, seeking her again, driving her insane with his lips. Her hands returned to the back of his head—this time to keep him there. Seconds later, she heard herself half screaming with the intensity of release.
And he was there, his cock resting at her entrance as he tried to compose himself. Eagan was practically thrumming with restraint, biceps flexing as he held himself still. Why was he waiting?
“I want you now,” she whispered, bucking her hips to emphasize her point. “I’m not afraid of the pain.”
“Slowly, lass.” Eagan eased forward, pausing as he met resistance. “By Brighid, you’re tight.”
Inch by inch he continued until she was achingly full. His green eyes were equal parts triumphant and tender as he stared down at her. Wonderingly, she traced the line of hair leading from his chest past his bellybutton, pausing to linger on a silvered scar near his rib cage.
His breath rasped as she continued to stroke his skin. Without warning, he began to move. Slowly at first, then with quicker, surer thrusts as her virginity fully gave way. His mouth moved to tease her breasts, building her a second time. This time she welcomed the loss of control, throwing her head back as he kissed her everywhere.
Just before she peaked, Eagan’s teeth pierced her shoulder. Pain washed into pleasure as he thrust deep one last time, pulsing within her as she cried out in ecstasy.
Eagan inhaled, smelling himself all over her body. She was his. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t alone. Caitrin was by his side and always would be. The mark of his canines in her shoulder branded her as his mate.
He’d done it as gently as possible, shifting only his teeth as he’d bitten. He brushed away the light smear of blood, kissing the spot. She settled into his shoulder as he moved to lie beside her.
“You are too tall to fit in my bed, you know,” she said, yawning.
“I am no’ going to let ye sleep alone,” he warned. “No’ after what ye did earlier.”
They ended up in the larger guest bed. Caitrin, exhausted, watched as he draped himself around her. “Eagan?”
“Hmm?” Privately he was thrilled to hear his first name on her tongue. Finally a glimmer of deeper trust from his Huntress.
“I do not feel any different.” She ran a quizzical finger over his mark.
“I haven’t let ye walk yet.”
That startled a giggle out of her. He relished that rare sound. At the same time he couldn’t help worrying about whether his mark would Turn her. With so little werewolf blood, would the Huntress part of Caitrin override their new bond?
Resolving to put those thoughts aside for the night, Eagan wrapped his arms around Caitrin and closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him almost instantaneously.
Much later, he opened his eyes to see the first tendrils of dawn creeping into the cottage. His arms were empty—he raised his head abruptly, catching Caitrin in the act of sliding from bed. Several centuries of bleak solitude reared up, nearly choking him. No’ again. She could no’ be leaving!
Flashing him a guilty look, Caitrin gestured toward the chamber pot and his mingled terror and rage subsided, allowing him to breathe once more. Composing himself, Eagan rose, padding to the kitchen. Stomach growling, he lingered near the table, automatically peering out the window in case danger was approaching.
“Has it been long since you lived…normally?” Caitrin asked several minutes later. Clad in a white robe, she began rattling pots and pans.
“I lived out my first human lifetime in a castle near Inverness,” he replied, kneeling to poke up the fire. “Had to pretend to grow older, eventually fake my own death. After that I bounced from Pack to Pack, a few months here or there, until it was time to return to my castle to live as my own illegitimate grandson.”
Caitrin took a seat across from him as water boiled for the porridge. “Did you have any illegitimate offspring?”
“Nay, lass.” He resisted the urge to laugh at her stormy expression. “I thought I’d find my mate within the first few lifetimes.”
She reached out, lightly tracing the tip of his index finger. Her wordless sympathy and support was worth more to him than anything else. He continued his story, knowing she wanted to hear more.
“Eventually going back to Castle Lennox was impossible. By that time, most of my family was dead so I set out travelling down into England. Came back up here just before the Battle of Killiecrankie, hunting Loners like Delaney who were using the unrest to mask their own violence. By human standards I am wealthy, but money is no good if one can no’ spend it.”
Caitrin mulled that over. “That was before my time. Which side did Delaney fight for?”
Eagan shrugged. “Human kings do no’ matter to those such as Delaney. He would only have sought to be around death and destruction.”
“Why do werewolves turn Loner?” Caitrin rose, stirred oats into a pot. “Delaney seems different than the few werewolves Da killed.”
“He is different,” Eagan said grimly. “Loners sell their sanity for power. Killing gives them a rush, so they continue, growing worse all the time, until their own death. Long time ago, Loners were rare because their Pack sorted them out. Now Packs are too full o’ young males.”
“If Delaney is a Loner, would he have killed me right away?”
“Depends how far gone a Loner is. Heard tell of several who veered off the path then came back after stumbling upon the right mate.” Eagan shrugged. “Delaney sold his soul to that dark wizard. That’s what’s different about him, lass. He’s immortal.”
“In exchange for what?” Caitrin frowned, ladling oatmeal into bowls.
“I do no’ know.”
“Da said he hunted a dark witch once. She was using a selkie to draw power from. They evaded him for the better part of a year. One day he came u
pon the selkie, dead. The witch had used it up, drawing power to cover her tracks.”
“Could be this wizard is doing something similar with Delaney,” Eagan said. “Perhaps no’ quite the same. Delaney has aged but his body still has strength under the illusion.”
“Do you think the wizard is using him to absorb magical rebound? So he can work faster without having to rest and recover in between each dark spell?”
“Aye, that would make sense,” Eagan said slowly. Dark magic took a toll on those who used it. Every spell had a rebound—similar to the recoil of a gun—that affected those who chose to cast it. Dark spells, those that perverted the natural course of life, had the most effect. Eagan frowned. Those tattoos holding Delaney together…
Evidently, Caitrin had come to the same conclusion. She sat down across from him, her wee face scrunched in thought. “What if those runes tattooed on Delaney’s body are able to absorb negative magic energy?”
“Aye, the runes he wears are powerful workings. It is entirely possible that the wizard uses Delaney as a kind of filter. If the wizard casts enough dark magic, having a hardy werewolf around would be useful.” He resisted the urge to smile at her. She was going to make a fine mate for an Alpha, with a mind like that.
“Dangerous for the tattooed werewolf,” Caitrin commented.
“Dangerous for all o’ Scotland.” Eagan stirred his porridge oats. “If word of this technique spreads, the entire world is at risk. Plenty o’ evil witches and wizards on the Continent. The werelions and bears are populous these days and there are wolf Packs across the sea as well.”
Despite their grim conversation, he watched her eat her porridge with a sense of wonder—and relief. She was his now. Protected. Cherished. If he had to run all the way to the ruins of Castle Lennox with her draped across his shoulders to keep her safe, he would do just that.
“What do you think Delaney gets out of the deal?”
“Immortality is a power in its own right. When I spoke with him a century ago he was jealous of all Alphas. He wanted a long lifespan, a mate, a Pack of his own. Last I heard, he’d challenged his own Alpha and was thrown out to fend for himself.”