Chapter 22 | Cillian

Chapter 22

Cillian

C illian faced the English king, not bothering to hide his nakedness. Sure, he could use his wolf’s skin as a sort of kilt, but he wouldn’t. He’d seen Eoin’s body to the side, along with his beheaded wolf’s skin. Somehow, this pale, dodgy bastard knew enough about the luchthonn to kill them. Cillian’s wolf’s skin wouldn’t go anywhere but on his head, and if those guards of his moved a toe out of line, he’d have his fangs in their throats before they could blink.

Besides, if he threw the king’s delicate sensibilities off by the sight of his balls, all the better. If he’d thought it’d do any good, he’d have danced a jig and bounced them about a bit—anything to keep the attention on him and off of that knife at his mate’s neck.

“Ah, see? I knew you could see reason. Some of my advisors warned me that the luchthonn were too feral to deal with, but I had a feeling about you. After all, a man doesn’t earn your reputation by accident.”

Cillian sneered. “Did you come all this way to whisper sweet nothings in my ear? Sorry to tell you, lad, but I’m already mated.”

“I suppose the vulgarity is to be expected from an animal like you. Very well, let’s waste no time. I’d like to propose an alliance between the luchthonn and the English crown.”

Of all the things he’d expected to come out of Edwin’s mouth, an offer of alliance was last on a very long list.

“Oh, have you now? And just why would I ally with the bastard cunt who attacks my home and threatens my mate?”

Edwin scoffed, “Please, let’s not exaggerate. The only reason you’re here is because of your marriage to Lady Kilkenny—excuse me, Lady Fane. You’ve no actual obligation to these lands. And as far as threatening your... mate, let’s assume that as long as everyone remains calm, she’s in no danger at all. I only needed to make sure I had your attention.”

Cillian scrutinized the English king. He’d always thought kings to be fat and stupid—too drunk on their own power to see past their powdered noses. They didn’t go into battle for fear of scuffing their fine slippers. Instead, they moved their pawns around their little maps as though men’s lives were worth less than the wooden figurines.

This one, though. Edwin had clearly planned this meeting carefully. He’d learned about them and found an ally in one of their own. Eoin’s bloody form and tattered wolf’s skin screamed of betrayal. To be cut off from one’s wolf was agony, and his death would have been torturous.

Good. Traitors deserved no less.

“Let’s say I agree with you. What exactly do you want from me in this... alliance , and what have you to offer in return?”

Edwin smiled, his eyes lighting at Cillian’s apparent interest. “Your part is simple. Your wolf-men are capable warriors. They’re twice the size of a soldier and three times as strong. Help me complete my conquest of Ireland, and I’ll give you all you sought from Kilkenny and more. You want land for your people? It’s yours. In fact, take Ossory and this castle for your own if you’d like.”

Cillian pretended to consider the offer, schooling his features into an expression of interest. “A castle, you say? And only slightly damaged from your attack? How kind of you to offer.”

“Consider it only the beginning of an investment. Once Ireland is mine, I’ll need someone to keep the local rabble in line. I would be inclined to reward such a man handsomely.”

As they went back and forth, Cillian surreptitiously watched his wife. The more Edwin talked, the looser his grip on Cora became. He watched her eye Edwin’s arm before glancing up to be sure the king’s attention was still solely on him. Her hand twitched on her skirt, then slowly began moving back toward her pocket.

Cillian paced a few steps, his gait casual and relaxed. “I see. Let me see if I’ve heard you right. You’ll give me land, coin, and all the little rabbits a wolf could chase, and all I’ve got to do is off a few fat lords?”

He glanced at Cora again. This time, she caught his eye. First, she glanced down at Edwin’s arm; then, she bared her teeth. Immediately, he understood her plan.

Edwin’s smile grew. “That is the gist of it, yes. And who knows? Serve me well here, and I may have other lands that need your particular brand of war.”

Cillian stopped in front of Edwin. He crossed his arms and nodded as though considering the offer. The king’s grip loosened even more. With the guards’ attention still glued to the other luchthonn, Cora slipped her hand into her pocket and gave a tiny nod.

“Well, you’ve given me much to think on, haven’t you? Quite a lot to... sink my teeth into.”

Cora burst into action, burying her teeth in Edwin’s arm. He shouted in surprise, yanking his arm away from her bite—and her neck. As soon as the blade was away from her throat, Cora pulled a small dagger from her pocket and slashed at the arm around her middle. Edwin bellowed, instinct pulling him away from the source of pain.

Chaos erupted. The luchthonn lept at the guards, knocking their blades aside with a single blow and tackling them to the ground. They’d be dead in moments.

Cillian lunged toward Edwin, who still somehow had a hold on Cora’s arm. “Dirty bitch!” the king cried. He raised his dagger and shook Cora violently.

Time slowed. Cillian felt the change sweep over him as he watched Cora swing her arm up just as the English king swung down. His shout became a howl of outrage as the wolf took over. All he could see was the blade careening toward his mate.

Before it reached her, Edwin jerked, wide-eyed. His blade glanced off of Cora’s arm as he flailed, gasping for breath. Cillian slammed into him, knocking Edwin to the ground. As he loomed over the English king, he saw what had caused the man to miss.

There, buried between his ribs, was Cora’s dagger.

Cillian growled, his bared teeth inches away from Edwin’s face. The formerly confident king cowered as he desperately tried to back away from the giant wolf. Cillian pressed one heavy paw into the man’s gut, pinning him in place.

All around him, the sounds of dying men and angry snarls echoed through the large hall. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air, and the wolf salivated at the thought of Edwin’s blood filling his mouth as he tore the man to pieces.

A small hand on his back stopped him just before he lunged for Edwin’s throat. Cora ran her fingers through his fur, stroking his head as she glared down at the fallen king.

Her voice was as cold and merciless as a winter storm. “These are our lands, Edwin of England. We will never surrender them to you or anyone else. Let your death be a lesson to those who might follow in your footsteps.”

Cillian struck, closing his teeth around the king’s neck before he could gasp a response. Blood flowed and bones snapped as he crushed Edwin’s throat between his jaws. The king gargled desperately, blood dribbling from his mouth. With a single twist, Cillian ripped Edwin’s head from his shoulders and sent it rolling across the floor.

Within minutes, every one of the English soldiers was dead, their bodies ripped to shreds by the angry luchthonn. When the last drew his final breath, Cillian turned to his mate. Blood and grime streaked her dress and skin. The cut from Edwin’s dagger at her throat still bled, its droplets staining the collar of her dress.

He growled, glaring at her injuries as though he could frighten them away. Once, she’d been frightened of this form. Now she ran to him and locked her arms around his neck.

“I’m all right, my love,” she said, her face buried in his fur. “It’s all right now.”

Distressed by his mate’s blood, the wolf whined and licked at her face. She smiled—that soft smile he treasured above all else. He’d come so close to losing her. Too close. One slip of that bloody dagger and she’d have been lost to him forever.

In a breath, he was a man again. Cillian gathered her in his arms, rocking with her on the ground.

“Ah, lass,” he breathed, “You are a wonder.”

Cora grinned, the blood on her face giving her a decidedly feral appearance. Cillian tried to wipe it away as best he could but only smeared it around. He smiled and kissed her nose.

“I knew you’d come,” she said. “No matter what, I knew you would come for me.”

After the terror he’d felt seeing a dagger at her throat, her kiss was the sweetest thing he’d ever known. “I’ll always come for you, Mo ghrá . You have my love and my heart. How could I ever leave you alone?”

Tears gathered in Cora’s eyes, though she tried to hide them by burying her face in his neck. “You have my love as well, husband. But perhaps, next time, if you could show up for your grand rescue a few minutes earlier?”

Cillian chuckled and kissed her once more. “And ruin the chance for all that lovely banter? Perish the thought, woman. Besides, t’was my cock that had him distracted enough for you to sink those little teeth in. I’d say my timing was spot on.”

Cora smiled and rolled her eyes. She looked around the room, her smile falling as she took in the bloody remains of the English. Her eyes narrowed on Eoin’s body. “You know he helped them?” she asked.

Cillian nodded. “Aye, I suspected as much. He went missing during our little scrap and ended up in a bloody heap on the floor here. Doesn’t take a genius to put those pieces together.”

She stared a moment longer, then jolted in his arms. “Cillian! The courtyard! What about the English? They’d breached the gate and—”

“Whoa, lass,” he urged. “Calm yourself. Your father’s men did him proud. They were holding their own well enough when we returned, and I left most of the wolves behind to help even the odds. The battle will be well over by now.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You mean... we won?”

Cillian grinned. “Well, considering the English haven’t shot our arses full of arrows, I’d say the chances are high.”

Cora scrambled to her feet. “Come on! They might need help!”