Dragon's Moon (32 page)

It would do no good the way he could scent her deceptions.

“The Éan are not so limiting about acts of sex between Chrechte as your father's pack,” Eirik reminded her.

The words did nothing to soothe her. The Donegal pack had not been, either, but Ciara's own views were exactly that.
Her own.
She did not expect others to share them, but nor could he expect the difference between their viewpoints to bring her no pain, either.

“My mother taught me that sex is a sacred act.” And Abigail's teachings had supported that belief.

“It can be,” Eirik said in surprisingly easy agreement. “It will be between us.”

“I…” She tried to roll away from him, a hollow pit opening up inside her she wished
she
could ignore. “Maybe we should—”

But he held her fast and nuzzled into her neck. “We should engage in this
sacred act
. It has never been thus for me before. I have never marked another with my scent.”

“You marked her when you came inside her.” And she still had no idea how many
hers
they were talking about, was not sure she ever
wanted to know
.

“I have never allowed my seed to spill inside another woman.” He leaned above her, his eyes demanding she believe him.

She had never heard of such a thing, but then her actual knowledge of sex was rather more limited than she had
implied earlier in their conversation. “How did you have sex then?”

“With hands and mouths.”

Like they had just done? The thought made her ill. She tried to move away from him again.

But he held fast, forcing their gazes to lock with the sheer force of his will. “Do not reject me as your mate because I cannot come to you as untouched as you come to me. I have never marked any other with my scent. None but you will ever be allowed that part of me.”

His words were a vow, but still she ached inside. “You did not let your essence spill on those other women?” Did not rub it into their skin as he had done with hers.

“No. I never wanted to.”

“But—”

“To do so would have been to claim them for my dragon, for my raven. That I would not do.”

The full import of his words sank in and she shook her head, refuting their meaning, but knowing there was no way to undo what had been done. Had known since their first touch this night.

Nevertheless, she said, “I'm not taking you for a mate.” The words came out hollow and even she could not believe them, regardless of how hard she tried to.

“You already have.”

“No.” He had claimed her, but she had not claimed him back. Had she?

“Your wolf knows.”

“No.” It was as good as done, but it was not done. Not yet. Was it?

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“We can argue tomorrow. Right now, let me have you. Please, Ciara?” The pleading in his voice touched her like nothing else could have.

She was certain he'd never begged another woman.

She reached up and touched his lips with wonder. “Do princes say please?”

“For you, this prince will.” He thrust his hardness against her hip, making her aware of the desire driving him. “Only for you. My mate.”

“Tomorrow.”
She knew that one word promised far more than she wanted it to, but she was helpless to deny him.

Or herself.

He began kissing her again, his mouth demanding she submit to the claiming. She kissed him back with aggression, telling him with her lips that she was not the only one who would be submitting to a claim this night.

He rumbled against her and she smiled at his dragon making his presence known, but when Eirik broke the kiss to rub neck to neck, she knew that was his raven giving its approval of their joining. And tears of inexplicable joy pricked her eyes.

Allowing her wolf its own desires, Ciara pushed against him with her body, writhing against him, mixing their scents, and reveling in the joy of skin on skin. And the kiss continued, their lips nibbling at each other, his tongue invading her mouth, hers pushing back to taste his.

His hands started moving over her, big warrior's hands that caressed with a gentleness that should not have been possible. He brushed his fingers down her neck, over her collarbone, across her shoulder, down her arm; and everywhere he touched, he left a firestorm of pleasure in his wake.

He cupped her breast, his thumb brushing over her turgid nipple and she keened in delight. She could no more help herself than she could stop breathing. That small caress went clear through her body and landed in her womb with a convulsion of desire.

And Ciara felt an emptiness in her core that she knew only he could fill.

Her hips moved restlessly, her thighs falling apart in an atavistic invitation she could not have prevented if she had tried.

One big hand slid down and accepted the invitation, fondling that place no one had ever touched before.

“You are wet,” he whispered into her ear.

She did not know what to say to that. The fragrance of
her desire for him was undeniable and she could feel the moisture between her legs as surely as she could feel the beat of her own heart so fast in her chest.

“Soft, silky…so hot.” Each word accompanied another soft caress to the oh-so-tender flesh. Then his thumb hit a spot that made her cry out with the sharpness of the pleasure.

“That's right,
faolán
. Sing for me.”

She gasped. “Wolves don't sing.”

“Don't they?” He brushed that spot again, this time with a swirling motion that prolonged the intense pleasure.

And she keened.

She moved against his hand, wanting something, not sure what. “Please, Eirik…”

“What do you want, sweet one?”

“I don't know.”

“I do.”

She nodded desperately. She was sure he did.

One blunt warrior's finger breached her body, slipping inside and claiming her on another level.

“Yes…more…I want that…” she babbled as he moved that finger, making her body shake with delight.

He pressed deep, hitting something inside her that hurt and she flinched away. He pulled his finger back, but not all the way out. “That is your maidenhead,
faolán
. My cock will breach the barrier and you will be mine.”

She did not argue. What would be the point? They would both know the words for the lie they would be.

And she wanted it. Him inside her where no other man would ever be allowed.

He came over her, his straining arousal rubbing between her thighs and pleasuring that spot he'd found so unerringly with his finger. “Do you accept me into your body, Ciara?”

Recognition of the beginning of the Chrechte bonding rite sent alarm spiraling through her with the pleasure. She'd accepted they would join their bodies, but this was more than a physical mating. He was demanding she pledge herself to him until death.

That harsh reality that claimed all too many of those she had loved already.

She wanted to deny him, needed to push him away, stop this before it went further and their actions led to the inevitable terrifying conclusion.

But she could not. That part of her heart he had brought back to life would not let her.

He would not hurt her. Death was a cruel master, but would it be any less a cruelty to lose him without the vows?

And she knew in that instant that it would not.

She loved him with every bit of her heart that had been broken and healed to the best of its ability.

She was no fool. She did not believe that for all Eirik wanted her that he loved her as well, but her heart belonged to him. Vows spoken or not.

He waited above her, his body drawing shivers of bliss from her.

“I'm…this is just supposed to be…tomorrow…” The words came out as disjointed as her thoughts.

He brushed his fingertips down her cheek. “Shh. Do not make this complicated. Your wolf knows what she wants. You know what
you
want.” He thrust downward with his hips, making his arousal press tantalizingly against her most sensitive flesh, drawing a moan of desire from her. “Tell me you accept me into your body.”

One should believe in marriage as in the immortality of the soul.

—H
ONORÉ DE
B
ALZAC

C
iara opened her mouth to deny him, despite her new inner knowledge, but “Yes, I accept you” came out instead. And in the ancient language of the Chrechte.

Tears of fear tracked a path down her temples, though a feeling of exultation filled her as well.

He kissed her temples, sipping at her tears and whispering words of comfort in Chrechte before saying, “I join my body with yours. I give my dragon to you. You are keeper of my raven.”

“I forsake all others for you.” That at least was an easy promise to make. She would never allow another to touch her heart or her body the way Eirik had.

“And I give my seed only to you.”

She wanted that promise as much as she had never wanted the risk of having children. And a part of her she had buried long ago birthed a craving for a babe with Eirik's amber eyes and regal bearing.

“Now and forever.”

“Now and forever,” he repeated. And then he shifted so
the blunt, broad tip of his manhood pressed against her opening. “Mine. From this night forward.”

“Yours.”

He thrust forward, stretching her, filling her, making his words truth in a way she would never again be able to deny.

Her wolf purred in approval despite the dull ache of him pressing against the barrier inside her body. She tilted her hips, allowing him to penetrate farther, and she felt the tearing sensation inside that meant her body was no longer innocent of carnal desires. Though, if the truth be told, it hadn't been since his first kiss.

She had fought it, but this outcome had been inevitable from the initial brush of his lips against hers.

She did not complain about the pain because already pleasure fought for supremacy in her body. He continued to press steadily forward, his face showing the strain of the slow penetration.

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “We are joined.”

He turned into the touch and once again her wolf purred.

“We are one,” he replied in ancient Chrechte.

She gasped, his words going through her with the power of a winter storm's thunder. He reached beyond her and only when he shifted again could she see why. He'd grabbed her dirk.

The sharp blade shined in the moonlight. “We spill blood to consecrate our union.” Again he spoke in the language of their people.

His words the only warning she got before he sliced the palm of his hand and then waited for her to offer her hand. It was a rite so ancient, few Faol even knew about it.

Her mother had told her once though, in her mad ramblings after Ciara's father's death. Her mother had described the bonding of their souls in this rite. She'd been insensible with grief but had claimed it was worth all the pain that came after.

Ciara looked at the blood dripping down Eirik's hand onto his wrist and knew he meant their mating to be as sacred and true as possible for the Chrechte. She did not
know if it was an Éan thing, or because he was a prince, but his expectation was clear.

She would shed more than the blood of her maidenhead this night.

He did not rush her but remained still above her, his hardness filling her feminine core, his body covering hers in possession and protection.

The time for trying to hold back had passed. With solemnity she had only experienced when spreading her family's ashes, Ciara lifted her hand, palm up. Eirik did not smile, but his approval glowed in his amber gaze.

He cut a tiny prick on her palm, not even one tenth as long as the cut he had made on his own.

But her blood welled and he pressed their palms together. Their blood mingled, growing unnaturally hot between their palms. The wind swirled around them in a rush of air, leaves and other loose detritus from the forest floor, though nothing but the air touched them. Crimson light flashed and then the white light that accompanied her shift into the wolf.

She felt like she'd been hit by lightning, her entire body burning. But it did not hurt; it was a pleasure so great, she was not sure she could bear it.

Eirik's head was thrown back, his face contorted in ecstasy as she felt his heat spread inside her. Her body convulsed, her womb cramping, her vaginal walls clamping onto his shaft so tightly he could not have moved were he making the effort to do so.

She felt his dragon, the power, the fire, the strength and the need for her. Then the raven, the keen senses, the joy in flight and the abhorrence in killing at odds with the dragon's predatory instincts. The raven agreed with the dragon on its need for her though.

Her wolf reached out to soothe both beasts, sharing her own need to hunt, to run under the moonlight and to mark that which was hers.