Celtic Moon (23 page)

“Elen assures me they’ll be back any time now. And not to worry because everything is fine.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Yes.”

“Then take peace in that.”

“You’re right.” Feeling recharged, Sophie absorbed one last hug before she pulled away. “Thank you . . . for not listening to me when I wanted you to stay behind.”

“I love you, Sophie Marie, with all my heart; I will stand by your side until my very last breath. Don’t ever doubt that. Now go clean your face and march downstairs and celebrate with everyone else. I’ll be down soon.”

Listening to her mother’s sound advice, she changed into dress slacks with a fitted rose-colored jacket. The Serpent made an unattractive bulge underneath, but it was the most formal outfit she’d brought with her and would have to do. She even applied some makeup before returning to the merriment below.

Platters of food had been placed on the dining hall table, roasted meats and breads filled with stew, along with cakes and wine on side tables. Humans and wolves filled the house, more than Sophie had ever seen together at one time.

Enid barked orders to anyone who walked through the kitchen, pushing edible treats toward those who had hands. Those who did not had their own table positioned against the wall, about two feet high. Tucker and two other wolves seemed to be enjoying their own personal buffet.

Porter nodded at her as she passed through the outer hallway. He wore a black button-down shirt, rolled up to the elbows. He stood with his shoulders back, his sharp blue eyes scanning the area. “Will you take a walk with me around the gardens?” When she hesitated, he added, “You’re looking like a dose of fresh air might do you some good.”

She stared at his offered arm, wondering why she had the sudden urge to smile. Maybe the people in Rhuddin Village weren’t the only ones making progress.

“Oh, hell . . . Why not?” She wrapped her arm through his, not surprised by the coiled muscles underneath the thin black material, having felt them once before on a less celebratory occasion.

The night air washed over her like a soothing balm, fresh and uncluttered with voices. Porter led her down a cobblestone path, his posture tense as Tucker’s soft padded steps followed.

“Do you want to pet him?” she teased, amazed that she felt at ease enough to do so.

“Hardly.”

“Where are we going?” They had arrived at a secluded section of the courtyard, with arbors and pergolas built overhead, tangled with rose canes and ivy branches. The night sky was shrouded, as was the interior to anything that might dwell above, such as cameras or satellites in the sky. A tall hedge of evergreens formed a dense wall.

It was a private garden with a distinct purpose, she realized, designed for a race to walk as their other selves and remain undiscovered to an outside world.

“Dylan wanted to see you alone,” Porter said. “Before the crowd descends.”

A massive wolf prowled under the canopy first, his black fur blending with the night. A brown wolf, lighter in color and smaller in size, followed.

“Joshua?” she whispered. “Oh, thank God. Are you all right?”

“He’s fine, Sophie.” Dylan stepped forward from behind a cluster of pine trees, having changed back into his human form. They must have stopped by the oak tree before returning, as he wore the same clothes he had on before shifting, carrying the others’ in his hands. “Our son learns well and adjusts quickly.” He paused while his voice clogged with emotion, with reverence. “This night was a gift I never thought possible.”

“I’m glad for you both,” she said with sincerity. If this ability made Joshua stronger, better able to defend himself around others of his kind, she would learn to be thankful. “But why have you changed back and Joshua hasn’t?”

“I would like our people to witness his transformation, but I wanted your agreement beforehand.”

“You’re asking me?” She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I know how difficult this is for you to accept. But it would mean a great deal to them.
And
to me.”

“And what if I disagree?”

His shoulders sagged with acceptance. “Then Luc will help Joshua shift right now before we go into the house.”

“I see.” Not caring who watched, Sophie closed the distance between them. She trailed her arms around Dylan’s neck, smiling at his bewildered expression, and pulled him down to meet her mouth. “If our son is okay with a demonstration,” she whispered against her husband’s lips, “you have my blessing to invite them out to watch.”

“You are the most perplexing woman,” he said, then tightened his arms around her waist and claimed her mouth with a possessive kiss. When she began to respond in earnest, he set her back down, shaking his head. His voice lowered to a harsh whisper, letting her know she wasn’t the only one affected. “Will I ever understand you?”

“Respect my opinion, Dylan, keep me informed, and you may find I can be the most cooperative wife.”

A bark of laughter fell from his mouth. “I will remember that, Sophie.”

Porter cleared his throat. “If you two are quite finished now,” he said dryly, “I will go inside and invite the others out.”

Dylan reached down and took Sophie’s hand within his. They stood united as their guests filed down the darkened path with expectant faces, some filled with hope, others with doubt. Wolves bled from the woods, joining the gathering of magic born. Voices murmured in hushed anticipation. All eyes fell to Joshua.

Luc sauntered forward, all black fur and coiled muscle; he was the beast of legend in flesh and fur. Still shrouded by the canopy of gardens, Luc led Joshua by example, shifting to his human form. His transition was smooth, like a dance of two forms blending into one, and then forming into another. The scent of elements filled the air, of spring and earth and promise, more prominent as Joshua bowed his head and began his journey back to human.

She held her breath to the sound of breaking bone and muffled moans. Having witnessed this once before didn’t ease her torment, however her reaction to her child’s pain became easier to hide. As she stood unmoving, Dylan found her hand and brought it to his mouth, uncurling her fist to place a kiss inside her palm.

A quiet calm settled around the moonlit garden. Luc stood proud as he watched his nephew complete the transformation. Joshua unfolded into a standing position, naked and keeping his head down. Before long, he cleared his throat and tested his voice.

“Ah, Mom,” he said, holding out his arm. “Would you throw me my jeans?”

A great burden of worry eased from Sophie’s chest, made verbal by an uncontrollable sigh of relief. “Sure.” She looked around and found the blue material bunched by her feet where Dylan must have dropped it. She scooped up the jeans and tossed them in Joshua’s direction. Although she wanted to go to him, she kept her distance, allowing her son to be seen as a man who didn’t need a hovering mother.

“And just so you know,” he added, catching the pants with one hand and pulling them back on with swift movements, “I can hear and see
everything
when I’m a wolf. I’m really happy you and Dad are getting along so well, but
jeez
 . . . can you keep it behind closed doors next time?”

T
HE GAIETY OF THE NIGHT DWINDLED INTO A SOMBER
morning, wrought with drizzling rain and unsettled skies as villagers returned to their homes and prepared for the gathering. Dylan had yet to spend time alone with Sophie, having devoted the last few hours to Luc and the guards reviewing security before the other leaders’ arrival.

After a quick search of his home, he found his wife in their bedroom, staring out the window. She sat in a large wingback chair, watching the courtyard below.

She looked up when he approached and offered a brief smile. “You just missed Joshua. He and Malsum are doing more exercises with the sword you gave him. You should be able to catch up with them in the courtyard.”

Dylan walked over to the side of the chair and covered her hand with his. “It’s you I’ve come to see. Did you manage to sleep any?”

“Some. More than you, I think.” Her gaze dropped to her lap and her voice softened. “I missed you last night.”

Her shy admission made his body respond with uncomfortable vigor. “No more than I missed you,” he assured her, adjusting his stance. “I was needed—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted with a frown. “I understand your responsibilities will keep you occupied, especially now.”

In an effort to expel a burden of emotion, Dylan shook his head, wondering if he would ever get used to having—how had she phrased it?—a
cooperative
wife. He stroked her cold fingers until she relaxed. “There are no words to express what last night meant to me,” he whispered. “I’d never allowed myself to hope that I would run with our son.”

She tugged her hand out of his grasp, only to rest it on the side of his face. “Make him strong, Dylan. Teach him how to defend himself against these Guardians.”

“I will,” he vowed. It was a promise he had given before, and would give as many times as needed, knowing he would honor his word by making Joshua the strongest warrior of their kind. And still, for her, it may never be enough, because danger would always darken their lives.

Her hand fell to her lap and plucked at the folds of her pants, a nervous gesture that betrayed her worry. “When do you expect the leaders to begin arriving?”

“This evening, after sunset.” He allowed his gaze to travel down her body, appreciative of how the plain T-shirt and sweatpants hugged her curves. He frowned, noting the slight bulge against her hip. “I will ask that you not run tomorrow morning, as I am sensing this thing you do is a daily routine.”

“It keeps me in shape,” she informed him with only a hint of annoyance in her voice. “But I’ll stop until you tell me it’s safe to start again.”

“You’re wearing your gun,” he pointed out. “And not the Serpent.”

“It’s in the box. I did wear it while running, along with my gun, which, I will admit, was a bit cumbersome.” She gave an unrepentant shrug. “I’m used to my gun. It’s instinctive for me to carry it.”

Frustration tightened his chest but he kept his voice calm. “There is a reason I trained you to use the Serpent,” he explained. “In battle against a shifter, the only thing your gun will do is anger your enemy.”

“I shoot with hollow-point bullets,” she challenged.

Her confidence in her weapon of choice only fueled his fear. “To kill a shifter, their heart or head must be completely severed from their body. If not, we will shift and regenerate in the process. Even when unconscious, even when we are shredded, exposed or limbless, our beasts will rise and suck the very life that surrounds us to survive.”

She frowned, seeming more confused than concerned. Would he ever understand this woman?

“But Joshua’s wolf remained dormant,” she questioned. “And you said it was because his environment was constantly changing . . . because he felt threatened.”

“Yes, that’s true.” He gentled his voice but pressed his point. “But only until an initial shift occurs, and when that happens our wolves are not hindered by anything, and are often difficult to control. You must change your strategy of protection.”

She nodded without comment.

Not entirely confident that he had convinced her, he added for insurance, “The only person your gun will harm is you, or others of our kind who cannot shift to heal.” He gave a bitter laugh. “And that will only serve the Guardians’ ultimate goal—”

“Okay,” she interrupted. “I get it. It will be an adjustment for me, but I will try.”

It was as much of a concession as he was going to get, he realized. “I want you to wear the Serpent, even while in our home.”

Her eyes scanned his features, too shrewd for his comfort. “You don’t trust these leaders who are coming.”

“I trust their hatred of the Guardians more than I trust them, especially Isabeau.”

“Tell me about her.”

He hesitated only briefly, having faith in his wife not to cower from the truth, no matter how horrific it may be. It was deceit that Sophie never handled well. “Isabeau’s territory encompasses much of Minnesota. Her family served as slaves in the household of Rhun, one of the more . . .
disturbed
Guardians. She escaped, but her parents and siblings didn’t survive.”

“You’ve experienced things I’ll never understand.” She held up her hand in a helpless gesture and then let it fall back to her lap. “I can’t begin to fathom that kind of brutality.”

“You bear scars that prove otherwise,” he said, unable to keep the edge of anger from his voice. “You have tasted the scorn of our race.”

“Please,”
she scoffed. “What Siân did to me was trivial compared to some of the stories the villagers shared with me last night, and now this about Isabeau’s family. I finally understand why your people resent my presence. They wanted their leader to be with another shifter. They wanted a union their enemies would fear.”

“
Our
people have begun to acknowledge your rightful place in my life.” To press his point, he added, “If they are sharing their stories, you have begun to earn their respect. Not an easy accomplishment.”

“I’m sure Joshua’s little demonstration helped.”

“Of course.” The hound, he admitted silently, didn’t hurt either. Noting its absence, he scanned the room. “Where’s Tucker?”

She gave a rueful smile. “With Enid and my mother in the kitchen, judging their offerings, I’m sure.”

“I will ask that you retrieve him before our guests arrive, and keep him with you upstairs at all times.”

“You don’t want me with you during the gathering?”

“I’d prefer that the leaders didn’t know my family,” he said cautiously, still unsure how far to push her current cooperative attitude. “You are a vulnerability I don’t want exposed.”

She regarded him with an expression he knew not to like. “You fear I’m too weak.”

“You misunderstand me.” He leaned forward and lifted her chin, waiting for her soft brown eyes to meet his. “It is my own weakness I must not expose. If any of the leaders saw me with you, they would know.”

She frowned. “Know what?”

“How I feel,” he said candidly. “That I would do anything to keep you safe . . . give up anything for you. The vulnerability is mine, Sophie, not yours.”

Her posture relaxed, melted into the chair as if her bones had turned to liquid. She took his hand from her face and enclosed it in both of hers, her expression open and unguarded, causing his throat to tighten even before she whispered, “I love you, Dylan.”

He wavered on his feet. Eavesdropping on her earlier confession to Francine had not compared to hearing it directly, given freely and without hesitation. He dropped to his knees in front of her, wedging his body between her thighs until the chair pressed against his stomach. He let his head fall into her lap and inhaled a ragged breath.

He had never been one to openly profess his feelings, more suited to action than love poems or pretty sonnets. He dropped a kiss inside her thigh, then another. Annoyed by the cloth that covered her skin, he reached up and snagged the elastic material from around her waist, making sure to include her undergarments, and tugged downward.

Her hand tightened on his shoulder and pushed. “What are you doing?”

“Showing you how much I love you in return,” he informed her, untangling the garments away from her ankles with determined purpose. Next, he tackled the running shirt that holstered her gun, frowning when the garment proved too snug to yank off. “Remove this,” he ordered.

She sent a nervous glance toward the door. “What if someone comes in here?”

“Everyone in Rhuddin Hall knows not to disturb us in our bedroom when the door is closed, even your mother.”

“Let me take a shower first,” she pleaded, though he sensed submission in her voice.

“No.”

Watching him through a heavy-lidded gaze, Sophie leaned forward and rolled the shirt over her head, and then gingerly placed the wrapped gun on the floor next to the chair. Another garment followed—a sports bra, he believed it was called. Finally, she sat before him blessedly naked.

He devoured the sight of her. The lingering scent of her earlier run only fueled his hunger. He leaned forward and nuzzled the exposed skin of her belly, then licked a trail from her navel to the soft curls above her sex; her stomach muscles contracted against his tongue.

Still kneeling, Dylan ripped open his jeans just enough to free his shaft, now painfully engorged. His skin crawled with heat, her pleasure and soft gasps the sweetest of tortures. Leaning back on his haunches, he snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her closer to his face, until her bottom rested on the edge of the chair and he had full access to her most private core.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as he pulled her legs over his shoulders. He had a fleeting vision of her hands clutching the arms of the chair for support before he closed his eyes, greedy with anticipation.

She tasted like home and fulfillment. He nuzzled her flesh until he found the nub of her sex, circling his tongue in fast strokes until she cried out his name in husky abandon, her legs shaking against his shoulders as each pulse of pleasure claimed her body.

He almost spilled his seed on the cushions of the chair.

Before she had time to recover, he flipped her over with a growl. He entered her from behind, biting back a harsh shout as her exquisite heat wrapped around him. It was a primal mating, more animal than human. He heard the sounds coming from his mouth, yet had no control to stop them.

He came in a blind fury of pounding need.

Still panting, he collapsed on top of her, only then aware that Sophie had joined him with a second release by the pulses that continued to lick at his shaft. “Did I hurt you?”

“No!” A soft laugh shook her shoulders. “Would you plevase stop asking me that? You were incredible.”

“I lost control,” he admitted, easing some of his weight off her back.

She eyed him over her shoulder, a devious smile turning her lips. “I’m sure you’ll do much better next time.”

“Is that a challenge, wife?” He gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

 * * * 

A
N HOUR LATER, AFTER THEY HAD BOTH SHOWERED
, Dylan leaned against the headboard and watched Sophie tug a sweater over her head, savoring this last moment with her before returning to his duties. She paced the room, full of restless energy despite the sensual workout he had just given her.

He patted the empty spot beside him. “Come here.”

“No.”

“If you can still argue with me, woman, then I’ve not tired you enough.” Another pat. “Come here.”

She stopped her pacing only to glare. “Stop trying to distract me.”

He sighed, resigned, and more than a tad disappointed. “You’re not going to give up on this, are you?”

“If you don’t want me by your side during the gathering, I understand. Just let me do something else less visible.” She waved her hand around the bedroom. “Give me something—
anything
—useful to do.”

“I consider the past hour very useful to my mental well-being.”

“Don’t do that,” she said softly. “I want to help. Sitting here and doing nothing will drive me insane.”

He lowered his voice to a sensual whisper. “You were
not
doing nothing, I assure you.”

“You’re patronizing me.”

“I’m not.” Sobering to her anger, he ran his hands over his face. “I need you to be safe, Sophie. That’s all. I will not be able to concentrate if I’m worried about you or your whereabouts.”

Unfortunately, her restless attitude came as no surprise; he remembered all too well her dislike of confined spaces, and her response. Experience had taught him not to ignore her request. Therefore, he tried to think of a responsibility that would keep her relatively safe and guarded but with a purpose she would respect. “We have eight children being kept in a secluded safe house in the village. Their parents are with them. Elen is there as well, and several guards have been assigned to the area around the building. Would you be willing to join them?” At her narrowed expression, he added, “As another protector.”

A worried frown creased her forehead. “How will their parents feel about me being there?”

“Allowing my family to join theirs would be considered a great honor, a further promise to keep them safe.”