Chapter 13
Larkin
The storm was raging outside, angry and loud, letting the world know it was powerful and strong and all-consuming.
The power had flickered on and off for half an hour before we were finally plunged into darkness. And now I sat on the couch in the living room, the fire Odhran had started roaring in the hearth, my focus on a book I found on the shelf.
But I wasn't paying attention to the words, my eyes skimming over the sentences without taking anything in. I kept thinking back to how I reacted when he held me, when he kissed my neck and desire had licked through me so fast and hard, I never wanted it to end.
I looked away from the fire and stared at my mate. He leaned back in the leather chair, a glass of whiskey balanced on the armrest, his fingers curled around it. His focus was on me, and the shadows played across his face, flickers of light making the masculine angles seem sharper.
He gave me a small smile, and I wondered if he was thinking the same things I was. Because even if I panicked earlier, it felt good, and I hadn't wanted it to end, even if my mind had done that job for me.
"How are ye feeling, lass?"
I licked my lips and didn't miss how his gaze dropped to my mouth or how his pupils dilated.
"I'm okay." I have to be.
I could see the worry on his face and knew no amount of me telling him it wasn't him who made me react the way I had earlier, but me, would alleviate any kind of worry he had.
I kept thinking over and over that something was terribly wrong with me, something so broken that it could never be repaired, could never be put back together.
I'm stronger than this. I'm stronger than my horrors.
I set the book down and slowly rose. The shirt I wore was Odhran's and hung to my knees, and I wore a pair of thick wool socks that were pulled up so they got swallowed by the hem of the shirt.
Although he'd gotten me a few pieces of clothing from a small boutique in town, I found myself still wearing his shirts and socks. It made me feel closer to him.
AsI walked toward him, any lingering twinges of pain from the wound at my side faded to the background. I watched as his fingers tightened around the glass, saw his throat move as he swallowed. I felt this unwavering heavy weight of sadness fill me suddenly.
When I stopped in front of him, he tipped his head back and stared at me, his eyes hooded, the fumes of the whiskey he drank mixing with the dark and wild scent that clung to him. My belly fluttered, and desire made its way through me once more.
I wanted him.
"Larkin?" His voice was a husky rumble.
I was tired of being afraid. I was tired of fear tethering me to the unknown. I knew Odhran wouldn't hurt me. I knew he'd only give me soft touches and sweet kisses.
And so I found myself sitting on his lap before I could stop myself, before I could let all my thoughts weigh me down until there was nothing else I could think about. I could feel how tense he was underneath me, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled sharply.
I'd never done something so bold, never even thought about it, but here I was, both legs hanging over Odhran's thickly muscled ones, my focus on his lips. I let myself memorize every part of his face, the masculine scruff that covered his jaw and cheeks. His eyes were so blue, his nose straight and strong, his lips full and pink.
I stared at the scar that ran the length of one side of his face and found myself lifting my hand to run my finger along it. I thought back to the day he'd gotten it, how I'd screamed and cried as I watched the sword move toward him and cut him deep.
"You're so very beautiful to me," I whispered, and felt my cheeks warm that I said the words out loud. Surely a male didn't want to hear how beautiful he was. But the smile he gave me, and how he covered my hand that rested against the scar, had any shyness leaving me.
My heart was beating so hard and fast I could hear it. My other hand shook as I lifted it and cupped each side of his face. His scruff was springy yet soft under my palms.
For a suspended moment, neither of us spoke. He sat there and let me explore him, let me run my fingers over all the hard lines and sharp angles that made him so very masculine. And then I was staring at his mouth once more.
I trailed my fingers over his top lip, then moved it along his bottom. His mouth was soft despite all the maleness he exuded. And when I lightly shifted on his lap and felt the very prominent hardness right under my bottom, a soft sound escaped me.
"I'm sorry, Larkin," he all but groaned. "I canna help it, no' with ye so close."
I smiled, because he sounded so pained in the best of ways.
He felt huge under my bottom, girthy and long, a little—or maybe a lot—frightening in size, if I were being honest.
"You're so hard, Odhran." I didn't know why I said it out loud and instantly felt my cheeks heat in mortification.
He rested his head back on the chair and looked at me with hooded eyes. The sound that came from him was part sigh, part moan, and then he was smoothing his fingers along my cheeks, where my flesh felt like it was on fire.
He didn't say anything, and I knew he was giving me the power to do as little or as much as I wanted, even if I could see in his eyes how hard it was to relinquish his dominance.
He started breathing harder. I could see how tight his jaw was, felt how his whole body trembled. And in that moment, I felt very powerful. I wasn't even half the size of my mate, yet he looked at me as if I frightened him.
I slid my hands down his cheeks and cupped either side of his neck. His pulse beat frantically beneath my fingers, and I slowly licked my lips, feeling warmth fill me.
I remembered this sensation from when we were in that clearing and he kissed me passionately. I could still taste the wild flavor that covered his tongue and lips as I felt all that hard masculinity press against me.
My body softened, I heard a low rumble leave him, and I was moving closer, my focus on his lips. His mouth was slightly parted, his canines getting longer right before my eyes.
It was a heady sensation, seeing Odhran aroused, even more powerful to feel that desire lick across my body. Because although I knew he was trying to control himself, knew how powerful he was, I also knew he wouldn't hurt me. Never.
He still said nothing, didn't move, didn't try to touch me anymore than he was.
I pressed my lips against his, just the lightest of touches. This was the first time I'd been the one to initiate any kind of sexual act, and as much as it was empowering, I felt grossly inadequate, wholly inexperienced.
But I also knew Odhran, being my fated mate, would also be just as inexperienced as I was. Neither one of us had touched another, never desired anyone else.
But his instincts would take over, the primal, alpha side of him knowing exactly what to do, knowing inherently how to pleasure me when the time came.
I moved my mouth slowly over his, exploring his lips, tasting his passion for me. His body was so hard beneath me, all but shaking in his need, in his arousal. The heavy, throbbing stiffness of his erection dug into my bottom, jerking every once in a while as I delved deeper into the kiss, as I explored him more thoroughly.
And when I opened my mouth and dragged my tongue along the seam of his lips, the harsh groan that left him sent a surge of power through me. He moved his tongue sensually, slowly along mine, and a soft gasp followed by a moan left me.
I heard his nails clawing at the leather armrest, heard his heavy, increased breathing, and I felt fire move through me before settling right between my legs. Warm wetness spilled from me, and I clenched my thighs, the sensation so foreign that I pulled back, my eyes feeling wide as I panted.
His eyes were hooded, his lips red and glossy and slightly parted from our kiss. He was so very big and masculine, his shoulders so broad, his muscles so pronounced that even the chair seemed minuscule in comparison.
I felt more wetness spill from that secret place between my thighs and watched as his nostrils flared. My face heated further, understanding he could smell me, knew my desire was raging for him.
"It's okay, darlin'." His voice was so deep and distorted I knew his wolf was sharing this time with the both of us.
And as if to let me know the beast was here too, Odhran's eyes flashed blue.
"Your wolf," I moaned, feeling even more arousal at that thought. I could see the visage of his animal flash across his face, his bone structure becoming sharper.
"It's okay," he said again and again. "I canna help it. He wants tae be here with us, to taste ye, touch ye. He's a selfish, greedy bastard." He was panting. "Like me."
I moaned at the thought, more wetness spilling from my pussy.
"Ah, my girl, so primed for me." He dug his nails deeper into the leather, tearing the material. "What ye're feeling is normal. It's how it's supposed tae be."
I ran my tongue over my lips, tasting his flavor. He groaned again, and I leaned forward once more, kissing him, wanting to crawl inside Odhran where it was safe and warm and where I'd always feel this pleasure.
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and we deepened the kiss, tongues pressing and moving together, our flavors and scents coexisting as one. His cock throbbed incessantly underneath me, and I started rocking back and forth, finding a rhythm that had me so slick between my legs, I knew if I stood that wetness would slide down my inner thighs.
I moaned once more and got lost in all things Odhran. But when I felt his hand move up my back, following the length of my spine, something in me started to change, to shift. I tried to push it back, reminding myself this was my mate, my protector.
Flashes of my prison, of the pain and torture, of the cruel hits and touches, flashed in my mind so fast and brightly that Odhran instantly sensed the change. He let go of me, and as I continued to push past those memories that had once again ruined this moment, I felt so hopeless that I was crying before I realized the tears fell.
"My sweet girl." His voice was guttural, filled with pain.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm broken." My eyes were squeezed shut so tightly they stung. I shook my head over and over again, trying to clear the memories away.
He wrapped his arms around me slowly, gently. And when I wasn't pulled back to the past, he gently stroked by back.
"I'll never let ye go. I'll always be here. No matter what." He started speaking in Gaelic, soft words I didn't understand but knew they were meant to ease me. "There's no rush. No rush at all." He kissed the top of my head, and I buried my face in the crook of his neck.
After a few moments, and after I gathered my self-control, I whispered, "I'm not normal." I felt his arms tighten around me as if reflexively.
"There's no such thing as normal, sweetheart. We are how we're meant tae be in this world. We just have tae navigate new waters." He kissed my temple and said something in Gaelic. "We have the rest of our lives tae find what works for us, and if all I ever get tae do is hold ye like this, I'll count myself the luckiest male ever."
I clutched his shirt and shook my head, although I didn't know what I was denying.
"No rush," he murmured. "And we'll find our new normal. We'll work through what we have tae, because we're meant tae be together."
He kept speaking in Gaelic, the words slowly morphing into what resembled a lullaby.
And despite the turmoil, the hardship, and all the obstacles that seemed to stand in our way of finding that elusive happily ever after, I knew no matter what, this was where I was meant to be.
I just didn't know if that was how destiny saw it too.