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“The short stick?” Bea crossed her arms over her breasts, feeling not at all embarrassed by her nudity, but oh, so curious at the wolf’s comment. “What in mossy misery does that mean?”
“The short stick? You know. When there’s a less-than-desirable task to be done, someone breaks a bunch of sticks and holds them in his hand, with their length concealed in his fist. Whoever draws the shortest stick is the loser.”
“I see. So I’m your short stick?”
He shrugged and offered a wincing nod.
“Peachy.” She swallowed back the scream that vied for release. She’d only hoped he would be nice. Not cruel like her father. Foolish of her to wish for so much.
“Sorry, I shouldn’t have explained that to you,” he said, rubbing a palm against the side of his head. “Do you want a drink? I brought in a bottle of wine.”
“No, I’m cool. And I think you have imbibed far too much already.”
“Mead,” he said with a drunken grin.
“Yeah, from the little I’ve seen at the reception, you mortal realmers can’t handle your mead. Let’s get this done with so the witness can go to bed, and I’m really tired, so...”
“Yeah, me, too. So it’s just business between us? Doing this for the home teams?”
Bea smirked. Some home team she was on. “I’m not even on the team. When teams pick sides, I’m always the one left standing.”
He cast her a curious raise of brow. “I‘ve had that same thought. Huh.”
“Right. For the team,” she agreed with as much enthusiasm as she could muster, which was zero.
The werewolf strode closer, and Bea climbed up onto the bed but didn’t take her eyes from his, which swept over her body appreciatively. Was the wolf actually hungry for her? Good. That would make this go quicker. She could do this. She didn’t have to feel anything for him; she just had to go through the motions. Seal the deal. Worry about the whole happily-ever-after crap in the morning.
He slid a hand below her breast and leaned down to lick her nipple. Bea sucked in a breath as that contact flamed over her skin and tickled her into an appreciative wiggle. Wow. Most men would have started with a kiss and worked lower, but she had no arguments about this mode of attack. Business, and all that. The wolf was already at the getting in the getting-’er-done part.
Stones, but he really knew how to stir her system to alert, all nerves fired and ready to receive. He moved to her other breast and laved her tight nipple, then he chuckled.
Chuckled?
“What the heck?” Bea asked. “Why am I so funny to you?”
“You’re not.” He shook his head, then nipped her skin quickly before giving her another deep chuckle. “I’m just...nervous. This is—”
“Weird?” She raked her fingers through his soft hair but enjoyed the sensation so much she abruptly pulled back. “Uncomfortable? So wrong it’s almost right?”
“Yeah. Don’t misunderstand me. I’m hot for your body, Beatrice. It’s just, we’re doing this backward. Normally a couple gets to know one another before really getting to know one another like this.”
“Like we have a choice?”
He followed her gaze to the alcove by the door. The feet were now crossed at the ankle. “I guess not.”
“I’m nervous, too.” She stroked his cheek. His beard was soft, and she tickled her fingers along it. He nuzzled his face into her palm like a cat seeking strokes. Except he wasn’t a cat. And she was as cool with this moment as she could get. She’d love to take the time to run her fingers over his skin and map out his muscles, but... “The longer we put on a show for you-know-who, the freakier it gets.”
“I agree. I’m hard as a rock. Ready to go. But I want you to be ready.”
“That’s thoughtful. But don’t worry about me. You are some kind of sexy. Just looking at you gets me hot. I’ve been ready for a while now. So come inside me, husband. Let’s seal this deal.”
She lay back against the pillows, sitting half-upright, and beckoned him closer. Kir slipped off the leather pants and his erection slapped up against his stomach. Bea sucked in her lower lip. Great Goddess of Goodness, that was a nice one. She could imagine taking her time with that thick column later. When they were alone.
The wolf got on the bed and knelt between her legs, lowering his body over her. Avoiding eye contact. Oh, stones, did she appreciate not having to stare into his gorgeous brown sparklers at this particularly sensitive moment. Just get it done. You can do this.
She grasped his hot length and guided him inside her. He stretched her sweetly. She bit her lip, thinking she’d gotten the long stick for sure.
Heh. This nervous anxiety was making her silly. But better to go with humor than to turn into a crazy, jittery nerve-bucket.
Slowly, he slid in and out of her, the thickness of him tugging at her pinnacle and teasing her insides to a quivering anticipation. This was already better than ninety percent of her dates back in Faery. Because...well, just because. She didn’t want to go there.
Because surrendering to the moment worked right now. It made her forget. About everything. This was actually...pretty freakin’ awesome.
She moaned, and Kir stopped his thrusts. “Am I hurting you?”
“Oh, no, wolf. What you’re doing feels great. Faster.”
“If I go any faster, I’ll come, and that can’t happen until I shift if we’re going to do the bonding correctly.”
“Right, you werewolves bond in shifted shape. I sense this is going to get interesting.”
“Real fast. You ready for my werewolf, little faery?”
No. And maybe. And, stones, yes, she was ready.
This day had been insane, what with being forced to leave her home with nothing more than her bridal gown and the blade strapped to her thigh. No mementos, but she hadn’t needed any. She’d even stood in the forest and watched as sidhe magic built her wedding dais and this bonding cottage, all the while her heart thudding faster and faster, wondering if this world could be worse than her own.
And then to stand beside the wolf, her heart thundering, and promise to love and honor him without knowing what kind of man he was. Kind, domineering, cruel or, perhaps, weak?
But it was going to end on a high note if she had any say about it. And that note would come from her as she cried out in pleasure.
“Let’s do this,” she said, shuffling back on the bed. She wanted to come right now. She wanted...foreplay and emotion and his hands all over her, both inside and out.
But tonight wasn’t for any of that. “Let’s get ’er done.”
* * *
The faery’s bright pink eyes widened as Kir’s body began the shift. It took only a matter of seconds for his bones to change and his skin to stretch over lengthening muscles and shifting interior organs. Fur sprouted from his pores and his jaw grew longer and teeth made for tearing meat filled his maw.
When in his half man/half wolf werewolf form, he had thoughts as a man and as a wolf. He could understand some spoken language, but for the most part, he acted on instinct. And instinct told him a ripe female waited for him.
She scrambled off the bed, seemingly fearful of his towering form, but when she stopped at the headboard, she turned. A tiny smile curled her pink lips and she crooked a beckoning finger at him.
The werewolf recognized that as an invitation.
* * *
Gasping, Bea caught her hands on the headboard fashioned from woven branches while the werewolf howled behind her. He had reached orgasm, as had she. And, man, that had been a cosmic thing. She could now entirely get behind the meaning of bonding in werewolf terms. Big furry wolf man, meet the quivering, sexually satisfied faery chick? Fur and claws? She could deal. And she had. In werewolf form Kir was mostly man-shaped anyway, and his cock was all man.
Yet she was suddenly ravenous. And not for food. She’d been born with an inexplicable hunger, which had been sustained by drinking ichor from her fellow sidhe ever since puberty. Here, in the mortal realm, she had prepared herself for her first taste of mortal blood. Because, if not ichor, the only other option was blood. It sustained. And satisfied. It was tied in to sex and the orgasm and the desire to pleasure herself as deeply as possible.
And she would not ignore that hunger.
Much as Bea assumed the wolf was not going to like what she did next—she twisted about and hugged the big furry lug about his wide, panting chest. Sinking in her fangs at the werewolf’s throat caused him to whip back his head in protest. A talon cut down her thigh as he attempted to pull her off him.
Bea clung. The blood spilling into her mouth was hot and thick and tasted better than mead or even ichor.
Now, this was her kind of bonding.
Chapter 4 (#ulink_116012cb-942e-5880-a74d-4603974c7bb6)
Suddenly the fur Bea had clenched in her grasp receded and her fingers slipped over male skin slickened with his own blood. Kir’s exaggerated form, which had been mostly human in werewolf shape, save the wolfish head, returned to his regular structure. He pulled his neck away from her mouth. Her fangs dripped blood onto her thighs.
Her new husband pushed her into the pile of pillows jammed against the headboard. Kir slammed the mattress with a fist. “What the—” He slapped a palm over his neck, though she had landed the bite much closer to his shoulder than she’d intended. “You bit me!”
“Yeah? What did you expect? You shagged me in the literal sense, buddy. Shaggy fur and all.”
“We needed to bond. You knew that had to happen. You agreed to it!”
“That I did.”
“But what’s the bite about?” He gestured to her fangs. “You...you...”
His panicked expression was comical, but only until Bea realized he had been blindsided, and she should have waited to answer her hunger until after he was more familiar with her needs.
“I was in the moment.” She retracted her fangs and pushed a long tangle of hair over her shoulder. Dragging a finger through the blood droplet on her thigh, she then licked it clean. Mercy, that tasted incredible. “I needed to feed.”
“Feed?” Kir exhaled. “What the hell are you? Oh.” He fisted the air. “Hell no! You can’t be. No, no, no. Please tell me you are not half vampire.”
She sat up pertly and wiggled her hips, more from fresh nerves than defiance. And, really, sarcasm and snark were her best means of defense. “Did the fangs give me away? You are one perceptive werewolf.”
“Bea? Tell me what the hell I married.”
She definitely did not like his angry voice. But, seriously, what had he expected? It wasn’t as though Malrick was going to hand over a valued full-blooded sidhe daughter for marriage.
“I may be half vampire,” she conceded, unable to meet his accusatory glare. “But I don’t know. I’ve lived on ichor all my life. Ichor is equal to blood in the mortal realm. And my eyes are pink. I know, right? Most sidhe eyes are violet.”
Kir crushed his palms across his forehead and over his skull. “I can’t believe this! Malrick is your— What is your mother?”
Bea shrugged. “Never met her.”
“Didn’t your father tell you who or what your mother was?”
“Daddy dearest? Pfft. He likes to keep secrets. Only, he never lets me forget what a disappointment I am to him. Which is, I suspect, why you got stuck with me. Sent the rotten egg of the bunch off to the mortal realm. Like you said—” she pointed a thumb at herself “—short stick.”
Kir wiped at the bite marks on his neck. “I assumed Malrick would not send a favorite. But a vampire is...”
“Not your first pick for a wife, eh?”
“There’s nothing wrong with vampires, I just... You know werewolves develop a nasty blood hunger from a vampire bite? That is not something I want to happen to me. I pray your vampire taint did not have a chance to enter my bloodstream.”
“Sorry.” Way to make her feel special. Not. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s never been confirmed that my non-sidhe half is vampire. But I have been drinking ichor since I was a teen.”
“Never been confirmed?”
“My father won’t talk about my mother. I guess she was vamp, though, because I have these fun things,” she said as she tapped her fang, and she caught her husband’s wince. “Right. I’m used to that look. Now I’m kind of glad I bit you.”
He gripped her by the upper arm. “You will not do it again. A blood hunger is the worst for a werewolf like me.”
“Then you’d be like me. A disappointment.” Bea tugged from his grip and scooted away from him on the bed.
Yeah, so she’d known this wasn’t going to be a romance-and-roses wedding night. She probably should have asked to bite first. Her bad. She had barely gotten a taste, but the drops she’d licked from her lips were hot and thick and so, so tasty. She’d bite him again in an instant. But she had probably spoiled the chance of that ever happening again.
“Yeah, whatever,” she offered, using dismissal as defense. “No more biting. I’m excited to taste mortal blood anyway, because yours was—”
Bea caught Kir’s openmouthed gape. It was too familiar. And she did know how to protect herself by pulling on the cloak of indifference. “Quit looking at me like that. I’m not the enemy. Or evil. You’re just like everyone else. Hating me because I’m different. A dark one. Something Malrick despises. I—I hate you!”
“I hate you, too,” the wolf muttered.
He sat there, fingering the bite wounds at his neck, wincing and growling. She had barely broken the skin! And Bea couldn’t feel at all ashamed for taking what she’d wanted. He’d taken from her. He’d slammed her up against the headboard and filled her with that hot werewolf hard-on. And she had taken it all because—oh, mercy, it had felt great.
Wasn’t that what a marriage was all about? Give and take?
Very well, so she could feel the tiniest bit of regret at having possibly ignited a blood hunger in her werewolf husband. But really? Did the guy even realize his erection was full mast again? He was so ready for round three, or four, or whatever round came next.
And so was Bea. Because the slight blood scent on him had aroused her to some kind of wanting, needy bit of lust and faery dust.
A glance to the doorway and she did not spy the feet dangling from behind the wall. Their witness had fled, evidence secured. Would he report their wedding-night fight? Did it matter? Malrick hadn’t come to the ceremony. He’d gotten rid of the dark one. The daughter he’d wished had never existed. What did he care what happened to her in this realm?
With this wolf. Who was sending out waves of anger that gushed from his skin and surrounded her like a foul mist. Skin that sparkled with glints of faery dust. Faeries had a tendency to release dust during orgasm. Couldn’t be avoided.
Bea looked over her shoulder at her new husband. Stones, he was gorgeous. The perspiration pearling his glinting skin looked lickable. She didn’t need blood anymore. She just wanted more wolf cock. Inside her. Slower this time. And sans audience.
A teasing desire lowered her voice to a hush. She traced a fingertip along his knee and up his thigh. “Want to have sex again? Promise I won’t bite.”
Kir swiped a hand over his neck and studied the blood. He gritted his jaws and growled. She kissed his shoulder and slid a finger down his hard length. “I’ll let you be on top again. I’m wet for you, wolf.”
With a shake of his head, he answered resoundingly, “Yes.”
* * *
A bird chirped outside the wedding cottage. Either it was too early, or Kir had drunk too much last night. Either way, he’d never felt like growling at a bird until now.
It was the mead. Had to be.
He strode about the cottage, picking up his clothes from the cushy moss floor. The leather pants were still clean. Good enough for work, so he pulled them on. Outside the tree-trunk-walled room, the only living beings were the birds and squirrels. The wedding guests had left throughout the night, finally giving them peace. He’d seen the red-capped brownie who had been in the alcove by the door scamper out, as well.
The humiliation at having been watched while having sex was a new one. But it wasn’t as though hundreds of sidhe and wolves from his pack hadn’t been outside and within hearing distance. The music and revelry had been loud. But when he’d howled during orgasm?
