Wicked Deeds on a Winter's Night

By the time they saw the first strike of lightning that night, MacRieve had completed a platform and lean-to by a stream and had hunted for Mari. Once the nightly rain started, they were fed and clean. She was cozily dressed in his shirt once more—and nothing else.

And he'd just taken his first deep kiss from her.

When he drew back, it took her a moment to open her eyes. She found his were flickering from amber to ice blue and were intent on her as he studied her reaction.

She sighed, 'I really like the way you kiss me.'

'I hope you're going tae like more than my kiss.'

'Bowen, you won't lose control, will you? It's been a while for me.'

'No, lass, I will no'. But how long's it been?'

'Over four years.'

He laughed without humor. 'Try one hundred and eighty.'

Her brows drew together. 'Not a single female? Not a single encounter?'

'No' one. Hell, I might have forgotten how tae do this.'

'Like riding a bike, right?'

'Let's see, then.' He leaned forward once more to kiss her neck, flicking his tongue until she softly moaned. She found herself easing back under the firm weight of his hand as he rucked the shirt to her waist.

Then he laid his rough palms on her inner thighs and pressed her legs open. Though she began trembling, he didn't touch her bared sex. But his ice blue eyes were riveted to it, his growl rumbling low.

When he licked his lips, she shivered and grew wetter, knowing what he planned. 'Bowen... ' She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from begging for his tongue against her. Her body yearned for it.

He settled between her legs, kissing down her torso to nuzzle her ring. Then lower...

When he pressed his open mouth against her sex, slipping his tongue into her folds, she arched her back in delight, threading her fingers in his hair. He gave a harsh groan against her, and his hands clenched her thighs hard, as if he'd forgotten himself.

'Dreamed of tastin' you,' he growled, his breaths hot against her. Through heavy-lidded eyes, she stared down at him. As he licked and teased, his brows were drawn, his eyes closed tightly, as if he was in an agony of pleasure.

She fought the building tension, wanting this to last forever. But under his hungry kiss, she waged a losing battle.

'Come for me, lass,' he rasped, then gently suckled her clitoris, his strong tongue flicking over it.

She gave a cry out into the night, the deep knot of lust unfurling. As she began to come, she shot upright. Gripping his hair, she undulated her hips, rubbing her flesh against his tongue. He was snarling against her, lapping at her wildly. 'Witch... you drive me mad... '

When he'd wrung every last shudder from her, she had to push him away.

As if reluctant to leave, he kissed her thighs languidly, though she could feel his hands shaking.

'Bowen,' she whispered. 'I need you inside me.'

'Anythin',' he grated, rising up to yank off his clothes, while she lay back and stared at him in awe.

This is actually going to happen.

Though he was in a lather from licking that orgasm from her—and still staggered from her wanton response —he somehow controlled himself to make sure she was ready to receive him. He delved his fingers inside her tight sheath until her nails bit into his shoulders with frustration.

At last, he allowed himself to lie in the cradle of her thighs. Again, his dazed mind thought, I'm going to claim her.

And he was... nervous.

He'd vowed to her that she'd never want to leave his bed, speaking with all the arrogance he'd used to possess—before he'd been celibate for nearly two centuries.

Yet even when he was on the verge of entering her, he somehow remembered the patch. He fingered it at her arm, making his voice as casual as possible. 'Let's take this off, then.'

Breathless, she asked, 'Why would you want me to?'

'You've no reason to wear it. You'll have no other man but me, and I can only get my mate with bairns—no other female. So if you conceived, then all the better. We'll know without a doubt that you're mine.'

'Whoa... ' She stiffened beneath him, shoving his hand away. 'I don't want to get pregnant.'

His heart sank. Of course not. Nothing's changed. He rolled off her to his side.

'I'm only twenty-three. It's too early!'

He swung his gaze on her. 'But you do... you do want to eventually?'

'Sure, but not now,' she said, and he felt a welling of relief. 'Not until I'm in my thirties or forties. Chronologically. That's the plan. I know I don't seem like the type of woman to have a plan, but I do.'

'What's the difference between now and ten years in the grand scheme?'

'I've got a lot to get straightened out in my life. My powers, my place in the House. Right now I can't even take care of myself, much less someone else.'

'I'll take care of you. Always.' He cupped her face. 'You've nothing to worry about ever again.'

'Wait... ' She went still. 'That's what this is all about? So you can be sure?' His eyes widened when hers began to water. 'The entire seduction. The full court press last night, today, tonight. So you can find out for certain whether I'm your mate or not.'

'Do you think there's no other reason why I might want tae be inside you?' He shoved her palm to his aching shaft, but she yanked her hand back.

'Not one as important as your knowing for certain, as your black and white. Today, you said that you'd decided on me, so why this test?' She sat up, pulling the shirt to cover her. 'I'll tell you—because you're still recognizing the possibility that I won't pass the test. You're trying to persuade me to throw all in with you, to accept you as mine—but you're not doing it!' A tear spilled down her cheek and she swiped it away with the back of her hand. 'I'll become immortal soon, and I'll be impervious to most injuries, yet you couldn't wait for me to turn? Really, MacRieve, a mortal, giving birth to the offspring of a nearly seven-foot-tall werewolf? And Lykae conceive two and three at a time, don't they? Do you think I would survive the labor?'

'Damn it, I dinna think of that.'

As Lachlain always said, 'Ach, Bowe, you've ed up this time.'

'You never considered these things?'

'Mariketa, I am a product of my times. For most of my life, males and females desired bairns and would do anything to have them. And since you doona act mortal or look it, each show of your power makes it easier for me to forget that you are vulnerable still. I would never want anything to happen to you.'

'Because it would hurt you!' she cried. 'Everyone thinks you were so selfless in your love for your dead mate. But the truth is, you're the most selfish male I've ever known. You ache for your mate because you don't want to feel empty or guilty over her death. Not out of love for her.'

'You go too far, Mariketa,' he said, even as her comment resonated within him—because at some level, he'd begun to wonder... if he had ever loved Mariah.

He'd been with the witch for mere days. Had whatever he was feeling for the lass already overshadowed what he'd experienced with Mariah?

'I don't think so. The tomb incident wasn't an anomaly. You really are a merciless bastard. Just get away from me.'

'Mariketa—'

'Get away.' She reached for her mirror. 'Or I will put you away.'

'Oh, no, no, bloody hell if you're doing that again.' He'd be damned if he'd sit there and watch her whisper to a mirror in a conversation he couldn't hear.

'What is the appeal of that cursed thing?'