by Selena Kitt
That made her laugh through her tears, but it didn’t erase the reality of what was.
The fact remained, Kirstin couldn’t be this man’s wife, no matter how much they both might want it. And she was sure that Lady Cecilia Witcombe was a beautiful woman who would make Donal the perfect wife. And most importantly, she wouldn’t turn into a beast once a month on a whim. But if the woman had been in front of her, Kirstin would have torn her throat out without a second thought.
That made her an animal.
In fact, she was an animal.
And that was the problem.
“Nuh!” Kirstin choked, voice muffled against his chest, but she hardly had any breath left, and there were no more words, no more arguments to be made. She felt it happening, her strength leaving her limbs.
“Aye, lass,” Donal insisted, his mouth finding hers, sparking a fire in her that was undeniable and unquenchable. They went to the floor, slowly sinking together, and Kirstin knew there was no stopping it. Donal would see for himself, and it would be soon. Far too soon.
“Open up!” Gregor pounded on the door from the outside.
Kirstin barely heard him. Donal’s mouth crushed hers and she welcomed the weight of him as they tore at each other’s clothes. He was shirtless, and then so was she, her plaid slipping easily off her body, leaving her naked beneath him, more than ready.
The pounding came again.
“G’way, boy!” Donal growled, nuzzling the soft hollow of Kirstin’s throat before moving down to her breasts, making her moan when he grabbed handfuls of her hair, pulling her head back so he could get better access.
She wanted him, but she couldn’t have him.
Her body burned for him, but it was impossible.
She longed to speak his name, but all that would come out of her throat was a plaintive, keening wail.
“Kirstin, m’love,” Donal whispered, and she felt him, eager to enter her, almost as hungry as she was.
She howled when he slid inside her, nails digging into his back as he rutted deep and hard, speaking words into her ear that turned her blood to fire. He pounded into her with such force she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. There were no bodily functions more important than this one in the moment, nothing more compelling than the ache between her thighs.
“Och, Kirstin, yer mine,” he said throatily, slamming into her again and again. She whimpered her agreement as he grabbed her leg, flipping it over in front of him, twisting her hips to the side, her torso still facing front. She gasped at the new position, how big he felt inside her like this.
“Ahhhh yer cunny is so tight!” he grunted, pumping faster, hips moving at lightning speed. Kirstin felt it happening. Her climax was rising as fast as the moon. Through the window, she saw the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the pale face of the moon was coming up in the sky.
She met his eyes in the dimness, the light from the window fading, no lamp lit. She wondered what he could see, but she didn’t have to ask. She saw it in his eyes, the dawning realization, the slow shift from desire to horror. She was changing. There was nothing she could do to stop it.
Kirstin tried to run, but Donal held her fast in his hands, grabbing her hips as she rolled to her belly. He was on top of her, so close, rutting from behind, unwilling to stop. And so was she. Her body shuddered with both pleasure and her change as her sex spasmed around his length. Donal gave a low roar of surprise as her muscles milked his seed, drawing it up from his sack in thick, pulsing waves.
She trembled and howled, the sound filling the room, so loud it felt as if it could shake the whole castle. The steady pounding on the door outside went on and on. It sounded as if they were taking a battering ram to the door out there.
Donal collapsed on her, hand moving in her hair, and then, in fur. Her ears pricked, her hearing keener now, her vision, too. She saw everything her human eyes could not, the shadows fading, the edges of things growing sharp. She heard the sound of Gregor panting outside the door as they struggled to ram it open. She felt the heat of Donal’s breath on her fur, the weight of the man who had previously been crushing her, now like nothing.
The pounding had stopped but now the whole castle seemed to shake with the blows as Gregor applied something to the door again and again.
“Kirstin,” Donal whispered, his hands cupping her face, finding fur and jowls and soft, twitching ears.
She whined, rolling to her side, their eyes locked. Donal pet her gently, stroking her muzzle, her neck, his expression pained. She’d tried to tell him, but he hadn’t believed her, not really. Who would believe it, unless they’d seen it with their very own eyes? He’d seen her as a wolf only once before—and never like this. He’d never actually watched her change.
Kirstin put a dark, grey paw up on the man’s chest, seeing her own limbs gone, replaced with that of a wolf. No more hands to grasp with. It was as it ever was, as it had always been. There was nothing she could do to stop or change it, and she knew he would finally understand this now. He would turn away from her in horror and disgust, and she wouldn’t blame him.
She braced herself for it. Her emotions were even more powerful now, as a wolf. Everything intensified. Even her love for him. Her desire, too. It broke her and she howled again, a sound full of pain and longing. The pounding against the door stopped for a moment. So did everything else. Donal stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.
“Shhh,” he urged, his fingers lost in her fur, trailing over her ribs. “Yer safe wit’ me.”
Safe? Kirstin showed him a canine version of a smile, dark lips drawn back from her teeth. He seemed to understand, a smile reaching both his lips and his eyes as he bent his dark head to touch hers.
“Och, yer so beautiful,” he whispered. “Yer t’most beautiful creature I’ve e’er seen.”
A great cracking sound shattered the moment, and Gregor spilled into the room, dragging a set of chains behind him.
“He’s wit’ t’wolf!” Gregor called over his shoulder.
“Do’na touch ’er!” Donal roared, protecting Kirstin’s body with his own as Gregor grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck.
The man’s hand sank into her flesh and Kirstin howled and snapped at him.
“Let ’er go!” Gregor insisted, pulling the chains behind him.
Kirstin heard the sound of them and winced. She couldn’t bear it. Even the thought of being locked up now made her growl and buck. When she was human, she would have gone docilely, but now that she was wolf, there would be none of that. Her freedom was paramount.
“Kirstin, listen t’me,” Donal insisted, trying to control her scrambling limbs and snapping jaws. “We’ll nuh hurt ye!”
But she knew better. Every fiber in her being knew she had to escape the man with the chains and the locks, even if another part of her understood Donal’s pleas. Donal loved her—she felt it emanating from him in waves. There was no escaping the feeling, no misinterpreting it. That was the one thing about turning wolf—there was no more room for error when it came to things like that. The world became far more black and white, easy to negotiate.
For weeks, Kirstin had waffled, torn, not knowing what to do. For weeks, she had cursed herself for loving this man, wishing things could be different. Now, as she looked into his beautiful blue-grey eyes, things became suddenly, incredibly clear.
“Hold ’er so I can get this collar on!” Gregor insisted, dragging the chains close. “We’ve gotta cage t’bitch!”
Donal hit the man. It happened fast. One moment, Donal’s arms were around her, his hands in her fur, and the next, he’d stood and brought his fist hard across the man’s face. Gregor howled and fought back, and the men tussled, wrestling each other to the floor.
It was the only opening Kirstin needed and she took it.
There were more men in the hallway, but she was faster than they were, by far. One of them nearly clipped her tail with his sword, but she sidestepped, escaping through the breezew
ay. She used the bench in the garden to launch herself over the wall. It was an eight foot drop and she took that too, whimpering as she landed, feeling the whistle of an arrow beside her ear as she ran for the forest.
It was full dark now but she saw everything. The world was hers at night, full of scent and possibility. She stopped at the edge of the woods, seeing the castle being lit up, room by room. The alarm had been sounded. They would be looking for her.
Donal would be looking for her.
Kirstin threw her head back and howled, hoping he could hear her, hoping some small part of him understood if he did. She couldn’t tell him, not like this. It was all she could do.
She turned and ran through the forest, heading toward home. Toward hope.
Her heart pounded, and she howled again, thinking only of Donal. There was no way to convey her message except through the plaintive, keening wail of a wolf.
A wolf, she prayed, she would no longer be, when she returned to him.
If only he would wait for her.
Chapter Eight
“Bloody wulvers,” Lord Eldred swore. “This she-wolf is the most evasive one I’ve ever run across.”
Kirstin took some pride in his words as she padded silently behind the trees. She could see the light of their fire from this distance and smell the roasting rabbit. They’d burnt it, which wasn’t too pleasant. Her ears picked up their words floating downwind to her.
“How’re we supposed to know if it’s a wulver or a wolf again?” One of Lord Eldred’s captains asked. It was the one called William, she remembered. She’d met him that first day. The day she’d met Donal. Thinking of Donal made her ache and she tried to shake it away, venturing closer to them, careful to avoid making any sudden movements or noise.
“All wulvers have blue eyes,” Lord Eldred replied. “Real wolves are born with blue eyes, but adult wolves don’t ever have blue eyes.”
“How do you know so much about them?” the other captain asked, gnawing on a burnt bit of rabbit. Kirstin’s stomach growled but she ignored it. That one was named Geoffrey, she remembered. Seeing them all together made her remember that first day, when she’d been trapped up in the tree and Donal had come to her rescue. It hurt to think of Donal, all the way to her bones. She was still in heat, and her whole body felt swollen, aching for him.
“I’ve been hunting wulvers since before you were born,” Lord Eldred snorted, poking the fire with a long stick. Sparks flew up into the night.
“There are wulvers in England?” Geoffrey asked, chewing thoughtfully. “I’ve never seen one.”
“To my knowledge, this is the last pack of wulvers in existence,” Lord Eldred told him.
“So this female we’re looking for—she can’t turn into one of those half-wolf things?” William mused, stretching his boots toward the fire.
“No, females cannot turn into halflings.” Lord Eldred sighed. “Have you not paid attention to anything I’ve said? You two are woefully unprepared to hunt these animals. You could learn a thing or two from Salt and Sedgewick.”
Kirstin wondered about the two Lord Eldred spoke of, the men with the funny, unlikely names. Were these two also wulver hunters?
“So what do we do with her when we find her?” Goeffrey threw a bone into the fire, picking up another piece of meat to gnaw on.
“Sometimes I could swear you’re deaf, young captain.” Lord Eldred sighed, running a hand through his salt and pepper hair. “I already told you. After she leads us to the wolf den, we kill her. Then we send word to King Henry to call up his waiting army from the borderlands so we can kill them all.”
Kirstin froze, staring at the man poking a stick at the fire, her hackles up out of her control. She felt a growl rising in her throat and swallowed it down. The urge to attack—to protect her pack—was overwhelming. She sat back on her haunches, teeth bared, but no sound come out of her. She made sure of that. She wouldn’t dare let them find her, not now.
She’d always had a bad feeling about Lord Eldred Lothienne, and now, she finally knew why.
“What about the wolf pact? The MacFalon thinks it’s still in effect.” Geoffrey spit a piece of gristle into the fire. “If he hears we’ve killed a wulver...”
“Especially his she-wulver...” William’s face clouded at the thought.
“Who’s going to tell him?” Lord Eldred sneered, looking between the two young captains. “You?”
“No, m’lord...” William held up his hands in a warding off gesture, looking genuinely scared and Geoffrey affirmed his sentiments, assuring his Lord that he wouldn’t tell anyone either.
“Besides, even if word did get back to him,” Lord Eldred said with a shrug. “By the time he found us, it would be too late. The wulvers would be dead.”
Kirstin’s body went cold. Her paws felt numb. She could barely feel the forest floor. King Henry planned to kill the wulvers? She had to warn her pack. She had to tell Donal that he’d been deceived.
“So this she-wolf, she’ll turn back into a woman?” Geoffrey mused. “A real woman? With woman parts?”
“Once her estrus has ended.” Lord Eldred glanced up at the sky, cloudless, the moon high above. “Another day perhaps. You’ve seen her for yourself, Geoffrey. She’s exceptional.”
“Yes. I was just wondering...” He cleared his throat, glancing over at William across the fire. “Maybe we could force her to change into human form? Chain her up and uh, have a little fun—before we get rid of her?”
“After she leads us to the wolf den, of course.” William interjected.
Kirstin’s breath caught, her eyes flashing at the two English captains. She could have bounded into their camp and ripped them to pieces—and she wanted to. The two young men she wasn’t worried about. She would have both of their throats torn out before they knew what was happening. It was Lord Eldred she had to concern herself with. She didn’t dare attack while he had two free hands and was able to face her.
“You like to live dangerously, my young friends.” Lord Eldred chuckled. “And if she turned back into a wolf in the middle of your ‘fun?’ As a wolf, she outweighs you by a hundred pounds and could tear your throat out with her teeth in less than a second.”
Bloody well right, Kirstin thought with a low snarl. She caught herself, hoping no one had heard it. She often forgot how little humans paid attention to the things their senses told them.
“So, no fun then?” William sighed. “I’d like to say I bed a wulver.”
“You’d be in good company. King Henry himself has indulged.” Lord Eldred grinned. “Unfortunately, you can’t rape a wulver woman in human form. She can turn back into a wolf at will. So if it was a woman’s hot cunt you were looking to fill, you’d be out of luck.”
“So King Henry bed a wulver... when she was... uh...” Geoffrey looked at William and the realization dawned on both of them at once.
“In wolf form?” Lord Eldred’s grin widened. “Yes, indeed he did. The issue from that union runs the wolf den she’ll lead us to. If we can find the bitch. I hope Salt and Sedgewick are having better luck than we.”
Lord Eldred scowled into the woods. For a moment, Kirstin thought he was looking directly at her and she shrank back behind a tree.
“Do you think we’ve really lost her?” William mused.
“Mayhaps she’s back at the den already,” Geoffrey speculated.
“No. I believe she’s still actively evading us,” Lord Eldred’s gaze scanned the woods—Kirstin looked at him from behind her tree. He hadn’t seen her then. But he sensed something. “I think she knows we’re on her trail.”
“Mayhaps Salt and Sedgewick have found her,” Geoffrey said with a shrug. “They may already know where the den is.”
“It could very well be, but they haven’t sent my hawk.” Lord Eldred’s brow lowered as he looked between his young captains. “You did remind them to send my hawk, if they found the bitch or the den, didn’t you?”
“We told them,” both Geoffrey an
d William exclaimed at once, like lads reassuring their father their chores were already done.
Kirstin didn’t remember Lord Eldred bringing more than his two captains to the MacFalon castle. He had more men working for him, then, she mused. This Salt and Sedgewick. In secret. Behind Donal’s back, working all along for King Henry, who did want the wulvers dead, it turned out. Just like Alistair had claimed.
She remembered Lorien bringing word back that the king was upholding the wolf pact. He had been lied to, she realized. They’d all been lied to.
“They’re amazing creatures, if entirely unholy,” Lord Eldred’s gaze still scanned the tree line, making Kirstin sink even further back into the darkness. “Both more than men and more than wolves.”
“But the women!” William gave a little grunt, shifting in front of the fire. “Hotter than the blazes.”
“I’d still like to get my cock in that one’s mouth.” Geoffrey sighed, tossing the last bone into the fire and taking out a flask.
Lord Eldred laughed. “She’d snap it off and eat it as a treat.”
That was true enough. Kirstin would have been happy to oblige. It took all her energy to resist it, even now.
“Get some sleep, lads.” Lord Eldred tossed his stick into the fire. “Tomorrow we meet with Moraga.”
“Again?” William frowned.
“I’d like to get my cock in that one’s mouth, too.” Geoffrey took a long swig from his flask.
“She’s a witch.” William shuddered. “I’d be afraid she’d turn it to stone.”
“Could do worse.” Geoffrey chuckled. “At least you’d always be hard and ready to please, eh?”
“She wouldn’t touch either of you with a Maypole,” Lord Eldred scoffed, shaking his head.
“Do we have to meet up with her?” William asked, hurrying on to explain when Lord Eldred gave him a speculative look. “I mean, can’t you go alone? We’re supposed to meet up with Sedgewick and Salt the day after tomorrow at the old well.”
“Scared, young William?” Lord Eldred’s eyes flashed, the corners of his mouth curving into a sly smile. “You know, lads, we wouldn’t even have to be out here tonight if you hadn’t lost the wulver party when they left with that book.”
