Autumn Moon (13 page)

“If you don't want my help, then go for a run. It will heal after you shift.” But she was determined to see what damage she'd caused before he did and continued to tug at the cotton hem.

He snagged her wrists midair, holding her in the vise of his grip. “You can burn me to cinders, drown me, force me to shift a hundred times in a row—but you are not leaving this room until you hear me out.”

Ouch.
Well deserved, given their history, but words too can burn. “You were nicer to me as a wolf.” A petty accusation after what she'd just done, but she was too heartbroken to care. “You would never have treated me this way.”

“You're right,” he agreed too softly. It was the tone a predator used to taunt its prey, and a warning shiver trickled down her spine. “And I would never have done this either.”

His mouth descended to capture hers. She wasn't prepared, hadn't relaxed her lips, and he came in so quickly that their teeth collided. His kiss was untried and stiff, and he tasted of wine, and fury, and carnal needs too long repressed. It was messy and unsophisticated and she had never been so thoroughly undone.

He wrenched himself away with a snarl, but he did not loosen his grip.

No, he used that leverage to push her farther up against the frame of the door, forcing her legs to widen and wrap around his waist. This time there were no layers of skirts to buffer their contact, only his jeans and her thin pajamas over lace undies—and she felt his arousal as surely as she felt her own. She didn't know whether to cry or climax and very well might do both if he didn't stop rocking against her core.

“As I was saying . . .” His lips dropped to the underside of her ear as his breath fanned against her heated skin. “There is no need for you to flirt with me.” He thrust against her with the hard evidence of his proclamation. His angle was perfect. Whether by instinct or intuition, she didn't know, but if not for their clothes, he would be inside her. “I'm not sure”—his
voice, low and strained, dropped off as a shudder racked his frame—“if I would survive it if you did.”

She felt the building of pressure, the tightening of her lower belly that cried for release. Her thin lace panties provided the perfect friction with his thrusts. He
really
needed to stop. “Cormack—”

“Ask me why I haven't lain with a woman.” When she remained speechless, he nipped the column of her neck—an act of a wolf to his mate. “Ask me!”

A wave of pleasure shot from the brand of his bite to other, more central nerves that needed no enticements. She was so close. It was cruel of him to play with her this way. “Why?” she asked anyway, because—damn it all—she wanted to know.

A ragged groan concaved his chest as his forehead fell to the painted wood behind her head. After several breaths, he released her arms only for the freedom to cup her face. By then she had no will to fight. His hips and thighs, and other things, kept her wedged on a precipice of pleasure.

Then he lifted his face, and his expression was openly haunted; it bared his soul without caring of its destruction. It was the look of the already damned. “Because I have been waiting for the woman I love.”

“Who?” She had to hear him say it, she simply had to. “Who is this woman?”

“Do you really have to ask, Elen?”

“Yes.” She nodded as blood pounded against her temples. “Yes, I do.”

“You hold my heart in your hands, and even if you don't want it, it won't matter because I am lost either way. I am yours. Do with me as you will.”

Elen swayed into him, because some wishes were too overwhelming when they came true, and she had never wanted one more than this. “If you are lost, then so am I.” She grasped his shirt because she needed purchase for her hands as her world filled with glorious colors. “I love you, Cormack.”

“I know you do,” he said quietly, “but I question in what capacity.”

If she weren't on the brink of utter gratification, she may have been more patient in her explanation, but as it was, she could hardly think to form a coherent sentence. “I am about to ease all doubts.” She initiated their second kiss and didn't hold back. If he needed proof, then so be it. She ran her tongue along the fullness of his lips until he allowed her entrance with a tortured moan, meeting her tongue with his. His rocking motions became more aggressive; it was a
carnal reaction, unpracticed and crude as primal compulsions demanded release. He was unaware, she suspected, of the effect it had on her.

“Elen,” he growled into her mouth, concerned—and divinely naïve. “You're shaking.”

“I'm not cold,” she cried, recalling the last time he'd misunderstood her tremors. “Don't stop.” Too desperate to explain, but needing a different angle and harder pressure, she reached back, grabbed the doorframe, digging her fingers around the wood—and arched. “Please don't stop.” The friction built, and she was beyond thought, dignity and all reason as her pleasure reached its peak. And then—
finally
—wave after wave washed through her until she was spent and gasping in his arms.

Cormack held her in the vise of his embrace, completely unmoving, a fact she realized as reality returned. And when she opened her eyes, his hungry gaze devoured her, still needy but filled with awe. “That was the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.”

“Oh, Cormack . . .” Elen leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. “You haven't seen anything yet. Take me upstairs.” She placed a kiss on the corded muscles just under his jaw, reveling in the shudder that racked his body from that simple caress. “We've only just begun.”

A muffled ring came from Cormack's back pocket.

He tensed, and then snarled as the sound registered.
“Fuck no!”
If not twisted with need, his scowl might have been comical.
“Fuck,”
he repeated again in contradiction to his gentle motions as he set her on her feet. “It's official,” he mumbled under his breath as the ring continued, “I've done something to piss off the Gods.” Reaching back, he wrenched the phone from his pocket and brought it to his ear. “What,” he answered in a clipped tone that made the harmless word sound more offensive than his previous curse.

She watched with admiration for how well he'd adjusted to his new role as a guard, a position that wasn't easily earned.

“At the clinic?” Annoyance left his voice as he listened, replaced by controlled concern. “Who?” A pause. “Are you sure?”

Then the shrill sound of her clinic alarm echoed from the kitchen. Adrenaline immediately kicked in because nobody sought her help unless all other options were gone.

His lips formed a tight line as he ended the call. “That was Gabriel.”

“What's happened?”

“Melissa's hurt. My brother-in-law's waiting with her at the clinic. That's all I know.”

The child was Cormack's last surviving relative. Elen didn't make comforting promises but ran upstairs to change. She returned in less than a minute, grabbing her keys. The clinic was within walking distance, but it would be quicker if they drove. “Let's go.”

*   *   *

With a swift tug, Cormack zippered his jacket closed to hide his singed shirt. Gabriel stood beside the concealed entrance of the clinic and offered a sharp nod at their approach. Of Spanish and Celt decent, he had the golden skin of his mother's people. Eyes so black it was hard to tell where his pupils ended and his irises began. He was a powerful shifter, and he kept the violence of his past untold, but his hatred of the Guardians was as pure as his unnerving gaze.

“How bad?” Cormack asked.

“Not an emergency that belongs here.” Gabriel's lips
thinned with annoyance, an odd reaction when his niece may be hurt. “You'll see.”

Curiosity cluttered his concern as Cormack followed Elen through the doors of the clinic. Edward, his brother by marriage and now a widower raising a child on his own, sat in a waiting chair, his right arm wrapped in a towel blotched with blood. A large dog carrier made of cream-colored plastic rested by his feet, concealing whatever it held.

“Where's Melissa?” Cormack looked around the room for his niece, and then back at the carrier. His foul mood increased by the second.

A sigh racked Edward's reedy frame as he lifted his hands in apology. “I didn't know what else to do.” More human than wolf, the man couldn't shift. He had dark hair and bright eyes, a coloring bolder than his personality; Edward was content to let others protect his family. Cormack didn't dislike him; he just didn't have much in common with him, which had always made their visits awkward, even before the death of his sister.

Walking ahead, Elen crouched in front of the carrier and peeked through the grated door. A jolt of surprise forced her to drop to her knees—and then her gaze lifted to his. “All is well,” she reassured him with awe in her voice. “The Goddess has blessed us once again. Melissa isn't hurt, she's whole.”

Smiling, she unlatched the metal door of the carrier, and a red wolf pup came waddling out, looked around the room and then launched herself into Cormack's arms with excited yelps. At five years of age, Melissa hadn't been able to shift until now.

Hugging her close, he nuzzled her soft fur. Children were rare gifts among their kind—and new shifters nonexistent
until the past few years. Including Melissa, he only knew of two children who could call their wolves. Bittersweet emotions clogged his throat. This had been Taran's greatest wish.

Playful and testing, as all young ones were, Melissa gnawed at Cormack's arm. He growled softly until she calmed, and then he focused on Edward. “You kept her in a dog crate?” Gabriel's earlier displeasure finally made sense.

“I can't control her like this. She doesn't listen.” In his own defense, Edward held up his bloodied arm. “And she bites to harm.”

“Wolves are guided by authority,” Cormack explained as anger turned to frustration. If the man had even an ounce of dominance in his personality, he would not be having this issue. Taran had been the alpha wolf in that relationship, and Melissa obviously took after her mother.

Elen went over to Edward and nodded at his makeshift bandage. “May I take a look?”

He flinched back, shaking his head. “It will heal. I'm here for my daughter because I don't know what else to do. She doesn't listen to me anymore, and I'm afraid she'll run off and get hurt or attack one of the other children.”

Shunned yet again, Elen's hands fell to her sides. “If that's your wish, I won't force my help on you.”

With controlled motions, Cormack placed his niece on the floor before closing the distance, purposely crowding the man and dominating his space. “Melissa lives because of Elen's care, and you will show her the respect she deserves.” He spoke in a tone that dared refusal. “Allow her to look at your arm.”

Edward looked both ashamed and lost. He had loved Taran, but she had been beyond help after protecting their
child with her own life. Was it his sister's ultimate selflessness that had granted this rare gift? He suspected it was.

Keeping his gaze to the floor, Edward submitted to the command. Cormack gestured for Elen to continue. She hesitated only a moment before unwinding the towel and prodding gently around his torn skin.

“I would like to stitch this up,” she said, “if you will let me. Or if you would step outside, I am confident I can heal it with—”

“Needle and thread,” Edward interrupted as his legs twitched nervously. “No enchantments. You can do it right here, and then I'll bring Melissa home. I shouldn't have come.”

Cormack gritted his teeth when Elen gave a soft sigh, grateful he'd thought to grab a jacket to hide his shirt. She retrieved a small medical kit from a cabinet on the wall, washed the wound, administered a pain reducer and bent her head to the task without complaint or comment as the man flinched at every touch.

“You will visit my brother before you return home,” she said while applying a clean bandage. “This news shouldn't have been kept from him. Cormack and I will follow you there.”

Cormack's voice dropped low as he pulled her away from curious ears. “Merin will be there. Are you up for this tonight?”

“Not really,” she admitted while her gaze dropped to his mouth. “I'd rather go home and be with you.”

“Don't,” he warned as selfish need pounded blood through his veins, wanting to feel that mouth under his once again. Now that he knew his niece was safe, his former state of frustration quickly rose.

She blinked at him innocently. “Don't what?”

“Flirt.” Just because he couldn't resist, he led her around the corner and into a private room, and then pressed her against the closed door. “I've already warned you. I will not be responsible for my actions if you do. I've waited too long.”

Damn her if she didn't arch and run her hands down his chest to linger on his waistband. “And I haven't?” Her hand feathered down to rest on the obnoxious bulge that now strained against his pants.

“Elen,” he hissed, “
please
.” He'd come damn close to spilling his seed at the same time she'd unraveled in his arms—and he would be there again if she continued.

“Please what?” Her lips curled in satisfaction, and he couldn't help but lean down and claim her mouth. So soft, her lips were, parting with a sigh. And she tasted of oranges and sweetness, and if she didn't stop those noises, he was going to take her on a hospital cot.

“Not here,” he growled when she playfully nipped his bottom lip. Not with family outside waiting, and more at Rhuddin Hall; he wanted their first time to be without distractions.
Bloody hell
, did they not deserve that at least? Somehow he managed to drag his mouth away. Panting, he rested his forehead against the door above her head. He gave a frustrated sigh and yanked her hand away.

If it didn't involve his family, and hers, Cormack would have sent Gabriel, but his pride refused not to be present where honor dictated he should. Walking a distance away for his own sanity, Cormack held up his hand when she would follow. “Give me a minute.” He dialed Porter and provided an update on recent events. After his eager appendage calmed, they returned to the waiting room. He scooped up his niece in one arm and the crate in the other, handing the vile contraption to Gabriel on the way out.
“We're headed to Rhuddin Hall to tell Dylan. Can you burn this?”

“With pleasure.” Gabriel ruffled Melissa's ears, and Cormack felt her tail whack against his side. “This is a good day.”

“Her father is weak.” Cormack didn't care if the man heard. He would raise her himself, but he doubted Edward would relinquish that role. He may be a passive man, but he loved his daughter.

“We'll help him,” Gabriel replied, “for Taran.”