She smiled at him and cupped his face, then lifted it to look up at her. “If anyone had told me I’d be sleeping with a Highland wolf in a castle in Scotland…”
“Mated to a wolf,” he corrected her. “There’s a vast difference. Last night, you slept with a wolf. Tonight, you’re with your mate.”
Mated to a wolf. She liked the way he said it. The connection that now stood between them for the rest of their days.
His warm fingers stroked up her belly underneath the sweater, higher until he ran his hands over her breasts and squeezed them. Already his erection was heavy against her thigh, his breathing rough, hers getting rougher. She’d never known being with a wolf could be this good.
He pushed the sweater up, exposing her breasts. Cool air from the room mixed with his heated breath to make her nipples stand at attention. Her breasts felt heavier, achy, needy. Just like the area between her legs was feeling needy. Then he licked her nipples, tasting, swirling his tongue around one and then the other.
He raised his mouth to hers, his soft sweater brushing her bare breasts as he rocked his erection against her leg, simulating being inside her. Her mouth caressed his, her tongue sweeping out to lick his, her teeth gently nipping his lips in a wolfish way.
He groaned with need, his fingers combing through her hair as she tugged at his sweater to pull it up. To feel his heated skin rubbing against hers. The pleasure of his mouth on hers, his tongue teasing her own, his body sliding against hers, all made her want to be naked, to have him deep inside her… now.
“I want you,” she whispered against his mouth. Her hands glided down his bare back and managed to slip into his jeans. He wasn’t wearing any boxers. Good. She cupped his ass. “Now.” Her hushed voice came out a low growl.
He smiled, then whispered in Gaelic, making an ancient connection with her—not just a wolfish one, but a Highland one as well.
She loved hearing the words that said he loved her, and she repeated them to him even though hers had an American accent. He seemed to love the way she said the words, no matter what her accent was. Then he stripped off her sweater and then his, tossing them to the floor.
This was more like it. Her bare chest to his. Skin to skin. Nipples to nipples, his just as erect as hers were.
He nuzzled her face, kissed her throat, and licked it, sending a new wave of heat coursing through every blood vessel. The pleasure was so intense that she felt her sex wet and prepared for him.
He brushed his lips across her throat, then lower, licking a trail down between her breasts all the way to her navel, his fingers working feverishly to unfasten her pants. He unzipped her jeans, then plunged his hand inside between her legs, feeling her wetness, his fingers entering her, cupping her, demanding.
She was on fire, the sensation of his touch, determination, and urgency sending her up in flames. Waves of orgasm struck as if the sun had just warmed the room, the bed, and her, even though it was dark out, cold and gloomy.
His jeans and hers were on the floor before she realized just how fast he could move.
He climbed on top of her, pressing her thighs apart. He pushed his cock slowly into the center of her being, deepening the drive, not in a hurry, although he looked as though it was killing him to hold back. His mouth sought hers and she took him in, his tongue slipping inside, deep and penetrating.
She wanted him to make love to her as fast and furiously as he was able. She tightened around him—her sheath, her body, her legs, her arms, her lips around his tongue—holding the powerful wolf in her grasp. He was hers. Every glorious, muscled bit of him. And she loved him.
Feral need demanded action as Cearnach slid deeply into his mate, his love, her erotic scent assaulting his senses and making him plunge deeper, faster. He wanted to go slower, but the way she was digging her heels into his arse and her nails were gliding down his back, the way she clenched his cock and rocked upward to meet his thrusts, he couldn’t hold on. Then she sucked on his tongue and he nearly lost it.
He’d wanted her ever since he’d made love to her in the kennel. Wanted to taste her and feel her clenching him in the most pleasurable way, to hold her close like a mate would, to love her.
She was the only one for him. The girl from so long ago. The woman now cradling him between her legs. He thrust his aching arousal into her, her pulse and his rapidly beating in unison, the tiny waves of pleasure wracking her body and feeding his own need to make her come again.
Pulling his mouth free from hers, he nuzzled her face, then licked her jaw. He clutched her hips as he pumped into her, her body grinding against his, the blood pooling in his groin, the climax so close that he barely breathed.
Then he came, explosively, deep inside her, bathing her in his seed.
He thought briefly about the puppy Elaine wanted from Sheba’s litter and how soon she’d have her own werewolf litter to love, too. He’d make sure of it in the most pleasurable of ways.
In the middle of the night, Elaine woke with Cearnach’s body wrapped soundly around hers. She heard the muffled sound of the dogs barking in the kennel, alerting of trespassers or something. She couldn’t sleep until she discovered what the matter was.
She untangled herself from Cearnach, pulled aside the curtains, and left the bed. After crossing the floor, she opened the window to look out. The air was cold and damp, and she shivered.
That’s when she heard wolves howling farther away in the woods surrounding the castle. Were they some of Cearnach’s people? Running as wolves in the woods tonight?
Or were they some of her kin? Why, if they were McKinleys or Kilpatricks, would they be prowling the woods here?
She returned to Cearnach’s side of the bed and said softly to wake him, “Cearnach.”
He didn’t stir. She walked back over to the window and saw men on the wall walk looking in the direction of the forest. She couldn’t sleep anyway, so she might as well find out what was going on. She quickly yanked on her sweater, jeans, and boots, then left the bedchamber, half expecting others from the keep to also be headed outside to learn what the matter was. Unless the wolves were just the MacNeills—then no one would be paying any attention to them.
She considered that she might look foolish, worrying about something she had no need to be concerned about, but she was checking the matter out just the same.
Chapter 23
Wolves still howled in the woods beyond the walls of Argent Castle, calling to Elaine as she left the warmth of the keep and headed for the gates in the frigid weather. Gray clouds blocked any sign of stars clinging to the heavens tonight. She realized she should have borrowed Heather’s coat again.
She also realized she couldn’t see anything beyond the walls surrounding the inner bailey, which was the point of being protected by massive walls of stone. The heavy oak gates were closed for the night so the only way she would see what was going on outside the castle would be to climb to the top of the castle wall. She imagined that the stairs to the wall walk were encased in the two towers flanking the gate.
Brass lanterns lighted some areas—the doorway to the kennels, to the horses’ stalls, and to the castle. Since only lupus garous lived here, they could see well enough in the dark.
Six men were watching the forest from the top of the wall walks, four on one side of the gate, two on the other. She didn’t recognize any of them and hoped they wouldn’t mind her joining them up there.
She hurried across the courtyard, and when she reached the doorway to one of the gate towers, she yanked at the door handle, half expecting it to be locked. It wasn’t and the door squeaked open, alerting anyone above that she was on her way to join them.