The White Wolf's Wrath, page 13
His arms were the greatest of delicacies, so warm and strong. I savored the moment as if it were my last meal as I leaned in to return the gesture. When my hands met with the breadth of his shoulders, I had to bite my lip for fear of biting him. The urge to sink my teeth into him and claim him was akin to needing oxygen.
I inhaled deeply, not even caring to hide my ecstasy at his offering, and I was rewarded with the woodsy scent that clung to him, the scent of fresh mountain air. And he was warm, so comfortably warm, it made goose bumps dance across my skin, though I hadn’t realized I was cold.
Afraid I would overstay my welcome, I forced myself to relinquish my hold on him enough that he could end the hug if he desired to. To my delight, he didn’t. Instead, he squeezed tighter, inhaling my scent as deeply as I had his before placing a hand on the back of my head and kissing its crown.
Then I truly melted.
My insides turned to liquid as joy erupted in my belly. A feeling I couldn’t quite identify simmered beneath the joy, something archaic and wild. Tears sprang into my eyes, and I forbid them from fully forming, but they weren’t all sad, and that was the problem. They were hopeful tears, and I banished the hope from existence.
There could be no dreaming of tomorrow, I told myself, only the enjoyment of now.
I released a breath I didn’t know I needed to, and a weight lifted off my shoulders. All the heaviness I’d been carrying was whisked away in one exhale.
Then he let go. With another squeeze of my shoulders, he pushed back on them until he could look at me once again.
“Thank you,” I whispered, feeling both embarrassed and vulnerable—a feeling I didn’t appreciate, not one bit.
“Anytime,” he said back as he tugged on my hair gently before letting go.
I asked the question that continued to plague me. “Why?” What did it matter to him if I was happy or sad?
“One of life’s great mysteries, I suppose,” he said teasingly.
He didn’t answer my question, but the evasion was clear enough. Either he didn’t have an answer or he wasn’t ready to divulge it at the moment, so I let it drop with a roll of my eyes.
Part of me was disappointed that it wasn’t more than a hug, but I supposed it may have taken some of the meaning out of it had it gone further. I still felt guilty for wanting it, too, knowing Oisin was maybe even in the house now, since Whalen apparently knew all about him.
Perhaps that was why he was respecting my space now. I wondered why, when last night he hadn’t. He didn’t comment on it, though, only looked around, searching for something.
“You wouldn’t have a knapsack or something, would you?” he asked at last.
I did, in fact. Being outdoorsy, my father indulged me with different gear for when we went on adventures ourselves, sometimes fishing or hunting but most often foraging. I headed to the trunk at the foot of my bed, opened it, and held up the bag.
The chest was sturdy and olive green, made of heavy material designed to weather the elements. It was perfect for what was to come next.
“Aye, now what have you to put in it? Do you have trousers and shoes instead of…?” he said, waving at my body to indicate the nightgown I wore.
My cheeks heated then in earnest. I’d all but forgotten the thing, though I didn't know how. Thinking about the embrace again, I realized chances were that he hadn’t kissed me because of the implications it would entail with me being barely dressed. A steady throb beat beneath the sheer fabric, and his flaring nostrils told me I hadn’t a chance in hell at hiding my feelings. I was seconds away from throwing myself at him when he spoke again.
“Do you?”
“Do I?” I asked, perplexed. I’d lost my mind, it seemed, at the idea of being nearly naked in a bedroom with him.
He didn’t hide the grin that split his face. It was a confident one and oh so sexy.
“Have anything else to wear?”
“Oh!” I all but exclaimed, busying myself digging for my clothes to hide the crimson overtaking my face.
Damn my Irish skin.
I quickly pulled out the different outerwear I owned, focusing on the task to bring myself back to normal. I grabbed the heavier items and threw them on the bed, where he inspected them and sorted them. When I finished, he had two neat piles of folded clothes, and he looked impressed.
“You’ve done more than a few things with your father, then?”
I thought back to the busy man I’d known. I’d always thought him too preoccupied to spend much time with me, and I supposed he was. But a portion of the time was spent in teaching me all he knew. In some ways, his lecturing me was his way of bonding with me.
“It seems so,” I said at last, and he nodded.
“This is fine,” he said, indicating one pile. “Feel free to comb through it. Do you have boots somewhere?”
“Check beneath the bed,” I said, moving to look through his choices.
All the woolen socks were in the pile to take, but only two pairs of pants and three heavy sweaters were in there with them. I grabbed a few of the lighter things and added them.
When he returned, boots in hand, he saw my choices and inspected them.
“They’ll do, but you don’t want your pack to be too heavy,” he said.
“The sweaters aren’t fitted to my body. I usually wear the shirts and stockings beneath both, so it holds my body heat better.”
“Right, then,” he said, and the smirk made me feel proud, as if he was impressed with my preparedness. A silly thing, but I still glowed under his approval.
“Then toiletries and whatnot. If you’re keen on bathing, I would take one before we leave, as you’re not going to find one on the road. Pack the bag as light as you can and wear the boots—tomorrow, that is. And eat. Eat ’til you're bursting at the seams. Evelyn is packing as much as she can without it being too much to carry, but there's still no saying how easily we’ll be able to resupply in the dead of winter.”
I nodded, unsure of what to say to keep my nerves under wraps. It hadn’t been too daunting at first, but now the reality was sinking in.
“I'll be giving out my final orders to the men. We leave at first light tomorrow.”
“Okay, thank you.” I nearly choked on the words, the anxiety hitting me like a ton of stones and making my throat dry. Tension filled the air as seconds ticked by before he spoke again.
“Oisin is downstairs if you want to see him before we leave as well,” he spoke at last, his eyes boring into mine. As if in breaking contact, he'd lose whatever he was holding on to.
“Oh, thanks.” I wanted to say more, but what, I had no idea. Maybe that I could hardly remember who Oisin was when I looked at Whalen. Or that no one made my blood heat with a look like Whalen could. How could I face Oisin now that I knew these things?
“I'll leave you to it, then,” he declared and gently closed the door behind him before I could respond, which was all for the better because my brain had left with him.
Oisin. His name beat through me for different reasons than it used to. Before it had been the steady beat of my heart, keeping me moving forward. I didn't know when it began to fill me with dread, but it did all the same.
Pushing that reality to the back of my mind, I busied myself with putting my clothes away. Deciding to bathe now, and perhaps again later, I drew the water next. I'd no sooner sunk into the water when I realized it didn't hold the key to my problems within it. I tried to focus on envisioning the water siphoning out my torment, but it increasingly mimicked a weight trying to drown me.
I realized I’d chosen to bathe to avoid the meeting with Oisin. But I didn't see any way to prepare for it. Worrying about the feelings I may have toward him and the feelings I'd developed toward Whalen did no good. I had to face it.
While I dressed slowly, a calm washed over me. Not much to do about it, so I may as well accept it. If my fate was to marry Oisin and not be in love with him, then that was the duty I owed my people, and I would do it to the best of my ability. But not before preventing further harm from befalling our clan.
So, without further ado, I decided to go for it and made my way downstairs. It wasn’t long before voices drifted up from the kitchen, Evelyn’s and Oisin’s and a few I didn't recognize.
They heard me before I entered, and conversation politely died out as I walked in. It was almost worse that way.
“Emer” was all Oisin said, and I was glad to see his pallor improved.
“Oisin. Feeling better, I hope?” I asked, feeling more awkward than I thought possible.
“Yes, thank you.”
“Well, now, boys, let's make haste. I need help loading the saddlebags,” Evelyn said to Michael and Donal, whose voices I now realized were the ones I hadn’t recognized.
“Miss,” the pair said in unison, nodding at me.
I watched them leave, puzzling over them. I'd need to learn more about the men surrounding Oisin. Though could I even call them men when they were something else entirely?
Was Michael still a man? Or was that part of why it was hard for me to recognize him that time in the barn? If he wasn't, I could only hope it was a choice he’d made and not had forced upon him somehow.
That was when I looked at Oisin, uncertainty coiling in my belly. He was no longer an ordinary man but harsher and cooler. Joseph’s habits aside, the Abhartach were hunters, and I was outmatched.
“How are you?” he asked simply, a tentative thing.
I thought of the tumult of emotions roaring inside me. Of the mess that had befallen my home and my family. But I buried all those things.
“I'm fine, thank you. How are you?” I asked, hedging, trying to determine whether he was content with his lot in life.
He smiled, sensing the words I didn't say.
“I'm all right, Emer, really, but how are you?” he asked again, taking a step closer.
His dark eyes and hair were the same hues I’d known forever, as were the thin bridge of his nose and fair skin. But the delicateness I had always associated him with had been replaced with something sharper, something harder. I didn't balk when he stepped closer, and when he reached out to brush the corner of my new bangs, a little of the wall I had erected between us crumbled.
This was Oisin, my betrothed. A friend I had known and played with. And perhaps we were both changed, but we were still undoubtedly the same.
That realization had me reeling and centered me at the same time. And so I answered him honestly.
“Some days are better than others, but I'm getting through.”
And I was. It wasn't a straight line but a jagged one full of boulders and dead ends. I thought of all Oisin had lost, too, and tried to express my sorrow with my eyes.
“I’m good, Emer, truly. I only worry for you,” he said as the hand still idly toying with my bangs went to cup my cheek.
“Don't, please. I'll be fine,” I said, because I would. I had to be—no other way but to play the hand I’d been dealt.
He smiled then, finally believing my words.
“Your hair looks good,” he said at last, dropping his hand.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about it. I was a bit bereft at the loss of his touch, yet I felt as if I shouldn’t be. But he was to be my husband, or at least that was what my parents had wished. Perhaps it was only the loss of what had been that had sunk its claws in me, the future I had pictured so many times before now irrevocably changed.
“Thank you,” I said, looking at the floor before I thought of something. “Wait, did you know?”
“Know about what? Your heritage? I did. It was a big reason my parents wanted a union between us,” he said.
The silence was palpable, stretching between us at his words. Neither of us was quite sure how to broach the subject.
“I hold you to no promises, Emer. But if you so choose, I’m more than happy to oblige,” he said, and the smirk on his face was equal parts earnest and amused.
“Don’t you think our people would want it that way?”
He ran a hand through his hair, his slender fingers easily combing through the soft locks. He was always graceful, but I noted a difference in his movements. He moved like silk, like water now, so smooth it was as if he hardly moved at all.
“Our people might be opposed to a ruler such as me now,” he said, looking at me.
“Do you know how anyone fares?”
“Most of the survivors are at my home. My parents had gone to great lengths to defend it before the battle, and it seems it wasn't in vain.”
“How did you end up in my barn, then?”
“Ah, naturally, my father and I were among the warriors. When we broke so easily, we charged forward to reform, and my father didn't make it. I lasted a while longer, but when I was wounded, it was closest to your lands, and Joseph wanted me out of immediate danger more than anything. He has been the go-between since.” He paused a moment. “My mother sends well wishes,” he said at last.
“Your mother? She’s all right?” A stab ricocheted through my belly, but I ignored it. My loss shouldn't affect my happiness for him.
“She is more than all right. Having so many to tend to gives her a purpose again. Now she can stop fussing over me for a while. I was heartbroken to hear of your losses, Emer,” he said, and the pain on his face had me hiding mine before I lost my composure.
“And I’m sorry to hear of yours as well. But I am glad to hear your mother fares well. What of the girls?”
It was simpler to call my childhood friends that, as we usually did. Though not close, we all were undeniably enmeshed.
“Making my mother stay quite busy. Cara and Fallon lost their father, but they and their mother are as you would expect.”
A blithering mess, no doubt. Not to discount their loss, but I could hardly imagine them any less than hysterical without him.
“Erin and her family are fine,” he finished. The unsaid words were that of course they were. If her father fought, he would have done it valiantly without a touch of blood on him to boot.
I nodded, gladness and sadness mingling in an uncomfortable soup of feelings I didn't want to examine further. My clan, the people I cared for—at least there was still someone to fight for.
The intensity in his eyes was a flick of a switch, homing in on the part of him that was so different now. Then there was the feeling again inside, the primal part of me saying that I was the prey. It shouldn’t thrill me the way it did, but that was probably because I was hardly a hapless victim.
He noticed the steel in my spine the minute it snapped into place. The shiver of fear was replaced by excitement for controversy. The smile on his face was as serene as ever even as he held my gaze, meeting the challenge.
“Not everyone has the same reaction as you, and the ones who do will prove troublesome. People don’t want a ruler they fear. They want one they trust. And I’m no longer someone they trust. I’d prefer to change that, to prove myself to them again, and show that I’m still the same man I was.”
“But you’re no longer a man,” I finished for him.
“Precisely,” he said with a sad smile.
“Why did you do it? You did decide, right?”
“I did, but it’s a long and winding story. One best saved for your return.”
A terrible answer, but I said, “Okay,” nonetheless.
“Deciding on our betrothal can wait too. Don’t hold your heart for me, but if it still calls for me when this is said and done, I will honor your choice. Happily,” he added, grabbing and kissing my hand.
He continued to hold it after his declaration while I pondered his words. Oisin was a stranger, and yet not, but his words meant a lot to me.
“But what do you want?” I asked, torn.
He considered his response, and I was glad for it. I didn’t want him to tell me what he thought I wanted to hear; I wanted the truth.
“Also a story for another day, Emer, one I’m glad to share with you, but not now. However, I don’t say the words lightly when I say I would be honored to have you be a part of my life,” he said, and it was the best yet worst answer he could give.
But one I could be content with, at least for now.
“All right, then,” I said, not knowing what else to say.
“Take care of yourself, please. Walsh and Joseph will protect you, I swear it. But all the same, watch out for yourself.”
“I will,” I promised. “You do the same.”
“I will,” he echoed before kissing my cheek.
His touch was featherlight but firm where he was still holding my hand as he leaned down. Goose bumps raced over my skin at the gesture—a feeling I wasn’t anticipating.
He seemed amused again when he leaned back, and I groaned internally. Everyone knowing my thoughts and feelings without my say-so was getting old.
“I’ll see you soon,” he said, heading toward the door.
“Soon,” I promised as he left.
When the door shut behind him, I immediately raced to the window to watch his retreat. My mind was fuzzy. Why in the world was I so torn? These men were such a pain. Probably I was sad and lonely, and their kindness was a balm to me.
There was a chance that they were only being nice to me, anyway. Sure, Whalen had kissed me, but that didn’t seem to be a rarity, I thought, remembering the women in his bedroom. One could argue that Whalen wasn’t even being nice to me but rather that he had ulterior motives.
What if Oisin did too? I was an important figure in our clan, set to be the leader. Perhaps they were both jockeying for my hand—Whalen because he had no claim and Oisin because his claim had been undermined.
There was too much to consider, and it made my head hurt. Besides, I had enough on my plate at the moment without considering the implications of what getting involved with either of them would mean.
Turning my attention away from Oisin’s retreating figure, I focused instead on Evelyn, who was instructing the men on what to pack into the saddlebags. Then I noticed how large they were. Beyond large, really. Each was the size of Evelyn’s torso, and from the looks of it, they were putting the kitchen sink in them.
