Page 47 of A Wolf's Bargain
“I thought as much. I have an... opportunity for you, if you will. All I require is a moment of your time.”
The wolf’s expression was easily interpreted, even without words. Cora could almost hear her husband’s voice telling Edwin to shove his ‘opportunity’ up his arse.
The dagger at her throat twitched, and she couldn’t help flinching away. Cillian snarled, stepping closer.
“Ah-ah-ah, stay where you are. But I feel this conversation would be best had man to... well, as close to man as you can be, I suppose.”
Cora glanced toward Eoin’s body, trying to draw Cillian’s eyes to it. He followed her gaze but gave no sign that the sight of his former pack-mate’s body had any effect on him. She hoped he noticed the skin. Hoped he realized what it meant because she couldn’t tell him without risking her own life.
Cillian hesitated, his eyes still fixed on Edwin’s blade at her throat. Edwin pressed the dagger harder. Something warm and wet slipped down her neck—blood.
Cillian gave another bone-chilling growl and made the change from wolf to man. He kept the skin over his head, and highlighted by moonlight, he resembled one of the battle gods of old.
“Know this, English,” he growled, his voice low and deadly. “Any blood you draw from my mate, I’ll take from you a hundred times over.”
Despite the danger she was in, warmth spread through Cora’s chest. To think she’d ever been afraid of her wolf—her mate. She glanced around, looking for anything that might help. Cillian would protect her—or avenge her—but it was up to her to look for ways to help. The dagger still hung heavy in her pocket. If Edwin were focused on Cillian, he might not notice her reaching for it. She looked down, her eyes sliding along the length of Edwin’s arm. He’d wrapped one arm around her middle and the other around her neck, resting his dagger againstthe opposite side. An idea struck her as she stared at his arm. She’d have to time it just right, but it could work.
As Cora puzzled out her plan of attack, Edwin grimaced. “That is rather... undignified, isn’t it? Haven’t you a robe or something?”
Cillian smirked and cupped himself. “No surprise that a cockless coward who hides behind a woman would be frightened of mine.”
Edwin scoffed and said, “What you call hiding, I call insurance. Now, are you ready to hear my proposal? Or shall I add your lovely wife’s corpse to the pile in the courtyard?”
Cillian gave her a strange look, then crossed his arms. “I’m listening.”
Chapter 22
Cillian
Cillian faced the English king, not bothering to hide his nakedness. Sure, he could use his wolf’s skin as a sort of kilt, but he wouldn’t. He’d seen Eoin’s body to the side, along with his beheaded wolf’s skin. Somehow, this pale, dodgy bastard knew enough about the luchthonn to kill them. Cillian’s wolf’s skin wouldn’t go anywhere but on his head, and if those guards of his moved a toe out of line, he’d have his fangs in their throats before they could blink.
Besides, if he threw the king’s delicate sensibilities off by the sight of his balls, all the better. If he’d thought it’d do any good, he’d have danced a jig and bounced them about a bit—anything to keep the attention on him and off of that knife at his mate’s neck.
“Ah, see? I knew you could see reason. Some of my advisors warned me that the luchthonn were too feral to deal with, but I had a feeling about you. After all, a man doesn’t earn your reputation by accident.”
Cillian sneered. “Did you come all this way to whisper sweet nothings in my ear? Sorry to tell you, lad, but I’m already mated.”
“I suppose the vulgarity is to be expected from an animal like you. Very well, let’s waste no time. I’d like to propose an alliance between the luchthonn and the English crown.”
Of all the things he’d expected to come out of Edwin’s mouth, an offer of alliance was last on a very long list.
“Oh, have you now? And just why would I ally with the bastard cunt who attacks my home and threatens my mate?”
Edwin scoffed, “Please, let’s not exaggerate. The only reason you’re here is because of your marriage to Lady Kilkenny—excuse me, Lady Fane. You’ve no actual obligation to these lands. And as far as threatening your... mate, let’s assume that as long as everyone remains calm, she’s in no danger at all. I only needed to make sure I had your attention.”
Cillian scrutinized the English king. He’d always thought kings to be fat and stupid—too drunk on their own power to see past their powdered noses. They didn’t go into battle for fear of scuffing their fine slippers. Instead, they moved their pawns around their little maps as though men’s lives were worth less than the wooden figurines.
This one, though. Edwin had clearly planned this meeting carefully. He’d learned about them and found an ally in one of their own. Eoin’s bloody form and tattered wolf’s skin screamed of betrayal. To be cut off from one’s wolf was agony, and his death would have been torturous.
Good. Traitors deserved no less.
“Let’s say I agree with you. What exactly do you want from me in this...alliance, and what have you to offer in return?”
Edwin smiled, his eyes lighting at Cillian’s apparent interest. “Your part is simple. Your wolf-men are capable warriors. They’re twice the size of a soldier and three times as strong. Help me complete my conquest of Ireland, and I’ll give you all you sought from Kilkenny and more. You want land for your people? It’s yours. In fact, take Ossory and this castle for your own if you’d like.”
Cillian pretended to consider the offer, schooling his features into an expression of interest. “A castle, you say? And only slightly damaged from your attack? How kind of you to offer.”
“Consider it only the beginning of an investment. Once Ireland is mine, I’ll need someone to keep the local rabble in line. I would be inclined to reward such a man handsomely.”