Sorcha's Wolf

by Billi Jean

  He nodded and his grin grew. “Aye, I have a temper as well, true.”

  Stunned, she simply stared at him. Dressed now, in the Fay clothing, minus his boots, he looked amazing. Not more than any other time, but now, he simply looked…heartbreaking.

  She ducked her head to hide the wash of confusing tears and struggled with her emotions. Could she do this? She’d already accused him of not communicating with his wolf, why not push on ahead? With anyone else cutting off part of themselves, she wouldn’t hesitate to point out how wrong that was, but this was Alex.

  He moved closer and she stopped him merely by looking at him. He must have seen something in her eyes, but he didn’t speak even though he’d had his mouth open. Instead, he shut it and frowned at her.

  She took a deep breath and took the leap. “Do you know, Alex, what it’s like not to touch your power? To feel it there, just within reach, but unable to feel it’s beauty? Is this…familiar to you? Do you feel this, something holding you from your wolf?”

  Her question stunned him, she could see. His expression hardened, but instead of growing angry and ranting at her, he exhaled wearily and took a chair by the canopy bed. Slowly as if he chose his words with care, he said, “My family died at Zith’s hands.” He stopped and watched her closely before continuing, “He came through our village when I was a lad. He burnt everything to the ground. Everything, do you understand?”

  She nodded. Pain filled her chest at his words. She understood completely.

  “He took my da and my elder brother, Jason. I hunted him for days and when I finally found him, he trapped me in a cage and forced me to watch as he burnt them alive. Trapped in my wolf form I was unable to break out. I swore vengeance that day, witch, and I swore never to let my wolf overtake me again.”

  His voice deepened at the end and she squeezed her eyes shut at the pain she heard in his tone. Did he know how much he revealed with what he said? She doubted it.

  “So, aye, I don’t allow my wolf control, but I hold myself back, nothing else does.”

  She swallowed painfully before she could speak without giving her emotions away.

  “How old were you?”

  He didn’t speak for so long, she almost turned to face him, but with a low exhale, she heard him murmur, “A lad, eight or nine winters, old enough to fight.”

  Eight or nine? Her heart felt as if someone was ripping it to shreds. So much made sense now. This was why he sought revenge. This was why he’d taken her and used her like this.

  “I’ve sworn vengeance on this man, can you see? Afterward, when I grew old enough to become a true warrior, part of me could do nothing but hunt him. Nothing.” He frowned fiercely and sat forward to stare at the floor. “Those days are dark, forgotten. Full of my enemies’ blood. It didn’t matter to me whose blood, as long as it was one of those responsible for my village, or an enemy of the pack, I killed them. I found many of the men who travelled with him, but in my anger, I didn’t ask for anything besides their blood on my blade.”

  “How long?” she asked when he didn’t continue.

  “Years, possibly decades maybe even longer. I don’t know for certain, does it matter? Alrick stopped me and forced me to move to the US to establish our clan there. Now, I’ve finally found a way to kill Zith, here, in Scotland where it all began.”

  Goddess, he’d been on a killing spree for decades. Was that when she’d seen him? Fresh from a kill with murder in his eyes, not disgust? He’d been dressed like so many of the warriors of their time, his hair longer, his cheeks rough with days’ worth of stubble, but he’d not been bloody. The men with him had been just as roughly dressed, warriors all.

  And he’d done this, killed, from the time he’d been fifteen, perhaps younger, until he’d left for the US. That had been more than several decades ago. The clan hadn’t moved until after she’d moved their coven. That meant he’d been killing for…way longer than a few decades.

  “You blame yourself,” she said and paused when she saw the anger building in his strong features. “No, hear me out, Alex. This wasn’t your fault. How could it be? Rage is a butcher, a murderer so insane he kills without thought. You had no chance against him, nor did your village. You can’t blame your wolf for this, and you can’t be strong enough to defeat him without your wolf’s guidance. If you were in tune with him, no human on this planet could get close enough to harm you. No human, jackal or mage.”

  “Damn it, witch, I defeated those humans. And the hag. I killed those jackals and when this is all said and done, I’ll kill anyone else that touches you. Will that make you happy?”

  “Make me happy?” She flung her hands up. He wasn’t seeing what she was saying. Either on purpose, or just because he was too arrogant. “You barely defeated the humans.” When he tried to interrupt, she shushed him with a hiss. “Listen to me! The jackals, I think you killed them because they are slow and lazy, but you barely beat them. Barely.”

  He balled his fists until his knuckles turned white, but as she watched, he tamed his temper and exhaled through his nose. His chest rose under the pale silver shirt the Fay had given him, making her body react wildly. He simply looked so handsome, even angry with him she couldn’t seem to resist the way his body pulled at hers. Only now she wasn’t angry was she? How could she be? If someone had told her they’d found a way to kill Rage, she would have done anything to end his existence. She traced the line along her wrist, remembering easily how much destruction he’d wrought on her coven—on her own family. The mage should die, but could he? She didn’t know and worse, she feared Alex would die trying.

  Alex stood abruptly, cutting through her fearful thoughts. “Aye, but I did defeat them, didnae I?”

  The way he swung in and out of his accent intrigued her. Did he fall into the lyrical brogue when he lost his temper? Or when he became passionate? “You did…”

  Before she could tack on barely, he narrowed his eyes and stepped closer.

  “Will ya come with me willingly to face this mage?”

  Surprised, she stared at him. Did he mean that? Hope blossomed in her chest, growing so big she had to swallow a few times before she could ask, “You mean as I am now, with my powers?”

  He shook his head and the hope turned to lead, weighing her down. No, of course, he wouldn’t want her to aid him, when he had some plan to deal with Zith—at least he thought he did. Still, even asking her to go willingly gave her back some of her hope.

  “You would have to take the poison again. You defeated it once, you can do it easily again.”

  “What?” She turned and walked away from him, giving him a fierce look over her shoulder. “It was not easy!” It had nearly killed her—or at least it felt like it had. She’d burnt the ingredients out of her system, which had meant she’d needed to reach for that tiny bit of power she had been able to touch when he’d given her the antidote and force it to raise her temperature, heating only the herbal concoction filling her so she hadn’t fallen into delirium from her brain overheating. Easy? Not even close.

  “Aye, if it wasn’t easy, you still—”

  “Alex! And I have no way of knowing if I can break it again. You don’t realise what you’re asking of me. I could die, does that matter to you?”

  His expression dark he shook his head sharply. “You will no’ die. You broke it once, you can do so again.” He followed her to where she stood and suddenly she realised how big his chest was, how wide his shoulders were, how much taller—just plain bigger—he was than she was. He’d defeated everyone that had challenged them so far, and that was without his wolf. She couldn’t imagine him stronger, but knew he could be. Why did it matter so much to her if he communicated with his wolf? He was strong.

  Because he deserved to be whole.

  She looked at his handsome face and nibbled her lip at the heat simmering in his eyes. He wanted her. She recognised the flush across his high cheekbones. Surprising her, he slowly traced her cheek with his knuckle. He’d done that be
fore, and each time, her bones ached to feel him do much, much more. She felt tired, exhausted from battling him, the constant doubts and the fear overwhelming her.

  “I would not want you dead, witch. Have I not said I will protect you?”

  He moved closer when she didn’t stop him. The brush of his body against hers set her heart racing. She swallowed.

  “Show me you will aid me willingly. I have sworn to keep you safe. I will protect you.”

  Did he mean that? Willingly? His irises were so amazing. She could see the shards of dark brown sprinkled within the lighter, buttery colour this close. If she didn’t do this, prove to him she cared, she may never have another chance. He’d shown he cared—albeit in his own arrogant way that she now saw she’d missed in her own anger. Since he’d first thrown her into this crazy adventure, he’d tried his best to keep her safe—if silent, she thought not forgetting the gag.

  Could she let this chance go? Could she deny herself the opportunity to see if he could see her as his?

  If she said no, he’d leave and go on his own to find Rage. He would be walking right into a trap. Could she let him face such danger alone? If she went with him, they might both die. But what kind of life would she lead without him?

  “Will you? Take the potion and come with me?”

  He licked his lips and she felt her knees grow weak. She knew what that tongue felt like searching inside her mouth as if he couldn’t get enough of her. She bit down on her lip and worried it between her teeth.

  “I will protect you. I can, I did. No harm will come to you.”

  “No more gags. No more threats. No more—” He shifted closer and cupped her face in his hand. Her breath left her.

  “You never listened to my threats.”

  “I did on the mountain.”

  “And shoved me off it.”

  She frowned. Was he teasing her? “No more hauling me around either, no pulling and tugging.” Why did she sound breathless?

  “No? So many of your rules now, eh?” he asked, only a breath away from her mouth. He glanced at her lips then back to her eyes with an intensity that made her weak. He slid his hand from her shoulder to her waist, using it to draw her closer as if fearing she’d bolt. “I only had two, but I fear you’d have me abide by yours much more stringently than you obeyed mine, eh?”

  He didn’t let her answer but cupped the back of her neck and swallowed her words with a kiss. This time she was ready, this time her hands were free and her body on fire. She tugged her fingers through his hair, sliding through the short silk to angle his head for a deeper possession. He growled and, without warning, anchored her thigh along his hip to keep her open to the heat of his erection.

  Slowly, he began rubbing against her, as if he wanted her, now, this very instant but allowed her to accept him with each deliberate advance and retreat of his hips. He didn’t force, but he didn’t hold back either.

  He stunned her. Each hot thrust of his tongue along hers matched the bump and grind of his body to hers. Tiny fissions of pleasure whispered along her nerve endings, making her body feel weak and shaky. He gripped her so tightly in place that she could feel every inch bearing down as it thrust along her sensitive pussy.

  Goosebumps burst along every inch of her skin—turning to shimmering rushes of sensations that blew away her worries like a leaf in a gale. Who cared about Rage? Who cared about how much she hated Alex calling her witch? Who cared about anything other than the addictive experience of being in Alex’s arms?

  He kissed her like a man on the edge. Like she’d dreamt, only better. So much better, warmer, silkier, hotter. The friction and heat of his body blew her fantasies away. She’d never found this alone in her bed. Alex was solid muscle, but tender and careful with her in ways that drove her passion frighteningly high.

  She couldn’t get enough. She wanted more. All of him. Her hands trembled with need at the first feel of his naked skin under his shirt. She gasped into his kiss and he groaned, driving his body tighter against her hips, almost bruising her when she caressed her hands up his chest, learning the curves and hard planes of his hot flesh by feel. She wanted to trace the same path with her tongue, work her way lower and taste the heated shaft.

  He encouraged her with each stroke of his tongue, each measured thrust of his hips against her. He pulled his mouth from hers but before she could cry out, he pressed hot kisses to her temples, her cheeks, her jaw, then back at her lips, stroking her tongue with his, guiding her to taste him as he tasted her. She did, and felt him tighten his hold on her with enough force to show her how well she pleased him. After only a few precious moments, he growled and took over, nipping her bottom lip. Her temperature soared and her legs went weak at the tiny pinch of pain. He sucked on the spot to cure the sting, but that only added to the fire burning along her skin.

  She needed more. She scratched his scalp with her nails and moaned into his mouth, rubbing her aching clit against the bold hardness of his cock. Her climax loomed on the edge, so close to shoving her into an orgasm she wanted to beg him to fuck her.

  He bent his knees and rocked forward, bearing down just right. He was so thick. So long and hard, she wanted to touch, stroke and lick every inch. She wanted to hear him shout her name when she opened her mouth to him and sucked his shaft past her lips. But not now, now, she needed to come. She was close, so close she nearly cried out when he took his mouth from hers.

  “Witch, you drive me wild. I need inside you, now.”

  Witch.

  The word hit like another blow. One she should have accepted by now, but still shocked her with a stab of pain. That’s all she was to him, wasn’t it? Once again, her passion fizzled out, leaving her chilled to the bone. She wasn’t more than a witch to him, one he’d use to gain what he wanted—now and with his revenge.

  She broke the kiss and escaped his embrace with a soft cry. Breathless, she leaned against the mantel, refusing to look at him because if she did, she feared nothing would stop her from letting him have anything—everything—he wanted. She feared even the knowledge of what Rage would do to her wouldn’t stop her from letting this man have anything he wanted.

  Silence pounded between them. She expected anger, another rage, or at the least, more scathing words. Instead of getting angry with her, he stood quietly except for his heavy breathing.

  When she chanced a glance at him through the curtain of her hair, she bit the lip he had so recently nibbled on with such devastating results. He looked hot, steaming even. Not moving any other part of his body, he lifted an arm and reached out to slowly touch her jaw with his knuckles, then let his arm fall to his side. Without anything else, he turned from her and walked out, closing the door softly.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Alex was a fool. He’d had Sorcha in his arms and had felt her passion shimmering between them like a rainbow through a light rain shower. Then, like a jackass, he’d pressed her too fast, too far. What did she think of him? She’d stated her rules, and with each, he’d felt the guilt hit hard.

  He found a fountain, one of many he could hear flowing throughout the elegant gardens. Sighing, he gazed at the intricately carved marble. Water rippled from the palms of women holding their hands above their heads as if they caught the rain as it fell and fed it to the waiting creatures carved into the base of the fountain. The beautiful details had suffered from time, but the worn away edges merely added to the elegance of the artwork in his mind. Nothing could be truly beautiful without the signs only time could bestow.

  The beauty of the Fay realm was legendary. The very air shone as if blessed by nature. More statues stood along the low, covered walkway lining the white marble building he shared with Sorcha. Tall, majestic oaks grew alongside the outer edge of the grassy pathway, creating a sense of walking through a forest path dotted with tall, grey statues depicting the Fay in all their different forms. Roses bloomed in a variety of colours, mingling with the scents of fresh rain and heather the soft breeze brought to him. The
magic on the air glittered like butterfly wings.

  Sorcha belonged in a place like this. He tilted his head and examined that thought. Sorcha.

  The life and brilliance of Sorcha was too bright for this world with its dim light and carefully constructed beauty. She belonged elsewhere. New England? He couldn’t imagine her there, but he’d seen the pictures of her outside the gates to her home. Her hair had been straight there.

  He smiled thinking of her riot of red curls. How often had he wanted to tangle his hand in those curls and feel the silk curl around his fingers? Why had her hair been straight in America? She’d dressed differently there as well. Not that he’d given her the option of heels and skirts. Still, she belonged in Scotland. For all the pain it had given her, he could see her clearly here, on the bright green meadows, the pines above her and the craggy grey rock of their homeland at her feet.

  Their homeland.

  Had he ever had a home? As a young lad, he’d had a home and even at nine winters, he’d seen the love between his parents and wanted that for himself. To be the protector and provider for someone. To have that special someone look to him and care for him in turn.

  “You are sad?”

  He turned to see a child and from under her golden, bright hair, he recognised the youngling they’d saved. Sorcha had saved.

  “You saved me as well.”

  “Do you read minds?” he asked her, more surprised than offended.

  She giggled, her eyes sparkling a deep, dark blue not in the least chastised for having been caught reading his mind.

  “It’s not polite.”

  Nodding solemnly, but still smiling, she moved closer to him, amazing him when she took his large, battle scarred hand. He froze.

  “You are not used to kindness. This evil has tainted you for long. Too long?”

  Alex blinked and inhaled sharply. She gazed at him, the laughter in her eyes muted by a perception far beyond her years.

  Another sound caught his attention and he shifted his gaze from the child’s to see a tall, slender Fay approaching. He stood, still letting the child hold his hand.