Compromising Positions (16 page)

“I should go.” Kirstin tried to disengage herself from him, but he held her fast in the circle of his arms. To be fair, she didn’t try too hard to get away. She spent too little time in the man’s arms, and could have spent an eternity there. Since that first morning at the spring when she had fallen into his arms like some lovesick teen and confessed her affection for him, she had found herself taking every opportunity she could to be with him.

“I do’na want ye t’go, lass,” he murmured, hands lost in the thick mass of her hair. “I’m n’afraid of ye. Stay wit’ me.”

She wanted to, more than anything, but there was more than just his betrothal to an English bride standing in their way.

Every time she thought of Lady Cecilia Witcombe, the Earl of Witcombe’s only daughter, on her way to marry the laird of clan MacFalon, it made her physically ill. Not that it mattered, Kirstin knew. The king would never approve a marriage between a man and a wulver woman, even if the king himself had once bedded one. There was a big difference between bedding a wulver and marrying one, Raife had said, and he was right.

She and Donal had talked in circles about it, and they kept coming around to the same point.

“Ye know I can’na stay.” Kirstin lifted her face to look at him, at those stormy eyes, his brow knitted with worry. “Y’er t’marry another.”

“Do’na remin’me.” He groaned, his expression pained, as if her words had stabbed him in the gut.

Because King Henry had denied the dispensation Donal had requested.

Donal sent another, but Kirstin didn’t hold much hope that it would be granted after the first had been turned down. They had to accept what was, as Raife always said.

She was a wulver. He was a man. A man set to marry another woman, upon order of the English king.

“She’ll arrive soon,” Kirstin reminded him, reminded herself. “In another day, mayhaps two.”

Donal nodded miserably. They both knew it was true, even if they didn’t want to think about it.

“Ye lead yer clan, Donal,” Kirstin reminded him of this, too. “Ye mus’ do what’s right fer the greatest good.”

“Ye’re m’greatest good, lass.” He cupped her face in his hands, searching her eyes. “Ye’re m’vera heart.”

His words broke her. How could she do this? How could she feel this way, knowing she couldn’t be with him, and still stand? She didn’t know.

“I can’na stay wit’ ye,” she whispered, her lower lip trembling, in spite of her self-admonition to stay strong. “I can’na stay.”

“Then I’ll come wit ye.”

And there it was again. They went around and around, in circles. It was impossible. He couldn’t live in the wulver den with her, and she couldn’t live in the MacFalon castle with him.

“Yer family’s ’ere,” she urged. “Yer obligation’s ’ere. Yer wife...”

They both winced at the word “wife.” Kirstin didn’t like to think about another woman coming anywhere near this man. Even in her human form, Kirstin’s instincts turned animal at the thought.

“But me
mate
is ’
ere.”
He kissed her cheek, the tear that slipped down it caught on his lips. “I want ye, Kirstin. I
claim
ye. D’y’hear me? Yer
mine.
Ye’ll
always
be mine.”

“I wish t’were true,” she whispered as he kissed her other cheek, another tear.

“’Tis true! We can make a life together, lass.”

“How?” she pleaded, wishing she could see a way around it. “If ye marry me, King Henry’ll come down on all our heads. ’T’will be the end of t’wolf pact and the end of the possibility of peace in t’borderlands. I can’na be responsible fer that.”

“Let me worry ’bout that,” he insisted.

“And then what?” she cried. “Ye live wit’ a woman ye hafta lock up once a month because she changes into a wolf?”

“’T’wouldn’t be the firs’ time a man had to deal with a she-devil once a month,” he replied with a grin.

“Donal!” Kirstin laughed. She couldn’t help it. He always made her laugh, took her outside herself. It was the first thing that had attracted her to him. That and those big, dancing, mischievous, blue-grey eyes.

“But m’love...” She turned her wet eyes up to him, hating herself for saying it out loud, but it was true, and it was the one thing she knew they couldn’t change. “I told ye. There’d be n’children. I can’na give ye heirs. We could’na mate while I was... while...”

She flushed, feeling the heat in her face, in her limbs, at the thought of mating with this man, as woman or wulver. The look in his eyes told her he was thinking about it, too. Lately it was all she ever thought about. Her body was so close to estrus, she was aroused almost constantly.

“Nothin’ would keep me from ye, lass.” That dark, determined look had come into his eyes. The man could be stubborn. “Nothin’.”

“Och, Donal.” Kirstin sighed, shaking her dark head. “Ye can’na come wit me, and I can’na stay. ’Tis impossible.”

“’T’isn’t impossible,” he insisted.

“When I change, then ye’ll see.” She lowered her head, not wanting to look at him, to see the expression on his face. She hated herself, hated her very nature. If she could have swallowed some magic potion in that moment that would have given her the ability not to change into a wolf, she would have done it in an instant. “Ye do’na really want me, Donal. Ye will’na, once ye see...”

“I
do
want ye.” His grip tightened, rocking her in his arms. “I’ll always want ye, whether ye’re a woman or a wolf or a... mouse!”

That made her laugh through her tears, but it didn’t erase the reality of what was.

The fact remained, Kirstin couldn’t be this man’s wife, no matter how much they both might want it. And she was sure that Lady Cecilia Witcombe was a beautiful woman who would make Donal the perfect wife. And most importantly, she wouldn’t turn into a beast once a month on a whim. But if the woman had been in front of her, Kirstin would have torn her throat out without a second thought.

That made her an animal.

In fact, she was an animal.

And that was the problem.

“Nuh!” Kirstin choked, voice muffled against his chest, but she hardly had any breath left, and there were no more words, no more arguments to be made. She felt it happening, her strength leaving her limbs.

“Aye, lass,” Donal insisted, his mouth finding hers, sparking a fire in her that was undeniable and unquenchable. They went to the floor, slowly sinking together, and Kirstin knew there was no stopping it. Donal would see for himself, and it would be soon. Far too soon.

“Open up!” Gregor pounded on the door from the outside.

Kirstin barely heard him. Donal’s mouth crushed hers and she welcomed the weight of him as they tore at each other’s clothes. He was shirtless, and then so was she, her plaid slipping easily off her body, leaving her naked beneath him, more than ready.

The pounding came again.

“G’way, boy!” Donal growled, nuzzling the soft hollow of Kirstin’s throat before moving down to her breasts, making her moan when he grabbed handfuls of her hair, pulling her head back so he could get better access.

She wanted him, but she couldn’t have him.

Her body burned for him, but it was impossible.

She longed to speak his name, but all that would come out of her throat was a plaintive, keening wail.

“Kirstin, m’love,” Donal whispered, and she felt him, eager to enter her, almost as hungry as she was.

She howled when he slid inside her, nails digging into his back as he rutted deep and hard, speaking words into her ear that turned her blood to fire. He pounded into her with such force she could barely breathe, but she didn’t care. There were no bodily functions more important than this one in the moment, nothing more compelling than the ache between her thighs.

“Och, Kirstin, yer
mine
,” he said throatily, slamming into her again and again. She whimpered her agreement as he grabbed her leg, flipping it over in front of him, twisting her hips to the side, her torso still facing front. She gasped at the new position, how big he felt inside her like this.

“Ahhhh yer cunny is so tight!” he grunted, pumping faster, hips moving at lightning speed. Kirstin felt it happening. Her climax was rising as fast as the moon. Through the window, she saw the sun had sunk below the horizon, and the pale face of the moon was coming up in the sky.

She met his eyes in the dimness, the light from the window fading, no lamp lit. She wondered what he could see, but she didn’t have to ask. She saw it in his eyes, the dawning realization, the slow shift from desire to horror. She was changing. There was nothing she could do to stop it.

Kirstin tried to run, but Donal held her fast in his hands, grabbing her hips as she rolled to her belly. He was on top of her, so close, rutting from behind, unwilling to stop. And so was she. Her body shuddered with both pleasure and her change as her sex spasmed around his length. Donal gave a low roar of surprise as her muscles milked his seed, drawing it up from his sack in thick, pulsing waves.

She trembled and howled, the sound filling the room, so loud it felt as if it could shake the whole castle. The steady pounding on the door outside went on and on. It sounded as if they were taking a battering ram to the door out there.

Donal collapsed on her, hand moving in her hair, and then, in fur. Her ears pricked, her hearing keener now, her vision, too. She saw everything her human eyes could not, the shadows fading, the edges of things growing sharp. She heard the sound of Gregor panting outside the door as they struggled to ram it open. She felt the heat of Donal’s breath on her fur, the weight of the man who had previously been crushing her, now like nothing.

The pounding had stopped but now the whole castle seemed to shake with the blows as Gregor applied something to the door again and again.

“Kirstin,” Donal whispered, his hands cupping her face, finding fur and jowls and soft, twitching ears.

She whined, rolling to her side, their eyes locked. Donal pet her gently, stroking her muzzle, her neck, his expression pained. She’d tried to tell him, but he hadn’t believed her, not really. Who would believe it, unless they’d seen it with their very own eyes? He’d seen her as a wolf only once before—and never like this. He’d never actually watched her change.

Kirstin put a dark, grey paw up on the man’s chest, seeing her own limbs gone, replaced with that of a wolf. No more hands to grasp with. It was as it ever was, as it had always been. There was nothing she could do to stop or change it, and she knew he would finally understand this now. He would turn away from her in horror and disgust, and she wouldn’t blame him.

She braced herself for it. Her emotions were even more powerful now, as a wolf. Everything intensified. Even her love for him. Her desire, too. It broke her and she howled again, a sound full of pain and longing. The pounding against the door stopped for a moment. So did everything else. Donal stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time.

“Shhh,” he urged, his fingers lost in her fur, trailing over her ribs. “Yer safe wit’ me.”

Safe?
Kirstin showed him a canine version of a smile, dark lips drawn back from her teeth. He seemed to understand, a smile reaching both his lips and his eyes as he bent his dark head to touch hers.

“Och, yer so beautiful,” he whispered. “Yer t’most beautiful creature I’ve e’er seen.”

A great cracking sound shattered the moment, and Gregor spilled into the room, dragging a set of chains behind him.

“He’s wit’ t’wolf!” Gregor called over his shoulder.

“Do’na touch ’er!” Donal roared, protecting Kirstin’s body with his own as Gregor grabbed the wolf by the scruff of its neck.

The man’s hand sank into her flesh and Kirstin howled and snapped at him.

“Let ’er go!” Gregor insisted, pulling the chains behind him.

Kirstin heard the sound of them and winced. She couldn’t bear it. Even the thought of being locked up now made her growl and buck. When she was human, she would have gone docilely, but now that she was wolf, there would be none of that. Her freedom was paramount.

“Kirstin, listen t’me,” Donal insisted, trying to control her scrambling limbs and snapping jaws. “We’ll nuh hurt ye!”

But she knew better. Every fiber in her being knew she had to escape the man with the chains and the locks, even if another part of her understood Donal’s pleas. Donal loved her—she felt it emanating from him in waves. There was no escaping the feeling, no misinterpreting it. That was the one thing about turning wolf—there was no more room for error when it came to things like that. The world became far more black and white, easy to negotiate.

For weeks, Kirstin had waffled, torn, not knowing what to do. For weeks, she had cursed herself for loving this man, wishing things could be different. Now, as she looked into his beautiful blue-grey eyes, things became suddenly, incredibly clear.

“Hold ’er so I can get this collar on!” Gregor insisted, dragging the chains close. “We’ve gotta cage t’bitch!”

Donal hit the man. It happened fast. One moment, Donal’s arms were around her, his hands in her fur, and the next, he’d stood and brought his fist hard across the man’s face. Gregor howled and fought back, and the men tussled, wrestling each other to the floor.