by Lucy Monroe
Well, he knew her, but she insisted their time together was limited.
As the power of the mating ceremony swelled around the Chrechte in the cavern his personal confusion increased.
How could she hope to deny him the future their natures destined? How could she withhold children, companionship, intimacy? Did she care nothing for the losses they would both suffer if she tried to leave him?
He would not let her do it.
No matter what she thought she had to do, he would not let his mate abandon their sacred bond.
Barr waited for the weight of the silence to grow heavy with meaning before speaking the final Chrechte blessing on the couple, as pack alpha, and leading the others out of the cave.
Earc would couple with Verica and their joining would be the final act in a mating that only death would sunder.
Barr envied his second, but did not begrudge the other man his future contentment. Earc was more than deserving of the gift Heaven had chosen to bestow on him.
Barr refused to believe he was not equally as deserving.
Instinct drove him to shift into the wolf and he raced through the forest, not toward the keep, but away from it.
It took some time and careful tracking with his wolf’s senses, but he found the spot in the forest where he had first come upon his mate. He sniffed at the leaves and grass, the trace scent of his mate and her spilled blood almost gone from the spot. He snuffled at the earth and then turned in an agitated circle before dropping to curl into the earth where she had lain.
Verica felt the press of spiritual power as her Chrechte brethren exited the cave. She heard the others leave, but did not watch them go, her eyes fixed firmly on her new mate.
Earc watched her with a hunger she feared she would not be able to satiate. Her desire for him was very strong, but the voracious need emanating from him was all warrior wolf and so powerful it was a living presence between them.
“You look worried, mate,” he said softly.
She nodded, her throat too dry to speak.
He cupped her face in his big hands. “What has you so concerned?”
“I don’t know how to do this.”
“This?” he asked, looking almost amused.
She frowned, tugging the fur farther up her body. “Yes, this.”
He pulled on the fur; it slipped before she could grab it again. Her breasts were exposed, her nipples hardening immediately in the cool night air.
One of his hands slid down to curl over her rounded flesh and his golden brown gaze flashed with arousal, the wolf a shadow in his irises. “This …” He hefted her generous curve and brushed one thumb over her nipple, sending pleasure arrowing directly to her womb. “This is beautiful.”
She could not speak past the lump in her throat. She had never thought to have a mate, but if she had ever allowed herself to fantasize about even having a husband, it would not have been a man so amazing. A man whose strength could be trusted, a man who protected others at cost to himself, a man who stirred her like no other.
Because she had never known one before Earc came to live with her clan.
Watching her as closely as a parent did a babe taking its first steps, he squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “So beautiful.”
“I am not so special.”
“You are.” Sincerity lent his husky tones an almost harsh edge.
He caressed her breast, his big hand so gentle, she wanted to weep. And so much more. It sent shivers of pleasure through her that she had not known she could feel.
His nostrils flared as heated wetness formed between her legs.
She nuzzled into his hand, her own wolf craving the connection, her raven seeking that affectionate touch against her neck and head.
His eyes flared with something warm and tender and he leaned forward to rub his raspy cheek against her smooth one. The fragrance of their mingled scents surrounded them, making her feel safe in a way she had not since her da did not return from his last illfated hunt.
Earc’s hands on her body added to more than her sensual pleasure. Each caress enhanced the sense that she was no longer alone, no longer solely responsible for her brother’s welfare, no longer required to watch over her shoulder as well as what was before her.
Because this man, this wolf, who had claimed her for mate, would protect her from what might try to sneak up from behind.
An image of Earc standing before her, sword in hand, came into her mind and she knew it did not come from her. He was affirming the fact she was his to protect now, just as he was hers.
She didn’t try to tell him so; she was no warrior, but there were other ways to protect someone. She’d been keeping her brother from his enemies for the years since their mother’s death.
That job was now Barr and Earc’s responsibility. The sense of freedom and relief that realization gave her was so great, it made her light-headed. She swayed in Earc’s hold.
He pulled back, his golden brown eyes boring into hers. “What is amiss?”
“Nothing.” Joy flowed over her in an unstoppable wave. “Everything is finally coming right.”
A smile curved his gorgeous mouth. “Aye, it is right.”
Her happiness bubbled forth in laughter. “I’m going to like being your mate, I think.”
“Without doubt.”
She shook her head at his arrogance. “I am glad to no longer be alone.”
“You have had your brother, have you not?”
“I had to protect him, protect our birthright, alone.”
“Now, ’tis Barr’s and my responsibility.”
“That is exactly what I was thinking.”
“You were thinking about your brother while I kissed you?” Earc asked, sounding none too pleased by the prospect.
“It was all part of my newfound joy.”
“You find happiness in my arms.”
“Not as much as I plan to,” she admitted boldly.
His grin fell away as a feral expression took over his features just before his lips closed over hers again. This kiss was one wolf claiming another, nothing held back and yet, he was not rough with her.
His lips demanded a response; his tongue tasted and insisted she return the tasting; his hand on her breast slid down to touch her most intimate flesh as his mouth staked the mating claim.
The scent of her feminine arousal blossomed to a strong fragrance as he brought forth more wetness from her heated depths. He touched a spot that made her body go rigid with excitement. He did it again and she cried out against his demanding lips.
A dark laugh sounded between them, but it was not coming from his mouth. She went absolutely still. The laughter sounded again, this time exultant.
And then his voice inside her head. Aye, you are my true mate and none will ever take you from me.
I thought we had to … Her mental voice failed before she could finish.
She could feel his shrug, though his body had not moved. Chrechte magic does as it likes.
She had no answer for that. Her mum used to say the same when her touch healed one clan member and not another.
All thoughts fled as Earc’s hands on Verica’s body built her pleasure to a near-terrifying precipice. Her fear mixed with the overwhelming delight and he soothed her with mental images of her body being cradled against his in perfect safety. “It is all right, my precious one. Jump off the cliff; I will catch you.”
She did, releasing the rigid control on her muscles. Her body convulsed in a cataclysm of sensation so overpowering, she could not think, could not move, could not speak; she could only feel and what she felt was the most amazing and delightful experience of her life.
Her womb convulsed, her core throbbed and bursts of light exploded behind her eyelids. Her wolf howled; her raven trilled in a way a real raven would not and her human woman simply screamed her pleasure. She was still shaking with the joy of it when he lay her back and came over the top of her, his hard member pressed against the open
ing to her body.
“We are one,” he said in Chrechte.
“Always to be,” she replied in a panting voice.
He surged inside. Pain blossomed and she bucked against him, trying to throw him off. He would not be moved, but his eyes filled with regret. “I would have avoided the pain of breaching your maidenhead if I could.”
She believed him, despite the sense of utter satisfaction covering him.
He shifted and she whimpered. He went absolutely motionless, his every muscle rigid with the effort. “Tell me when I can move.”
“Next year mayhap.”
“I am not laughing.”
“Neither am I.”
“I do not want to hurt you.”
“I can see that you don’t.”
His face was contorted with a pain easily equal to hers, though of a very different nature. But his body did not move.
“You are overlarge maybe.”
“Chrechte men are not small.”
“Then you might think Chrechte females would be created to accommodate them,” she said in a strained voice as her body continued to fight the pain of his initial invasion.
“You are.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“My da and my brothers.”
“Hah. All males.” What did they know?
“Do you trust me?” Earc demanded in a tone she could not ignore.
She stared up into his gaze. “Yes.”
“Relax your body.”
“You’ll move.”
“I won’t.”
She wanted to ask him to promise, but knew he would find such lack of trust a direct negation of what she had just said.
I will not move, he said, using their true bond connection, his voice growling with the honesty of his wolf.
She willed her body to release its tension. Unbelievably, as she relaxed the burning pain between her legs began to subside.
True to his word, even though her body no longer fought his presence, Earc did not attempt to thrust deeper.
As her tension eased, the profound reality of having him inside her struck Verica. “You are a part of me,” she whispered.
“Yes.” His voice was harsh with his effort not to move.
“It is wonderful.”
“It hurts you.”
“It did, but it is still wonderful.”
“Did?”
She swallowed but nodded infinitesimally. “It is not so bad now.”
“Can I move?” His own voice was barely a whisper this time.
The burning had dulled so she could once again feel the pleasure. When he had promised her he would catch her when she jumped off that terrifying precipice of pleasure, he had done exactly that, holding her while she flew for the first time out of her raven form. She could trust him to turn this pain to renewed delight.
Besides, her wolf was so close to the surface, if they didn’t do something soon, she’d be howling. “Yes.”
He pulled out, just a little, and then pressed forward, his rigid length filling her so completely their connection was both fully physical and uncompromisingly spiritual as well. This was the true Chrechte mating and he had been right, not being in the sacred caves did not matter. She felt the presence of their Chrechte magic all around them.
This union was blessed.
She arched upward and gasped as pleasure sparked a fire of need inside her. It blazed out of control as they moved together, building the heat of their joining so even her raven and wolf felt singed.
And then that ultimate pinnacle came into view again, her body striving toward it with mindless need.
As they climaxed together, she saw his wolf and him both. She blinked, but the image did not shift. She had no choice but to simply accept as her body surpassed even the earlier moment of completion to the point she was barely lucid.
He curled her into his body as they slipped into sleep and she heard him whisper against her hair, “Tomorrow, you will show me your raven.”
Sabrine finished her search of Rowland’s room and his things. The Clach Gealach Gra was nowhere to be found. Though she had come across a disturbing collection of raven and eagle feathers, which she took to burn in the way of her people.
She did not know of a certainty that they came from Éan, but she could not help believing the feathers were a way of counting kills. She took them to the hall and built a fire from the banked embers in the fireplace. She lay each feather on the flames, whispering the words of departing for Chrechte warriors as each one caught and was consumed by the fire.
Her heart ached as she watched evidence of the Faol’s treachery against her people disappear in the flames. Éan disappeared, never to be heard from again. How many of those she had known could be accounted for in the collection of feathers she now burned with reverence and respect?
The sound of a wolf’s nails clicking across the floor brought her head up.
She had been so intent on performing the final rite of passage for her Chrechte brethren, she had not sensed her mate’s approach. The fact he did so as a wolf and she still had not known chilled her with a deep terror she could not shake.
The giant blond wolf came toward her, his eyes filled with intelligence, with Barr. But his form was that of his Chrechte nature. The Faol. A jaw that could tear a bird in half with one well-placed bite, claws that could cut through all-too-fragile skin and feathers with an ease that sent shards of atavistic fear through her.
Even knowing this wolf was in fact her newly discovered true mate, she could not hold back her flinch as revulsion washed over her.
A low whine sounded from his throat, but he did not drop his head or look away from her.
“Your former laird was a hunter of the Éan.”
Chapter 15
Barr shook his majestic head, a low growl sounding.
But she would not let him dismiss the situation so lightly. “He may not have been your laird, but he was pack alpha of the Faol in this clan. The clan you now lead.”
Barr moved closer, his regard intent, the scent of his wolf stronger than it had ever been around her.
One part of her, the woman who had been raised to protect her people from all potential threats, but particularly the wolves among the Chrechte, demanded she move away from the danger. Her raven insisted on moving nearer her mate; she needed the man who had taught her such pleasure to show himself, and her heart and mind felt torn in two.
“Shift.” She meant to demand it, but the word came out more a plea.
You fear my wolf? he asked with their mental connection.
She shook her head, refusing to matespeak with a wolf. Didn’t he understand? In this form, he could not be her mate.
The air shimmered around them and then Barr was there in his human form. He straightened, towering over her, his expression grim. “You hate my wolf.”
She could not deny it. “The Faol has always been my enemy.”
“Not all wolves are murdering bastards like Rowland.”
She looked down at the last feather in her hand; it was from a raven. “He killed many in their bird form and more as humans. It is not something I can forget.” Not ever. He had not killed her parents, his scent had been wrong, but he had no doubt been cohort to the ones that had.
“He had nothing to do with me.”
“He was laird here before you. You shared your table with him for more than a month.”
Barr’s scowl darkened, but guilt shadowed his eyes. “I did not know he was a murderer.”
“You knew he was wicked.”
“There are wicked among all people, human and Chrechte alike.” He looked at her as if expecting agreement.
She was in no mood to be agreeable. “None so wicked as the Faol.”
An inexplicable sense of guilt pricked her as the words fell between them and his anger spiked along with unmistakable hurt.
“Your people are so peaceful that your women train as warriors.” This time his mocking tone dared her to d
isagree with him.
“I became a warrior after my parents were murdered by the wolves you would call friend.”
“I never called Rowland friend and well you know it. None that I call friend would hunt another Chrechte without cause.”
“They believe they have cause.”
“Why?”
“That is not my question to answer.”
“You know more than I do of this unacceptable feud. Tell me what you know.”
She found she could not deny him. “They despise the raven for being a carrion bird, or so I have heard. But they kill the eagle among us as well, so who is to say why they truly wish us gone?”
He thought for a moment, as if contemplating that very thing. As if he thought she truly wanted an answer.
When in fact the why had ceased to matter a long time ago.
He shrugged his magnificent shoulders, drawing attention to the naked body he found so comfortable. Despite their argument and the way her rejection of his wolf had hurt him, his member was thickened and almost erect.
She yanked her gaze from his manhood, but not before his quirked lips told her he had noticed her interest.
She frowned.
He winked and then sobered. “Mayhap they fear you.”
She remembered the look on Wirp’s face at the wedding when she gave him the image of her ancestor the dragon to gaze upon and thought perhaps Barr had the right of it, but then again, maybe not. “All Chrechte have more to fear from humans, who outnumber our kind so vastly we must hide among them.”
“Aye, but the special gifts the Éan have because of their Chrechte nature are a thing that might inspire envy and envy can move to hate with the blink of an eye.”
“So, you understand these murderers who would continue the decimation of my people until we are gone?”
Barr’s eyes darkened and he shifted closer until she could feel the heat of his body. “I dinna say that. I merely speculated the reason behind their hatred might well be envy and fear, no matter what they claim to the contrary.”
Despite herself, she nodded. She’d long suspected that to be the case, but the claims made by the Faol that the Éan were not worthy to be Chrechte had long plagued her people.