“We do not.” Mathison snorted. She should be clad in fine gowns that accentuated her beauty with the modesty befitting a chieftain’s wife. Her shapeliness and true form should be reserved for his eyes alone. He took a step back at that thought. How could he possibly think of her in such a manner? It was too soon. Mairwen had said this period was for them both to learn more about one another. Fated mate bond or not, this match could still go very wrong.
“She left the door open for us to go inside,” Dubh said. “Ye can argue with yerself later. Are we going in or not?”
“We shall enter, but remain vigilant.” Mathison eased forward, shaking the dampness from his thick coat before they stepped inside. By all the gods and goddesses, her intoxicating scent filled the room, enhanced by the fire in the small free-standing woodstove in the corner. She smelled of the richest vanilla and all the comforting aromas that brought forth images of belonging and never being lonely again. She smelled like a woman he needed in his arms. Forever. He licked his chops again and plopped down just a few steps into the room. “We shall sit by the door in case her beastie breaks free, and we need to run to keep from harming him.”
“It wouldn’t do to hurt her beastie.”
“No. It would not.”
She emerged from a room on the other side of the space and softly closed the door behind her. Whining and grumbling behind the door she had just shut made it clear her ally was not pleased with this latest development. She smiled and went to her knees when she saw him. “I’m so glad you came inside.”
“Dinna think to her,” Mathison warned. “She will hear us.”
“I know that.” His wolf snorted in disgust. “I am not the one who forgets such things.”
“Fair point.”
She inched closer with her hand extended. “Can I pet you?”
As if neither he nor his wolf controlled their actions, Mathison went to her and nudged his head up into her hand. A powerful sensation surged through him like a spark igniting a fire.
She felt it too because she drew back and stared at her hand as if it had betrayed her.
His wolf whined and took them down to a submissive position, belly crawling closer.
“Must be static electricity,” she said, but her smile was strained. The brave, friendly Calia was visibly shaken. Gingerly, she touched his head again, triggering the same surge of energy that sent a ripple of completeness through him. Old Mairwen and her Weavers had chosen wisely. This woman was the one meant to break the curse.
“What is it about you?” she whispered as she gently ruffled her fingers through his fur and scratched his ears. She barely shook her head. “It has to be the exhaustion making me crazy. Things will be clearer in the morning.” Her smile became more self-assured as she rose to her feet. “How about some food, and then I’ll spread a blanket out for you? You can spend the night inside since it’s raining.”
“I dinna smell any bones or meat,” his wolf said. “What does she mean to feed us?”
“I dinna ken, but whatever it is, we are going to be polite and eat it.”
She returned with a bowl filled with round bits of brown chunks that looked like something that had been left in the sun to dry. “Here you go. Otto loves this.”
“It looks like mud or dried horse shite.”
“We are going to try it. It canna be all that bad.”
Mathison gave the food a hesitant sniff and sneezed.
“Aye, that should impress her.”
“Shut it.”
“Oh my, did it get up your nose?” Calia laughed and pulled up a cushioned stool to sit on. “I know it’s different, but it’s freeze-dried and full of all the good things. Give it a try.”
His wolf sighed. Loudly.
Holding his breath so as to taste the food even less, Mathison took a bite, crunched the mouthful of brown bits, and swallowed.
“That tasted like shite.”
“Since when do ye eat shite?”
“Ye know what I’m telling ye.”
Mathison agreed, but it seemed to please Calia, so he wolfed down another mouthful and then another until the bowl was nearly empty.
