The Hunger (The Lycans 3)

She had no reason to trust me after all the shit I’d done, and I’d prove for the rest of my life I’d never fuck this up.

My Darragh was truly a gift—the greatest one—and that would make any man, human or Otherworld, realize how fucking good he had it.

27

Darragh

I was nervous as I watched Caelan load up the Range Rover. Being hesitant to leave this place and go to his family’s home seemed so misplaced. Like after everything I’d been through, this was the most mundane thing to happen to me.

I turned and looked at the home I’d been staying at for such a short time. It had only been a couple of days at most, yet it seemed like I’d been here a lifetime already. I guess finding out your life had been even more of a mystery than you ever thought could age someone considerably.

I looked over my shoulder at the man who’d ended up going down on me three more times last night. A shiver of awareness and awkwardness rose in me swiftly, and there was no trying to tame it. He’d acted like he was starved to lick between my thighs, as if he’d die if he didn’t get me off.

Oh God. I started breathing harder as my body lit up at the memories of the numerous orgasms Caelan had wrenched from me just hours before. And never once did he want me to reciprocate, even though I felt how hard he’d been as his length dug against my belly… or how much I all but begged to do the same for him.

I tried to focus on nonsexual stuff, because the last thing I needed was another round of Caelan sensing my desire and burying his face between my thighs. Although that didn’t sound like the worst idea…

No, not gonna go there.

I looked around the house again, noting the heavy white cloth draped over pieces of furniture to keep the dust off, and I noticed the same with the material hanging over light fixtures and secured with ties. I had a lot of questions about the house and was curious about the history, but in the grand scheme of things… yeah, I didn’t need any more wondering about non-consequential things.

Caelan gave me a general rundown of the place and how the house was situated on hundreds of acres of land his family owned. Apparently my mate—which was still a term I was trying to get used to—and his family owned so many properties, not only in Scotland but all over the world, that this particular home was just a drop in the bucket for the McGregor real estate footprint.

Last night we’d stayed up for hours just talking and learning about each other. He told me about his family, and I heard the love in his voice as he told me stories about growing up. I’d felt how much he cared for them, could tell how happy he was, what a great childhood Caelan had. I envied that, but as I thought about it, I realized I wasn’t alone anymore. I had a family now.

Crazy to think and realize.

On top of all that, I’d been shocked to learn he was a triplet. Three men who look just like Caelan? Lord have mercy.

Then there was the story about his sister, Ainslee, and her crazy—literally—mate Luca, and how Caelan’s family had tried to keep them apart, but then Luca took her. I learned that the fight I’d seen in the woods before I’d run from Caelan had been a kind of shifter war to get her back. And I heard the regret in his voice as he spoke of hurting his sister and denying Luca his mate. He told me that last part as he stared into my eyes, as he whispered he finally knew what being whole was, and to withhold that from anyone was the greatest affront.

It was starting to become pretty clear the men of the Otherworld were a little too over-the-top and crazy for their own good. It was hard to wrap my head fully around the clear possessiveness the males of this supernatural world felt for their mate and how this whole Linked Connection worked.

Although I could have listened to him speak about his life and this fantasy world all night long, he’d seemed so eager to hear about me. He asked about my life, and although I’d never spoken about it aside from with Evelyn, I found it easy to tell him how it had been growing up in the foster system.

I told him about my search for who my father was and where my family had come from. I told him I’d known next to nothing about my parents, that my grandparents had died shortly after coming to America, that my mother died during childbirth. I told him that my father had never been in my life, and how I’d hoped coming to Scotland would give me answers.