The Wild (The Lycans 6)

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter as I pictured my sister. She was grinning at me from the front door, her finger to her mouth as she silently told me she wouldn’t tell our mother that I was getting my new dress all dirty.

The reel changed in my mind. I was now a grown woman sitting around the table with my family. It was after my sister had passed. The sadness was a heavy weight surrounding us.

The scene flickered once more, years later.

I sat by the lake, my feet in the water. I felt the strength and power of the waves move through me. I could hear my mother and father in the meadow beside me, laughing, my father telling my mother how beautiful she was.

And then the last image that slammed into my head was the first time I met Odhran, when we were ripped away from each other.

“Larkin.”

It was Odhran’s voice now, surrounding me, a panicked tone that had me rushing back to the present, a cold sweat covering me. I turned my head and looked at him. We were in the bedroom. In bed. Together and safe.

His brows were pulled low, his eyes taking on a wild cast. He was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling hard and fast.

“Tha mo ghion ort.” He sounded so anguished as he pulled me into his arms. “I love ye with all my heart.”

I wrapped my arms around his chest and screamed inside. I was frustrated and scared and hated this, not only for me but for Odhran too.

“I knew they were gone years ago. I knew this and had accepted it long ago. But to face that reality, to go back to my home, it tore open wounds that had been healed and scarred over.”

He started murmuring in Gaelic and then switched to English. “I’m sorry I took ye there. I dinna know. I dinna know.”

I was shaking my head, stopping him from going further.

I pulled back and looked into his face. He lifted his hand and ran his thumbs over my cheeks, wiping away the tears. “I needed to see that stuff, needed to see my childhood home. I needed that closure. Thank you for taking me.”

And then he pulled me into his embrace, leaned back on the bed so I was now draped over his big body, and held me the rest of the night.

Chapter

Twenty

Larkin

When you’re happy, time moves by quickly, and I couldn’t remember the last time I had been this happy. No, that wasn’t true. I remembered what this felt like, but I hadn’t felt this way for a very long time. Years. Decades since I’d spent time with my family, told stories around the hearth, and explored the wildlife that surrounded our cottage.

But the kind of pleasure I found with Odhran wasn’t just on the physical level. It was also about the quiet solitude we found as we made dinner together, or sat in front of the fire and read or just talked.

The days blurred together, and I found that weeks passed before I even realized time had gone by so quickly. And with each passing moment, I became more and more comfortable with my surroundings and the situation.

We got to know each other’s likes and dislikes, learned about the other’s idiosyncrasies, what we feared and what we dreamed about.

We took walks on the property, long hours just moving through the Highlands and taking in the trees and animals, smelling the scents and feeling… free. I should’ve felt a little bit embarrassed at the fact that whenever we took those walks, I would stop constantly, just closing my eyes and tilting my head back, inhaling the fresh air and feeling the sun on my face.

But every time I looked at Odhran—feeling a little sheepish—there was always a soft smile on his face and this loving look in his eyes. I knew without him having to tell me that he took great pleasure in seeing these reactions in me.

My pleasure was his.

And then he’d cup my cheek and say in that gruff Scottish brogue of his, “Gods, ye’re the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

I blushed every time I thought about it.

Every night we bathed together, Odhran washing my hair with gentle touches, soothing fingers. He lathered my body with soaps and oils until I was pliant and soft against him, and those relaxing touches would always turn into something more.

He’d bring me to orgasm in the bathtub, my back against his chest, me lying between his thighs, his hand between my legs as he stroked me to climax.

His cock would always be a hard, thick rod pressing to my lower back, and I wouldn’t have to do anything but come for him, moan out his name and then he’d orgasm without even a touch, the hot feeling of his semen coating my skin and getting me off again.