Moon Craving

“You will never be with another man. You are my true mate.”

“But I’m just human. You clearly don’t want me for your mate, sacred or otherwise.”

“That is not true; even if I had a choice, I would never want another woman.”

“You do have a choice, especially now with your king offering to get rid of me.”

“We are sacred mates. I am Chrechte.”

“So?”

“My wolf will never accept another woman.”

“What does that mean?”

“You see this?” He indicated his hard member.

“Yes.”

“With another woman, it would be as limp as milk toast.”

“No, you are far too . . . too . . . um . . . virile,” she said finally.

He shook his head. “As Chrechte I am not physically capable of mating any but my true mate once my wolf has found her.”

“So, it is your wolf that wants to keep me.”

Chapter 20

A starburst of understanding went off inside Talorc.

He grabbed his precious wife and held her close, looking down into her soft brown gaze, he spoke aloud as well as through their mindspeak. “That is what I told myself. I believed my wolf felt possessive of you, that he wanted to protect you at all costs,” he said as the knowledge came over him.

“Are you and your wolf such different beings?” she asked in her soft voice with new tears shimmering in her eyes. “Emily does not speak of Lachlan as if he and his wolf are different beings.”

“They are not. My wolf and I are not. We are one in the same, but in my desire to protect myself from making my father’s mistakes, I tried to separate my feelings as a laird from those of my wolf. It does not work. I love you with every bit of my wolf’s essence, but that is even truer as a man because my wolf cannot share physically in that final consummation of our mating.”

“You love me?”

“More than my own life. So much that life is not worth living without you in it.”

“You don’t mean that. You can’t.”

“I can. I do. Please, believe me, sweet wife. My own precious angel.” He looked at her with nothing less than naked longing. “Do not leave me to the loneliness I knew before you.”

“You had a whole clan before I came.”

“With not one the true mate of my soul. It took a clever Englishwoman to fill that place inside my heart, to complete the other half of my Chrechte spirit.”

“You said I am no longer English.”

“You are not.”

“I am yours.”

“And I am yours.”

He said words in her head that she remembered from their mating. “Say them for me, this time speak the vows with truth in your heart.”

“I did the first time. I didn’t know what I was saying, but in my heart I was giving everything of myself to you.”

“But . . .”

“I told you I had changed my plans once we wed. I no longer wanted to be reunited with my sister more than anything. I wanted to stay with you.”

“You meant the oaths you gave,” he repeated in wonder, needing to take in this truth to heal the wounds in his heart.

“Absolutely.”

“That is good because I can never let you go.”

“Never.”

“You will allow my wolf to scent you now?”

No fear showed in her brown eyes. “Yes.”

Dropping to all fours, he let the wolf take him. His already acute senses grew stronger, and the scent of his mate’s emotions mixed with those of the forest. She smiled down at him, love and acceptance glowing on her beautiful features.

He tilted his head back and howled in joy, sending the sound through their mindspeak link.

Her smile became a grin.“Your wolf is happy.”

“I am happy.”

“I love you, Talorc,” she said inside his head with a conviction her spoken words could not hold.

“You do not fear me in this form?”

“Never.”

He chuffed with happiness as he rubbed his head against her. “Take off your clothes, I need to scent your skin.”

Giggling with clear delight, Abigail undressed.

Though the sight of his wife’s nude body would always affect his libido, the most pressing emotion he felt right then was relief. And joy. Finally, he could scent her properly.

He rubbed her belly, leaving his scent behind for all Chrechte to know she was his.

She brushed her hands down the sides of his head, laughter lurking in her gaze. “Tag, you are it,” she said with amusement in her mindspeak voice. Then she turned and ran.

He bounded after her, nuzzling her back when he reached her. The playful nature of his wolf asserted itself and he turned in a circle and loped away, saying, “Your turn.”

He did not go too fast, knowing she ran with the handicap of having only two legs. She caught him at the edge of the clearing, leaping at him. He let her roll him, hearing the wonder-filled laughter in his head. His mate liked to play, and for that he gave thanks. He was not a lighthearted man, more by circumstance than by nature.

But she was showing him that with her, he had a place to let his delight with the good things in life have free rein. They kept the game of tag and gentle tussling up until his body reminded him that there were things he liked to do with his mate even more than playing. He allowed his human form to take him over as he rolled her beneath him.

He slammed his mouth down onto hers and she responded as if she’d been waiting for it. Her mouth was sweet nectar, he could not get enough. His tongue plundered her mouth, but she met every caress of his tongue with one of her own.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, holding on to him so tightly he thought even he would have trouble prying her loose. Not that he wanted to do that.

Not at all. “I will never let you go,” he said into her mind.

“Never. You are my husband, my true mate.” A wry laugh sounded in his head. “I thought you saw me as a friend.”

“You are my best and truest friend.”

“As you are mine, but one day I will get even with you for letting me prattle on about being friends when you meant we were married in the Chrechte way.”

“Duly noted. And one day you will trust me as much as you do your sister.”