Epilogue

T here were truly no words to describe the sheer incessant need that came with a royal she-wolf’s breeding heat.

Evaine moved restlessly on the bed, whimpering a little as the inferno within her began to rise again. Nothing could ease her except a screaming release. Although she gained a short respite each time Alaric used his tongue or fingers, the only time her blood cooled long enough to rest was after her mate’s cock had locked inside her, flooding her cunt with seed.

They’d not left this bedchamber in days. While all their subjects had been ordered to stay at least fifty feet away from Wolf’s Gate Tower to lessen the impact of her heat on them, Blanche had recruited a huge number of local wolves to act as temporary servants. They took turns bringing fresh food and wine, bathing water, messages, and linen, and left them outside the chamber door. It seemed the Cestrians were thrilled that such an important and special event had occurred in their town, and they all wanted to say that they’d served.

Evaine tried not to ponder the fact that every wolf in the Western Lands knew she was in her heat and that she and Alaric were rutting like wild beasts—it would be far too embarrassing. This was simply a sacrifice that came with being royal: certain aspects of your life would never be private, and a breeding heat which might result in a prince for the Western throne was one of them.

“Alaric,” she whispered. “I’m too hot.”

“One moment, sweetheart. I’ll get some fresh cool water,” said her mate, as he climbed off the bed and ambled over to the door.

Evaine licked her lips at the delectable sight. His perfect arse already carried several bite marks of appreciation, and his back was covered in scratches. There were, however, a few unblemished inches. She certainly needed to add to her canvas. “Hurry, my mate.”

Alaric glanced over his shoulder and winked. When he opened the chamber door to collect the fresh supplies: a bucket of herbed water, jug of wine, and a tray of sliced meats and honey cakes, he deliberately bent right over.

Oh, her king wished to tease? Evaine’s mouth watered, the inner flame rising higher and higher, and she growled. Then she sprang from the bed and walked to the coolest corner of the chamber, the one where they ate and bathed. It was far too warm for her in front of the fire.

“Sponge me,” Evaine purred, running her hands over her breasts and tweaking her nipples.

Alaric’s eyes glittered as he approached. First, he set down the food and wine, then he continued toward her with the herbed water. At the first touch of the deliciously cold liquid to her overheated skin, Evaine sighed in pleasure. But as he ran the sponge over her flesh, there were certain areas such as her back and legs that he gently scrubbed, whereas he offered no more than the briefest touch to her swollen nipples and aching center. Wicked wolf.

Evaine growled a warning. In response, he soaked the sponge and crushed it on her shoulder, allowing the water to flow down over her breasts and drip from her nipples. Then he bent her back over his strong arm, lapping and sucking the water away.

Ah. Much better.

She moaned at the deliciously rough tugging on her nipples, threading her fingers through Alaric’s hair and holding him in place. But it wasn’t nearly enough to sate her, and soon her hips circled, trying to find something, anything to rub against.

“Poor sweetheart,” he murmured. “You need to spend again, don’t you?”

Evaine cried out in gratitude as he slid the sponge down over her stomach to her mound, then rubbed back and forth against her pleasure bud. As a loving mate he didn’t make her wait, dropping the sponge on the floor and replacing it with his hand, penetrating her sheath with two fingers and plunging them deep. Her release was shockingly swift, and she screamed in delight as his thumb pressed her pleasure bud to prolong it. However, unlike all the previous occasions in the week, it didn’t start a gentle cooling wave within her. The inferno merely climbed higher.

“Alaric,” she said in panicked confusion. “It’s not stopping. Goddess, please. Again.”

Her mate immediately scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the bed. “My tongue?”

“Yes,” Evaine begged, spreading her thighs wide for him.

Alaric growled, the low rumble provoking even more honey to flow from her center. As he dragged his tongue through her petal-soft folds, she moaned, eagerly grinding against his chin and coating his mouth in her wetness. A second release burst through her and she cried out, bucking on the bed. And yet again, it wasn’t enough to douse the flame.

“Evie?” said Alaric, his brow furrowing as he rested his chin on her inner thigh.

Evaine writhed on the bed, her fingernails near-slashing the sheets. “Please,” she gasped, the inferno actually painful now. “I need you inside me. Seed. Give me seed. Hurry. Hurry .”

He took his engorged cock in hand, rubbing the head against her slickness to fully wet it, then he entered her, slowly but relentlessly. “There, shhh, here you go sweetheart. Take it all.”

Tilting her hips and wrapping her legs around his flanks, Evaine pulled him close to ensure he was as deep inside her as possible. “Harder, my king. Harder .”

With a feral snarl, Alaric slowly withdrew, then thrust brutally forward. Again and again he pounded into her and it was so perfect, so necessary, that Evaine could only chant his name as she clutched at his shoulders, willing him on, willing him to quench the unbearable fire threatening to consume her. Abruptly her fangs elongated, and she turned her head slightly and sank them into the curve of his shoulder.

It was like being struck by lightning. Stunning pleasure engulfed Evaine and her scream of pure ecstasy twined with Alaric’s roar as they knotted together, his cock expanding and her cunt contracting around his length, milking him of seed until it gushed inside her greedy sheath, filling her and filling her. At last she found blessed cool relief and when her mate slumped down on top of her, she nuzzled him, licking at the small puncture wound and crooning nonsense words in his ear.

Eventually, Alaric carefully rolled onto his back, so she lay on his chest. His hand began stroking her sweat-covered shoulders, and it was so soothing her eyes grew heavy and her body relaxed, her inner walls slowly releasing their vise-like grip on his cock. When it at last slipped free, Evaine flopped onto her side, grimacing a little at the soreness between her legs. Yet there was another sensation as well, a new, odd tingling in her lower belly.

“Alaric,” she whispered, pressing her hand to her abdomen. “Something is happening. I can feel it. I think…I think I might have conceived.”

He covered her hand with his, gently cradling her belly, and the awe and wonder on his face brought tears to her eyes. “Really? I mean, I hoped beyond measure…cubs from my Evie would be a gift above any other.”

Without warning, Evaine’s body bucked then curled, and she changed into wolf form with a startled yelp.

Goddess!

Her mind still whirling, she rested her muzzle on her mate’s thigh. But wanting some part of this to be private, Evaine reached out through their mind link. “ Well. I believe the question has been answered. I suppose we must announce it? ”

Alaric shrugged as he tenderly smoothed her fur. “ They’ll know soon enough. I must also warn you: the blessing ceremony for the birth of a royal heir requires the Western crowns to be hauled out of the Treasury again. And I probably cannot deny Rowan his moment in the sun a second time. No halting him mid-speech to hasten the bedding. ”

“ Ugh, those crowns ,” said Evaine, laughing reluctantly. “ But what if I need to be bedded ?”

“ Then you would have to beg most prettily, my queen ,” said Alaric, his eyes glinting. Oh indeed, her king was the most contented male in Wolfdom.

She rolled her eyes, then yawned. “ A she-wolf beg? Ha. Now, pet me some more. I desire to lie here alone with you for as long as possible .”

“ As you wish. We have so many adventures ahead .”

Evaine sighed contentedly at his touch, although her joy at impending motherhood was tinged with sadness and anxiety, too. Mother and Father could only watch from the stars. And somewhere, Isabel, Cecily and Lucan were still running. Still hiding. Still in terrible danger, because while Guy Saville had lost the battle, the war for the Eastern throne continued. There would always be more mercenaries. Someday soon, the usurper would return, even stronger than before.

Please, Leto. I beg thee…wherever they are, keep my sisters and brother safe.

Enjoyed this paranormal-historical mash up?

Keep an eye on Nicola’s social media for details of Book #2: Wolf Warrior .

Until then, if you need more scorching hot, swashbuckling medieval (human) romps, why not travel up to Scotland and try the Glennoe Highlanders series?