Lucy Monroe - Moon Craving

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.”

“I already do.”

Soberness filtered through his happiness. “You were leaving me.”

“I was going to my sister for advice on how to keep you.”

Humbled that she would have been willing to fight for him though he had not proved himself worthy of the effort, he broke the kiss to meet her eyes. “Thank you.” Then he could not help himself adding, “But if you had talked to me, I would have told you I will always be yours.”

“I was angry. You had withheld your wolf from me and the intimacy of this kind of talking. That hurt so much, to know you could deliberately keep something from me that would be so welcome.”

“I am sorry.” He hoped she could feel his sincerity because there were no words that could express his profound regret at depriving her of their mindspeak. “I am ashamed to say I never thought how doing so would hurt you.”

“I did not consider how hurt you would be to find out I had hidden my deafness from you. Love does not always make us brilliant.”

“Or brave.”

She brushed her fingertip over his lips. “Knowing you love me gives me all the courage I need.”

“That is as it should be.”

“Kiss me.”

How could he deny her? He pressed his lips to hers, his body surging with renewed passion with that small caress of mouths. He cupped her breast, kneading it gently and brushing his thumb over her turgid nipple.

She moaned into the kiss as a whimper sounded in his head. How could he have held back from sharing in this intimate communication? He did not know, but he did know that he would never do so again.

Her small hands released their tight clasp behind his neck to rove over his body, and he reveled in every touch.

Needing to be inside her, he rolled them so she was on top. “Ride me, sweet wife. Please.”

She did not demur but slid down until her silky wet folds met the tip of his granite-hard cock and then engulfed it. Velvet fire enveloped his dick, and Talorc howled in ecstasy.

A feral grin worthy of any Chrechte femwolf creased Abigail’s lovely features. She rode him with unfettered passion, freer than she had ever been with him, and he realized that sharing his wolf with her had bridged that final gap between them.

His orgasm built faster than he was ready for, but Abigail was right there with him, screaming out her pleasure in his head while his wolf howled.

In that moment, they truly fulfilled the Chrechte mating promise of being one in body, mind and spirit.

The next morning, Talorc found a small stream for Abigail to bathe in before she dressed and they returned to the beach.

Guaire and Niall were locked in a kiss, their arms wrapped around each other. The beauty of their passion took her breath away. She said as much through mindspeak to Talorc.

“’Tis love.”

“Yes.”

“I can’t help noticing they are both dressed.”

“Aye.”

“Where did Niall get the plaid?”

“From the cave. We keep some with the boats.”

“I’m sure there is one in there for you as well, am I right?”

“Are you saying you do not want to hunt naked with me?”

“How astute of you to take my meaning.”

Talorc threw his head back and laughed. Abigail noticed that he sent every sound through mindspeak so she could share in it all with him.

She turned to him, “I love you so much, Talorc.”

“I love you, my precious angel.”

Guaire stepped back from Niall, only to be pulled against the big warrior’s side. Burnished streaks appeared across his cheekbones. “Good morning, my lady. Laird.”

“Good morning, dear friend. You look happy.”

Guaire looked up at Niall, the scarred warrior giving him a far sappier smile than she would have thought him capable of. “I am. Very.”

“I am so glad.”

“Thank you. You and the laird have worked out your differences?”

“We have. He won’t let even his king send me away.”

Guaire nodded in approval. “Of course not. You are our lady.”

“And you are mated,” Talorc said.

The brush of pink turned into a full blush that spread right down Guaire’s neck. “We are.”

“All this time, he has not been afraid of me,” Niall said, directing his words to Talorc.

Talorc’s brows drew together in confusion. “His actions . . .”

“He wanted me.” Oh, Niall looked proud. “So much so that he trembled in my presence. He always avoided being too near because he feared I would realize his secret desire.”

“Secrets keep mates apart,” Talorc said with certainty.

Niall nodded, something passing between the two of them that said their communication went deeper than the mere words.

Niall came to kneel in front of Abigail. “I owe you a sincere apology, my own dear lady and friend.”

“I am still your friend?”

“Yes. If you will have me.” He looked down as if ashamed and then lifted his head so she could read his lips again. “I was jealous.”

“Of the time Guaire spent with me,” she guessed, finally understanding.

“Yes. I thought he had fallen for you, and though I knew he would never betray his laird, I was furious with envy that he seemed to find in you what he could not see in me—the Chrechte ordained by God to be his mate.”