He still couldn’t believe she’d come to him tonight. The things she’d said. The emotion that blazed in her eyes. He didn’t deserve any of it, but he didn’t doubt her. They were well matched; he’d known that from the first days of their marriage. It was he who had set fire to it all. He’d thought he’d ruined everything. He’d believed it was over between them, despite that they loved each other.
But tonight, Lara had given him hope.
She raised her head then, tossing her curtain of hair over her shoulder. Her gaze sought his—but all Alar could see was the angry red crescent where he’d bitten her. It marred her milky skin.
His breathing quickened as he raised his hand, his fingers brushing the mark.
Peering down at her shoulder, Lara’s brow furrowed. “Why do I enjoy that so much?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve never heard of the wulver’s mating bond then?”
She stilled, her lips parting. “No.”
“They don’t have handfasting ceremonies. Instead, when a wulver takes a mate, they mark them. They are together for life, after that. Only death separates them.” His lips curved then. “Lyall and Dolph have such a bond.”
Lara’s pupils flared wide, her lips parting. Then, she reached out, her fingertips tracing the lines of his tattoo. Her touch made him shiver. Did this woman have any idea of the effect she had on him? He was utterly in her thrall.
She swallowed then, her gaze lifting to his once more. “So, I was yours then … even a year ago?”
Alar’s eyes fluttered shut, recalling that heated night, the evening before Dulross. He’d lost control, had given himself to the hunger that had been growing for days. Aye, he’d marked her, and he’d hated himself for it ever since. He’d been a selfish bastard, doing that the night before betraying her.
“I always wanted to feel closer to the wulvers,” he replied after a pause. “And ever since I had this tattoo inked upon my skin, something lupine now lives within me.”
“I’ve seen it.” Her fingers continued to trace the wolf’s head. “When you fight … and when the bog wights had you at The Shattered Crown. Your eyes glowed red. You snarled like a wolf.”
“It’s a part of me now,” he admitted softly. “Does it bother you?”
Her gaze lifted to his once more. “No.”
They stared at each other then. “Your people aren’t going to be happy about this,” he said finally. He didn’t want to shatter the moment, but he had to be practical. The sight of the Half-blood riding at the High Queen’s side through the gates of Duncrag would likely cause an uproar. They all knew what he’d done.
Lara lifted a hand, stroking his jaw. However, her gaze never left his. “No. But I’ve weathered their anger before … and this time, we bring good news home with us. I will tell them of your valor. I will ensure everyone learns about the part you played at The Shattered Crown.”
He snorted softly. “Other than being Mor’s sacrificial goat?” His skin prickled then as he recalled kneeling on that stone. He’d known something was off. He should have trusted his instincts.
Lara’s chin rose. “She thought she’d outwitted us all.” Her eyes narrowed then. “She believed your father would stand byand watch you die. That was her mistake. She didn’t understand love … or what people will do for it.”
When Lara emerged from the alcove, cloak wrapped around her shoulders, with Alar at her side, she found the rest of their party already awake and seated by the hearth. Duana and Eithne had joined them. The sisters were frying oatcakes on a hot iron griddle. The sweet, nutty aroma drifted through the roundhouse.
Their hands wrapped around hot cups of broth, the others lifted their heads, their gazes tracking Lara and Alar.
None of them looked surprised, and warmth rolled over Lara.
It was too late to be embarrassed though. After overhearing Cailean and Bree, she knew how sound traveled. And they’d forgotten themselves. Alar had taken her twice more during the night, each time louder and lustier than the last.
She wouldn’t be surprised if nobody in this roundhouse had gotten much sleep.
Lara didn’t speak as she approached the hearth. Instead, she lowered herself onto a stool. Alar sat down next to her. Skaal rose from where she’d been gnawing on an ox bone a few yards away and padded over to him, nudging him with her nose.
Smiling, Alar ruffled her ears.
Cailean muttered something under his breath.
“You have reconciled then?” Bree’s voice held a note of quiet resignation.
Lara took the cup of hot broth Eithne passed her. “We have.”
“I knew this would happen,” Roth sighed.
