Moon Burning (13 page)

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Authors: Lucy Monroe

BOOK: Moon Burning
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“’Tis not seemly for a woman to wager,” Circin teased.
And received a cuff to his head for his efforts. “I’ll show you seemly.”
“You’ll show him more respect than that if you want this clan to accept him as laird one day,” Earc said dryly.
Showing she knew a tease when she heard one, Verica gave him a wry smile. “Aye, when we’re around others, but in private, he’s still my little brother.”
“What am I then? Of no account in your eyes?” The humor drained away as fast as it had come. He did not like that prospect one bit.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out as a strange expression dawned on her features.
Circin laughed, the sound startling in the now-tension-filled cottage. “She sees you like family, or as near as. She never knocks me around in front of anyone else.”
“I don’t knock you around at all.” Verica smacked his arm, belying her outraged claim.
Circin and Earc both laughed while Verica blushed a sweet pink.
“We should go to sleep.” She did her best to sound bossy, but the way she worried her pleats both revealed her true inner feelings and charmed him.
“So, you think of me as a close friend?” He knew what kind of closeness he wanted to have with her and it had nothing to do with friendship.
The slight flaring of her delicate nostrils indicated she recognized his desire as well. Circin had to be able to smell Earc’s growing hunger for the man’s sister. Rather than looking alarmed by it, as she did, or offended, as Earc might about his
own
sister (rational reaction or not), Circin appeared contemplative. Earc wasn’t sure he liked that any better.
He knew what
he’d
be contemplating if the situation were reversed. Marriage. Mating. Permanence. Whether the other warrior was ready or not.
Verica looked between them, a frown marring her beautiful features. “You two may do what you like, but I’m going to bed.”
“You dinna answer my question.” He caught her arm as she would have swept by him.
Time seemed to slow down and then stop as an unseen force arced between them, making his cock hard and the breath seize in his chest. Her body jerked, but she swayed toward him rather than pulling away.
Her lips parted invitingly, the scent of her desire teasing his sexual hunger to a sharp pang. And the scent of something beyond her wolf washed over him in an intoxicating rush.
“Verica!” Circin’s near panic cut through the growing haze of lust between them. “What are you doing?”
She jerked back, her face going ashen. She stared at Earc as if he’d grown another head—or suddenly changed into Rowland before her eyes. “I . . .”
“You need to go to bed.” For the first time, Circin sounded like a man who would one day be laird.
She nodded, her eyes filled with an anguish Earc could not understand. No matter how far gone to passion they were, he would never have taken her with her brother in the room.
Her reaction was far beyond what the situation warranted.
Was she that bothered by the thought of being with him?
The leftover fear in Circin’s eyes was all out of proportion as well.
“She will take a mate one day.”
Circin nodded, his expression going grim. “I merely hope he is worthy of all her trust and affection.”
Since it was a sentiment any brother should feel, Earc didn’t reply. Instead he banked the fire for sleeping, which he and Circin did, rolled in their plaids near the door.
Chapter 8
B
arr woke wrapped around his new mate.
The scent of
other
was strong, having become a fragrance he did not think he could do without. She fit him so perfectly. Though slender and fine boned, she was a wee bit taller than most females, making her just right for him. She curled into his body as if she’d slept there all their lives.
He did not think she was a great deal younger than him, which put her past the age when most women married. Which did not mean she was unpromised. He went rigid at the thought of her being committed to someone else. She had been untouched, but that did not mean no claim had been made on her.
“What is the matter?” she asked sleepily as she turned onto her back so their eyes could meet.
Even this proof she was so closely connected to him that she felt his agitation in her sleep did not assuage his need for an immediate answer. “Does someone else think they have a claim on you?”
Shadows filled her brown eyes, but she shook her head.
“You are certain.”
“It is not a thing I would forget.”
“You mean like your clan?”
She grimaced and then frowned at him as if he were responsible for the bit of fiction that was her memory loss. “I am promised to no man.”
“You are promised to me now.”
“No.”
“You spoke your Chrechte vow last night. It cannot be unsaid.” She looked away. He would not allow her to avoid this, however. ’Twas too important. “Do not deny me.”
Suddenly she rolled toward him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding tight. She trembled against him, her heart beating fast, a sense of sadness he did not understand surrounding her.
“Sabrine? Tell me what ails you,” he demanded.
She tilted her head back and met his gaze with deeply troubled eyes, his sweet Chrechte mate not one to hide from difficulty. “No other man has claim on me as you do.”
“No other ever will.”
“No other,” she agreed.
“You are mine.”
“While I am here.”
He shook his hair in fierce denial. “Always.”
She swallowed as if trying to hold back a deep well of emotion. “I will never give another what I give you now.”
She would learn she did not have to try to hide her emotions from him. Everything she was was safe with him.
“Nay, you will not.” Satisfaction surged through him.
Even knowing that as his almost certain true mate, she was not capable of physically betraying him, he liked hearing her promise.
She laughed softly. “You’re an arrogant man, laird.”
“And you are a woman of rare beauty.” He had never met a woman with such delicate features, put together so finely.
“No other thinks so.”
That he did not believe. “The males of your former home must have impaired vision.”
She tensed, but said nothing.
“When I found no mate among the Sinclairs, I gave up hope of finding one. Then Talorc asked me to come here and lead this clan until Circin was ready to take over and I hoped again. Never did I think I would find you naked in the forest.”
“I never thought to find one such as you at all, especially among the Faol.”
“No other man could be right for you.”
“I would never allow another this close.” The fierceness in her expression allowed no room for doubt.
“I am glad you waited for me.”
She shook her head, once again trying to hide emotion from him.
“Do not hide from me.”
“I do not hide,” she said harshly. Then her gaze softened, no mask covering the sorrow that should not be there. “I cannot promise you a lifetime.”
“No one knows what tomorrow may bring.”
Her body relaxed in obvious relief, giving him his first moment of real worry about their future. She did not believe they were true mates. That was all. Once she realized the truth, she would settle into her life with him.
Until then, he would reinforce his claim on her through the connection of their bodies.
He cupped the gentle swell of her buttocks, kneading them as he rubbed their bodies together.
“Mmmm . . . that feels nice.” She moved with him, her body arching like a cat. “You’re so warm.”
“It is my wolf.”
“I like it.”
A thought niggled at the back of his mind—why wasn’t she just as warm-blooded as he? But it was lost in the heat between them.
Their spent passion lay heavily in the air around them, now mixed with the perfume of their renewed mutual desire.
He leaned down and took her mouth in a devouring kiss. The need for her to know she was his drove his passion as surely as the consuming hunger between them. To taste her mouth was to want . . . nay, need another sip, and another, and another until their flavors were so mixed there was no distinguishing between them. Not even for his Chrechte nature.
She was every bit as involved, her hunger just as wild, her response unfettered by her recent innocence. It sent lightning arcing through him, the storm of craving growing until thunder pounded in his veins instead of blood.
The connection between them was unlike anything he’d experienced with his previous partners. He’d found release in sex. He’d even found a certain level of physical pleasure he thought worth returning to for more. He had not known what it meant to really join with another, to feel the connection of their bodies in that place where his soul must reside. This thing between them gave credence to the ancient legends about true mates forming a mystical bond that went beyond mindspeak.
No one had had such in his lifetime, but his gran-da used to tell stories of such things along with the tall tales about other tribes of Chrechte besides the wolves.
But he could feel her emotions, as if they were his own. However, he knew they were not. The underlying sorrow, determination and fear did not begin in his heart. They came from hers. As did the exultation, delight and shock as he sensed she realized the fierce possessiveness and masculine satisfaction were coming from him.
She reared back from him, her eyes wide with fear. “Is this the normal way of things?” She sucked in air, but her breathing remained erratic. “I cannot believe it is. No one has ever spoken of anything like this . . . this mind joining in my hearing.”
“’Tis not our minds that are joined, it’s our souls.”
“Does it always happen this way for you?” Her voice echoed with both hope and abhorrence at the thought that it did.
It was the hope that prompted him to provoke her a wee bit. “I thought you dinna want to hear about my previous experiences with sex.”
The fear washed away in pure feminine annoyance, the hope completely eclipsed by the abhorrence. Giving a fair imitation of a growl, she demanded. “Tell me.”
“No, ’tis special, just between us.”
“We’re
not
true mates.”
He didn’t bother to answer; his mind was otherwise occupied, and not by her delectable curves or the rolling emotions flowing between them. A wolf did not have to make a sound
like
a growl. Wolves just growled. She was not wolf, but she
was
Chrechte.
The ancient tales were not mere entertainment.
They were true
. There were other tribes of Chrechte, but how had they hidden themselves?
Fear spiked over the bond between them and then another wash of almost desperate determination, its source feeling slightly different than when he’d first encountered it via this unusual bond.
“Stop thinking,” she instructed in a sultry voice.
Even though part of him knew she was using their intimacy to distract his thoughts, her tone and the carnal yearning coming from her made any thought not directly related to his now-weeping cock impossible.
She
kissed
him
this time, her hot, sweet mouth making a claim his wolf howled absolute approval for.
She touched him, exploring his body with her small, delicate hands. That enhanced connection pulsed in the air between them, once again combining their emotions, ravishing his senses with her unabashed wanting.
Every caress went to that place inside him he swore was his very soul.
In her primal passion, she had an otherworldly beauty that defied words or expectations. She was no mere woman, definitely not human. She was a Chrechte warrior princess of old.
Sabrine pressed against his shoulder and he rolled onto his back without protest. With all the strength he sensed inside her, she could not force him to submit to her lead, but as her mate he could give his beautiful lover this gift. And give it he would.
She would see that she did not have to hide her true nature from him, that he was strong enough to both protect her and meet her as an equal as the Chrechte had done amongst themselves for millennia.
She straddled him, a wild smile tilting her bow-shaped lips. “It is my turn to take you.”
The pleased satisfaction that came over her features showed she had felt his desire for her to do just that. This was the way of the ancient Chrechte mating. Living among the human clans had led to some of the Chrechte taking on many of the restrictions men and women felt they needed to live by. He was glad she was not so encumbered by human mores.
She positioned her sex against his erection and they both moaned at the delight of it.
“You are certain you are up to this?” he found himself asking, though he had not intended to do so.

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