Taming of the Wolf

by Lydia Dare

  “Price can do that,” Dash mumbled, his face falling as she’d hoped it would. He didn’t want to be shackled. He wanted to be wild and free. With her. But old wounds run deeply, she realized. She wasn’t a healer, but she could help with this.

  “I doona think I can allow ye ta put Price in danger that way,” she said, faking a sigh. “It’s me or no one.”

  “I’ve never wanted to devour Price, angel,” he offered. “You, on the other hand…”

  Cait spun around the room and noticed the bed in the far corner. “Was that here, before?”

  “I’ve never seen it before, no,” Dash replied, his brow furrowed. “I believe Price did some work down here this morning.”

  “Aye, at yer father’s orders.”

  Dash’s head snapped up. “Pardon?”

  “Yer father. He had him clean this place up and make it less of a prison.” At Dash’s confused glance, she further explained, “He wanted ye ta be comfortable.” Cait stretched her arms over her head and yawned dramatically. “And I, for one, am very glad he did. I’m exhausted.”

  “You can’t stay here, Caitrin. You have to go.”

  Cait let a smile cross her lips as she tugged at the laces of her dress, loosening it until it gaped open in the front. Dash spun away, flexing his hands at his sides. The muscles of his bare bottom clenched.

  Cait shrugged out of her gown, pulled her chemise over her head, and tugged all the pins from her hair. As she let each one hit the stone floor, Dash flinched again and again. If not for the spontaneous movement, she’d have sworn the man was made of stone for all the response she got.

  When she was naked, she walked slowly toward the bed, allowing her shoulder to brush his arm as she did so. Dash trembled a bit and turned to face the other direction.

  “Come here, Dash,” she said quietly, knowing full well he’d hear her.

  “I can’t, Cait.” The words came out with a tortured groan.

  “Why no’?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Caitie. Please don’t do this.”

  She could see the battle he fought within himself. And loved him all the more for the care he took with her.

  “Bring the shackles. I’ll tether ye over here. At least ye’ll be able ta get some sleep.”

  “I sincerely doubt that.”

  “Ouch!” Cait suddenly cried.

  He was beside her within seconds. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

  She smiled a mischievous smile at him. “No’ anymore,” she said as she stood on tiptoe and wrapped her hands around his neck. She pressed her naked body against his and rubbed like a cat.

  Dash’s hands came up to her waist to set her away from him, she was sure. “You naughty little witch,” he growled. But with his knees against the back of the bed, she shoved with all her might until he toppled backward onto the counterpane. She landed on top of him, her body pressed down the length of his. Immediately, she felt the hardness of him against her belly, and moved her hips against him. Dash looked away and gritted his teeth, as though she submitted him to torture after torture.

  “I have somethin’ ta tell ye, Dashiel,” she said, her tone conspiratorial as she sat up, her thighs open over his abdomen as she looked down at him.

  “Make it quick, Caitie,” he growled. “I can’t take much more of this.”

  She leaned close to his ear and purred, “From this day forward, the only shackles ye will wear are mine.” And the only part of her beast that would ever be shackled was his heart. The rest of him, she’d take exactly as he was.

  ***

  Dash closed his eyes to the sight of her breasts, so close to his face as she leaned over him that he could easily touch his lips to a taut little peak if he but lifted his head.

  Cait sat up, still straddling him, her flaxen hair hanging about her shoulders. She put a finger to her lips and pretended to look perplexed. “Oh my, did I forget ta tell ye? I love my wolf, exactly as he is.” She rested her weight on the flat of her hands, which pressed against his chest. “Do ye really think ye can fight the love I have for ye? That ye can run far enough or fast enough ta make me stop lovin’ ye?”

  “Cait,” Dash ground out. “I could hurt you. Don’t you see?”

  She leaned so that her mouth nearly touched his and breathed across his lips, “I’d like ta see ye try.” Her blue eyes flashed with challenge. “I’m a powerful witch, or have ye forgotten?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean—”

  “It means everythin’,” she insisted.

  “What do you plan to do now?” Trepidation laced his words.

  “I plan ta make love ta ye,” she said, danger flashing in her blue eyes. “Do ye submit?”

  “Do I have a choice?” Dash grumbled.

  “Stop lookin’ so distraught, Dashiel,” she said, slapping at his chest. “Ye’re ruinin’ the moment, ye big lout.”

  “Apologies,” he mumbled.

  “I ken ye want me,” she said quietly as she moved her hips over him, letting his shaft slide along the slippery wetness of her skin.

  “More than air,” he admitted, looking into her eyes for the first time all night. All he saw shining back was love for him. A joy filled his heart like none he’d ever felt. He let his gaze roam down her naked body. She was his. Loved him exactly as he was.

  She squealed as he suddenly rolled her beneath him.

  “What are ye doin’?” she gasped.

  “Anything I want,” he growled as he nipped at her lips. He laughed when a curse crossed her lips.

  “You said you wanted me,” he gently commanded. “Now take me as I am.”

  Cait lifted her head and touched her lips to his, tender and reverently at first. But before he could have even expected it, her tongue slid inside his mouth to war with his.

  “I love your lips, lass. But I want to taste more than that,” he said, raising his eyebrows as his gaze traveled down her body.

  With no self-consciousness at all, she arched her back, bringing her nipple closer to his mouth. He slowly sucked it inside, teasing her with his raspy tongue and slow licks, until she nearly purred beneath him. Then he switched to the other breast.

  He filled her in one swift stroke. She cried out, which only stoked his passion. He’d never seen a more beautiful sight, with her mouth hanging open, her eyes closed. “I think you like being at my mercy, angel,” he breathed, staying completely still within her.

  “Please, Dash,” she whispered.

  Cait rocked beneath him, her legs rising to wrap around his waist.

  He brushed the hair from her forehead, and he could finally see the need shining in her eyes. “If ye doona start ta move soon, I’ll endeavor ta make yer life unbearable when the moon begins ta wane.”

  “You little witch,” Dash mumbled. His angel was a devil in disguise, the little minx.

  “Take me, Dash?” she asked as she lifted her head and rained kisses against his chest, still rocking her hips.

  He was amazed that he had enough strength not to devour her. Not to hurt her. He wanted just a moment to enjoy the feeling. To enjoy a cycle of the moon. To enjoy her and all that she stood for.

  Finally, he began to move, impaling the full length of him into the wet sheath of her body. Her eyes closed as she milked him, small gasps leaving her mouth with every plunge, her breasts still pressed to his chest, the hard peaks teasing him endlessly.

  “Look at me, Caitie,” he whispered by her ear.

  Cait did as he directed, her hands rising to bracket his face. He watched with rapt sensation as she took him, each thrust harder than the last, her lips parted with desire. He moved faster and faster. Dash felt like he could explode just from the sight of her slender body moving beneath him and the way her blue eyes held his.

  “Do you want to come, Caitie?” he growled by her ear.

  She nodded tightly.

  “Let me take care of you.” She was too far gone even to recognize the no-nonsense tone he used. He moved his hand down b
etween them, so he could rub the sensitive bundle of nerves that was her center.

  Cait gasped, her movements growing unsteady as she neared climax. Her mouth hung wide open now, her body tense, like an arched bow, ready to be released.

  “That’s it, Cait,” he soothed as he bent his head and took her nipple into his mouth, drawing strongly on the perfect little peak. When she topped the crest, a tear rolled down her cheek. He wiped it away with his thumb. “Oh, Cait,” he soothed.

  “Doona give yerself too much credit, Dashiel. I always cry when Lycans make love ta me on the night of the full moon.”

  He chuckled lightly.

  Her wet flesh quivered around him, and it was all Dash could do not to follow her into release. But he wasn’t ready to end their encounter, not anytime soon.

  When the clenching of her inner walls finally stopped, she looked at him with so much love in her eyes that it nearly hurt, a sheepish smile on her face. Dash pulled out of her and set her on her knees. She protested softly with a grunt of displeasure.

  “I’m not done yet, Cait,” he said as he took her hand and showed her how hard he still was.

  “Oh,” she gasped. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” He silenced her with a nip to her shoulder. “I’ll let you fix it.”

  Dash slid in behind her and pressed his hardness against her bottom.

  “Dash, I doona—” she began.

  “I know. I do. You trusted that I wouldn’t hurt you. Now trust that I’ll please you, as well. No matter how I want it. Or how I give it to you. I want to take you as a beast takes his mate.”

  A smile crossed her face. “What are ye waitin’ for?”

  With one arm around her middle, Dash bent her at the waist, pressing her shoulders toward the bed. Then he sunk inside her in one fluid motion that made her cry out, again. For a moment, that same doubt entered his mind, that he’d been too rough with her.

  Damn his Lycan-hating upbringing. His whole life had been about restraint. He’d missed out on… this.

  Finally, he could be free. He could be whole. He could embrace the beast inside him and never look back.

  She rocked back against him, moving on him. He wrapped his hands around her hips and set a rhythm as old as time. He took her harder than ever before and gave her more pleasure than she’d known was possible. And only when she erupted around him time and again and begged and pleaded for him to end the sweet torment he delivered to her body and soul did he follow.

  Cait sank to the bed, her breath heaving in and out in huge gasps as he collapsed on top of her. He brushed the hair from her shoulder and gently kissed the tender flesh that bore his mark.

  “My little witch,” he murmured against her skin.

  “My beautiful beast,” she breathed back. Then he rolled to his side and pulled her into his arms.

  Thirty-Nine

  “Lady Eynsford.” Price cleared his throat, standing in the doorway of Caitrin’s informal sitting room.

  Hearing the name in regard to her was still something she was adjusting to, even though it had been nearly three weeks since Dash had assumed his father’s title. In time, the name would feel more like her own, she was certain.

  From her small writing desk, she looked up at the ancient butler. “Aye?”

  He nodded in deference of her position. “Your guest has arrived, my lady,” he said, taking care not to say the man’s name as she’d directed.

  Cait shot out of her seat. “Is he in the green parlor, Price?”

  She wasn’t certain at all how Dash would take her meddling in his affairs. Actually, she had a fairly good idea. He wouldn’t be happy about it, especially as he forbade her weeks ago from contacting Lord Radbourne. But it was for the best, whether Dash realized it or not.

  Even though he had come to terms with the late marquess’ feelings toward him and put many of his old demons to rest, Cait could still see the lost look in her husband’s eyes from time to time. And that came from not knowing where he truly belonged. She’d seen that expression countless times on Elspeth’s face in the past, back before she was reunited with her father, Major Forster.

  Dash would forgive her; at least she hoped so.

  Cait made her way toward the green parlor but stopped in her tracks when Dash emerged from his study, blocking her path. He sniffed at the air and then turned his intimidating amber gaze on her. “There’s a Lycan here at Eynsford Park?”

  Blasted sensitive nose. She would much rather have met the viscount before Dash got wind of his arrival. Made preparations, warned the man what to expect. Cait feigned a look of innocence. “Yes, there is,” she cooed, reaching for him and sliding her hand up his muscled chest. “And he is incredibly handsome. How fortunate for me that I’m married ta him.”

  Dash’s gaze darkened. “I know my own scent, Caitie, and that is not it. What are you up to?”

  “Did ye become more suspicious when ye became a marquess, Dash?” She stood on tiptoe to press a kiss to his jaw, hoping to beguile him before he caught on to her plan.

  “Yes, with good reason.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I have not forgotten your potent sleeping draught, lass. I’m never quite certain what you’re capable of.”

  Cait giggled, though she knew he hadn’t exactly meant it as a compliment. “A wife is allowed some secrets, is she no’?”

  ***

  Not when one of them was another Lycan in their midst. The unfamiliar scent became stronger, and Dash frowned at his lovely wife who was trying her best to distract him. “You’re up to something.” He sniffed the air again. It definitely was not one he recognized. Not a Westfield. Not a Forster. He shook his head trying to place it, to no avail. “It’ll go better for you if you confess your nefarious scheme now.”

  “I canna tell ye a thing. It’s a surprise.” Her light blue eyes twinkled mischievously, which made his trousers embarrassingly tight. God, he’d never have his fill of her. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to whisk her up the steps to his room and force her to tell him. If he could get her undressed, he’d have the truth out of her in less than a second.

  “I don’t like surprises. Last chance, Caitie,” he growled softly. “Tell me or else.”

  She playfully smacked his chest. “Go back ta yer lair, my lord. I’ll call for ye when I’m ready.”

  If she thought for one moment that he was going to leave her to deal with some strange Lycan this close to a full moon, she was out of her pretty head. But before he could sufficiently frighten the truth out of her, a stranger appeared at the end of the corridor.

  “Are you looking for me?” the mysterious Lycan asked. He was tall, younger than Dash by a few years and with rather ordinary brown hair that was a bit longer than was fashionable; but his eyes, a deep amber, seemed to look right through Dash. Radbourne. His half brother. He didn’t have a doubt in his mind.

  Dash’s lungs wouldn’t release the breath they held, and he felt a jolt in his chest and clenching that made it impossible to talk. Caitrin, apparently, couldn’t leave well enough alone, even though he’d expressly asked her not to meddle.

  His wife stepped from his embrace and walked toward the other man, her hand outstretched in greeting. “Lord Radbourne, I am sorry ta keep ye waitin’. I was just on my way ta meet ye.”

  “Am I to assume you’re Lady Eynsford, then?” the man asked, raising Cait’s fingers to his lips.

  Dash had never felt such a flash of jealousy is his entire life. His hands were actually shaking with the intense desire to physically toss his brother from his home when his lips lingered a bit too long on Caitrin’s skin.

  Cait glanced over her shoulder at Dash, a warning in her eyes. “Indeed.” She turned back to the man. “Thank ye for payin’ us a visit.”

  “Well, I must say,” the man shot an inquisitive look at Dash, “your letter was most intriguing.”

  Letter? What the devil had she said in this letter? A low growl escaped Dash’s throat. He wasn’t rea
dy for this interview. He might not ever be ready. Blast Caitrin for forcing it on him.

  “How ill-mannered of me ta keep ye waitin’ in the hallway. Please, my lord, let us retire ta the parlor.”

  Dash swallowed. Though he wasn’t prepared for this conversation, he’d be damned if he would let Cait conduct it without him. He quickly made his way to her side, possessively dropping his hand to her shoulder. “After you, my dear.”

  Cait looked up at him, smiling sweetly, before preceding the men into the green parlor. Radbourne’s eyes dropped to watch her tempting backside until Dash’s growl made his gaze rise once again. Brother or not, if the man glanced in Cait’s direction one more time, he’d tear his damned head off.

  Dash looked his brother over. Aside from their hair color, they did look similar. The same aristocratic nose, same strong chin. Their eyes were nearly identical. Dash gestured him inside the parlor. “Please, Radbourne.”

  Once inside, Dash claimed the spot beside Caitrin on a dark, damask settee. His eyes flashed to hers. “When this is over, I’m going to toss you over my knee,” he whispered, though the quirk on Radbourne’s lips confirmed he’d overheard the threat.

  His half brother settled into a high-backed chair across from them, and he smiled charmingly at Cait. “It is a pleasure to meet you, Lady Eynsford. Your correspondence captured my interest right away.”

  She didn’t even have the good sense to look ashamed for ignoring Dash’s wishes. Instead, she sat forward in her seat and graced Radbourne with a very pretty smile. “Thank ye, sir. And this brutish man beside me is, of course, the Marquess of Eynsford. I do hope ye’ll consider remainin’ here as our guest as we negotiate the details.”

  Negotiate what details? Dash was certain his face was on fire. What exactly was she doing? “Cait,” he grumbled softly.

  “I assume ye did bring the sketches with ye, my lord,” she continued, completely ignoring Dash.