As she panted, Shay’s hands tightened painfully, and he thrust deep and hard. He came with a low growl that changed to a croon of love as his forehead leaned on her back. “Tha gaol agam ort, little wolf.”
He rose and pulled her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her, he molded her against him. In his usual embrace, he fondled her ass as he kissed her thoroughly. With a pleased sigh, he passed her to Zeb.
After Zeb finished kissing her, he pushed her sweat-streaked hair off her forehead. His teeth flashed white in his dark face. “You look confused, little female.”
Who me? She shivered at the memory of paws on her furry shoulders, of the scent… “We were wolves. I mean, we made love and—”
As Shay nuzzled her neck, Zeb ran his knuckles over her cheek and said, “Under the Mother’s moon, lifemated shifters of the same animal can mate in both forms.”
“It’s another blessing of the Mother.” Shay looked at the moon, barely over the top of the mountains. “Let’s sing her down.” He shifted, shook his fur out, and paced to the edge of the knoll over the meadow. Zeb stood next to him, dark fur next to the light, and then Bree.
Shay barked three times, lifted his nose, and gave a long lonely howl. Zeb joined him, lower and rougher. Then Bree added hers, and their voices twined together, filling the valley with a primitive melody as beautiful as the world around them.
They sang until the last glimmer of moonlight disappeared from the mountaintops.
Chapter Forty
Cold Creek, North Cascades Territory
Unwilling to be apart, they’d all piled into Shay’s truck for the final day of their trip back. As Shay drove, Zeb stared out the windshield, trying to ignore the ache in his chest. The trees on each side of the road whipped past, too quickly for his liking. Bringing them to the end. Overhead, the sun broke through the morning rainclouds like a beacon of hope. A beacon of hope. Zeb snorted. As if.
Bree sat between him and Shay, and her eyes glistened with tears. Zeb took her hand and squeezed gently.
Last night, they’d crossed into Calum’s territory. The welcome from Herne and the Mother that every shifter got when returning to their home territory had been wrenchingly strong. Although the Olympic forest had been beautiful, everything inside Zeb reverberated with the knowledge that the North Cascades Territory was where he belonged.
Bree hadn’t been ready—hell, neither had he. He’d never felt such a sense of coming home before.
She’d cried. His sweet female who faced everything head-on had wept so hard that she’d broken his heart. She’d never had a home—and she knew they hadn’t either. Between her feelings of loss and her guilt about them, she’d made herself sick. They’d ended up camping right there in the forest.
Undoubtedly, Calum had felt them enter his territory, but Bree couldn’t have known or she’d have been more nervous. At least, the Cosantir hadn’t sent a cahir to hunt them down last night. Zeb wasn’t sure if he was relieved or not.
Shay put his hand on Bree’s knee. “We’ll speak to the Cosantir, then pack up and leave. Quick and easy.”
“Of course.” Her chin came up as if she weren’t leaving the first home she’d known.
Zeb’s lips tightened. Not fair. She hadn’t done anything wrong. But sometimes that was where the trail led. “We’ll be together,” he said roughly.
“Thank the Mother for that,” Bree murmured.
“Finally got your gods sorted out?” Shay asked with an amused look.
“Yeah, well, after this last week, it’s hard to deny Her.”
Shay drove through Cold Creek and turned onto Main Street. “Uh-oh.”
Two sawhorses blocked the street by Angie’s Diner. A sheriff’s car was parked to one side with Alec leaning against it. People—mostly shifters, some humans—lined the sidewalks.
In front of the sawhorses, alone in the center of the street, the Cosantir waited, arms crossed over his chest.
“Guess we’re expected,” Zeb muttered. His stomach tightened. He and Shay had assured Bree that Calum wouldn’t drop them dead in their tracks, but the Cosantir had the power and the right if he chose to do so.
“Looks like an old-fashioned hanging.” With a scowl, Shay parked on the side of the street. He gave Bree a lingering kiss before getting out.
Zeb did the same. Before he closed the door, he ran his knuckles down Bree’s soft cheek, needing to touch her one last time. Just in case. Then he tapped her chin. “Stay here. Do not get out of the truck.” No matter what you see.
He caught up to Shay, then shoulder-against-shoulder, they approached the Cosantir. His eyes held the black of the God, and Zeb felt his heart sink.
Calum glanced behind them, and his brows drew together ominously. “Did you tell her to stay in the truck?”
Fear burst in Zeb’s stomach. Did the Cosantir plan to punish her as well? He swallowed. Beat me, kill me, don’t hurt Bree. “Yes, I did. Cosantir, please…”
The Cosantir smiled faintly. “It didn’t work.”
A second later, he heard pattering footsteps, and then Breanne shoved between him and Shay. “Cal—Cosantir. It was my fault they left, all my fault, so if you need to kill someone, it has to be me.”
“Indeed.”
Criminy, this isn’t going well. Bree shivered as Calum’s eyes, a black without any glint of light, held her gaze. The power in him was a rumble of thunder in her bones.
“Were you seen by any humans?”
“Only in human form to warn them about a murderer in the area,” Shay replied. “We didn’t trawsfur at all.”
The black gaze wandered across their bodies, lingering on the Zeb’s arm even though his sleeve covered the wound. “The hellhound?”
“Dead. We left its body in Bree’s apartment,” Zeb said.
“We wiped her revolver clean and tossed it into Puget Sound,” Shay added. “The humans might be confused, but nothing will point to the Daonain.”
“Cosantir,” Bree said. The guys had assured her they’d be all right, but she could tell the Cosantir was going to make them pay. She had to get her men out of here. “I had to go back. It was killing my neighbors while searching for me.” She put her arms in front of her men, as if she could block him from hurting them. “Zeb and Shay were just trying to keep me safe. It’s not their fault.”
His expression didn’t change. She’d never realized how cold his face could be. “Breanne. Since your actions did not expose the Daonain’s existence and as you are a new shifter, you are forgiven.”
She felt the men relax and knew the dummies weren’t worried for themselves, just for her.
“Thank you, Cosantir,” Shay said, echoed by Zeb. The gratitude in their voices made her growl. They stepped forward, pushing her behind them, as if scared he’d change his mind.
“Kneel.”
The men dropped to their knees as if their legs had given out.
A chill ran through Bree as the memory of how Klaus had died filled her. “No!” She went around them, dodging Zeb’s grab for her. Stepping in front of the Cosantir, she pressed her hands together on her chest in a plea. “Cosantir, please, they were only—”
With a werecat’s uncanny speed, Calum grabbed her left wrist and held it up in the air. Her silver bracelets gleamed in the sunlight. “Breanne, are Zebulon and Seamus your lifemates?”
Her eyes rested on the two gleaming bands, her heart too full to keep the joy from spilling into her words. “Oh, they are,” she whispered.
The flash of satisfaction in Calum’s face disappeared too fast for her to be certain of what she’d seen. He released her arm. As the blackness in his eyes turned silvery-gray, he pulled the sawhorse barricade to one side.
Bree stopped breathing, hearing only the pulse of her pounding heart. No one moved.
“Cosantir?” Shay asked after a long moment. He was so brave. “Are we forgiven then?”
“You are.” Calum’s lips quirked. “Herne won’t step between a female and her lifem
ates. The Mother would have his…antlers.” His mouth curved into a real smile. “Cahirs, Breanne, welcome home.”
As relief ripped through Bree, she staggered. “We can stay? Really, really stay?” She wrapped her arms around Calum and hugged him tightly. “Oh, thank you.”
He chuckled, hugged her back, and pushed her gently through the sawhorses. She heard Jody’s whoop of delight, was caught in hard hugs from Angie and Vicki, and kissed on the cheek by Bonnie. A second later, Bree was engulfed in women.
Shay grinned as the females surrounded their alpha, and their happiness flowed into him like a bubbling creek. Standing quietly, the males of his pack waited, and their support and pleasure at his return were a low hum in his bones. My pack, my mate. The hard shoulder rubbing against his completed his world. My brother.
As he rose to his feet and yanked Zeb up, he noticed the storeowners were bringing tables and chairs out. Bowls and platters of food appeared from various cars and stores.
After checking the Cosantir who’d moved aside to talk with his littermate, Shay lowered his voice, “A bhràthair, either Cold Creek likes watching their Cosantir kill people or—”
“Or the fucking feline set us up,” Zeb muttered. “Again.”
“Did you know about that lifemating thing?” Shay said under his breath.
“Fuck no.” Zeb lowered his voice further. “I wonder how close we came to getting fried?”
Calum turned and gave them a grim smile. “Very, very close.”
Shay winced. The Cosantir definitely had a mountain lion’s hearing.
Calum added, “If anything had gone wrong in Seattle, the Mother wouldn’t have been able to intervene. It helps that Herne favors his hellhound fighters—he was pleased to go easy on you, especially since you killed another demonkin.”
Shay eyed the Cosantir warily. What kind of a person has conversations with the God and the Mother?
Alec punched Calum in the shoulder. “Nobody pissed themselves, dammit. You’re losing your touch, brawd.”
Amusement lit Calum’s eyes. “I will endeavor to meet your expectations next time, sheriff.” His gaze returned to Zeb and Shay, and darkness flashed again. “Do not let that next time be either of you.”
“No, Cosantir.” Shay gave a slight bow and heard Zeb’s grunt of agreement.
As Calum strolled toward the crowd and the beginning of a celebration, Shay’s eyes narrowed. All those preparations already made. Just when had the Cosantir had that little chat with the Gods?
He rubbed his chin, remembering where they’d camped last night. He turned to Alec. “Calum already knew we were lifemated, didn’t he?”
“Aye. He said you were so well-mated that you lit up the edge of his territory like a fireball. He was damned pleased. As am I.” Alec stuck out his hand. “Good job, cahirs.”
They shook hands with him and ventured into the press of people. Slaps from the pack males, hugs from the females, congratulations from the townspeople.
When they were finally permitted to rejoin Breanne, Angie pushed glasses of champagne into their hands. As the noise died, everyone looked at them expectantly.
When Breanne looked confused, Vicki said, “With the—in Cold Creek, the newlyweds make the first toast.”
Shay didn’t even have to think. He stepped forward and raised his glass. “To our friends.”
Zeb’s shoulder rubbed his as he said in his rough voice, “Our family.”
Breanne squirmed between them, her gentle voice filled with joy, “Our home.”
~ The End ~
Daonain Glossary
The Daonain use a conglomeration of handed-down languages from the British Isles. Some of the older villages still speak the Gaelic (Scots) or Irish Gaelic. Many of the more common (and mangled) shifter terms have descended from Welsh.
Errors and simplification of spelling and pronunciation can be attributed to being passed down through generations…or the author messing up. Below are a few of the more common words and terms used by the shifters.
a bhràthair: brother
a chuisle mo chridhe: pulse of my heart
a leannan: sweetheart, darling
a mhac: son
brawd: brother
cahir: warrior
cariad: lover, darling, sweetheart
cosantir: guardian or protector
dùin do bhuel: shut up
mo bhràthair: my brother
mo charaid: my friend
mo chridhe: my heart
mo leannan: my darling / my lover
tha gaol agam ort: I love you
trawsfur: transform or shift
About the author
I met my dearheart when vacationing in the Caribbean. Now I won’t say it was love at first sight. Actually since he stood over me, enjoying the view down my swimsuit top, I might have been a tad peeved—as well as attracted. But although we were together less than two days and lived on opposite sides of the country, love can’t be corralled by time or space.
We’ve now been married for many, many years. (And he still looks down my swimsuit tops.)
Nowadays, I live in the west with this obnoxious, beloved husband, two children, and various animals, including three cats who rule the household. I’m a gardener, and I love nurturing small plants until they’re big and healthy and productive…and ripping defenseless weeds out by the roots when I’m angry. I enjoy thunderstorms, playing Scrabble, or walking to a neighborhood tavern for a dark beer. My favorite way to spend an evening is curled up on a couch next to the master of my heart, watching the fire, reading, and…well…if you’re reading my books, you obviously know what else happens in front of fires.
~ Cherise
* * *
Please come and visit me online:
Website: http://www.CheriseSinclair.com
Twitter: http://twitter.com/CheriseSinclair
Goodreads: www.goodreads.com/AuthorCheriseSinclair
Facebook: www.facebook.com/CheriseSinclair
Here’s a blurb and excerpt for
The Wild Hunt Legacy 1:
Hour of the Lion
by Cherise Sinclair.
Erotic paranormal romance (ménage)
Hour of the Lion by Cherise Sinclair is an outstanding paranormal story… Hour of the Lion kept my attention from beginning to end and left me wanting more in the incredibly fascinating world that Ms. Sinclair has created. Recommended Read ~ Jae Dark Divas
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Blurb for Hour of the Lion
A dedicated covert ops agent, Victoria Morgan follows two rules: do your duty, and protect the innocent. When she gets bitten by a werecat—yeah, that was a sucky day—she must investigate beings that shouldn't even exist. Just how is she supposed to tell if a person is human…or an animal-shifter who eats raw meat for breakfast?
During her investigation, she finds a real home and friends for the first time. Now, scientists are waiting for her to turn into something four-legged with a tail, the shifters suspect her of spying, and she has fallen in love with two werecat brothers. Should she do her duty and expose their existence? Or should she follow her heart and protect them with all of her deadly skills.
Excerpt for Hour of the Lion
Ignoring the wood pixie chittering angrily in the oak tree, Sheriff Alec McGregor silently stepped onto the porch, coming up behind the burglar. He tried not to laugh as the criminal squirmed like a paw-pinned mouse.
It’d been a boring week so far. The last excitement was a good four days ago when old Peterson, having indulged in rotgut tequila, tried to demonstrate how to tap-dance on top of Calum’s bar…which he did about once a month.
At least a pinioned burglar had the dubious distinction of being unique.
He rubbed his chin, feeling the rasp of stubble. He’d noticed—being as how he was a guy—what was wiggling was a very fine, nicely rounded ass in tight jeans.
And being a guy, he felt the need to see the front of this dangerous perp who had one leg inside the window and the other outside. He moved silently across the porch and checked out the criminal’s front side to see what else the evening might hold.
Evening is going well. Hair, the rich color of dark walnut, rippled across her shoulders, and her purple T-shirt was tight enough to reveal amazingly lush breasts for such a compact body. Since she was too occupied to notice his arrival, he could study her assets without being considered a macho pig. Abundant. Yes, that would be the word. He’d heard the more-than-a-mouthful is wasted saying, but when it came to breasts, he was a bit of a glutton.
Concentrating on freeing her leg from something, she was oblivious to everything else.
He thought for a minute and decided to speak up. And hey, he needed to see the color of her eyes—for the report and all.
“My jail is empty today,” he remarked sociably. “In case you wondered.”
She froze like a mouse hearing a fox. When huge copper-colored eyes met his, everything inside him came to a halt, like the day he’d been chasing a rabbit and got his leg caught in a steel trap. A hard painful grip, only this time it was his chest being squeezed.
Winter of the Wolf (Hunt 2) Page 42