Autumn Moon (16 page)

Elen heard the whimpers falling from her mouth and tried to bite them back but it was no use. She'd never been with a man of her kind, or one who possessed her heart as completely as he possessed her body. She was filled with him—and she had never felt so whole. Cormack rested his face in the crook of her neck. Not to kiss her, she knew, or to give her pleasure, but for succor when the edge of absolute surrender burned their blood and raged fire through their veins.

A deep rumble vibrated next to her ear, a continuous growl that didn't relent, dominant and yet needy; a wolf at his utmost vulnerable point who sang his most primal song.

An awakening occurred from that sound. Something hidden in the deepest recesses of her spirit swayed to the same melody; it had been dormant for all of her life; not even
torture had coaxed it to rise. If only the Guardians knew it was security, comfort and wholeness that roused its beastly head.

This joining of flesh promised a binding more powerful than her gift. She felt it, and yet she could not stop it—nor did she want to. Even if the castle walls tumbled around them, her will was not her own as the wildness unfurled and another half rose.

A darker half.

And it had nothing to do with elements or plants. No, this unfurling tasted of recklessness and domination. It was the creature that had been melded into the blood of her ancestors on a broken night by a desperate goddess. And while Elen might not be able to shift, and her wolf might forever remain dormant, she felt the instincts of her own beast in that moment as surely as Cormack felt his. And if she was willing to steal another's power as she did for him, she could shift. She realized that possibility now more than ever, but she would never take another's life for herself.
Never.

The selfishness of the act would only bring darkness and death to everything and everyone she loved.

“I can feel her.” Cormack's lips moved against her skin, stirred to speak. “I can feel your wolf.” Confusion muddled his voice, pleasure too, possession and elation; it was all there, rumbling up with the undercurrent of the creature that wanted to meet hers.

“As can I,” she gasped, throwing back her head as her pleasure mounted toward that shining peak, and she knew this fall would be the most fulfilling of her life. “I'm not stopping.” Desperate, so desperate now, she rode him hard.

Cormack bit her neck; and none too gently if she felt it through her furious haze.
“Elen . . . !”
He shouted her name.
And it resonated off the stone walls, loud enough that the whole castle must have heard. And then she knew why, glorified in its source. His shaft jerked, thickening even more within her, and then pulsated to expend his seed.

And she could do naught but follow. They fell together; two enchanted souls tumbled down that most ancient cliff as wave after wave racked her body around his. The convulsions kept coming, and she wasn't sure if she could withstand the onslaught, but her body thought she could and continued with more.

In the aftermath, when the pleasure eased to echoes of small twitches and raw nerves, she collapsed across his chest, utterly spent.

Cormack's hand brushed her hair back from her neck. He inhaled; his bite must have left a mark. He didn't apologize. Indeed not. There was an arrogant twist to his lips when he cupped her face between his palms and rested his forehead against hers. “I am yours and you are mine.”

“I am yours and you are mine,” she repeated back as their breaths mingled with their vows.

There would be no pretty ceremonies for them. Their wolves had already chosen this union. Like a Celtic braid, their souls were knotted and they loved too deeply for this to unravel with anything less than death. This was no fleeting encounter to be ended after one night, or ten, or even a thousand. Their kind were tied by the instinct of their beasts, and until one died, it would be a permanent joining.

Cormack was her mate—and she was his.

*   *   *

Luc had just been about to drift off to sleep when he heard Elen's name travel through the hidden passageways
that meandered behind the walls. He relaxed, knowing it came from Cormack, and then burrowed back under blankets next to the softness of his wife. There would be many in Avon seeking partners after that carnal wail.

“Well,” Rosa giggled, “that explains why Elen was in such a hurry to get to bed.”

Luc treasured the sound of her laughter—because her past had offered her so little joy. Moving his palm to cover the growing bulge of her stomach, he nuzzled the exposed skin at her neck. Five months along now and soon it would be impossible to hide. His heart beat against his chest as her hands covered his. He had known love once before and had found it again. He was blessed and his sister deserved no less. “It's been long in coming.”

“It sounds like it is.” She giggled again, and he realized his innuendo, marveled that she'd made the playful twist to tease. “I'm not sure if I've ever had one that long.”

A bark of laughter erupted from his throat. “Liar.” Flipping on his back, he rolled her until she rested on his chest. Rosa wiggled, finding purchase, and sucked in her breath when she realized his need had risen to her challenge alone. His amusement dissolved, replaced by his intent. “Should I remind you, Rosa?”

“Yes, I think you should.” A gleam entered her eye, but there was heaviness in her gaze as well. He knew her mind wandered to other worries. And when a woman worried, there would be no pleasures until the talking was done.

Brushing her hair over her shoulder, he asked, “What troubles you? Is it Mae?”

“No.” A gentle mirth returned to her voice, but it was fleeting. “Mae is doing just fine, thanks to Elen. Her life with the Guardians has been crueler than most, and it is a blessing to see those scars removed.”

“Then what is it?” He knew she fretted about the babe, and their Wulfling.

“Danger is close, Luc. I can feel it.” She paused. “Everyone in Castell Avon has been with me from the beginning. Everyone but—”

“The Walkers,” he finished for her. Their bodies may have been here, but their spirits had been in the Vale, a dreamlike world Ceridwen created to meet with her son.

“Ex-Walkers,” she amended. “Audrey doesn't count. She's ours.”

Yes, the little Wulfling was now theirs, and the only messenger Ceridwen now employed. Even Pendaran didn't know of her assignment; not yet at least. Luc did wonder why the Goddess would put such a responsibility on a child. Taliesin, no doubt, responded better to innocence, and the other four were anything but.

“I don't trust them,” Rosa said. “They once answered to the Council. As did I, I know,” she added in a defensive tone before he could correct her. “But they . . .” Her voice trailed off. “They were Guardians before they were chosen as messengers. I just don't know them enough to trust them. Their histories began long before my time, and you were never allowed in their guild. How do we know where their loyalties lie?”

“We don't.” But he believed they feared Ceridwen's displeasure more.

They had been in a coma-like state for almost three centuries, kept on this very island and released from their imprisonment because of a meeting Taliesin refused to speak of. Having nowhere else to go, the Walkers had stayed, because they clearly had little respect for the Council, and because they were unaccustomed to this century. He allowed them to for the same reasons.

But he'd also learned to heed his wife's intuition. “What would you have me do?”

“It's time for them to leave.” Her voice reflected the weight of her decision. “They have learned the ways of this time and have means to provide for themselves.” She had been their keeper, but now that they have returned to full form, they could also betray. “Soon. Before I can no longer hide that I'm with child.”

“It will be done.” Luc circled his thumb inside her thigh until her worries drifted away, waiting until her eyes grew heavy and her breaths increased. “Now, I do believe my skill has been challenged, and it would be wrong of me to let that rest uncorrected.”

“Ummm,” Rosa agreed. “You must thoroughly correct it.”

*   *   *

Black claws emerged as Pendaran gripped the edge of his desk. Elen's name, shouted from across an ocean, wove its lust across his skin. A binding had occurred. Even Pendaran's wolf rose to its cry.
Stupid Bleidd.
Names held power and should never be professed with such reverence. It turned whispers into matter that carried on the wind for those who knew how to listen.

Mated wolves were such a bloody nuisance. Merin was the perfect example, having carried her bond beyond death and willing to betray him for her broods. How many times had he heard Merin's excuses for letting her children live? What were her words? She'd said them often enough over the years. Ah, yes . . .
I have found their penchant for survival interesting enough to see where it might lead.

Admittedly, he could not fault her insight, considering what her daughter had brought to life in his woods. Because
of that alone, he
would
have Elen; or rather, he would have her gift under his command. She held no other allure for him, and she certainly wasn't worthy enough to carry his heir. He was intrigued by her—
not
tempted. His nostrils flared with the mere thought. Rosa, on the other hand, would have been fun; still might be, given time—but not Elen. She was too soft for his tastes, and too human. While offensive, her binding to a Bleidd did not change his goals, but it called for an alteration of his plan.

But what?

An idea formed. An attack not linked to him. He'd done it before and could do it again. It must be forged with her blood. She lived with wolves, after all, and they knew her scent. The cowardice of it was distasteful but the strategy sufficient enough that he did not care.

More important, Pendaran had not forgotten Taliesin's threat on Avon's bridge. Ceridwen's son must be pacified, and Taliesin had made it foolishly clear that he wanted Merin's children to live. Pendaran had no intentions of harming Elen, but her protectors mustn't know, Merin especially, at least until he had answers.

Weaving plans, Pendaran weighed his options against potential outcomes. Should he kill the former Bleidd? Cormack; was that not its name? More important, how would Taliesin react? The boy's penchant for noninterference was as predictable as his addiction. Unsure, he let out a long sigh. Taliesin's actions at Avon were disconcerting. Indeed, his volatile compunctions warranted caution.

Let them all wonder, he decided. Let them plot a course of revenge instead of a rescue; the former will add doubt and make them complacent with time. If they were stupid enough to have forgotten his dominion, then let them come. By then his power will have returned in full.
Not even Taliesin would fault him for defending his own territory.

As a Seer, the boy would know everything, of course. Perhaps he might even visit. Pendaran's lips twitched in a knowing smile. Yes, perhaps he might.

Relaxed now, his claws receded. He would convene a Council meeting soon, but not yet. Sitting down at his desk, he phoned the airport to prepare his private jet. He'd bring servants to carry Saran there and Elen upon their return, and perhaps two other Council members. He was not stupid enough to enter his enemy's woods to meet his favorite adversary without at least two more powerful wolves by his side. But who? His power had returned enough so that he no longer appeared ill, but they must be ones he could control in his current state.

William and Neira, perhaps? They had been to Avon when Math had reigned, several times, and knew the area. More important, they held no affection for Merin and would not spill his secrets for her. William's betrayal had been allowed but not yet forgiven. His harboring the Wulfling without reporting her was a disappointment. Unmated female shifters were too rare for such deceit. It was a conundrum, really. He admired the man's gumption.
Alas,
Pendaran thought on a sigh,
if I killed all my Council members for stupidity over seeking a mate, I'd have none left.

Was it a wonder he'd grown bored? The thought of listening to Neira's nefarious voice for six hours without relent held little appeal, but her weakness was one he could control, so he would resign himself to the trial ahead.

He removed a sheet of parchment from his drawer, dipped his quill and penned a letter to travel across an ocean. This one included a map. Little did the dissenters realize
that he owned land next to every one of their territories. The letter would arrive before him. He looked at the clock, calculating his time with theirs. Yes, it was enough to travel while they slept. What form should he give its delivery this time?
A black wolf,
he thought. That would remind the enchantress to behave.

If not, she knew the penalty for not heeding his demands.