Chapter 5 | Cillian

Chapter 5

Cillian

T he girl crumpled against Cathall, the tension and terror still present on her face even in oblivion.

Good. Cillian expected that when she woke, she’d have learned a thing or two about the ‘wolf stories’ she’d been so quick to dismiss. He’d always found a good dose of fear set most men straight. She would be no different.

Still, he’d found her fear of his change bitter and distasteful. His beast hadn’t enjoyed it either, which was strange. The feral thing lived for the hunt, and the tang of sweat and pheromones was part of the thrill. Prey was always afraid, and it made the chase that much sweeter.

This girl, though—Lady Cora of the Ossory Kilkenny’s—wasn’t prey. At least, not in the way he’d expected. He’d meant to frighten her, certainly. She’d barged into his tent without invitation, as fiery and wild as the hair that ran down her back. Most fine ladies he’d seen—granted, there hadn’t been many—kept their hair hidden away. This one tried to keep hers contained in a thick plait down her back, but pieces escaped. The total effect made her seem much less of a proper lady but, at the same time, more real.

Cathall hefted her into his arms to keep her from falling to the ground. Cillian’s snarl surprised them both. The beast within understood little about humans, but he recognized that the small, bold female had offered herself as a mate. In the beast’s mind, that meant she was his already. What did he care about human tradition or ceremony? She’d shown bravery by coming here, and she was lovely—both traits the beast held in regard. That was enough. After all, he had no mate. Why shouldn’t he have her? In his opinion, the man had waited far past a proper age to take a mate. If one practically fell at his feet, and such a pleasing one at that, he ought to take her before another could.

Cillian himself wasn’t so easy to convince, but the wolf was stronger while he wore its skin. A powerful bond existed between a luchthonn and his beast. From the first time the man underwent the change, they were connected. It was a balance as old as the luchthonn themselves. Two halves that existed as a whole.

Once in the wolf’s skin, Cillian’s suspicions and human concerns faded into the background. The man meant to frighten her—teach her a bit of respect, perhaps. The wolf was curious about her. If she hadn’t run from him, he might only have approached her for an inquisitive sniff. But she had run, and her fear, distasteful as he found it, triggered the instinct to hunt.

Now, with her tucked in another male’s arms, man and wolf warred for control. The wolf insisted that their second ought to have left their female alone. Let her lie on the ground where he could curl around her and protect her until she woke. He would show her he was no threat to her. That his claws, teeth, and powerful body would make him a suitable mate.

Cillian resisted on principle, despite the way this form muted his thoughts and desires. The wolf’s desires were obvious, but the man needed time. He had no need for a wife - had avoided them, in fact, for years. A wife—a noble wife at that—was a complication. One that he needed like an arrow to the head. The lass was beautiful, certainly, but that was only skin deep. She might be a right hag, or she might use him for her ends while contemplating his murder when the task was complete.

That being said, there was wisdom in what she’d said, damn her. His men were powerful, and his reputation reached all throughout the Irish territory. In the past, some luchthonn had protected the kings and their lands, but most had severed those ties after years of exploitation and broken promises. Cillian had made a name for himself as a mercenary of sorts, but he knew that many who called him the Wolf King saw him as little better than a common criminal. A marriage into the nobility would offer his people stability and legitimacy. It would allow him a chance to negotiate in ways that no luchthonn ever had. A marriage to Cora Kilkenny would make him less of a myth and more of a man.

Cillian considered all of this as he watched Cathall carry the limp woman to his tent. He pictured what might happen if he were to be standing at her bedside—well, his bedside—when her eyes finally opened. Would she shrink away in fear?

He followed the pair inside. Once safe in his tent, Cillian shed his wolf’s skin. As gruesome as it would have seemed to her, it was as natural as breathing for him, and he wanted to wait as a man for her to wake. Back in his own skin and master of his own mind, Cillian frowned ruefully at the tattered leathers at his feet. Any other time, he’d have simply removed them before the change. The men of his camp thought nothing of seeing a man’s cock or arse before the change. But a sheltered noblewoman? The lass might have fallen over dead.

Cillian looked up in time to see Cathall lower the woman onto his bed-roll.

“Was it wise to show her so much, so fast?”

Cathall’s question wasn’t insolent or unwarranted, but it still irritated Cillian. “You’d have preferred I tossed her out on her arse, I suppose?”

Cathall straightened, glancing down at the unconscious woman. “There a reason you didn’t? I’ve known you since we were both nippin’ at our fathers’ heels, Cillian. I’ve never known you to suffer anyone barging into your den unannounced, woman or man. And what she offered—it’s ridiculous! You could have just sent her back to her father without showing her what you are. If she runs home, sobbing about the terrible beasties...”

Cillian chuckled. “You talk as though the whole county will descend with torches and pitchforks, brother. You forget—the lords that buy our allegiance know enough of the truth to squash any fool stable hand who might try to raise the rabble against the ‘heathen wolves.’ Even if she told anyone what she saw, they’d dismiss her as a flighty, frightened female easily tricked by smoke and shadows. Nothing more.”

Cathall frowned and crossed his arms. “Then why show her? It makes no sense, Cillian. You’re right, most wouldn’t believe her. But it was still a risk—an unnecessary one. So I ask again, as your pack brother and your second, what were you thinking?”

He’d been thinking that he wanted to see how far her bold facade would go. Despite her brazen entrance, the woman had reeked of fear. He’d wanted to know if that bravery would crumble when faced with a monster.

Cathall would say those were all terrible reasons, and he wouldn’t be wrong. If one of his men had revealed his gift for such petty reasons, he’d have bloodied him well.

Cillian grasped at the first excuse that came to mind. “I suspected she might be a witch. I meant to frighten her into revealing her power.”

Cathall raised an eyebrow. “A... witch. And what about her gave you that impression?”

“Ever known a lord’s daughter to show up in our camp with no entourage? No guards? Not even a fucking note? What kind of woman marches in the way she did, making the claims she made, with no proof of what she says?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me a witch. And you think she came here to—what—trap you into a marriage for some sort of awful ritual or some other rot? I don’t suppose you’ve fallen off that great beast of a horse recently, have you?”

Cillian bristled at Cathall’s tone and stared him down until he looked away. “Watch your tongue, pup.”

Cathall rolled his eyes. “I’m as much a pup as you, Cillian. You might be the alpha wolf, but we’re brothers. I trust you with my life, and I’ve never known you to take a risk like this. Just tell me you have a plan, and I’ll let it go.”

“I do. When she wakes, we’ll deliver the lass and the good news to Fergus himself.”

“You mean to accept her offer, then? To marry her? You can’t be serious! What’ll the other clans think—the elders? You’re an alpha, Cillian, not just some bastard runt! You’re meant to pick a mate from one of the other clans, not some spoiled dall noblewoman.”

Cillian growled in warning. Dall , or blind, was the luchthonn term for those not of magic blood. Humans rarely accepted the existence of magical creatures, and those who did were often mistrustful and cruel. Many of their brethren had died at a stake or been run through on a pike after being accused of witchcraft. Because of this, those of magic blood had taken to calling humans blind for their inability to see the world as it truly was.

It bothered Cillian to hear Lady Kilkenny referred to as a dall . She was a foolish woman, yes, but not blind. She understood the dangers that her people faced, and she’d come to him with eyes wide open in order to save them.

“Don’t call her that. And if I’m so bloody important, it shouldn’t be a problem for me to do as I like, should it? Let the clans talk—I’ll bring them all to heel if needs be. I’ve told you I have a plan. Now, let that be the end of it.”

Cathall’s expression implied he had more to say, but out of respect for their positions, he lowered his eyes and nodded.

“What happens if you’re wrong about this deal? If she did this without Lord Kilkenny’s blessing, what makes you think he’ll honor it?”

Cillian glanced down at the woman still asleep on his bed. The beginnings of a plan formed in his mind, and he smiled at the possibilities ahead. “Oh, I think he’ll honor it. A bargain is a bargain, after all.”