Chapter 25 Thane
Thane
Full moon. Only hours away.
Soon it would rise, swollen with power, bringing even more turmoil to a male who’d spent weeks adrift in chaos—ever since he’d last seen Ditch atop the Mount.
Since she’d sauntered away in that scrap of lace, tail swishing.
Since she’d almost made him laugh…and awakened a possessiveness he’d never imagined he could feel.
As the noon sun spilled over the sea beyond his castle, he paced his chambers, fangs clenched. What else was there to do but stalk and stew? His days of deep drinking and carousing were over. He could think of nothing but her—his nemesis, his undoing—and that was even before her letters…
Greedy for more peeks into her complicated mind, he’d begun the exchange himself, summoning Jastorgh, an outside demon courier, to deliver a missive to the haunted Strix Keep.
In the first letter, Thane had kept it short, sharp, and meant to provoke:
Witch,
I liked that coat. Return it directly.
King Thane
Craigdúr
While waiting for her reply, he’d prowled his rooms, replaying the fire in her eyes as she’d challenged him, her boldness like nectar for a male dying of thirst.
Just recalling her taunting grin made him hard. His tongue flicked in his mouth as he recalled that impudent nipple emerging between blond locks. He wanted to suckle her until she couldn’t stand it anymore and grazed him with a horn.
But more than physical need plagued him. The weight of the Skein pressed on his shoulders, the strain of a king whose queen stood vulnerable in hostile territory.
Lowell’s continued investigations with Meera had yielded little, save for one certainty: the coven despised Ditch and actively plotted against her.
Thane understood why. She was a menace. Had she truly murdered and cannibalized one of her own?
Unknown.
Would he accept her anyway?
Aye. Known.
She’d taken her sweet bloody time replying. Days passed before Jastorgh had dropped off a scroll. Alone, Thane had torn it open like prey.
Wolf,
The coat is mine. Once I claim territory, I never cede it back. Also, I inhale it when I masturbate. My compliments; your scent is aphrodisiacal.
Ditch
House of Witches, Skein Coven
The bold cursive had blurred before him, his mind and body gone aflame.
His mate touching her cunny…as she took in his scent… Frenzy. Pants shoved to his knees, he’d come with one stroke. Ropes of pearly semen had jetted to spatter the floor of his room.
Once he recovered enough to pen a response, he’d written:
Witch,
I should be wearing that coat whenever you pleasure yourself anywhere in its vicinity. Fair is fair, and my scent’s better in person.
A coat and your finger—or me and my tongue? You don’t strike me as the type to settle.
King Thane
After dispatching it with Jastorgh, he’d waited for her to respond. And waited. The winged Volar demon had arrived this very morning, looking dazed. Once he’d teleported away, Thane had cracked open the scarlet seal stamped with a leafless oak.
Wolf,
Who said anything about a finger? I have a flexible tail with a lusty mind of its own. Does your tongue have a mind of its own? Seems so. Speaking of scents…this parchment is absorbent.
Happy jacking!
D
She used her tail? Great gods. Some demons had tails so complex they could give a massage or inject a poison; she self-pleasured with hers.
He’d inhaled the page in a frothing lather. She’d laced it with her orgasm. Breathing her climax, fanging the paper, he’d torn his breeches down. Too late. He’d already been coming a flood in them.
After regaining his senses, he’d growled low. No wonder the demon courier had looked dazed. He’d scented her release too!
Thane had readied a piece of parchment and responded to her in kind—his culmination for hers—with a thicker envelope and no words. The volume spoke volumes.
Despite the envelope, Jastorgh had known what he was about to deliver. Before the demon had disappeared, he’d winked. “This is truly a golden age of correspondence!”
Now, as the sun slipped toward the sea, Thane paced again, awaiting a reply—and moonrise. Tonight would be grueling.
The more he learned about his mate, the more he desired a future with her. Yet it was forever out of reach. Even if he could somehow win her, this realm would never allow their union.
Not that Ditch wanted to be with him. She played with him only to gain the upper hand for her coven.
If fate meant to punish him, she’d chosen well—temptation married to torment. He cast his mind back, searching for some punishable sin. He’d done nothing to warrant having an enemy mate.
When Jastorgh returned at last, the demon’s grin was too wide. “The most fun I’ve had in ages. I feel like I’ve bedded both of you.”
“Begone.” Thane opened her seal.
Wolf,
Your offering was acceptable. More is required. Unless you’d like me to consume your semen-stained paper, we should meet tonight.
D
Offering. Required.
Those words hit like fists. His mate demanded worship, and gods help him, he wanted to give it. In turn, he wanted her to tame him for a spell—right before he unleashed himself and his beast to master her as well.
To fuck and claim. To bite and mark.
Did she already suspect she was his fated female? Had her letters been devised to test him? Establish the wolf’s sexual interest, then extend an invitation for more on the one telling night of the calendar.
Cagey witch. His refusal to meet tonight would be a glaring red flag.
As ever, he was to be denied what he desired and left hungry. He clenched his jaw and scrawled a final reply.
Kingdom business. Another time.
Thane
Jastorgh had just vanished with the letter when banging sounded on Thane’s chamber door.
Lowell barged in, keys jangling like broken chains. “No more putting me off, damn it!”
Thane tensed. “Why the hells do you have keys to my private quarters?”
“I’m the steward,” Lowell said, unapologetic as ever. “I’ve got keys to everywhere. If you doona like it, fire me.”
Thane ground his teeth. The kingdom wouldn’t last a day if I did. He’d been blessed with brilliant seneschals all his life—until he’d literally lost his last one, the best of them all.
Ailsa.
He’d brought Lowell on not for administrative skill but because the teenage tracker had been legendary for his nose, for the way he could find anything or anyone, even through storms and illusions. Thane had prayed he could find Ailsa. But it was as if she’d been erased from the Skein.
Still, the lad had worked himself into indispensability, quietly taking over every task Thane least enjoyed. Which only made him more irritating now.
Lowell wrinkled his nose, waving his hand as if warding off a stench. “Gods, it reeks in here! Crack a bloody window if you’re going to spill seed like a callow lad who’s just discovered what his cock can do.”
“You’re trying my patience.”
“Moonrise is in an hour. It’s time. You know it’s time.”
Thane exhaled. “Everything prepared?”
Lowell nodded, sobering. “No’ that you’ve been around to notice, but aye, we’re set up on the Mount. Look, tonight will be brutal, but mayhap something will shift before next month.”
“How goes it with Ditch’s assistant?”
“I’ve seen her nightly.” Lowell’s voice thrummed with some unknown excitement. “But she does no’ have sway with the new high priestess. I get the feeling no one does.”
“Have you tupped Meera?” Thane asked.
Lowell shook his head. “Just talking and necking.” Judging by his enlarged pupils and accelerated heartbeat, he enjoyed one or both of those activities very much.
“Ditch and I have been writing each other.”
“I know.” At Thane’s look, Lowell said, “There’s little I doona know in this castle. I’d hoped those letters might soften her a touch.”
“I don’t believe Ditch does soft. I think she suspects she’s mine but only toys with me. Have you found out what her other powers are? Akelarre would no’ have sent a witch here with no battle magic.”
“Nay, I’ve no’ been able to. And I doona suggest you ask her. Apparently, it’s bad form for us to query a witch about her power. But I got the impression she’s definitely qualified for her job—”
A howl sounded from the dungeon.
Lowell bit out a curse. “I dinna tell you, but Straegan tried to break free again. Dented the bermetal bars.”
Thane froze. “The same Berserker steel as my cage?” If Straegan had nearly escaped with no mate to lure him, could Thane tonight?
“Aye. But you’ll keep control with the Mount’s magic. The cage is just another redundancy. In fact, I’ve ordered your sentries to Straegan instead. If he kills again…”
His byname among the pack was Mauler. Straegan the Mauler.
His victim hadn’t gone easily.
Thane’s beast snarled inside him. “He’ll go straight for Ditch.” Stealing her life was the surest way to seize control of the pack.
Lowell nodded. “He would have heard all the whispers in this castle. He’d know she’s the key to taking you down.”
Thane considered informing Ditch she was his mate, but she was sworn to subjugate his people; he’d rather not hand her this decisive advantage. Still, he would do everything in his power to protect her.
He held Lowell’s gaze. “Every guard on him. If he tries the bars again, take him down. Royal or not, spare him nothing.”
Lowell’s voice was iron. “She’s my queen by fate. I’ll guard her with my life.”
“Good. Because I canna tonight.” Thane trusted no one like Lowell. “Let’s get this over with.” Before heading down to the bailey, Thane gave Lowell one last look. Doona let me down…
By dusk, Timofee had traced him to the base of the Mount, then left him behind with a sympathetic expression.
At the summit, the cage gleamed, waiting. Thane squared his shoulders and approached the enclosure. His beast must have figured out the plan because it thrashed inside. The magic of the Mount kept it quelled. Somewhat.
He stepped inside and let the lock click shut behind him, beginning his twelve hours of torture. He sank down to the bottom of the cage, leaning back against the bars.
Is this my future? Every month to return here?
All these years of fantasizing about matehood, and he’d been denied his female when he needed her most. The rising globe already heated his blood. His claws dug into his palms as he tried to quash fantasies of what he’d do to her beneath the moon…
He was hard as stone when a voice drifted up the slope—wicked, unmistakable. “Fee-fi-fo-fum,” Ditch sang. “I smell the blood of my pen pal.”
He shot to his feet, body coiled tight. How had she guessed where he’d be? She must know her connection to him and put together where he’d be forced to spend this night.
Almost in sight, she continued, “Do you know what fee-fi-fo-fum means? Behold food, good to eat, sufficient for my hunger. How fitting!” She emerged through the silvered mist, barefoot, hair gleaming, wearing his coat. Belted tight, nothing else.
The moon had just crested the horizon when the scent of her sex hit him. A double shot of delirium rocked him.
Gods have mercy.
He took in her lustrous green eyes, her curving lips. His attention roamed lower, past her waist. Good to eat, sufficient for my hunger.
No, no! “Ditch, you canna be here.” His voice was hoarse. His fangs and claws grew longer, his beast howling inside him. Only the Mount’s magic held it in check. “You must leave.”
Her smile flashed white and dangerous. “Aren’t you in a pickle, wolf? Not a single guard? Now why would you be caged on this night in a place that tamps down your beast? Is this your ‘kingdom business’?”
He gripped the bars. “Leave. For your own good.”
She drifted closer, ethereal. “Looks like you’ve found your mate. Who’s the lucky female?” She pursed her lips into a red pout that called to his tongue. “Won’t tell me? Maybe you think she’s not receptive?” The moon was directly behind her, limning those horns of hers.
He shuddered with want, his cockhead gone wet. “How did you know I would be here?”
“Unfortunately for you, I’m a witch with witchly ways.” Her laugh was both caress and slap. “In that cage, you can look but not touch. You can scent but not taste. Must be maddening that the entire world is passing you by. I could pass you by.”
“I want you to. You must go! Godsdamn you, witch.”
“Oh, Thane, they did that long ago.”
“You doona know what you’re playing with.”
“Fire?” She licked her lips. “What if I like the burn?”
Fuuuck.