The Pack Rules Boxed Set: The Complete Series of Wolf, Bear, and Dragon Shifter Romances

by Michele Bardsley

  His hands covered hers, and he lowered the cloth she grasped in her hands. She blinked up at him, confused. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t, my love.”

  Her brows rose as she posed an impertinent question about his virility with her eyes, not daring to voice the thought aloud.

  A dull flush rose from his neck to color his cheeks. “My sword will always be strong enough to impale you, wife.”

  “If you say so, my lord. But as you’re so fond of pointin’ out, actions speak louder than words.” She flounced away, twitching her hips. Mere seconds passed before he caught her arm and whirled her around, his playful growl sending shivers to her very core.

  Her hand dipped to his cock, but he captured her fingers and nibbled on them one at a time. He backed her toward the wall as she kissed the strong column of his neck, the rough line of his jaw, the dip in his chin. Breathing in his scent, she moaned.

  “Áillen.” His name rushed from her lips. Heat assailed her, burning through her blood like wildfire. This time, when she reached for his manhood, he didn’t stay her hand. She freed his cock from the odd trousers. He sucked in a sharp breath as she encircled the smooth, warm flesh. His length jerked against her palm.

  He tipped her chin so that she would look at him. “I want you so much.” His disappointed sigh skittered across her cheek. He gently removed her hand. “We must wait, Clíona.”

  Clíona puzzled over his words. She understood on an instinctive level that something between them wasn’t quite right. Panic wormed into her heart. She grabbed his hands and held them close to her chest. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing we can’t fix, love. I promise.”

  SHANNON SHOOK HER head. She sat on a rather uncomfortable couch that faced the huge portrait of Áillen and Clíona. She cradled her head as a dull ache crept across her skull.

  “Are you okay, Shannon?” Aiden’s voice was thick with emotion. She lifted her head to look at him. Aiden didn’t look like a man who feared. Yet, there, in his gaze, she saw true terror and the shadow of guilt.

  “What happened?”

  “You fainted.”

  “I did?”

  She remembered touching the frame—and then everything had gone dark.

  “I think you should rest,” said Aiden. “Take the day. Take two. You’ll need to be in shape to start the dig.” He hesitated. “There are some conditions, Shannon—a few may sound odd.” He looked away from her steady stare, focusing on the portrait of Áillen and Clíona. “I’ll need you to begin the dig in two days’ time. Exactly at midnight.”

  Shannon couldn’t hide her astonishment. “Why?”

  “I’m afraid I must insist.” He took her hand and held it cupped within his own. “Do you—can you agree to this?”

  Shannon didn’t even have to think about it. She wouldn’t lose her chance at a lifetime dream because of a few quirky details. “Yes,” she said. “Of course.”

  Relief entered his expression. “Excellent.” He waved toward the portrait. “You seemed shocked to see the rendering of my ancestor and his wife.”

  “Why don’t you admit who they are?” she asked, her voice trembling. We are one, together in body and soul, and I give you the dragon’s promise of fealty and adoration. She’d memorized that line from one of the many variations of the myth. It had touched her deeply, and it had felt like the truth. “They’re real, aren’t they? Áillen and Clíona.”

  Aiden clutched at her hand. “There’s so much I need to—”

  “Phone call, sir.” The brittle voice of the housekeeper startled Shannon. Aiden dropped her hand and stood. Suddenly cold, Shannon wrapped her arms around herself and glanced at Mrs. Calhoun. The woman’s black eyes chilled her. “Your office, sir,” she said. “Says it’s urgent.”

  Aiden smiled and patted Shannon. “Please forgive me. I’ll return shortly.”

  “I’ll stay here and wait for you.” He nodded to her. The look in his eyes held tender regret. She resisted an insane urge to reassure him, to kiss him, to place a hand against his cheek and murmur her love. Before she could act on any of the strange impulses, Aiden left the room.

  “Might I bring you some tea, Miss?”

  “No, thank you.”

  The woman sniffed her disapproval. Shannon resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she pasted on a smile and met the woman’s dour gaze. “You don’t have to bother with me,” Shannon said, trying to be kind and less of a burden to the grumpy housekeeper. “Please feel free to attend to your other duties.”

  “Be assured, Miss. I always attend to my duties.” Her tone made the statement sound more like a threat than a reassurance. Shannon shivered and watched the woman stride toward the door. She stopped and looked over her shoulder. “My daughter’s visitin’ today. Just so you know, she and Mr. Kearney are quite close.”

  With a swish of her gray dress, she disappeared through the door.

  La-de-da. Shannon gritted her teeth. The woman sure wasn’t trying to warm up to her. Hmph. And what was this need to let her know about her daughter and Aiden? It was hardly Shannon’s business who the man spent time with.

  All the same, she felt unaccountably jealous.

  Her gaze went to the portrait—to the happy couple staring at her.

  If only they could tell her the secrets of Clonakilty.

  And Aiden Kearney.

  6

  HE ENTERED THE library, shut and locked the door, and then turned and surveyed the room. The slightly parted curtains allowed sunlight to illuminate the white dust cloths covering the furniture. The rest of the library was shrouded in darkness. A room full of ghosts. But every room in this cursed place had ghosts.

  “Are you here?” he whispered.

  “Yes.” She rose from one of the wingback chairs positioned in front of the fireplace. The shadows hid the cerulean eyes he knew so well. She was the one he had loved beyond all measure. And if things went well…she would finally belong to him.

  “Has Aiden told the woman, yet?” he asked.

  “No. We must try tonight,” she said. “Before he reveals the truth.”

  “That’s a long way from her believing anything he says.”

  “It will be enough. Trust me.”

  He walked to her and gathered her into his embrace. Her arms slid around his neck, and her lips grazed his chin. “Your waiting is almost over, my darling.” She brought his hands to her breasts and arched as he cupped them.

  He pinched her nipples hard. Her low moan thickened the hot lust already claiming him. He unbuttoned her shirt and unsnapped the front-clasp bra. He licked the tender skin of her breast until his teeth found her nipple. The light bite made her cry out.

  “I want you now.” He pulled her close so he could rub his erection on her center.

  “No.” She broke free and stepped out of his reach.

  “I weary of your games. I love you. I ache for you. What stops us from consummation?”

  She snapped her bra, buttoned her shirt, and then smoothed her hair. “You know why.”

  “Dragon’s blood. Dragon’s soul.” The words were bitter and tasted foul. Like lies. Her lies.

  “Dragon’s heart.” She leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his mouth, but her hands, her wicked, wicked hands, unzipped his pants and stroked his hard-on. Pleasure clouded his mind, crowding out the anger and frustration.

  She kneeled and took him into her mouth. Her tongue slid down his length until her hot mouth connected with his balls, licking them, wrapping eager fingers around his cock to stroke it as she sucked and licked his testicles. He felt the soft piercing of her tongue in the slit then she was taking all of him into her mouth, down her sleek, wet throat. He reveled in the feel of her tongue, her lips, her hands on his ass urging him forward.

  He never lasted against her skilled tongue. The orgasm rocked his entire body. His hands slipped into the fine silk of her hair; he held her head and fiercely came, shuddering as she drank all of him.


  She rose regally. Delicately, she dabbed at the corners of her mouth. Yes, she was, as always, the queen and he the loyal subject. He felt as if he’d been the one kneeling to her. He zipped his pants and clasped his hands to hide their trembling.

  “It’s almost over,” she said. She nodded toward the door. “You know what to do.”

  AFTER HALF AN hour, Shannon grew restless. She’d looked at all the portraits in the room—twice.

  “Aiden?” said a female voice.

  Shannon turned and watched a small, lithe woman flit into the room. Black hair framed a heart-shaped face; wide blue eyes stared guilelessly at Shannon. Who was this pixie?

  “Aiden had to take a phone call,” said Shannon. She felt rather frumpy next to this woman. Not a hair was out of place and not a wrinkle creased her black pantsuit. Her make-up merely highlighted the beauty of her face.

  The woman smiled, revealing dimples. “Aiden spends so much time in this room, I just assumed he was in here. You must be the American—Shannon, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Ah. I’m Jessica Calhoun.”

  “The housekeeper’s daughter?”

  Laughter tinkled, but the woman’s eyes narrowed a fraction. “Yes. I have known Aiden my whole life. I’m his…Erm, assistant.” She purred in a way that suggested she assisted Aiden with all his needs.

  Shannon extended her hand, shivering when Jessie’s palm slipped into hers. The pixie’s skin was as cold as ice on a winter day. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  “And how do you find the castle? Besides, drafty, old, and crumbling.” Laughter tinkled again. “I find it quite charming, even though it needs updating. Aiden is terribly sentimental.”

  Shannon did not like Jessica. Something about her cool perfection and insulting tone grated on her nerves. Or maybe it was the implication that the woman was sleeping with Aiden. Heat filled her face, and her vision blurred. Why did she feel trapped in the ether of two different lives—one intruding on the other in ways that frightened her?

  “I have every intention of claimin’ what’s mine. And I won’t abide a greedy little thief who thinks she’s clever enough to take what belongs to me!”

  Jessica’s brow furrowed, and she took a step back. “I beg your pardon?”

  “You better be beggin’ more than my pardon, missy. You ain’t any better than the dogs that fight over the bones after supper. But you don’t want the scraps anymore, do you?”

  “Shannon!”

  Shannon clamped her hand over her mouth as Aiden’s voice filtered through her consciousness. She turned and saw him in the doorway, sporting an open shirt and a saffron walking kilt. No. Wait. A tailored shirt and belted pants with shiny black shoes. Pain ripped through her, and she clutched her stomach.

  “I can’t breathe.” She felt as though she’d fallen into water, her body weighted with stones. Water filled her lungs. She coughed. Struggled.

  “You’re all right, love,” said her husband. He sounded so far away. But then he was there, catching her as she fell.

  The room began to spin. She saw Jessica’s face, a look of shock in her pixie-blue eyes. “Clíona,” she whispered.

  Aiden’s strong arms enveloped her, and he cleaved her to his chest.

  Then there was nothing but darkness and silence.

  7

  AIDEN CARRIED SHANNON to her room and gently laid her on the bed. Her eyes fluttered open, and he breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you all right?” he asked.

  “At least, she’s alive,” said Jessica from the doorway.

  He glared at his stepsister over his shoulder. “Go. Now.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Whatever, your highness.” She spun on her heel and walked away.

  Aiden gritted his teeth. Even though she was his closest family, Jessica could be a real pain in the arse.

  “Shannon?”

  “What happened?”

  Aiden brushed aside the strands of hair clinging to her cheek. “You fainted.”

  “I’ve never done that before.”

  “No worries, love,” he teased. “I swept you into my manly embrace and carried you here.”

  Shannon smiled. “How gallant you are.”

  Aiden couldn’t stop himself from brushing his thumb over her chin. He wanted so much to kiss her. He was desperate for her to remember her previous life with him. He ached for his wife—had ached for the woman who was his other half more than 800 years ago.

  “I’ll send for the doctor,” he said. “To make sure you’re okay.”

  “No, Aiden. I’m all right. I’m just tired. I think jetlag has gotten the best of me.” She paused, her tired gaze skittering to the doorway. “Is she really your assistant?”

  Damn it, Jessica. “Informally. She does a few tasks here and there, but she’s not permanently in my employ.”

  “She seems rather … possessive of you.”

  Aiden quirked an eyebrow. “Is that jealousy I detect in your tone?”

  She blushed. “No, of course not.” She stared up at him, her face a charming pink, and for a moment, he saw Clíona reflected in her expression. His heart leaped in recognition. Then Shannon blinked, and the ghost of his wife disappeared.

  “You should rest. I’ll have Mrs. Calhoun bring you up something to eat later. Tomorrow, we can go to the site where you’ll be excavating.

  He saw excitement flare in her honey-brown gaze. “I can’t wait.”

  “Neither can I,” he said. Then, unable to resist the urge, he leaned and kissed her brow. “Sleep well, love.”

  SHANNON DIDN’T THINK she’d be able to sleep after that intense encounter with Jessica, and then Aiden had called her love. The first time she thought he’d been teasing, but he’d said it again before he left. She touched her forehead, still warm from where his lips had pressed. She’d seen something in his eyes—a desperate yearning that brought an ache to her soul. He seemed so lonely.

  She felt exhausted, though, and despite her doubts, she curled up on the bed and soon fell asleep.

  CLÍONA GROGGILY AWOKE in pain as someone dragged her across a rough terrain. She felt so weak, so tired, she didn’t have the energy to fight her attackers.

  When she’d first been captured and bound, she’d fought defiantly. Even so, Clíona hadn’t been able to wiggle free of the ropes binding her hands and her feet. Her betrayers had fitted her with a skirt that had stones sewn into its lining. This terrible accouterment confirmed that Clíona’s death had been planned before it had ever been put into motion. The idea that someone wished her and Áillen that much harm made her sick.

  Despite the goading, the accusations, the lies thrown at her, she kept her silence. Her stubborn refusal to speak had earned her a punch so hard, she’d blacked out. And now she was here. She looked around, her face swollen and sore, and realized immediately where they had taken her.

  The cave was directly underneath the castle—a secret lair for the dragons. At least, it had been before her marriage to Áillen bought peace between his family and the village. The dragons didn’t have to hide anymore.

  She was brought to the deep pool and dropped at its edge like one of the rocks in her dress. Agony ratcheted her body, and she couldn’t stop a moan of pain.

  “She’s awake.”

  “Good. I wouldn’t want her to miss this.”

  Water dripped from the spiked rocks overhead. The drip-drip-drip might’ve been soothing in other circumstances, but now those sounds only inspired fear and bitterness.

  So, this place would be her grave.

  Clíona wouldn’t beg for her life. Her beloved husband was dead, and soon, she would be with him. She had to believe they would spend the afterlife together after the denial of their full time as a husband and wife on this Earth.

  “Cut the ropes.”

  “We shouldn’t risk freeing her.”

  “She’s nigh on dead. We must make it look as if she took her own life. Cut them!”

  Clíona was yanked around, her al
ready bruised body suffering more indignities as they sawed the ropes off her. Her hands were freed first, and then her ankles.

  Together, the two attackers lifted her and swung her body outward. When they let go, she experienced a millisecond of being in the air before she splashed into the cold, dark water.

  She tried to swim. She tried to hold her breath. She tried to will herself to the surface and live. But the rocks pressed her down, and the water pushed into her mouth. She swallowed the dank, brackish liquid until her lungs filled and her breath was gone.

  8

  AIDEN AND JESSICA retired to his study for drinks and discussion.

  Aiden handed Jessica a gin and tonic, and she drank deeply. Her blue gaze slid over him like an icy breeze. “Why didn’t you tell me that you’d found her?”

  He returned to the bar and poured himself a brandy. “I needed to be sure.”

  “Are you?” Jessica took another sip. “Because she might be insane. Or maybe she’s pretending.” She put a hand on his arm. “It’s not like you haven’t been wrong before.”

  “It’s her,” he said. “She has these memory lapses—where she becomes Clíona and thinks we are still in the fifteenth century. I’ve found my wife, Aithne.”

  “You haven’t called me that in centuries.” She squeezed his arm, her eyes on his. “I’ve missed us.”

  “There is no us.” Aiden moved away from her, unsettled by Shannon-Clíona’s earlier outburst against Jessica. Why had she gotten so furious with his stepsister?

  “I was torn from my family and given to yours so that I might be your mate,” she said, desperation ribboning her voice. “I am dragon-born, damn it.”

  “We were never destined to be mated,” he said softly. “You were raised as my sister, Jessica, not my wife. Whatever desires you have for me should be given to another.”

  “Well, I tried that, didn’t I? Too many marriages to count.” She sighed. “This is the first time I’ve been home in two-hundred years. I don’t want to ruin it. Have you told Daniel and Bridget about all this?”