A Bite of Magick

by Rhyannon Byrd

  She swallowed, feeling the oddest compulsion to comfort him. It was so bizarrely outrageous. If anyone had told her two days ago that she’d be sitting on her bed with a powerful Warlock who could shape shift into a deadly wolf, she would have laughed her ass off and then promptly informed them they were seriously delusional. And yet, here she was, and the strangest part of all was that she wanted him to stay right here.

  And just how badly she wanted it had her going quickly to her feet, no longer trusting herself to stay so close to him and not jump his gorgeous bones. Wrapping her arms around one of the beautifully carved foot posts, she looked down at his striking, masculine length. “That’s why you ran from me last night, isn’t it?”

  His jaw hardened as he nodded. The long, lean, muscled lines of his body were tight with tension, the beautifully round biceps in his powerful arms screaming of strength, making her mouth water. She stepped closer to his side of the bed, voice soft, soothing, like someone dealing with a skittish animal. “You could’ve just told me, Kieran. I handled the first revelation pretty well. What made you think I couldn’t take the second?”

  His arm lowered and his eyes shot open, zeroing in on her own with the precision of a laser-sighted weapon, dark and chaotic, so many emotions moving through the liquid black of his piercing gaze that it was hypnotic to watch. “Are you kidding me, woman?” he growled, sounding outraged. “There’s a hell of a difference between being Magick and telling you I wanna fuck your brains out as a bloody wolf and sink my goddamn teeth into you!”

  “Well, you wouldn’t have had to say it like that,” she snapped, losing her patience. “All I’m saying is that you could’ve tried trusting me, Kieran, the same way you expect me to trust you.”

  He snorted. “What world do you fuckin’ live in, Té? A fairy tale?”

  “No, but I think you do. Look at me, Kieran. I know what you are, but I’m not running from the big, bad wolf, am I? Why can’t you just admit you were wrong?”

  “Christ, Té, I can hardly live with it. What in the fuck makes you think I’d believe you can?”

  She looked confused, that small frown dipping between the twin arches of her fine brows. “But I thought you’d always had the curse?”

  “Aye,” he grunted, clearly not wanting to talk about it.

  “And you’ve never accepted it? Jesus, Kieran, that isn’t healthy.”

  “Thanks for the psychological profile, darlin’,” he sneered, his tone heavy with sarcasm. “And to think I never figured that one out on my own.”

  Té stamped her foot, clearly losing her patience. “Damn it, will you stop being an ass for two seconds and just talk to me?”

  There were five seconds of heavy silence, and then, “What do you want to know?”

  “How did it happen?”

  “It’s a long story,” he muttered.

  She arched her brow, smile slow and sweet as she leaned her back against the foot post. “Yeah, and I’ve got the time.”

  “Fuck. Whatever,” he grunted, knowing the damage was already done. Hell, if she hadn’t gone running at this point, why not open his veins and spill the whole miserable story? “The curse comes from my mother’s bloodline. She was the Laird’s daughter, of the Lindsay Clan. They’re a family of warriors, Magicks, who centuries ago had used shifting spells to transform their bodies during battle.”

  “Why?” she interrupted, clearly more intrigued than frightened.

  Kieran stared at her as if she were an intricate puzzle that needed solving, and then proceeded to explain, his tone flat and emotionless. “Because a shifter is all but invincible. In one particular battle over some valuable land, my mother’s people defeated the dragon-bred soldiers of a rather nasty Witch named Serena the Sable. In retribution for the defeat of her beloved army, she cursed the Lindsay’s bloodline to an eternity of the beithíoch—the beast—making it a part of our blood rather than a mere spell to control at our choosing. It soon became known as Serena’s Lupine Curse, and it has affected every generation of Lindsay males, and will continue to do so for eternity. The spell was such that it could no’ ever be undone.”

  She licked her lips, staring at him with an open tenderness that twisted his heart. “And you—you’ve had no choice in your changing?”

  He pressed deeper into the bower of pillows. “For the most part I have complete control. Until this fucking mating curse, I’ve only ever shifted during battle with an enemy, as many of those who would do battle with us use shifters as their first line of attack. There’s been times when I’ve gone weeks, months, nearly a year without shifting, though the longer I resist, the more strongly the beast fights me for control.”

  “And so that time with that woman—that was the only time you’d shifted during…sex?”

  “Aye, but I’ll no’ lie to ya, lass. The compulsion, the need, has always been there, though I’ve just been able to control it, partly because the beast had never tasted the pleasures of the flesh, and partly because I was no’ bedding my bith-bhuan gra. Those others were no’ the one he wanted.”

  “Your soul mate,” Té said in a hushed tone, remembering the Celtic phrase Evan had used to explain the nature of the Council’s mating curses.

  “Aye. And with her, I’ll no’ be able to control the change. For certain the first time I take her. Hell, maybe never.”

  She chose to ignore his veiled warning for the moment, and focused instead on getting all the details to his story. “And since that time, the curse has passed to each following generation, moved on from one male to the next?”

  He nodded, and neither of them mentioned the fact that the curse could very well carry on to Kieran’s own offspring. The answer was too obvious—the subject too tender, considering their tenuous relationship.

  “God,” she finally whispered. “I would have killed her.”

  A reluctant grin curled his lips. “You know, for a mortal, you sure are a fiery little thing.”

  Her head tipped to the side as she stared at him. “You called me that before. A mortal. You’re not….I mean you don’t…that is, you don’t live forever, do you?”

  His black eyes sparkled. “No’ unless we wish to cast a spell for immortality.”

  Her own eyes widened. “You didn’t…haven’t…have you?”

  “Nae.” He rolled off the bed in a smooth, masculine move, one step bringing him to within a mere foot of her body. His voice lowered and he came closer, suddenly crowding her with his tangible heat, his power spilling over her like a tempting, teasing Caribbean breeze. “Though I have to admit, I wouldna mind spending forever with you.”

  He was so close she could see the small pores of his dark skin, the tiny lines at the corners of his wicked eyes. “Only because you probably think I’m your whatever the hell you called it. You only want me because you think I can help you break this stupid mating curse, Kieran. But you don’t even know me. I’m sure there’s plenty of other women who would do.”

  A small smile curved his sensual mouth, tripling her heart rate. He shook his head slowly, his black hair moving like silk around his wide shoulders, dark skin stretched tight across muscle and bone. “That’s no’ how it works, lass. There’s only one woman, one true mate. Only one bith-bhuan gra. I have your taste on my tongue, burned into my memory, erasing any other woman I may have known, because they dinna matter. They were no’ the one. It’s you that I want, lass. No’ another.”

  Not knowing what to say to such an outrageously thrilling confession, she focused on the one part she could safely argue. “My taste? Ya know, I think I’d remember you going down on me, Kieran. And last night sure as hell didn’t go that far. I would’ve come if it had, instead of tossing and turning all damn night.”

  He gave her an infuriating nod. “Sounds like splitting hairs to me, Té, but if you’re no’ ready to handle it, then keep on hiding. But I do have your taste, smooth and sweet, because I sucked it from my fingers,” he whispered, looking down into her upturned face, holding her
hot stare. The difference in their two heights was such that he towered over her, though he was able to bring their faces closer, his nose brushing the tip of her own, by leaning over her as she stared up at him. “The taste of your cunt, Té. And, ah lass, it was so hot, so sweet, I nearly died. If no’ for this curse, I’d have come in my bloody pants then and there.”

  He leaned down, dipping his knees, and nuzzled the side of her throat, grinning as he felt the shiver quake through her sleep-soft body. “Or better yet, I’d have shoved you over that desk and crammed my cock up your hot little cunt,” he rasped in a low voice heavy with dark promises of sin and seduction. His hand slipped between her legs, one finger circling the rim of her panty-covered vulva. “Right here, where you’re so tender and wet, and I’d have fucked you until the only bloody thing you knew in this world was me. Me. My taste. My scent. The feel of my cock breaking you open, stretching and filling you so full and wide, pulling you so far apart, until you couldn’t decide whether it was pain or the best fucking thing you’d ever felt. Hot and hard and deep, Té, holding nothing back.”

  The tip of his finger slid through her slick, cotton-covered slit, finding the swollen crest of her clit and applying just the right amount of pressure to make her moan. He circled it in a dizzyingly slow pattern, changing tactics every few seconds and skimming the calloused tip across the sensitive nub, teasing her to the point where she thought she’d go mad. “Have you ever been fucked like that? Has this sweet little pussy ever been hammered into one orgasm after another, until you’re so hot and wet it’s dripping down these smooth little thighs, drenching you in cum?”

  She trembled beneath his touch, undone by his wicked words, barely able to recall the fact that she was still irritated with him. Damn it, she was—wasn’t she? “Do you…do you normally make it a habit of coming on to women you barely know, in their bedrooms, uninvited?”

  His finger drew back, immediately replaced by the intense pressure of his palm completely covering her sex, pressing hard, as if holding her possessively within his strong hand. “Do you normally make a habit of letting men you’ve only just met shove their fingers up your cunt?”

  Her eyes narrowed, flashing with irritation. “What can I say? You got lucky.”

  He couldn’t help but smile, despite the throbbing pain in his dick—the primitive need to push her over, shove her legs apart, and then fuck her the way he’d wanted to since first setting eyes on her. “Lucky? I’m no’ so sure that’s how I’d put it, seeing as how I woke up with your sweet taste on my breath. Do you know what that does to a man, lass? I’m so hard I could knock the bloody wall down. As stiff as a fucking spike.”

  “Your fault,” she huffed. “You ran.”

  His free hand, the one not shoved between her trembling thighs, stroked lazily up and down her spine, fingers spreading goose bumps in their wake. “And you can be relieved that I did, or you’d no doubt be more than a little sore this morning, Té.”

  Her face went hot at the decadent thought of being ridden that powerfully by a man—by this man. “That sure of yourself, are you?”

  “Aye, I am.”

  The simple, honest conviction of that statement made her breath catch, her blood race to the frantic cadence of her thundering heart.

  His fingers flexed against her moist pussy, the drenched fabric of her panties teasing her sensitive tissues with its delicate rasp. “I want you, Té. More than anything I’ve ever wanted before. Anything. I want to feel your cum on my skin, want my cock soaked in it, drowning in it. Want it filling my mouth and slipping down my throat. That’s the only thing that could ever come close to fucking you. Just shoving my face in your pussy and eating you out for hours on end, my teeth nipping at your swollen lips and aching clit, my tongue shoved up your tight little hole, parting those hot, tight walls, filling you, making you come ‘til it hurts. It’ll be so good, angel, I willna ever be able to let you go.”

  She trembled, and he nipped at the sensitive connection between her neck and shoulder, tasting her need on the warm flush of her skin. His gut cramped, balls aching, and he licked a long line up the edge of her throat, his teeth nipping at her earlobe, making her squeal. “But…for now I’ll settle for the pleasure of going with you tonight.”

  What?

  Té pushed away from him in shock, unable to go far within the sudden circle of his immovable, steel-roped arms. The change in topic was jolting, and she struggled to form her words. “You don’t even know where I’m going.”

  “I know you’re going to meet a man,” he announced in a hard voice. “And that’s all I need to know.”

  She pushed against his chest, harder this time, and he loosened his arms, allowing her to pull back and step away. “I won’t be alone, Kieran. Evan’s going to go with me.”

  He sat back on the edge of the high bed, watching her with hot eyes, and shook his head. “No’ anymore.”

  Té narrowed her gaze on him, not liking the thick satisfaction in his words. “What do you mean? What did you do?”

  “Nothing. But I saw her this morning at the café and she was all but busting at the seams about her first meeting with Meggie tonight.”

  “Remind me to thank her for abandoning me to the wolves,” Té drawled with a cool look, knowing this little change in plans reeked of Evan’s relentless matchmaking.

  “Dinna be thanking her yet,” he replied with an arched brow. “You’ve no’ seen just how wolfie I can get.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” she threw over her shoulder, looking for wherever she’d left her makeup case the night before. She couldn’t take it anymore. He looked like a dark god sitting there atop her white sheets, and here she felt like something the cat had dragged in. Damned jetlag was such a bitch. “And who the heck is this Meggie?”

  “The McKendrick midwife.”

  “Ooh, you guys have one of everything, don’t ya?”

  “We like to be self-sufficient, aye,” he agreed, shrugging his wide shoulders.

  Her lips twisted into a reluctant smile as she turned back to him. “Did I miss another fireworks display?”

  “You mean when Lach informed her she’d no’ be having the baby at a hospital?”

  “Yeah.”

  His lips answered with a boyish grin. “Nah, I’m sure she took it in stride, as soon as she realized it was Meggie they were going to see. Meggie’s an angel.”

  Té tried to look uninterested while she ran her wooden-handled brush through her hair, giving up on finding her makeup for the moment. “An angel, eh?”

  “An eighty-year-old angel, darlin’. You dinna need to be shooting daggers at me with those stormy blue eyes of yours.”

  She gave an elegant snort of humor. “Keep dreaming, McKendrick.”

  “Aye, well, considering I spent all night dreaming about you, it’d be my pleasure,” he rasped, enjoying the simple luxury of watching her brush all that thick, gorgeous hair. It was strange, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d stayed with a woman, once the fucking was done, long enough to witness her daily rituals, all those fascinating things women did to themselves in preparation for the world. He’d never realized how personal it was—how intimate.

  “I just bet it would.”

  “So it looks like you’re stuck with me. Your sister seemed to think I’d make the perfect escort.”

  Té’s look clearly said otherwise. “Yeah, I’ll just bet she did.”

  “She’d be hurt by that tone,” he tsked, giving her an infuriating wink. “You really need to learn how to control that temper, sweetheart.”

  She snorted again, telling him exactly what she thought about that little remark. “I just wish you’d trust me that this is not a good idea, Kieran. It’s an exhibition at an art gallery and if Evan can’t go with me, then I’d really rather just go on my own. The last guy I was dating didn’t particularly care for it, and I’d rather not have to go through a repeat performance.”

  His eyes narrowed as he worked through the many possibiliti
es of that statement. “But I’m no’ the last guy, now am I, lass?”

  Her lips curved, blue gaze devouring him from his big, bare, hair-sprinkled feet to the shoulder-length black silk of his hair. “No,” she agreed, swallowing hard. “You’re definitely not the last guy.”

  His eyes smoldered, dark and intense. “And now you’re going to tell me about him.”

  Kieran tried to keep his voice calm, but the undeniable thread of anger was clearly audible. He wanted—needed—to know if this was the prick who had dared to raise his fists to her.

  “Am I?” she tossed back, seeing right through him.

  “Aye. I’ve been patient, and I’m no’ feeling patient anymore.”

  “Hmm…that sounds bad for you, then.”

  “Damn it, Té, we need to talk about this.” His big hands fisted in the bedding at his sides, sensual mouth hard, lips pressed thin with determination.

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s important to me.” His hands flexed against the white cotton, clenching, knuckles going white. “You’re important to me.”

  The way he said that, the rough words spoken with such intense meaning and emotion, melted right through her. Sheesh, she was amazed she didn’t just fall over him, begging him to take her then and there. Without conscious effort, she heard herself saying, “Look, it’s no great mystery, okay? I got mixed up with the wrong guy, is all. No biggie. It sucked, but I learned my lesson, so you don’t need to worry. There’s really no story here, Kieran.”

  “Why dinna you let me be the judge of that?” he replied in a silky rasp.

  “Because it’s not your problem. I’m handling it—I mean, I handled it just fine.”

  “Damn it, you have a family now, Té. You have a sister who loves you and anyone by the name o’ McKendrick who would give their blood to save you were you in danger. When are ya going to bloody well realize that you dinna have to do everything alone?”

  Avoiding the touchy subject, she said instead, “I wouldn’t think some stuffy art gallery would be your cup of tea, Kieran.”