Quickening his pace of thrusts, Siofra feels the slight pain and then immense pleasure of Conall’s bite, and bites down herself; his blood filling her mouth causing a loud growl to roll through her. Her wolf howls in pleasure. They both fall over the edge of the climax they had built up, releasing their holds after what feels like forever to lap and lick the wounds closed. He rolls onto his back so she is draped across his chest.
“I love you Conall,” Siofra whispers, drifting off to sleep, content in her life with all worry and anxiousness pushed to the back of her mind.
“I love you Siofra,” Conall answers, kissing the top of her head. He lets himself drift off to sleep, encased in his favorite blanket; her warm, perfect body.
CHAPTER TEN:
Tuesday and Wednesday pass normally, bringing Thursday, which is Thanksgiving, and the annual Pack dinner at the bar. Every Pack member, child and spouse are in attendance. The bar is stuffed with long tables, good smelling food and about 45 people, strewn throughout the kitchen, dining and game rooms. Siofra has stolen a few minutes alone in the office, telling Conall she is going to make a call.
Taking out her laptop, she brings up Skype and finds Dorthea Petit online. The older woman’s plump, kind, grey-haired face pops onto the screen. “Bonjour Dorthea, joyeux Thanksgiving,” Hello Dorthea, Happy Thanksgiving, she greeted.
“Joyeux Thanksgiving, ma chere,” Happy Thanksgiving, my dear, Madame Petit issues, smiling her same warm smile that lifts Siofra’s spirits.
“Are you busy?” Siofra smiles back, hoping the answer is no.
“Quite, my dear, may I call you later? Or better yet just log on when you get home, we’ll continue face-to-face on here.” Siofra hears shouts in the background and Dorthea smiles, “I must go my dear. Be strong.”
“I will, talk to you later,” shutting her laptop, Siofra doesn’t wonder how Dorthea knows something is wrong, she’s just glad her friend could read that it is important. She had come to learn of Dorthea’s sixth sense while she stayed with the Alpha in New Orleans, and learned that her Were abilities are increased by her Wiccan roots. Satisfied to talk later, Siofra rejoins everyone in the bar.
Conall snakes his arm around her waist pulling her to him, kissing her sweetly. “Is everything okay, my love?” He whispers, while nibbling on her ear, getting a giggle out of her. He pulls her flush to his front, moving his lips to her cheek then to her forehead, mumbling that she smells so good he wants to take her right here, right now.
“Connie!” she gasps, swatting him in the chest. “Yes, everything is fine,” she puts her hand on his chest, playfully pushing him away.
“Now, you two,” they turn to see Jace, hands outstretched to them offering beers, “enough with the PDA. Where’s the little one?” Looking around him to all sides, their friend searches for the roaming monster that is her son, Roan.
“In the game room, chasing the others around as usual,” Conall nods and points over Jace’s head. Both men share a look, telling Siofra they are recalling how her son likes to run around, screaming and yelling as much as possible while the other children squeal around him, egging him on.
“Ah, well, do you wanna play some tunes till dinner, Connie?” She can tell Jace’s fingers are itching to play the guitar, as he wiggles his eyebrows over to the band room.
“Sure do, bud,” Conall replies, grinning at Siofra before they both trot off. She peeks her head around the wall into the game room, spotting Roan on the floor being entertained by Cassie’s daughter Susie; she laughs to herself and heads into the kitchen to see what she can help with.
“Siofra dear, could you open the oven for me?” Susan yells from the right, her hands full with a tray laden with six different pies. Rushing over to her, Siofra opens the oven door, noticing that there are already two trays in the oven. “Ah, thank you, my dear,” Susan pats her on the shoulder sighing happily.
“You need any help, Sue?” Looking around her, it seems Siofra has come too late. Pots are already boiling on the stove and the strong smell of roasted turkey is flowing from the other ovens.
“No, not till the pies need to come out in ‘bout thirty minutes from now.” Wiping down the counter in front of her and tossing the rag into the nearby sink, Susan puts her arm around Siofra’s waist. “Did you get ahold of your New Orleans friend?”
“She was busy, but she said to call her back later to talk, that she would be online,” leaning her head on Susan’s shoulder, she takes a deep breath. Susan rubs her hand along her shoulders and arm.
“You are our family now, Fry. We won’t let anything happen to either you or Roan,” she says, kissing Siofra lightly on the forehead, then going back to wiping the counters. “Be a hon and go get my sons. Tell them to get their butts in here to carve and carryout the turkeys.” And by turkeys she means, twenty, 20lb birds. Wolves have huge appetites. Giving Susan a happy little grin, she heads into the droves of people, searching for the four tall brothers.
Roman is the easiest to spot; his stature towering over everyone else. Sending him to get Mike and telling him their destination, she moves into the music area in search of Jason and Conall. Guitar notes find her and she smiles recognizing the tune. They are practicing what is to become her first solo performance with no backup vocals from them; a rendition of Heidi Newfield’s “Why’d Ya Have To Be So Good”. Just the tune makes butterflies start up in her stomach; she is afraid she will screw up when in front of a crowd being all on her own.
“Hey boys, sounds good,” she waves, catching their attention. She spies Jason by the sound booth, messing with the knobs. He’s the one who helps with their sound checks. Jason can also play the fiddle and piano, which always means a good time.
“Hey girly! What you need?” Jace answers with a smirk; the ever-present ladies-man.
“Sue wants her sons in the kitchen to carve up the turkeys, but I suppose, they can use you too, Mister Jace.” She answers him sarcastically.
Jason meets her at the bottom of the stage steps, poking her in the side and making her jump. Conall and Jace finish storing their guitars and lop down next to them. Gathering Siofra in an embrace that takes her breath away and makes her head spin, Conall says, “Alright love, go get the little guy.”
Following them out, she finds Roan and sits him in a highchair in their assigned seats at the head table. Cooing at Roan as he giggles, she jumps when her phone vibrates in her back pocket. One new text message blinks at her when she unlocks her screen. An unknown number, but she opens it anyways.
“We know where you are! We are coming for MY son! Do NOT deny me, or you WILL PAY with the lives of those around you. YOU ARE MINE, YOU BITCH, how dare you take my son from me! You will pay!”
‘Oh no, how can this be?’ she thinks. Desperation, anger, regret and remorse fill her being.
How could she have been so wrong about someone, who at one time, she thought she loved? Kyle Bokan had gone from trusted high school sweetheart, to dead, to now a resurrected psychopath; all in the matter of a couple of days. Fear tingles all the way from her heart, to her feet and fingers and back again, making her tremble. Tears start to build up on her lashes.
He knows where she is. He’s angry and willing to take innocent lives to have her back. To have their son as his.
The phone slips from her fingers, crashing to the floor, but she doesn’t hear the cracking and breaking sounds. She’s too focused on her son’s happy face and the feeling of desperation building around her heart to protect him. Hands on her shoulders make her scream out, and she whips her head to the side to find Trey; staring at her with concern written all over his features.
“Hey Fry, what’s wrong?” Sitting down quickly, he takes her hands. “You want me to get Conall?” Gazing at him she nods, it’s all she can manage to do, and he’s out of his seat and across the room before she can blink.
She can feel his anger before he busts through the doors from the kitchen with a roasting pan full of carved turkey. Conall drops it down o
n the serving table, losing a few pieces to the floor, before he plops down into his chair next to her. She can feel the desperation and anxiety mixing with his anger, rolling off of him.
“Love, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Taking her face in his hands, he looks into her tearing eyes. She tries not to let the tears slip out, but as the pine green depths gaze into her, she can’t help but sniffle, releasing a few tears to slide down her cheek.
All Siofra can do is grunt and point at her dropped phone that is lying on the floor between her shoes. Bending over and retrieving the phone, Conall’s eyes move across the screen, his agitation growing with every passing second. She hears him growl in frustration, his hand crunching the broken plastic even more.
Grabbing her hand and squeezing he says, “Siofra look at me, love.”
She turns her head, tears rolling off her cheeks and down her chin uncontrollably. Wiping them away with his thumb, he growls, “They will never get him. I will rip their hearts out myself before they get either of you. It will be okay.” Leaning in he kisses her lightly on the lips, turning to the crowd who has now silenced and gathered slightly around their position.
Motioning to his brothers, father and a few others, he leads them into the band room, away from prying eyes and ears. Feeling utterly alone and defeated, Siofra stands and takes hold of Roan, cradling him to her. He chatters away as she holds him close, her tears dripping down into his little sweater and shirt.
Nuzzling her nose into his neck, loving his baby powder scent, she whispers, “I will never let them have you. They will have to kill me and pry you from my cold fingers before they can have you.” Kissing him, she sets him back in his high-chair, spying the group with Conall returning.
Handing her back the broken phone, Conall clears his throat to address the crowd. “Everyone please quiet down. Please take your seats,” sitting next to him, Siofra can feel eyes on her tear streaked face. Sounds of shuffling feet and chairs fill the room; then all is quiet. “Everyone, Happy Thanksgiving! Please dig into the food prepared by all the ladies,” winking at his mom he continues. “Also, use this day to let your brotherly bound grow stronger, ‘cuz in the days approaching, we may face an enemy who wants to do us harm. Let’s all be thankful for each other, and for never turning our back on the Pack!” He emphasizes the last sentence and raises his beer, everyone following suit, with cheering turning into howling, vibrating the entire bar.
People are heading up to the buffet when Conall leans into Siofra’s ear, “I called Marcus so he is informed and I forwarded him the text. He said his team members should be here the day after tomorrow.” Kissing her lips he adds, “We are family now, we won’t let this go unpunished.” Rubbing the back of her neck he kisses her again, this time with the passion she needs to be reassured. Their lips linger on one another for a long moment before he runs his nose along hers, issuing a low, rumbling growl, calming her wolf, as she leans into him.
His parents, Jason and Cassie come to stand by them, creating light conversation when it’s finally their turn for the buffet. “Come on, Roan,” Conall smiles, reaching under Roan’s up-stretched arms to pick him up.
“Dada,” mumbles Roan, patting his arms on Conall’s shoulders. Astonished looks and silence covers their little group. Everyone is wide eyed. They all look at each other and then back to Roan.
Coming to face her son, Siofra points at Conall and says, “Who is this, Roan?”
“Dada,” he repeats. Looking Conall in his pine-green eyes, Siofra smiles and nods; the joy of this moment breaking the sadness that, only seconds before, had settled around her heart.
“Yes, Roan; this is your Daddy.” Getting up on her tiptoes, she wraps her arms around his neck and kisses Conall with all her heart, as he holds Roan, slipping his free arm around her waist. She revels in the sound of her son cooing his name, as his little hands tug at her hair. This is her family and she is going to protect it no matter what.
No. Matter. What.
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
The Thanksgiving feast has wound down, filled with happy chatter about Roan’s newly found word of “Dada” directed towards Conall. They have cleaned everything and stored the leftovers to be used as specials at the bar for the following week, all before Conall and Siofra head home with a sleeping baby in the back seat.
Putting Roan to bed in his crib and grabbing her laptop, Siofra looks to the clock above her TV stand. Ten-thirty, Dorthea should still be up. She is a lively, older Cajun woman.
Conall plops down on the couch next to her, throwing his arm around her shoulders. “You mind if I watch some TV while you’re talking with Dorthea?” He grins at her, then leans in and begins to nibble on her ear, growling as the fire ignites deep within for him.
“You can stay as long as you quit doing that,” she nudges him away, kissing his lips, “And we’ll be talking in French, she’s more comfortable that way. Especially when it’s Pack business, ok?” She gazes up to him and he winks, turning the television on.
Dorthea’s sweet face pops up on her screen, “Bonjour, cherie!” Hello, dear.
“Bonjour, Madame Petit. Jai besion de votre aide.” Hello, Madame Petit. I am in need of your help. Siofra adds with a weak smile.
“Quel est le probleme, ma chere?” What is the problem, my dear? Dorthea’s head cocks to the side, concern crossing her features as Siofra sees her adjusting in her seat, knowing the older woman is probably wringing her hands underneath the table.
“Il existe des gens venant apres Roan, pouvez vous m’envoyer certaines de vos gens?” There are people coming after Roan, can you send me some of your people? Siofra begins to tear up, but fights them back, determined not to cry.
“Bien sur, ma chere. Est-ce que je devrais ariive ainsi?” Of course, my dear. When should we arrive then? Siofra can see Dorthea pick up her cell phone and it looks like she is sending a text, her fingers moving over the keys quickly.
“Non, non. Sejour en Nouvelle-Orleans, ou vous serez en toute securite. Envoyer Leon si vous le pouvez aussi, je dois aller main tenant.” No, no, stay in New Orleans where you will be safe. Send Leon if you can, I have to go now. She smiles to the older woman on the screen, blowing her a kiss, “Merci, Madame Petit, merci.” Thank you, thank you.
“Il ne reappraisal si j’ai essaye de garder, de l’amour. Je vais envoyer votre chemin des main tenant. Appelez-moi si vous a vez besoin, ma chere.” I’d never hear the end of it if I tried to keep him, love. Call me if you need anything, my dear. Blowing a return kiss, Dorthea bids farewell for now, “Au revior, chere.” Goodbye for now, dear.
“Au revoir, Madame.” Siofra waves until Dorthea’s face disappears, then she shuts her laptop. Leaning her head back onto Conall’s arm she angles her head to stare at the side of his face.
Without looking at her, he asks, “The verdict?” while popping a few kernels of popcorn in his mouth. He turns to see her smile and gives her a heart shattering grin.
“She’s sending some of her men, Leon included, and Sebastian the vampire, but he’s only gonna travel by night, of course. It’ll take him longer,” she reaches over and grabs some popcorn. “You’ll like Leon. He’s good guy.” She places a kiss to his cheek and stands, stretching, “I’m gonna take a shower, care to join me?”
Flicking off the TV, he stands, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her back against his front. “You bet I do,” he growls in her ear while smacking her butt; then chasing her into the bathroom.
She turns on him as soon as he shuts the door, pushing his back up against it and claiming his lips; her hands traveling down to unhook his belt and unbutton, unzip and shove his jeans down to his ankles. She loves the groan that rolls through him when she rips the buttons free from his shirt, exposing his chest to her lips and she takes liberty in exploring his defined muscles.
As her teeth graze one of his nipples, Siofra gasps when Conall spins her around, trapping her back to his front, as his hands explore and pull her cl
othing off; tossing them to the floor. As one strong hand slides up her stomach and between her breasts, encircling her neck, the other rips her panties from her body, and returns to run teasingly down between her legs, making her moan.
“Shh, shh, shh, my love,” he growls in her ear, not relenting as his fingers slip inside of her. “Don’t want to wake the baby, now would you?” He chuckles lightly, reaching and turning the water on before pressing her hips back to grind into his very rampant need for her. Moving his one hand from around her neck to cover her mouth, he grunts against the slight pain as she bites down on his finger; not hesitating to wrap his other arm around her waist, he lifts her up, driving inside of her as they’re both drenched by the hot spray of the shower. He keeps his hand over her mouth as he thrusts relentlessly into her willing body until her muffled scream of pleasure spills out and her body quakes against his.
Still floating, Siofra almost falls to the shower floor, as Conall spins her around; pinning her back against the cool tile wall as the hot water trickles down her shaking body. She’s gasping for breath and still seeing white stars, but she needed that to chase all the demons from her mind for at least right now. She wraps her arms around his neck and her legs around his body; driving him deep within her again.
His groan vibrates over her skin, as he rocks his hips into her; she gives him a naughty smile when their eyes meet. He silently questions her smile, but forgets about it as he crashes their lips together, winding his hand into her wet hair and holding her in place as his tongue mates with hers.
“You. Are. Mine,” he grinds out against her mouth, biting her bottom lip and swiping his tongue over it to soothe her. The action drives her close to the edge again and she arches into him, begging him for more, but he just teases her with one hard thrust. “I will not let anything hurt my family.”
Siofra's Song: Book 1 The Broadus Supernatural Society Series Page 8