Born to Bite Bundle

by Hannah Howell

  “No,” he whispered. “I am not kind.”

  “What you told me tonight…You made a mistake, all those years ago. A terrible, awful mistake. And you’ve tried to make it right. You’re not a monster.”

  His fingers spread out to cup her cheek in his warmth. “You’ve no idea what I am.”

  “I serve ale to dozens of men a night. Rich and poor. Young and old. I know what you are, Finlay. You’re a man, and a good one.”

  “Ah, Christ, Kenna.” His words were so soft that she barely heard them. But she felt better now. Stronger. Less like a woman who expected to be used as barter.

  “Sit,” she ordered him, straightening her shoulders and grieving the loss of his heat when his hand fell away. “I’m famished.”

  They ate pheasant and goose and salmon, and drank fine ale, and Finlay’s face lost some of the stiffness that had broken her heart earlier. But as the stiffness left, it revealed sadness, and a lost look in his eyes when he watched the revelers that surrounded them.

  Excitement had bloomed through the hall with the arrival of King James, and Kenna had hardly believed herself in his presence as the trumpets sounded. But her excitement had sloughed off as the night had worn on. It was just as she had expected, no different from the inn, except that there were more serving girls and the men expected easy submission from the women they harassed.

  When the king took his leave, MacLain pulled her to her feet and escorted her back to their chambers.

  “I’m sorry, I must leave you here. I must discover what the king wants of me, and I dinna wish to expose you to that…vulgarity.”

  “I’ve seen it all before,” she said, but slumped with relief when he shook his head in refusal.

  He loosened the laces of her dress with brusque hands, fed the small hearth until the fire roared, and then he left her alone. Despite that she’d slept half the day, Kenna was exhausted, and climbed quickly beneath the linens to warm herself.

  When she realized she missed MacLain’s presence behind her, she wasn’t even surprised by her loneliness. She just hoped he’d return soon.

  The sound of water woke her, trickling into her dreams. Then the crackle of new wood catching flame. And the strong smell of ale.

  Kenna opened her eyes and found the flames casting stretching, shifting shadows on the wall.

  The soft splash of water caught her attention, and then she saw him. Finlay MacLain stood before the fire, his back bare from the waist up. He’d loosened his plaid and removed his leine. As she watched he scrubbed a square of linen over one arm and shoulder. His muscles jumped and bulged.

  Butterflies skipped over the skin of her stomach. My God. She’d admired many a bonny man in her day, but the sight of his naked back stole her breath away.

  He washed his neck and beneath his arms. When he swept the linen rag over his chest, she willed him to turn and let her watch, but he cruelly faced the hearth.

  “Some clod spilled ale on me,” he said into the silence.

  Kenna held her breath and closed her eyes.

  “Kenna, I know you’re awake.”

  “Oh?” she whispered. “How?”

  He took a deep breath, his back expanding. “I can hear you. And…”

  “And what?” She lay in complete contentment, watching him.

  “Nothing.” He laid the rag in the bowl of water and turned to reach for his leine.

  Kenna gasped. By God, he was a powerful man. His chest curved with muscle. His arms bulged with it. What would it feel like to be beneath him, to feel the weight of him above her, to feel protected and surrounded by all that power?

  “Kenna!” he snapped. “You canna do that.”

  “Do what?” His belly was long and lean, marred only by a white scar that curved around his ribs. Her fingers twitched with the need to trace it.

  “Kenna, I can…I mean to show you respect, do you ken?”

  “Aye,” she answered as her eyes traced the faint path of hair that disappeared beneath the dark edge of his plaid. She’d felt his cock press against her, felt its hardness and width. Her sex tightened and pulled at her nerves.

  “Damn it!” he snapped. “I can see and hear and smell far better than any man.”

  “So?” He’d taken off the stockings he’d donned for his visit to the king, and even the sight of his naked feet aroused her.

  “So I can…” He kicked the wooden bowl, spilling everything across the floor. “I can smell you! When your body grows slick I can taste you on my tongue, and I’m trying to ignore it and I can’t!”

  He could taste her? Every time? Blood rushed so hard to her face that her skin prickled.

  “And it wasn’t kindness that made me threaten Guthrie. It was selfishness. I want you for myself, and if I canna have you, at least I can keep that bastard’s eyes off you.”

  She pressed a hand to her thundering heart. He wanted her. Badly. “Why…” Her mouth was so dry that she could hardly swallow. “Why can you not have me?” It was too dangerous, probably. With the fangs and his dark soul and beastly nature. It was foolish of her to even want it.

  Finlay walked to the hearth and pressed both hands to the narrow stone mantel. “I want you, lass, but I canna offer more. Marriage or love. Not even bairns, as they’d be like me. So I canna have you, and it is one thing to lie in a bed beside you, burning. But it is another thing entirely to smell your body grow warm and wet for me, and tell myself I should not touch you.”

  Oh. Well, that didn’t sound dangerous at all. He had been aware of her arousal every time, and still he hadn’t taken her? She’d never known a man to turn down even the most grudging offer of pleasure. “But you kissed me. At the inn.”

  “’Twas just a kiss. And it nearly got you killed. Imagine what a mistake it would be to lie with me.”

  His hands clutched the stone, throwing his muscles hard against his skin. The plaid had slipped a bit lower, exposing the hollow of his spine just above his buttocks. Running her tongue down his backbone seemed a grand idea at the moment. “You would hurt me?”

  “Nay! Of course not! But it would not honor you, either, would it?”

  “Honor,” she muttered. Honor. She had honored her husband and what had it gotten her? Nothing in the end, but loneliness and shame. She had honored her family her whole life, and they had tossed her out like rubbish after her marriage. This man had shown her more honor than any other. He’d asked for nothing in return.

  “I am a widow.”

  He started to shake his head, but she cut him off.

  “I know what it is to lie with a man. And I know what it is to miss that. I do miss that, Finlay. I want to feel a man inside me again. I want to feel you.”

  His whole body flinched as if she’d struck him, and he pushed back from the wall to pace. “Kenna, don’t. Please. I am…especially drawn to you. I willna be able to resist if you offer. And I mean to take from you, Kenna, do you not understand?”

  She touched her fingertips to her neck, and his gaze flew there. When his lips parted, she saw his fangs. Sharp and long. Fear and sharp desire pulsed through her. Finlay groaned, and the sound of his need shivered against her.

  “Would it…Would it cause harm? To my body or my soul?”

  His face twisted, torture writ clear on his features. “Nay, but—”

  “I am a woman,” she insisted, rising up and letting the bed linens fall away. “And I need, Finlay, just as much as you do.”

  “Stop,” he ordered as she reached for the hem of her shift. He took a step toward her, eyes fierce, hand reaching to halt her movement. But Kenna cared nothing for caution and honor and good sense tonight. Tonight she wanted a warm body against hers and a need that matched her own. She wanted to be a woman again, and feel her body rise with pleasure.

  Before he could reach the bed, she gripped the shift in her hands and pulled it over her head.

  “Ah, Christ above,” he gasped, stuttering to a stop just a foot from her. He closed his eyes, but too late. S
he saw in the tightening of his face that her nakedness could not be shut out so easily. She slipped from the bed and took one of his large hands in her own.

  “Will you lie with me tonight, Finlay? With only the honor of my invitation between us?” Though she asked the question, she forced the issue by pressing his hand to one of her breasts.

  He didn’t resist, but she felt the shaking in his fingers. Kenna held her breath and waited.

  He wanted. He wanted so much.

  For a brief moment, Finlay thought he might be able to walk away. Somehow, he fooled himself into thinking that even the soft give of her breast beneath his fingers could not convince him. But only for one heartbeat. Then the nerves of his fingertips woke, and her skin was hot and fine and yielding. She pressed his hand closer and her breast filled the curve of his palm and pushed up against his fingers.

  When he shifted his thumb, Kenna sighed, her breath puffing against his chest. And then she touched him.

  She flattened her palm to his chest, spreading her fingers wide. A simple touch. And nothing close to enough.

  Finlay opened his eyes and he was lost. Her body was perfect and lush. Her breasts full and firm and so pale under his roughened hands. Her hips curved out from a small waist, forming the perfect angle for his hold.

  “Kenna,” he breathed as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to him. The bedcovers had kept her heat close, and now it soaked into him, warming more than just his skin. Something inside him thawed as he drew the fragrance of her warm body deep into his lungs. The thawing revealed pain, and Finlay felt his breath hitch.

  Kenna’s hands swept over his back and down to his waist. After a deep breath, she slipped from his arms and pulled him to the bed.

  He went to his knees before her. “You are a fine and lovely thing, Kenna.”

  “As are you,” she whispered as she slid her hands into his hair and pulled him to her for a kiss. The taste of her swept him into another world. Nothing existed but their bodies. No past, no future, no horrors of his own making. It was just Kenna’s tongue rubbing shyly over his. Her taste, like the sun and summer, flooding through him.

  They kissed until her hands began to move restlessly over his shoulders, and he couldn’t resist tasting more. First her neck, then her shoulder, then the soft rise of her breast.

  She inhaled hard. He felt the thundering of her heart beneath his mouth, but he would not rush this. Not this. It would last forever if he could will it so.

  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 h
ard 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.