Chapter 15 | Cora

Chapter 15

Cora

“ Y ou could have told me she was your mother!”

Cora followed Cillian through the dark woods that night. Moonlit patches acted as guiding touchstones for her feet through the dark. Cillian led her confidently, as though the lack of light was no trouble at all. She realized that it likely wasn’t and wondered what the world looked like through his eyes.

“Ah, but if I’d told you, you might not have been so beautifully brave. You’d have been too worried about making a poor impression on your mother-in-law. So really, it’s good that I didn’t.”

Cora rolled her eyes. “Insufferable man,” she muttered.

Cillian laughed, ducking under a branch ahead. “It all worked out, didn’t it? You made a fine impression on the elders. Not only are they sending some guardians from Clann Abhaile to help with the English, but you thrashed Elder Bradán so soundly in your little speech that I doubt any of the elders will darken our door for a long while.”

Cora huffed, then squawked as she stumbled on a root. Cillian chuckled as he helped her regain her footing, and she wished she could see well enough to throw something at his back. A pinecone, maybe—nothing damaging, just enough to make her point.

“Can you see as well at night as you can in the day?” she asked.

Cillian glanced back at her, a playful smile on his lips. “Just about. Certainly well enough to see that spider in your hair.”

Cora tore her hand out of his and frantically brushed at her hair. When she found no spider, she glared at Cillian and swatted his arm. “You awful man! I hate spiders!”

Cillian chuckled and brushed the back of his knuckles against her temples. “Ah, lass. Don’t worry—I’ll keep you safe from all the spiders in Ireland.”

“I can manage just fine with a big stick, thanks. I’ve never needed a wolf to kill a spider before.”

“Ah, but you’ve never seen the giant ones deep in the woods, have you?”

Cora’s eyes went wide. “You—you’re lying! Cillian Fane, you tell me this instant that you’re lying!”

Cillian grinned, and Cora decided she liked the way the playfulness made him appear so much younger than he was. He’d always smiled easily with her—especially when saying something that infuriated her—but there was something about this smile. The one he had when they were alone. Something she thought, she hoped, was just for her. At first, she’d ignored it. She hadn’t wanted his warmth because she’d been blinded by her fear. Too sure that the beast was only a breath away from the surface.

“And if I was? What would you do, Madame Fane?”

Cora’s heart skipped a beat whenever he called her by her married name. Though they’d been married several weeks, it was still difficult to see herself as anyone’s wife. They’d shared a tent since the wedding, and of course, there had been the consummation. Cora would never admit just how much that night played through her mind when she crawled into her cot at night. She’d done her best to hide the way the memories heated her skin and caused her heart to race, but she suspected Cillian knew. He’d never pushed her. Never pressed for anything physical past the kisses he would leave on her hand with mocking lips each morning.

She wanted more.

God help her; she wanted her husband. She wanted the Wolf King who’d bedded her that first night when she’d been so stubborn in her refusal to show any sort of enjoyment. She wanted the man who’d brought her pleasure with just his thigh and his words. Wanted his certainty and the way he’d overwhelmed her with his body and his voice.

Cillian’s loud, deep inhale shook Cora from her thoughts and reminded her that she hadn’t answered. Cillian’s stare pinned her in place, and she forgot what he’d asked.

“I—sorry, what?”

He moved closer and took her wrist in his large hand. “Distracted, wife?”

Her pulse thundered in her ears at the rough rumble of his voice. Desire sparked beneath her skin, raising goosebumps on her arms. After the nearly palpable heat between them in the tent earlier, she’d hoped he might—that they might—explore it more.

“Of course, I’m distracted. You’ve dragged me out into the wilderness in the middle of the night, and I can hardly see the nose on my face. Now you’re telling me there might be giant spiders frolicking about! Who wouldn’t be distracted?”

Cillian leaned in suddenly and ran his nose up the sensitive skin of her neck as he took in another breath. “I don’t think spiders are what’s got you smelling so sweet, My Lady. Not unless you’ve been thinking about spiders each night in our tent. Are you sure you’re not thinking of something else?”

Cora bit her lip to hold back the moan that nearly escaped at his touch. When he spoke, his beard scraped against her skin teasingly. She fought against the sudden urge to pull him closer and force him to drag his beard across her breasts. He’d done that on their wedding night before taking her breast in his mouth, and she still remembered the way she’d panted for more.

“I’m not sure what you mean, My Lord. Perhaps your sense of smell isn’t as keen as you think.”

“Cora.”

He so rarely used her given name. She’d almost forgotten how much she liked the sound of it. The way he rolled the ‘r’ of her name sent shivers across her skin, especially when he said it like it was the most holy, most precious word he’d ever spoken. He spoke her name like men spoke prayers to the Almighty, and she held every time he’d said it in her heart.

Cillian pulled back enough to look into her eyes, and before Cora could get the words out to ask why he’d said her name that way, he kissed her. Heat raced through her body like a winter wildfire. If a single spark could set an entire forest alight, Cillian Fane could set her body on fire with a single kiss.

Cora buried her hands in the soft, thick wolf's skin at his shoulders, using it to pull him closer. He responded with a deep groan that vibrated into her chest and left gooseflesh all over her skin.

Closer, closer. Please, God, don’t let go!

She spoke the words in her mind, but Cillian pulled back as though he’d heard them. Cora opened her mouth to protest, but it quickly faded into a moan when Cillian grasped her hips and bit sharply at her throat.

“You must be a witch, Mo Chroí ,” he growled. “How else could you bewitch me so?”

At any other time, she’d have a smart remark about what spell she’d cast on him if she could. But now? With his warm breath and teeth at her neck, and his hands pulling her closer until she could feel the hard length of his cock against her belly? “Cillian—Cillian, please don’t stop.”

Thick fingers wrapped around her braid and tugged her head back. The kisses on her neck grew rougher and sharper until she gasped at a particularly painful bite. “Easy, love, easy,” she coaxed, combing her fingers through his hair. “You’ll break me if you’re not careful.”

Cillian pulled away, his eyes twin flames in the night. “Won’t ever break you, lass. Don’t know that anyone could.”

He sucked in a breath and loosened his grip on her hair. “But you’re right. We should stop—”

Panic doused the heat in her blood like a bucket of icy water. “Wait, no! That’s not what I meant! I only—”

Cillian laid a hand over her lips, silencing her protests with a strained smile. “Peace, wife. I didn’t mean for good. I brought you out here for a purpose, believe it or not, but you’re enough to drive a monk off from his vows.”

Cora wondered why, after all they’d done, it was his words that brought pink to her cheeks. Perhaps it was because Cillian had not shown himself to be a man of many words where she was concerned. To hear that he found her desirable felt like a victory.

“Wh—what did you bring me here for if not—well?” Her blush deepened as she searched for the words to ask the right question.

Cillian grinned in that playful way that caused the throbbing between her legs to start up again. “It’s an ancient tradition among my people. Most would claim that it ought to have happened the night of our wedding, but I didn’t think you—we—were ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?”

“The hunt.”

His words shouldn’t frighten her. She knew him well enough by now to know that he wouldn’t hurt her. So why did those two tiny words send her shivering?

“As luchthonn, we bond with the wolves who have bound their spirits to ours. We share our bodies and our minds with them, and we accept their nature as our own. A wolf is a predator, a hunter, and it is our custom that a new husband proves his worth and skill in a hunt.”

Cora tried to step back, but Cillian’s grip held her in place. Unease soured the desire she’d felt only moments before. “I don’t understand. Do you mean to bring me a rabbit like a barn cat brings a mouse to its master?”

Cillian smiled at her question, but it didn’t ease her nerves. “No, wife. I’ll be hunting something far more precious than a mouse or rabbit tonight.”

The hungry look on his face sent her heart racing. “And... if you catch what you’re hunting?”

His grin widened, baring his teeth. She shivered, remembering how they’d felt at her throat. It should have felt dangerous, but it had been exciting.

“When, Cora—when I catch you, you will know we are both worthy of you.”

Cora opened her mouth to argue about the fairness of such a task but snapped it shut when Cillian loosened his belt and let it fall to the ground. The wolf skin came next, draped carefully over an arm while he removed his shirt. He tugged the skin over his head and bare shoulders, looking for all the world like some sort of dark forest god. The sight of him made her knees weak.

“Cillian, I—I can’t—” She tried to speak but gave up when the thoughts in her head wouldn’t slow enough to form a sentence.

“The first time you witnessed this, I took pity on you.”

His boots came off next, joining the pile of clothing on the forest floor with a dull thud. When his hands went to the ties at his trousers, her mouth went dry. “What do you mean?”

Slowly—too slowly—he tugged at the laces, letting them hang loosely on his hips. “You were trying so hard to be brave. I wasn’t sure how you’d react to the wolf, but I knew the sight of my cock would send you running clear back to your castle.”

Cora found enough nerve to roll her eyes. “Come now, Cillian. Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’re not as ugly as all that.”

His laughter echoed off of the trees, and she reveled in the sound. It was a rough, heavy sound, like the man himself, but she cherished it all the same. Without warning, he pulled her against him and whispered in her ear, “Oh, Little Rabbit, I think I’ll enjoy chasing you down.”

“I am no rabbit, Cillian Fane,” she snapped, catching his ear in her teeth for a sharp bite. “I am your wife.”

Cillian reared back, the shock on his face lasting only a moment before shifting into something far more predatory. “Then run, wife. Run from the wolf!”

He’d no sooner released her than she tore herself away and ran deeper into the woods. She heard the pops and snaps that she remembered from the first night they’d met—the night she’d offered herself to him. Those sounds meant the wolf was coming, and the thought of the enormous beast she’d seen spurred her legs to move faster.

She crashed through the brush, not caring how much noise she made as she went. It would do her no good—the wolf would hear everything. Her only chance to evade him would be to put as much distance as she could between them while he gained his bearings in his animal skin.

A lone, sharp howl shook the surrounding air, and Cora fought the wild, strange urge to howl back. There was nothing to fear from the beast who made that sound. He was her beast, come to find her. She’d been unprepared the first time he’d changed. She hadn’t known such a thing could be possible. Now that she did, there was a wicked sense of pride that such a wild beast could desire her. That he’d found her worthy.

Cora made her way through the dimly lit trees as quickly as she could in her long skirts. The fabric caught on a thorny bush as she ran by. She tore the fabric free without a care for how she’d mend it later. She fought to get as far as possible before he caught up, hopping small logs and splashing through puddles.

Before long—only minutes, in truth—she heard the hard thud of enormous paws against the ground behind her. Fear raced through her veins like sparks of lightning, pushing her even faster. A low branch scraped her cheek, but she didn’t stop to wipe the blood away, too focused on getting away.

She heard his breath as he ran behind her. The rhythm of his footfalls told her he was running on all fours. He’d mentioned before that he moved faster that way but couldn’t maneuver as easily as he could on two legs—something about the lengths of his limbs. She couldn’t remember exactly, but she hoped she remembered right as she veered to her left. He snarled from somewhere behind her, and there was a crash that suggested she’d been correct. She allowed herself a small, victorious smile but otherwise kept her focus on the ground ahead of her.

Her success was short-lived. Within moments, his pounding footfalls were behind her again. He came up along her left side, and she realized he was trying to force her to change direction again. In the dim moonlight, she couldn’t see him, and she nearly tripped when she felt the brush of a large, furry body against her skirt.

She allowed him to herd her to the right, noticing the way the night grew bright up ahead.

A clearing—he was leading her out of the woods.

Excitement sparked beneath her skin as she watched the tree line come closer with every step. He would catch her—as if there had been any doubt—but he would finish the hunt out in the open, where they could see each other.

Cora gasped as she broke through trees as though she’d been underwater and could finally draw breath. The thrill of being hunted by her beast filled her heart until it had to escape somehow. She gave into the urge that had taken her in the woods, threw her head back, and howled to the moon as she ran across the moonlit clearing. If anyone had been around to see her, she might have been too ashamed to give into such a strange impulse. But there was no one save her husband and the moon to witness her insanity. For the first time in her life, she felt free.

When she lowered her chin, he was in front of her. She threw her arms up in self-defense as she tried to slow down and skidded to a stop just before crashing into his colossal frame. Cora stared up into the icy blue eyes of the wolf. He’d run on four legs, but now that he’d caught her, he lifted himself onto two.

For a single moment, she considered giving up. He’d caught up to her, after all. But then she caught sight of a large stick lying in the grass. Impulsively, she grabbed it and raised it above her head.

“Well, come on then! Did you think I’d give up that easily? I keep telling you I’m not a fucking rabbit!”

The wolf reared back, teeth bared and ears flattened. His growl was a warning, but Cora knew she was in no danger. Wild or not, he wouldn’t hurt her.

Well, if she landed a hit with the big stick, he might. Some risks were worth the potential outcome. If she managed a shot before he tore the stick—and possibly her innards—away, she’d consider herself successful.

The wolf hesitated, his ears twitching as though he couldn’t make sense of her.

“You coming or not, you overgrown throw rug? I’m ready for you. You said you wanted a hunt? Well, this prey’s fighting back!”

The wolf snarled and advanced. He lunged for her, and Cora wondered if she’d made a mistake but swung with all her might anyway. If she died, at least they could say she went out with a weapon in her hand.

The dull thud and low growl were the only clues that she’d connected. Against all logic, she’d decided that swinging with her eyes closed was the very best way to face the monster she’d challenged. If she survived the night, it’d be a miracle from God himself.

She opened one eye in time to see the wolf shaking his head and pawing at his muzzle. The surprised laughter escaped her mouth before she could think better of it. Pride warmed her body, and she couldn’t help the smug tone of her voice when she called, “Who’s the predator now, husband?”

Her pride disappeared the instant that the wolf lifted his head, blue eyes aflame and sharp teeth bared. The growl that echoed from his chest turned her legs to useless jelly, and fear quickly replaced any self-confidence she might have had. The wolf advanced, hackles raised. Cora dropped the branch, afraid that she might have gone too far. She realized she’d never asked how far the bond between Cillian and his wolf went. What if she’d just angered a feral beast? What if the man had no say in what the wolf did with its teeth and claws?

She backed away slowly, hands outstretched. “Cillian—Cillian, can you hear me? I didn’t mean—I wasn’t trying to hurt you! I thought it was a game! Please, Cillian, that’s enough!”

Cora tripped on her own skirt and went sprawling to the ground with a frightened screech. In that instant, he was there, a snarl echoing in the quiet night as he covered her body with his own. She lay still, afraid that any sudden movements would be her last. This close, his low growls sent vibrations through her skin until she wasn’t sure how much was him and how much was her own frightened shivering.

She squeezed her eyes shut, unwilling to look into his eyes if he struck. “Cillian, I’m sorry. Please, please don’t do this.”

Suddenly, a warm, wet tongue slid up her cheek. Her surprised shriek sent a flock of nearby sleeping birds into the air. He licked her over and over, his tongue bathing her face, her shoulders, and even her hair.

Relief flooded her veins, so overwhelming that tears slid down her cheek. The wolf huffed and licked the tears away before returning to her impromptu bath.

“Cillian! That’s enough, now!” she said, her tone half reproach and half nervous laughter. “You great beast! I’ll smell like a dog all night!”

The wolf pulled back and sat on its haunches. If wolves could look smug, she’d swear this one did. Perhaps it was the man in him. “Oh, that’s fine then, isn’t it? Scare your poor wife half to death, why don’t you? I thought you were going to eat me!”

Before that moment, she’d never have believed that a wolf could smirk. Slowly, she got to her feet, brushed the dirt and debris off of her dress, and approached him. “Now, you sit there like a good dog, eh? Any more of that foolishness, and I’ll find a bigger stick!” She lifted a hand to show her intent, watching for any sign that her touch wouldn’t be welcome, but the wolf remained seated and calm.

Carefully, she reached up and buried her fingers into the thick fur near his scruff.

“Oh... it’s so soft! I wasn’t—well, I don’t know what I expected. Good to know we can actually make a decent rug out of you if you misbehave too much.”

The wolf huffed again and bumped her shoulder with his enormous head. The last time she’d seen Cillian in this form, she’d been too afraid—too shocked—to really appreciate the beauty of it. His jaws might be large enough to fit around her head, but the white and gray fur around his muzzle was soft. His eyes were the same icy blue that they always were, but somehow, they were brighter despite the dim moonlight. Thick, dark fur fell like his own long hair around his shoulders, and she gave in to the impulse to run her fingers through the strands.

He was nothing short of magnificent. There was enough of a human shape to his chest and limbs that he seemed familiar, but no one would ever mistake him for anything but a wild beast.

“It was a good hunt,” she whispered, rubbing her cheek against the soft fur near his ears. “If I must be chased, I’d like it to always be you.”

The fur she’d nuzzled quivered against her cheek for a moment, then fell away. It was a strange sensation, and Cora jerked back in time to see the wolf’s face become her husband’s again. He tugged the wolf skin off of his head, letting it fall to the ground at their feet.

“Oh, I’ll chase you, Mo Chroí . Till death comes for me, I’ll chase you.”

Strong arms circled her, pulling her close. The excitement of the chase still buzzed under her skin, making her reckless and impatient. On their wedding night, she’d had the many rules of her world echoing in her mind. She’d been afraid to enjoy herself because she’d been told all her life that a wife ought to be coy and obedient in the bedroom. Husbands didn’t appreciate a greedy wife or one who’d seek her own pleasure. They’d call her difficult at best, wanton at worst.

Whoever had come up with those rules had never met her husband. Her wolf had shown his worth in the hunt, and she intended to enjoy being caught and devoured.