Wolf Bride: The Tale of Ailis and Eoghan

A Macconwood Pack Prequel

From The Grazi Kelly Universe

by C.D. Gorri

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, places, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either part of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. All rights are reserved. No part of this book is to be reproduced, scanned, downloaded, printed, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of any materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank ye for respecting the hard work of this author.

To my family for always supporting me! I love you del mare alla stella!

And to my Paranormal Pack! xoxo

Tagline:

One bride, two Wolves, and a love neither of them knew was possible.

Synopsis:

He is the first son of the Alpha, a warrior, and a Hound of God. Duty bound to secure the future of his Pack.

He must sacrifice his freedom and marry the lass of his father’s choosing, but a chance meeting changes his mind.

She is the property of her father. A woman with a secret and a yearning for the truth. Lies, threats, and betrayal are just some of the forces driving their future.

Will Eoghan and Ailis find true love in spite of it all?

Find out how it all began in this prequel to the Macconwood Pack Series.

PROLOGUE

War, famine, bloodfeud, and more plague the Wolves of Northern Ireland. With the English tightening the noose, Dark Witches running amok, and the Hounds of God losing their foothold in Britannia, tensions are running high. A marriage to join Packs is the only way forward to foster peace amongst the Werewolves of the Emerald Isle, but for those closely involved, peace may come at too high a price.

Thunder sounded overhead and icy rain poured down from the darkening skies. Eoghan MacContire’s blonde hair stuck to his forehead and neck from the vicious onslaught of weather. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth to the frigid yet refreshing water.

He sloshed it around and spit it out on the red-stained, muddy ground. The acrid stench of blood and dark magic was still strong in the air.

His mail was thick with the gory remnants of battle. With any luck, the rain would wash most of it away. Cleansing the Earth, but unfortunately, not his mind.

Eoghan wiped his sword on the bottom of his tunic and placed it back inside it’s leather scabbard. He exhaled and pulled off the mail shirt that sat atop his plain, wool leine. The garment was heavy and wet with the blood of his enemies. It would need a good scrubbing.

Eoghan looked around in disgust at the hovel where they’d found the Dark Coven casting their forbidden magic. They chose a secluded part of the forest to practice their rituals. Dead animals hung from the trees that surrounded the enclosure.

He walked from corpse to hanging corpse and noted the shape his path made. The Witches’ offerings formed an inverted pentacle. A sure sign of evil.

Most of the beasts were freshly killed, but some were rotten and decayed with their bones clearly visible. Runes were carved into the trunks of those trees from which they hung.

Eoghan did not recognize the markings as Irish or Celtic. Must be Demonspeak, he thought, the tongue of the damned. He crossed himself and continued his walk.

He spat on the ground next to the rotting corpse of the so-called Head Witch of this particular coven. She looked too young to be the mistress and yet she readily claimed the title when they attacked.

His gaze sharpened as he took in the self-mutilation evident on her corpse. She looked as if she’d been dead a fortnight instead of just a few hours. Still, her face was not as heavily lined as the last Head Witch he’d killed. Something was off, but he couldn’t put a finger on it.

He kicked the ground and stalked away, mail shirt in hand. The battle was over and they were victorious, he’d do well to focus on that. His men fought bravely, with speed and accuracy.

The world was a little bit safer this night because of it. He shouldn’t worry over the small niggling feeling in the back of his mind that all was not settled.

There were other things that needed his attention. He tossed his heavy mail shirt and sword to one of his men.

“Oi there, Tom Kelly, see to it these are properly cleaned and looked after.”

“Aye, I shall, sir.”

“My thanks, son,” Tom Kelly was a new Wolf, a lad of just sixteen years. He had his first Change only a few months ago, but his calling to the Hounds of God came immediately upon that Change. He was a loyal lad.

It was an honor to assign him such a detail as taking care of Eoghan’s chain mail. Twas a valuable possession. He received it as tribute from a Scotsman. He was a mercenary Werewolf who hired himself out to the Gallowglass.

They’d fought a battle together and Eoghan saved the man’s life. He in turn made him a gift of the mail shirt. It served him well every battle since then. This day was no exception.

He’d had a close call with a particularly nasty Witch who came at him with a sharpened spear and a crazed look in his black eyes. He was a shadow of a man, possessed by whatever Demon he’d sold his soul to. The Witch flung the weapon with the strength of Beelzebub himself.

His aim was true. It would have killed Eoghan had the tip not stuck in one of the small mail links right over his heart. Eoghan snapped the Witch’s neck with his bear hands and only realized after the fact that he’d almost lost his life.

His stomach clenched at the thought. There was still so much he wanted to see and do. A dreadful unease settled over him. It was a nagging bitch of a feeling and he tried to shake it, but nothing worked.

Once all seven Witches’ corpses were decapitated and burned, their Demons sent back to hell, Eoghan ordered his men to see to the cleansing of the wood surrounding the area. He normally took part in the healing ritual, but he was too restless. He couldn’t focus enough to recite the Latin prayers needed for the ritual.

His head was reeling, he’d almost died. On top of that, the Witches magic had used up the strength of two full fields that were almost ready to harvest, one barley and one wheat. The failing crops alerted the Hounds to the presence of Witches in that area. A thing like that could mean starvation for the people in that area.

Eoghan volunteered for the mission and was glad he was the one who found the parasites before they sucked the land dry. Technically, it was not Greyback Pack territory, but this mission was overseen by the Hounds of God; therefore, he was granted access to the place.

Witches were a scourge on society. He’d see them all burn if he could. Agh, enough! He needed to calm his blood. He stilled himself and took a deep breath. The full moon was days away, but his Wolf already looked out of his eyes. He thanked God for it.

One of the worst things about being a Werewolf was missing that other intricate part of yerself in the long stretch of days between moons. He had to wait only a while longer and he’d be able to run as his Wolf. Only then would he be free as he never could be as a man.

As the first son of the Alpha, Eoghan was bound by his duties to his Pack because of his position. He didn’t want to think about any of that now. He shook his wet head and stripped off the thick wool inar that sheltered him from the elements.

He tossed it to the same Kelly lad who held his mail and sword. He could stay in that place no longer and so he made his way deeper into the woods.

His men would take care of everything. The priests who travelled with them would put to rights the remnants of their battle. He’d have a few hours to himself. Well deserved, as they were, he still thought about going back to help.

Twas his place as Lieutenant General in the Hounds’ war party to stay with his men, but right then he needed to put some distance between himself and all that death. A moment alone, where he could breathe in something clean and untainted. The foul black-magicked air they’d been inhaling still clogged his lungs.

He walked nigh on five miles from the battle site before slowing down. Perhaps it was far enough. The sound of running made him stop in his tracks. Eoghan stifled a growl and crouched behind a large, moss-covered boulder that sat on the bank of the small stream he’d found amongst the trees.

He strained to listen over the sounds of the running water and the icy rain. The pounding footsteps were nearer now. He peeked out from behind the large rock and found himself gazing at the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen.

His supernaturally enhanced eyesight allowed him to see the maiden clearly. Aye, but she is a glorious sight, he thought as he gazed upon her. The rain was coming down in earnest, but it didn’t seem to bother the wood nymph.

She tossed her head back and lifted the hem of her long, plain dress to high enough to reveal long shapely legs. He barely got a look at them before she moved to stand knee deep in the rushing waters of the stream. He turned his body so he would be in a good position to act fast should she fall, but the lass was steady on her feet.

The wind howled around them and the rain dropped down even harder. Despite his Wolf-sharpened vision, Eoghan could barely make out her face. Especially with her head tilted back as it was. But by his oath, her body! That he had no trouble discerning for she wore neither cota nor plaide.

She had a trim waist that flared out to well-rounded hips. Her breasts were high and supple, her nipples visible through the thin layers of material as the fabric became soaked with rain water. She laughed aloud, a bright, pleasant sound that created a yearning inside of his gut.

He was mesmerized. He watched her like a starving man gazed longingly at a loaf of bread. She danced in the stream, turning, round and round, in circles with her arms held out wide. Like some wild and untamed thing. By God’s eyes, he wanted her then and there for his own.

He wanted more than just to possess her, he wanted to join her in her freedom. To taste the wildness on her lips. She had an unbroken beauty to her. Not bound by the constraints of society’s definition of decorum.

It would be a shame to see her caged. He wondered what hell she’d escaped from to see her so joyous amidst a thunderstorm deep in the wood? But she was grand, he’d give her that.

Eoghan never felt such a longing. It was a deeply rooted sensation that made him want to do things he ne’er thought himself capable of. He had to still himself so as not to reach out and pull her to his chest.

Who is she? What mystery brought her now to this place? He licked his lips and studied the maiden as she reveled in the harsh Irish weather. As if she were part of it and the land around her.

Aye, go on then lass, drink it all in. Eoghan had never seen anything to match her in all his life. Not even his stallion, Bryn. At nineteen hands the beast was the largest in the land. Necessary for carrying a man who, as a Werewolf, stood a head taller than most and weighed almost half again the average man, for all the thick ropes of muscle that covered his body.

Right then, Eoghan’s only concern was for the feminine body that danced but a short distance away. He focused on the small rivulets of rain water that ran down her long neck and disappeared between the mounds of flesh visible from the top of her dress.

He felt a stirring in his loins as he watched her womanly curves perfectly outlined in her rain soaked gown. She was just as a woman should be. That stirring turned to full on lust in a matter of moments as he imagined running his hands over the soft flesh hidden beneath the wet fabric.

Desire was something Eoghan was familiar with, but this time twas different. He never felt such a tightening in the pit of his stomach. His heart raced inside of his chest. What’s more, he could see his Wolf in his mind’s eye. The great beast was standing at attention as he watched her.

Was it some kind of warning? This sudden intense awareness? He didn’t know if he should trust it or not. Maybe she was a fairy and not to be trifled with by the likes of him. A fantastical notion indeed, Eoghan MacContire.

He cursed under his breath. He wasn’t used to thinking like a fool. He almost missed it as she leaned down as if to grab something with her long delicate fingers. Her left foot slipped a fraction of a space and Eoghan started towards her before she completely lost her footing on the moss-covered rocks. He leapt forward like a stag and held her safe by her arm till she regained her composure.

“Are you in need of aid, my lady?”

Bright eyes, blue as a morning sky, flashed at him. He didn’t know if she was more startled by her near miss or by his sudden presence. She looked like some sort of otherworldly being standing amidst the trees and the stream. The rain and the elements didn’t seem to bother her one bit.

She was even better looking up close, soaked to the bone as she was he couldn’t imagine another who could even compare to the lass. Her pale skin was clear with a hint of rose in her cheeks, her big blue eyes were wide and surrounded by thick, dark lashes, and her hair wound down her back in a long braid. He wished he could tell what color it was, but twas far too wet for him to discern.

“Nay, sir, I am in no need of yer aid and I’ll thank ye to release my arm,” she said. Her voice was clear and strong, indicative of the woman who spoke. Eoghan’s gaze roamed over the strangely enticing female from head to toe.

“I’d love to oblige ye, miss, but if I do that, ye’d fall clean over into the stream and I’d have to jump in after ye.”

“Can’t ye swim, sir?”

“Aye, but I’d much rather take hold of ye from solid ground than in that frigid water.”

“I’ll not ask ye again, sir, release my arm.”

“Yer not very grateful. I say, would yer family be for yer safe return?”

“Wouldst thou be grateful if a great beast of a man first spied on ye then refused to let go of yer person though he was asked twice?”

“Let’s out of the water then and I shall release yer arm, lady. Prithee, I cannot have it on my conscience were ye to be upended downstream when I could have prevented such.”

“I am not entirely certain yer grasping the fact that I’ve no wish for a savior!”

“I don’t think I’m the only one with very little understanding on things, after all, tis not I who stands ankle deep in a running stream with lightning brewing in the heavens!”

“Prithee, tell me more about good sense when ye wear naught in all this wetness, but a leine! A thin one at that!”

“Doth thou judge me for the size of my purse then?”

“Nay, I’ve no right to judge ye for yer purse size. My apologies, sir, now my arm, please?”

His mystery maiden averted her eyes, away from his exposed torso, but Eoghan could see her interest. He grinned down at her. He supposed he should have done up his laces, but he liked the heat that he witnessed flashing in her blue eyes when she gazed upon his bare skin.

Indeed, he liked it just as much as her quick retorts. That was unique amongst the women he’d met. A man in his position was required to be seen at certain social functions with society’s best and most eligible ladies. He’d had little use for those parties and often did not attend.

The few misses that he did meet were silly waspish things that he had no use for. Aye, give me an honest lass as this, he thought to himself. She stole another look at his exposed skin and Eoghan found his appetite for her increased. He held her elbow when she would have pulled away and was rewarded with the narrowing of her blue eyes.

His heart thudded heavily inside of his chest at that look. The lady was brave as well as beautiful. A mystery for certain. Curiosity burned inside of him like a wildfire. What was she doing out here alone?

“By yer leave, I shall escort ye to yer father’s house, tis not safe for a lady-”

“Nay, sir, I shall take my leave alone, after all I got here without ye.”

“Alone? Tis getting dark, I would see to yer safety.”

“Stay, sir, I shall see to mine own safety.”

“What is it you hide from me, lady?” Eoghan inhaled as he tried to get a read on the wild lass in his grip.

Alas, the smell of battle still lingered in his nostrils. He bent his head down to the nape of her neck, but his nose picked up nothing of her. Only a stream of fragrances that masked her real identity. Cloves, rosemary, heather, lavender, and some other exotic oils. A kitchen or laundry maid perhaps?

The combination of scents, blood, metal, spice, rain and wet earth, left him without the use of his Wolf’s nose to tell him who or what she was. Still, he knew she was no Witch. Her bright eyes and healthy teeth told him that.

“My lady, I would be glad to be of service to you. If it pleases you to know, my name-”

“Nay, sir, pray do not tell me yer name.”

“Why? Don’t ye wish to know me?” Eoghan bantered easily with the lass, but inside he was in turmoil.

His every instinct was to take her and possess her as his own. Could this be matebonding, he wondered? The ancient notion of a Wolf finding his mate upon first sight was sung about by minstrels and bards, but he’d never seen it in person.

Lust and longing raced through Eoghan’s blood, and something more. A sort of heightened awareness of the lady in front of him, a tightening in his gut. It was a heady and strong feeling though he could not give it a name. The lightness in the atmosphere soon gave way to a dangerous sort of tension.

He leaned in closer, anticipation building up inside of him like steam in a kettle. He was just about ready to burst when she raised a slender hand and placed it gently on his chest. The light brush of her fingers on that part of his body revealed from the open ties of his soaked leine sent lightning shooting all through his body.

His breath came heavier now as his chest tightened in response to her light touch. In his mind’s eye, he pictured her supple form moving wildly beneath him as he penetrated her soft velvet core over and over again. He could almost hear her groans and taste her honey on his tongue.

“I’ll have an answer, lady.”

“I know not how to answer thee, sir, soon I must leave and tis likely I’ll not see ye again.”

“Aye, but sweet lass, right now, we both are here in the wood, alone, in the rain, and Heaven’s love is shining down on us right in this moment.”

“It makes me sad, sir, for we have no time, all would be over before it even started.”

Her softly spoken words touched him like a warm caress. Eoghan’s heart thumped wildly in his chest for it meant she felt the attraction between them as did he. Perhaps there was hope then.

“Nay, my lady, tis not over yet. I shall continue to hold you here till I have had my fill of ye.”

“I am not free. Ye must leave me as I am.”

Eoghan felt his beast growl at the thought of who stood to gain this maid for a wife. He wanted to hunt down his rival and tear his throat out with his teeth, but who was he to argue. Eoghan himself was betrothed.

“This is all the time we have, lady, will ye not succumb?”

He took the maid by her chin and forced her eyes up to his. What he saw there reflected in her eyes were feelings as intense as his own. He stood a hair’s breath away from her, the pounding inside her chest audible to his supernatural ears.

“I am promised-”

“Damn the man who claims ye as his. He may have rights to yer future, lady, but yer present, here and now, is mine!”

Eoghan wrapped the lass close to his chest. The feel of her pressed against him sizzled through his body like a burning flame. There was no denying the intensity of his desire for her.

He bent his head and kissed her lips with all the pent-up passion he had inside of him. It was like being caught in the eye of the storm. Everything else faded away.

Deafening silence filled his ears as he tasted the sweet saltiness of her mouth. He growled deep inside his chest when she pressed herself more fully against him.

She sighed into the kiss, allowing him better access to her mouth. Enchanting. She wound her hands through his wet locks and held on as he delved inside of her heated mouth without fear or guile. No pretense or illusions. Nay, no lying or falseness here, his Wolf felt the honesty that made up her very being.

Wanton thoughts of lust and desire filled his brain, but there was more to it as well. Something familiar about her, though he could not place it.

There was a freshness and tenderness there, but also something powerful and raw. He pressed his hardened arousal against her hips, expecting her to swoon, but she didn’t move away. She was fierce in her stance, meeting him stroke for stroke with tongue, lips, and teeth. I must have her.

Her breath was fresh and sweet, her body sumptuous, and her response intoxicating as he dove headfirst into her embrace. The rain that fell on them trickled down to a stop. A thick fog began to rise from the ground, losing their feet and legs in the misty whiteness.

Huge droplets of rain clung to his clothes, hair, and eyelashes, but he cared not. He was lost in their kiss. Longing threatened to consume him. He wanted to throw her down on the muddied ground and bury himself inside of her.

“I am mad for you, lady, wilt thou have me?”

“Sir? I, I-”

The temptation to take her right then and there was almost too much for him. He dipped his head to take her lips once more, determined to claim this maid, but the call of his man, Kelly, brought him back to reality. Far too soon.

“Tis finished, my lord! We are set to break camp! My lord, the fog grows thick, where art thou?!”

His Wolf growled in his mind’s eye, take her, claim her as mate. He wanted too, sure as he needed to breathe air. The stomping footsteps of his men through the wood were getting closer and he’d not have her in front of an audience.

“Halt! I shall come to you!” Eoghan ended the kiss and called out to his men.

Glazed blue eyes met his dark ones. Funny, he thought, her eyes are blue as are mine when I am Wolf. Mine, the growled word reverberated through his head.

Perhaps he could bring her home with him, take her as his mistress? Even as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. She was not made to be a man’s mistress and he could not live a lie.

While he was pondering the situation, the maiden raised a hand to her mouth. For some reason, the astonishment on her face was nearly his undoing.

Before he could speak, before he could put words to the tumultuous feelings inside of him, the lass reached out a trembling hand and brushed it across his face. Then she grabbed her sodden skirts and ran through the mist.

“There you are, my lord,” Tom Kelly walked up to him and tried to look to see what it was Eoghan was so intent on.

There was, fortunately, nothing there. Not even a trace of her in the fog. She was gone.

The Wolf in him demanded he make chase, the man ran his hands through his hair and stood there powerless.

“I let her go.”

“Who, my lord?”

“Her, Kelly.”

CHAPTER 1

Three weeks later…

“I am Chief of the Name, Alpha of the Greyback, and I am also yer father! Ye will marry the Lady Dungannon!”

“Nay, I will marry none but the maid from the wood, father! Especially not some long-toothed pup for the sake of alliance!”

“The girl has but nineteen summers and that maid was naught but yer imagination! None of yer men saw the lass!”

“That many years and Dungannon’s daughter has not wed nor received proposal? She must be some scabbed cur or slow of wit, either way she will not do for me. My sight is on the other.”

“Ye will marry because I command it. Yer sight? Yer sight, indeed! Yer men take ye for a fool or perhaps bespelled! I had to assure them ye had been examined by Fr. Martin! The lass is of high birth and is a normal to boot! Now, obey, pup of mine, or doth ye challenge yer father and Alpha?” The first Eoghan MacContire stood his full height and flashed his eyes at his son.

“By my oath, I will do as you command if I can not find the lady, but father, I don’t want to give up my search yet. If she be the one, my matebond, then I shall not lose my freedom to another! Please-”

“God’s blood, boy, I’ll not say it again.”

Power laced the words of Eoghan’s father and forced the younger Wolf to avert his eyes. Anger and defiance refused to allow him to stoop his shoulders or bow his head, but he knew better than to stare down the man who was both his Alpha and sire.

He wanted more from life than to be a pawn for the Pack. He wanted adventure. He wanted to explore new worlds. And yes, he wanted to find the lass from the woods, to see if she was his heart’s true desire. Mine own true mate.

Anyway, the Dungannon lass was more Brit than Irish! What care he is she be normal or Wolf or cat even? How could his father think she’d do for him?

The entire North of Ireland hated all things English. He had a special loathing for all who were favored by Bess including the bastard Raleigh for the lands he took and the Irish blood he spilled for his Virgin Queen.

Of course, he admitted to himself, he did admire the Queen’s favorite for his ability to sail across the world and step on land untouched by corruption and greed. Eoghan would love to see the New World. To bring his father’s Wolves there, to expand their territory, but his da would not hear of it. As he would not hear tales of Eoghan’s maiden.

His father insisted their future was there, on Irish soil. Eoghan’s shoulder’s slumped. A wife. What would he do with a wife, especially one he did not love?

He’d have to give up the life he’d dreamt for himself. It was almost more than he could bear. The low growl emanating from his father’s chest weighed down on him. The power of the Alpha demanded he get down on his knees in submission, but Eoghan fought back the urge. He was too angry to play the penitent child.

He kept his spine straight. His face a mask. Werewolves were too attuned to body language for him to let his guard down. He didn’t want his father to guess what he was thinking. Nay, that would not do.

He inhaled steady breaths and wished he hadn’t pulled his pale blonde hair back from his face that morning. If it was loose least he could run his hands through it and not stand there clenching his fists. His father hated that he kept his hair long.

Twas not the popular hairstyle for young men of rank in society, but within the Pack, many a male allowed his hair to grow beyond the current fashion. Either way, it was his singular way of defying his father who preferred his sons to wear the trim hair of a monk.

His brother Lyall cut his hair in compliance with their da’s wishes, but not he. He recalled many a maid who preferred his silky platinum locks to his brother’s short, dark hair.

He hadn’t even looked at a wench in weeks. These days, he found he could not without comparing her to his wood nymph. The image of her standing in her wet dress, arms wide twirling about in the stream on the day of that battle against the Dark Ones was ingrained in his memory.

Indeed, she haunted his dreams. Her pale skin and long hair, especially the taste of her. By God’s eyes, he wanted her more for the time they had spent apart. He could still see her startling blue eyes gazing up at him from where her perfect form clung tightly to him. His body grew hard just thinking of her. God’s truth, she must be my mate.

Did she think of him? Did she think him attractive or enticing? His mother had called him fair many a time when she was alive. He had chiseled features, fair skin, pink lips, and a tall lean body roped with muscle and designed for speed and agility. Even his beard was flaxen.

Oddly enough, his Wolf was pure black except for one white forepaw, and where his eyes were dark as a man, they glowed ice blue as Wolf. Still pretty, however, that much was true. He inherited his silvery pale locks from his blessed mother.

He felt foolish for thinking of a wench he’d never see again in the face of his da’s misery. His heart still ached at the thought of his ma’s poor soul. She departed this world not a month passed.

She was a normal and as such was susceptible to human illness. She suffered from a disease of the lungs. Seeing her in pain was almost too much for him to bear, but he was a good son and he stayed by her side. As did his father.

His father who stood before him now angry as a, well, as a Wolf. Eoghan regretted that he was the cause of his ire. He respected his da. Loved him even. But how could he heed his command? Especially having seen the torment and pain his da went through at the loss of his mother.

Eoghan wondered if he would be able to stand the pain of losing a wife to such torture as his father had done. Marriage? No. How could he marry one when his dreams were consumed by another?

“The wedding will proceed.”

“Nay, da!”

“It is done!”

Ever since his mother’s death, his father was over-worried with seeing his eldest son married. Eoghan looked at his father, he was not the smiling da of his youth. Nay, gray and silver streaks shone in his hair where they never were before. Lines crinkled at the corners of his eyes and heavy, dark circles ringed them, telling of his pain and sleepless nights.

“Father, perhaps if you rested some you would come to see my side of it-”

“Enough! You will marry the Dungannon lass as was promised. What kind of man would break an oath such as this, son? Are you asking me to be liar and coward?”

“No, sir, of course Not, I just-”

A servant entered the room with parchment in hand. He was out of breath. The smell of human sweat and dirt filled Eoghan’s nostrils. He was a messenger, one of those trusted to present to his da, Chief of the name to all normals in the village. He bowed and handed the rolled paper to Eoghan’s father.

The interruption gave Eoghan time to think. Tis true, a bond was made, he admitted silently. He was betrothed to the Dungannon’s daughter before he went to fight that battle in the woods. The one that had changed his life.

The facts were against him, but he left his heart in the woods that day. He would be a liar if he wed another. But how did he tell his da? Twas hopeless to argue for love. Loyalty and duty were paramount.

He had to make him see they had no need to adhere to some backward tradition that forced marriage between strangers. And for what? Land? Silver? Weapons? Meat? Tis not the price of his freedom worth far more than that? He wanted to choose his mate, to explore the brave New World, and to claim a piece of it for the Pack.

His Pack, the Greyback, was plenty wealthy. They had land, cattle, pigs, and bountiful fields of grain. They’d recently started cultivating a crop of potatoes that hailed from the New World.

They could feed their people through the next ten winters without aid. He had no need for that trifle of a dowry the Dungannon had sent with his man. It was a damned pittance!

“Da, you know the Dungannon insults us with that lowly dowry. The lands and money were not what was promised, tis a breach of contract, sir-”

“The dowry is of no import.”

“But da-”

“Son, land and money are not the entirety of it. The Dungannon clan holds sway with Britain and the lords of the Virgin Queen. Tis necessary to protect the Hounds!”

It was true then, just as Eoghan had feared. This match was not personal. Dungannon’s influence in England was what they, the Greyback, with their roots in the Catholic Church and their vows to the Hounds of God, did greatly need. It was a dangerous time for Catholics in Britannia. All the more dangerous for Werewolves who worked for the Church.

No matter how great the deed, no matter how many times the Hounds saved mankind, they were the rivals of many in Britain simply because of their faith. Their strong ties to Rome made them the enemy of the Queen.

The Dungannon, though raised a Catholic, had since converted to Protestant when he took his English wife. Eoghan had no love for the English, but as far as faith was concerned his attitude was, more or less, to each his own.

He was proud to be Catholic. Proud to be associated with the Hounds of God. His duty was to ensure the flourishment of not only Werewolves, but normals too. And what of his wife-to-be? She was half-English, probably Protestant too. Would she look down on him and his Catholic faith?

He would not care either way what religion his wife kept, as long as he loved the lady. But he did not love this maid. He did not even know her. That was the whole of it.

If he needs choose a wife then why not the lady of the wood? Were she the lass he was to wed, then by God, he’d dance all the way down the aisle! He’d take her to wife without hesitation!

A beautiful normal like her would bear many a fine son, no doubt! She was luscious and lively. Definitely fit for the kinds of adventures he had in mind.

He’d never thought about it much before, but many Werewolves preferred normals to wife. Some Packs were strict about that kind of thing. Female Wolves were mostly kept quiet and out of sight. Never was there a highborn lass who was she-Wolf to his knowledge.

Though how they managed that, he did not know. Mayhaps it came from wedding and breeding with so many normals. Either way, he wanted no part of the Dungannon’s daughter.

His mind was set on the mystery maiden who managed to capture his heart with one kiss. He didn’t mind the idea that his lady was not familiar with the supernatural world. Though he imagined it would be a difficult conversation between them.

He was a skilled and trained warrior of his Pack. That would not cease upon taking his vows. Eoghan’s life was fraught with danger.

He was responsible for sending many a Demon back to Hell. And all for a world that would never know his sacrifice. Still, he could protect his own. That much, he was sure of.

“The contract is signed by the Dungannon. There is naught to be done by yer whining here. Now leave me or, by yer sainted mother, I will deliver my wrath upon yer head the likes of which you have never seen.”

“The Dungannon has neglected the terms of the contract! He’s sent not half of what was promised!”

“I know that, son, do ye think me daft? Tis matters not one bit! Ye will meet the Lady Ailis and ye will enter into the handfasting with an honest and loyal heart.”

“But father-”

“That is all. Yer bride comes soon. Ready yerself.”

CHAPTER 2

The hallway that opened to the kitchen stores was doubly wide. It had to be for the cooks and their carts and trays that made their way up and down the path throughout the course of a day. At this hour, however, it was empty, dark, and quiet.

The servants had all gone to bed and the fires had been banked down for the night. Still, it would be just another hour or two before the first wave of kitchen help came to start the morning baking.

They would in turn be followed by another group of servants responsible for the preparation of the vast selection of fowl and game that would be roasted throughout the day. This was the way of such places where hundreds needed to be fed each morning and evening.

Castle MacContire, as the house was affectionately known by members of Greyback Pack and normals in the surrounding villages on their land, was a well-kept stronghold. Indeed, those who knew their truth, called their village Baile na nGascioch Conriochtai, or Village of the Warrior Wolves.

Twas a modern village and a thriving one. All the old timber and sod huts had been replaced in the last hundred years or so with strong and durable stone dwellings. There were two large towers, a stone wall, and several smaller outer buildings. Presently, there were smithies working on the construction of an enormous stone and iron gate.

The design was supposed to praise the Wolves of the Pack and their connection to the Church and God. It was foolish to wave a red flag in the face of that bull of a Tudor monarch, but, though it be a sin, pride was abundant among those who dwelt in Northern Ireland. Wolf or not.

Inside, the castle was opulently decorated with enormous tapestries woven with golden thread. They graced the walls of the great banquet hall and throughout the bedrooms and sitting rooms of the family and honored guests.

The furnishings were just as fine, draped with gold and heavy brocade fabrics. Fine linens made up every bed and they were topped with fur lined blankets. Heavily lacquered tables and benches, as well as sturdy upholstered chairs, were placed throughout to accommodate the number and size of the Pack’s Wolves.

The Castle was especially known for its excellent privies or garderobes. Unlike other castles, where human waste was left for months at a time, the sensitive noses of the Werewolves required them to be emptied and cleaned daily. The Chief of the Name forbade the disposal of human waste in the local streams as well. Overall, the village was fresh smelling and common illness hardly affected any who lived there.

It was a grand place, it’s visage much like the old Irish royal castles across the countryside. Lyall MacContire approved of the buildings. He relished the thought that one day, Castle MacContire and everything inside of it would be his.

He crept across the freshly swept stone floor on leather soled boots. The smells of grain and fresh killed fowl and deer were faint in the air. His Wolf was smallish, but cunning in his senses. It disturbed him that he found no trace of the one he sought. Neither by scent or sound.

The lingering order of the human servants from the village, who came and went daily was still in the air. Some of them lived inside the castle itself. Lyall sneered at the thought, those vermin did not deserve to sleep in the same place where he did.

The present Greyback Alpha, his revered da, took too much care of the local normals. Lyall sneered at the thought of their treatment. Such respect should be reserved for the Werewolves alone.

Twas an absurdity he’d pondered his entire life. He recognized his superiority amongst the beasts that roamed the Earth and aimed to best those who would look down on him as second son. Every single one of them would bow to him. Including that dolt of a brother that he was forced to endure.

That pale-haired oaf was little more than a weapon with a heartbeat. He was all brawn and no brains. Lyall studied and read their histories, even those scrolls taken down in the ancient language of the Celts that many of the Pack had long since forgotten. He studied long and hard. When he brought his findings to his father he was told that the Pack had no room for old stories about deals with Witches and ancient prophecies.

“Why can’t ye take an interest in wrestling and handling a sword like yer brother, eh? Put down those dusty tomes, Lyall, and prove yer worth as a man should! Yer my second son, ye must earn yer place here.”

Lyall retreated into himself after that. He knew he could never best Eoghan in strength, so he began studying even harder to his father’s consternation. As they grew older, Eoghan received all the attention and accolades. That pretty face of his was just another nail in his coffin as far as Lyall was concerned.

Eoghan had been born blessed and lucky, but he had not the brains to attempt the ideals to which Lyall himself aimed. He didn’t deserve his position. The fool would never get the chance to run this Pack. He’d make sure of it. Even if it meant getting in bed with the Devil himself.

He smiled at the thought of his brother’s bloodied corpse hanging from a rope. Even better, his father’s right next to him. The old man had overlooked him far too often for Lyall to feel anything but hostility and rage, but his time would soon come.

He stilled and waited. The person whose audience he sought would know he was there, but there was often the show of making him, second son of the Alpha, wait for her. He rolled his dark eyes. He’d keep up the pretenses for now. The ends were well worth the means after all.

He stood straight, he’d not sully his fine shirt with whatever grime clung to these walls. Lyall frowned at the thought of soot from the kitchen fires blackening the leather soles of his fine made boots. When he was Alpha the floor would be scrubbed thrice daily! Maybe he’d have servants carry around carpets just for him to stand on! Ha! That would be grand!

“Has all been made ready?” A raspy voice sounded in the dark causing him to gasp.

“You are late, lady, I have waited for you some time now.” Lyall straightened his tunic. He did not like being caught unawares.

“Aye, my lord, but what I can give you is worth the wait is it not, he who should be Alpha,” the woman said.

She stepped out of the shadows and Lyall kept his face still. Her dark hair was limp and dull. The bosoms that heaved with each breath over the neckline of her dress were covered in dirt and grime. She stunk of decay, blood, and offal. But all of those were nothing compared to the horror of her face.

The Witch smiled at him, but he managed to keep his disdain inside for he knew it would not please her. She was missing several teeth and what remained were blackened and produced a foul and sickening stench.

One eye was sewn shut, he’d made the mistake of asking about it once, and after she tore out the stitches and showed him the rotting hole she told him that she gave it to her master as offering. So, I may better see the truths of my master, Wolf pup.

“Ye know what I need from ye.”

“Yay verily, I am aware of yer needs.” He swallowed and closed his eyes a second.

“Are ye prepared to give it then?” The grin on her face was as nasty as the rest of her. Lyall tried not to breathe deeply. He nodded his head.

“Aye, I shall give it ye.”

She smiled wide and Lyall backed up a step. This was not going to be an easy feat. The Witch lifted herself onto the side table and pulled up her stained and frayed skirts. She hiked them up over her bruised and scabbed legs to reveal herself to him in a most base manner. Lyall felt his dinner surge in his stomach, but he forced it down.

“Why doth ye tarry, sir? It needs be now. The seed. Now!”

“Don’t talk and for God’s sake don’t smile.” He clenched is teeth as he spoke and reached for the bottom of his tunic.

Twas no use, he was limp and soft as freshly kneaded dough. Damn it all, he cursed himself.

“Well? Find yer manhood, then! The door is closing!”

“Aye, hush now!” Lyall took himself in hand. He closed his eyes and thought of his prize. Riches, land, fame, power, control, his rightful place. Suddenly, his manhood became engorged. He pumped himself a few times to be sure.

“Yes, I will be Alpha. I will be Alpha,” he continued with his mantra until he felt himself harden to the point twas needed. He kept both eyes shut and found the entrance to the Witch’s slit.

“Grrr. I am the rightful son,” he said and impaled the Witch on his staff. Manic with the idea of his own success, Lyall thrust himself into her foul and shriveled body. She was dry and rough and though it pained him, he kept on, ignoring all else.

She cackled deep in her throat and Lyall’s eyes flew open. He muffled his scream on the long sleeves of his leine and tried to pull away, but the Witch’s claws were on his back and he could not move a muscle.

“Nay, wench! Yer eye, tis black as a bottomless hole!”

“As yer soul, now keep at it, pup. Tis yer youthful seed I require, here,” she touched his forehead with her finger and muttered a spell. Where his dick fell limp a moment ago, it once again became hard.

The picture in his head was of a lovely maid with blonde hair and a wet, soft cunny. He pushed himself in and out believing in the besepelled vision, choosing to see the fine lass instead of the foul Dark One. Lyall moaned as pleasure began tingling up his spine. It sickened him, for he knew the truth of it, but he quieted his conscience. He needed to finish his fuck to get what he wanted.

“I will be Alpha!” His final thrust was deep and he poured himself inside of her foulness.

“Tis done,” her gravelly voice echoed in his ears. When he opened his eyes, he was alone in the hallway. His manhood was once again in his hand. Coming from the tip was a thick, putrid, black sludge. He wanted to scream, maybe even to cry, but he bit his tongue.

Lyall’s breath hissed in and out of him. He never felt more physically alive. Elated and disgusted at once. He covered himself with his clothes and quickly left the place.

Twas only a matter of time now.

CHAPTER 3

The road to Tyrone was far more perilous than Ailis Dungannon prepared for. They hit many a hole and rock along the well-worn path through that part of the woods where the heather seemed to bloom year-round and the trees grew tall as mountains.

Twas not a terribly far journey, but an arduous one indeed. They arrived at the gates of the Village of the Warrior Wolves and Castle MacContire at just past midnight.

Ailis felt as though the excursion had lasted a fortnight instead of just a few days. Her stomach turned over itself, nerves ate away whatever measure of composure she had feigned the trip over. She looked to her maid and bit her lower lip. At least she had the comfort of going straight to her rooms.

She was to remain hidden from sight until the ceremony. A surprise for her betrothed as it were. She had no audience with the head of the household upon her arrival. Thank the Lord.

She was shown the way to a handsomely decorated chamber by an older house servant. The slight woman had a mean air about her. She never glanced back or spoke a word, just gave them nasty looks as she walked ahead of Ailis and her own lady’s maid.

When she left them at the door to her chamber, the maid simply held her rather large nose in the air and walked away. Ailis shot a look to Gwinnie who just shrugged.

She opened the door herself and took a walk around the room. It was decorated richly with intricate tapestries depicting the moon in all her phases and a pack of Wolves in a variety of colors from coal black to a brilliant yellow.

Her lady’s maid fetched her a wooden tub and readied pots of hot water for her bath. Ailis enjoyed a nightly bath though many thought she would catch her death. Bathing was a ritual of hers, twas the only time she could take off the harsh scent her father bade her wear.

She used the time in the warm water to ready her mind for what was to come. Afterwards, she lay down in the enormous four-post bed with its thick hanging curtains and its intricate carvings of high Celtic crosses and, of course, Wolves.

Twas beautiful workmanship. The room was a statement, as these things were, of the riches of the household. Clearly, she was highly thought of by the head of the house. If not by the servants.

A thick, feather stuffed mattress sat atop a stronger one filled with straw. Twas covered with soft linen sheets and a fur lined blanket that was done in a rich, heavy fabric dyed a deep blue and embroidered with golden thread. The bed itself was large enough for more than two people and much finer than anything she had back home.

She felt so small just sitting there in her long night shift with her hair loose down her back. Her mind was still reeling from the idea that soon she’d be someone’s wife. If only she knew all that would entail.

Ailis made the sign of the cross and said a quick prayer before diving under the thick blankets. It was cold in the room. Drafty as castles tended to be.

“May the Lord keep you well through the night, my lady,” Gwinnie said as she snuffed out the candle.

“Aye, you too Gwinnie. Tomorrow, we shall see just what it is my father has sold me to.”

“Don’t fret, my lady, all will be well.” She curtsied and retreated to her chamber for the night.

Ailis wished she could put faith in her maid’s words, but after what she’d been through the past few weeks, it was difficult. Her life and everything she knew was about to change yet again. And not necessarily for the better. She closed her eyes and practiced the breathing exercises Gwinnie had taught her.

They were most useful on nights when she missed that internal contact with her Wolf. She said another quick prayer for forgiveness, for she felt none of the shame her father told her she should feel after her first Change. Her heart was sick with the memory of her father’s harsh words to her.

“Nay, it can not be. How couldst thou betray me like this?! False creature! Thou art cursed!”

She’d somehow shamed him, for all she could not control her very nature. He was Werewolf as men should be, but female Wolves were frowned upon. She felt her stomach tightened and closed her yes. The breathing techniques greatly helped her let go of the stress of it all.

She never understood what her father’s Wolves meant when they talked about the waiting. Now she knew. The waiting was what her da’s people called the time in-between moons. When Werewolves were cut off from that other part of themselves, the curse of St. Natalis, as it were.

She was new to being Wolf. Her father’s Pack did not value females for one simple reason. They had a difficult time bearing young. Barren women did not make good matches. Hence his fury when she had her first Change just a few weeks ago.

The MacContire had sent his second son, a shifty smallish man with dark hair and a nasty look about him to their house. He came to visit her father to negotiate the terms of the contract.

She was told to stay hidden, but there were secret places where she could observe and that is what she did. She prayed her husband to be did not resemble his brother, for the man sent shivers of dread up her spine.

On the second day of his visit Ailis had been hiding in the secret hallway watching when she heard him accuse her father of trying to trick them. Her dad had sent less than the promised dowry. Cheap bastard.

The Dungannon was furious to be caught at such a thing. That night he came to her chambers to be sure she hid herself from sight and scent. When she asked him about the dowry he struck her hard across her face.

She did not cry out. She’d not give the brutal man the satisfaction. The next day, for some unknown reason, the second son of the MacContire was swayed to forgive the discrepancy. A bribe no doubt.

Ailis had no feelings on the matter besides relief. She could not stay at her father’s house any longer. When she left he told her one final thing that would secure her hatred for the man who was her father.

“Ye must conceal yer true self, Ailis, for if the marriage fails to go through, I’ll take it out on yer mother’s hide one day at a time.”

Ailis agreed to obey her da, not out of any great love for the woman who bore her, but because she could not bear to be responsible for her mother’s pain.

The delicate woman fled to England when Ailis was quite young. Mary Elizabeth Dungannon was a normal, a human woman. Nothing at all like Ailis.

Her mother was a great beauty. She was soft and curvy, medium height, with lovely dark hair, and bright blue eyes. Ailis inherited the eyes, but that was all she got from the woman.

She did not blame her mother for leaving. The reality of living with a Pack of wild Irish Werewolves was too much for her. There were rules, hierarchies, she simply couldn’t understand.

Ailis was fine without her mother, at least that was what she told herself often when things got too tough for her. She had Gwinnie, who was both teacher and protector. Servants who were female and Wolf were afforded almost the same respect as male Wolves.

It was those in the upper class who were to rise above the Change, her father’s exact words. As if it were a choice she had! Gwinnie was the one who helped Ailis when it was evident her Change was to take place and soon.

She’d heard the call of the moon and went through the agonizing transformation from maid to beast during a night when it was at its fullest. The song in her head was so beautiful she cried thinking about it.

She assumed her Change would mean freedom. Her father would surely toss her out, but no. After his initial rage, he informed Ailis that she was still being shipped off for marriage.

“Cursed ye are, Ailis, but he will still take thee to wed. You will speak of nothing, be hidden from sight, until the ceremony, and ye shall continue to apply this every night after yer bath.”

“But why?”

“Because I command it! Take the bottle, lass.”

“What is in it, father? Makes my eyes sting, it does!”

“Tis a special tincture, a covering scent. It’ll mask yer she-Wolf from the MacContire. Be sure and wear it well, girl, or that mother who whelped me such a wrong bitch as ye are, shall feel pain like ye never imagined possible.”

Her father did not smile when he sent her from his house just days ago. He simply went back to his rooms. Going over the contracts that allowed him to fall under the protection of the mighty Greyback Pack.

That was why he sold his only child. For solid ties to a Wolf Pack whose warriors were renowned for their skill at killing the evil forces who walked the Earth. Fierce warriors indeed.

Her father’s lands were being destroyed by Witches. They cursed the land they sucked dry to fuel their magic. They’d lost countless fields and crops due to their ways. Dungannon needed the Greyback to clear them out.

Ailis shivered in her bed. She was no more than cow sold by her da! Even when he knew twas most likely that, when her husband found out what she was, she’d be killed or imprisoned.

Nightmares of her husband-to-be kept her awake most of the night in the strange house. What was he like? Would he be cruel?

She’d heard tales of women, Werewolves such as she, who were ordered by their husbands to be confined to dark iron cells lined with silver panels, during nights of the full moon. Others were less fortunate, tossed out to become prostitutes or beggars, and some were even killed by beheading or hanged as traitors.

Twas thought unladylike and unlucky for high-born females to Change, undignified for them to run free with the Pack. They were scorned and mocked. Only those who were cuckolded lived to raise she-Wolves. Twas one of the more popular sayings.

Only female servants and some families in trade who Changed were left alone to be what they were. But she, a lady of status, well, she was expected to follow the rules of society. The rules today said Werewolves were to be male only. She-Wolves were uncouth and undesirable.

As if she had a choice in the matter? Nay, but even if I did, Ailis narrowed her eyebrows in defiance, I’d choose Wolf! Damn any man who made her sorry for what she was!

Would her new husband practice such barbarism with her? Would she be chained and locked away when she was just learning what it was to be free? Would he slit her throat one night as her father’s cousin, the Scotsman, Laird McKellen did to his Wolf bride? The stores of her murder were gruesome indeed and McKellen was still on the run.

Ailis cringed as she recalled the sting of her father’s backhand after her first Change. He’d cursed her for what she thought was her greatest gift. The betrayal still stung.

For weeks, she hardly ate or left her room. The night before that next full moon, Ailis watched from her window as rain poured from the sky that whole day. Such a sight it was, why she ran out from the house into the woods just to feel soak into her skin.

Of course, she found more than rain in the woods. She found a man. A poor one by the state of his dress, aye, but he was incredible nonetheless.

He wore only the simplest leine, but his hair was the color of the finest silk ribbon she owned. A pale yellow it shone like moonlight. Was he real? Sometimes she thought she dreamed him.

Most nights, she curled up and shed tears for the memory of their shared kiss. Oh Fie! Fate was a cruel mistress to tease her with such an experience! To have the passion of love shown to you so you were sure it existed, but for far too short a time!

Why did she ever run from him? Foolish lass. She may have missed the only opportunity she’d ever have to feel love. What now for her? What would her future hold? Another man who may see her in irons yet!

She’d surely die if she was locked up in cage! Bless Gwinnie’s heart for telling her the truth of such things. She’d heard similar tales from the wives and daughters of visiting clans and Packs. Her husband-to-be was a warrior and brutal man to be sure.

Why, he was told to have carved the eyes out of six Witches before he hung them and burnt them to cinders and ash! A horror of a man for certain. What will he do when he finds out what she is? She shook her head and bade her brain be quiet. Worrying would do for naught.

Ailis’ dreams that night were loosely woven images of thick iron chains, a ruin of a tower hidden deep in the woods, a black Wolf with a white paw, and silver moonlight shining through a narrow slit of a window. A snarl then, and blood, and at last an ear-piercing howl.

She gasped and jumped up in bed. Just a dream, Ailis, tis only a nightmare of sorts. She looked around at the unfamiliar room. She was in Castle MacContire, she was safe, for now.

The smell of freshly cooked meat invaded her nostrils. Her stomach growled. She saw the tray laden with food on the small table. A jug of thick milk was in the center, her personal favorite.

Some boiled grain and a small round bread near to bursting with dried currants sat next to a plate piled high with steaming slices of meat. Ailis was used to much simpler fare and sighed at her good fortune. She ate the food with an appetite as hearty as any young lad a hundred miles out.

“My lady, ye must not eat so!”

“Tis normal for Werewolves, Gwinnie! I’ve had my Change and find I am most ravenous in the mornings!”

“Nay, lady, do not speak of such!”

“Oh, he will know soon enough. And this may be my last meal as it were, besides, ye must have known I was hungry otherwise you’d have brought naught, but the thick milk and a crust of brown bread on my tray.”

“Aye, my lady, but the handfasting ceremony is tonight! Ye must look yer best!”

“I can assure you, Gwin, I will not go hungry till then,” Ailis tried not to smile in the face of her maid’s horror.

Twas true, ladies were expected to eat less than a bird, but Ailis was no bird. She was a Wolf and she was hungry.

“Ye will be safe, lady, I promise thee. Prithee, allow old Gwin to brush yer hair and braid it. Ye will look so beautiful yer new master wilt have no other thought than to keep you fer his own.”

“Thank ye, Gwinnie, but I think not.”

“But we shall scent you over and hide yer Wolf’s musk from yer lord husband and he’ll not know the difference. Ye must seduce him in bed with yer lady’s wiles then he’ll not be able to live without ye. Now let me to yer hair, miss!”

Gwinnie spoke with a slight bit of demand in her voice. Twas unlike her, but Ailis smiled. She was more than maid, she was a trusted friend and devoutly loyal to her mistress.

Ailis felt tears fill her eyes and felt her throat grow thick. She disguised her sudden emotion with a laugh and her quick tongue as she continued to eat though her stomach suddenly felt full.

“Gwinnie, I shall look well enough. I soaked myself in that tub for an hour last night and scrubbed my hair and skin to a high polish, I did. I even brushed it, but I don’t have a fondness for knots or ribbons today. I’ll thank ye to leave it alone. Nay, no braids! I beg ye, I much prefer it down.”

“But ye must let me! Yer hair, tis so long and unruly when ye leave it down! What kind of seduction wilt thou make looking like a demon?! Yer father sent no laced caul or jeweled hood to cover it either, the scoundrel, oh, what shall they think?”

“Mayhaps I shall cut it off then and worry it no more!” Ailis hid her grin behind her cup and drank the refreshing, tangy milk. She sighed after swallowing it down. Twas brilliant!

“No, please, my lady, tis fine I swear, I shall just braid the sides and ye will still be wanting yer plain veil?”

“If it will stop yer griping then yes, Gwinnie, you may that, indeed.”

Ailis smiled at her lady’s maid and finished her meal. She sat still while the buxom, yet nimble-fingered Gwinnie brushed out her naturally unruly hair and braided each side into long complicated twists before securing them to the back of her head with a bit of ribbon.

The rest of her locks hung down her straight back all the way to her hips in long large curls that were not any one color, but rather a combination of browns, reds, and golds. Some strands so pale they were as silver in the light, like the man from the woods who haunted her dreams, but others dark as slate.

“I will try and make ye respectable, my lady, but ye must know tis a heathen who sits and wears her hair down such as yers!”

“Oh, Gwinnie!” she laughed at her lady’s maid and drank the last from her mug of thick milk. The cool, sour liquid tasted fine going down her throat. A heathen indeed! She was as good a Catholic as any!

To the horror of her English mother, her Irish father refused to have his daughter raised a heretic. Her upbringing was Catholic. The priest of her village saw to her christening and education.

Ailis spent most of her life in seclusion at her father’s house. She longed for those days when she lived beneath her father’s notice. She’d run and play outside all the day long.

A wild thing, that was what Gwinnie called her. Nothing like the lady a proper lord, countrified or not, would allow for a wife. Even should he not discover her secret, he may still prove a wretch. Ailis had worried over her predicament till the wee hours of the morning.

Would he permit her to run barefoot through the wood or swim in the moonlight with naught on but her skin? Would she be allowed to read the plays and poems she brought with her hidden in her trunk under layers of linen and wool? Especially if they were written by an Englishman?

Ailis frowned. Women were property. Twas simply the way of things. Oh, but, how she longed for the freedom that was inherent for man. She wanted to do and say the things on her mind without fear of repercussion. The one and only time she spoke out against her father’s will she was punished severely. But that did not stop her from rebelling in her own ways.

Before her Change, Ailis dreamt of leaving her father’s house, but only for a man who was certain to understand her. She would not be owned. She would have her life. She closed her eyes as the pain that squeezed her chest grew sharp only to abide once more.

She no longer dreamt of happily ever-afters with a knightly prince to take her away from the oppressive house of her father. Nay, now she wondered how her husband would let her live? Would he choose to cage her or would she be killed?

Curse it all! She missed her Wolf, the red-gold furred she-beast who lived inside of her, but was hidden as if in a fog from her during those days that led up to the moon.

“My lady, let’s put yer scent on, then I shall help ye dress.”

“Yea, thank thee, Gwinnie.”

Her father insisted she wear the twenty pounds of stiff perfumed fabric that had been packaged and sent along with her for the ceremony. He had spies everywhere and she dared not disobey him.

She suddenly wanted to leave, to disappear into the woods that surrounded her new prison. She wondered if she could just carelessly fling her responsibilities to the wind.

Was it possible for her to simply vanish on her own? To use her new improved senses to explore the world around her. Much like those who dared to sail across the vast sea to that exotic shore called the New World.

What would her new husband say if she told him she longed to see and hear and taste and touch the world around her on two feet as well as four. Would he think her a heathen? A demon, perhaps?

She bit her lip until she tasted blood. All her wild yearnings would come to naught. There would be no revealing her secret, no exploring the world around her, no poor lad in the woods with whom she could steal another kiss. Ailis exhaled.

She knew all her daydreaming would yield nothing except heartache. Ailis wondered if that fist-sized organ in her chest would ever know happiness. Would she ever know love? She should stop all her foolish wonderings! Poor fool, she sighed again. It would seem Ailis simply could not help herself.

“Oh my, lovely you are! Beauty is a kindness, my lady!”

“Oh, Gwin, I hope tis not the only kindness in Castle MacContire.”

CHAPTER 4

“How long have ye been in yer cups, brother?”

“What is it you want, Lyall?”

“Ah, well for one, father is furious. Tell old Lyall now, what ails ye so this evening? Can it be the beggarly maid you’re betrothed to or is it yer Wolf that plagues yer mind?”

Eoghan raised his head from the scarred wooden table and looked into the dark gray eyes of his younger brother, Lyall. Hmm, he seemed happy, an odd thing for his younger brother.

Eoghan saw no trace of the Wolf within the man. Lyall always was hard to read, but but even more so when it was between moons as it was now. He wished he too had mastered the art of hiding his troubles in public.

Mayhaps he should ask him for lessons in the matter for future reference. Twas too late for now, Eoghan wore his heart and his woes on his sleeve. What a sad and sorry wretch he felt!

“My lord, shall I help ye to yer quarters?”

“Nay, Tom, I shall remain with my brother. Ye may go.”

“Aye, sir.” Tom Kelly had proved a loyal lad and brave too. Eoghan wondered why he stared at them for a moment before heading out the doors to the courtyard.

“You know brother, wallowing in self-pity is not a pretty thing. Even for a Werewolf who looks like Adonis.”

“Oh, shut up, Lyall, I am not in the mood for yer sarcastic comments. Can’t you see my heart is torn asunder?”

“Ah. So, tis the other than? The mystery wench? Perhaps she was of the Coven you destroyed and haunts yer dreams as a form of revenge?”

Eoghan glared at his brother from over the top of his mug. He’d been drinking for three straight hours, but as was the way with Werewolves the ale had little effect. And none that was lasting.

Eoghan took in is brother and wondered at their differences. How was it he had hair as pale and fair as silver while his own brother’s sheared locks were dark as midnight. Like night and day, they were opposite in looks as with dress.

Eoghan favored the plain wool leines and trews of the common folk. He hardly ever wore the mantle his father had bestowed on him. It was a fine cloak of the softest wool dyed and stitched with great care, but Eoghan was a warrior and preferred to dress lightly to assure swift and unobstructed movement.

Lyall dressed to show his wealth and opulence. As if to announce his status to all. There was no doubt in his finely sewn inar and the exaggerated sleeves of his leine that he was the son of the Chief and Alpha.

“Nay, she was no Witch and I’ll have words with any who says otherwise,” Eoghan said.

His growl was fierce. Lyall moved quickly to expose his throat. Indeed, dress was not the only way in which he differed from his older brother. The Wolf in Eoghan knew prey when he saw it. Lyall sneered at the ground and Eoghan turned his head to regain his composure.

“We two have so little in common. That reminds me, I wanted to ask where you got the information on the location of the Coven? Twas quite useful knowledge.”

“A peasant girl told one of my spies that a Witch had passed in the wood where they were discovered. I never meant for ye to go yerself, Eoghan, those were Dungannon lands after all, wasn’t it dangerous?”

Eoghan scowled. His brother was always coming across tidbits of information that proved useful in their search against the Dark Ones. Though Lyall was not a Hound himself, he aided their fight against evil.

“When will ye heed father and join the priesthood, Lyall?”

“Thanks, brother, but thus far, I have resisted the call to serve the Lord. After all, who could be above mine own father in my eyes?”

Eoghan missed the flash of anger in his brother. He agreed with him though. Lyall did not have the temperament for priesthood. He was quick to anger, though his rage displayed itself not in physical challenges, but in more subtle ways.

Eoghan recalled the Wolf who made the mistake of calling his brother a dandy. The man was assigned to clean the garderobes for six straight months.

The typical time for that particular duty was no more than a fortnight per assignment for all members of the Pack. But Lyall kept the ledgers and told the foremen who was to work which detail. Twas only when Eoghan became aware of it, did he order the lad to another post. An error, Lyall had said.

“The danger came not from the Witches, but from the wondrous maiden who stepped softly through the woods like an angel on Earth. She stole my heart, I swear it, brother, and I am to wed another. Curse me for a fool!”

“Ease your mind, now, perhaps father would be willing to change his mind.”

“Nay, he cares not for my ordeal.”

“Let me think on it then, man, perhaps I can help.”

Eoghan grasped his brother’s shoulder and squeezed though he feared there was naught he could do to sway their da’s mind. We are so different, he thought. Lyall believed he could influence their father where Eoghan knew there was little chance of that.

Lyall’s dark hair gleamed in the dim firelight. He was smallish for a male Werewolf. Thin and slight despite is long sleeved leine and puffed inar. He lacked the physical prowess to fight his way to the top of the Pack, and so Lyall leaned heavily on his status to exert influence among others. He was cunning in the ways of man and court.

Eoghan had no use for such things. His father used to joke that he was born more Wolf than man. His only desire to run free. When they were pups, Eoghan often reveled in exerting dominance and strength over his younger brother. He competed against any who would rise to the challenge and won many a fight on their training grounds.

“If my position in the Pack was as secure as yours, mayhaps I would not listen to father.”

“Oh, Lyall, ye don’t understand. I am father’s oidhre, his heir, by blood and by dominance. Tis I who must obey the most, for all watch me and act as I do.”

“Mayhaps a challenge then?”

“Nay! How could ye think it? I’d never harm father, if I even could. He is much loved by all. His sons included!”

“Yea, tis true.”

“Father has a grace and dignity reserved for very few in his position and yet he is much respected by his men and the Pack. Nay, I would die for father, I’d never dream of challenging him. I admit I am surprised ye would suggest it.”

“Aye, forget it. I just hate to see you so pained.”

Eoghan’s reputation for being good and brave was almost as well known as his fair face. His brother was not as easily trusted among the men. These days he shut down rumors about Lyall with little more than a look.

His mother bade him on her deathbed to watch her second son. He readily agreed as he saw how anxious it made her. Werewolves were naturally attuned to body language. Eoghan was no exception, but his brother was not so easily understood.

Eoghan chalked it up to differences in their nature. He was a leader of Wolves, both Pack and Hound. Lyall was a scholar.

He marched into battle with them against their true enemies. The Dark Witches and Demons who sought to rule the world. Lyall studied law and kept the Pack finances in order.

The destructive ways of the Dark Witches caused chaos, disease, and famine. The last fifty years had been filled with political and religious unrest across all of Britain. It was just the type of atmosphere those devils flourished in.

Sometimes hiding in plain site, even taking the role of village priest or counsel. Eoghan was their judge, jury, and executioner. He’d been tasked by his da to hunt the Demons and burn the Witches who dared practice on their lands. He did so with pleasure in the name of the Almighty and for the security of his Pack.

His little brother was more bookish and less warrior. He studied ancient texts and worked as chief negotiator for his father. Though lately, he’d not been seen at many of the trade meetings and business dealings that took place on MacContire land.

Eoghan proved long ago he was the better warrior of the two of them. He was a valued fighter, the heir to his father’s seat as Alpha and Chief of the Name, and the single most sought-after man in the entire county. Everything was his, and yet sometimes he envied Lyall.

He was fond of him. His sly and sarcastic younger brother was free to chose his life be it as priest, husband, lawyer, what have ye. Sure, he spent his days with scroll or book in hand, but twas his choice to do so.

Eoghan cared little for the written word. He was more a man of action. Though, truth be told, he enjoyed the odd group of players who passed their village every now and again. Especially the wenches who travelled with them.

He looked at his brother’s unsmiling face and frowned. Lyall was handsome in his way. When had Eoghan last seen him with a lass or two? Why, was his saintly brother too good for the company of the village wenches?

“Tell me Lyall, why is it that yer always alone with a ledger in hand and never with a young miss on yer arm?”

“I have things of more import to whittle away my time, and besides, you are the one who is fair of face. You’ve had many of the village wenches and yet you long for one who for all ye know could have been a figment of yer imagination. Ha!”

Eoghan missed the fire in Lyall’s eyes as he tossed back the rest of the thick brew in his mug. Still he sympathized with him. It could not be easy for the lad being the second son. Eoghan would inherit all and Lyall, well, he was left to work for him.

“I drink to yer freedom, Lyall, may ye never waste it.”

Too many chains came with Eoghan’s position in the Pack. Lyall, bless his heart, would have naught to worry his dark head over. One thing he vowed upon his life, Eoghan would always take care of his brother. Blood was blood.

“Is it freedom ye long for? I fear ye shall be free when ye are dead, brother, so do not worry now,” Lyall reached forward and poured more dark ale into Eoghan’s mug.

“Aye. To death! Ha!” Eoghan’s laughter echoed through the hall and Lyall narrowed his eyes.

“Tis really worth the trouble of drowning yerself in ale??”

“You know damn well it is! I must marry the Dungannon lass.”

“Is that all?”

“Is that all?! Are ye daft? Tis agony! It pains my heart thus!”

“Eoghan, mayhaps you should find some means to soother yer troubled heart?” Lyall reached for the arm of the hearty maid who’d been strutting past him for the past hour. He gave her buxom figure a generous squeeze and whispered in her ear whilst she giggled.

“Do not trouble yerself so, Eoghan, marrying the lass is easy. She’ll not interfere much. Ye can search for the other when the vows are said, after all, there is naught she can do to stop you, is there?”

Eoghan watched his brother with lifted eyebrow. Lyall continued to hold the wench in one strong arm while he licked the side of her neck and, wait, did he just bite her? She squealed and pushed at him, but he was immovable.

He reached up her skirts in view of all in the place. Twas most unlike him. Eoghan frowned. Whatever Lyall was about, the maid looked scared and cried aloud.

Eoghan was about to intervene, but suddenly, Lyall released her. She hurried off, wiping her eyes as she fled. Mayhap Eoghan needed to discuss the occurrence with Lyall, but he was distracted by his brother’s words.

“Don’t forget Eoghan that twas I who met with the Dungannon on yer and father’s behalf. On father’s orders, of course. The cut in dowry was necessary I am afraid, but the maiden is pure and fresh, a normal and a virgin! Our own priest had it from her maid and surgeon.”

“That is fine for her. At this point I’d not care whether she be Wolf, Dog or Bear!”

“What say you? Are ye daft? A normal who knows about Wolves and understands the way of things? Tis a blessing!”

“Aye, Lyall, but what of the rest of her? Is she intelligent? Is she kind? Thoughtful? Does she have good humor?”

“Ye mean how does she fair in looks?”

“Tis of no import. There is but one maid I can see in my mind.”

“Well, come to think of it, she was veiled when I saw her, but her form was very comely. She was neither too plump nor too thin.”

“Oh, that’s reassuring!”

“Worry not, fair brother, worry not. I have it on the best authority that you will have all that is yer due.”

Lyall grunted when Eoghan clapped him on the shoulder, and stood to leave. Whatever was wrong with Lyall, Eoghan had little time for it now. He wished he could bury his sorrows somehow, but it was time for him to act a man.

He was promised and, though he had not made the vow himself, it was just as sacred. He would forget the lady of the woods and prepare himself for his marriage.

He hastened to the chapel and sought prayer and solitude. Perhaps he’d find the answer there. If not, there was always the training grounds. Hmm. Perhaps he’d go there first.

CHAPTER 5

Eoghan stared at his father with a look of disbelief on his face. Twas bad enough he was betrothed where his heart had no currency. Was he to play the fool now as well and marry a faceless bride?

“What do you mean she wishes to be veiled throughout the ceremony and the feast afterwards?”

“As I understand it, the lady wishes to wear a veil so you are persuaded by no other outside force, only the strength of yer word and yer commitment to make good yer oath and proceed with this match.”

“I will keep my word or yers as it were, father! Does the Dungannon question my honor?”

“Tis done, Eoghan, calm yerself. She will wear the veil.”

“Nay, I’ll not-”

The altercation between father and son continued with silent growls and even a bit of posturing. Werewolves tended to be quite keen on displays of power and the younger Eoghan MacContire was no exception.

What he did not know, was that Lyall sat in the corner with his head down as his brother and father growled across his father’s sitting room. A wicked grin spread across his pale face with both none the wiser.

His plans were going exceedingly well. His pact with the Dark Witch working as she said it would. What was it she told him after he spilled his seed inside of her foul body that cursed night? Ah yes, he recalled her raspy voice in his ear before she vanished from the empty corridor.

“Now to feed the spell with yer seed, I cast this night and ye shall watch it unfold as I tell it now. Strife will sow between first son and father, the veiled bride shall be wed, she must not be unmasked, and ye will rise from yer station to that which is yer heart’s desire. Heed me, the Wolf Bride must ne’er take off her veil in his sights or all will be lost.”

It seemed as if Lyall would not have to lift a finger. His father already agreed the lady would be veiled and his brother, well, he’d have no say in the matter. Everything was going according to plan. He turned his dark head to see his father order both his sons out of the room. Soon, old man, it will be me in command and all will obey my word! Soon.

“Tis done, be gone with ye both!”

At their father’s dismissal both brothers stalked off from the room. Eoghan’s hands were clenched into fists. He was anxious after all that had taken place.

“I’d like to dip my head in a vat of uisce beatha for all that man does not listen!” Eoghan pushed his golden locks out of his face and exhaled.

Lyall noted that his eyes were glowing an icy blue that was almost white in color. The same color they were when he was Wolf. He must have been angrier than he knew. He was careful no to look directly at Eoghan.

He didn’t need to scuffle with his older sibling. Physical prowess was not the means by which he’d win his right to Alpha. Nay, he had more brains than that. Eoghan in a state would beat the tar out of him and he knew it. Best to lighten his mood altogether.

“Come, brother, let us find yer whiskey! Ye shall need yer courage to wed a masked lady, perhaps a little something else to take the edge off as well.”

“Nay, I’ll take whiskey only. I’ve had my fill of wenches as of late. First, a mystery woman in the woods and, now, a masked bride.”

“Yes, I wonder why father allowed it,” Lyall agreed.

“Can you imagine? A veil? For what purpose? Does she hide a scar? Is she disfigured in some way? Is she just another English patsy in our midst to try and cure me of my Roman affiliations and plan to bid me as dog to her queen?”

“Perhaps it is just she has more than nineteen summers and wishes to hide her age from you, brother!”

“Yer the one who had dealings with Dungannon! Did ye not get one good look at the lass?” Eoghan shoved Lyall playfully as the pair went down the hall in search of their sustenance.

“Nay, she was kept from mine eyes, but he assured me she is all the things a wife should be!” Lyall wiped that part of his tunic that Eoghan wrinkled with his push.

He could barely contain his snarl, but again was too intelligent to challenge his brother outright. Nay, be still. He tried to focus on Eoghan’s words.

What did he ask again? Ah! Twas true he visited the Dungannon a fortnight ago to finish the terms of the betrothal contract. Lyall volunteered for the mission as it were, much to the surprise of his father.

The old fool thought he was taking an interest in becoming Eoghan’s bloody secretary! The insinuation enraged him to no end.

Soon he’d be the one in charge and not some lackey! Before his journey to Dungannon lands, Lyall met with the Dark Witch. She led him to believe that the lady betrothed to his brother was not the English miss her father spoke of. Nay, she was just a common bitch.

A fine match for his pig of a brother! Ha! She told him to sweeten the deal with the Dungannon and Lyall heeded her words. Her powers, whatever they were, best be worth it. Lyall could hardly piss worth a damn since his cock entered her wretched slit.

Twas the price he paid for his kingdom and he’d likely do it again, he reminded himself. Lost in his own thoughts, Eoghan missed the malice hidden behind his brother’s dark coal eyes.

“Come let us drown yer sorrows in a jug of golden whiskey,” Lyall’s tongue was honeyed and sweet as he poured jar after jar for his fair-haired brother.

“One more for strength, yes?”

“Nay! I am done! And you, when shall ye trade yer milk for this then?”

Lyall smiled his serpentine grin and shook his head. Eoghan failed to notice the powdery substance his brother added to his beverage time and again. A half an hour later and the effects were evident.

“Lyall, I feel ill, Ly-” His blonde head hit the wooden table with a thump.

Lyall sneered and slapped his brother across the face. He moved to repeat his action, but a servant, his servant, interrupted. He was a sniveling wretch, but he kept Lyall’s secrets and was paid well for the trouble.

“Take this note to my father,” he took a rolled letter from out of his sleeve and lifted Eoghan’s hand, it was imperative that his scent be on the paper.

“It seems my brother is well and happy to marry the Dungannon lass on the morrow. May he be damned for all the remainder of his days and may those days be brief!” He spat on his brother’s sleeping form and thrust the missive at the servant.

“Aye, sir.”

Lyall’s head snapped round and he bared his teeth at the wretch before him.

“Pardon, I mean, my lord, of course.”

“Tis best you remember that, boy. Now wait upon my word. As for you, brother mine, for once in yer perfect life I’ve the upper hand. Come now, tis time for you to wake!” Lyall lifted the jug of whiskey and splashed it across Eoghan’s face.

Werewolves metabolized potions and poisons far quicker than normals. He had roughly a minute or two before his brother would awaken.

“Oy, what is this? My head throbs murderously.”

“Nay, tis only yer nerves. Come, go and bathe. Yer betrothal shall be announced and ye shall make yer promise to the lass among all soon enough. Now, I’ll get a servant to fetch some water.”

Some time later…

Eoghan stood up too quickly. He sipped from the jug of water Lyall’s man had fetched for him, but the water was too tepid for his tastes. The slow thud that plaguing his brain suddenly peaked and he howled his pain.

“How dost thou fare?”

“What brew was in this cup? Lyall! What time is it?”

“It is almost time for the ceremony! Come you must bathe and dress the part,” Lyall was immaculate in his finely stitched wool. His dark hair gleamed and his shoes were polished.

Eoghan looked like a commoner in comparison. Even his mouth felt mealy and sick. He took a long swallow from a mug of fresh water and spit it into a waiting bowl.

“Ugh, I feel I’ve been bespelled by some Witch or Devil!”

“Come Now, in our house? Who would dare such a thing? Tis husbandly nerves is all.”

Eoghan wiped his face with a square of cloth and followed his brother to his chambers. He needed to at least dress the part or his father would have his hide for a rug. He would wear the traditional leine of his clan.

His affluence would be recognizable in both the fine dying of the wool with saffron till it shone as yellow as his hair. Golden thread embroidered the hem and sleeves, it sparkled in the sunlight. His inar was a red-brown color and fit tightly over his broad chest. Hundreds of small pleats were neatly stitched and ironed into the soft wool.

It was further decorated with the crest of his family, the MacContire, it depicted a Wolf, head thrust back mid-howl and claw raised. His clan were warriors. The crest was ancient with few modern touches. The newest addition was a high Celtic cross behind the Wolf.

It signified their clan’s loyalty to the Hounds of God, and the Werewolf blood that kept them strong. Though normals had no idea the MacContire were actually more beast than man.

Eoghan was proud of his crest. Proud of his land. Of his people. He was both Wolf and Hound. Warrior and heir to the Pack. Eoghan may not want to marry the English miss, but he would at that. Honor was everything.

The handfasting would soon begin, and he would go to his betrothed in the dress of his people. Twas the custom of both his Irish and Werewolf descendants. The Catholic priest overseeing the match agreed that their ancient custom would be honored. The real marriage ceremony, the legally binding one, would not be held for weeks.

Many things could happen in that time. Eoghan wondered if the lass fancied taking herself to London after the ceremony, as her English mother before her did.

His dark eyes narrowed. He’d not allow it. She could just as well forget her fancy notions of English life. No sir, not here. She was in the wilds of Ireland. His home. And he was the only master he’d tolerate in his house.

Betrothals aside. Eoghan was a man. He intended to get a few things straight with his bride before the ceremony.

CHAPTER 6

“Gwinnie, is that you? Just come in then and help me with my laces!”

Ailis was bent over the side of the bed. She attempted to retrieve her sleeve from the floor, but the cumbersome skirts of her English dress were simply too big for her. Especially unlaced as they were now.

Whatever her mother had assured her about fashion, she felt large as three people in the multi-layered skirts that would go under the gown itself. The dark green color was fetching and all, but she didn’t even have it on yet and already the dress weighed a ton. She was not even certain of all the pieces.

There were several underskirts on top of the thin chemise she wore. An outer gown with hard pieces of bone sewn inside, a stiff collar, separate sleeves, wool stockings, and the veil her father insisted she wear, made up the rest. The gown itself was heavily embroidered with silvery thread and brocade adornments.

Ailis wondered if she’d look as ridiculous as she felt. If only she could wear the much simpler gowns she was used to wearing at home. But this ceremony was about more than her comfort. It was about power and standing.

She was the currency her father used to buy his good standing in County Tyrone. And now I go from one man’s rule to another’s. Will I never be free?

What was taking her lady’s maid so long? She could not even put on the outer gown without her help. She turned around at the sound of footsteps.

“Gwi- Ooh, you, you leave this room at once!” Ailis shrieked at the tall man standing in her doorway.

She was very aware of the fact that an indecent amount of her breasts and shoulders were on display. She wanted to cover them and hide, but something told her she’d never outrun the brute. He was big as an ox and took up most of the space of the large doorway.

His dark eyes seemed to eat every inch of her exposed skin and she fought not to shield herself from his sight with her hands. Instead, she stood tall and straight, after all she was well over five foot five inches at her full height.

She looked down her straight nose at him with clear blue eyes. A difficult feat since he was at least ten inches taller than she. Still, she managed it.

“I said leave here, sir. Can ye not see that I am not dressed yet?”

“Indeed, I see that and more, lady, tis the reason I can not look away.”

Ailis blue eyes widened. She’d never been addressed in such a way before. And by a man! Her heart sped up in her chest as he continued his thorough perusal.

“Wondrous and lovely, thou art, lady, forgive the intrusion,” his eyes that had been dark a moment ago suddenly shone a light blue and Ailis stepped back.

He stared at her face for one moment before recognition spread across each of them. Tis cannot be? And what she, a servant then? For she is undone in my eyes and puts her mistresses gown out on the bed.

“Tis you! The lady of the wood! I am pleased to see you are well,” Eoghan’s words were calm, but inside he felt anything but.

“Oh my! Tis you as well! But how? Is MacContire yer master?”

“Yea, lady, he is.” Twas not a lie. His father was the MacContire still and Eoghan was his servant above all else. What mad God resided in Heaven that He would send temptation on the day of his handfasting?

“I have thought about you all the days since our last meeting. Yer face has haunted my dreams, lady. Do I ever cross yer mind, I wonder?”

“I should not speak of such things, sir.”

“Why not? Ye are here now, woman, but I’ve dreamt of you here so often that I question if yer real or not.”

“I am real, sir. I confess, you have been in my dreams as well.”

“Have I, now?” He asked and stepped further into her room. He closed the door behind him.

Ailis stood her ground and watched the man with hair as gold and light as the sunshine itself walk towards her. Her heart thudded in her chest.

Her stomach tightened as he approached. It was as if all her nerves were standing at attention. She looked down, feeling her Wolf surge forward. She must needs keep that secret! She was almost grateful for the heavy scent Gwinnie had insisted she put on before she left to fetch some food for Ailis.

“I have wondered about ye. Prithee, lass, may I have yer name?”

“For what purpose, sir, tis nothing can come of this. Ye must go now.”

“Do not send me away, not before I’ve had a taste of ye. By my eyes, I feel as if my soul has been sieged upon just by the sight of you.”

Ailis raised a hand to her throat. Was it possible to fall in love in a blink of an eye? She inhaled and a sea of fragrance assailed her nostrils.

Salt of the earth, a pure musky scent, accompanied by fields of heather, golden sunshine, the wind and more. He was all those things. Earth and heaven combined. And Wolf. She smelled that too. Mayhaps he was of her new Pack?

Wolf and servant, maybe, but one thing she knew for certain, she’d never seen a man as fair. And yet he reeked of masculinity. His simple Irish dress only made him more appealing. She bit her lip and was shocked when his eyes zeroed in on the action. He moved forward.

“If that needs doing, I beg you, leave me the honor?” He stepped forward. His big body wrapped around hers. Heat seeped through the fabric of her dress into her skin and Ailis sighed. She felt incredibly small and protected.

She leaned into his strength and tipped her head back for him. She knew all the reasons she shouldn’t allow this, but for once in her life she knew what she wanted. If she was to be given to a man she didn’t even know like she was naught but cattle, then Ailis would not spurn an opportunity to taste true love.

Her body tingled in anticipation as he leaned down and covered her mouth with his own. She tasted the faint remnants of whiskey and something else that was very sweet and fleeting on his breath.

After that it was all him. That earthy Wolf scent that was sweeter on her lips than honey. This kiss was even better than the first.

“Sweet, I need you,” he crushed her breasts to his chest and Ailis was lost. Heat pooled in her belly and her heart raced as he continued his exploration of her mouth.

Instinctively, she wrapped her arms about him and tipped her head back further as his lips left hers to trail kisses down her neck and throat, all the way to the deliciously exposed flesh of breasts.

He was her other half. She knew it instinctively. Every touch, every caress, as if he knew exactly where she needed to feel him.

He reached for her skirts and she allowed it. The feel of his hard body making her burn with curiosity and desire. He stroked her thighs and she sucked in a breath.

It was as if a huge void she never realized she had, opened deep inside of her. The empty hollows of her being were howling to be filled. By him. Only him. Mine.

Their kiss was not just a joining of lips, it was a communion of like souls. Recognition stirred on the edges of her consciousness. Their lips met, tender and sweet, with long curious strokes of their tongues. Quickly, it became something more. Something urgent and hurried.

“I must have you, I am mad for you, lass. What say ye?”

“Sir, I’ve never felt such a rush of excitement. Tis deep in my blood. A raging fire that hungers for you, will you satiate me?”

“As if my life depended on it, lady,” he freed her breast from its scanty confines and took the plump nipple in his mouth.

Ailis bucked against him as he suckled the pebbled nipple. His hand moved under her skirt towards the juncture of her thighs. He parted her tender skin and did things she’d never dreamed possible.

He stroked and dipped with subtle masterful movements. Ailis shuddered and her stomach clenched as he gently parted her curls and with one thick finger pushed inside of her.

Ailis moved a little out of reach and held his wrist. Fear and excitement battled within her. Should she push his hand away?

A tremble shook her body. As she debated with herself, he lowered himself to the ground in front of her. She gazed into his beautiful face before speaking.

“What are ye doing?”

He knelt on the floor and gently pushed her backwards onto the bed. He smiled up at her. Like a Wolf.

A predator, indeed, as he inched her skirts up around her knees, then her thighs. He lifted her ankles and placed them on his broad shoulders. She made to sit up, but he gently held her in place with one large hand flat against her stomach.

“Trust me, lass, I’m only going to taste ye.”

“Taste me?”

“Aye, yer sweet as honey, I’d swear it. I’m ravenous for you, my lady.”

He lifted her skirts until she was quite bare in front of him. Ailis felt as if her body was aflame. Shame warred with curiosity. What would Gwinnie say?

Then his hands stroked her thighs and that place where she was most feminine. She exhaled and leaned back against the cushions. Trusting him to do her no harm. Then, her fair-haired lover dipped his head and kissed her.

Ailis felt as if her whole body had ignited. And that was only the beginning. His long tongue snaked out of his mouth and brushed across her sensitive nether lips. Inciting passions to heights she never dreamed existed. Ailis bucked against him. Unsure of the sensations that were taking control of her body.

“Oh, I feel things I fear I should not. Tis a sin, surely!”

“I promise there is nothing sinful about you. Let me worship yer body, lady, as I do in my heart.”

He dipped his head again and suckled on that tiny nub that seemed to control her every feeling. Ailis stuck a hand in her mouth to keep from crying out as sensation after sensation overwhelmed her to the point where she thought she’d explode.

And then she did. By the time she opened her eyes the man of the wood was kissing her breast and then her mouth. She felt something big and hard against her slick folds and she knew what was about to happen. She welcomed it.

“Are you sure, lass, I can not undo it once it is done.”

“Yea, sir, for wherever I be tomorrow I am with ye now.”

He growled in his throat and thrust past the barrier that held her intact. The Wolf in him surged forward. Icy blue eyes glowed from his head as he bit down on her shoulder.

He impaled her on his long, hard shaft and Ailis reveled in the tingling sensations that ran through her body. His accompanying groan was loud in her ear. A sound so deep and guttural it was akin to pain.

Ailis sucked in a breath. It hurt but for a brief, fleeting second. Once he moved inside of her again the pain lessened. He thrust his hips with detailed precision and she soon found herself riding another wave of pleasure unlike any her untried body ever felt.

“I feel everything new,” she held his face in her hands and kissed him as he drove into her.

Her muscles tightened as she felt that same dizzying feeling come over her again only this time she knew he was feeling it too. Sensation after sensation exploded inside of her body until it reached a pinnacle.

She moaned and scratched her nails down his back. She almost didn’t here his possessive words as he spilled his hot seed inside of her, filling her and causing no end of pleasure.

“Mine,” he growled.

Ailis gasped for breath. She never felt so complete in her life. She stroked the silvery gold locks of his hair back and kissed his head.

“By God’s eyes, what have I done?”

“Only what I wanted you to, sir.”

“Still, sir, am I? Shall we not call each other by our names now?”

“I agree I am compelled, but let us keep this secret.” Ailis spoke through tears that misted her eyes and made her voice thick with sadness.

“I fear I shall never be the same again.”

“Nor I.”

Eoghan stared at the maid in the bed and kissed her sweet lips before helping his lady fix her disheveled clothing. He knew the instant he spied her who she was. His lady of the wood.

Though her hair was different, he recognized her instantly. She was beautiful as he remembered. Only now he knew her hair was a multitude of colors from ash brown and reddish-gold, to a silvery-blonde pale as his own. The color having been unrecognizable in the rain upon their first meeting.

He’d not been able to control himself. He needed her. What have I done? Guilt warred with pride as Eoghan took in what had just happened.

His head was no longer pounding, his stomach felt slightly queasy, and his heart thudded inside of his chest. This was no common conquest. He was sure of it.

What was she doing here? She must be a new servant or lady’s maid. His bad luck, she was maid to his betrothed!

The idea left him sick to his stomach. He wanted no one, except this lass. He’d have to tell his father immediately.

He felt his Wolf surge forward and knew that she was his. Mine. The need to protect her and claim her again were overwhelmingly strong.

“Thou art lovely.”

“As are you.”

“Ha! I am glad you find me so, lady mine.”

“I will remember you better, sir, in my dreams now that I have seen you again. I am sorry this is goodbye.”

“Nay, I shall find a way for us. Promise me you will wait.”

“You do not understand. I am not my own to promise.”

“Whatever price yer father sets, I shall pay it.”

“Tis not dowry or payment that separate us.”

“I mean to make you mine.”

“I can not.” Her tears were nearly his undoing. He wanted to scream in rage.

“I promise to make this right.”

Eoghan cursed as the Church bells chimed the hour. He had little time left. He needed to dress first then he would see his father.

“Prithee, believe my words. I shall be back for ye.”

Eoghan left the room like a man ready to throw down and face Hell. Surely, that was what his father would send him to once he told him his plans to wed a common girl!

“Brother! Come tis time you dressed for the ceremony, where have ye been?” Lyall waylaid him on the way to his chambers, but Eoghan planned to see his father first.

“Nay, I need an audience with father.”

“He is with the priest now, dress first, please brother, or he’ll be in no mood to hear ye!”

“Ah! You are right! Fine, but quickly then.”

Eoghan hurried to his chamber with Lyall on his heels. Breaking a contract would not be easy, but he was determined to risk all for his heart’s desire. The lady of the wood was here and he knew in his heart she was the only one for him.

His mate for life. Mine.

CHAPTER 7

“Calm yerself,” Lyall could barely contain his brother as they waited in the hall to speak with their father.

“I can not wait, Lyall.”

“There is little choice but to wait. What has brought ye to this state?”

Eoghan ignored the question and paced back and forth. He stopped suddenly. As if he felt a certain something, a presence, behind him. When he turned his face was unreadable.

A lady in a fine green gown with rich brocade adornments stood at the end of the long hallway. She was familiar somehow though her face and hair were covered from his eyes with a heavy veil. Her head was bowed so he was sure she did not see him.

Her lady’s maid stepped forward. A buxom wench with sharp eyes and a haughty air. What is this? If she be the maid, then who is the lady?

“Tis yer betrothed,” Lyall sneered in his brother’s ear. If Eoghan didn’t know better he’d think his brother was laughing at him.

As it were, he was too preoccupied with pondering the identity of the veiled lady to pay any heed to his younger sibling. The lady stepped forward.

She raised her head hesitantly under the opaque fabric. Once she did, her head shot up and down. She gasped and Eoghan understood entirely. He shrugged off his brother’s arm just as the priest and his father strode down the hall.

“Ah, my boy, my lady, we are all gathered! Wonderful! Let us commence.”

Before Eoghan could reach her, his father had him by the arm and brought him inside the doors to down the aisle, to a podium where, now, stood the priest.

“Why dost thou smile so, forget ye are to be hand fasted to a masked thing? This only enforces the conclusion that ye and she shall wed, Eoghan!”

“Nay, I do not forget, Lyall, mayhaps I even look forward to it!”

“What-”

“May I present the Lady Dungannon,” the MacContire, Eoghan’s da, raised his hand and the Lady progressed slowly to the front of the room.

Her lady’s maid led the way, she was stern looking and raised an eyebrow at Eoghan. He imagined she knew of his, er, earlier indiscretions and he bowed slightly to her out of respect for so well guarding his lady. And she was his. Finally! Mine.

A few more people settled inside, Pack members and such, but Eoghan only had eyes for his veiled bride. Her scent was still masked by the perfume she wore and yet he could find not fault with it. It was nice enough, though it hid her from him much like the mask she wore.

The priest had them join their hands. The MacContire took out a gold threaded length of silk with which he bound them. Next, he presented a ring to the priest who mumbled some Latin over it to bless and sanctify the handfasting, Eoghan assumed.

The metal was pale like silver. It was engraved with ageless runes sacred to the Pack. In the center was an enormous blue sapphire. The MacContire Stone.

Ailis heard tell of the precious ring. It was hundreds of years old and passed down to each female Alpha of the line. Tears welled up in her eyes as the man she was betrothed to, the one she had given her body and soul to, slid it onto her finger. She hardly heard anything the priest said.

“We are bound to each other then?” It sounded like a question to her, but when she looked from priest to betrothed she realized something had happened when she was daydreaming.

“I must see you,” despite the gasps he removed her veil to see her face and his smile was like the sun coming out!

“But this is just the handfasting?”

“Nay, I have sanctified this union in the presence of the Lord, ye two are wed!” exclaimed the priest.

Both bride and groom looked from one to the other. Their feelings masked behind surprise. Tension was thick in the air.

Lyall stood, a nasty smile on his face, just to the side of them. But when he saw Eoghan’s own expression lighten, he grew angry.

“Did ye not hear? You two are married!”

“Yea, I heard though I don’t know how or why tis so all I know is I am truly blessed, brother, for this is my lady,” he leaned down and kissed her on the mouth to everyone’s astonishment.

“Tis true, my lord?” Ailis looked into the face of her husband and tears of joy slipped past her eyes and rolled down her pale cheeks. She was lovely as ever.

“Aye, wife,” Eoghan brushed the wetness from her face and kissed her cheeks then her lips again. His father slapped him on the back and laughed.

“What? But, but she was veiled? You did not know her?”

“Brother, don’t you see, I have known her for eternity! She is mine own true mate!”

“Tis true, sir, I have met my husband before, in the wood.”

“You mean, you, a high-born lady, was traipsing about the wood like a common wench?”

“Careful Lyall,” Eoghan moved to block Ailis and bared his teeth at his brother. When he faced him though, he found he no longer recognized his sibling.

Lyall’s face was contorted with rage. He looked at Ailis and then at Eoghan and snarled before taking a long sharp knife out of his waistband.

“Out everyone! We’ve family thigs to attend here,” The MacContire’s command was obeyed by all except an old woman who stood at the back.

Priests and villagers all left, but she walked to the back door and raised her left hand. She muttered something Eoghan could not here. He watched in horror as she thick, black ropes of magic poured from her fingers and locked the door.

“Witch! Be gone from here!” His father yelled.

The Witch cackled and turned around to reveal a hideous mockery of a smile. She was missing several teeth and what was left were rotted black and stunk up the room.

Her skin was pock-marked and sallow. She raised a hand to Eoghan’s father and with a swipe the Alpha was overcome! He sank to the floor.

“What is this? I never said I wanted to harm father!”

“Of course, ye wanted to harm father! How else might ye be Alpha? Now grab the bitch!”

“Do not touch her, Lyall! As for ye, Witch, I’ll end you the now!”

“I think not, pup! Yer brother is mine and in my debt! He will do what he can to secure his position. A greedy bastard he may be, but then again yer mother would know all about that, wouldn’t she?”

“What say ye about our mother?” Eoghan growled and his da groaned from his position on the floor.

“Tis no MacContire there, I assure ye. Lyall is the bastard son of the mercenary soldier who raped yer mother when the village was invaded by the English nigh on thirty years ago. Tis the truth, ask the MacContire!”

“What? Art thou saying I am a bastard, Witch?” Lyall stuttered, but held firm to the knife in his hand. Eoghan moved to help his father who had juts fallen to the floor when Lyall screamed his fury.

He turned to shield Ailis, but Lyall had her. His knife pointed to her pale throat. She looked at him with fear brimming in her wide blue eyes and he felt all the rage inside of him desperate to take shape. If only twas the night of the full moon!

“You deceived me, Witch!”

“Nay, I saved you. Now you’ve the bitch come to me, we must away.”

“Is it true, am I what she says I am?”

“Son, she is a lying foul mou- Ahhhh!” the MacContire groaned as the Witch hit him wit another spell. Eoghan leapt to his feet. He could not believe the betrayal before his very eyes. His own brother. But why?

“Back away, Eoghan!” Lyall held the blade at Ailis’ throat. She gulped and looked to him for aid, but he was helpless. Eoghan could barely contain his growl.

“She has you bespelled, Lyall. We do not side with the Dark Ones! Let her go, now.”

“Can’t you see she changes my life? From servant to Alpha, and from bastard to more, but ye were s’pposed to suffer! Not marry a lass ye favored! Now, I’ll take her as mine and you will watch my victory from afar!”

“Why Lyall? Just tell me.”

“You could never understand, first son, the heir! And now I am shamed! That cuckold of a father should have never let our mother live! He knew! Don’t you see that? Damn ye, Eoghan! Now I’ll take what ye treasure the most!”

CHAPTER 8

Eoghan looked at his bride. Her fear was tangible. A living thing between them. Almost as strong as his rage at his own impotence.

“Ailis, I’ll come for thee.”

“The next time you see this woman she will be swollen with my heir and ye shall be hanging from a noose!”

“We must away the now! Benedicat omnis hic

ambulare in nebula, nos ab hoste, protégé occulos!”

“Eoghan!”

“Ailis!”

Eoghan collapsed as the Witch hissed in his direction. His head felt as if it were being crushed between two stones. He howled in pain and then everything went black.

When he woke some thirty minutes later it was with sweat running down his face. His fever had broke, but he was not altogether well.

Eoghan drank some water and paced the hall to clear his head. The priest and Pack healer were with his father. He was suffering from a dark curse placed on him by the Witch. As they all were.

After she screeched her last spell a thick, white fog encircled Castle MacContire. It was impenetrable and made it exceedingly dangerous to try and navigate across the rough terrain in such a state. Eoghan’s rage threatened to consume him.

“My lord, yer father asks for thee,” the lad, Tom Kelly, bade him enter his father’s rooms.

“Son, my son. The Witch speaks the truth. Yer father was molested by an English bastard, a rogue Wolf, who raped her one night whilst I fought to protect us. But she, she was my life, I promised to love her and to raise the child as mine own. Lyall is not my blood, but I believed him my son. I am sorry-”

“Nay, da, do not speak thus. Ye are good and brave and will be fine. I will see to Lyall and his Witch.”

“Do not harm him, I promised yer mother.”

“I shall do my best, but my loyalty is now to wife. I must find Ailis!”

Eoghan left the room abruptly. He went to the front door of the castle. Misty ropes of cursed fog blocked every available path from view. Yet he knew in his heart he had not a moment to lose.

“Sir? How shall ye travel in all this and where?”

“They have what is mine, Tom, and I mean to get her back.”

Eoghan raised his blonde head to the skies. The sun was setting, but twas weeks still to the full moon. He needed his Wolf more than ever, but the curse of St. Natalis forbade the connection between man and beast during the between times.

Eoghan growled and snarled. He had to focus. He went deep inside himself to that place in his mind’s eye where black Wolf rested and waited for him to call.

The silvery bonds of his Packmates were glowing as always, but they seemed almost dim compared to one. That line leads to her. My mate. Mine.

He knew instinctively tis the matebond he’d heard tales about from the Pack elders. His heart thudded in his chest as he settled back into the present. Then suddenly, as if through the mist, Eoghan saw a path. He raised his head. When he did his eyes were the familiar icy white blue of his Wolf.

“Sir!” Tom gasped.

“Ready yerself and my men. Bid them follow me. We go to fetch yer mistress and to save my father and yer Alpha.” He threw his head back and howled for all the Pack to hear.

“Grab the bitch by her hair and drag her if ye have to. We must lock the doors now!”

Ailis struggled against Lyall’s hold. He had six men loyal to him acting as guards, the Witch, and himself. They raced through the woods on horseback until they came to a decayed and crumbling tower.

“I saw this in my dreams,” she whispered. The Witch, having heard her, grabbed her by the chin and hissed.

“Ye have sight, I’ll grant ye, but shut that whore mouth or I’ll snap yer neck!”

“Nay! She is mine now, Witch. Have a care!” Lyall snaked his tongue out and licked the side of her face. Ailis cringed and moved away.

“Tis a fine perfume to cover that particular canid scent ye carry, but I know what ye are, she-Wolf! Dost thou think Eoghan would care to be married to such a bitch?”

“Let me go, foolish pup!” She spat at Lyall’s feet only to be slapped across the face hard enough to split her lip. The taste of blood in her mouth was familiar though unwelcome.

“Come, we must to the tower room. The ritual needs completing.”

“I’ll not give ye any more of my seed, Witch. It is for the lass now. No doubt, my brother will miss the honor of taking that pie for himself!”

Ailis gasped in pain as he tied a rope around her wrists and pulled her up the stairs. The rotting stone steps combined with mold, damp moss, and dead things invaded her nostrils. She wanted to gag.

For the first time ever, she wished she had applied more of that confounding scent. It was a nasty place and an even nastier future lay in wait for her. If only Eoghan would hurry!

Could he make it past the fog? The Witch was strong and cast a powerful spell. Nay, she’d not give in to those thoughts.

Her mate would come for her. She believed that with all her soul. She repeated it to herself over and again like the chanting monks she’d read about. Eoghan, love, come to me. Find me. I’m waiting for ye.

Her husband’s half-brother, half a man was more like, pushed her onto a seat in the center of the tower room. He fastened a chain to the rope that bound her wrists together and linked it to the hard seat. She could barely move her arms.

“Lyall, tis not too late to stop this.”

“Stop this? Why on earth would I stop this. Now tat I look on ye, Lady Ailis, I must say my brother has taste at least. Yer fine English gown and yer sparkling blue eyes are fetching indeed. Mayhaps I shall enjoy deflowering you!” He said with a guttural snarl in his voice that made her skin crawl.

He ran a hand down her hair as if testing it’s wait then lifted her face by her chin. His eyes seemed to undress her and Ailis suddenly wished for something with which to cover herself. He made her feel foul and used and that was just with his eyes.

“Aye, lass, you’ll do for me. I’ll have my brother’s wife first, ha! How’s that for a bastard second son, eh?”

“Yer Witch is scowling at ye, go tend her and leave me to find my peace afore yer brother comes to tear your throat out.”

What started out as bravado, ended with the strength of her belief. Ailis did not doubt that her beloved would e coming for her. It was there in the vehemence with which she spoke. Her kidnapper must have agreed for she noticed a twitch in his lip before he went to his Witch.

A foul and evil thing she was. Ailis knew of her kind, those who practiced the Dark Arts had been cavorting on Dungannon lands for months now. Twas Eoghan who burned their last habitat. No doubt she’d been stolen as some sort of revenge.

Her only hope now was to wait for her husband of but a few hours. Would their tie be strong enough to lead him to her? She wondered. She’d heard of such things amongst Werewolves, a matebond strong enough to link the two people as if they were one.

But she’d kept secrets from her man. She’d lied. Well, she had no choice at the time, but still. Would their bond be strong with deceit between them? Would he reject her?

Doubts and fear plagued her mind. Tears rolled down her cheeks. She was always a useless thing, wasn’t she? No good to anyone. Not worth what her father paid for her in dowry. Nay, Ailis, tis not yer own thoughts that besiege yer mind.

The voice of her Wolf sounded clear in her mind. Ailis closed her eyes and saw her clearly. Wrapped lovingly around her forepaw was a silvery glowing cord that travelled into the mist. She knew instinctively where it would lead.

Mine own mate. Tis true we are joined. He shall come for ye. Focus, Ailis. Stay at the ready.

Ailis opened her eyes and saw the Witch bent over a dark flame candle. Her one good eye peered at her and Ailis knew she was trying to invade her thoughts again. Nay, she will not get inside of my mind again!

Lyall paced around the small room and peeked through a small slit of a window that looked down on the ground below. He’d placed two of his men outside and four inside. Closest to him. The coward.

“Tis not right. He’ll come! I know it!” Lyall rubbed his head, his agitation increasing.

“I cursed him with a fever, he’ll not rouse in time. Take her, mark her now and make her yours!”

“Ye can not just bite a wench! I must be in the act of consummation to mark her.”

“Well then, get to fornicating with the bitch, but do it now! The signs are not unchangeable, ye must make the wench yers and then stake yer claim to Alpha! If he finds us tis lost.”

“But ye cursed the path?”

“Yay, but the bitch here is pretty bait! He’ll come!”

“Grrr,” Lyall growled a pitiful sound and stalked to Ailis. He grabbed for her hands wen suddenly a noise, more roar than howl sounded from outside.

“Tis not possible!”

CHAPTER 9

Eoghan did not know exactly how it happened, but he found himself staring out of Castle MacContire at a path that seemed lined with a silvery rope. He did not wait for anything else, he took off at full speed.

He felt his Wolf keenly inside of him. His two legs trod through dirt path and thick tall grass until he was running faster than any deer he’d ever tracked. One thought was on his mind and one thought only. Ailis. Mine.

The need to have her in his sights, to see her safe and feel her heartbeat under his own was a powerful motivation. Twas like he was half a person without her near him. The idea that his own blood, half or not, could harm a hair on his bride’s head was not easily swallowed.

He heard his men following behind. They were a mile or so out, but he did not slow down. He could not afford to waste a moment. There was no telling what would happen.

His feet took him down a path he’d never seen in his own forest. Every step he took further into the darkness was like fighting his own nature. Everything about the place was warning him away. Telling him to leave, but he kept on.

Finally, he found himself running up a stone walkway. A tower was hidden under tall trees, twas old and crumbling. A ruin of a thing. Any other day he’d have passed it by, but not this day.

When two armed men, friends of his brother, came forward, Eoghan knew he’d found them. His heart thudded in his chest. He’d right the wrongs done to him. And how.

“Sir! He is here! Yer brother is here!” One of them bellowed to the tower behind them.

Eoghan expected to see something happen in the topmost room, but to his surprise a voice sounded from below. There was a thin slit in the stone wall where he saw familiar dark eyes peer at him.

‘Ah! Come to wish me well with yer bride on yer wedding night? Forgive me if we get too loud, brother, but I’ll have her filled and fucked in no time!”

“Lyall! Ye will not touch her!”

“Come now! I will plunder her slit with my cock until she weeps with joy of it! I do you a favor, Eoghan, she’s not the lady ye think her!”

“I am warning you, Lyall. Surrender now or there is no hope for ye.”

“Men! Hold the bitch down and lift her skirts high. I want to see what I’ve stolen from this fool out here!”

“Taunt him not and fuck the bitch! Yer window is almost passed!” Lyall grabbed the Witch round her neck and slammed her against the wall.

“Ye will remember who I am! I am Alpha, I am in charge! Yer naught, but a vile demon whore!”

“Curse ye, fool! The Maccon comes and there is naught to do but run!” She threw her revolting head backward until her neck almost snapped then she ran straight up the wall and out the rooftop to Ailis’ horror and fascination. She watched as the Witch was swallowed by the shadows.

“That vile bitch!” Lyall wrenched Ailis from the chair and held her face to the tiny opening.

“Lyall! Release her!” Eoghan bellowed from where he stood. He felt like a wounded animal though the fight had not even started yet.

“Eoghan!” Her scream sent shivers down his spine. This would not end well for his brother.

Lyall shoved Ailis back at his men. They held her by her hair and the chains that bound her. She struggled but it was difficult.

“We shall see this to the end! Guards! Maim my brother so he may hear me take this whore, then kill him!”

Lyall’s men charged Eoghan. He recognized one, but not the other. The lout was a Wolf who was thrown out of the Pack for heinous crimes against his family. His wife and children were kept and protected from his abuse. Eoghan was the one who tossed him outside the village gates upon is father’s orders.

“Remember me, lad?”

“Gerald the wife-beater and child abuser, how could I forget?”

“How’s my wife been? When Lyall is Alpha I’ll have the bitch and my pups back and I’ll wipe the bloody floor with them all! As is my right as father and husband!”

“Gerald, this is not yer fight. Leave this place and ye will live a while longer.”

“Nay, I’m going to rip you apart!”

Up to that point, Eoghan had been trying to find a way in the fortress. The thing was well-built. Iron bars, stone walls, no large windows or openings of any kind. Would be nigh on impossible.

At the sound of Gerald’s charge, Eoghan readied himself. The guards had swords in one hand and short knives in the other. Eoghan had not stopped to put on weapons once he found the path.

He braced himself. Speed, strength, and accuracy were on his side. Gerald attacked first. He lunged with all his brutish strength and the man was at least three stones heavier than Eoghan. He sidestepped and kicked him in the backside, using the man’s own momentum to force him to the ground.

“Stay down, Gerald. Live another day at least.”

The man growled his fury and got to his feet. Eoghan kept him in his sight though he didn’t turn his back on the other. Sounds of a struggle coming from inside the tower momentarily distracted him.

“Ailis?!” he yelled just as the other guard stabbed at him with his knife.

Eoghan hissed as the blade sliced the skin of his forearm. He grabbed the guard and quieted his screams with one quick twist of his neck. That was his Ailis yelling now, the fear in her voice evident. He couldn’t wait a moment longer.

He crouched down and waited for Gerald to make his move. The man spit on the floor and growled. He swung his sword first. Eoghan ducked it easily. Twas not the sword that worried him, twas the knife.

Gerald came at him like a man possessed. He lunged and stabbed at Eoghan until he almost succeeded in plunging his blade straight through his chest. Eoghan grabbed him by the forearm, allowing the blade to slice into the skin just to the right of his heart. He twisted and heard the pop of the bone breaking.

“Ye bastard! Yer brother is taking yer bride the now! Ha! I have my revenge!”

“I gave you a choice, Gerald. You chose wrong.”

He took his head in both hands and twisted. The snapping of his neck made a sickening sound, but Eoghan was not stranger to battle. He did not even flinch.

He turned frantic. His Ailis was there, trapped by magic and worse, his mad half-brother! He needed in now. He ran to the door and pushed with all his might, but it would not budge.

Frustration warred with rage! If only the moon was full! He’d break down the bloody walls if he had to!

“Ailis!” he yelled.

“Shut up, bitch! Wait, ye can not leave!” Lyall screamed at Ailis and stared at the place where the Witch had been swallowed by darkness.

She’d left him. Abandoned him. Well, how was he supposed to take control of the Pack now.

“You two, guard the door! You hold this one down. I’ll have my brother’s wife the now! Do ya hear me Eoghan, I’ll plow her fields within yer hearing! I’ll use the bitch and leave her with nothing left!”

The sound of Eoghan banging against the outside walls and pounding against the door was constant. He’s here! Ailis was almost relieved, but she was still trapped in the tower. She needed to get out. She needed Eoghan.

Two huge, stinking guards grabbed her by her restraints. They made to pull her up, but something was happening. She looked at them, blue eyes glowing silver and snapped her teeth.

“What is this?”

“Sir, she be possessed!”

“Nay, fools! She is Wolf like we, and the moon is weeks away. Come now this is how you take a bitch to heel!”

Lyall stalked towards her, but Ailis’ Wolf was in charge for the moment. She’d not be used by the likes of him. She whipped her head side to side and snapped her teeth again, catching his finger. She spit out the appendage and ignored the metallic taste of his blood in her mouth.

His screams were like fuel to her fire. The sound of her mate drawing close was greater now. Ailis knew what she needed to do to help him get to her.

He heart roared inside her chest. Love for the man, her husband, overwhelmed her. She tossed back her still human head, though her Wolf was clearly in charge, and she howled.

She recognized a sort of ethereal glow emanating from her entire body as she howled and howled. A cry so loud and fierce that the men in the room all fell to their knees.

Those guards who would have held her while she was raped began to sob and scream, blood poured from their ears, but still she howled. Lyall yelled for them to seize her, but they were helpless.

Then the miracle happened. The huge wooden door, that was minutes ago held shut with black ropes of magic, fell open to the cold stone floor. Eoghan!

“What? How?” Lyall sputtered and backed up till he hit the wall behind him.

Eoghan snarled and growled his lupine jaws inches from the four guards. Only one remained conscious and he bowed to the floor in submission, wailing and crying, as Ailis’ howl came to an end.

He looked down his ice blue Wolf eyes at Lyall. The lecherous bastard already had his clothes undone. He cradled his hand where Ailis had bitten his finger off in his lap and he was sobbing incoherently.

The Wolf that was Eoghan was huge and black, his fangs a good three inches long. Saliva dripped from them as he growled and barked at his brother. He was furious as he moved to stand in front of Ailis.

He turned his back on his brother and bit through the cords and chains that bound her. She stood, her eyes still glowing, her Wolf near. She wanted to rejoice in him, in them, but then movement to their left startled her.

Eoghan turned just in time to see Lyall lunge towards them with a dagger in his hand. Eoghan had no choice. He reacted as any mated Wolf would. He charged his brother.

His great jaws closed around Lyall’s neck. He took no time to think about the fragility of his brother in human form. No, he had taken what was his, and now he would pay.

As his long, sharp teeth came into contact with the soft flesh, he bit down. With a mighty tug, he tore out Lyall’s throat, ending him quickly and succinctly. The blood that spewed forth was black, tainted as he was with Dark Magic.

Eoghan continued to snarl and snap his teeth at Lyall’s gaping mouth and shocked expression. His eyes were glazed over, the life drained from them. And still he growled.

Until he felt a hand on his back. Without turning he know it was his mate. Mine. The connection between them was bright and strong. He wanted to Change back to man, but his Wolf insisted he remain. To see her to their home.

Together, the left the fortress and met with Eoghan’s men along the path back to Castle MacContire. They gasped and started when they saw the familiar black Wolf with one white paw.

“How can this be?”

“Are you Tom?” Ailis spoke with her hand still on the back of the Wolf who was her husband.

“Aye, lady, I am Tom Kelly, at yer service.”

“There are bodies that need gathering ahead. A search party of Hounds to go after the Witch as well. Oh, and Eoghan says you are to lead them.”

“Y-yes, my lady,” he bowed deep and turned to his duties.

No one dared get close to the them. Some crossed themselves and muttered prayers others smiled through tears. Seeing their leader as Wolf on a night other than the full moon was amazing indeed.

They continued side by side the way back, as fog and mist cast by the Witch lifted from the ground. The stars and half moon shone above them. Lighting their way.

CHAPTER 10

Eoghan and Ailis settled into the large wooden tub filled to the brim with hot water, thanks to Gwinnie. They soaped each other and bathed until both were free of the grime and blood of their ordeal.

“On the morrow, I shall stand before my father, Ailis. I shall have to answer for my crimes.”

“Nay, we shall stand together.”

“Are ye certain?”

“Oh, aye. Blood was spilt by us both, but not without provocation.”

“Tis true, but I acted without the Alpha’s orders. And I killed my brother.”

“I am sorry, Eoghan.”

“Nay. I am sorry for I did not see what eh truly was sooner. I am only glad you are okay.”

“Thanks to you.”

“Thanks to us.”

Once clean and dry, they settled in front of the fire under blankets and furs aplenty. Eoghan stared at the face of his beloved bride with wonder in his eyes. She was free of the heavy scent she wore and he was able to smell her. All of her. Wolf and woman.

“Why did ye hide yerself from me?”

“Tis not fashionable for a lady to be Wolf. My father was afraid the match would be called off.”

“Damn fashion! The fool. Did he not think ye were special?”

“Nay, my father has never had a kind thought or care for me. I, I only wonder, now that ye know the truth, will ye still keep me?”

Eoghan ran his hand over her soft skin exposed from her thin chemise. She was beautiful Her long hair in it’s multitude of colors swirled around her shoulders and hips. It was soft as down feathers from a goose.

He followed his hands with his lips. If he could not tell her how much he loved her, he’d show her. Kisses trailed along her sweet body soon turned into something more.

“Eoghan,” she groaned and grabbed his face and brought his lips to hers.

“I love ye, Ailis, and I’d die for ye, don’t ye know that?”

“Yea, my love, as I would for you.”

He leaned his head and met her lips with his. Their kiss was long and deep. She wound her hands through his long flaxen hair and over the soft whiskers that covered his face.

His hands were skilled and gentle as he removed her thin layer of clothing. The heat of his body seeped into her skin as he licked his way from her neck to her breasts.

He feasted on her creamy flesh. Kissing and teasing, then nibbling the peaks with his teeth. His Wolf growled deep inside of him. He recognized her beast and demanded he claim her again as mate with a bite on her shoulder.

Eoghan recognized the command now for what it was. Mine. He reveled in the knowledge that their bond brought him to her and allowed him to carry her away to safety. Now he’d show her his love.

“Aye, my Ailis, I love ye,” he breathed the words as he suckled her. His hands found their way down her thighs and parted them.

She was smooth and warm and so ready for him by the time he reached the nest of soft brown curls that graced her body with his long fingers. She was a fine form of a woman. And she was his.

In every sense of the word. His own, his mate, his Wolf bride. His mind went cloudy with lust as he smelled her sweet musk when he smoothed her slit open. He dipped a finger in and smiled at her moan.

Pleasure at the sounds and feels of her swept through his body. He wanted to make her howl again, this time with satisfaction. He nudged her legs open a bit wider so he could more fully attend to her.

She was slick and hot, ready for him. Eoghan could wait no longer. His cock was full to bursting. He entered her with a swift flex of his hips. Her inner muscles squeezed him as he pumped in and out of her body.

An eruption of feelings flowed inside of him as he buried himself inside of her. She was fire and light, strength and goodness, everything he ever wanted. He rolled her onto her back and sank even further, lifting her legs and wrapping them tightly around him. He lowered his head and kissed her mouth. Her tongue met his and together they explored each other.

She was naked beneath him as she’d never been before. Her Wolf scent invading his nostrils and making him hungry for more. She smelled like lavender fields and fresh Irish rain, like home and something more. He couldn’t put a name to it.

He’d never experienced pleasure so intense and so right as this before. Nay, she was the only one to make him feel so. She writhed underneath him, meeting him stroke for stroke.

She was earthy and sensual. Unafraid of the intense connection between them. His Ailis ran her hands around his chest then down his back to his buttocks. She stroked and cupped and squeezed.

He pumped and pounded until she moaned out his name in her completion. Aye, she was beautiful like that. Sweat glistened on her body and he licked the saltiness from her skin as he pumped once then twice more.

He growled his pleasure and spilled himself inside of her. She was his everything. Tomorrow they would face his father and their future, together.

“Eoghan! Aye, ye feel so good when ye fill me like this.”

“We are matebonded, Ailis, can ye feel the connection?”

“Yea, feel it and see it, in my mind’s eye.”

“As can I, love. You feel like heaven. I never want to stop loving ye like this.”

“Then don’t, husband.”

“I never shall, my Wolf bride.”

The following day…

“Though it pains me to give ye both this sentence, it is by our laws that I, Chief of the Name, banish ye from our lands, Eoghan MacContire and yer bride, the Lady Ailis Dungannon…”

The speech ordering their banishment for the crime of fratricide was made to the entire village, then again to the Pack and the Hounds. It differed a trifle from audience to audience, bu nothing said was a lie.

He killed his half-brother. And, to protect Ailis, he would do it again. It was what was whispered in Eoghan’s ear by his father that would stay with him for a lifetime.

“Son, now is yer chance to go explore yer new worlds with yer Wolf Bride. Take her to a new place where she and ye will both thrive and be safe. Know in yer heart that I am with ye. I am only sorry I have failed yer mother in caring for her sons.”

“Nay, father, ye were a fine father. I shall not forget all yer teachings.”

“Aye. Go now, lad, or I might not let ye.”

“Fare thee well, father, God keep thee.”

“And thee.”

Epilogue

Many years later.

Eoghan looked at his wife with a wide smile on his face. Her belly was swollen with their second child and she was radiant with it. They were lucky that in their long lifetimes they had known so much happiness.

Her Wolf was strong and beautiful as she and he had no course for complaint. They’d lost one babe months before the infant was ready for birth, as She-Wolves were wont to do. It pained him to think of it, but this one was strong inside of her.

He stood to lift the crate she was looking through so she wouldn’t strain herself. He kissed her head as she nodded her thanks. Ailis was still unpacking their belongings after their recent move from Jamestown to the new Dutch settlement just north of where they lived the past twenty years.

They were known as Eoghan and Ailis Maccon in the New World. A shortened name, one Ailis recalled the Witch had called him with fear when he found her in the tower. Maccon. In Irish it meant the son of a Wolf and that he was.

Letters from Ireland reached them from the lad who had once cleaned his mail, Tom Kelly. He informed them that his da had passed on some years after their banishment, the Witch had never been found, but the Greyback Pack was strong and a new Alpha placed. There was no mention of the Dungannon, other than that he too has passed. Ailis wept not for her stern father.

They closed the door on their past with that letter. Content with each other and strong in their bond. They settled into a wonderful life together of adventure and love.

Young Nathaniel’s giggles could be heard from outside. He was running amok with Gwinnie a sshe hung the wash. Ailis’ lady’s maid had insisted on accompanying them in their exile.

The small village they’d built was thriving. He built his house with good timber and thatching for the roof. He’d encountered few Werewolves since uprooting his family. Those he had joined them on their journey.

The Wolves were restless without a leader. They were uncertain in their new home, but they all agreed they recognized his natural dominance. Before he knew it, they named him Alpha and swore loyalty to him and his.

He swallowed to stop the tears that naturally sprung to his eyes when he thought of his da and all he taught him about being an Alpha. He’d make his father proud and he’d only lead his Wolves to prosperity.

Ailis called them the Macconwood Pack in honor of their new name and the place where they two first met. It could not be more perfect. Another adventure indeed.

“Well, love, is this new land agreeing with my son that you carry?”

Eoghan wrapped his arms around his wife’s increased girth and nuzzled her neck. Pride and contentment filled his chest as he inhaled her sweet musk. Mine.

“What makes you think tis not a daughter then, sir?”

Ailis said and leaned into him. His manhood stood at attention as it did whenever she was near, but suddenly his mind went black. Did she say daughter?

“Aye, well, wait- a daughter?”

“There is a chance, you do recognize that?”

“Uh-”

“Oh, Eoghan!” She laughed and swatted at him. e ignored her and picked her up.

“I swear, Ailis, I love ye more each and every day. You’ve given me a fine son, and if this here be a daughter, then I’ll strive to be an even better man for ye both.”

“As if you could be any better, my love.”

Their lips met and Eoghan lost himself in her kiss. This woman, his wife, who had braved Witches, Wolves, banishment, oceans, settlers, natives, strange lands, childbirth, and more. And all just to be with him.

She was still his wild thing, his lady of the wood. Beautiful and fierce. And his. His Wolf Bride.

Pronunciation:

Eoghan: Owen

Ailis: Alice

Leine: Laynya (a shirt or tunic on men, a dress on women)

Cota: Coe Tah (coat)

Inar: Ee Nar (Jacket)

Plaide: Played (blanket)

Failte: Fal Cha (Welcome)

Oidhre: Ay Va (Heir)

Baile na nGascioch Conriochtai: (Village of the Warrior Wolves)

Uisce Beatha: Ishca Baha (whiskey)

Benedicat omnis hic ambulare in nebula, nos ab hoste, protégé occulos: (Latin) Curse all here to walk in the fog, protect us from their eyes!

About the Author

C.D. Gorri earned her Bachelor’s Degree in English Literature from Montclair State University. She lives in her home state of New Jersey with her family.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, places, organizations, and events portrayed in this Novel are either part of the author’s imagination and/or used fictitiously and are Not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental. All rights are reserved. No part of this book is to be reproduced, scanned, downloaded, printed, or distributed in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author. Please do Not participate in or encourage piracy of any materials in violation of the author’s rights.

Connect with C.D. Gorri

To learn more about me please visit

http://www.cdgorri.com

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Other Titles by C.D. Gorri

Wolf Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel Book 1

Hunter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel Book 2

Rebel Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel Book 3

Winter Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel Book 4

Chasing The Moon: A Grazi Kelly Short 4.5

Casting Magic: The Angela Tanner Files #1

Keeping Magic: The Angela Tanner Files #2

Charley’s Christmas Wolf: A Macconwood Pack Novella #1

Cat’s Howl: A Macconwood Pack Novel #2

Code Wolf: A Macconwood Pack Novel #3

Look for my contributions in these anthologies:

Claiming My Valentine

Summer Fantasy Flings

Coming Soon:

Blood Moon: A Grazi Kelly Novel #5

The Dragon’s Valentine: A Falk Clan Novel #1

The Witch and The Werewolf: A Macconwood Pack Novel #4

12 Magical Nights of Christmas Anthology