Christmas Wolf Page 5

  A blissful little gasp fell from her lips.

  Her mixed scent of lilac and neroli seeped into his space, filled him with the deep desire to protect her. He’d been fierce his entire life, first among his blood pack, then among Bane’s clan. But what he was experiencing now was protection mode on a whole new level. He wanted Greer marked. Claimed. He wanted every last wolf on the planet to know she was his, that she was off the market.

  And he wanted them all to know God help the wolf who made the mistake of thinking otherwise.

  Crap. He was verra screwed.

  “Are you all right?”

  He almost didna hear his beautiful kitten. “Yes. I’m fine.” He paused. He was not fine. Not in the least.

  Fuck the tree.

  He reached out and pulled Greer to him.

  The ornament in her hand fell, smashed on impact.

  “Oh, my God. I am so sorry.” She trembled.

  “It’s fine.”

  “But…”

  He didn’t give a fig about the damn ornament. It was just a material thing, a trinket that didn’t make up who he was. But Greer on the other hand did.

  He claimed her lips, crushed her to him.

  She parted for him, allowed his tongue to dance with hers.

  The taste of cinnamon and honey filled his mouth, while the heat from her warm body passed through his sweater and kilt. All the cold in the world couldn’t touch him right now.

  Greer moaned. A soft, little noise that sent him over the edge.

  His life was never going to be the same again.

  And it was all thanks to his sweet little kitten.

  ~~o0o~~

  Rhys kissed her like no man had ever done so before. And despite the fact she knew this shouldn’t be happening, resisting him was not possible.

  Between the fiery taste of brandy on his tongue and the sensuous skim of his fingers along the waistline of her leggings, willpower went out the window.

  A warmth spread through her core.

  Pulling back, Rhys lifted his head. “I wasn’t completely honest about the bite, Greer. There’s more you need to know.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I don’t need details, just make me yours.” She was his and always would be.

  Rhys didn’t comment. He took her hand, led her to the white leather sofa where he pulled her down with him.

  She landed gently on top of her strong wolf.

  He reached for her, brought his lips to hers once more, but now with an urgency she hadn’t sensed earlier.

  Visions of Rhys’s world flooded her mind. Things she didn’t know. Things that pained him and things that filled him with joy. No way could she allow Eithne and Frangag to take him. Rhys had lived through a lot and she was certain he had lots more to experience and to offer the world.

  A draft blew in from around the large bay window.

  Greer shivered. A slight little quiver.

  Rhys gently pushed her back and lifted her as he rose from the sofa, a low growl emitting from his throat.

  His immense shifter strength amazed her. From his firm, bulging biceps to his broad chest and long, muscular legs, Rhys MacGregor made for a commanding figure.

  With his formidable size, she could easily see him leading a pack.

  Betas would readily follow him to war.

  Omegas would easily do his bidding.

  And a pack’s women, she hated to admit, would probably willingly follow him into bed.

  A rush of jealousy struck her heart.

  Rhys’s lips curled upward in a slight smile. “I dinna share myself, kitten. Though it pleases me to know you wudna like it if I did.”

  Her cheeks grew warm. “You really shouldn’t read my mind.”

  He kissed her nose, a playful little nip that sent goosebumps dotting her arms, then grabbed a plush throw from the sofa and tossed it to the floor where it landed in front of the fireplace. “You’ll be warmer in just a second.” A few steps forward and he gently laid her on the throw. He settled on top of her, his eyes meeting hers as if searching her soul.

  Pleasure mounted between her legs. One little look from Rhys and she was all his. The man had a hold over her that was going to be trouble for both of them. Of that she was certain.

  She bit her bottom lip.

  Heat from the crackling fire faded out the cold.

  It warmed her skin, but paled compared to the radiant energy coming off her magnificent wolf.

  She never wanted this moment to end.

  In an odd way, she owed Fran and Eithne for leaving her out in the snow in cat form. If they hadn’t, she might not be spending the night here with Rhys.

  His hands glided over her hips.

  Greer gasped.

  Rhys’s fingers slipped under the waistband of her leggings and tugged the garment down past her hips.

  She shimmied the rest of the way out of the pants as Rhys back off, pulled his sweater over his head and then undid his kilt.

  “Hang on a sec.,” he said, going for his boots. He was back before she could blink, his fingers gracing the inner portion of her right thigh.

  The feel of his strong hands stroking her flesh sent a dose of heat rippling through her body. It started at her thighs, fanned upward and then came right back to settle at her clit.

  She bucked forward, while her fingers clenched the edge of the soft throw underneath her.

  To think this morning all she had planned was watching her hunky wolf from a distance, keeping an eye on the man as usual.

  Being under him, legs spread wide, was so not keeping space between them.

  Rhys groaned. The hard length of his cock jutted against her.

  Relinquishing her hold on the throw, Greer reached for her wolf.

  She wanted him.

  In her.

  Fast.

  Slow.

  The tempo didn’t matter. As long as her and her wolf were one, she’d be content.

  She needed this.

  She needed to be his.

  “As I need to be yours.”

  Greer wrapped her fingers around Rhys’s cock, the thick girth of him filling her hand. She moved along his straining shaft with a massaging motion that glided over the smooth length of his flesh.

  A low guttural growl escaped Rhys.

  He grabbed her shirt, ripped open the snaps in one swift pull and dipped his head, his mouth seeking her right nipple.

  The sensitive bud hardened at his command.

  Greer arched her back, her aching nipple desiring more.

  As if reading her with apparent ease, Rhys sucked harder, pulled her fully into his mouth.

  Pain mixed with pleasure.

  She whimpered.

  His hand roamed over her midriff and down to her folds, parting her as his long fingers found her clit and stroked.

  A soft cry fell from her lips.

  Greer arched forward. “Don’t stop.”

  Rhys was more than just her wolf. His proficient skills at making her go weak at his touch, made him seem like a god.

  She moved her hand quicker and tighter over his cock.

  He released her nipple, his breath coming in short pants.

  He pushed her hand away and brought himself to the opening of her slit.

  His fingers dipped inside her, first one long digit, then two.

  The color of his eyes shifted to a deep, dark gray.

  He studied her, his gaze locking with hers.

  The start of a ripple teased her core. Greer spread wider for him, the scent of her arousal reaching her nose. “Take me. Please.”

  He withdrew his fingers and with a slow thrust, slid his shaft inside.

  Greer shifted, brought her knees back as far as she could.

  That was all the man needed. Rhys plunged forward. He thrust deep, sliding the full length of him into her.

  She met his every move.

  Her fingers dug into his shoulders as tiny zaps of electricity pulsed along her slick walls.

  He le
aned forward and bit her neck, teased her flesh with his tongue and teeth. From there he moved back to her breast, applied the same technique to her already sore nipple.

  Her wolf was marking her in more ways than one and she couldn’t be more pleased. The thought of belonging to Rhys escalated her pleasure.

  A spasm exploded between her legs.

  Greer cried out.

  She clutched his shoulders with a deeper hold.

  No way was she ever going to let her sisters take her mate. She’d face Fate herself to spare Rhys. She had to. His survival was now her need.

  Rhys’s moves grew faster, more intent, his body pounding against hers.

  He called out her name. Then shuddered, pumping his seed into her.

  Nothing felt as wondrous as being one with her wolf.

  A moment later Rhys collapsed on top of her.

  She brought her hands to his nape and cradled his head to her neck.

  His breathing eventually slowed, returned to normal.

  The sound of him against her ear pleased her.

  She never imagined her life would turn out like this, to have the man of her dreams as her mate.

  If only she could find a way to change Rhys’s fate.

  Chapter Eight

  After making love, he’d carried her to bed and set her down on the soft sheets.

  Greer spent at least an hour snuggled up to him before turning over and clutching her pillow. The sound of her breathing was like a lullaby that made all his worries drift away.

  If only things could be different. If only he could have a pack of his own.

  Slipping out of bed, Rhys quietly grabbed for his kilt, then headed from the room.

  Greer made his world complete. The woman was amazing in that she didn’t mind him being Bane’s adopted son. Only blood sons could lead a pack. And yet the notion of him never being able to be alpha of his own clan, didn’t seem to bother her. She still allowed him to take her. She accepted him for the man that he was, including being head butler of Wolfsden. Of course, he was going to have to speak to Bane as he did not want his mate working in the castle in the same manner that he did. Making Greer a member of Bane’s family was a must.

  He entered the great room and snatched the throw off the floor. Folding it, he glanced at the box of ornaments on the table. The last time he’d searched that assortment of memorabilia was the night Bane had welcomed him to Wolfsden. Keeping the box in the attic seemed to seal away the hurt of his past, yet, revisiting those old ornaments was worth it tonight. He’d never forget the sight of Greer’s face all lit up with happiness, her eyes filled with awe at all the miniature cats.

  He tossed the throw onto the sofa and then started sifting through the keepsakes. One by one, he pulled them out of the box.

  His mother’s ring.

  His mother’s cross.

  The locket with a clip of his mother’s hair.

  The letter Bane signed, officially acknowledging him as part of the pack. Wolves rarely welcomed strays into their family. But Bane went above and beyond for him that night he’d been roaming the Highlands, his belongings amounting to nothing more than a wood crate filled with a few Christmas ornaments and an odd assortment of trinkets from his mother. Not a single thing among them had come from his real father.

  Pain tore through him.

  He opened the letter and read the information highlighting his bloodline. As he traced his mother’s roots back two generations, the name MacHendrie appeared on the list. Why hadn’t he remembered that in the past? Or course, it made sense now why he’d recognized Greer as his on the instant. All MacHendrie wolves detected their mates the moment they met. But he never recalled having MacHendrie blood. Maybe he was just too out of it the night Bane rescued him from freezing to death on the summit of Mount Dundaire. A storm brewed that night, remnants of the fierce retribution the gods had cast against his father’s pack. The damn thing followed him all the way to Dundaire.

  Rhys continued reading.

  On the back of the last sheet of the three-page document, appeared his father’s signature. Three jagged vertical lines, each etched in red ink, appeared next to the man’s name.

  Bloody hell.

  Not only had the man been willing to let him go in exchange for his newborn son, but he literally included a death certificate.

  Rhys was dead to his blood father.

  Which meant he definitely had no chances at ever claiming his rightful place as alpha of his man’s pack. Not that he ever really thought about doing so, but somewhere in the deepest depths of his soul, there was always that little spark of hope that at least he was still capable of being the leader he was born to be.

  Now that hope had shattered.

  It didn’t matter that he still lived.

  His father had declared him dead and there was no going back on an alpha’s word. Or signature in this case.

  He prayed to the gods his half-brother had survived and that the man never knew the pain he himself had suffered.

  The sound of paws trotting over wood reached his ears.

  Robbie came softly into the great room and sat at his feet, a small whimper rising in his throat.

  Rhys patted the sofa seat. “Come here, buddy. Sit with me.”

  The dog obliged. He placed his head on Rhys’s lap and sighed.

  “I think it’s time we find a new home, boy. How do you feel about that?”

  Robbie’s ears twitched. A soulful look crossed his eyes, then he glanced toward the bedroom and whined.

  “No. I’m afraid Greer winna be coming with us. But I will make sure Bane takes care of her. She deserves better than the two of us. She deserves a man who can be alpha.”

  Robbie didn’t seem convinced.

  But what his dog thought didna matter. Greer’s happiness is what counted and he knew she could never truly be happy with a wolf who stood no chance at having his own pack. It just wasn’t fair to the woman, especially if they ever had pups of their own. Those children would never be able to lead a pack either. They’d suffer the same stigma he did.

  No, he could not ask his mate to bare those hardships.

  Rhys rose and went over to the desk in the study off the great room. He grabbed a sheet of paper from the top draw and started writing a note to Greer, letting her know what to do now that he’d marked her.

  He also needed to get in touch with Vidar. That blasted Viking owed him a favor after costing him the tree topper. And picking up Greer from Mount Dundaire was the least that Norseman could do.

  With note in hand, Rhys walked into the great room, packaged up the cat ornaments and wrote Greer’s name on the box, then he headed to the bedroom. He placed the folded letter on his empty pillow.

  Greer would be protected as a member of Bane’s pack. Her wicked sisters would never be able to get near her again.

  He brushed a light kiss across her forehead, the scent of lilac filling his nose. He’d never forget his mate but his kitten was better off without him.

  Snatching his duffle bag from the floor, Rhys headed out.

  Chapter Nine

  Greer woke to the pleasant aroma of bacon, maple syrup, and hazelnut coffee.

  After last night’s love making, she was famished. Hopefully, Rhys didn’t take her words too seriously about the two sandwiches. This morning she could probably eat three.

  She stretched and reached over to his side of the bed. While she hadn’t expected to find her wolf still under the covers if he was cooking, she didn’t expect for her hand to collide with a cold piece of paper.

  Greer sat up. She grabbed the folded note and scanned its contents. None of the words made sense. What was he talking about deserving someone better, a wolf who could be alpha of his own pack? None of that mattered to her. Rhys was a great guy. Plus, she’d known about his father disowning him, centuries ago. She never expected him to be alpha, though he did have the qualities to do so.

  Of course, she never told Rhys that she knew about his past
, knew why he couldn’t lead a pack, because then she would have had to come clean about being banshee. She had hoped by allowing him to mark her as his was all the man needed from her. That alone should have proved to him that she loved him.

  Damn it. And the man thought his Viking friend was dense.

  She needed to find Rhys.

  A strong, hulk of a fellow appeared in the bedroom doorway, a breakfast tray in his hands. “I hope you are hungry.”

  She grabbed the sheet and pulled it over herself. “Who are you and where’s Rhys?”

  The man placed the tray on the edge of the bed, then backed up. “I am Vidar. And…” He hesitated. “I am sorry to tell you Rhys has left us.”

  “Left?”

  “Yes. He is gone. I will mourn him, but that is the way of life.”

  Her heart raced.

  Her Rhys was dead and it was all her fault.

  Pain flared in her chest. How could the love of her life be gone after she’d just found him? “When did this happen?”

  “Overnight, I guess.”

  “You guess? You mean you don’t know when he died? Where is his body? If it happened overnight, then surely he must still be in the cabin. I couldn’t have slept through something like that. And how would anyone even know? Rhys and I were alone up here.”

  The Viking raised one blond eyebrow. He tilted his head, a perplexed look crossing his stern features. “Who said the skirt wearer was dead?”

  Relief flooded through her. “Okay, let me get this straight. Rhys is alive, but not here.”

  “Yes. He has gone. Did you not hear my words, woman?”

  Now she knew what Rhys meant about Vidar. “Well, we have to find him or…” She was going to have to tell the Viking who she was. What she was.

  “I am waiting,” he said.

  “Or Rhys will die. The banshees are slated to cry for him at midnight, Christmas Eve.”

  Vidar folded his massive arms in front of his chest. “How do you know this?”

  “Because I am that banshee. Or rather my sisters will be because I won’t do the task. I don’t believe it is Rhys’s time.”