by Kresley Cole
“Can you truly keep the beast caged?”
“I’ve avoided the moon as much as possible. I can do this for you, Chloe. For us.”
“The pain’s lessening. I feel a little stronger.” The first move she made was to stroke his cheek. Heaven.
He’d fallen head over heels; he began to hope he could claim her heart as well.
If he could save her. Reminded of the clock, he began kissing her neck, trailing to her breasts. “This first time must be quick, before the potion wears off.” All he had to do was be quick, yet gentle, and keep his beast at bay.
What could possibly go wrong?
As he took a nipple between his lips and started to suck, he dipped his hand between her thighs to sink a finger inside her. Gods, her silken sheath was so hot as it clenched his finger. Even in his panic, his cock went rock-hard for that tightness, moisture welling atop the crown.
By the time he’d moved to her other breast and wedged a second finger inside, she was rocking her hips, riding his fingers. Responding so perfectly.
“Is this better, lass?”
She nodded. “I’m ready. I think.”
He would’ve liked to prepare her more, to take her to the very edge. They had no time. He moved between her legs, fisting his cock, aiming it against her opening. With a shallow roll of his hips, he began inching his length inside her. “Am I hurting you?”
Her eyes widened. “No, but something’s different. . . .” She bit her bottom lip. “I, uh, just got a hint of what’s to come, so to speak.”
His precum. “I imagine those hints are no’ in short supply. Even now, you’ve got me crazed for you.”
She moaned, wriggling on his rod to get him deeper. “It’s pure energy—like adrenaline. Stronger than I’ve ever known.”
Because it’s no longer tainted. Pressing wet kisses to her swollen breasts, he rocked between her taut thighs. When Chloe gripped his shoulders and met him, the beast gloried in her wellness and wanted its turn inside her. This was the first full moon with their mate; the night was the beast’s by right.
And the beast wanted its due.
Will refused it. He skimmed his fingers down Chloe’s side, then reached between them to stroke her clitoris. He groaned to find that little bud so firm and sensitive.
She moaned, undulating her hips for more touch, for more of his shaft.
“Ah, your eyes are glowing!”
She promptly closed them. “Y-you hate that color.”
“No longer, because I can see them clearly now.” He kissed one lid, then the other. “I find them so beautiful, Chloe. I need tae see them. If your eyes glow, I’ll know you’re getting better.”
She peeked them open. Whatever she saw in his expression made her relax, the corners of her lips curling.
Aye, he needed to see her eyes—and he needed to feel her succubus pull. He knew what he felt for her, knew he would nourish her well. And the more she fed, the stronger she’d be. Only when he experienced that last pull from her would his worry ease.
He lay fully atop her, forehead to forehead, his hands snaking behind her to clamp her arse with splayed fingers. He held her in place beneath his body, so that her stiff nipples raked along his sweating chest, so that the root of his erection ground her clit with his every thrust.
Though he scarcely knew how, he was controlling his beast. Yet the need to mark her neck lashed him. She was still too weak; he could defeat that urge.
For now—
A beam of light from the rising moon slipped through a crack in the curtains and shone directly into his face.
Light illuminated his ice-blue eyes. “MacRieve?” Though Chloe was already stronger—each time his shaft throbbed inside her, she got a hit of adrenaline—she wasn’t ready for the beast’s ferocity.
And the pain medicine had begun wearing off. “I-I need you to stay with me.”
He pinned her wrists above her head, his face just above hers, his gaze boring into hers. “I’ll give you whatever you need. I’ve wrested control of it, Chloe.” With a stunned expression, he said, “I’m in control. Of it, of everything.”
For the first time in his life.
“I’m goin’ tae be right for you.” He leaned down to take her lips.
Between kisses, she murmured, “You are . . . you are.”
He continued surging his big body over hers, covering her completely. With each thrust, his hips stroked against her thighs. Beneath her calves, his muscled ass flexed to drive his cock deeper, penetrating her to the hilt. His chest rubbed over her breasts, while the base of his unyielding shaft hit her sensitive clitoris.
She was about to come for this hot, lathered male. And the dizzying intensity of her building orgasm was . . . frightening.
With his voice rough and his accent pronounced, he said something in Gaelic.
“What did you say?”
“You’ve let me tend tae your fire, and tonight it’s searing me clean. I can be what you need.” At her ear, he rasped, “I’ll feed you well, mate. Give you everything I have in me. Always.” He circled his hips, grinding his thick shaft against her. “All for you.”
“Oh, God, oh, God . . .” More thrusts, more grinding. More MacRieve. That dizzy intensity kept mounting until she was whimpering, bucking beneath him, two slick bodies roiling.
She was insensible, a slave to pleasure, to whatever this man wanted from her.
Rapture struck. “MacRieve!” Pounding waves seized her as she screamed, “More!” In a wet rush, her sheath contracted along his length, hungry for his heat to flood her.
“Chloe, ah, gods! You’re milking me so hard. . . .”
She’d clenched him so tightly, he stopped thrusting—
His back bowed. “Woman! It’s strong!” he bellowed in disbelief. “Take it from me!” he roared as streams of hot seed shot into her.
She was still writhing with her own orgasm as his semen filled her, pulse after scorching pulse.
At the last instant, his entire body jerked. “There’s your pull, baby. That’s it.” Jaw slack, eyes rolling back in his head, he grated, “Take it deep for me. Take my seed so deep. . . .”
When Will’s brain could register thought once more, one realization was foremost: I’m her mate.
Chloe had strengthened him. Indeed, his new power was so staggering, he feared hurting her. She lay still with her eyes closed. When he started hardening again, he forced himself to withdraw and roll his weight off her.
“Are you better, lass?” He thought he’d been gentle with her. Tonight, he’d leashed his beast so totally, he knew he could handle it as well as any Lykae. Better than! Still, he must have hurt her. “Chloe, did I—”
She suddenly arched her back, arms falling over her head. When her palms slapped the headboard, the solid wood cracked.
Will bit out a short, shocked: “Whoa.”
She reared up, eyes alight. “You’re my mate?”
“Oh, aye.” He beat a fist over his chest. “I could stop a locomotive right now.”
“Good. You’re going to need all the strength you can muster.”
“That so?” He rose to open the drapes. When he faced her, she was on her hands and knees crawling across the bed to him.
“I’ve got the moon on my back, my beast in submission, and the hottest piece of cambion arse feeding me power. I can take anything you can dish out. And your neck’s about tae bear my bite.”
When she visibly shivered, he said, “I’m back in the game with my bonny mate, no? I believe I just scored a hat trick.”
“You’re officially off the bench,” she breathed, “cleared for play. With a fangirl who fell for you—”
He lunged for her; she leapt for him. He caught her in midair, twisting to pin her against the wall as he shoved his cock home. “Ahhh, Chloe!”
She took his mouth with her own so hard their teeth knocked together before they found each other’s lips. Both their tongues thrust, both their hips rocked. Deep kisses, hard f
ucking.
She locked her legs around his waist, holding on for dear life because he was plowing her cunny like a piston. Bliss ratcheted to another record height.
When she sank her claws into his back, he howled with satisfaction—and did the same to hers. Though his beast remained dormant, Will’s fangs lengthened to mark his mate.
He and Chloe bounced from one wall to the next, shaking the entire structure.
Between kisses, she said, “I hope your keep’s sturdy!”
“It’s our keep, our wolf’s lair, and we’re about tae find out.” He took her mouth once more, and she licked his tongue, sucking it.
Mercy me.
But then she broke away with a breathy plea: “Mark me hard, MacRieve.”
“You want my bite?”
“I love you. I belong to you, and I want everyone to know it.”
Just stopping himself from roaring with triumph, he gripped her hair, tugging till her neck was bared to him. “Is leamsa so, Chloe MacRieve. And I’ll be marking you as hard as I’m lovin’ you.” With a snarl, he sank his fangs into the tender skin of her neck, biting the ever-living hell out of her. . . .
FORTY-NINE
On into the early morning, long after the moon had set, Will still hadn’t gotten enough of Chloe, was stiffening inside her yet again.
But his lass’s lids were heavy. After their exertions, his young mate had inevitably grown sleepy. Not from sickness—from a well-earned need for rest.
“I’m signaling for a tee-oh.” Her voice was throaty from her screams of pleasure.
He’d been insatiable, taking her repeatedly, determined to satisfy her in every way. They’d both been so much stronger that at one point, he had indeed worried about Conall.
Their new home had proved as enduring as time.
“Perhaps when you reach my age, you will no’ peak so early.” He tucked her hair behind her wee ear, marveling at his female. Adorable and sexy, all at once. “I’ll grant you a reprieve. But know that it’s reluctant and verra temporary.”
“Good.” She was dreamily running the pads of her fingers over his chest.
He’d sought peace with her, and he’d found it. Will felt right with the world for the first time. He could recognize that feeling just by virtue of how long he’d felt wrong.
Chloe had given him this. He’d conquered and claimed. And, gods, so had she.
“I still can’t believe you kept your beast on the leash.”
He shrugged modestly, though he was damn proud of himself. “You’ll only see it on the night of the full moon, if that’s your wish.”
“Can it hear me?”
“Aye.” He let it stir. “Try now.”
She cupped his face, gazing into his eyes. “You were so good tonight. In one month’s time I’ll have the sweetest treats for you.”
Putting the beast to bed, Will said, “And what treats are those? A Lykae’s curiosity is a powerful thing.”
“I know,” she murmured with a coy grin, even as her lids were growing heavier. “You’ll have to wait to see, MacRieve.”
He curled a finger under her chin. “Will.”
“Hmm?”
“I want you to call me Will.”
His name on her lips and a smile on her face, she fell asleep, with him still inside her.
FIFTY
You’re deft at this,” MacRieve told her as they practiced attacks and parries with swords.
For the last four days, he’d been training her to use various weapons, so she could protect herself. Though he’d had to admit, “You’re so strong, you could probably just crush your opponents.”
Chloe had never in her life felt so powerful—or so connected to another being. If she thought she’d been energized from sex before, she’d seen nothing. Evidently, now that her big Scot was in love with her and they were mated both ways, he was providing only the highest-grade energy. If she were still playing sports, his stuff would be banned.
And MacRieve—or rather, Will—was stronger than he’d ever been. She was trying to remember to call him Will, but it would take a while.
He thrust his sword with a quick jab.
She easily deflected it. “Sword-fighting is just like soccer. Read opponent, adjust tactic, misdirect. I am going to be so bad-ass at this.”
He scratched his head with one hand while he twirled his sword with the other. “You kind of already are.”
“So are there any Lore competitions I could enter?” Today would’ve been check-in for the Olympics training camp. And even though a fascinating new life was opening up for her, she still missed aspects of her old one.
“There’s one competition. We old ones like to call it survival.”
She laughed. “Smart-ass.”
He grinned. “Doona worry. If you’ve got a skill in the Lore, there will be someone around to test you. Especially during an Accession. But then, I have a feeling you’ll enjoy war. It’s like sports, though sudden death actually means death.” He subtly telegraphed to the left, then struck to the right.
She blocked and misdirected with a two-handed strike upward—only to change it midair to a one-handed sweep.
MacRieve barely blocked it, raising his brows again. “You vow you’ve never held a blade in your hands?”
“It’s in my blood, remember?” With a saucy grin, she brushed off one shoulder, then the other. “Raw talent. Rookie phenom. At least I won’t embarrass myself with the new sword-fighting fam.”
He’d relayed all that had occurred in the Ubus Realm. She’d been amazed by the developments, convinced, as he was, that everything had been fated.
That littlest hope-spark? Now an inferno, never to be extinguished.
The morning after the full moon, she’d wanted to let her new kin know that she was okay, but there’d been no need. They’d found a note from Nieve affixed to the front door:
Judging by the shock waves originating from Conall Keep throughout the night, we assume you’ve made a complete recovery—and that Uilleam MacRieve, Lord of Conall, is indeed your fated mate. Please do us the honor of joining us for our Cider Fair. . . .
The fair was this weekend, and MacRieve had readily agreed to take her: “They healed my mate. For that, I’ll even be civil to Nieve.”
In truth, she was a little embarrassed to see them again. By now everyone in that realm would know she’d been hauled off by a ravenous werewolf for Richter-scale sex under the full moon. That was probably scandalous, even to the Ubus.
She shrugged. Oh, well, I’ll be sure to wear red.
Only a few things marred her honeymoon with MacRieve. One was his unrelenting remorse over the way he’d treated her. She made sure to jank him continually for all his misconceptions, which seemed to ease his guilt.
Yesterday he’d drawn her close, saying against her hair, “I canna get enough of you, Chloe. Gods help me, I know I never will.”
“I’m sure it’s just my strew—oh, wait . . .”
He’d nipped her neck, making her squeal with laughter.
Her confusion over her father was another source of worry. When she and MacRieve talked late into the night, they’d discussed his childhood and Ruelle, his parents—and her dad.
By clinging to some tenuous belief in his goodness, was she being loyal—or willfully blind? MacRieve had been grievously harmed by him. Immortals all over the Lore had. Her relatives believed Preston Webb had killed Chloe’s own mother. Yet she didn’t feel right passing judgment until she’d heard his side of the story.
Which might never happen.
For MacRieve’s part, he’d relinquished his urge for vengeance, explaining, “I canna kill my mate’s sire. I’m too much in his debt. Without him, no Chloe.”
Now MacRieve said, “I doona understand why Munro has no’ rung me back.”
Another worry. He couldn’t get in touch with his brother.
MacRieve had left his first message for Munro the day after the full moon. She remembered him placing his pho
ne on the bathroom counter just before they’d taken their first shower together.
She shivered to recall that shower. MacRieve had knelt before her, placing a hand over her belly. “When you’re ready, I’m goin’ tae put a babe in here.” His hand had been so hot, even in the water. “Mayhap even twins.” He’d gazed up at her, his eyes flickering. “Honor me so?”
Breathless, she’d only been able to nod.
“Tha gràdh agam ort, Chloe. I love you. And I’m about tae show you how much.” Then he’d leisurely—lovingly—washed her from head to toe, still learning her body. When she’d done the same to him, one thing led to another.
By the time he’d finally released her to get dressed, the water had grown cold and she’d been grinning ear to ear like she’d just medaled. Since then, they always shared showers. As he’d repeated, “We like to conserve water around here.”
And so it went with them.
“Has Munro ever gone this long without calling?” she asked.
“Since telephones were invented, Munro has never no’ returned my calls. I worry.” In a gruffer tone, he said, “Feels strange to be apart from him again.”
She couldn’t imagine how it must feel to be separated from one’s twin, wondering if he was safe and well. “Let’s give it to the end of the day. If no one at the compound has seen him, then we’ll return to Louisiana.”
He lowered his sword. “You’d miss the fair with your family?”
“Munro’s my family too,” she said, making MacRieve’s brows draw tight with feeling. “Why don’t you go try him again? I’ll chill for a bit.”
He nodded. “Doona leave the immediate grounds, no?” After giving her a sweet kiss, he jogged off.
Alone, she strolled through the courtyard, treading upon cobblestones where countless MacRieves had walked, long before Will was born.
God, this place was so beautiful. Over these four days, he’d drilled into her head that this was her home. “Conall belongs to you as much as to me. You’re Chloe MacRieve, lady of this keep.” She could invite whomever she wanted, could decorate it however she chose.
She wouldn’t touch a thing, already found it perfect. Finally, she lived in a home with character. No McMansion here!