The Becoming Trilogy Box Set (Books 1-3) (107 page)

‘You should have told me,’ he
said, ‘I’m her father.’ He still sounded angry, but Ash could see the
aggression deflating from Knutr’s body language.

‘You’re right. I should have
respected that, and I ... apologise.’ The King looked genuinely contrite, but
made no move to leave the room. Even when admitting he was in the wrong, he
carried himself with a natural dominance that couldn’t be denied.

Double damn.

‘Well, um, carry on then,’
Knutr mumbled, clearly ill at ease with the whole situation. Mac was still his
king, after all. There surely was no etiquette to cover this.

‘Will you still make the
ceremony?’ Ash asked, offering Mac a soft smile, hoping to diffuse some of the
tension.

The corners of his mouth
lifted in return. ‘A rabid flock of raveners couldn’t keep me away,’ he
frowned, looking down at his ravaged chest, ‘but I’ll have to find myself a new
shirt.’

‘Any excuse to get naked,’
she laughed.

He winked at her and, for the
first time since she’d known him, it was entirely without lust or longing. The
realisation lifted off her, like a weight she hadn’t known she was carrying.

‘I have gifts for you both,’
he said, not knowing he’d just given her the one gift she could never have
asked for, but would make her happiness truly complete.

Night fell and fires roared
to life in the gardens. Sam fussed with her hair and scolded her for messing it
up, but Ash really didn’t care. The wolves had done an amazing job, and she
couldn’t help but whip her head around to take it all in. It looked like the
past come to life in MacTire’s back yard, primal and beautiful. The great metal
fire baskets formed a glowing orange semi-circle of heat that curved around the
aisle and the seating-area assigned to the guests. Chairs weren’t a big part of
the wolves' household. Soft, man-eating sofas and cushions strewn across the
grass provided sprawling space, their tendency to pile together undiminished by
their reintroduction to society. They’d really gone all-out with the tradition.
Each and every Fomorian was dressed in raw-hide leather pants, brown and
polished. Their hair had been braided and bound. Their chests were bare, only
the crisscrossing leather straps of their blade sheaths and their branded
wolves breaking up the bare expanses of tawny flesh. Ash chuckled softly. They
really were one hell of a sight, and she could hear Carla muttering behind her
about wet dreams and eye orgasms before the soft strains of a flute drifted
amongst the gathering and Knutr took her elbow.

Ash’s heart pounded. She
didn’t recognise the song weaving through the air, but the highs made her
breath catch and her stomach flutter and she gripped onto Knutr's arm. He'd
keep her standing, no matter what.

She took a deep breath, and
found Connal at the end of the aisle. Her strength, her soul, her reason for
living. Her best friend and her mate. Standing on the bottom step of the folly
with Madden at his side, he was magnificent, waiting for her, chest naked and
branded, leather pants sculpted to his lower body like a second skin. His feet
were bare. His eyes twinkled the colour of moonlight.

The folly looked magical, its
dome and columns lit from below. The wolves had blasted the dark stone to
pristine and looped the pillars with vines, bright red with poppies. Connal's
eyes switched to match the colour as he raked her, head to toe, and she
resisted the urge to give him a twirl, offering a questioning smile instead. He
grinned and she could feel his appreciative growl from where she stood. It made
her steps quicken so much that the flute music changed to accommodate her new
pace and Knutr was laughingly holding her back.

'Slow, child. He's not going
anywhere.'

No, he wasn't, but that
didn't make her need to be with him any less pressing. She'd been unable to see
him, all day, and even without her wolf inside her, Ash had felt the distance.
This was just two poles of a magnet pulling back together.

She couldn't see the crowd
for him. They were there, she knew, the wolves and all the girls that had
stayed on. Liath sat to the side with Maura and Sadhbh, Carla taking a place
beside Mac.

Finally near Connal, Ash
couldn't find the space, in her jumble of happy emotions, to be embarrassed
that she was close to tears. Waiting for this moment had made her so jittery,
yet stepping up beside him, squeezing the life out of her poppy and
raven-feather bouquet, she relaxed for the first time since he'd left her bed.
Carla plucked the poor, rumpled bouquet from her fingers as Connal reached for
her hand and Rún stepped forward, ready to officiate. His blood-red hair was
braided away from the defined angles of his face and a brown fur waistcoat,
covering his upper torso, was all that set him apart from the others.

Ash watched Rún expectantly
as he raised his hands for quiet and a hush fell across the gardens. The music
softened and Ash stopped breathing.

‘Dearly beloved, we are
gathered here today … ’

A burst of laughter rippled
over the crowd and Rún grinned. It was a good look on him, made his features
less harsh.

‘Right, that’s not the way
this goes,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘With the moon and the Gods as our
witnesses, we ask that the infinite light of divinity shine upon this union. As
the wolf is stronger with its pack, may Ash and Connal find strength in each
other.’

Connal's fingers brushed
through the loose curls of her hair and Ash bit her lip, flashing him a shy
smile.

Don't cry. Don't cry.

‘Ashling, are you willing to
accept Connal Savage, both as man and beast, as your mate for eternity?’

What a silly question.
‘More than willing.’

Rún smiled. ‘Good. You
remember the vows, Ash? You’ll speak them first.’

Because she had no wolf to
offer him. That hurt.

She nodded and took a breath,
facing Connal and twining their fingers.

Ash trembled as Rún bound
their joined hands with a length of red silk, but her words carried strong.

‘You cannot possess me, for I
belong to myself, but while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to
give.' He couldn't possess her but she was his all the same. Every part of her
she'd surrendered long ago.

'I pledge to you that yours
will be the name I cry aloud in the night and the eyes into which I smile in
the morning.'

'I pledge to you the first
bite of my meat and the first drink from my cup.' She chuckled softly. Normally
he was the one feeding her. He never took food from her.

'I pledge to you my living
and my dying, each equally in your care. I shall be a shield for your back and
you for mine. This is my wedding vow to you.' And she meant every damn word.
They rang true in her soul, echoed in the beat of her heart. She'd kill and die
for him.

Her vow to herself to not cry
was tested when Connal repeated the words in a tone that rumbled through her
soul, his eyes a vivid, shining red, glowing with the inner force that was all
wolf.

'This is my wedding vow to
you.' Connal kissed her bare ring finger and Ash's lips split in a grin that
hurt her entire face. His mouth crashed down over hers and the roars from the
crowd drowned out the rapid drum of her heartbeat, pounding out of her chest.
Deliriously happy, Ash wasn't letting go of Connal for anyone. She shoved her
hands into his dark hair and ravaged his lips, sealing their communion in a
bruise of kisses.

'All right, you don't have to
eat his face. We're not quite done yet.' She broke away at Rún’s words,
blushing and breathless as Connal laughed and the crowd quieted again.

Rún beckoned over her
shoulder and Ash felt a surge of energy, a threefold power pushing on her skin
as Gov stepped up with Luc and Creed either side of him. The
Trí Dé Dána
came
bearing gifts: an exquisite pair of carved blades. The moons and symbols worked
into the metal caught the light from the fires and turned to ruby red etchings.
On the hilt of each blade rested a simple, knot-work ring. Hers was a smaller,
more delicate replica of Connal’s. Ash was vibrating with excited tension, gathering
her thoughts to try to remember the words as they exchanged the knives and
rings according to the traditions of their ancestors.

Connal guided her and they
were one voice as they accepted each other’s rings.

‘I take you, my heart, at the
rising of the moon and the setting of the stars.

To love and to honour through
all that may come.

Through all our lives
together, in all our lives, may we be reborn

That we may meet and know and
love again, and remember.’

The ring slid onto her finger
and Ash hiccupped a sob that Connal stole with a kiss, his thumb smoothing away
the wet track of a tear as he cradled her jaw in his hands. Ash had never
thought she’d do this, get married, never thought she wanted to, but in the
shadow of the house, surrounded by fire and wolves and buried in Connal’s
warmth, Ash had never felt happier. She felt in her heart that she had finally
come home.

Gov cleared his throat and
she lifted her lashes to glare at him, only it wasn’t him she saw. His brothers
were leading her frail wolf up the aisle towards her. A regal fur cloak had
been draped across its back, hiding the curves of its wings from human eyes.
Its tail swished, its head picked up at the sight of her and just as she’d
quickened to get to Connal, her wolf did the same.

Why is she here? She needs
to be resting, she’s …

‘No union is complete without
a sacrifice to the Great Mother Danu,’ she heard Rún declare.

What? No!
Ash was half a foot out of Connal’s embrace when his
arms tightened and bound her against his chest, trapping her panic in his heat.
They couldn’t sacrifice her, not after everything, not … not today. Not ever.

'Just wait, Ash.' Connal
rumbled into her hair, his hold unyielding.

'You can't let them do this.'
The tears she’d promised she wouldn’t shed glittered on her cheeks as she
looked up at him, searching his eyes for another explanation and praying there
was one.

'Please,’ he whispered, ‘have
faith.'

His lips turned up in a
gentle smile and she quieted, watching warily.

'Normally, blood is shed to
bless such a union, but I think we can all agree there's been too much of that
recently.’ A rumble of assent went through the crowd. ‘So instead, today, we
offer life to Danu, not death, that she may look upon this union with her most
divine favour.'

When it was clear the
offering was purely symbolic, and no harm would come to her wolf, Ash slowly
relaxed. The cheers of the wolves rose to celebratory howls. Toasts were made,
the music started up in lively ditties and bawdy songs that made her cheeks
heat as the night wore on. The wolves spitted a pig over a fire and produced
hunks of raw meat the size of her head to char over the flames. She danced until
her feet hurt and had to beg-off another whirl from her uncle, watching him
whisk Carla through the throng of gyrating wolves instead.

Connal was laughing by the
pig, with Mac, and they both looked content, unstrained, so she called her wolf
to heel and went to catch her breath. There were just too many people, and her
wolf was getting restless. They could both do with a walk to calm down.  

Ash padded through the tree
line and hadn’t gone far when she came upon a small clearing with a pool of
water. Funny, she hadn’t remembered seeing it the last time she’d wandered the
gardens. Then again, the grounds were extensive, and the man-made lake looked
pretty normal. Ash stood her ground, determined not to let past experience
dictate her fear, but then her wolf growled and Ash frowned.

A ripple spiralled out from
the centre of the water and her beast backed up. More ripples spread vibrations
across the surface, and a bluish, watery light sprang up from its depths. A
fountain, taller than Ash herself, spewed up from its centre and she stumbled
backwards, gripping onto the scruff of her wolf’s neck.