Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
SIOBHAN
S iobhan stared up at Daragh, breathing raggedly, her lips swollen, and her cheeks flushed. His hands remained tangled in her hair; his chest rose and fell with the remnants of his pleasure. His taste lingered on her tongue, reminding her of how completely she had given in and how easily his dominance had consumed her.
She should have hated him for it. Hated herself for how much she had enjoyed it. Instead, she felt something far more dangerous—an ache that had nothing to do with shame and everything to do with need.
Daragh pulled out and folded himself back into his trousers. Releasing his grip on her hair, he let his fingers slide down to cup her jaw. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, smearing the moisture there, a small, satisfied sound rumbling from his throat. “Good girl,” he murmured.
Heat flared in her cheeks. She clenched her fists against her thighs, resisting the urge to wipe her mouth just to defy him. He had taken what he wanted, but she had taken something from him, too. For a brief moment, she had been in control, and she had seen it—the way his perfect composure had cracked, the way his body had betrayed him.
But any illusion of power she had gained shattered in an instant when he bent down, gripped her waist, and hauled her up as if she weighed nothing.
“Daragh…” she gasped, but he was already moving.
He hoisted her effortlessly over his shoulder, his arm locking around her thighs as he strode out of the study as if she were nothing more than a disobedient pet being carried off for punishment.
Siobhan kicked against his hold, her fists pounding against his back. “Put me down, you bastard!”
Daragh’s chuckle was deep, rumbling through his chest, as he landed a hard swat on her backside. “You’ll learn to watch that mouth, kitten.”
“I’ll learn to claw your damn eyes out.”
His hand came down again sharply against the curve of her backside, the sting shooting straight through her, sending a traitorous shiver down her spine.
Siobhan stilled, barely breathing. He had spanked her. Her face burned as she tried to twist in his grip, but he tightened his hold, carrying her up the stairs with easy, measured strides.
“I think you like being over my shoulder,” he mused. “I wonder how you’d react if I had you over me knee?”
Color rose in her face because she had a bad feeling that he knew the answer to that and so did she. Each time he’d smacked her ass, the pain had bloomed and then spread into a warm glow that went straight to her pussy.
She let out a frustrated sound, shoving at his back, but it did nothing. He was like steel, immovable, unshakable. She wanted to curse him, but her throat was dry, her thoughts tangled.
By the time they reached the second level of the estate, she was seething… and wildly aroused. He kicked open the door to her room, strode inside, and dropped her onto the bed like she was nothing more than a rag doll. Siobhan bounced against the mattress, propping herself up on her elbows, breathing hard.
Daragh stood over her, his gaze unreadable, his body still humming with a restrained energy that made her chest tighten.
She scrambled upright, her hands gripping the sheets. “You don’t get to just throw me around like...”
Daragh’s eyes darkened, his voice slow, deliberate. “I own you, kitten.” He leaned down, bracing his hands on either side of her hips. “And you just proved how much you like it. I can smell your arousal, but you’ll have to wait.”
Siobhan’s breath caught. She hated him for saying it. Hated him even more because some deep, primal part of her agreed.
“Wait for what?”
“To have me bury myself in you and use you as you were made to be used—as you desire to be used.” But not until you’ve taken your vows.”
She tore her gaze away, staring at the door instead, her fingers digging into the mattress. “What do you mean vows? You’re going to keep me here until I say ‘I do’?”
“Yes, but do not upset yourself, kitten. The priest will be here tomorrow evening. A seamstress will arrive in the morning to fit the bridal dress I selected for you after it’s delivered. I’ve also arranged for your hair and makeup to be done.”
“I won’t…”
“You will. One way or another, you will. I expect you to behave. If you can’t, I will find ways to ensure you have no choice.” He looked at the iron collar wrapped around her throat.
“Why not?”
He chuckled. “Because you won’t be running.”
Siobhan’s hands twitched at her sides, the instinct to flee warring with the knowledge that she wouldn’t make it past the front gate.
Daragh reached into his pocket, pulling out a small iron key. Without breaking eye contact, he slid his fingers beneath the collar still locked around her throat, the cold metal pressing into her skin. Her heartbeat roared in her ears.
With a soft click , the collar came loose.
She swallowed hard as he pulled it away, setting it carefully on the nightstand.
The relief was immediate. The dampening sensation that had pressed against her panther eased, the familiar connection between her human and animal selves snapping back into place. But before she could relish it, Daragh’s voice cut through her thoughts.
“I won’t need this anymore,” he said smoothly.
Siobhan’s hands twitched at her sides, the instinct to flee warring with the knowledge that she wouldn’t make it past the front gate.
Daragh studied her for a moment, then tilted his head slightly. “That being said… I have something for you, should you decide to misbehave.”
She looked up sharply as he reached into a drawer beside the bed and withdrew something she immediately hated.
A filigreed iron collar studded with diamonds. It was delicate, intricate, a cruel mockery of beauty—designed to fit around her throat like a piece of fine jewelry while still serving its real purpose.
Siobhan’s breath came fast. “You wouldn’t…”
Daragh’s grin was slow, dangerous. “You want to find out?”
Her jaw clenched. She wanted to lunge at him, to claw at his throat, but all she could do was glare at the collar in his hand, knowing he would use it if she forced him to. Siobhan’s stomach dropped. She barely heard the next words as he straightened, brushing his fingers over her hair in a mockery of affection.
“And tomorrow night…” His gaze flicked down her body, sending a slow ripple of heat through her. “You’ll be mine in every way.”
Then he turned, leaving her sitting there with her throat bare, her mind racing, her heart thundering against her ribs. The door closed with a quiet click. Siobhan’s hands clenched the sheets.
Twenty-four hours ago, she had thought she could find a way out of this. Now, she was fairly sure she couldn’t, and worse, she wasn’t so sure she wanted to.
The cool morning air carried the scent of damp earth and sea salt as Siobhan stepped onto the terrace, a steaming cup of coffee cradled between her palms. The estate grounds stretched before her, the mist curling around the treetops, the first light of dawn just beginning to bleed across the horizon. It should have been peaceful.
But it wasn’t. Her skin prickled, instincts stirring just beneath the surface. Something felt… off.
She sipped her coffee slowly, glancing at the two guards who were stationed beneath her balcony the previous night. They had moved—positioning themselves at the terrace’s edge instead. A change in routine. Small, but significant. Daragh wanted her to know that she was still under guard.
She set the coffee down on the stone railing, feigning relaxation as she let her senses expand, taking in the subtle details of her surroundings. The rhythmic chirp of insects. The distant crash of waves. The sound of boots scuffing over damp grass.
Something was happening. Her breath came slower now, shallower, her fingers curling against the rough stone of the railing.
Then she saw it—a flicker of movement in the trees. A ripple in the shadows.
The two guards at the edge of the terrace stiffened. A beat later, they dropped.
Siobhan barely had time to react before she heard the telltale click of a weapon being drawn behind her. She moved before instinct fully registered the danger.
A sharp lunge, a twist, her elbow snapping back toward the figure that had tried to close the space between them. A pained grunt, a stumble. She spun, catching the glint of a syringe in the man’s hand—MI5.
They had come for her.
She threw herself backward, dodging the first grab, her heart hammering. The second man closed in fast. Too fast.
Siobhan ducked, swiping her leg out in a brutal arc. His knee buckled. He went down hard, cursing. The other one lunged for her wrist, the syringe still gripped tight in his fist.
She twisted violently, trying to rip free, but he was strong. Stronger than she expected.
Panic flared in her chest. No. Not panic. Instinct. Something inside her snapped.
For the first time in years, she let go. A low, guttural growl tore from her throat as the shifting mist swirled up, surrounding her in thunder and lightning as the shift surged through her as bones and muscles shifted and fur rippling along her skin.
The agent’s eyes widened in shock as the mist melted away and revealed Siobhan’s sleek, deadly form of her panther. She landed on all fours, her claws digging into the stone, her breath a growl, her tail lashing once as the predator inside her fully took hold.
The agent hesitated for half a second. A fatal mistake. Siobhan lunged. Her claws raked across his forearm, the syringe flying from his grasp as she took him down, her teeth snapping dangerously close to his throat. He choked out a panicked curse, scrambling beneath her, but it was too late.
She felt his fear. The way his body locked up, his pulse thundering wildly. She pressed her massive paw against his chest, her eyes burning into his. The second agent was already scrambling to recover, reaching for his weapon.
She turned on him with a snarl. He froze. His gaze flicked between her and his partner, realization dawning that this was no ordinary extraction. No ordinary woman.
His hesitation cost him. Boots thundered against the stone. A gun cocked. Siobhan’s ears twitched just as a gunshot rang out. The second agent crumpled before he could fire.
She turned just as Daragh stepped onto the terrace, his gun still raised, his expression calm, too calm, as if he had expected this to happen all along. His gaze flicked to her, his mouth curving into something dark, unreadable.
“Look at you, kitten,” he murmured, lowering his gun slightly as he took in her panther form. “Should’ve known it’d take something like this to make you finally let go.”
Siobhan let out a low growl, her fur bristling, but she didn’t move.
Daragh took a slow step forward, his voice dropping to something almost amused. “Now, be a good girl and shift back.”
The demand curled around her, sparking something deep inside her that had nothing to do with obedience and everything to do with the way her body still throbbed with the wild, heady rush of her first true shift in years.
She had forgotten what it felt like. Forgotten the freedom .
Daragh crouched slightly, his gaze locked onto hers, something deeper flashing behind the command. “Or,” he mused, tilting his head, “should I start giving orders in a way you actually want to obey?”
Siobhan’s snarl was immediate. Daragh’s chuckle was low, dark. She hated him. Hated how much she liked the way he said it. She forced her panther back into the recesses of her mind.
DARAGH
Daragh had seen nothing as mesmerizing as Siobhan standing before him—naked, fierce, and utterly lethal. The blood-slicked terrace was littered with bodies, but his gaze never left her. Not for a single second.
She was breathing hard, her eyes still glowing from the shift, her skin flushed from the fight. Her panther had been magnificent—sleek, powerful, deadly. He had watched her move with brutal efficiency, her instincts razor-sharp. She had fought like she was born for this, like she had finally stopped denying what she was.
And now? Now she knelt before him, human once more, her pulse hammering against her throat, her body vibrating with the aftershocks of battle.
Daragh knew that feeling. He lived for that feeling. The heat of combat, the rush of dominance, the certainty of standing victorious when the dust settled.
But this was different. This wasn’t just any fight. Wasn’t just any kill. This was her .
His blood still ran hot, his body taut with the need to take—to claim what was his. It had been bad before, but now? Now that he had seen her for what she truly was, it was far worse.
She was his. His fated mate. His match. His problem and his salvation, all wrapped into one furious, untamed woman.
Daragh forced his breathing even, but it didn’t matter. Siobhan could feel it. He saw the way her pupils dilated, the way her lips parted slightly, the way her hands clenched into fists like she wanted to fight the very thing she already knew was inevitable .
He lifted a hand, dragging the backs of his fingers along her jaw, needing to touch her, needing to feel the heat of her skin beneath his fingertips.
Siobhan shivered, her body betraying her despite the fire still burning in her gaze.
Daragh leaned in, just enough to brush his lips over the sensitive spot beneath her ear, his voice dark, heated. “I knew you were magnificent, but fuck , kitten.” He let the words hang between them, his fingers tracing the bare skin where her iron collar had been just days ago. “I don’t think you even realize who and what you truly are.”
Siobhan sucked in a sharp breath, but she didn’t pull away. Daragh shifted his grip, his hand curving around the side of her neck, not squeezing, just holding her there. His thumb stroked her pulse, feeling it race beneath his touch. He could still scent her arousal, no matter how hard she tried to mask it.
“You were made for me,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear, his grip tightening just slightly. “You just don’t want to admit it yet.”
She shuddered, a barely there tremble that had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with this—with them. Daragh let himself smile slowly as he realized she felt it. She knew.
Siobhan clenched her jaw, her nails biting into her palms, as if sheer force of will could keep her body from responding. As if she could somehow deny the pull between them.
Daragh pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. He saw the battle raging in her, the part of her that wanted him, that needed to submit to the dominant force he exuded, fighting against the part of her that still clung to her carefully constructed illusion of control.
Too bad. That illusion had shattered the moment she had let her panther out.
He ran his thumb along her jaw, watching as she fought to steady her breathing. “You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured.
Siobhan said nothing. She didn’t need to. Her body screamed the answer. Daragh chuckled, low and dark. She could fight this all she wanted. Hell, she could pretend, could lie to herself, could run. But she’d never be able to escape the truth. Not anymore.
Because now? Now, he knew.