Sorcha's Wolf

by Billi Jean

  “She means no harm. You are her favourite hero now, I am afraid.”

  The child let go of him and raced to her mother, he assumed by the almost identical blue eyes and long, straight blonde hair. “We owe you our gratitude. For many moons we have sought our daughter.”

  “It was Sorcha more than anything I did.”

  “Not true. You could have stopped Sorcha at any time. If you had, our daughter would have remained hidden from us, a slave to Helga. Instead you fought to save her, and your witch.”

  Alex suddenly felt heat hit his neck. He shifted his feet and glanced away from the two Fay. “I did what I could.”

  “Now you are anxious to poison the witch again, and use her to seek your vengeance.”

  “Poison is a strong word.”

  The Fay nodded. “True, but is it not accurate?”

  He examined the woman’s face and found no animosity there, only cool, clear curiosity.

  “She may not destroy the poison this time and permanently lose her gifts.”

  Alex frowned but when he would have spoken, the child squirmed. The woman gently set her on her feet and the young one raced back to him, hugging him around the waist.

  “You will do the right thing. I know this.” With a brilliant smile, she broke away and skipped to her mother.

  “May the light of the sun guide your steps, warrior, and provide you with the truth.”

  He wanted to ask her what she’d meant by her words, what she knew of Sorcha and more, what she knew of this poison that withheld her gifts, but she turned and with the child in her arms, walked away.

  As soon as they had left, he felt a curious sense of urgency.

  Sorcha.

  Suddenly he needed to see her again, feel her lips under his and not let her tell him no, not let her want to tell him no.

  Sorcha left Alex’s chambers and headed aimlessly through the gardens and fountains of the Fay realm. Samantha, a good friend and a member of her coven, had lived here for years and left, never to return. Now Samantha was mated to Alrick’s brother, Derek, a good friend to Alex. Samantha had even spoken of Alex, but mainly to complain about how cold the man appeared. She’d never returned to the Fay realm, nor ever would, Sorcha imagined. Not after learning that her life had been a lie here, in this realm. Sorcha had come here once before, but not returned. Life as head of her coven had taken all her time and then demanded more. She’d always wanted to return here, but hadn’t. Now, the magic of the realm surrounded her, but she found no peace within its embrace.

  “Why do you find no solace here, daughter?”

  Sorcha brushed her tears aside and turned to see the child she’d saved from Helga and her mother, walking towards her. The child slept soundly in Gwyneth’s arms, looking so peaceful Sorcha reached out and touched the silk of her long tangle free hair. “She looks so young, so small.”

  “She is young, by our standards, too young to have been exposed to such horrors.”

  Gwyneth bent to settle the girl in a low soft mound of grass. “Do you not want your mate now that he wants you?”

  Startled by the woman’s bluntness, Sorcha turned away, hiding the ache such words caused. Alex’s husky words rippled through her memory, ‘Witch, you drive me wild’. Why couldn’t she simply accept what he offered and not care what he thought of her?

  “He is here, you are here. What stops you?”

  Sorcha traced the lines of flowing vines in the fabric of her borrowed gown. He was here, somewhere. Probably finding relief like he had in the mountains, or with some willing woman who didn’t mind being called names. ‘Witch’. Why does that bother me? I am a witch. Who cares if he uses that? She cared. Throughout her lifetime, that name had been spat at her by her enemy. Alex wasn’t her enemy. Why did it matter so much? She felt like banging her head on the fountain—perhaps then she’d knock some sense into it. He’d been holding her, kissing her, doing things to her body she’d only read about in sexy romance novels and she’d…lost the magic of the moment because he’d called her a silly name.

  “Sorcha? Your aura has dimmed with sorrow. What troubles you so?”

  She shrugged and patted her gown flat where she’d been folding it and unfolding it. “He wants relief nothing more. Now, well, now he finds it elsewhere.”

  The woman laughed a tinkling soft sound that irritated Sorcha more than she could say.

  “Do you believe this? That he would turn from you and go find comfort from another while he knows he’s done something to upset you?”

  “Upset me? You give him more credit than he deserves, I think.”

  “And you don’t give him enough.”

  “I’m trying!” She sucked in a breath in surprise. She’d yelled at the poor woman. Trying for some control, she shook her head and gathered her thoughts before saying, more calmly, “I am trying. Every time he looks at me, every time I see the heat in his eyes, I can’t stop myself from wanting him. Why is that when he’s kidnapped me? I mean, even if now I know why and respect his need for vengeance, why would I fall apart in his arms? And when I do, I still can’t simply let go of the past and just sleep with him, not when he keeps throwing me with his behaviour.”

  “Do you believe he wants you simply as a man wants a woman? Truly?”

  Sorcha shrugged, not certain why she would reveal so much to this woman. No one knew of her pain, not even her sister. Why would she reveal herself now?

  Because he just made your dreams come true, then killed it all with calling you witch.

  He had no clue, either. He used witch the way some used wolf, or vampire, but to her, it was one more way he showed how he really didn’t care about her. And he didn’t. Not the way she wanted. She thought he might worry for her now, the way a friend worries, or the way someone who knows you shows concern if you get sick. So in other words, not at all.

  “Do you truly believe he doesn’t sense your pain?”

  “He doesn’t know I’m hurting. How could he know?”

  Gwyneth sat near her and regarded her silently. “At one time that may have been true, but not now. Slowly he is learning you, and your pain confuses him, as does, I think, his treatment of you. Sorcha, you must learn patience. Always so quick to action, so quick to anger. You two are well suited, for he is just as quick to anger, no?”

  She nodded, but for some reason smiled too, remembering the growl he often gave her instead of growing angry at her quick temper.

  “Think on him. Remember who he is, what he is, or was, before you entered his life. He was a man set on a course to fulfil his need for revenge not three days ago, and now that purpose, one he’s had for centuries, is slowly being destroyed by his witch.”

  “Witch. Exactly.”

  “He means no harm by the word, Sorcha. You are a witch. His witch.”

  She gave Gwyneth the incredulous look such nonsense deserved. “Oh, I doubt that. He’d have to recognise me and he doesn’t. Besides”—she flicked her hand at such rubbish—“I also have a name. He knows this, I’ve told him.” She threw her hands up and started pacing. Gwyneth simply watched her, the clearness of her gaze irritating Sorcha even more. “I am a means to an end for Alex. I see why now, I even want to aid him, but in the end, I mean nothing to him. Nothing.”

  “What do you fear most?”

  What did she fear most? The question startled her. The Fay used logic the way most used a sword, or magic, but unlike those other, more direct attacks, Gwyneth’s logic tossed her for a loop.

  She feared many things. Most tied to Alex. Tears flooded her eyes and she hugged herself tightly to try to keep them inside. “I fear being loved by him, but only in body, and then having him walk away, like he did before, but this time with a piece of my heart and not merely my dreams.” She swallowed painfully and ducked her head in misery. “I fear I will never recover from that, from knowing him, knowing what we could have and have him not wanting it—not with me,” she whispered. “He’s turned from me once and it nearly destroyed me. T
hat was before, though,” she managed. “I…I fear it’s too late. Already I see him and know I’ll remember every detail for the rest of my life. And yet, he’ll leave again, once this is over, once he’s either gained his revenge or—” She cut off unable to continue.

  Gwyneth stood and squeezed her shoulder. “Ah, child, you are full of fear. Full of the worries we all face when the chance at love presents itself. But with you, I heard the sorrow of your past colouring your future. You will need to let go of those memories, much as Alex will have to let go of this need for retribution if you two will find common ground. With love, comes the possibility of loss. But come, see, your wolf is not with another, no other I believe will do, nor ever has been enough.”

  Gwyneth passed her hand over the fountain’s waters and slowly the still water filled with a vision of Alex pacing his chamber, his hair a mess, his body tense and a frown of concern on his face. He paused to face her room, but started pacing again almost immediately. Seconds later a knock at his door revealed a beautiful Fay with raven black hair to her waist carrying a tray of food. Alex frowned at her irritably and motioned her out when she would have lingered. He stalked the room again almost immediately. She could see the bulge of his erection even in the vision and brushed her hand through the water to hide his condition from the Fay.

  Gwyneth laughed and fluttered her fingers at the building where Sorcha now knew Alex paced. “I have my own bonded. He more than satisfies and frustrates me. These things are between you and your wolf. He fights himself, and his hunger for you. Why?”

  “Because I am a witch, why else?”

  Gwyneth raised her eyebrows in dismay and spread her arms. “Why else indeed. You must discover why, but your man is waiting on you, Sorcha. Go to him. Be brave.” She reached out, displaying a silver pendant swinging gently from her long fingers. “But first, you will take this token from me, and when you have need, you will call my name. No matter where you might be, aid will come.”

  Sorcha accepted the tiny silver locket and bowed low. “Thank you for your kindness.”

  “Your kindness means more than you will ever now,” Gwyneth said, then bent to gather her sleeping daughter in her arms. Upright again, cradling her child, she gave Sorcha a challenging look. “Go now, take your chance, show your man who you are.”

  Sorcha nodded and smiled warmly at the Fay’s quick grin. With one more nod, Gwyneth walked out of the garden as silently as she had entered.

  Go to him. Could she do such a thing? Mortal women did, she knew this. Many of the immortals loved for a while, before drifting on to another and another. She’d never done such a thing. She’d shut herself off, built walls and had kept everyone outside. Could she let Alex in?

  Fear drove a spike through her heart. Could she? Take a chance and think of this not as whether he wanted her, but whether she wanted this—this moment with him?

  A feeling of rightness, of power eased through her. She’d been the victim, and hadn’t even seen it. She’d left her homeland like a wounded creature, so hurt by his dismissal all those years ago that she’d buried herself in running the coven, avoiding all contact with him.

  She could do this. He did want her. She’d merely make him see that he needed her, not just for this—tonight—but also for much, much more. Decided, she turned to go, wiping at her tears and froze.

  Alex stalked into the garden, stopping so suddenly when he saw her that his cloak fluttered around him. He’d bathed and dressed again in the Fay clothing. He looked so handsome in his Elfin gear she felt her stomach tighten in need. The soft material fit him, conforming to his broad shoulders and outlining his body with the darker green of his cloak like a backdrop of midnight meadows.

  After only a second, he rushed to her side and tipped her head up with a gentle hand under her chin.

  “What has happened?”

  The anxious way he examined her face brought more tears to her eyes. She shook her head and simply blurted out, “You hurt me, Alex. You.”

  He jerked back, looking alarmed at her tears. Just as quickly, he dipped his head to rest his forehead against hers. “I never wanted harm to come to you. Tell me what I can do to make this better.”

  Shocked by his gentleness, she stopped fighting her desires and shifted closer to him until her breasts brushed the silk fabric of his shirt. “Kiss me, Alex. Kiss me like you can’t live without me.”

  Alex growled low in his throat, igniting her passion to a fiery ache that made her both desperate and fearful that he would leave her this way. But he wrapped his arms around her and rubbed his unshaven jaw against the top of her head.

  “Tell me what I’ve done. How have I hurt you?”

  Questions. More questions. The time for thinking was at an end. She trailed her hands along the muscles flexing along his chest. “Not now, Alex. Just kiss me. I ache.”

  He caressed her from her shoulders down to her ass and on to her leg so he could position her to press his thick shaft to her core. She shivered at the now familiar move. The intimacy of the moment made her dig her claws into his back to hear him hiss out a breath. “I want more than kisses from your sweet lips, witch.”

  “Prove it, wolf.”

  “I’ll do better.” He pressed her back until they were under the sheltering branches of a weeping willow. “I’ll show you, eh?”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alex dipped with Sorcha and brought her gently to the ground, shifting her gown past her knees. The mighty boughs of the ancient tree surrounded them, creating a shelter from anyone that chanced by. The cool night air kissed her exposed flesh, contrasting with Alex’s hot body. He held himself above her by his arms and bent his head to press hot kisses to the rise of her breasts above the low neckline of her gown.

  “Damn, woman, you have the most beautiful breasts.”

  Sorcha shivered, uncertain if she did so because of his words, or because of the heat of his mouth hungrily devouring her.

  “Do you think so?” she whispered and gasped at the loss of his mouth when he rose to stare at her with an amazed look.

  “Aye, I think so,” he murmured. “Did you no’ know how lovely you look?” He smoothed both of his hands slowly up from her waist to right underneath her breasts and kissed the sensitive mounds he’d formed. “I’m going to make you come from kissing these beauties. Aye, the first time,” he growled, “you’ll reach your peak from my lips alone.”

  The tone of his voice, the rough, husky quality made her tremble. She ran her fingers through his hair, amazed that she could.

  Alex seemed to take her touch as encouragement. He became greedy, kissing every inch of her bosom he could reach. His hot, stinging mouth made her squirm under him, needing his naked body against hers so badly she moaned and arched her hips to rub her clit against his body. He pressed down, angling so the thick stalk of his cock rubbed against her just right.

  “Oh, that feels so good.”

  “Aye, it will soon feel much better,” he warned, then sucked so deeply at her flesh that her nipple popped free from her gown. When it did, he husked out a tortured sound and latched on. Suddenly lifting her, he frantically unlaced the back of her gown and shoved the material down to free her breasts.

  “Jesus,” he breathed.

  Before she could grow embarrassed by his stare, he smoothed his hands under her breasts and hefted their weight. His eyelids lowered and he gazed at her with an intensity that had her struggling to slide her arms free from her gown. She needed—no, had to touch him.

  “Woman, you stun a man with such bounty. I dinna know where to fuckin’ start with you.”

  He stopped her heart and made her squirm in pleasure when he drew one pink nipple into his mouth. The sizzle from the heat of his mouth travelled like an electric current down to her toes. He didn’t go quickly, but laved every inch of her while whispering huskily how lovely and full, how abundant and bloody gorgeous her breasts were. She trembled under him, arching her hips to rub her clit along him, so close to c
oming she whimpered.

  “Aye, aye, this is how you will come the first time, my beauty, come for me.” His voice had turned guttural and before she understood what he was doing, he began rocking her on his thigh keeping his hands covering her breasts. He used the flat of his tongue to tease her nipple and each time her flesh bounced from his rolling hips.

  Deep within her body, the tension to come grew unbearable. She felt ready to burst, but unable to take the fall. She felt overheated everywhere they touched. Her breath sawed out of her as if she’d run miles. Along her stomach she quivered, so close she simply gripped his head in her hands and held on.

  With a tortured sound, he released his grip on her and reached between them to press her gown out of his way. She aided him in wiggling out of the thing, only half-aware that something ripped before he tossed the fabric aside. He groaned, revealing such lust she swallowed heavily, almost fearful of the strain on his face.

  “So fucking perfect,” he murmured tracing a hand over her flat stomach to her ribs. “Such beauty. You kill me,” he muttered, settling his hands under her breasts. He bent and sucked on her nipple again, making her moan in need. She sucked in a breath, holding it when she felt him caress his hands ghost-like over her mound. Excitement tingled along every nerve so that when he slid a finger inside her pussy, she choked on a cry of pleasure.

  “Alex,” she whispered, not sure what she wanted, but unable to keep his name from bursting from her lips.

  “Holy hell, woman, so wet. So damn soft and wet,” he whispered into her chest and nipped the side, soothing the spot with hot kisses after. He shifted his palm, pressing against her clit and began stroking her. “So damn sensitive. Come for me.”

  He latched onto her nipple, drew on it and rocked her in his hand. That was all it took. She orgasmed so quickly stars flew across her vision. She panted his name and began pleading with him not to stop.