The Longing of Lone Wolves

by Lana Pecherczyk

  “What happened?”

  “Thaddeus overheard us talking. He called the Royal Guard. The Guardian I was with refused to get involved. The breeding law is something the Courts enforce. It has nothing to do with magic, and so nothing to do with the Order. When Thaddeus called for my head, the Prime had found out, and convinced them that death would be too kind.” He pushed back the sleeves of his sweater. Blue lights flashed and glittered in his living tattoo. “She stepped in at the end. Just not the way I wanted.”

  “But you didn’t know about the pregnancy!”

  “It didn’t matter. I clearly wasn’t careful enough to avoid it. Véda had told the entire village for months that she was forced. They all believed it to be true. According to them, because I couldn’t keep control of my desire, a woman would lose her life and a child would be born parentless.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Tears stung Clarke’s eyes, and she reached out to him, but he tensed. Her hand fisted in the air and came back to her side.

  “She gave birth right there outside the gate. Her arms were bound to a pole the entire time.” His jaw clenched. He shook his head. “They refused to let me hold the newborn before they took him away. And then the Royal Guard slaughtered her before my eyes. Thaddeus laughed as they took me away. The bastard laughed. I should have ripped his throat out then.”

  The arms on the chair creaked from the force of his grip and suddenly it all became clear.

  “You want to speak with your son,” she whispered. “He’s at the Order, isn’t he?”

  He gave a curt nod. “I have no excuses. I just want to speak to him. I don’t even know what I would say.”

  He poured himself another big drink, and chugged it before sitting back down.

  “Hey, Thorne,” he said to the fire. “It’s your dad. Sorry about your mother. But hey… couldn’t keep it in my pants. Sorry I wasn’t there to stop them from making you the tribute for the Well, but remember about those random acolytes who suddenly fell in the water at your initiation? Yeah that was me poking them with my useless sword.”

  “You’re being too harsh on yourself.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  For a long while, they both stared into the fire listening to the crackle made by tiny flames. Clarke didn’t know what to say. He’d been given a raw deal. But could she forgive him for…

  “Tell me about the mating and the marking,” she urged.

  He sighed. “It was the only way to keep you safe.”

  “I understand this. And I also understand that I’m very unprepared to live in a world like this. Not yet, anyway. But why did the mating make you behave the way you did? Why did you get so… aggressive and… it was almost like you were lost in a dream.”

  His fiery gaze snapped to hers. “Because you are a dream, Clarke. Never in my wildest imagination did I imagine a female like you coming into my life. Before you came, I’d given up. Even when you saw me at my vilest, you didn’t leave. I have been cruel to you, and for that I will never be sorry enough. But you came back.” His gaze softened. “The wolf inside me recognized that loyalty before me. You haven’t met him, but he knows you. When I marked you as mine, it was all the permission my wolf needed. Nature can make me do things I wouldn’t normally do. Sometimes the wolf is closer to the surface than I like to admit.”

  “Is it going to bite me as well?”

  He laughed softly and shook his head. “I forget how human you are sometimes. No. It just wants to know you.”

  She rubbed between her breasts, hoping to ease the ache, but her fist hit something hard. The two vials Anise had given her were still there. It seemed so long ago now.

  “You still haven’t answered my question,” she continued. “Not fully. I don’t understand what mating means?”

  “It’s the fae version of marriage.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “We’re married.”

  He had the decency to look repentant. “It’s a little more than that.”

  “What can be more than marriage?”

  “When we mate, it’s a bond that goes beyond the natural order. My scent on you will make us hard to be around if any other males are interested in you.” He scrunched his nose. “A Well-blessed mating lets us sense each other’s emotions. For a union like that, a sacred blue light springs from the land to envelope the couple and leaves a visible marking. Then the couple share not only their thoughts and hearts, but their mana. I could borrow from you, and you could borrow from me. Our hearts would be open to each other. If we were blessed. Which we are not.”

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “A Well-blessed mating would break my curse.”

  “Oh.” She bit her lip, surprised at the disappointment rising in her chest. “Then if I can’t break it, we will make the Order remove the curse,” she decreed.

  “It’s impossible.”

  “We have to try. It wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t be in this situation. It’s wrong. I know bad people, and you’re not one of them.”

  Slowly, he lifted his gaze to hers. He stood, shifted his hand to his rear and pulled a small package from his pocket. He held it in his hands and turned the item over, unwrapping the teal patterned cloth to reveal something made from wood. Upon seeing it, Clarke shot to her feet and the two of them met before the fire. She held her breath as she looked down.

  “You keep saying you wish you knew the time. So I made you this.”

  It was a carved sundial.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Clarke hadn’t received a gift like the one in Rush’s hands for… she blinked, trying to remember. It hadn’t been since her father had given her the charm bracelet and the watch.

  He’d carved it himself.

  “When did you have time to do this?” she asked.

  “To be honest”—he scratched his head—“I started when we were walking here. I just didn’t know what it was until earlier tonight.”

  Her finger traced over the intricate pattern around the dial. Roses and willow branches. “You’re very talented.”

  He touched his fingers to his lips and hand-signed his thanks.

  She shifted toward the fire to see the palm sized sundial better, trying hard to hold in her emotion, but her brows knitted together with the effort.

  “You don’t like it?”

  She turned, eyes watering. “I love it. I… I’m speechless. Why?”

  A pink tinge stained his cheeks and he dipped his gaze. “I don’t know. I think... I think I just wanted to give you something you needed. Something that could help you, even after I’m gone.”

  His words hit the deepest part of her soul. Never before had anyone thought about her needs before his. Twice now. He’d saved her life at the bog. And now this? Suddenly, she no longer felt like a foreigner in a strange land. She felt like her old life was a dream, and this was her new reality. She crossed the floor, intending to thank him, but he stepped back and lifted his palms out.

  “I don’t want you to think I did this to manipulate you, or...”

  To force her, he meant. The alarm in his eyes hurt to see. It shot straight to her heart and stabbed deep.

  “Rush.” She swallowed. “But I do like you. You haven’t forced me. You’ve done quite the opposite. You made every attempt to make me hate you, yet… here I am. Wanting you.”

  His lips parted, eyes wide. He didn’t believe her.

  She flattened her lips and pulled the vials from beneath her shirt. “Look.” She handed them to him, speaking fast and bumbling. “I intended to use these on you, or with you, or whatever. Anise sold them to me. She’s the barmaid downstairs. Apparently elves love their elixirs. Do you know what they are?”

  His gaze narrowed on the pink and blue vial and then sharpened with recognition. He growled and threw the blue into the fire. Flames burst as though gasoline had been thrown. Still agitated, he braced his hands on the mantle, head bowed. Every muscle in his back rippled with restraint as he took a moment to calm himself.r />
  “Jeeze,” she blurted. “You fae are sensitive with your masculinity.”

  He whipped around, eyes blazing. “I don’t need any help being aroused for my mate.”

  Clarkes eyes dipped to below his belt and saw the evidence tenting there. She had to bite her cheek to hold back a smile. “Nope. No you don’t.”

  Anguish stifled his expression. He turned back to the fire. “You think this is funny?”

  He wanted her. Now he knew she wanted him. So why was he avoiding her? Had she not been clear enough? She wasn’t ready before. But now she was. Knowledge had been exchanged and the power balance had shifted. She was more than willing. Her gaze ran down his body. God, he was hot. Sexy. Broad shoulders tapered to a small waist, an ass made by the gods, and thick, muscled thighs possibly double the width of hers. She imagined running her hands over his naked skin. The heat. The soft unyielding strength.

  Heat speared between her legs. She bit back a groan.

  Something was holding him back. Clarke’s mind shifted back to his earlier confession and she stepped forward. Maybe this reluctance was more than his curse. Maybe he’d been cut deeper than he admitted. His sexual gratification had ruined lives.

  “Rush.” She dropped her palm onto his back. He shuddered beneath her touch. “You’re not a bad person for wanting this, you know. You shouldn’t feel guilty about your desire.”

  He tensed as if he wished her away, as if he wished his feelings away.

  There was only one way to make her position clear. She stepped back until her thighs hit the edge of the bed and then unlaced her belt. Straightening her spine, she rolled up the belt length and threw it at the wall above his head. It bounced and landed on his shoulders.

  He turned, confused eyes colliding with hers. But then his attention dipped and studied her from top to toe. With every inch he covered, heat smoldered in his eyes until his gaze snagged upon the motion of her fingers on the top pearl button of her blouse. She fingered it open, daring him with her eyes.

  “I want this,” she said, voice thick. “You’re not forcing me. I’ve already had a drop of the pink elixir. I’m prepared.” It was true. She’d taken some the moment she left the tavern. “No lives will be ruined if you let yourself go tonight.”

  Her finger plucked the button. He growled in warning.

  “It’s not bad to want a little comfort in each other’s arms.” She popped another button. “You chase my nightmares away, Rush.”

  “Stop.”

  “I want to feel your body against mine.”

  “I said, stop.”

  She paused. “Why?”

  He licked his lips, eyes still caught on her fingers, and then a yearning so deep and open flashed across his face. His voice dropped low. “Because I want to do it.”

  Clarke’s heart almost soared out of her chest. Slowly, her hands drifted to her side. She lifted her chin, a dare in her eyes. Come and get me.

  He pushed off the mantle and stalked forward, golden eyes never leaving her face. His arousal pushed against his breeches, giving her a dark outline of his shape. Seeing it only made her pulse thud faster with anticipation. His intensity, his predatory focus, gave her insight to his animal side and she knew that when he finally graced her with his shift, she’d be in awe. His wolf would be majestic.

  The toe of his boot hit hers and he stopped, all brooding energy and thunderous scrutiny. Inches away, his eyes were wild, proud, and lit with some savage desire. First, his gaze landed on her breasts, to where her nipples strained against the fabric of her blouse. Then his hand went there, capturing the weight. Her lips parted. The touch rasped against the fabric and sent tingles zipping through her body. He squeezed and kneaded, taking his time in learning her shape, never removing his intense stare from her face as though he cataloged every reaction she gave him.

  She closed her eyes, enjoying his simple yet consuming caress melt her from the inside. Two hands now, both toying and rolling each breast with skill and reverence.

  “Playing with your food, wolf?” she teased.

  He gave a guttural grunt, and then the weight at her front was gone. Her eyes snapped open to find him lifting trembling hands to cup her face. The rough pad of each thumb stroked along her cheeks. Golden eyes heated with a mix of wonder and adoration. It was so open, so raw, that she felt the tug down to her core. She pushed into his touch and smiled. This felt right. This is what her instinct had been trying to tell her. This was where it all pointed. To be in his arms. They were stronger together.

  “Clarke…”

  “Shut up and kiss me.”

  His eyes widened, and then he took her mouth in a consuming kiss. No more reservations. Nothing between them. Clarke sank into his heat, into the soft lips and bristle of beard, into the hardness of his chest. His tongue tangled with hers. It was a hot, heady kiss that wrenched a moan from deep in her lungs. She felt wanted. Needed. She couldn’t get enough.

  “I’m going to put my mouth here next,” he murmured and touched her breast again.

  “Oh God, yes.”

  “And then I will show you how I play.”

  He traced his lips on her jaw, nipped and nibbled and licked his way down her neck, leaving a trail of fire everywhere he touched. One powerful hand splayed on the small of her back, holding her up, the other worked at the buttons on her blouse until she was laid bare to him. Air hit her skin, sending goosebumps pebbling all over. He stepped back, eyes hooded, and then said, “I change my mind. I want you to take the rest off while I watch.”

  Clarke lifted her brow. “And what about you?”

  Something like amusement mixed with curiosity flashed over his features, and then his expression hardened with intent. He gripped the back of his sweater and dragged it over his head. His hair became disheveled in an altogether come-hither way that almost unraveled her.

  “You’re taking too long.” He gave a pointed look at her pants.

  But she didn’t care about herself. He’d already unbuttoned his breeches, giving her a taste of the wicked delights beneath. Flexing abdominals, dark gray fuzz dusted with silver, the top of that hard length... and his thumbs were hooked on the waistband, ready to pull down. The blue glyphs covering his body only increased his preternatural physique. She wanted to trace her tongue around every blue line.

  Clarke barely registered that she’d sat on the edge of the bed. Maybe she got one or two buttons on her pants open, but then she’d stopped, eyes glued to his undress. He slid those pants over his hips and ass, the arch of his thick thighs, and then completely down. Enraptured, her mouth dried.

  Naked, the fae was a study in male beauty. Every minute move he made flexed muscles and tendons she never knew existed. The only time she saw a body like this in her time, was on the cover of a sports magazine. Or one of those calendars you bought to raise money for charity. But in this time, the people had to work to survive. The fact his shape was carved out of necessity made it even more desirable.

  He was strong. A protector. A provider.

  Her eyes dropped to below his waistline, to his desire jutting eagerly between his legs. An impatient snarl of need burst from her throat. She didn’t care if she sounded like an animal. She suddenly knew how he’d felt out there in the alley. She had to have him. Now.

  “When you look at me like that...” he murmured.

  “Come here.”

  He wrapped his fingers around his arousal and stepped closer until the tip came before her face. She licked her lips and looked up to find raw anguish in his expression. Holding his gaze, she unwrapped his fingers and replaced them with her own. From his reluctance, he wasn’t used to conceding, and even less used to being touched. But she got what she wanted. With long, smooth strokes, she let him see what she could do for him. The immediate defocus of his eyes made every feminine intuition scream with triumph. Locking eyes, she lowered her lips to his blunt tip and teased the sensitive ending with her breath. She intended to hold his gaze, but the moment her tongue
darted out and tasted, her eyes fluttered closed on a groan. She took him inside and swirled and flicked with her tongue.

  A shaky breath escaped him—a muttered curse as he threaded trembling fingers into her hair and let her take control, never once demanding something she wasn’t ready to give. She licked and sucked and loved. She took pleasure with his body until she could feel him going taut, until the veins bulged at his abdomen, until his breath quickened and he twitched, fingers spasming in her hair.

  He pulled out suddenly. He gripped her chin and angled it so she stared into his eyes, open with need. She felt like she was falling. Every line on his face was taut with need and the very sight sent hot tingles rippling through her body. No words came out to explain his thoughts, just a dark look of passion that twisted his features into something so breathtaking nothing else existed.

  Rush crouched, tugged her pants off, and then his hard body was atop her. Lips landed on her skin and tasted every inch as though a starved man. He kissed and laved the marking on her neck with reverence. He grazed teeth along tendons and caressed with his fingers. It all heated her eagerly, sending her soaring after her fall. Up, up, up. While his mouth was busy, his fingers explored. Over breasts, nipples, stomach... lower… and then he found her wet.

  A snarl tore out of him. He used his knee to pry her legs apart and he plunged a finger into the heat of her core. She arched into him greedily, holding his gaze, but he retreated down her body. He widened her thighs for a better view and traced fingers through her center. Then lifted them to his mouth and licked with a throaty growl of satisfaction.

  “This is playing with my food, princess.”

  “You’re cruel.” She arched into him, begging for more, but he held her down.

  She threw her head back onto the pillow with frustration.

  “Tell me how you like it,” he demanded.

  “Whatever you want is how I like it.”

  The tickle of his beard on her thighs was the only warning before a long, torturous lick straight down her center sent her back bowing, and her hips driving into him. She pulled a pillow over her mouth and let loose a long strangled and drawn out moan.