MacRieve (Immortals After Dark)

by Kresley Cole

  “Can’t we just take this more slowly?” Today she’d glimpsed what life with him could be like, and she wanted it.

  “I would dearly love to take you when you are no’ hungry. When you would no’ strew. When I could have control of my own actions.” Though his tone was even, his bearing told her he was aching for this.

  Her resistance was melting.

  “I dinna want to make you nervous, but tomorrow night’s the full moon.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “My beast will rise. It’ll seek to mate you all night, with much more power. I’ll have no control over it.”

  “Remember, I don’t have a problem with your beast. We got along great.”

  MacRieve’s expression was disbelieving, like a wolf sensing a trap—because the bait was too good to be true. “Then you’ll receive me under the moon? If I feed you between now and then, you’ll be strong enough to take me.”

  The bond would definitely be completed tomorrow; today would make no difference. Was she ready for this?

  “You have tae feed, mo chridhe.”

  My heart. He hadn’t called her that since the day of her turning.

  He brushed a lock of hair from her cheek. “I canna be easy until you have fed at least once a day. Besides, you will no’ want tae miss what I’ve in store for you.”

  The sinful look in his eyes made her stutter, “N-no?”

  He kissed her neck, her jawline, her ear, telling her, “I plan tae lick your sweet cunny right up tae the point when it’s quivering, about tae release right on my tongue. Then I’m goin’ tae fit my thick cock inside your sheath, fucking you till you come all over me.”

  She moaned, “You’re not playing fair.” She was losing this battle—happily losing it. So why was she still wavering?

  “Play fair?” He gave a husky laugh. “If you understood how badly I want you, then you would no’ even expect me tae. . . .”

  Will’s shaft pulsed, his ballocks full for her. He loved that Chloe responded to dirty words; now that he’d learned the power of them, he knew he was just going to get worse.

  Sex as a man was infinitely more exciting than sex as a beast.

  So stay down, creature. As if in answer, his beast started prowling.

  When Will reached for her shorts, this time she lifted up to help him remove them. Once she was unclothed, he savored the sight.

  Her vivid eyes were heavy-lidded, and sunlight glinted off the drops all over her supple body. He would never tire of seeing her breasts swelling for his greedy gaze, her nipples pouting for his mouth. Never tire of seeing her shapely legs trembling with anticipation. The way the tawny thatch of hair between her thighs sheened in the sun . . .

  Leamsa. Mine. At that moment, he didn’t feel cursed—quite the opposite.

  Determined to make her come during sex, he decided he would take her to the very edge. She’d pay for all her talk of whiskey dick and uneven scores. “Spread your legs for my kiss.”

  When she dutifully did, her heart sped up.

  “My wanton mate loves tae be tongued.” As he bent down to her sex, her luscious lips were pink and glistening. He used his thumbs to spread her moist folds wide, then thrust his tongue inside her.

  She mewed, arching her back and drawing her knees up around his head.

  “Gods, you heat my blood!” he groaned against her. He felt like a race was on—to take her to the brink before he lost his battle with his beast. And with his cock. It throbbed to replace his tongue, was spilling pre-cum into the water. He grated, “Play with your breasts for me.” Then he set back in, burrowing his tongue into her.

  With a cry, she lifted her hands, cupping those full mounds. When she pinched her nipples, he growled praise against her flesh.

  Between deep licks at her entrance, he said, “My seed’s going right in there. Right where you need it. Do you crave it, hot and thick within you?”

  “Y-yes!” she panted. Her thighs were tightening around his ears, her hands clutching her breasts.

  Already close. He kissed up to her clit, rubbing it with his tongue.

  “Oh God, MacRieve, oh God, I’m about to . . .”

  Somehow he drew back.

  “No! Why?” Legs still spread, she undulated for him with a breathtaking lewdness. So he speared her there with a thick finger. Slippery flesh clenched around it.

  “Ahhh!”

  He took his finger away. “Feels empty?”

  When she could only moan low, he knew Chloe had given him her fire to tend once more. He was steering this encounter, he was leading them. He’d married his mate’s will to his.

  Now, if only he could govern his beast so well.

  Will dragged her closer, so her arse was at the edge of the bank. With her spread even wider before him, he cupped her sex possessively. “Is leamsa so.”

  She mindlessly rocked to his palm.

  “This is mine. Look at me and tell me that.”

  She opened her eyes. They were green—telling him she was about to orgasm for him.

  “It’s y-yours.”

  “And what are you?”

  “I’m yours too.”

  “Good girl.” He entered her with a swift thrust of his cock.

  She came immediately, freeing him, lessening his nerves. As her sheath squeezed his length and wetness coated it, he rasped, “Tapadh leat, aingeal.” Thank you, angel. Then he plunged into her come, yelling out to feel it. “Your honey’s all over me.”

  Her head lolled, her mouth open on a soundless cry.

  Keep the beast down. This was too powerful to share; Will wanted her all to himself. He wrapped one arm around her arse, one around her neck, lifting her to him.

  With each thrust, some indescribable need seemed to awaken more and more, one that had nothing to do with his beast or his Instinct. He felt like he couldn’t get close enough to her—though he’d clenched her body seamlessly to his.

  He felt like he couldn’t fuck her hard enough—though he was pistoning his hips between her thighs.

  He was inside his mate, and yet he was desperate for her. Madness seemed to dance at the edge of his consciousness. How could he want her so . . . violently?

  His heart thundered in his ears; his chest felt scored inside. Crazed, he drove in and out of her. Only one thing could make him this frantic for her! “Your strew, it’s happening.”

  “How c-can you tell?”

  He clamped her nape to meet her gaze. “Because I am”—thrust—“fucking”—thrust—“ravening for you!” His roar echoed off the rocks, louder than the falls.

  When she whispered, “I feel the same,” emotions he didn’t understand overpowered him. Dangerous feelings. Demented. Dark.

  I’ll die without her. I’ll bluidy die! He roiled with confusion, his thoughts tangled. Sometime in his frenzy, she’d come again. She was now limp in his arms, moaning with ecstasy, simply taking his manic shafting. He clasped her beautiful face, dipping his thumb between her lips. She sucked it with bliss, eyes rolling back in her head.

  My lass, my lass. Love.

  When his beast rose up with redoubled strength, Will was too dazed to fight any longer. He receded. Tend her well, beast, she’s yours.

  For now.

  Never withdrawing, the beast maneuvered her body, flipping her so that her front lay on the grassy bank.

  Pressing her head down and lifting her arse, it pounded into her from behind like the animal it was.

  It moved her thick mane of hair to bare her neck, gazing at her flesh with longing, baying to mark her there.

  Give her enough, but no’ all. . . . Will reined the beast back in, denying its bite—allowing only the strongest ejaculation they’d ever known.

  FORTY-ONE

  Is it like this for other people?” Chloe asked. She and MacRieve were lying on the bank together, reclined on their sides, naked in the late afternoon sun. His smooth, damp skin was flushed from exertion, his muscles still bulging. His eyes were heavy-lidded and
warm gold, his beast at rest.

  MacRieve gave a short laugh. “I know I’ve never felt anything like it.”

  With a grin, she said, “Did your ballocks beg for mercy?”

  “They still are.”

  She laughed. “I used to wonder why everyone was always thinking about sex. I couldn’t understand it. Now I do.”

  And more, she’d been reminded today of how good it could be between them, her hope-spark flaring unchecked. To think she might’ve missed this if she hadn’t given him a second chance!

  “Hey, aren’t you supposed to mark my neck?”

  “In time.” Had his gaze darted?

  “If we’re going to keep doing this, I need to get on birth control. Munro said he didn’t know what my cycles would be like.”

  “You’ve no need to worry about that.”

  “How can you be sure? MacRieve, what if I did get pregnant? What would you do?”

  There. A flash of anguish before he disguised it.

  Her heart fell. She’d wondered how he’d feel about having children with her. Now she knew. She could even understand it, considering his past. That didn’t mean she wasn’t hurt.

  She got up to dress. “Message received.” Then she sucked in a breath. “Would something be wrong with them? Would they be monstrous?”

  He sat up with a weary exhalation. “Monstrous? Nay. But they could be incubi or succubae.”

  She stilled. “You just so much as said, ‘They wouldn’t be monstrous, however, they could be like you.’ ”

  “That’s no’ what I said.” He ran his fingers through his wet hair. “You are the one who wanted to take this slow. The idea of children is a lot to wrap my head around.”

  She yanked on the wet shorts, searching for her bra. “What if it’s already happened? It might have!”

  “Rest easy, Chloe. The talisman you wear has been imbued twice. Once to keep you hidden, and again to keep you from getting pregnant.”

  “What?” She turned on him, draping her arm over her breasts. “You put me on birth control without even discussing it with me?”

  “Your eyes are glowing with anger? Do you want me to impregnate you?”

  “No, but I hate that you made a decision like that for me! That shit might’ve flown in the eleventh century, but not today.”

  He rose as well, dressing with obvious irritation. “We were no’ exactly speaking much when I was ordering the talisman.”

  “That was only two days ago. Yet you’re acting like everything’s been settled with us.”

  “It has! We intended to start anew, remember? I’ve accepted that you need to feed from me. I’ll claim you once more, and then you’ll be mine forever.”

  “I haven’t promised you anything, and you’re illuminating why that was a smart move on my part. Do you try to hurt me? Or is it just a talent? Because let me tell you, you’ve hit me with some sharp zingers over the last week. Hey, at least you didn’t puke today. Progress!”

  Between gritted teeth, he said, “This is getting blown out of proportion.”

  “Do you expect me to wear this bracelet for eternity? What happens when I eventually want kids? Hell, you’d probably just cut off their heads, right?”

  “Doona be ridiculous,” he said with a scowl. “If we had children, we’d have to remain away from my clan, for fear our offspring would prey on others.”

  “Maybe they’d be dormant like I was. We could find out if you ever let me talk to my kind!”

  “Never!”

  She saw him digging his claws into his palms, but was too furious to care. “Never? Because all of them—down to the last male, female, and child—are evil?” She started off in the direction of her bra. “I’m sure you’ve met them all!”

  He followed. “You’re making more of this than you should!”

  “I am? So it’s my fault that I’m mad—because I am overreacting.” Again, she was one decibel away from screeching.

  His eyes widened. “I doona want to assign fault. That’s no’ what I meant.”

  She found her bra, yanking it on. “I thought we had a shot, thought I could make you see I’m not like the succubae you’ve encountered before. That’s not even possible, is it?”

  She was no victim, but that’s what she was acting like—a pushover, rewarding his hostility with softness.

  That was a losing strategy in soccer—and in life.

  He was beginning to look alarmed. “If you want offspring, even after I’ve expressed concerns, I’ll give them to you!”

  “You’re missing the point. Until you can get right with what I am, until you can imagine having kids with me, there is no hope for us! The thought of having a little girl like me should make you happy, not fill you with disgust. Whatever this is”—she waved from him to herself and back—“it’s doomed.”

  “Doona bluidy say that!”

  “You’re blinded by hatred, and I won’t tolerate being treated like shit anymore; ergo, doomed! My God, MacRieve. Even I’ll admit defeat when I’m down twenty points with two minutes left on the clock. Anything else is just delusional.”

  As Will watched her striding away, he chuffed with displeasure.

  His mate was walking away from him—directly after telling him she thought they were doomed. This would set any Lykae’s teeth on edge.

  His beast howled inside, hankering to lope after her.

  In an attempt to give her space, Will trailed after her at a distance, keeping her in sight. Damnation, he was out of sorts, already wanting her by his side. Not surprising, considering that he’d just experienced some kind of strew-induced, transcendent sexual frenzy with her.

  When sheep got in his way as he crossed a field, he gave a halfhearted growl, sending them scampering.

  Yesterday when he’d felt her succubus pull, he’d been sickened. Today? He’d lost the ability to stand, collapsing over her back. When he’d finally opened his eyes, he’d leaned down to kiss the corner of her lips—because they’d been curling with a satisfied smile.

  Satisfied! Gods, she pleased him.

  Sex with her hadn’t just blown his mind, it’d tweaked his gray matter forever. What he’d known about bliss was now changed, the upper threshold ratcheted up to record heights.

  Over this day, he’d had three realizations.

  First, to possess Chloe as his own, he would let her feed from his body for eternity, allowing her to compel him with strew for just as long. He might not be happy about it, but he wanted her so badly, he would do anything to keep her. Every man had his own secret sorrows. So would he.

  Second, he didn’t know when—or if—he could claim her with his bite. Withholding it made him feel more in control. Keeping something back allowed him to rationalize all he was ceding.

  And last: Though he didn’t dread taking on her venom as much as in the past—it would tie her to him—he didn’t relish the idea. Regretfully, but valiantly.

  All his life he’d had a phobia about three times. Now it seemed his mate did as well.

  No matter. It would happen with their very next time.

  When Chloe entered the keep, she slammed the door behind her. All right, mayhap he should’ve told her everything the talisman did when she’d first donned it. Yet at the time he hadn’t felt consideration for her. And aye, that was only two days ago, but something had been shifting inside him. He was adjusting to her species, making concessions.

  Because today, he’d begun to believe they had a future.

  Right when she’d become convinced they would end? He needed to make some kind of gesture. Something to convince her he would try.

  Will remembered when he’d been eight, he’d broken his mam’s favorite vase. Filled with guilt, he’d charged out to pick her flowers, the only thing he could give her. With her gaze twinkling, Mam had ruffled his hair. “Ach, Will, now it does no’ matter that I’ve nothing to put them in. . . .”

  So what to give Chloe? His eyes widened. The attic of this place was full of treasur
es.

  FORTY-TWO

  Way to lower the boom on him, Chloe thought as she scuffed to the bathroom, turning on the shower in the oversize stall.

  She’d meant to act like her old self, letting things roll off her back, rubbing dirt on it, rolling with the punches.

  Instead, she’d lashed out at MacRieve. She didn’t even want kids anytime in the near future! But when she did have them, she didn’t want their father to gaze at them with that anguished expression.

  Like the way my dad looked at me that last night.

  Did MacRieve still gaze at her that way when she wasn’t looking? She wished she could talk to his beast—and tell it to whip MacRieve into shape.

  She peeled off her abused clothing, glaring at her bracelet. That bastard had put her on birth control, like she was chattel! If he had to take a business trip, would he strap her into a chastity belt too?

  Under the steaming water, she winced at her sore muscles. She might have been fed, but she was still feeling the day. Her head ached and her stomach felt weird. She supposed too much running—and too much rough lake sex—had worn her out.

  One of her breasts had a grass stain across it, and claw marks dotted her hips. Hey, not much different from a soccer match, Chlo!

  When she was finished showering, the bed looked too inviting to resist. She changed into her new PJs, tossed a log on the embers in the fireplace, then crawled under the covers.

  She stared at the ceiling, glad to have this time alone. All these new aspects of her life had been hitting her so fast that she’d barely had a moment to reason through them. For instance, it was now dinnertime; she would never eat dinner again. That was going to take some getting used to.

  Also, she should probably accept her familial situation—as in, she didn’t have one anymore. She’d told herself that as long as she continued eating, she might not be totally “detrus-ed out” to her dad. He might still accept her.

  Now? The odds looked grim.

  In time, maybe she could track down Fiore’s family—but then, MacRieve would never allow her to see them.

  Noises sounded above her, as if he was rummaging around the attic. For what exactly? It wasn’t like there’d be scrapbooks or old yearbooks. No vids of MacRieve’s first steps. . . .