Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,59

pack still adhered to, even Talorc.

“Barr has a Sinclair plaid on his bed.”

Earc shrugged. “He reminds himself this clan is not his.’Tis for your brother’s sake he does this.”

“He’s a man of rare honor.”

“He is.”

“So are you.”

“I am pleased you think so.”

“There is a cave, where Connor hid among the rocks earlier today. The few Chrechte who choose to honor their mates with the ancient ritual go there.”

Ah, so she did consider the Chrechte mating ritual an honor and clearly wanted to participate in the rite. Modestly. He almost smiled, but suppressed the urge and asked, “Not to the sacred caves with the hot springs?”

“It is nearly a day’s journey and Rowland discouraged our clan from making the trip.”

“After the clan is more settled, we will travel there for a second ceremony with my family.” It would please them and help his parents accept Earc’s choice to make his life with the Donegal clan going forward.

“Thank you. I would like that very much.”

“Now, can we return to the keep? I have soldiers to train.” And if they stayed there much longer, he would forget responsibility in favor of a very private mating ceremony just between him and the healer.

Chapter 13

Barr shoved the door to his bedchamber shut with his heel before dropping Sabrine to her feet. The need to couple drove them both as they yanked off their plaids and other clothing, though he took a careful second to put his weapon in easy reach as always. Then he spun them around, pressing her against the door and devouring her mouth with his.

Sabrine did not attempt passivity, but returned his ardor caress for caress, clashing lips, tongue and teeth. She was his ideal complement in every way. A demure human would not have fit him so rightly. But Sabrine’s soft skin felt perfect to his touch, hot and smooth and alluring beyond measure.

While his feelings for her were a mixture of tenderness and lust, right now the voracious desire was in full control. He lifted her by her buttocks until their sexes were in alignment and then he thrust against her mound with his rigid cock. The wet, silky curls felt so good, but he knew what would feel better and he ached to be encased in her willing, moisture-slicked flesh.

“Are you ready for me?” he demanded against her still-mobile lips.

She nodded desperately, her head banging the door twice.

He almost laughed, but his throat was too dry and his cock too desperate.

She spread her thighs, bringing her legs around to latch behind his thighs and opening her honeyed depths to him. He slid his hardened member up and down her slicked flesh until they were both groaning and he knew he had to be inside her. Now.

“You are mine!” he shouted as his head breached her inner sanctum.

“Yours.” Her voice was naught but a whisper, only so filled with aching emotion it resonated inside him like the strongest war cry.

She arched toward him as he pushed slowly but inexorably inside.

She gripped his neck so fiercely she would leave marks and he reveled in that truth. “Fire this hot must burn out.”

“No.” He rejected her words immediately. They were true mates, no matter what she insisted on believing, and the passion between them would burn brightly until they were old and gray. Until one of them passed into the next life.

“It must. We’ll die otherwise.”

“We’ll live!”

“You are so contrary.”

“You are such a doomsayer.” He thrust inside her. “You would build dungeons in the sky if I let you, but I will build ecstasy between us and your dungeons will crumble.”

He would plant his seed. Their babe would be conceived, which was only possible between true mates when a Chrechte and a human mated. He assumed it was the same for an Éan and the Faol.

He would have to ask her.

Later.

Regardless, she would bear his child. One born of their combined strength would be the strongest warrior for generations. The prospect the babe could well be a girl did not deter his thoughts at all.

“I know what the future holds for us.” Tears stood out in her near-black eyes.

She would learn they were not necessary. “As do I, but only one of us is right.”

“Arrogant man. You think it is you.”

“Grieving female, you think it is you.” Even amidst the joy of their desire, her underlying grief did not dissipate.

“I do not want to grieve again!” The words were lost in her moans of pleasure and he let them slide away from