Moon Burning (25 page)

“You are overlarge maybe.”

“Chrechte men are not small.”

“Then you might think Chrechte females would be created to accommodate them,” she said in a strained voice as her body continued to fight the pain of his initial invasion.

“You are.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“My da and my brothers.”

“Hah. All males.” What did they know?

“Do you trust me?” Earc demanded in a tone she could not ignore.

She stared up into his gaze. “Yes.”

“Relax your body.”

“You’ll move.”

“I won’t.”

She wanted to ask him to promise, but knew he would find such lack of trust a direct negation of what she had just said.

I will not move,
he said, using their true bond connection, his voice growling with the honesty of his wolf.

She willed her body to release its tension. Unbelievably, as she relaxed the burning pain between her legs began to subside.

True to his word, even though her body no longer fought his presence, Earc did not attempt to thrust deeper.

As her tension eased, the profound reality of having him inside her struck Verica. “You are a part of me,” she whispered.

“Yes.” His voice was harsh with his effort not to move.

“It is wonderful.”

“It hurts you.”

“It did, but it is still wonderful.”

“Did?”

She swallowed but nodded infinitesimally. “It is not so bad now.”

“Can I move?” His own voice was barely a whisper this time.

The burning had dulled so she could once again feel the pleasure. When he had promised her he would catch her when she jumped off that terrifying precipice of pleasure, he had done exactly that, holding her while she flew for the first time out of her raven form. She could trust him to turn this pain to renewed delight.

Besides, her wolf was so close to the surface, if they didn’t do something soon, she’d be howling. “Yes.”

He pulled out, just a little, and then pressed forward, his rigid length filling her so completely their connection was both fully physical and uncompromisingly spiritual as well. This was the true Chrechte mating and he had been right, not being in the sacred caves did not matter. She felt the presence of their Chrechte magic all around them.

This union was blessed.

She arched upward and gasped as pleasure sparked a fire of need inside her. It blazed out of control as they moved together, building the heat of their joining so even her raven and wolf felt singed.

And then that ultimate pinnacle came into view again, her body striving toward it with mindless need.

As they climaxed together, she saw his wolf and him both. She blinked, but the image did not shift. She had no choice but to simply accept as her body surpassed even the earlier moment of completion to the point she was barely lucid.

He curled her into his body as they slipped into sleep and she heard him whisper against her hair, “Tomorrow, you will show me your raven.”

 

 

S
abrine finished her search of Rowland’s room and his things. The
Clach Gealach Gra
was nowhere to be found. Though she had come across a disturbing collection of raven and eagle feathers, which she took to burn in the way of her people.

She did not know of a certainty that they came from Éan, but she could not help believing the feathers were a way of counting kills. She took them to the hall and built a fire from the banked embers in the fireplace. She lay each feather on the flames, whispering the words of departing for Chrechte warriors as each one caught and was consumed by the fire.

Her heart ached as she watched evidence of the Faol’s treachery against her people disappear in the flames. Éan disappeared, never to be heard from again. How many of those she had known could be accounted for in the collection of feathers she now burned with reverence and respect?

The sound of a wolf’s nails clicking across the floor brought her head up.

She had been so intent on performing the final rite of passage for her Chrechte brethren, she had not sensed her mate’s approach. The fact he did so as a wolf and she still had not known chilled her with a deep terror she could not shake.

The giant blond wolf came toward her, his eyes filled with intelligence,
with Barr
. But his form was that of his Chrechte nature. The Faol. A jaw that could tear a bird in half with one well-placed bite, claws that could cut through all-too-fragile skin and feathers with an ease that sent shards of atavistic fear through her.

Even knowing this wolf was in fact her newly discovered true mate, she could not hold back her flinch as revulsion washed over her.

A low whine sounded from his throat, but he did not drop his head or look away from her.

“Your former laird was a hunter of the Éan.”

B
arr shook his majestic head, a low growl sounding.

But she would not let him dismiss the situation so lightly. “He may not have been
your
laird, but he was pack alpha of the Faol in this clan. The clan you now lead.”

Barr moved closer, his regard intent, the scent of his wolf stronger than it had ever been around her.

One part of her, the woman who had been raised to protect her people from all potential threats, but particularly the wolves among the Chrechte, demanded she move away from the danger. Her raven insisted on moving nearer her mate; she needed the man who had taught her such pleasure to show himself, and her heart and mind felt torn in two.

“Shift.” She meant to demand it, but the word came out more a plea.

You fear my wolf?
he asked with their mental connection.

She shook her head, refusing to matespeak with a wolf. Didn’t he understand? In this form, he could not be her mate.

The air shimmered around them and then Barr was there in his human form. He straightened, towering over her, his expression grim. “You hate my wolf.”

She could not deny it. “The Faol has always been my enemy.”

“Not all wolves are murdering bastards like Rowland.”

She looked down at the last feather in her hand; it was from a raven. “He killed many in their bird form and more as humans. It is not something I can forget.” Not ever. He had not killed her parents, his scent had been wrong, but he had no doubt been cohort to the ones that had.

“He had nothing to do with me.”

“He was laird here before you. You shared your table with him for more than a month.”

Barr’s scowl darkened, but guilt shadowed his eyes. “I did not know he was a murderer.”

“You knew he was
wicked
.”

“There are wicked among all people, human and Chrechte alike.” He looked at her as if expecting agreement.

She was in no mood to be agreeable. “None so wicked as the Faol.”

An inexplicable sense of guilt pricked her as the words fell between them and his anger spiked along with unmistakable hurt.

“Your people are so peaceful that your women train as warriors.” This time his mocking tone dared her to disagree with him.

“I became a warrior after my parents were murdered by the wolves you would call friend.”

“I never called Rowland friend and well you know it. None that I call friend would hunt another Chrechte without cause.”

“They believe they have cause.”

“Why?”

“That is not my question to answer.”

“You know more than I do of this unacceptable feud. Tell me what you know.”

She found she could not deny him. “They despise the raven for being a carrion bird, or so I have heard. But they kill the eagle among us as well, so who is to say why they truly wish us gone?”

He thought for a moment, as if contemplating that very thing. As if he thought she truly wanted an answer.

When in fact the why had ceased to matter a long time ago.

He shrugged his magnificent shoulders, drawing attention to the naked body he found so comfortable. Despite their argument and the way her rejection of his wolf had hurt him, his member was thickened and almost erect.

She yanked her gaze from his manhood, but not before his quirked lips told her he had noticed her interest.

She frowned.

He winked and then sobered. “Mayhap they fear you.”

She remembered the look on Wirp’s face at the wedding when she gave him the image of her ancestor the dragon to gaze upon and thought perhaps Barr had the right of it, but then again, maybe not. “All Chrechte have more to fear from humans, who outnumber our kind so vastly we must hide among them.”

“Aye, but the special gifts the Éan have because of their Chrechte nature are a thing that might inspire envy and envy can move to hate with the blink of an eye.”

“So, you
understand
these murderers who would continue the decimation of my people until we are gone?”

Barr’s eyes darkened and he shifted closer until she could feel the heat of his body. “I dinna say that. I merely speculated the reason behind their hatred might well be envy and fear, no matter what they claim to the contrary.”

Despite herself, she nodded. She’d long suspected that to be the case, but the claims made by the Faol that the Éan were not
worthy
to be Chrechte had long plagued her people.

Barr’s hands settled on her shoulders. “You canna hate my wolf. He is a part of me.”

And the arrogant man was so sure she could not hate
him
. Of course, against all expectations in her own heart and from any who might know her, she didn’t hate the wolf laird. In point of fact, she was well on her way to being irrevocably in love with him.

An emotion that could only lead to more pain for her and yet one she had no hope of denying.

“A wolf and a raven can only mate in their human forms; I think that means something.”

His hands landed on her shoulders, the intent to hold her unmistakable. “It means we are magical beings with two forms and destined for a future together as life mates.”

“A wolf and a raven cannot mate for life; it never ends well.” He needed to understand. This connection between them could not last. It simply could not.

“Perhaps that is true of the past, but the Chrechte no longer dwell in caves and unreasonable hatreds have no place in our new life among the clans.”

“Tell that to this raven.” She tossed the final feather in the flames, speaking the death blessing.

Barr’s voice joined hers and Chrechte power sparked in the air around them. Wind that had no origin rushed through the room, taking the smoke up through the chimney in a whoosh.

Barr spoke a final blessing on the Chrechte that had gone before pricking his finger with his knife and sprinkling a drop of his own blood on the fire in an ancient offering most humans among them would not understand. “Rowland is gone along with those he sent to an early grave.”

“But his cronies still live among the Donegals.” She had to make him see how impossible any future together among this clan would be. Taking him to her people was equally impossible. Barr would never be accepted among them because of his wolf. “Shifters like Verica still hide their raven natures. Warriors like your Muin are still taught to kill ravens in the sky even though they do not know the Éan exist. You are a fool to believe so much has changed.”

Though she could wish it were not the case.

“I am no fool.”

She simply shook her head. She could not answer.

“You are my mate,” he growled as his head lowered.

“I am raven.”

“Mine.” His mouth slammed down on hers, the kiss filled with angry frustration as he repeated the word,
Mine,
over and over again in her head.

She replied with her own frustration at finding the perfect mate only to have him be wolf, her anger at the unfairness of life that made the Éan live as shades in the forest while their Chrechte brethren lived in their own hiding amongst the humans.

For one brief moment, she gave vent to her truest desires and the dark feelings that knowing they would never bear fruit caused in her heart.

They made love there, in front of the fire, her borrowed plaid their only cushion against the hard floor. And she did not care. The rest of the keep slept while she and Barr claimed each other in a ritual as old as time.

 

 

T
he next day, Sabrine began training the women to defend themselves. She took them to a clearing in the forest, far enough from the keep that the women did not need to worry about being watched by curious children and amused warriors. Looking like a woman quite pleased with her new mating, Verica joined them.

She brought along her grandmother’s weapons and offered them to Sabrine to use in her teaching.

Sabrine ran a loving hand along the blades but shook her head. “You must learn to defend yourselves without weapons other than the dirk most of you carry for eating and preparing food.”