endured at the hands of his.
She neither confirmed nor denied.
“You’ll tell me.”
“Tell you what?”
“Everything.”
“No.” Even to her own ears, the single word swelled with enough horror to drown a small village.
His countenance did not darken; he merely shrugged, jostling her body so the plaid covering her slipped just enough that they were skin against skin on her side.
Her gasp this time was for an entirely different reason than shock. It was pure sensation. Amazing sensation. Make-her-wish-for-the-first-time-to-share-her-body-with-a-man sensation.
She had never been this close to a mate, not outside of battle. And never had another man had the effect on her this blond barbarian did.
He inhaled deeply and she realized with chagrin that he was smelling her arousal.
“Stop it,” she whispered, though why she bothered when the other Chrechte with them had a wolf’s hearing, she did not know.
Barr grinned down at her, his masculine pleasure heating the air around them. “No.”
“You’re not claiming me.”
“Your body says otherwise.”
“My mind controls my body.”
“We’ll see.”
“Would you force me to go where my mind does not want to?”
“I will not force you, but as to your heart ruling your mind, that you’ll have to stop.”
“My heart has nothing to do with this.”
“Call it what you like, but your body betrays your true thoughts on the matter.”
“It betrays nothing but animal reaction.”
“That is an odd thing for a human to say.”
“Humans are animals, too, they simply have one nature, not two like the Chrechte.”
She grabbed the plaid, trying to adjust it so her skin was not burning along his. He would not let her but continued walking, keeping her pressed close to him.
Arrogant wolf.
Curious clanspeople surrounded them as Barr carried her into the compound nearly an hour later. Each wore the red and black plaid of the Donegals.
One older woman peered at her and Barr with knowing amusement. “So, it would appear you had a successful hunt, then, laird.”
“Aye, I found the lass in the forest.”
“In her all together by the look of it.”
A young boy asked, “Did a wild animal attack her and steal all her clothes, do you think?”
“Aye, lad, that’s just what happened,” Barr lied without a second’s hesitation.
“She looks a wee bit worse for the wear,” the old woman said. “Best get her to the keep. Let Verica have a look at her.”
The words surprised Sabrine. She knew humans could be kind, but this woman belonged to the clan that had stolen the sacred stone. In Sabrine’s mind all Donegals were cruel and selfish, like the wolves that had made the clan their home.
She didn’t have much time to ponder the thought before she was in the keep itself.
It was not as large as some of the clan buildings she saw on her nightly flights, but it was bigger than any dwelling among the Éan. Barr carried her into the main hall, where three long tables made a U shape at one end and a large fireplace warmed the other. No chairs sat in front of the fireplace, but that didn’t stop a small group of soldiers from congregating there to sharpen their weapons.
Barr walked past the soldiers after giving them a cursory greeting. One asked who she was and Barr called her his guest. This elicited curious stares, which Muin clearly intended to satisfy as he joined the soldiers by the fire.
Barr did not seem to care as he continued across the vast room, around the tables and toward a staircase.
Stepping onto the first riser, he bellowed, “Verica!”
And then he took the stairs two at a time, managing not to jostle Sabrine despite his speed. His grace did not surprise her—wolves were not clumsy—but his care for her comfort did.
A beautiful woman, petite in stature, stepped out of a room off the landing. Presumably the Verica the old woman had referred to and Barr had called for. She had hair the same color as Sabrine’s but with bits of dark red mixed in. The nearest Sabrine had seen to anything like it was a hawk and golden eagle shifter. He had dark brown hair with streaks of gold like his second shifting form’s feathers. It was extremely rare for a shifter to be born with both their parents’ animal forms. She’d only ever heard of three her whole life and one was long dead.
Sabrine could not imagine what had caused this small woman’s coloring until she got closer and the woman’s scent became clear.
She smelled like a wolf.
No other shifter had the true black hair of the raven but the raven