Kresley Cole - MacRieve

And now he was to go the better part of a week without returning. At the thought of the agony he’d soon experience, his Lykae beast stirred. Though his da, uncles, and older cousins were training him to harness that wild force within him, Will unleashed it each time Ruelle mated him.

“One day, Ruelle, you will push me too far.”

“Oh? And then what will you do?” she asked with a triumphant look, for they both knew the truth.

He was bound to her for eternity. Doubly so—not just because she was his Lykae mate, but because of the tie he’d willfully borne after three visits to her bed.

He was fettered to her for the rest of his life. Or for the length of hers.

“But before you go, my love, I truly do need once more.”

With a painful surge, his exhausted body reacted against his will, readying for her to take. He grimaced, panic setting in, his breaths shallowing. “You told me you’d no’ use your strew again!” It was how she’d gotten him to mate her in the beginning. He shuddered to remember those times. A sickly feeling roiled in his gut as he struggled to withstand her, knowing how futile it was.

“Why fight me?” Eyes glowing green, she dropped the sheet. “Any male would kill to be with me.” She traipsed over and embraced him, pressing his face against her breast, against scented white flesh.

He couldn’t get enough air. “I canna—Ruelle, nay!” Already his beast was rising, protectively.

She pulled back, grasping his chin, hard. “Your eyes turn blue,” she said with a satisfied smile. “Your beast and I will take care of everything. Just as we always do.”

“You promised me!”

She pressed him down on her bed, then rose above him, the position she chose without fail. “Look at you, my love. Who could possibly blame me?”

And the deep dragged him down. . . .

Conall Keep, Northern Outpost of the Woods of Murk

THREE NIGHTS LATER

All day the sickness had grown worse until Will’s body was a mass of pain. By midnight, he felt like his bones were breaking. Outside, the storm gusted winds, but the great Conall Keep was indifferent to them.

He wrapped his arms around himself, rocking over his damp sheets, praying he wouldn’t be plagued with hallucinations this time.

No use fighting this. He would go to Ruelle tonight.

The idea of running for leagues through a blizzard in this condition made him shudder. Not to mention that he’d be entering the Woods alone, weak, in the middle of the night.

Fantastical creatures teemed in that forest, bloodthirsty beings from other realms.

Munro stirred in his nearby bed, as if sensing his twin’s distress, even in sleep. Will envied Munro, who could remain snug in his bed, warm and safe within the impervious keep of their ancestors.

This place had been built by them for future Sentinels of the Woods, the warriors tasked with making sure the creatures of Murk never strayed beyond its boundaries—and that Lykae never ventured within.

When Will rose to dress, stabbing his legs into trews, Munro roused and sat up. “Where are you going?” He lit a candle, illuminating the room they shared.

“ ’Tis no concern o’ yours.”

A flash of hurt flickered in Munro’s golden eyes—eyes exactly like his own, only . . . graver. Despite being identical twins, he and Munro had opposing personalities. Will was oft called impetuous like their mother, Munro solemn like their da.

“You used to tell me everything, Will.”

Ruelle had warned against that. She’d helped him see Munro’s jealous nature. Munro was envious of his twin, simmering with hatred toward his slightly older brother, the heir.

I’m much more mature for my age, and Munro knows it, canna stand it.

In fact, she’d helped Will see the faults in all his friends.

“Are you going into the Woods?” Munro asked, pulling on his own breeches. “To see that female in the odd cottage?”

A stark contrast to the dreary woods, Ruelle’s home was brightly painted, with intricate eaves and spindles, as if from a fey’s dream. And Munro had never even seen the inside! It was not only fantastical, but mystical —she’d told him it had been standing for centuries, immune to decay.

“What do you know of her?” Will asked, struggling to focus his vision as another wave of pain hit. The tunic he’d just donned was already moist with sweat.

“I know the tales surrounding her.”

“That she’s a hideous old crone who lures youths to their doom? That she fattens them up, then feeds on their flesh? The rumors are false.” The fact that Ruelle cooked feasts for him and then used his body for nourishment wasn’t lost on Will. “Are you going to tell Da?” Or, gods forbid, their mother. No she-wolf could be fiercer than Ailis MacRieve.

’Twas one thing that Will had found his mate in a different species; ’twas another that he’d been lying to all of them.

“No need,” Munro said quietly. “Mam and Da already suspect you’ve been sneaking out.”

“Because you told them!”

Again came that flash of hurt, like a creature kicked in the flank. “You ken I would no’ do that, brother.”

Will . . . believed him. At these times, when Munro continued to prove loyal to him, Will couldn’t reconcile all the things Ruelle had told him.

His beast was cut from the same soul as Munro’s; it longed to run beside his brother’s forever. Surely Munro felt the same way?

“What has happened to you, Will? Why do you never talk to me? Why do you never play or laugh anymore?” Munro looked wary and vulnerable—a mere boy.

Do I look so young? “It’s complicated. Just let me handle this as I need to, and I’ll be back soon.” Will finished dressing. “Mayhap we’ll talk then.”

Without a backward glance, he hastened from the room to descend the main stairs and head out into the blustery night. He’d just felt the first crunch of snow beneath his boots when he heard, “And where might you be off to, Uilleam Andriu MacRieve?”

Mam. Oh, shite. He turned to face her, trying to disguise how bad his shakes had gotten.

She emerged from the shadows, joining him under the swirling snow. Her cheeks were pink, her doe-brown eyes narrowed. “You were too ill to come down for meals today—or to do your chores—and now I find you stealing away in the middle of the night?”

He had waited too long, should’ve made a run for Ruelle’s last night. If Mam kept him from her tonight . . . Much longer, and he’d grow crazed. A hallucination danced at the edges of his vision, the dark closing in. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other; both felt like they’d snap at any second.

She tilted her head. “You go to meet a lass, no doubt. Thirteen is too young, son. Your da will tell you the same.”

“I know, Mam. I’m sorry.” Ah, gods, my bones.

She cupped his clammy face, her eyes going wide. “Ach, my Uilleam, you’re burning up!”

“I have to go!” He could almost scent Ruelle’s perfumes. Could almost taste the rouge with which she adorned her skin.

He could all but feel her milk-white arms wrapping around him. “Can you no’ trust me, Mam?”

“You’re sick, no’ thinking clearly. You canna be out in the snow; you need to be abed.”

“Please, just go back inside and doona worry over this. I’ll return anon.”

She snatched his arm and yelled over her shoulder, “Dugh! Come out here! Now. ”

Will heard two sets of footsteps stomping down the stairs into the main hall. Da and Munro.

Desperation boiled up inside him. “I’ve got to go!” He flung his arm free, shoving against his mother.

Mam tripped, falling down into the hard-packed snow. She gaped up at him, her eyes watering. “Will?”