Wolf Moon Rising (Beaux Rêve Coven 3)

The wind whipped up, tugging at the curtains. The branches creaked.

“If it crashes around us, I’m not stopping,” Sigurd said, his voice louder.

“Don’t stop,” she said, digging her fingernails into the muscles on either side of his spine.

He powered into her, thrusting straight and sure.

Their breathing grew louder than the chanting and the thunder cracking in the distance. The ground beneath them shook.

Aoife cried out at the moment their souls bonded. Ecstasy shuddered through her.

Sigurd surged hard one last time, and then his back arched. His shout echoed as lightning brightened the sky. His hot come jetted deep inside.

Suspended in the moment, she saw his face clearly in the bluish light. His eyes glowed, his expression was feral and triumphant. She reached up and slid her hand along his cheek. He nuzzled against it then leaned toward her. His kiss was another claim. A hard, thorough promise.

When he collapsed against her body, she wrapped her arms around him, savoring the waning pulses of his cock lodged deep inside her. In her mind, shadows swirled.

There would be a child. A girl—dark-haired like her father with blue-green sparkling eyes. Trouble was coming to Bonne Nuit. Something dark. But their bond was strong. Her coven, his band of demons—they would prevail.

She could almost see the moment of their victory, but then the vision faded.

“Where did you go?” Sigurd whispered in her ear.

Part of her wanted to blurt out what she’d seen, but she sensed this wasn’t something to be shared with anyone except her sisters. Not yet, anyway. And knowing that their minds were linked, she quickly shuttered the vision from his view.

There was much to be done. Two more sisters to be strengthened through the mating bond. She’d have to tell her sisters to hurry the hell up.

“Aoife?” Sigurd was frowning now.

Summoning her flighty side, she gave him a blinding smile. “Wasn’t it wonderful?”

His gaze narrowed, but a slow smile stretched. “Was it everything you dreamed?”

“Even better, but now that we’re past all that, I still expect you to show me all those infinite ways.”

Sigurd threw back his head and laughed.

Relieved she’d distracted him, she relaxed. She hadn’t noticed the storm’s passing. Silence surrounded them. She was ready to move the party indoors and let Sigurd show her in bright electrical light what she’d been denying herself all these years.

So, although tradition dictated that the male offer the first part of their vows, she said in a steady voice, “Once bound, we’ll never part.”

His teeth flashed. “One love, one true heart,” he replied, equally as strong, giving her the second part of the ancient promise.

“There,” she said. “You’re mine.”

He canted his head. “Are we in a hurry?”

“See? You can already read my mind.”

He moved backward, groaning when his cock fell free of her body. Then he reached for her hand and tugged until she followed him outside.

The meadow was empty. The torches smoking. Aoife glanced up at her wolf. “Can we look for our clothes tomorrow?”

Sigurd’s gaze sharpened, and his chest billowed. “First one inside gets whatever he wishes.” Then he darted away, running toward the road.

Aoife laughed and called after him, “Not fair! My legs are shorter!” But she followed, her legs stretching to catch up.

He ran purposely slow enough she almost caught him, racing up the steps at the side of her porch. When he turned and stepped backward through the front door, she bent over, laughing and gasping for breath.