by Moira Rogers
To keep the moonlight out of the fortress. To keep those within safe from the men of the family, who turned wild when the moon touched them. “There are magics which can hold the curse at bay for a time, but they funnel the beast into violence. If there is no war to be fought, it is madness to try.”
Iloria stared at him, studying him, as if she sought some hint of that insanity in him now. “Magda told me you’ve never hurt anyone under your care. Is that true?”
Because he’d never allowed anyone too close. “It is.”
“Farran.” She closed the distance between them and touched his elbow. “I’m sorry. It must be terrifying for you.”
He’d expected many things, but not sympathy. “This has always been my life. I should have given you a choice as to whether you wanted it to be yours.”
“Yes,” she agreed, “you should have. But what’s done is done, and now we are joined. All we can do is move forward.”
Ruthless practicality, so stubborn she might just be the woman to handle him. It made him smile. “And we shall, if you are willing to let me set boundaries to ensure your safety.”
Iloria backed away until her knees hit the side of her bed. She sat. “Tell me what I should and should not do.”
No reason not to give her the truth. “We will have to do things differently from how you’ve been taught. There are ways I can touch you—ways I can show you pleasure without risking madness—but I cannot take you. Not until you are ready to be mated.”
“I understand. You must maintain control.” She tilted her head, her dark hair falling over her shoulder. “But what of you? Your pleasure?”
The goddess was truly cruel. He tried not to make his voice too gruff. “I’m not a selfless man. The things I do to you will please me.”
Iloria nodded and lifted her hands again to the clasp at her throat. “Shall I?”
“No.” An order, and it snapped from him with the same harshness he would have used on a battlefield. Cursing his self-control, he softened the word with a smile. “Give me your permission to remove it when I’m ready.”
Her brow furrowed, but she inclined her head again. “Of course, you must do as you will. As you desire.”
A thousand battles won, but tonight would be the truest test of his mettle. “I desire to please you. Trust me, wife.”
Her hands dropped once more to her lap, and there was no hesitation in her dark gaze as she watched him. “I trust you.”
Iloria sat, waiting for Farran’s attentions, and tried to calm the butterflies in the pit of her stomach. If he were beastly, surely he’d have less anxiety. He would take her, and damn her pain and discomfort. Maybe even her terror.
Instead, he seemed determined to move slowly, to ensure her enjoyment, and that made her think she hadn’t gone mad after all. That it would be all right.
She fidgeted with the layers of thin silk that covered her thighs and watched him. He watched her in turn, his gaze hot but restrained.
The moments slipped by, and the tension in his face tightened until he broke with a groan and hit his knees in front of her, his hands on her knees. “You’re beautiful, Iloria.”
She touched him without thought, because running her fingers through his hair felt right. “Thank you.”
He didn’t stop her, though his fingertips dug into her legs for the briefest moment. “What have you been told about what happens between a wolf and his mate?”
“Only that the two are bound together.” It had seemed innocuous enough during her lessons, but now, staring down at the strong lines of Farran’s face... Her body heated. “I should like for you to explain it to me.”
He chuckled hoarsely. “How a man comes into a woman? I should explain this?”
“Mating.” She could barely breathe. “I know the rest. My tutor was once a lauded courtesan who served the High Lord. She taught me much about the ways in which women give and receive pleasure.”
“Did she?” Farran began to gather the fabric of her gown, easing it up a handspan at a time, until he held the bulk of her skirts in his large fists. “Did it intrigue you?”
“How could it not?” Her skin was on fire, and a foreign hunger twisted in her belly. “She spoke of ecstasy, an entire world I’ve never touched.”
“Did she speak of what a man might do with his hands and mouth?”
If he hadn’t been kneeling in front of her, she might have slid off the bed. “She did. She said some men enjoy such things.”
He coaxed her knees apart and wedged his body between them. “In time, I will. First, I would have your mouth again. Kiss me.”
Tasting him before had brought an unexpected pleasure, and Iloria didn’t hesitate to renew the sensation now. His tongue was hot and rough, and the gentle rasp of it over hers tugged at something low in her body. She fidgeted on the bed, seeking relief from the ache.
His large, scarred hands left her legs to smooth up her sides, still stroking through the layers of her gown. He touched her breasts, cupping them as he licked her lower lip. “Do you enjoy this?”
An odd word, a weak one, for the way her body flamed at his touch. Iloria dropped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut with a low noise she couldn’t contain. “What will you do if you do not plan to take me?”
“Learn you.” His thumbs worked at her nipples, rubbing in slow, taunting circles that scraped her gown over her rigid flesh.
“No, I—” She would have to speak plainly about matters, whether the words embarrassed her or not. “You said as much. I meant to ask if you will allow me to alleviate your arousal as well.”
He froze, his hoarse groan rasping over her chin. “In time, perhaps, but not tonight. I am capable of alleviating my own arousal.”
His words evoked irresistible images of his hand around his erection, his naked body sheened with sweat and his head thrown back in helpless pleasure. “Oh. You—of course you are.”
Another low noise. “Are you imagining it, wife?”
A curious excitement edged his voice, and Iloria couldn’t help but respond to it. “I think…I should like to watch that.”
Rough fingers twisted in her gown, tearing it a little. His breath hissed out between his teeth, teeth that closed on her jaw a moment later in a sharp bite he immediately soothed with his tongue. “I’m going to give you release. Then I’ll take mine with my hand, and you will watch how I do it so you will know what pleases me.”
Iloria bit back a whimper, and all she managed was a quick nod and a breathless, “Please.” She ached with an emptiness only he could fill, and sheer willpower alone stopped her from urging his movements.
Farran smiled at her. “Lie back, my lady, and let me taste you.”
How was it that she could be so shameless? She was a virgin, as befitted her status and upbringing, but even the occasional sexual urges she’d steadfastly ignored had been nothing compared to this. Farran was about to put his mouth on her, lick and stroke her to orgasm, and instead of wanting to blush at the intimacy of it, she wanted more. She wanted to taste herself on his tongue as he thrust into her, as he drove deep and gave her his passion.
His hands were gentle, and he coaxed her robe up, leaving her bare to the heat of his breath. He stroked the sensitive insides of her thighs and hummed in something that sounded like approval. “How curious are you, wife? Do you wish to lift yourself on your elbows and watch me?”
Instead of answering, she propped up, bracing her elbows behind her on the bed. “Part of me wishes to torment you like this. Kneel at your feet and make you yearn for my mouth.”
“As if I could yearn any more.” He swept his thumbs higher until he was almost stroking sensitive flesh. “You’re wet. Aroused.”
Her hips jerked. “Did you wonder if I would be?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he slid his fingers over her folds and groaned when she choked out another moan.
It felt better than she’d dreamed, so different from her own explorations. Of course he would know how to do this. He�
�d had women, knew how to bring them to exquisite heights of sensation. At any other time, it might have made her feel inadequate, even jealous.
For now, she was only glad that he would find satisfaction in teaching her.
Farran looked up and met her gaze as one finger parted her and edged inside. “Does this please you?”
“Yes.” The word sounded impossibly strained, and Iloria realized she was panting. “Farran?”
“Yes, Iloria?”
He liked having her at his mercy, she could hear it in his voice. It made her want to push him, test his self-control. “Fuck me with your fingers.” Naughty words her courtesan tutor had taught her, and she used them now the way Farran used his hands—to tease. “Make me come.”
A sharp growl tore through the room, and he closed his hand on her thigh and pushed it wide. “Do you even know what the words mean, or were you educated in all the things to say to make a man wild?”
“One does not preclude the other.” His eyes were stormy, but she could feel he wasn’t angry. “I know what the words mean. I could show you, if you like.”
Farran caught her hand and lifted it to his mouth. Dragging his tongue over her fingers, he licked two of them until they glistened, then guided her hand down her body. “Show me.”
Yes, if there was anything that might convince him she could handle his demands, this was it. She could show him that she knew physical pleasure, lonely though it had been. And then, perhaps, he would make love to her.
Iloria shuddered and slipped her hand between her spread thighs.
Overconfidence had led him into many an ill-advised battle in his youth, but none so foolish as this. Farran rocked back on his heels and watched his demure, well-bred wife slide her fingers into her cunt.
Sweet goddess, forgive him for encouraging her.
She arched her back with a sigh and pushed her fingers deeper. “Is this what you need to see?” she asked in a whisper. “I may be a virgin, but that doesn’t make me shy or fragile. It only means no other man has touched me.”
The little witch had to know how the words would stir him. How instinct would roar its pleasure at knowing the mate he intended to take would know bliss from no male but him.
He was being managed already, by a scrap of a girl who should have cowered in terror from him. It should have been infuriating, maddening...and all he could do was press the heel of his palm to the front of his breeches and wish he was in private so he could deal with the painful arousal.
Or perhaps dealing with it here was the answer. She might not be so eager when she saw how tiny her fingers were compared to his cock. “You needn’t be fragile to be unprepared for the demands of a mating.”
Iloria’s dark eyes flashed, but she didn’t argue. “Shall I continue, then?” Her hand moved, slowly at first, until she broke her silence with a whimper and began to rock her hips to meet each hard thrust of her fingers.
Just that quickly, the beast snapped his leash. Feral possessiveness roared up, and he closed his fingers around her wrist and dragged her hand from her body. “Mine.” It came out as a snarl. He had to close his eyes to fight back the urge to drive deep into her body and revel in being the one who made her whimper in pleasure.
She didn’t pull away, but she did hum soothingly. “Touch me,” she pleaded. “Bring me the release you promised, and show me yours.”
His fingers were so much wider than hers. He pushed two inside her and groaned at the tightness of her body, as hot and wet as she was. “Too much?”
“It’s...different.” She clenched her hands in the covers. “Don’t stop.”
He wouldn’t, not until she panted and begged for the pleasure to end. “Tell me what else your courtesan taught you.”
“M-many things.” Iloria writhed under his touch. “But one intrigued me.”
A wise man wouldn’t ask. “What was that?”
“She said that pleasure dulls even the greatest pain. I wonder...” She lifted her hand to her breast and pinched the nipple standing hard under the diaphanous silk. “Oh. I—I think—” The words dissolved in a sharp cry.
She was beautiful when she came. Free, her head thrown back, her slim throat working as she made sweet, needy noises—and if he focused on those things, he might be able to ignore the heat of her cunt rippling around his fingers.
But he couldn’t ignore the way she rolled away, struggled upright, and stared at him with glazed eyes as she shivered. “Abrupt, I know,” she panted, “but I fear I may start to beg if you continue touching me.”
Begging would please him well enough. “You wish for me to stop?”
“You said you cannot take me, not yet.” Her voice dropped as her gaze slid over his body. “That is what I would beg for. Instead, I shall content myself with watching your release.”
With his control so fragile, he didn’t dare. “Tomorrow,” he promised gruffly. “I will let you watch then. Tonight, you should rest.”
She froze. Her brows drew together in a stormy frown, but she only said, “I thought…”
Farran sighed and rocked to his feet. She was angry with him now, but in time she’d understand. “Sleep well, my wife.”
“I shall.” Her gaze dipped to the front of his pants, and a blush warred with her fervent disappointment. “Good night.”
It would not be a good night, not in the least. Farran took his leave, every step an act of willpower. At least there were not so many to reach the heavy oak doors leading to his suite.
His empty, cold suite. He slammed through the sitting room, boots scraping over carpet worn down by years of abuse from wolves who cared little for appearances. The ladies of this particular castle rarely ventured into their husbands’ domains, and the lack of gentle comforts showed.
It had never bothered him before. Of course, the lady in question had never been his, a wife he’d taken in a moment of weakness. He growled as he shouldered through the door and stormed into his bedroom.
No moonlight. No lights at all, since he’d forgotten to bring a candle. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need the lamp, not for this. Nothing but his own hand, rough enough to tear his breeches. When he curled his fist around his cock, his imagination provided ample fantasy, building on memory until he could almost see Iloria on her knees before him. Begging. Eager.
Pleasure twisted, sharpened, and another growl escaped as he jerked his hand roughly over his erection. When he spilled, it was with a moan of release, her name caught in his throat.
He would be begging, soon enough.
Chapter Three
After a restless night spent alternating between cursing herself and damning her new husband, Iloria forced herself downstairs for breakfast. Farran could humiliate her if he chose, but if he expected her to cower in her bedchamber for a week afterward, he would be disappointed.
She was no shrinking flower. She wouldn’t hide.
So she plastered a bland look on her face and breezed into the room. “Good morning.”
He barely looked at her before his gaze skittered away, landing somewhere near her elbow. “My lady. I trust you rested well?”
“Very well.” Was that what he wanted to hear, that she hadn’t lain awake and wondered what she’d done to drive him away? “You?”
“Well enough.” Farran cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his plate. “The kitchen staff hadn’t the time to prepare a celebratory meal, but they brought up cheese and fresh fruit from the village.”
A guilty, helpless confession, and a reminder. He hadn’t meant to bring her here. He hadn’t wanted her here. She sat. “It will be fine, I’m sure.”
“Yes.” Belatedly, he half rose, as if he’d only just remembered he should have offered to hold her chair. After an awkward, frozen moment, he sat again. “The cook will be glad to have you to deal with.”
Iloria unfolded her napkin in her lap and sipped her water. “I was hesitant to disrupt her routine today, but tomorrow I shall begin consulting her about the
weekly menus. If that’s all right with you, of course.”
The noise he made sounded like approval. Mostly. “You should plan to dine with me every night.”
Iloria lifted a berry to her lips. “If that is your preference.”
He stared at her mouth like a man starved, as if he might fall on her at any moment. His words, when he spoke, came out rough. “It is.”
He was afraid of her.
The thought startled her even as she discarded it. Afraid of himself, perhaps, of his lack of control. And why wouldn’t he be, with the moon fast approaching its heaviest phase? She hadn’t helped matters by pushing him the night before, by donning those ridiculous robes and demanding his attention.
She chewed slowly, considering her possible courses of action. If she asked to leave, he would no doubt return her to the palace. He would explain to the High Lord that he’d made a terrible mistake, that she was untouched, and that their union should be immediately undone.
Or...she could stay. Make an effort.
Iloria ate in silence for several minutes, then pushed away her plate. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior last night.”
If anything, the words seemed to appall him. “You most certainly may not.”
She ignored the command. “I should have left the robes in my trunk. You said that you mean to give me time, and I’ve decided that’s best. For both of us.”
Silence. He took a long sip from his cup, then grunted. “It’s best.”
“The next few days will be very busy for both of us, but dining together is a splendid idea. It will give us a chance to get to know one another.”
Another grunt, and he finally lifted his gaze to hers. “I will dine with you every night except for that of the full moon. I prefer to be alone.”
Yes, afraid of himself, of the curse that twisted inside him. “I understand. It would be best not to take chances.”
“For your safety.”
There was something almost desperate about the statement, and Iloria stared at him. “Farran, if you need me with you then, all you have to do is say—”
