Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,54
their mating may be a stormy one.”
“Only until he realizes asking is more effective than ordering when it is between mates.” Though Sabrine could not say for certain that’s what had Verica running. The woman’s scent had turned too much like that of prey for Sabrine to understand what had been going through her mind. Surely she knew that she was safe with Earc.
Or was she?
Verica was raven as well as wolf and Earc was fully of the Faol of the Chrechte.
“Is it now?” Barr’s lazy drawl caressed Sabrine’s insides, bringing forth the desire always simmering under the surface when she was near him.
“Yes.”
“You sound very definite.”
What were they talking about again? Oh, yes. “That is because I have no doubt.”
“I see. You believe I should ask if you would like to accompany me to our bedchamber rather than pick you up and carry you there?”
Her answer was unnecessary as he’d already done just that.
The air around them filled with the spice of their attraction and rather than fight it, she allowed it to wash over her until she was light-headed with the effect.
She did not know how long she had with this amazing warrior of the Faol, but she would enjoy every moment given her. For one thing was certain: there would not be many of them.
Earc caught up with Verica by the time she was on the steps. He said nothing, content to wait to ask what the hell she was doing running from him until she had walked off most of her upset.
’Twas something his oldest brother told him worked well with women. Earc had no reason to doubt the other man’s wisdom, for his mating was a happy one.
She didn’t stop in the hall, but went outside, through the courtyard, across the fields and into the forest. The fragrance of summer-sun-heated earth and heather did not mask that of prey. The temptation to go hunting rose and just as quickly settled.
Catching a mate was even more pressing a need. Strange that, when he had not come to the Donegals planning to find his mate, or even hoping for it.
She skirted the area where Earc had fought his challenge; the smell of charred wood and ash hung heavy in the air. The reminder he had been forced to take the life of a fellow wolf today gave him no sense of loss. Rowland may have been Chrechte, but he had been on the verge of destroying his pack. There was nothing to grieve in the loss of a man so evil and selfish.
They did not stop walking until she reached the small brook beyond the clearing. She was silent, looking over the water and then up to the sky. He did not press her for words, content to wait until she told him what had sent her running from the keep.
’Twas not him because she’d made no effort to get away from him since leaving her room, though he had not enjoyed the feeling of her rushing out of the room after his announcement.
Her head tilted back and she gazed up at the sky for long moments of silence before saying, “I changed into a raven for the first time in this spot.”
He looked around them. It seemed a good place for a first shift, but he could not connect to the concept she was both bird and wolf. “I did not know the Chrechte could have two natures.”
“It is very rare, but when two who are different species are true bonded, their children can carry both natures within them.”
It was information none among his pack was privy to, at least to his knowledge. The very existence of the Éan was more myth than reality for the Sinclair pack. “Your parents were sacred mates.” According to what she had just said, it could be no other way.
“Yes.” The wealth of meaning in that one word hit him with the force of a blow from Barr’s fist.
“You hoped for the same.”
She gave him a measured sidelong glance. “Truthfully, I thought never to mate at all.”
“Why?”
“To risk discovery of my raven is to risk death.”
Surely she did not fear him. “I will never harm you.”
“You aren’t like the men of my clan.” It was not outright agreement, but it was close enough.
“Nay, I am not.”
Instead of being comforted, she grew more agitated. Her breathing quickened while perspiration formed on her forehead and upper lip, the smell of her distress bringing a howl to his wolf’s heart.
It was his job