Fear had overtaken her loveable wolf. Pain sliced at her heart. “I will never leave you, Bane. I am yours for all eternity.”
“Not if that fucking Jarle gets his way. I made an error once. I will not do it again. And that is precisely why I have never thought to free our love. I had no idea how to best that Viking. And in all honesty, I still don’t. The challenge is all I can give of myself.”
He released her wrist.
“I have spoken to my mother and she will make the gods lower the amount you have to settle with Jarle tomorrow. When he makes his demand, the gods will offer him less than what they suggested when we first lived in this time.”
“Are ye certain?”
She nodded.
A sigh of relief fell from Bane’s mouth. “Then so be it.” He once again lowered his head, but this time brought his lips to hers. His fierce kiss ran deep, his tongue parting her mouth.
She opened for him, welcomed him for the first time in ages.
A zing traveled through her body. The heightened sensation struck her nerves, fanned out from her neck and then descended throughout her limbs, racing straight down to her the very tips of her toes.
She once again reached for Bane’s hard cock and wrapped her fingers around his thick girth. Moving her hands over his shaft, she explored his rigidness, maneuvered her palm over his tip. A bead of fluid smeared over the center of her hand.
Bane sought her clit. His long, large fingers, callused from centuries of using a sword, stroked her mound.
She wiggled beneath him. “More.” She begged.
He lowered his head and took her right nipple between his teeth and his forefinger flicked against her clit.
She bucked.
A muffled howl, rose in his throat.
Aine brought her hands back to Bane’s shoulders, then slid them down his back, her nails digging into his well-defined, well-honed muscles.
He sucked her nipple harder.
“Take me now, Bane. Please.” A thousand years of pent up sexual energy didn’t take long to explode.
Bane moved against her, slid his penis into her slick hole.
The feel of him stretching her, filling her, sent waves of small shocks cursing through her nether region.
He thrust. One hard, full slam of himself.
Her fingers dug deeper into his back. Her head rolled to the side on the pillow, the scent of sandalwood now totally taking over her sense of smell.
Bane lifted his head from her breast. His wolf teeth protruded. He went back in for a bite, his canines grazing her neck.
He pulled out of her slit and then thrust back.
She met his every move, even going so far as bending her knees further back and lifting her legs as high as possible, giving Bane full access to her private parts.
And he took full advantage of her silent request, filling her to the deepest depth that he could.
Their bodies slammed against one another, the sound of flesh hitting flesh echoing through the room.
The bed shook.
Spasms, now quicker and more intense than before, rocked her body. Aine bucked once again and then gasped.
A strong orgasm forced her eyes to close.
“Bane,” she cried out.
He grunted. With a fierce thrust he pounded into her and then raised his head and howled.
He pumped his seed into her womb and when spent, collapsed on top of her, his breathing ragged and his body slick with sweat.
She had her Bane back.
And for this single moment, her world was perfect.
Chapter Eight
Bane woke to the sharp, cold edge of a blade digging into his neck. On instinct, he grabbed for the other side of the bed, his fingers searching for Aine. His hand met with nothing but frigid, empty linen.
His gaze rose to the chainmail-clad figure standing above him.
Jarle.
“What the bloody hell have ye done with my wife?”
A hearty, sadistic laugh spewed from the Viking’s mouth. “Your wife?”
“Aye. My. Wife.”
Jarle lifted his sword.
Bane shot up, dashed from the bed and had his claymore in his hand in a flash. Keeping the damn sword nearby was a verra good thing his father had taught him. He brandished the weapon at Jarle.
The Viking jumped back. “You always were a sick, bastard, wolf. No sane man has ever talked anything but tales of instability when it came to you. Not even the gods claim to know what goes on in that messed up head of yours.”
“I am no fool, Viking. My enemies don’t know the real me on purpose, for if they had, they’d know my thoughts before I knew them and that would be a verra, verra bad thing.” He sliced the air with his sword.
Jarle inched back, his broad shoulders pushing apart the velvet drapes covering the window.
A ray of strong sunlight bit into the room and bounced off the silver beads decorating Jarle’s beard. The blinding light forced Bane to stumble. He fell.
The Viking’s blade came down on his neck once more. Jarle crouched, his foul-smelling breath fanned Bane’s nose.
He gagged.
“Make no mistake, Highlander, I will have your head by nightfall.”
Bane spit.
Jarle didn’t even flinch. “And after I take your life, know that I’ll have that sweet little Aine of yours, in my bed, giving her a fuck befitting the whore that she is. Breaking the bitch until that curvaceous body of hers has nothing left to give.”
Anger flared in his soul.
His hands curled.
The bones in his knees shifted.
His breast cage popped, shifting his ribs.
Fur covered his body.
He morphed into complete wolf form.
Bane pulled away from Jarle’s sword and howled.
He also then growled, his mouth snarling.
Jarle slowly stood. “Have your anger party now, wolf, because when I come for you later, I will best you. For the gods have favored me over our shared whore. They are on my side. You don’t stand a chance this time.”
Foam and spit fell from his mouth. With a single leap, Bane went for Jarle’s hip.
The Viking screamed. He sliced with his blade, but missed. The sword slipped from his gnarled fingers and fell to the floor with an echoing clank.
Bane’s teeth remained embedded in Jarle’s flesh. Bits of mail and blood-soaked leather pressed into his tongue, but he didn’t give a damn. He dug his teeth in deeper.
“Stand down, wolf.” Mortimer shouted from somewhere on the other side of the room.
Bane hesitated.
“Need I remind ye that this is my castle, my land.”
Bane relinquished his hold on Jarle. He stepped back and spit pieces of broken mail from his mouth. The warm sticky feel of blood dripped down his chin.
“A wise decision, vampire,” Jarle said. “But do not think this is the end. I will be back for the wolf’s head at dusk. And I advise you to stay out of that fight or your precious castle will no longer be.” Jarle stomped from the room, a trail of blood marking his path.
Bane shifted. “Where is Aine?” He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, then bent and swiped his crumpled kilt off the floor. “I dinna want Jarle finding her.”
“Don’t mind my sister. The Viking is more intent on fighting you at the moment.” Mortimer returned the sword he’d been holding to the scabbard dangling from the side of his kilt. An angered look crossed his stern features. “What the hell got into you?”
He really didn’t need an interrogation now. “Dinna blame me for this. I woke with that bastard’s sword at my neck.”
The vampire glanced at the bed. “And yet ye are asking about my sister. I take it she spent the night in your bed.”
“Not that it is any of your business, as we are married after all.”
Mortimer’s brow furrowed.
Christ. The vampire hadn’t known about him and Aine time traveling. He dropped his head ba
ck and let out a long, deep breath.
“Ye only asked for her hand last night,” the vampire said. “And ye haven’t even yet sought my father’s blessing.”
“I can explain.”
“Na.” Mortimer crossed the room. “I think it best I dinna know.” He paused, a soulful look seeping into his blue eyes. “There are many rumors and tall tales about the castles of Dundaire. About the blessed, or rather cursed, ground that the dwellings have been built on. So, maybe I need to know some things. But ye are right where my sister is concerned. If ye and her are married, then I would think it was a love match. For I can’t imagine any soul willing to come back here, to this time, to the strife we know will soon be here. Reliving whatever is to come canna be easy knowing it will come. And to be willing to do that, then ye must truly love Aine.”
“As she loves me.”
“At least I know I did one good thing in this life, giving you and Aine my blessing.”
Bane nodded. There was so much more he had wanted to tell Mortimer, but he’d said too much already. “Keep the cornerstone of Castle Dundaire safe. That is all ye need to know.”
“May the gods will it.” Mortimer slapped him on the shoulder. “Get fully dressed as Aine is waiting in the armory. She has this wild notion that she must learn how to handle a claymore. And since ye say ye are her husband, I shall pass those unpleasant lessons on to you, for the gods know my sister can’t even manage a needle without pricking her finger when she sews. I have no desire to be near her while she attempts to manage a sword. That fool’s task is all yours.”
~~o0o~~
He hadn’t the heart to tell Aine her mother’s family had decided to back Jarle and not her. Loving Aine had been a mistake. Yes, he treasured his sons and for them he was grateful of his union with Aine. But he should have left things as they were and allowed Fate to play out as it so wished.
But he hadn’t and that meant only one thing. He really wasn’t a good father. Allowing Callen to suffer all those years was not something he should have done. And coming back here now proved it, as who the heck knew if Callen and his other sons would even survive him altering time? Things were now worse than they were before.
He should have challenged Jarle in the past, but he hadn’t. He took the easy way out and asked Aine’s father for the gold to settle up with the Viking.
A brave man, a worthy man, would have faced the gods and argued his cause. But he simply wasn’t good enough to face those powerful deities. Which also meant he wasna good enough for beautiful, lovely Aine.
He entered the armory, claymore strapped to his side. One lesson and he’ll leave. Him being Aine’s current husband, Mortimer would see reason in his actions. He had no choice but to tell the vampire everything and then ensure the man saved Aine. After the lesson, he’d go back and tell Mortimer the whole story, everything he left out earlier. Maybe Aine would end up falling in love with a good man and have sons with him. Maybe even the same sons they had now and then Callen and the others wouldn’t have had to suffer. Who was he to say that cudna have happened?
Mortimer’s men would fend off Jarle. They were the most powerful vampire coven in all of Scotland. Perhaps him coming back in time changed the sacking of Dundaire. It could be. At least he’d have to take his chances with that.
But telling Aine his plans was a definite mistake.
He straightened, held his shoulders back and his head high. Nothing must seem amiss to the wumman.
Aine ran up to him. “What are you doing here?” She eyed the claymore at his side. “Mortimer is supposed to give me lessons today. Will ye watch?”
He grinned. Mustered just enough energy to appear unworried. “Na. I have taken over that chore.”
She slapped him on the arm. “Teaching me is no chore, husband.”
“Shush.” He raised his finger to his lips. “Ye dinna want someone to hear those words.”
Aine laughed. “No one comes to the armory when I’m in here. Our secret is safe in these chambers.”
“Are ye really that bad with a blade? I dinna recall.”
The scent of lavender twirled about him as Aine leaned in. Her plain yellow gown accentuated the gold-flecks in her light brown eyes. God, but he was going to miss staring into those eyes. Especially on moonlit nights like he’d done before the sacking of Dundaire, before he’d lost Aine to the shadows of the Otherworld. But he had today. And teaching her how to defend herself was the least good he could do.
“Now,” he said, “about that sword….”
~~o0o~~
Never in all her thousand years of life would she have believed learning how to use a blade could be so hard. Watching her brother’s men train seemed like it would be an easy task to achieve.
Not so. “I think my brother’s men have hexed me.”
“What makes ye say that?”
“I’ve spent hours observing them work their swords.”
“I dinna know if I want to hear that, wife.”
She bit her bottom lip. “I mean when they use their weapons. Their thrusts seem so easy.”
Bane shook his head. “Still not winning my favor, lass.”
She paused. “Do ye always have to think of sex?”
He raised an eyebrow. “I am man. Ye do know that, right?”
Two can play at this game. “Mayhap ye need to prove the fact to me.”
“I think that was settled at dawn.”
Aine walked over to Bane and leaned her sword against the wall. She reached out and ran her fingers down his undone shirt. “You’re hot.”
“We have been training, well, trying to train, for three hours.”
“And yet, I have not broken a sweat, as you have.”
Bane frowned. “So I am aware.”
“I think you’re trying too hard.”
“And ye are trying too little.”
She smiled. Bane made everything seem like fun. “Come,” she said, taking his hand and pulling him away from the armory wall. The scent of sandalwood permeated the nearby space. “One more try. And this time I promise to give it my all.”
“Are ye telling me the last three hours have been for naught?” He bent and plucked her claymore from the wall, then handed it over.
The exasperation blanketing Bane’s face, devastated her.
She sighed. “I have no comment.”
“Of course ye don’t.” He gently grabbed her right shoulder and moved her to stand in front of him. “Never in all my immortal life, have I met a more uncoordinated soul.”
“I canna be that bad.”
“Oh, don’t think I will fall for that trap, wife. The husband in me knows better than to comment on that statement.” He slid his hands down her arms and gripped her wrists. “Now raise the blade.”
She did as he’d instructed, the warmth of his hot body seeping through her gown. She leaned back.
“Concentrate on the stick, wumman.”
“I am.” She wiggled her arse against him.
He let out a deep breath. “I am referring to the claymore.”
“Maybe you’re right. I am not cut out to learn the sword.”
Bane pulled her in. He brought his mouth to her ear. “If ye think I am going to give up now, after all these hours, that pretty little head of yours is beyond daft.”
She dropped the sword. And turned around.
Bane had his lips on hers in seconds, his fingers undoing her bodice.
The sound of the armory’s large, double doors slamming open, sent a thud reverberating through the chamber.
Bane pulled away from Aine.
She eyed the armory’s entrance. “Father?”
“How dare ye have your way with my daughter.” The elder MacDougal shouted.
Jarle appeared behind him. “Give me five minutes with the wolf and I will have begging for his life, sir.”
MacDougal raised his hand.
Jarle fell silent.
“I have conferred with the Viking,” MacDougal said, “and
with the gods.”
This was more disastrous than she could have ever imagined. With her preternatural powers, Aine laced up her bodice. She remained at Bane’s side. “Father, ye dinna have all the facts.”
“Hush, wumman. I know all that I need to know. This wolf is not a suitable husband. Do ye know he is planning on asking me to fund the bride price that must be given back to the Viking? He canna afford you.”
“Please. If you will just give me a few minutes of your time, I can explain.” She prayed to the gods her da would see reason.
“Na. Jarle has asked for a challenge. And he shall have it.”
“But, Father…”
MacDougal slammed his cane against the floor. “My word has been spoken.” He glared at Bane. “Choose any weapon ye wish, but do not fail to show ye bloody face or my men will hunt you down and see to it you are removed as alpha.”
She would not have Bane’s world unraveled. “He is a good alpha, Father. You have no say over the pack. Bane reigns over all shifters, even your vampiric coven.”
MacDougal’s glare grew dark, almost as black as the wool shift he wore. “Answer back again, and ye will be given to Jarle without a challenge.”
He wouldn’t dare.
“Dinna test me, daughter.”
Damn her father’s vampiric powers of reading her mind. “How can you give me away?”
“Ye slept with the wolf. What choice do I have? Ye should be lucky the Viking still wishes your hand in marriage.”
She had done nothing wrong. Bane was her husband and sleeping with him was no sin. But of course revealing that would be dangerous. She’d caused enough trouble with time just by coming back to this day.
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