Viking's Moon (Children of the Moon Book 6)

by Lucy Monroe

  It felt so real, the scent of blood from her broken maidenhead impossible proof that they had mated in the flesh, even if they never did so at a soul level.

  Though, there could be no denying their souls were fully entwined for this moment in time. He could feel her pleasure, thoughts that were not his skimmed across his own, though he only got glimpses of them.

  She had enjoyed the sex. It was better than she thought it could be.

  Pride burned through him at that knowledge.

  Neilina collapsed on top of him and he felt his tiger leap forward, bounding toward the beautiful she-wolf in the distance.

  "Your soul is now with mine," Neilina whispered with awe. "I can feel you inside me."

  "Will you let me see what you do?"

  Several seconds passed before she said, "Aye." Even now hesitating at that last and final joining.

  But she had agreed, so Haakon gave his beast full rein to run free. The tiger and the wolf frolicked together and Haakon opened his eyes.

  No longer in the place of other, the darkness around him was nearly absolute, not even the moon casting its light over the water that made the boat beneath him rock.

  Then the clouds parted. It was only a small gap, but he saw stars he recognized. Haakon looked around, getting a sense of where the moon was and the direction of the horizon.

  Hundreds of years of Viking sailing knowledge had been gifted to him by the Paindeal Neart and he had never understood why his brain would be cluttered with what he was so unlikely to use, but now he did.

  He was able to share that knowledge with Neilina, giving her a sense of not only where she was but the direction she needed to take to reach her destination. He looked around the boat and saw an ancient navigation board, but no sunstone to use with it. Haakon kept the one his father had used on his voyages in his pouch, the same pouch piled on the ground beside his weapons in the place of other.

  Two dark shadowy lumps in the other end of the boat indicated her two companions, but now was not the moment to take the time to try to see them.

  He took careful note of all that was within his sight, memorizing the small patch of sky, the boat itself and what he could see on it. Then Haakon allowed himself a moment to revel in the closeness of their joined spirits before forcing his own to return to the place of other. This spiritual connection was as good as the sex, though he would have laughed at himself for saying so. A man did not seek the connection of souls over that of the body.

  Taking a deep breath and one last moment to enjoy what would, no doubt, never come again, Haakon closed his eyes and sought the connection to his beast, to his human body. He once again opened his eyes, a sense of isolation worse than anything he'd ever known assailing him, even though their bodies were still joined.

  For a moment he begrudged his mate the sharing of their souls, as it had given him a taste of what he could not have. But even though they would never be mates, she was Chrechte and it was his duty to protect her any way he could. Whatever the personal cost to himself.

  He saw her intention to move before she lifted herself off of him, her blood and his spend smeared on her thighs. She turned from him, as if now feeling the need to hide her nakedness.

  Haakon pulled his own breeches up, ignoring the rest of his clothes and weapons. There would be time enough to finish dressing when he'd said what needed saying. "You have a navigation board on the boat."

  "What does that mean?"

  He explained about the board that could be dropped into the water, the light of the sun casting a shadow to indicate the direction they were headed.

  "And if there is no sun as there has not been the past two days?"

  He dug through his things, finding his sunstone and showing her how it worked to draw forth the sun’s rays even when the clouds covered the sky.

  "But I do not have one of those on my boat."

  "Take this one with you."

  "It does not work that way."

  "You are so sure?" he asked nodding toward her body. "You felt the pain of your torn maidenhead, the blood from that wound scents the very air around us."

  "No, it cannot…"

  "Take it. If there is a chance. Take it. But even if you wake up without it, the memories I was able to share with you will make it easier for you to determine your course."

  She looked ready to argue, but finally nodded, putting her hand out for the clear stone.

  He released it to her, not regretting the loss of this connection to his father and the other Vikings that had come so many years before Haakon.

  His mate's life meant more than sentiment.

  It meant everything, though she might never believe him.

  Neilina stood, looking at him, her expression filled with determination rather than terror and something that almost looked like awe. "I can find my way now."

  "I am glad."

  "Thank you." She swallowed, like words were stuck in her throat. "I believe you have saved my life."

  "I have given you the gift given to me, no doubt by fate for this very moment. Thank that which made us and touched me during my coming of age ceremony with such a gift."

  She nodded. "I will, make no doubt, but I thank you as well. I have never given you reason to offer something of that like to me and I am grateful you did."

  He doubted the proud woman would make such an admission if they were in the physical world in which either lived, but here in the Chrechte realm, she offered him sincere gratitude. And he received it, knowing that was the best he would ever get from her.

  He was no fool. He did not take the gratitude, or even the physical joining that had come before it, as any sort of concession. He knew better. "I will not plant my sword again. If you have need of me, I will come."

  She nodded but said nothing.

  He had nothing more to say, so remained silent as well.

  At first Neilina had an inexplicable air about her, like she expected him to say something more. But when he remained silent, merely waited for her to leave him again, a look that could almost be disappointment darkened her eyes.

  Whyfore?

  There was nothing left to say between them.

  ***

  Artair ran in his wolf form, taking in the scents of his new home. Smells from the town and its many inhabitants, some Chrechte, some human, reached him. Though the town was several miles from the jarl's landholding, his wolf's sense had no trouble distinguishing the unfamiliar scents.

  And though Artair had left Einar speaking with his father, the jarl, the scent of Artair's newly discovered mate teased at those same senses, urging him to turn around and go back. His wolf whined for their mate, but Artair needed time by himself. Time away from this wholly unexpected turn of events.

  He'd never thought to find another mate, had accepted the fact he would live his life alone, with Gart as friend, but no more.

  Now he had another mate, the son of a jarl and alpha to the pride. One day Einar himself would be alpha to the Paindeal. Artair would be mate to the alpha; he would have responsibilities he'd never even considered and wasn't sure how well he would uphold. He was a man who was attracted to other men, aye, but he'd never anticipated being in such a place.

  Gart was not a leader, he would never be alpha, or even alpha's second.

  Einar was not only born to the role, but Artair could not imagine Einar submitting to another Paindeal as alpha, regardless of birth order.

  This powerful cat shifter was Artair's mate. His mate. And he wanted to claim Artair.

  Shouldn't Artair be rejoicing?

  Not running, fear and confusion creating a maelstrom of emotion inside him.

  But Artair's mate had already been named protector to the pride. Even though the conriocht had only just returned to the Faol, Artair knew how important that role was. And he was meant to stand beside Einar. Him. Artair's wolf had never sought to challenge others for leadership. He was content to serve as a soldier.

  As Einar's mate, Artair's life w
as now forfeit to the protection and safety of the pride as much as Einar's. This, at least, was something he had been raised to accept.

  If not on the level of a conriocht, he had still always believed the protection of the pack was his responsibility and he would have died to do so.

  Did Einar realize that? Did he know how committed his mate must be to the protection and betterment of the pride? The role that being his mate would thrust upon Artair.

  And how big was Einar's cat that he could replace the asmundr as protector of his people?

  The questions swirled in even Artair's wolf's brain, the usual peace he found in his animal form eluding him.

  Einar's beast would be bigger than Artair's wolf, that was for sure. Though Artair was not Omega, he had never been one of the larger members of their pack. He was a loyal soldier, trained well by his laird and Drustan, as all Balmoral were, but his wolf would not strike fear into the hearts of other Chrechte.

  It had never bothered him that Gart's wolf was bigger, but the thought of mating a Paindeal who shifted into a creature anywhere near as fearsome as the asmundr was daunting.

  Whatever the asmundr shifted into, it was no animal Artair had ever seen or heard stories about. The giant cat was bigger than some of the bears from his homeland with fangs as long as a child's arm. Fangs that looked sharper than a well-maintained sword. His powerful haunches would easily launch the biggest bear into the air in a wrestling match.

  And Artair's new mate shifted into a creature as fearsome, or close to it?

  His wolf whined again for their mate, but Artair refused to turn back. He needed solitude. He had to think. Had to come to terms with having a mate that was a fearsome creature. And was not Gart.

  Artair had spent all the years since his first change hoping, sometimes even believing, that one day Gart would accept the mating, that he and Artair would become lovers and spend their lives together. Family and mates.

  While Artair had told himself Gart had made his choice, that though he might have a destined mate, he was not destined to know the joy of a mating. His heart had still hoped.

  It was only the night before, after waking from the dream that revealed Gart's new mate, that Artair had truly fully accepted Gart would never be his. He'd known that Gart would fall quickly and fully for the beautiful Paindeal woman revealed to Artair in that dream.

  She was everything Gart had always said he wanted.

  Her features were perfect, her skin an exotic dusky tone, her body exactly what would entice a man who found the female form sexually pleasing. As Gart did, no matter that he'd had a male mate first. Her cat was as lovely as her human form, sleek and black, unlike any animal in Artair's experience.

  Most importantly she was a she and could give the Faol soldier the children of his own loins he longed for. A family the rest of their clan would accept and admire.

  Children.

  Artair had never thought to be a father, but Einar said there were two that he wanted to raise. Far more difficult than offering his body as protection for the pack, was the idea he would be responsible for the wellbeing of two small children and raising them to be honorable Chrechte.

  Fear mixed with excitement inside him at the prospect of something he'd never thought to have. Parenthood.

  Artair felt like a boat rushing over choppy water, like the seas they'd sailed to reach Greenland.

  He hadn't liked sailing and he didn't like the feeling of his life being tossed about like a toy on the expanse of a great ocean either.

  How could he mate another after the many years Gart had owned his heart?

  But how could Artair deny his mate?

  He knew, better than any other, that pain.

  Well, no doubt the asmundr understood it, but other than the Viking, Artair had never known another Chrechte besides himself that had a mate who refused them.

  It was simply unheard of for true mates not to claim one another. The gift of a soul bond was too rare. Too special.

  For everyone but Gart.

  His best friend had never even contemplated the idea of building a life with Artair, of looking for children who needed parents to love them in order to build their family, rather than fathering his own. Not like Einar.

  The Paindeal had been thinking about taking the orphaned children in before today, or he would not have spent so much time at their longhouse.

  He was a rare man.

  But that didn't change the fact he was also of the Vikings. Highland warriors had repelled Rome in centuries past, but even Artair's people did not have the reputation for violence and ruthlessness of the Vikings.

  Knowing one of their asmundrs had been a raider, explained part of that ruthless efficiency. Artair could hardly believe one of their own protectors had turned his strength against the Chrechte. Knowing of the conriocht, the dragon, and the griffin was new to the Chrechte among the clans, but that one of them could destroy rather than protect was still a concept Artair found near impossible to accept.

  Just as he was still struggling with Gart's rejection of their mating. He'd let his friend go for Gart's sake, for the sake of the mate he would one day meet and want. But being refused so many years had left a wall around Artair's heart. He didn't want to trust Einar.

  How could he know this Viking would not one day reject him as well?

  Yes, he felt the mating pull, but he couldn't be sure it was another true mating, an opportunity for their souls to join.

  And if they didn't join souls, Einar could set Artair aside. While there were laws and even church ceremonies governing the joining of two men's lives, they were not the same as a marriage blessed by Rome. They had legal and financial bindings, but did not carry the same lifetime inevitability. Required no Papal dispensation to set aside.

  He had no protection against heartache but the honorability of a mate he did not know at all. How could Artair trust that?

  Artair's wolf reveled in the sights and sounds of this new place and howled with delight at not having to get back on a ship for crossing the sea, even as his mind grappled with his new reality.

  Einar had threatened the jarl, his own father, with disposition if the law of Procreation was not struck from the Pride, but had he done that to pave the way for Einar to take over as pride alpha, or for the sake of his and Artair's mating?

  How could Artair know? He'd met the Viking only today. A week to get to know each other before they consummated their mating did not seem long enough.

  Yet, if he put it off, would he do the damage to Einar's heart and belief in his own value that Gart had unknowingly done to Artair's?

  An alluring scent carried on the breeze of this place that was even colder than the Highlands of Scotland, growing stronger and stronger. Spicy and feral, it teased Artair's wolf and his canine body changed course to get closer to the scent without conscious thought.

  Then to his left, a shape came into his peripheral sight, just a shadow at first, but soon he made out the form of a giant tiger. Not quite as big as the asmundr, it was still larger than any mountain lion, or even wild boar that Artair had ever seen.

  Artair's wolf's eyes could not distinguish colors, so the tiger appeared white and black to him, its fur bright against the green covering the land. It did not have the asmundr's oversized fangs, but his large jaw was filled with sharp teeth that could rip through a wolf's pelt with ease.

  Einar.

  It had to be. Not only was Artair's wolf reacting on a visceral level he could not deny, but there could not be another beast so large and fierce.

  Atavistic fear washed over him, even as Artair ran toward the giant beast, his wolf's legs covering the ground in powerful leaps. This was their mate, this tiger big enough to be a bear.

  Einar had to weigh at least thirty stone, his body nearly twice as long and as tall as Artair's wolf, his muscles so powerful, he covered the distance between them faster than Artair. The tiger ran beside Artair, making a chuffing noise his wolf instinctively knew was happiness
, or maybe approval.

  Their mate! His wolf wanted to play, though Artair had stopped playing in his canine form when he left his boyhood behind.

  But his wolf's instincts held sway right now, not his brain.

  He feinted a left, but then dove right, rolling Artair and his mate. Artair jumped up and barked with joy at the tiger, even as his human mind filled with uncertainty bordering on fear that the tiger would not understand the play and take his action as aggression.

  But Einar rose to his impressive height, chuffing at Artair before nipping at his tail and then darting back with agility shocking for an animal of his size.

  Delight coursed through Artair as he returned the play, which finally ended in a wrestling match he could not hope to win. But Einar never unsheathed his claws and though he could easily throw Artair, he kept the wolf close as they wrestled in play. Artair's wolf reveled in the play and the closeness of his mate even as his human heart opened a tiny crack to this fearsome creature that treated him so carefully.

  Finally, they stopped, both collapsing to the ground, their panting breaths mingling in the air around them. The tiger sniffed over Artair's body before curling around the wolf in a protective gesture that made that small crack in the wall around his heart expand alarmingly.

  But as much as Artair feared opening his heart to his mate, he and his wolf reveled in the nearness of the tiger and he allowed his body to melt into relaxation.

  They napped together, out there in the open space, nothing around for miles.

  ***

  Artair woke with a sense of wellbeing that had been missing since the first time he realized Gart had no interest in claiming him as mate.

  He hadn't even realized how deeply he and his wolf had suffered under the sense of not being wanted until he woke with a tiger's heart pounding a steady rhythm that went through his wolf's body, telling him all was well, his fears of the great beast for naught.

  He moved slightly, nuzzling into the tigers fur. Helpless against his instincts, Artair began to scent his mate. He rubbed his fur against the tiger, mingling their scents and creating a new fragrance he would spend the rest of his life craving.