Highland Hunger Bundle with Yours for Eternity & Highland Beast

by Hannah Howell

He kissed down to the full roundness at the underside of her breast and felt her fingers dig into his shoulders in frustration. When he began to chuckle, Kenna growled. “You mean to tease me, then?”

  “Aye,” he breathed, just before he licked a slow circle around her rose pink nipple.

  Her breath hissed between her teeth.

  “Aye, I mean to tease you.” He touched his tongue to the pebbled peak, wetting it just enough to draw it tighter. He circled it again.

  “Oh,” she moaned. “Finlay, please.” She didn’t wait for his generosity, though. Kenna simply wound her fingers into his hair and pulled him to her.

  He obliged, sucking hard at the peak until her groan turned from frustration to joy.

  He’d thought her arousal enticing before. But now he was so close to her, and her sex so wet, that he soon found himself too distracted to tease any longer. Setting his hands to her thighs, he eased her legs open and dragged his mouth down her belly.

  “Ah, God,” she moaned, arching back. Her thighs shook.

  Had it been years for her as it had for him? It must have been. When his mouth touched her sex, she jumped as if a spark had landed on her skin.

  This he could not take his time with. It seemed his mouth had watered for her taste forever, so Finlay sank his tongue deep, thrilling at the sound of her cry.

  He lapped at her, swallowing her taste, then he traced the lines of her sex before settling in at that hard nub that made her sob. Her restless legs rubbed his shoulders until he curved his arms beneath her thighs to spread her wider.

  “Finlay,” she breathed. “Finlay.”

  What power, to feel her body shake and strain at his kiss. To hear her call his name in pleasure. Her heels dug into his back as if she could pull closer.

  “I…canna…” she panted. Her thighs tightened and her moans turned to whimpers. “Please.”

  And then she was screaming and shaking, her sex hot and wet against his mouth. When she quieted, he pressed kisses to her thighs and drank her in with his eyes. If this was the only time, he wanted to remember the sight of her sex, swollen with lust for him.

  She had barely gotten her panting under control when she said, “More now.”

  Finlay found himself grinning with delight as he rose to his feet. “More?”

  “Oh, aye. More.”

  “All right then, lass.” He reached for his thick belt.

  Eyes gleaming, Kenna rose to her elbows and watched him, a smile starting small on her mouth before spreading wider.

  “A moment,” he murmured. “It’d be a sad thing if I didn’t memorize the picture you present.”

  Kenna glanced down at her naked body, her thighs still spread and open to him. “You canna embarrass me, Finlay MacLain. I’m too well pleased to care.”

  “And that’s a beautiful thing.” His clumsy fingers finally freed the belt. It clunked to the ground and his plaid fell free.

  “My God,” Kenna sighed. “So is that.”

  She shocked him into a laugh, but her hot look soon chased his amusement away.

  He’d thought his cock as hard as it could get, but her gaze proved him wrong. He throbbed as she rose to her knees and backed farther onto the bed.

  “Come now, man,” she said. “I mean to ride you.”

  “Lord,” he huffed, shocked despite the lust that exploded through him.

  She simply cocked an eyebrow and waited. What could he do but lay himself down? He half expected her to laugh and cover her face in embarrassment, but true to her word, Kenna climbed atop him.

  Her sex pressed into his throbbing cock, and when she leaned close to kiss him, her breasts brushed over his chest. Finlay curved his hand behind her neck and held her to him, her hot body hardly any weight at all atop him. She was so wet that she slipped over his shaft as she moved, setting white light flashing behind his eyes.

  This was more than he’d hoped for. He’d thought he’d be able to seduce her if he put his mind to it, but he’d never imagined that she would climb atop him and take what she wanted. Though she seemed content to take naught but kisses at this moment. His hands strayed to her hips and eased her up.

  “Mm,” she purred and rubbed her sex slow against him.

  “You weren’t lying, lass,” he groaned. “You’ve definitely got the skills of a widow.”

  Her laughter made her shake quite delightfully against him. “Wait ’til I lose my shyness, Laird MacLain.”

  Her hair flew back as she pushed herself up, resting her hands against his chest. When her neck arched, Finlay became suddenly aware of his fangs, and they throbbed in response at being remembered.

  Laughter forgotten, he let his gaze wander from the dark curls of her sex to her belly and breasts and pale, delicate neck. Her smile faded, and she let his hands lift her hips.

  When he felt his cock notch into her sex, Finlay pushed his hips up and eased hers down. Tightness. Heat. Kenna’s body took him in. Finally. Finally.

  Her nails dug into his chest. “Wait,” she breathed. “Wait.”

  Wait, he told his hands. They shook with the need to defy him.

  She eased up, then down again, slipping a little lower. “You’re so big,” she breathed. “Go slow.”

  And how was he to control himself now? His fangs descended. He eased her up and down, up and down, until finally he slid as deep as he could go and Kenna’s panting turned to a moan.

  “Yes,” she urged. “Oh, yes.” Her sex squeezed him as she raised up and then took him hard and deep.

  “Jesus, lass.” He ground his teeth hard together.

  “It’s been so long,” she panted. “You’ve no idea.” She rolled her hips as she moved, so that the up and down became one long movement that never ended. The constant assault of pleasure glowed through him, as if the sun shone on his body for the first time in fifty years.

  It was all he could feel. The heat of her, the slide. His heartbeat filled his ears.

  No, not his heartbeat. Hers. Thumping like a war drum calling up his bloodlust.

  “Ah, God,” he growled.

  She rode him faster, her pulse speeding to meet her excitement as he slid his hands from her hips to her breasts. He could see her pulse now, beating just beneath her jaw. Pressure built at the base of his cock. His fangs pushed out to their full length as he gently pinched her nipples.

  Kenna tossed her head back, gasping. Her neck was stretched so long…

  Desperate with need, Finlay wrapped his arms around her and flipped her to her back without drawing even an inch out of her body.

  “Oh!” she cried, though her shock didn’t prevent her from wrapping her legs around his hips.

  “If you need a man,” he muttered, “then you shall have one.” He drove deep and fast, sinking himself in her tightness.

  “Aye,” she moaned, as he took her hard. “Aye.”

  But the harder he had her, the more he wanted. Her heels dug into his arse, as if she wished for more, too. Her face turned away, exposing that beating place.

  “Kenna,” he growled, and opened his mouth over her neck.

  She tensed beneath him, as if she’d suddenly remembered that he wasn’t just a man, but he’d heard the faint scrape of his fangs against her skin, and Finlay was lost.

  He sank his fangs deep, and her blood filled his mouth.

  “Ah!” she screamed, her spine arching as the sound twisted from pain to ecstasy. The taste of her was pure and thick in her blood, and it washed over him, through him, into him as he swallowed. Power filled him, tightening his bollocks.

  Her moaning started soft, each breath getting louder as he slowed his thrusts, drawing them out as he sucked gently at her neck. He shifted above her, so that his shaft rubbed rough against her with every draw of his mouth.

  “Ah, Finlay,” she moaned. Her sex squeezed him. “Finlay.” Just as her body began to stiffen, he sank his fangs deeper, and her voice rose to a scream as her hips jerked against his. Aye. Aye, she was his.

  Fin
lay let go of his control and followed her down into that bright oblivion, his own shout muffled by her throat. There was nothing besides Kenna. Nothing in the world but his body inside hers and her blood in his mouth.

  Kenna.

  As soon as the waves of pleasure abated, he gently freed her neck and let his forehead collapse to the bed beside her. It seemed to take all his strength to support his weight above her.

  His body was heavier than it had been…as if something hollow had been filled up.

  Chapter Six

  She was the same woman she’d been the day before. She must be.

  And yet she felt utterly different.

  Kenna touched a hand to the sore spot on her neck, the place where Finlay had taken her blood. She should feel weak. She’d been injured. Her sex felt as tender as her neck, and she was almost certain Finlay had left bruises on her hips with his desperate hold.

  But despite the loss of blood and the tender places that made themselves known when she stretched, Kenna glowed. Her body hummed. And her soul felt years younger. Nearly as young as she actually was.

  She stretched again, and felt Finlay’s hand close over hers.

  “Are you ill, lass?”

  “Nay,” she answered with a smile, snuggling deeper into the bedcovers. She pulled his hand over her hip and felt him turn to press into her back. Ice seemed to cover her skin.

  “Och!” she yelped, scooting away from him. Frightened, she swung around and pressed her hand to his chest. “Finlay, you’re frozen!”

  “My apologies. I did not mean to frighten you.” His face stiffened.

  “What’s the matter?” she cried.

  “Nothing. We are just…I must have kicked the linens off and our flesh cools easily in the air.”

  “But…” She watched as he slipped out the other side of the bed. His buttocks flexed with fascinating rhythm as he rounded the bed and approached the dead hearth. “Does that not hurt you?”

  “Nay.”

  He crouched to the task, and soon had a cheerful fire crackling. “I’ll warm soon enough,” he muttered. “But I must leave you regardless. The king awaits.”

  “Right now?” she asked, not bothering to hide her disappointment. It seemed to cheer him, though, for his scowl turned immediately to a smile.

  “I’m afraid so. But it shan’t take long.”

  “No?”

  He pulled on his leine, hiding his bonny nakedness. “No. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Good.” She was sore, but she meant to have more of him while she could.

  He began to fold his plaid around him. “I’ll send a girl with bread and ale to break your fast.”

  She watched him dress, satisfaction swelling her heart. It felt good to watch a man ready himself for the day. And it felt wondrous to lounge about and sigh over the sight of him. It hadn’t been marriage itself she’d enjoyed so much, after all. The marriage had been a burden. It had been the physical pleasure that came with it that she’d loved, the feel and touch and taste of a man.

  Finlay had said he could not offer her marriage, but perhaps she wanted no more than a good, long while in his bed.

  “I’ll return soon,” he said, crossing the room to kiss her forehead. She considered pulling him down for more, but his eyes were already distant, thinking ahead to his audience with the king.

  “Have a care,” she warned, but as he unbolted the door, his arm flexed, distracting her into a sigh. And Kenna realized she had best take care herself.

  “Sire.” Finlay bowed low, leg outstretched, eyes pointed toward the ground. He could smell the fear coming off the other members of the king’s audience. They all wanted something and feared the king’s judgment. Finlay was the only one with nothing to lose.

  “Laird MacLain,” the king muttered with an irritated glance toward the archway. Guthrie stood there, arms crossed and eyes glaring at Finlay. “You have not pleased me. I have had need of you these many months now, and you have declined my invitations.”

  “My apologies, Sire. As you know, my clan has suffered great hardship, and I hesitated to separate myself from my home.”

  “Even for your king?”

  “I am here, Sire.”

  “Yes.” His eyes slanted toward Guthrie. “Though I am not sure why you are suddenly filled with eagerness. I mean to enjoy your company here at court for quite a while.”

  Finlay managed to bite back a curse.

  “I have need of your special…strengths.”

  “I have no particular strengths, Sire.”

  He cocked his head, eyes narrowing. “On the contrary, Laird MacLain, I am quite convinced you do. I am told you live alone. How is it that a solitary man can hold his land with no mischief from his neighbors?”

  “I am not alone.”

  “No? Who are your clansmen, then?”

  He had no answer to that. He’d had no clansmen for fifty years. No men or women or bairns. Most had been killed. The others had fled and burned their homes down behind them in an attempt to break the curse that had fallen over them.

  “You’ve a pact with the Devil,” the king said.

  “Nay.”

  “And,” he went on as if Finlay hadn’t spoken, “you’ve a way to make men come ’round to your opinion. Guthrie, for example.”

  At the edge of his vision, Finlay saw the way Guthrie’s fists twitched.

  “He was adamant that I let you cool your heels. ‘He is arrogant,’ he said. ‘He has disobeyed you.’ And then this morning, he comes to attend me, insisting that I must see you immediately. He was quite urgent.”

  “I spoke to him last even’.”

  “Aye, you did. Quite convincingly. Yet Guthrie only responds well to obsequiousness, and you do not strike me as the type to bow your head to the likes of him.”

  Guthrie’s heartbeat sped and the scent of his anger reached Finlay’s nose. Perhaps the king was a vampire, too, because he bellowed, “Leave us!” and the crowd of petitioners and courtiers snapped to attention. A moment passed, and then they all filed out. Only a guard remained, his eyes sharp and impassive all at once.

  “Even if your skill was granted by Satan himself, your duty is to Scotland, Laird MacLain.”

  He felt a twinge of guilt at the words. He did have a duty to his country, regardless of whether he was man or vampire.

  “I canna fight England’s greed on my own. I need the support of all Scots.”

  “Aye. Of course.” His guilt formed a stone in his gut. If the king asked, could he help keep the English in check? Would this be a way to help make amends for the many wrongs he’d done? Perhaps…Perhaps after he killed Jean, this would give him another purpose. A reason to keep going despite his weariness.

  “The MacKenzie clan is being needlessly stubborn,” the king muttered. “I have need of more land on the coast, and they refuse to give it, even for the sake of their king.”

  “The MacKenzies.” Finlay’s heart, which had begun to rouse itself with pride for his country, sank like a stone.

  “Aye, and Fergus Stewart is not much better. His youngest daughter has caught the eye of my uncle. Stewart says his daughter is already promised to a cousin and he will not break the betrothal. Can you imagine? Defying his king over a fifteen-year-old girl’s supposed love? It’s damn near traitorous, I tell you.”

  Finlay closed his eyes and drew a deep breath. “You’d like me to convince Stewart to give his lass to your uncle.”

  “Aye. But the MacKenzies first. They are here at court, so it should take little effort. I want that land, MacLain. For the sake of Scotland, of course.”

  Right. Land. Alliances. Intrigue and power. Stirling Castle never changed. He could have stood here fifty years ago and had the same conversation with that king.

  “And Alistair Bruce,” the king muttered. “Does he think me blind? It’s clear he’s had dealings with the Irish behind my back.”

  Finlay could find no more purpose here than he’d found in the crumbling remains
of his home. The king did not want him to use his powers against the English queen; James was too busy expanding his influence in Scotland.

  “Sire,” Finlay said. “I’m afraid you are mistaken. I have nothing to offer you.”

  The king’s eyes narrowed. “You’d best reconsider, Laird MacLain. Your land may not be valuable, but it is subject to my power all the same. And it is well known that you are”—he swallowed and rubbed a hand across the back of his neck—“associated with…” His sharp eyes clouded and he looked up at Finlay in confusion. “What were you saying?”

  He had not wanted to do this. He’d avoided Stirling for months just so he would not feel a traitor. Still, he narrowed his eyes and pushed his thoughts straight out. “I’m afraid you were mistaken, Sire. I have no special hold over men’s minds. My presence offers no benefit for you or the crown. And while my clan is small and ragged, we have no trouble raising taxes or holding the land. You are better served to send me back to MacLain Castle.”

  “I see,” he murmured. His face softened with concern. “You are right, of course. You had best return. There is never any trouble from the MacLains, which is more than I can say for half the families in Scotland.”

  “Thank you, Sire,” Finlay said with a bow. It brought a man low to use his liege so. To know that a king was just a man, after all.

  “Guthrie!” the king shouted. The door opened before his voice had ceased to echo. “You were wise to argue Laird MacLain’s case this morning. He has served us well at Castle MacLain, and must return as soon as he is able.”

  Guthrie’s eyes widened with alarm. “Your Majesty, did he injure you?”

  “Of course not, you fool. Escort him out. We are done here.”

  Guthrie’s worry was so evident that Finlay could not doubt the man’s genuine affection for his king, but unfortunately that affection turned to glittering rage when he gestured Finlay toward the door.

  “What did you do to him?” he hissed.

  “I canna know what you mean.”

  “You snuck inside his head!”

  Rumors and legends could only make his life more difficult. He did not need an enemy at court. He did not need to be noticed at all. Unfortunately, he’d already twisted Guthrie’s mind once and there was a good chance it wouldn’t work again.