by Raven, Jess
Warm hands settled on her hips and she didn’t even have to look to know they were Connal’s. His presence stirred her blood. ‘Are you sure you’re okay with this?’ he said. ‘We can take your car.’
Ash could feel the glare he aimed over her shoulders at a smirking Fite.
‘I’m good, Big Bad.’ Her lips curved a small smile at him and she swallowed as she reached for the handrail.
The other members of the skuldalid were watching her curiously. Knutr’s face was strangely bare, his hair damp and less tangled. He waved from his seat beside Brandr. The two empty spaces beside Mac seemed the obvious choice, but Ash found herself second-guessing her next move.
Well, this wasn’t awkward at all.
In the end, Connal made the decision for them. He guided her to the bench opposite a wide-grinning Knutr and closed her in beside Mac. The King took his eyes off the moon long enough to run her head to toe in a black-fire gaze, and then a flare of his nostrils turned him from her.
Ash had an apology on the tip of her tongue. She wore Connal’s scent on her skin like a brand of his possession. Scooching along the bench, she put distance between them and ended up frowning at the opposite wall.
‘Smile.’
Her eyes sought Knutr’s as his voice broke through her thoughts. His face was bright, an exaggerated grin stretching his mouth. Her lips twitched.
‘Not good enough,’ he teased and she chuckled, flashing him a smile before letting it fall back into soft amusement.
Ash reached out a hand to Knutr’s hair.
‘It looks different. Were you guys doing makeovers last night?’ Her voice was quiet and she leaned forward, pretending the glares coming from the wolves either side of him didn’t exist.
‘I found a brush and the elixir in the showering room killed the tangles,’ his hands smoothed the new, soft curls and she smiled at the pride in his voice.
‘You’re looking suave, Knutr. More GQ, less Cro-Mag.’
His cheekbones were high and sharp, bare of the beard and sideburns he’d sported the first time they met. She would have killed for his bone-structure. And saner answers. His ramblings had left her with more questions than she’d started with, and she yearned for more time with him, when he was lucid and spoke in proper sentences.
This man knew her father, and he had knowledge of what really happened to her mother, beyond her nightmarish memories. But with tensions running so high in the enclosed space, now didn’t seem like the time for a probing Q&A. Knutr beamed across at her, looking sophisticated, and then the moment passed over a speed bump and his lucidity went with it. The van was filled with his low mumblings and the thegn driver turned up the volume on the radio.
No one spoke as they trundled through the streets of Dublin. Apart from Mac’s huff when she leaned a little too much into Connal, the passengers were silent.
The van slid smoothly to a stop outside Form, the club’s signage catching her eye in a swirl of red and black. The colour made her breathless. When she would have lingered, Connal’s warm hand took hers and led her from the stationary vehicle. His mouth was curved in amusement as she met his eyes, dazed. Wolves piled from the van around them. His voice was low to her ear. ‘You know you get this look.’
‘It’s the colour.’ She wet her lower lip in a slow sweep. ‘It’s intense.’ It made her shaky, made her hungry. She’d forgotten how good it could feel.
‘I’ve got you, Little Red.’ And he did. Connal held her hand and kept her close, supporting her with the firm reality of his body.
They followed the line of wolves through the club’s doors. Inside, Form was strewn with bodies, thrall-girls and the occasional guy, sleeping off the full moon lunacy. The girls made her nervous. It was like walking into a pit of sleeping sirens, all ready to wake up and try to fuck them to death. She wasn’t sure how they’d react to her.
Stirred by their masters’ proximity, a number of them reached out with their black, half-mooned nails to brush ankles and thighs, to rub against crotches and claw at the men passing. Brandr caught at a few girls, stealing kisses as Rún hauled him along with the rest of the procession into the lower levels.
In her haste to get out of it, Ash had forgotten how beautiful the club was. Edgy and dark, it spoke of carnality, a lair for the beasts aboveground. She drew her fingers down the damask-papered hallway, guided forward by the constant press of Connal at her back. Lush carpet gave way to polished tile, the warmth of the club cooling to the stone basement as they filed in.
The click of the door’s lock straightened her spine and steeled her nerves. Her senses mapped the room, taking note of space and where each wolf was. They were waiting for something, the faces of the men ranging from fear to anticipation. Brandr shot her a wink and Knutr smiled goofily. Before she could respond, Fite’s silhouette cut across her vision, shaped against the backdrop of the other males. He was riled up for the journey back, triumph and disgust warring in his hissed words.
‘You better pray the Morrigan holds up her end of the deal, because if you set foot in Fomor, there will be war.’
Connal and Mac snarled in unison.
Ash waved them down and tipped her chin at Fite. ‘If I can help it, I won’t be going down there, you don’t have to worry.’
He growled, but nodded. She could just imagine how he was hoping she’d die before she could make it to the waters.
The conduit swirled as though it was aware of their agreement and was beckoning him home. One last scathing glance, and Fite dove into the black pool, disappearing beneath its surface. The last threads of his aggression filtered down the channel’s plughole and Ash exhaled tension. Jostling each other, the remaining wolves fell in pairs into the black depths, swallowed whole and sucked down into Hell. Ash shivered.
‘Rayvn,’ Knutr sang out, a mad strain to the tune, and she turned towards him with a frown. But he was laughing, teasing her. ‘Ah ah ah. I know who you are, Ashling. You are not allowed to look at me like that.’
The back of her hand lashed his shoulder. ‘Don’t do that to me.’
He took her fist gently and she was aware of Connal and Mac moving backwards to give them space.
‘You’ll come and see me, right? Next full moon?’ Ash pleaded, ‘I have so many questions about my mother.’ It hurt, more than she expected. He was possibly the only blood, besides her grandmother, she had left. And, insane or not, he’d protected her. He’d saved her. He had loved her mother and her father. Sadness welled and he shushed her, drawing her into his embrace.
‘A wild pack of wolves couldn’t keep me away,’ he laughed roughly, aiming a pointed look at Mac. When she looked up, he brushed a curl behind her ear. She sniffed and he smiled. ‘Ah, Ashling, you look so much like your mother. It is pain and pleasure to know you, child.’ His lips were warm, pressing to her cheek and he released her. ‘Look after her, Savage. I know where you live.’ Knutr was deadly serious, and Ash was howling laughter internally at the look on Connal’s face. He was dumbfounded and wary. Connal nodded slowly and gripped the arm Knutr stretched towards him in a warrior’s handshake. A blinding smile edged in mania and a cough of water later, and he disappeared through the conduit.
A deep breath inflated her lungs. ‘And then there were three ...’ She tried to smile. Her heart wasn’t in it. It was clenching at the thought of saying goodbye to Mac.
‘Ashling.’ The King full-named her and it was different to when Knutr did it. It was more tender, less familial. The blond wolf stood before her with cracks in his armour and pain on his face.
His fingertips reached to brush against the key, his key, hanging from her wrist. Her voice came out soft. ‘Would you like it back?’
‘Keep it,’ he said, his large hand closing around hers. ‘You never know when you might need to find sanctuary.’
‘What about you, Mac?’ The wolves had turned on him once, they could do it again. ‘Please, take this,’ she tugged at the coin around her wrist, trying to pull it free. ‘Y
ou told me once it might offer protection. Perhaps, if you need to leave Fomor ...’
Connal’s head shook in her peripheral vision, and Mac’s hand stilled hers. ‘The coin was only ever meant to be worn by one man, but thank you, Ashling.’
‘No,’ she pressed, ‘I’m the one who should be thanking you.’
His head was shaking. She pulled at the end of his braid and reined him to a stop. ‘No, listen. You didn’t have to come. You could have left me to them. You didn’t have to go against your pack, your family, for someone you’ve known only a few weeks.’ He was frowning, the pads of his fingers playing over the trail of veins in her wrist. She let him, her hand fisting his braid. ‘But I’m really grateful that you did.’
‘I had to.’ The proud wolf she’d known in Fomor, the leader, the ruler, the pain in the ass, had lost all his arrogance. Dejection was written in the tense lines of his body, and yet he vibrated with power and purpose.
His eyes hit anywhere but her and Ash tugged his hair again to get his attention.
‘Thank you, MacTire.’ Affection was carved out plainly on her face. ‘For everything.’
She was acutely aware of Connal watching them from the corner of his eye, his body half-turned to afford them some privacy. Her heart swelled with love for her Big Bad and Mac seemed to sense it. He stepped back, piercing her with his black-as-sin eyes as he let his fingers drift from her skin.
‘I will see you again,’ Mac said. ‘In spite of all Fite’s barking, you are welcome in Fomor any time. I’ll just have to leash him more securely.’ There was that smirk, arrogance bleeding into his features. She laughed.
‘Yes, you will,’ Ash replied, ‘and you have to bring Knutr up to see me, so ...’ So we’ll see each other again.
The King brushed a kiss to her knuckles and released her, tilting his head towards Connal. ‘Brother,’ Mac said. A tic twitched in Connal’s jaw, but he didn’t correct the title. ‘We still have a truce, yes? You won’t be hunting my men off the streets?’
‘If they behave, I won’t have to.’ He shoved a hand through the dark, ragged cut of his hair. ‘I don’t want to.’
Mac nodded. ‘I’ll take that. Truce?’ The King’s hand stuck out between their bodies and Connal took his forearm in a firm hold.
‘Truce.’ Connal agreed, shaking himself free of Mac’s hold. Ash caught a look of uncertainty on his face that drew her to move up beside him. She ran her fingers under his shirt, soothing circles to the small of his back, where the muscles were tensed harder than steel.
As the King backed towards the conduit, his coal eyes drank her up, taking her deep, unblinking, like he was going blind and she was the last thing he wanted to remember in perfect detail. Ash’s hand lifted in a small wave, her throat tight, and his lips curved. He bowed, and then, MacTire, like his brothers before him, surged into the conduit and vanished from the earth.
HAPPILY EVER AFTER?
Backs to the lockers, eyes on the swirling black water of the conduit, Ash and Connal waited out the last minutes of the full moon. The basement was eerily quiet without the bustle of wolves filling it. Even the longing cries of the thralls outside the door had died to silence. Ash’s ass was numb from the cold floor. She was ready to slump in exhaustion when Connal drew her down, laying himself out as a mattress between her and the hard tile. Ash covered him and tucked herself in, her hands gliding under his shirt to stroke his warmth. He exhaled a contented purr, strong arms banding her to his chest. She was never letting him go. Here, like this, close and so together, was how they were supposed to be. Distance wasn’t an option. He made her heart beat in tandem with the steady thud of his, he made her blood surge with life, he was the bones of her and if the moon waned and her grandmother left them to die, at least she wouldn’t be forced to live without him. Ash sighed and burrowed in.
She felt her muscles go lax. A deep fatigue crawled over her and laid heavy down her spine. It pinned her limbs and added weight to every movement until even breathing had a pressure to it. It had crept up on her. First, she’d merely been tired, but now, she was hooked up to an energy drain and her strength was leaching away into the atmosphere. What the ...?
‘Connal?’ Her fingers wouldn’t curl; they were flat and spread out on his ribs. She couldn’t grip him.
‘Hmmm?’ He sounded miles away and, close as she was, she didn’t have the energy to reach him.
The first tremble was merely a shiver. She cast it off as the taint of panic working through her system. The second shook her head to toe. Her skin quivered, her nerves on a Magic Finger bed, taking her body in a fit of uncontrollable shaking.
‘Oh God, Connal, this doesn’t feel right. I don’t feel right.’ Maybe the Morrígan’s curse would take them after all. Maybe she really had lied.
‘It’s just the waning moon, Ash. Nothing to fear. It will pass.’ Connal’s deep voice was a soothing rumble beneath her and she forced herself to relax into the quakes, concentrating on the inhale-exhale of his breathing.
‘Why is this happening to me?’ she asked.
‘It’s a withdrawal. The opposite to the quickening you felt when the moon was rising.’
‘Full-moon DT’s?’ Ash laughed through chattering teeth and the amusement was warped.
‘I’m shaking too. See?’
He was. When she focussed beyond her own tremoring body, she could feel it. Her frustrated breath skipped over his collarbone. ‘I have so much to learn. Everything’s happened so fast.’ She was Dorothy in the hurricane, all spun about and landing in a different world. She still had trouble wrapping her head around the fact that her nightmares were real and she was a mythical monster, in love with another mythical monster.
Bristling stubble and warm lips seared a kiss to her jaw, sealing promises to her skin. ‘I will teach you everything I know,’ he murmured.
She nodded, turning to intercept his nuzzling path and capture his mouth with hers. ‘Yes, Connal.’ Ash sucked at his bottom lip. ‘We have forever, right? We get to grow old as dirt, together.’ Excitement thrilled through her, so strong she couldn’t feel the shakes over the buzz. Happily Ever After was a fairytale, but if werewolves and goddesses were real, why not that too? She was brimming with hope.
‘You are Fomorian now, as I am. Semi-divine blood can live for millennia, potentially.’
There was something different in his voice that she couldn’t place. She pushed her palms against his ribs and lifted herself up, getting them eye to eye. Her strength was slowly seeping back. Ash smiled and crinkled her nose tenderly to his. ‘I get to spend eternity with you, Big Bad.’
She was met with silence.
Insecurity prodded at her and she sat up, resting her ass on his thighs. Connal seemed less than enthused about a future spent together. Ash’s skin burned with embarrassment. Flustered, she was back-pedalling to clamber off him. God, had she sounded that pushy? Or maybe he could see the plans she had, the dreams in her head that had them shacked up with a litter of wolfhound puppies. Setty would have liked that. She scrambled to reassure him. ‘If that’s what you want, I mean. I’m really untidy, and I sing loudly in the shower and I ...’
He had her wrists pinned and her body trapped between his thighs before she could completely pull away. One hand cupping the side of her face, Connal’s eyes were dark with passion, metallic grey and intense. ‘For as long as you are insane enough to want me, Little Red, I am never letting go.’
Beaming a smile, her fingers carded into his hair and she hauled him close. ‘That is a happily ever after I can live with.’ They fit together seamlessly, her mouth melting over his lips, yielding and demanding. She played her tongue in a dance with his, teased her teeth on the soft flesh of his lower lip. Ash would never get enough of kissing him. The taste of him was a masculine rush, consuming her senses. They pulled back, foreheads touching and their breaths rasped in the space between them.
‘That’s assuming we can avoid any number of violent ends,’ Connal murmured. �
�No Fomorian in history has cheated death much beyond a thousand years.’
He was being Worst-Case-Scenario-Guy and she scowled, laying her fist into his shoulder.
He grinned at her.
Ash rolled her eyes and took his grin in a rough kiss. ‘Then we shall be the first, she said. ‘There is a first for everything. Nobody is hunting us now. Mac is on our side. Plus, we have my grandmother’s protection.’
Connal lost the smile and stiffened, just the slightest change, but she was wrapped around him like a second skin, and it translated through.
Ash frowned. ‘You meant what you said to Mac, right? She’s not still going to insist you hunt them down, is she?’ She hadn’t considered the price Connal had to pay for their freedom. She was considering it now, with a huge dose of foreboding on the side.
‘No. My guard-dog services are no longer required.’ He intertwined their fingers and pulled her up from the floor as the thegn arrived, laden down with fresh piles of clothing. A thegn to a locker, the wolves’ basement was being restocked. ‘We should go,’ Connal said.
They trekked through the club and, as dawn broke, they were leaving, along with the small crowd of thralls doing the walk of shame. Streaked make-up, torn clothes and well-used bodies, the group drifted apart, finding their bearings through the disorientation of a full moon hangover. Connal led her in the direction of her grandmother’s house and she fell into step beside him. The street-cleaning trucks and delivery vans were out, but otherwise the town was deserted.
‘Those poor girls. What happens to them after the full moon?’ Ash asked.
Connal’s thumb smoothed over her knuckles and her step picked up. Like this, she could pretend they were just another couple, walking through the peace of the early morning. If it weren’t for the conversation.
‘They return to a semblance of life,’ Connal told her, ‘some manage to hold down jobs, or drift through college, but their motivational drives are all focussed on the next hit of the full moon. They become emotionally distant from their families and friends.’