Page 18 of A Wolf's Bargain
Cora lifted her face toward her husband. He offered a small smile, and before she could wonder what it meant, he kissed her. His lips were warm and surprisingly soft, and the scratch of his beard wasn’t as uncomfortable as she’d expected. He cupped her cheek with his free hand and held her close. Warmth spread through her body and pooled pleasantly below her belly. She hadn’t expected to enjoy the kiss, but when her husband pulled away, she had the strange thought that she might like it if he did it again.
A cheer went up from Cillian’s men, hailing their leader and his new wife. The old man stepped forward and removed the cord. Cillian took it, stuffed it into a small pouch at his waist,and whistled sharply. One of his men approached with a saddled horse. Before Cora knew what was happening, he’d already lifted her onto the horse and swung himself up behind her. She found her father, pale and solemn, in the small crowd. While the men cheered and hollered, he said nothing. He stood among the other witnesses and glared at her husband. If Cillian noticed her father’s expression, he didn’t react. Instead, he wrapped an arm around her middle, took the horse’s reins in the other, and called out, “I’ll be back soon to discuss the details of our agreement, Lord Kilkenny.”
With that, he dug his heels into their horse and guided it toward the dark woods ahead. Cora looked behind them as best she could, silently bidding her home farewell as cold tears spilled down her cheeks. Not for the first time, she wondered if this had all been a mistake.
Chapter 9
Cillian
Cillian held his new bride in place as his stallion, Crow, carried them deeper into the woods. Crow needed little direction from him; the spoiled beast always knew the fastest way to get back to his food and bed. The full moon was barely visible through the trees, but that didn’t matter to Cillian. Even in the dark, a luchthonn could see the path ahead of him. As a wolf, he could see as well as he could in daylight, but his human vision was still better than what he’d been told was normal.
He tried to ignore the way the woman in his arms trembled. She’d put on a brave face for the ceremony, but he’d noticed how pale she was, and her expression had stayed so consistently placid that it had to be purposeful. She played the part of the quiet, submissive bride well.
He knew better. He’d seen the fire that burned below her skin when she’d marched into his tent, bold as brass, and demanded that he marry her and protect her people. His bride was no meek lamb, but she’d changed as soon as he’d shown her the wolf. It was to be expected, he knew. There was a reason that most luchthonn hid their wolf form except in battle. Most outside of their clans believed the luchthonn to be demons or the result of some witch’s spell. Those that knew the truth were usually too afraid or too desperate for their help to tell the secret. Oh, the rumors ran wild, of course. There was more than one reason he was known as the Wolf King in the surrounding counties, and everyone had their own beliefs about him and his men.
It shouldn’t have mattered that she was afraid. It was understandable. Smart, even. People often were afraid when forced to accept the existence of creatures like him. But still... perhaps it was foolishness on his part, but a man didn’t go into his own wedding night hoping for a frightened bride. If he’d done what was expected and married a woman from one of the other clans, he’d be hunting her tonight. There was no way to ask Lady Cora Kilkenny—Cora Fane, he reminded himself—to let him hunt her through the woods. She’d run off and never come back.
His wolf mourned the hunt. It had thrilled the beast to bond with the lovely female, but he didn’t understand why she feared them. In his mind, if she would allow them to hunt her, she would see how worthy they were as mates. He didn’t understand human fears and thoughts, and Cillian had no way to explain. They didn’t communicate in words so much as feelings and ideas, and Cillian tried to make the wolf understand why it wouldn’t be right to hunt his bride. A luchthonn bride reveled in the wedding hunt. She led her new mate on a grand chase. At the end, both bride and groom would fall into a happy heap somewhere in the woods and fuck till their eyes crossed.
The idea of laying out the woman in his arms in a bed of tall grass sent a hot bolt of desire through his body. The ride through the woods had already driven him half mad with the way her arse rocked back against his cock. It wasn’t her fault, and sure as hell, he didn’t think she did it on purpose. Somehow, that made it better... or perhaps worse. He couldn’t decide. All he knew was that the way her body moved against his was the sweetest sort of torture he’d ever endured.
Cillian wondered if she’d thought about their wedding night before offering herself so brazenly to him. He imagined not—she seemed the sheltered type. Most highborn women were, and he’d never had any interest in educating them. Cora Kilkennywasn’t the first woman to be offered to him in exchange for services—though she was the first to offer herself. He was approached by several lords who believed they could change his mind by offering their daughter or wife for a roll in the hay, but he always said no. Human women held little interest for him, and his wolf found them uninteresting at best and repulsive at worst.
Which made his reaction to his bride even more surprising. From the moment she’d marched into his tent, skirts swishing and a mouth sharper than his claws, both he and the wolf had taken an unusual interest in her. As soon as his surprise at her entrance had faded, he’d been struck with the image of bending her over his war table, maps and missives all sent flying to the floor. He’d imagined wrapping her thick, dark braid around his fist and guiding her smart mouth to his cock. It wouldn’t be easy to fuck the fire out of a woman like her, but he found himself eager to try.
He tried to imagine what she would be like. Would she be shy? Angry? Would she fight him? He hoped she wouldn’t cry. She’d fainted when she’d seen him change, and she’d been fairly subdued since then. Would she lie there like a dead fish, hoping that he’d finish faster? Cillian grit his teeth at the thought of blank stares and listless limbs.
No.
She might not be thrilled about their marriage—in fact, he was sure she wasn’t. Despite the moon priest’s enthusiasm, she’d faced her own wedding with all the excitement of a prisoner sent to an executioner’s block. And she likely had her own ideas of how the night would go, but he’d be damned if his first taste of her would be marred by some misplaced sense of martyrdom.
Light flickered in the distance, and Crow picked up his pace. Cillian tightened his grip on his bride—on Cora—and pulled her back against his chest. Cora no longer trembled in his arms, buthe didn’t miss the way her heart pounded like a drum, the beats so strong that he could almost feel them spread through his body like ripples in a pond.
They’d ridden in silence the whole way, but when they passed the two night guards at the makeshift gate, Cillian couldn’t resist the urge to lean in and murmur, “Welcome home, Madame Fane,” into Cora’s ear.
She didn’t reply, only glanced up at him with wide eyes. Several of his men waved and called out greetings and congratulations, and several threw their heads back in a howl. Cillian chuckled and shook his head at their enthusiasm. Even by his people’s standards, he’d waited a long time to take a wife. As strange or unorthodox as they might find the match, his men seemed happy that he’d bonded. Even those who were not luchthonn understood enough about them to know that a wolf would always be better with a pack—with a mate.
Cillian led Crow to his tent and dismounted easily once they arrived. He reached up to help Cora, but she favored him with a baleful stare before sliding down, landing on the ground with a soft thud. Cillian shook his head at her willfulness and wondered what she’d do if he growled at her as he would have any of his men who’d dared to be so needlessly defiant. He hoped she wouldn’t faint again.
One of their young men, a sturdy lad by the name of Corcc, ambled up and bent his head in respect. He offered to take Crow to the stables, and after a moment’s consideration, Cillian agreed. Usually, he’d tend his own horse, but tonight there were more important things than Crow’s never-ending appetite.
Cora stiffened when he nudged her toward the tent, but he didn’t remove his hand. If he had his way, he’d be touching her far more intimately soon. The faster she became used to his hands on her body, the better.
Cora eyed his bed roll as though it might attack her. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at him warily. “Where am I meant to sleep?”
He wondered if she thought there was another option. “In my bed,” he replied, nodding toward the pile of furs and blankets.
“Oh.”
Her cheeks darkened, and a desire to lick her struck him hard. He wondered if she was as warm and soft as she appeared. The wolf agreed, insisting that the faster they had their mate underneath them, the happier she—and they—would be. Wolves were stubborn when they’d set their minds on their prey, and this woman had caught the wolf’s interest like no one else ever had. Given the chance, the beast would have him lick her from head to toe to catalog every sweet inch of her skin.
Cillian ran his tongue over his teeth and shook the urge away. Cora looked ready to bolt as it was. It wasn’t likely that she’d look at him dragging his tongue across her cheek with favor.
She looked around the tent, her emotions shifting on her face. Hesitation, a bit of fear, and then resolve. Just as she had at their wedding, Cora pulled her shoulders back and faced him as though he were the devil himself. She settled her back against the large table he’d dubbed his ‘war table,’ as though its sturdy legs would hold her up.
Her attitude bothered him more than he wanted. It wasn’t as though they were a love match—hell, the last woman he’d claimed any sort of loving feelings toward had been his mam. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted his bride to fear him on their wedding night.
He wanted to make her burn, to show her he could be more than the beast she expected. To show himself that she was just a woman—that fucking her wouldn’t be the life-changing experience he feared it might be.