Moon Burning - By Lucy Monroe Page 0,98

had her laughing as she had not done in years.

He had her pinned to the ground, his wolf’s tongue lolling from his grinning mouth above her. The fresh scents of the forest mixed with his unique fragrance and she breathed in deeply, discovering how much she really liked it.

She could not speak the words of love burning in her chest, but she could tell him that there was no part of him she could or would ever despise again.

“Barr, acting laird of the Donegal clan, pack alpha and my mate, I accept you, and every part of who you are, irrevocably as not only my mate but the other half of my soul.” The love was there, if he wanted to see it, but she would not press it on him when his feelings were not in the same place.

The air shimmered and a man now pinned her, a large man who blocked out the waning light and overwhelmed her every sense with his presence. Furthermore, a man whose arousal grew against her hip with insistent rapidity.

“Thank you.” And then his mouth claimed hers gently and with a wealth of tenderness that brought moisture to her eyes.

She closed them, unwilling to allow him to see her weakness, and returned the kiss with every bit of emotion clamoring for release from her heart. She could feel his wolf’s presence in a way she had not before.

Had he been holding back? Had she blinded herself? She would not let it matter; what did was that, finally, their mating was truly that of the Chrechte and not merely two human bodies coming together.

Their lovemaking was slow and tender, ending in a mutually shared pinnacle that made her world fade to nothing but his body above hers. She could see naught but him; she could feel nothing but the way their bodies still joined; she could hear nothing but the sound of his heart and his breathing.

Until the sound of an eagle’s call shattered the joy-filled silence between them.

She turned her head in time to see the bird swoop from the sky, talons extended. It was clearly going for the pack Barr had removed from the horse and dropped when she had sought to make peace with him.

Barr rolled aside, shifting as he did, his wolf’s body leaping for the bird, while she dove for the pack—for the Clach Gealach Gra, which she must protect at any cost.

She threw herself on top, curling herself around it as the eagle changed course, flying out of Barr’s reach. Her mate shifted back to human form and grabbed for his dagger.

He pivoted and went to throw it.

Do not kill him, she screamed into her mate’s head.

He didn’t bother to reply, sending the dagger into the air. It snagged the eagle’s wing and the bird tried to right itself, but could not. It spun and lost the air from under its wings, tumbling toward the earth with nothing to break its fall.

Except Barr was there, waiting, his arms extended. The eagle landed against him with a thud, its talons digging into his chest, even as it fought for its freedom.

She was on her feet and running, throwing her arms around the flapping wings, pinning them to the bird’s body as Barr grabbed its talons with hands careful not to wound. Once again, she was struck anew by the honor and deep commitment to life of her mate.

In an instant, the eagle was a man. His elbow came back, striking her in the chest and knocking the air out of her.

In the past, she would not have let go. But in the past, she had not had Barr. Nor had she carried his babe. She did now, though, and she had no choice but to release the fighting man before he could do damage to her and the child she carried.

Jumping back, she scurried out of the way so Barr could subdue the eagle shifter without worrying about her. Despite the blood from the wounds in his chest making him and his opponent slick, he did it quickly.

When Barr had the eagle shifter immobilized, so she could see the man’s face, Sabrine could barely breathe for her shock.

He was clearly Éan, but she had never seen him before. “Who are you?”

Barr smacked the man’s head and said, “I’ll introduce you.”

“You?” she asked in shock.

“Aye, this is the human, Lais.” He stressed the word human and drew it out with clear mocking intent. “Cousin to our Brigit; I’ve been training