Euphemia
Heat surrounded me—but there was something else beneath it. Something just out of reach. I tried to grasp it, to name it, but it slipped away each time I reached for it.
My eyelids were heavy. My limbs sluggish. My skin burned as though I were trapped in a fever.
Was I ill?
Would I die before summer ever came?
Something brushed against me.
It made the fever worse—a desperate ache clawing deep inside me.
A hand held my hip, guiding me, steady and sure.
Him.
His scent was everywhere.
Dark musk.
Earth and pine.
His.
I tried to speak, but a soft cloth pressed to my face instead. I breathed it in without thinking.
Him.
I drew it into my mouth, sucking gently, and moaned at the taste.
Him.
Thaddeus.
My eyes snapped open just as a sharp cramp seized my stomach. I groaned, hissing through the pain, and then a slick warmth coated my bloomers.
Oh, God.
This was death coming for me at last. And it wasn’t content with taking my parents.
“Hush, my sweet. Let it come. Let your heat ready your body for me,” he whispered against my ear.
I didn’t understand a word of it.
“Eedjiat,” I gasped, breathless and panicked. “Get a doctor—or a priest. I’m ill. I’m dying.” I lifted my hand, trying to slap at his face, but my strength failed me.
Another cramp coiled low in my belly.
His tongue—warm and slick—curled around my earlobe, a gentle suck that made me shudder despite myself. Then he pressed against me from behind, grinding slowly, deliberately, as if my body were already answering him without my consent.
“You are not ill or dying, Euphemia,” he breathed against my ear, his voice low and steady. “Your beast is awakening—the one living in your chest.” His lips brushed my skin as they trailed down my neck. “You felt her. Heard her growl.”
His hand tightened on my hip, holding me firmly in place before he dragged his hard length between my cheeks.
My insides pulsed in response, traitorous and aching, and I pushed myself back against him—silently begging for more.
“No,” I croaked.
But even as I denied it, all the signs I’d dismissed came crashing down on me at once.
“Listen,” he murmured against my neck.
His chest expanded behind me and he purred—low and animal. The sound rolled straight through me, stealing my breath. My eyes fluttered back as I buried my face in the cloth.
Yes, a voice whispered in the dark.
A soft voice—neither mine nor his. Before I could spiral, his purring drew me back, and I leaned into it, eyes fluttering shut.
“Yes,” I panted, my voice breaking. “More.”
Instantly, his purring deepened, louder and stronger, easing the next cramp low in my belly.
“Do you need more, my sweet? Where does it hurt? Show me where you ache the most,” he purred.
I caught his hand as it rested on my hip and guided it to my belly. His fingers were warm as they began to move, rubbing slow, gentle circles, soothing at first—almost comforting.
But even as the pressure eased, I realised the truth.
The ache wasn’t there.
It came from somewhere lower.
I turned to face him, and my breath caught at the back of my throat. His eyes were bright, the moonlight catching and reflecting in their amber depths.
His arm crept beneath my back as his mouth swooped down. Our lips clashed, and I swallowed his breath as his tongue pried between mine, sealing us together.
He groaned into my mouth, swirling his tongue while I clutched a handful of his thick hair—not to yank him away, but to hold him there.
His fingers inched lower, and I lifted my hips off the bed in answer. His hand curved between my thighs, over my chemise and underwear, teasing me in ways I had no words for.
I traced my fingers over his wrist and down to his hand.
He pulled back, just enough to look into my eyes.
“Not yet,” he said, his lashes fluttering as he leaned in to kiss me—soft, restrained, almost reverent.
“What?” I asked, confused by the mixed signals.
“We need to get you to your nest,” he said, easing back.
“Nest?” I echoed, dazed.
He paused, then set his hand on my belly again, rubbing slow and steady, grounding.
“Our union will take days to conclude,” he said, his voice low and warm.
“Why days?”
“It is what our wolves demand,” he replied with a faint shrug.
“Wolves…” I trailed off, uncertainty creeping in.
The howling that night rose unbidden in my memory. I rubbed at my temple as a dull ache began to throb. Folklore—whispers of wolves and men, of beasts wearing human skin. Just stories.
Yet when I looked at Thaddeus, his eyes were blue again.
“Wolves,” I said quietly, my hand falling to my chest.
“We can leave now, before your symptoms grow worse,” he said. “Or wait until morning.”
Tomorrow would bring more pain—and Uncle Callum would lose his mind. I pushed him back and forced myself upright.
“How far is it?”
His brows lifted as he glanced toward the window, the storm still pressing white against the glass.
“If you climb onto my back… mayhap half an hour.”
Another cramp seized me, wrenching the breath clean from my lungs. I squeezed my eyes shut, riding it out.
I could no longer deny what my body already knew.
The pull.
The heat.
The scent clinging to him like a promise.
When the pain eased, I looked at him once more—then nodded.
The man in the tavern had attacked us both with his words, and when my body reacted, it hadn’t been only for myself. It had been for the Englishman sitting beside me. That realisation alone had sparked a quiet war within me.
But for now, I trusted my gut.
Even if it ached.
? ? ?
I allowed myself to enjoy the sight a moment longer than was considered polite.
Here was the English Laird—standing in over a foot of snow, back bent, waiting patiently for me to mount him.
He twisted his head around.
“Do you need me to go lower?” he grunted.
A sudden, stabbing pain lanced through my abdomen, stealing my breath. That decided it for me. I climbed on quickly, gripping his shoulders as the cramp eased.
“Mush,” I commanded.
He huffed, hands closing firmly around my legs as he straightened.
“You’re lucky you’re my mate,” he said with a sniff before setting off toward the main road.
I grinned and held on around his neck, pressing my face into his hair. It shielded me from the icy air—and let me breathe in his fragrance.