Wolf Moon Rising (Beaux Rêve Coven 3)

His shoulders slumped. If she didn’t return, he’d search for her the rest of his life, because deep inside he recognized what she was. His mate.

Chapter Two

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Sigurd paced for an hour, growing surlier by the minute. Thinking Aoife might have used a cloaking spell to slip past him unseen, he shifted then dropped his nose to the ground, but he located no hint of her scent escaping the clearing.

He shifted back, his anger heating his blood, which caused his cock to stir. Then his thoughts turned to his memories of the night the witches had danced, and the image burned in his mind of her lovely, slender nude figure.

He grew hard, remembering her pale, luminescent skin and small round breasts with their pale pink areolas, the tips beading as he’d given them a long, hungry look. Her mound had been covered in a light dusting of silvery-blond hair, the same color as the long hair that flowed down her back. And when she’d turned away, he hadn’t been able to suppress a growl at the sight of her nicely rounded ass.

She was a beautiful woman. As pretty as any fairytale princess, he was sure. But she hadn’t a clue how her beauty affected a man.

Admittedly, that was part of her allure. Accustomed to worldly women, he didn’t know how to deal with her innocence.

When she committed some transgression, something deserving his scolding for her own safety, his harsh words fa

ded the second she lifted her pretty face and locked her unearthly blue-green gaze with his.

A trick. The sudden realization that she’d suckered him hit like a blow. The same way she fooled him into gentling his words had fooled him into trailing her at a distance, letting her leave her bedroom to follow out of curiosity, rather than putting a stop to her wandering.

Anger flashed again.

No, a sudden gleam of light appeared, coming from the tree. He turned slowly, his scowl deepening as he watched her step through the opening. He stood to her right, so she didn’t see him.

She grabbed the edges of her cloak and shook them. Leaves fell around her.

Had she been lying in leaves? And did he smell another male? Had she been with a lover after all?

A low growl scratched his throat.

She jumped then turned her startled glance his way. “Sigurd!” She pressed a hand against her chest. “You frightened me! And…” Her glance trailed over his body then her eyes widened. “You’re naked!” She quickly turned away.

Sigurd didn’t care whether he frightened her. She’d put him through hell. He leapt toward her, whipped her around, then bent his knees. When he again straightened, she lay draped over his shoulder.

“Sigurd!” She cried out, her voice at a higher pitch. “What are you doing?”

“Not what I want,” he bit out, heading quickly back to the water.

Her small fists beat at his lower back, and her feet fluttered. Because she was close to unseating herself with her wriggling, he swatted her ass, feeling no shame at her breathy gasp.

“Put me down!”

“Not until we get to the boat.” Again, he swatted her bottom, taking perverse pleasure in the fact he touched something he’d admired for so long.

“Argh! Neanderthal!”

“I’m a wolf, Aoife. Not a fucking lap dog.” Her rising anger pleased him. Now, she had a glimmer of what he’d felt as he’d waited. “Witch, where did you go?”

“None of your business, cretin! Set me down!”

He winced at the shrillness of her shout. “That’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself…to me.”

“What do you mean?”

They’d reached the boat, so he didn’t bother replying. He bent and put her on her feet.

The moment she stood, Aoife swung her fist.