Chapter 9 | Cillian

Chapter 9

Cillian

C illian held his new bride in place as his stallion, Crow, carried them deeper into the woods. Crow needed little direction from him; the spoiled beast always knew the fastest way to get back to his food and bed. The full moon was barely visible through the trees, but that didn’t matter to Cillian. Even in the dark, a luchthonn could see the path ahead of him. As a wolf, he could see as well as he could in daylight, but his human vision was still better than what he’d been told was normal.

He tried to ignore the way the woman in his arms trembled. She’d put on a brave face for the ceremony, but he’d noticed how pale she was, and her expression had stayed so consistently placid that it had to be purposeful. She played the part of the quiet, submissive bride well.

He knew better. He’d seen the fire that burned below her skin when she’d marched into his tent, bold as brass, and demanded that he marry her and protect her people. His bride was no meek lamb, but she’d changed as soon as he’d shown her the wolf. It was to be expected, he knew. There was a reason that most luchthonn hid their wolf form except in battle. Most outside of their clans believed the luchthonn to be demons or the result of some witch’s spell. Those that knew the truth were usually too afraid or too desperate for their help to tell the secret. Oh, the rumors ran wild, of course. There was more than one reason he was known as the Wolf King in the surrounding counties, and everyone had their own beliefs about him and his men.

It shouldn’t have mattered that she was afraid. It was understandable. Smart, even. People often were afraid when forced to accept the existence of creatures like him. But still... perhaps it was foolishness on his part, but a man didn’t go into his own wedding night hoping for a frightened bride. If he’d done what was expected and married a woman from one of the other clans, he’d be hunting her tonight. There was no way to ask Lady Cora Kilkenny—Cora Fane, he reminded himself—to let him hunt her through the woods. She’d run off and never come back.

His wolf mourned the hunt. It had thrilled the beast to bond with the lovely female, but he didn’t understand why she feared them. In his mind, if she would allow them to hunt her, she would see how worthy they were as mates. He didn’t understand human fears and thoughts, and Cillian had no way to explain. They didn’t communicate in words so much as feelings and ideas, and Cillian tried to make the wolf understand why it wouldn’t be right to hunt his bride. A luchthonn bride reveled in the wedding hunt. She led her new mate on a grand chase. At the end, both bride and groom would fall into a happy heap somewhere in the woods and fuck till their eyes crossed.

The idea of laying out the woman in his arms in a bed of tall grass sent a hot bolt of desire through his body. The ride through the woods had already driven him half mad with the way her arse rocked back against his cock. It wasn’t her fault, and sure as hell, he didn’t think she did it on purpose. Somehow, that made it better... or perhaps worse. He couldn’t decide. All he knew was that the way her body moved against his was the sweetest sort of torture he’d ever endured.

Cillian wondered if she’d thought about their wedding night before offering herself so brazenly to him. He imagined not—she seemed the sheltered type. Most highborn women were, and he’d never had any interest in educating them. Cora Kilkenny wasn’t the first woman to be offered to him in exchange for services—though she was the first to offer herself. He was approached by several lords who believed they could change his mind by offering their daughter or wife for a roll in the hay, but he always said no. Human women held little interest for him, and his wolf found them uninteresting at best and repulsive at worst.

Which made his reaction to his bride even more surprising. From the moment she’d marched into his tent, skirts swishing and a mouth sharper than his claws, both he and the wolf had taken an unusual interest in her. As soon as his surprise at her entrance had faded, he’d been struck with the image of bending her over his war table, maps and missives all sent flying to the floor. He’d imagined wrapping her thick, dark braid around his fist and guiding her smart mouth to his cock. It wouldn’t be easy to fuck the fire out of a woman like her, but he found himself eager to try.

He tried to imagine what she would be like. Would she be shy? Angry? Would she fight him? He hoped she wouldn’t cry. She’d fainted when she’d seen him change, and she’d been fairly subdued since then. Would she lie there like a dead fish, hoping that he’d finish faster? Cillian grit his teeth at the thought of blank stares and listless limbs.

No.

She might not be thrilled about their marriage—in fact, he was sure she wasn’t. Despite the moon priest’s enthusiasm, she’d faced her own wedding with all the excitement of a prisoner sent to an executioner’s block. And she likely had her own ideas of how the night would go, but he’d be damned if his first taste of her would be marred by some misplaced sense of martyrdom.

Light flickered in the distance, and Crow picked up his pace. Cillian tightened his grip on his bride—on Cora—and pulled her back against his chest. Cora no longer trembled in his arms, but he didn’t miss the way her heart pounded like a drum, the beats so strong that he could almost feel them spread through his body like ripples in a pond.

They’d ridden in silence the whole way, but when they passed the two night guards at the makeshift gate, Cillian couldn’t resist the urge to lean in and murmur, “Welcome home, Madame Fane,” into Cora’s ear.

She didn’t reply, only glanced up at him with wide eyes. Several of his men waved and called out greetings and congratulations, and several threw their heads back in a howl. Cillian chuckled and shook his head at their enthusiasm. Even by his people’s standards, he’d waited a long time to take a wife. As strange or unorthodox as they might find the match, his men seemed happy that he’d bonded. Even those who were not luchthonn understood enough about them to know that a wolf would always be better with a pack—with a mate.

Cillian led Crow to his tent and dismounted easily once they arrived. He reached up to help Cora, but she favored him with a baleful stare before sliding down, landing on the ground with a soft thud. Cillian shook his head at her willfulness and wondered what she’d do if he growled at her as he would have any of his men who’d dared to be so needlessly defiant. He hoped she wouldn’t faint again.

One of their young men, a sturdy lad by the name of Corcc, ambled up and bent his head in respect. He offered to take Crow to the stables, and after a moment’s consideration, Cillian agreed. Usually, he’d tend his own horse, but tonight there were more important things than Crow’s never-ending appetite.

Cora stiffened when he nudged her toward the tent, but he didn’t remove his hand. If he had his way, he’d be touching her far more intimately soon. The faster she became used to his hands on her body, the better.

Cora eyed his bed roll as though it might attack her. She wrapped her arms around herself and looked at him warily. “Where am I meant to sleep?”

He wondered if she thought there was another option. “In my bed,” he replied, nodding toward the pile of furs and blankets.

“Oh.”

Her cheeks darkened, and a desire to lick her struck him hard. He wondered if she was as warm and soft as she appeared. The wolf agreed, insisting that the faster they had their mate underneath them, the happier she—and they—would be. Wolves were stubborn when they’d set their minds on their prey, and this woman had caught the wolf’s interest like no one else ever had. Given the chance, the beast would have him lick her from head to toe to catalog every sweet inch of her skin.

Cillian ran his tongue over his teeth and shook the urge away. Cora looked ready to bolt as it was. It wasn’t likely that she’d look at him dragging his tongue across her cheek with favor.

She looked around the tent, her emotions shifting on her face. Hesitation, a bit of fear, and then resolve. Just as she had at their wedding, Cora pulled her shoulders back and faced him as though he were the devil himself. She settled her back against the large table he’d dubbed his ‘war table,’ as though its sturdy legs would hold her up.

Her attitude bothered him more than he wanted. It wasn’t as though they were a love match—hell, the last woman he’d claimed any sort of loving feelings toward had been his mam. Still, that didn’t mean he wanted his bride to fear him on their wedding night.

He wanted to make her burn, to show her he could be more than the beast she expected. To show himself that she was just a woman—that fucking her wouldn’t be the life-changing experience he feared it might be.

“Have you ever been with a man?” he asked.

Cora started, accidentally knocking a cup off of the table she’d leaned against. “I—of course not!” She narrowed her eyes and asked, “And you? Have you been with a woman?”

Bollocks. His first instinct was to lie. A new wife likely wouldn’t want to hear that her groom had known pleasure before her. Still, it wasn’t his habit to avoid the truth. So he nodded and said, “Aye, I’ve enjoyed a woman’s company a time or two.”

Cora looked away, and Cillian noticed the way her fist clenched at her side. “Of course. And is it your intent to continue ‘enjoying company’ now that we’ve wed?”

A bold question, though he shouldn’t have been surprised. It was commonplace for a nobleman to have a woman or two in nearby villages even after he’d married, but that was the way of human men. Apparently, their wives just accepted it as a part of life. A luchthonn woman would tear her mate’s skin from his body if he attempted such disrespect, and from what he’d seen of his new wife, she had more than a little wolf in her despite being human.

“Of course not. Now that we’re bonded, you will be the only one I take to my bed.”

If she was surprised by his answer, she didn’t show it. She simply nodded and gestured toward the bed roll. “Well, we’d best get on with it, then.”

Cillian couldn’t help the laugh that rumbled from his chest. “Come now, wife. Surely it won’t be so bad as all that. Am I so terrible to look on that you’d face your wedding night like the bloody gallows?”

He approached her slowly, eyes trained on her for any sign of plans to flee. He half hoped she would. It wouldn’t be a true hunt, but the idea of chasing this beautiful creature down in his wolf skin caused his cock to harden further. She didn’t run, however. She faced him with all the bravery and defiant fear he’d come to expect from her.

Cillian brushed the back of one hand down her cheek, stopping to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her hair. “It doesn’t have to be terrible, lass. In fact, I’d wager my skin that it might be quite enjoyable.”

Cora forgot her nerves long enough to snort and roll her eyes. “All men think so highly of themselves in bed, don’t they? I know my duties, husband,” she said, emphasizing his name as though it was bitter in her mouth. “No need to blow sunshine up my skirts in that regard.”

Cillian grinned and pressed against her, forcing her up against the table. “Oh, I’ll be seeing to those skirts soon enough.” He leaned in, murmuring, “Other men might be content to bed an unwilling woman, but I’d just as soon have my mate panting beneath me, begging for my mouth or my cock.”

Cora’s cheeks darkened even further, the delicious pink color spreading down her neck. She shot fiery arrows with her eyes, but her voice shook when she spoke. “I don’t beg.”

No, she’d probably never begged for anything in her life. She was too proud, his stubborn wife. “Ah well, we all must have goals in life, mustn’t we?”

Despite her having the welcoming nature of a feral cat, Cillian couldn’t resist leaning in further and running his nose up her neck. His cheek brushed hers, and he didn’t miss the way she gasped softly at the touch. “I’m going to kiss you now, wife. Are you ready?”

Another man wouldn’t have bothered to warn her. Hell, part of him would have liked to see how she reacted if he’d surprised her. She’d be all claws and teeth about it, he just knew it, and the part of him closest to his wolf was more than excited by the idea. But a larger part of him—the strategist, the commander —wanted to know how she’d react as an informed opponent. Would she fight him? Surrender?

She did neither. She stared him down as though daring him to follow through. As though she could handle whatever he gave her and still come out her imperious, stubborn self.

He’d just see about that.

Their first kiss felt more like the opening moves of a battle than romance. Strike, parry, counter-strike—every slide of her lips against his was an act of war. His blood raced beneath his skin, and the wolf howled his approval. Heat spread down his limbs as he licked at her lips, breaching her first line of defense.

Her taste—gods, her taste was indescribable. He groaned into her mouth, tangling their tongues as he buried his fingers in her hair. Thank all the old gods that he’d insisted she wear her hair down that night. Instead of fighting with her braids, he twisted his fingers into the soft strands and held her close. The unexpected image of wrapping the curly, silky locks around his cock as she stroked him caused his cock to jerk in his trousers. Suddenly, his clothes all felt too tight.

“Lass,” he murmured between kisses, “want to feel you. Touch you.”

Cora pulled away, her eyes decidedly less fiery than they had been only minutes before, her lips plump from his kisses. Her flushed cheeks and panting breaths tempted him like a starved man before a feast. Cillian dove at her neck, licking and sucking at her sensitive skin until she writhed against him. His cock throbbed with every sound that escaped her lips. He knew she was trying to stop them, could feel the way she clutched at his arms and bit her plump, kiss-swollen lip. It made the moans and gasps he tore from her mouth all the sweeter. She wanted him despite the walls she’d tried to erect between them, and he’d be damned if he wouldn’t pull the truth from her.

She ought to have known better. A wolf with the scent of his prey would never stop. Never give up. Cora was his prey. If he could not hunt her in the night air as he’d like, he would chase her pleasure until he had nothing but her taste in his mouth and the sounds of her pleasured screams in his ears.

“Too hot,” she said, her voice a breathless gasp. “Why is it so hot?”

Cillian nipped at the base of her throat; his hands tugged at the laces of her dress. “Means you’ve got too much on. Let me see you, love.”

With the laces loosened, her dress pooled at the front, giving him a mouthwatering view of her barely covered breasts. Before she could try to cover herself, Cillian abandoned her throat to nuzzle his face against the tops. He tugged at the dress, baring her pale, luscious skin to the cool night air. Their height difference made it difficult to explore her properly while they both stood, so Cillian hauled her up on the table and knelt between her legs.

“What—? What do you think you’re—oh!”

Cillian smirked against her breast. He pulled her soft, rosy nipple into his mouth and teased it with his tongue and teeth while she moaned above him. He drug his beard across her breasts, drawing in deep lungfuls of her sweet scent as he went. It was enough to drive a man mad, the way she smelled. He’d never had such a powerful reaction to a woman’s scent before. It bothered him—or it would if he wasn’t so fucking distracted.

Even as he feasted on her breasts, covering them in reddened patches where his beard scraped and marks from his teeth, he allowed his hands to roam further down. Cora shuddered when he swept his hands over her hips and pushed the dress to the floor. She stood before him in nothing but her skin, fingers twitching as though she wanted to cover herself. She even made to shield her pussy from his view with a hand, but he pushed it away and pulled her lips down to his. His bite was sharp on her lip, but he soothed it with his tongue. “Don’t hide from me, Muirnīn ,” he growled between kisses. “You made this bargain... offered yourself to me.”

Cora squealed when he pinched a nipple between his fingers and protested, “I didn’t offer this! I gave you a marriage, not—not this!”

Cillian reared back, incredulous. Cora’s glare was back, somewhat lessened by the dark flush in her cheeks and the red marks all over her breasts. She wanted him—what he’d done. He could smell just how much she wanted it, and he was half tempted to tip her back, toss her legs over his shoulders, and feast on her pussy until she changed her song.

“And did you expect us to live as nuns in this marriage?”

Cora looked away, crossing her arms over her breasts with a scowl. “No, I—I didn’t think... I didn’t think you’d desire me in that way. We are practically strangers, after all.”

Cillian resisted the urge to move her arms himself, as well as the frustrated snarl that threatened to escape. He’d worked too hard up to that point—wouldn’t do to scare the lass now. “Aye, but not the first strangers in the world to wed, and certainly not blind.”

“I don’t understand.” Her hands loosened—just the smallest bit, but he noticed.

Cillian inhaled, holding it in a moment to both find his patience and revel in the way her scent gave her away. She could play coy all she liked, but her scent didn’t lie.

“Lass—Cora—you are my wife. You promised before the goddess herself to care for me. Do you mean to break that vow already?”

“No, of course not!”

Cillian returned his hands to her hips and rubbed up and down her curves. It was a slow, gentle motion meant to soothe and excite in equal parts. Despite her protests, Cora’s arms loosened more, and her eyelids slid shut.

“There now, Muirnīn , it’s not so bad as that. I would take no pleasure in forcing you. Let me in—let me show you.”

“Show me?”

He dropped kisses across her middle, allowing one of his hands to drift closer to the tempting warmth between her legs. His other hand slipped beneath his trousers to take hold of his aching cock. The bloody thing was hard enough to pound a tent spike, and the mild relief from his own hand kept him focused. Without it, he might mount her on the spot and fuck her until they both collapsed.

“Cillian? Please, show me what?”

He stared up at her from between her legs and rasped, “Everything.”

Cora met his eyes, that stubborn fire still present in the haze of pleasure. She swallowed thickly, then reached down and cupped his cheek. “Show me,” she whispered.

Cillian nodded, rising to his feet to shed his own clothes. He quickly threw his tunic and trousers to the floor but carefully folded his wolf’s skin. He placed it next to her on the table where he could see and reach it if needed. Cora blushed at the sight of his cock bobbing between his legs, but he liked that she snuck glances anyway. Liked that, even in a small way, she was taking something for herself. He wanted her to take everything—to enjoy his body just as he wanted to enjoy hers.

Cillian took hold of his cock, grazing the head against her pussy. Her arousal coated him, making the slow strokes slick and teasing with each pass. She moaned with each stroke, especially when he pressed the head against her clit as he slid up and down.

“Cillian—I—oh! Oh, it feels so...”

Her words seemed to escape half-formed, each attempt fading into a low moan that only made him move faster, harder, until the table shook beneath them. Lightning and fire sparked and burned beneath his skin, not unlike the first time he’d taken his wolf’s skin. That had been an experience like no other before it, and now the tiny woman beneath him threatened to unravel him with just the feel of her pussy—and he wasn’t even in yet!

Suddenly, the need to be inside, the need to know if she felt just as heavenly on the inside as she did the outside, overwhelmed him. He slowed his strokes until they were slow and gentle again, trying to bring them both down from the frantic edge he’d taken them to.

Cora lifted her head, pupils blown wide with desire. “Why—is that it , then?”

Cillian laughed and shook his head. “No, lass, that’s not it. But I’ll not have my wife’s first fuck be on the same table where I write my letters. Never be able to look my men in the eye across it again, would I?”

She yelped when he pulled her into his arms but still wrapped her arms around his neck. He carried them quickly to his bed roll and laid her out on the furs he kept out for the coldest nights. Without giving her time to protest, he followed her down, notching himself between her thighs. He kissed her hungrily, using the distraction to slide a hand between them and slip a finger inside. When she moaned and arched against him, he added another. “That’s it, lass, let me in,” he murmured between kisses. Her cries grew louder as he stretched her body to fit him. Finally, drawn to the edge of his sanity by her smell and taste, he removed his fingers and pressed his hips to hers.

“Brace yourself,” he warned, resting the head of his cock against her entrance.

She nodded, muscles tensed as though she was expecting a blow. Cillian used his thumb to tease the small bundle of flesh above her cunt. She bit her lip, whimpering as he rubbed it in gentle circles, but obeyed. Cillian eased his cock into her with slow, even strokes. His wife was small—a fact easily forgotten with her large mouth—and he was large even for his own people. He’d hurt her if he wasn’t careful. The wolf snarled at the idea of causing her pain, pushing forward in his consciousness until the snarl escaped his mouth.

“Cillian?”

Her eyes, soft with concern for the first time since he’d met her, soothed the wolf. They slid closed when he pushed in further but opened again when he stilled. They stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, connected in the most primal way a man and woman could be. The feel of her pussy wrapped around his cock threatened to drive him mad if he couldn’t move, but it seemed important to hold her gaze as long as he could.

“Are you well?” he asked softly, clenching his fists beside her head.

She nodded, running her fingers up and down the lengths of his arms. “Yes, I’m fine. No—no pain. But I need... Cillian, please, I need—”

He hushed her with a deep kiss, sure that if he tried, he’d be able to taste her desire. “Shhh, wife. I know what you need. Look down. Watch as I give it to you.”

His first thrusts were slow and smooth, meant to allow her the chance to accommodate him. When she dug her fingernails into his arms and whimpered his name, Cillian couldn’t resist picking up the pace. It felt so good—too good—when he bottomed out, burying every inch of himself within her warmth. Her cries rose again, and Cillian shifted his arm so that he could balance on one and keep his thumb at her clit. Faster and faster they went, bodies crashing together in pleasure again and again. He grit his teeth to keep the howl that threatened to escape at bay. She was perfect, from the way her hair fanned out around her to the way she arched her body to meet him at every thrust. They came together as though they’d been lovers for years; fingers dug into each other’s skin, and voices raised in pleasure. As the fiery desire grew hotter and tighter in his body, Cillian abandoned restraint and hooked her legs around his elbows. Her legs spread as wide as he could manage, and her cries became desperate shrieks as he pounded into her.

“That’s it!” he coaxed. “You feel that? It’s coming now. Get ready, wife—I’m going to fill this incredible cunt. You’re going to be so full of me you’ll drip my seed for days!”

Cora tensed, her legs wrapped tight around his waist as he murmured into her ear. “Cillian, it’s—I feel like—”

Cora’s sentence faded into a loud moan as she came, her pussy convulsing around him so tightly that he couldn’t hold back a shout of surprise. His climax exploded through his body, coating his veins in fire and his mind in bliss. They clutched at each other in a need to anchor themselves in the overwhelming pleasure. Cillian wondered how he’d gone his whole life without knowing that it was possible to feel so overwhelmed by a woman. He also wondered how he’d keep himself from fucking her into the floor every single day now that he knew.

The flames under his skin cooled as long moments passed with only the sounds of their heavy breathing to break the silence. Cillian kissed his wife again, tasting her, caressing her, more slowly than before. Where their kisses before had been war, these kisses felt more like a gift—something given unexpectedly and wholly perfect. He rolled off of her, then turned on his side to face her.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“Yes,” she replied. “I’m... that was wonderful.”

Cillian couldn’t help the smug grin that spread on his face. “Well, didn’t I tell you? So we can forget that nun business, yes?”

Cora blinked at him, her expression incredulous. For a moment, she said nothing, and he worried that he’d insulted her somehow. Then, out of nowhere, she laughed—great belly laughs that shook her whole body and drew tears from her eyes. Her laughter was contagious, and Cillian joined in heartily. Her joy warmed something in his chest, easing a tension he hadn’t known was there. His wife, sated from the pleasure he gave her, smiled and said, “Yes, we can forget about the nuns. I suppose you’re not so hopeless that we’ll need to send you off to marry God and serve man.”

“Well, that’s good to know. I’m shite at servicing men.”

Their shared laughter filled the small space. For the first time in a very long time, Cillian allowed himself to sleep unconcerned with what the day would bring.