ROMANCE: BIKER ROMANCE: Werewolf Rider (MC Shifter Pregnancy Romance) (New Adult Paranormal Romance Short Stories) (62 page)

              Now, as they passed drinks around the fire, Eamon stood to raise what might become a final toast.

              “It’s been some time since any of us have seen real battle. Skirmishes certainly,” he tipped his glass to a certain group in the corner who whooped loudly. “But tomorrow could cost us blood, and lives. Let’s make sure we’ve made them worthwhile, eh?”

              He let out a howl that echoed loudly through the chamber. It was taken up by the rest of the pack, ringing in all different tones as the voices melted into one. Catriona could feel it shake through her bones, stirring up something primeval in her soul. A part of her that longed to howl and dance like an animal too. Somewhere in the room, someone took up a drum while someone else took up the penny whistle. Soon the room was moving with more than just air, but with bodies. The clan did dance - celebrating, and preparing their souls for what may come. The energy grew and grew until men and women were embracing, shedding clothes, taking to the furs in heady delight. Catriona’s eyes dazzled in the light, sweat trickled down her neck as she swayed to the drums, in Conall’s arms. She gave way to the passion of the room, kissing Conall deeply, clinging to him in an almost desperate hunger. There was no longer anything outside of this moment. Tomorrow didn’t exist - there was only now, and them, and the clan, and the life they would create for those that may be lost.

              Dizzy with energy, Catriona and Conall tumbled together to the floor, fumbling for what they could remove - joining those already in ecstasy. The fire burned brightly, even behind her eyelids. Catriona felt as if she could almost see Conall’s specter with her eyes closed, his gold aura shining before her as they made love once more. The beat of the drums pulsated through her body, their bodies, pulling them ever closer. Conall’s hands explored her skin as she lay on top of him and she groaned with pleasure as he slipped his fingers into her, massaging her lips as they grew wet. Catriona bit into Conall’s neck, running her tongue against him. He took this as encouragement and bent his fingers, making Catriona gasp. She wouldn’t allow him to finish her there, however - she wanted to be together, in every sense of the word. She kissed him, and whispered this to Conall. He ran his fingers along her one more time, sending shivers through Catriona’s body, then let himself slide into her as Catriona pushed him in deep. The room was alive with pleasure, with voices cooing and moaning and gasping, all to one purpose. Catriona sat up, arching her back into Conall’s movements. With one hand on her hip, Conall held her steady, while he reached with his other hand to grasp her breast. Briefly, Catriona opened her eyes, gazing up at the ceiling - the embers of the fire swirled above them like stars, caught up in the trails of the smoke, and the collective breath of the pack as they all seemed to breathe as one.

              Catriona inhaled sharply, her vision going hazy as she climaxed. It grew deep within her, spreading from her legs, into a swarming heat that traveled up her stomach and through her chest. She let out a cry - one she was almost surprised to hear from her own mouth. Beneath her, Catriona heard Conall exclaim as well, his grip tightening on her as his body trembled with the force of it. The both of them gasped, breathing deeply as if all the air had been drawn from them.

              It was a moment before Catriona came back to her senses, now lying next to Conall on the floor. He ran a hand down her cheek, gently, his eyes warm and wavering. He moved in closer, leaving small kisses on Catriona’s cheeks, her lips, her eyelids.

              “You must promise to be careful tomorrow morning,” Conall spoke softly.

              Catriona smirked, “I ought to be telling you that, shouldn’t I?”

              “I’m not the one carrying a new life within me,” Conall placed a hand on Catriona’s stomach. Catriona’s eyes widened, putting her own hand atop his.

              “Good lord, you wolves are potent,” she said before thinking.

              Conall blinked in shock at the comment, clearly expecting a different sort of reaction. Then the two of them broke into laughter, unable to contain themselves. Catriona took Conall’s face in her hands and kissed him — eagerly, happily, savoring the moment for all it was worth.

              Morning came slowly, allowing the night to step away at its own pace, along with the mist that blanketed the ground. Catriona stood alone near the base of the mountains - not far from the path that she and Conall had traveled on their first journey. She waited, wrapped in a heavy cloak that hung draped from her shoulders. The blood rose to her cheeks against the cold, contrasting sharply against her pale skin as she watched Hector and his men approach. He advanced with a large army of men and horses - they had seen her from some distance away, and deemed it safe to approach for a parley of sorts. Catriona watched with steely eyes as Hector drew his horse before her and looked down from the saddle.

              “My darling wife,” he said without affection, “I thought you dead - having been taken captive by these ruthless men.”

              It was clear that was the fate he wished for her - perhaps that was the excuse he had been using amongst his friends at court. Catriona wondered why he bothered to put on this show now. Hector tossed Catriona’s knife to the ground with distain. Her heart fluttered for a moment, having forgotten the small weapon long ago. Hector knew the truth, how could he not? If the day proved fatal for the Shifters, the look in Hector’s eyes made it plain that it would be her last as well. Only a short time ago, this would have made Catriona tremble, would have sent a chill through her bones. But now, she lifted her chin and returned his stare.

              “We’re offering you a chance to surrender, before there is any needless bloodshed.” She told him calmly.

              As expected, Hector laughed, throwing back his head - his men joined in, as always, and the army rippled with their amusement before Hector waved a hand for silence.

              “Their own, I’m sure. My Lady -.”

              Catriona’s skin rankled as the words passed Hector’s lips. She was no longer his.

              “Step aside, or die like an animal along your new friends.” He drew his sword, signaling to his men who too readied their weapons.

              “They are not the animals, Hector,” Catriona said - and then all hell broke loose. The wolves burst from the mountains, Conall and his people. They charged the field in their shifted forms, howling and snarling, without warning. Half of Hector’s men fled immediately at the sight, scrambling to turn their terrified horses as dozens of the huge beasts streamed towards them, teeth bared. Those who remained to fight stood little chance. Catriona watched, transfixed, as men were dragged from their saddles - fangs sunk into their legs - or toppled to the ground as wolves heaved their entire bodies against the horses. Where silence hung only moment ago, now the clamor of battle rang. For a moment, it seemed victory would be an easy thing - but as soon one of the men managed to land a blow, he took courage in the sight of the creature’s blood. He cried out, to rally the men, and they returned with renewed vigor to their fight. The wolves flagged, only slightly but enough to allow Hector’s men a better footing on the battleground. Still Catriona did not - could not -  move, gazing from the sidelines as men and wolves alike began to soak the grass with the red stains of their blood. Her eyes searched the melee for Conall, for his dark fur and a flash of his amber eyes, but there was no discerning wolf from wolf in this confusion. A wretched yowl pierced the air and Catriona saw one of her comrades fall to the ground, the animal form shed as he lie in the dirt. Arran - the young man Catriona had met upon her arrival. A wound on his side bled freely as he tried to scramble back to his feet - but the soldier before him was already raising his sword again.

              Without thinking, Catriona grabbed her discarded knife from the ground and ran into the fight. She had no idea what she was going to do, she could only move forward. Throwing herself at the man, Catriona managed to leap on to the man’s back. He exclaimed in anger and confusion as he tumbled to the ground. Arran watched with shocked amazement as Catriona dug the knife into the enemy’s arm - it wasn’t sharp enough to do much damage at this point, but it was enough to keep him from picking up his sword. The man howled in pain. Catriona pulled out the knife and gazed in disbelief at her work, but there was little time to pause. Suddenly Arran had his arm around her and was pulling her away, staggering as they both ducked for cover and made it out of harm’s way.

              They collapsed on the grass, far enough from the fight. Arran panted. “Conall would never forgive me if I let you stay out there,” he said with a strained laugh.

              Catriona removed her cloak, all she had at hand, and began to dress Arran’s wound. She looked back at the field distractedly, her terror growing - how many more would be hurt, or be killed before Hector would retreat? As if he could hear her thought echoed across the field, Hector appeared before them, his sword dripping. He spotted Catriona, and a flame seemed to burst in his eyes; he hefted his weapon in his hands and began to charge the woman and the injured man. Catriona took hold of Arran and turned her face away, closing her eyes tightly. But a vicious growl was heard, and Catriona turned her head again to see Conall - at last - crashing into Hector with great force. Conall pinned the Lord to the ground; the body of a man was nothing when weighed down beneath the huge body of a wolf. Conall sunk his teeth into Hector’s arm, forcing him to release his sword. Hector cried out in agony, clawing at the great wolf with his other hand, but it did little. Conall then brought his face close to Hector’s, baring his teeth so that the saliva dripped from them onto Hector’s clothes. The wolf’s hackles stood on end, his ears back, nose wrinkled and drawn. Hector gazed up at the creature before him in terror - trapped.

              “Hector!” Catriona called to him, her own voice turned into a growl.

              He looked to his former wife helplessly.

              She offered no help, only this; “Leave this place - leave Scotland or you will die here.” To back up her statement, Conall snapped his teeth, causing Hector to yelp in fear. The words barely made it from his throat - but he swore, swore to retreat, to remove his men and return to England without word of what had happened there that day. It was that or have his head torn from his body - and Catriona knew how fond he was of keeping it there.

              The battle had not been without its losses. The bodies of the fallen were gathered, and Catriona’s heart stung as she saw Lenox’s face among them. Conall reassured her that the man would have been happy with such a death, but the words would take time to truly sooth her. She leaned into Conall and let him hold her tight. They had driven Hector’s men away at last. Catriona thought grimly that more armies could come. Word may still spread of their presence in the mountains, if not the story of their supernatural secret. But as she thought of the child that would soon grow within her, Catriona could only look to the future with hope and happiness.

              That night beneath the stars, they held another celebration. More somber but still with spirit. The clan made a bonfire for their lost ones, honored them with story and song - and most importantly with drink. Catriona sat with Conall, a sweet sadness in her chest as she watched the people who had so quickly become her new family say farewell to Lenox and the others. Conall placed his hand on hers and Catriona looked to him.

              He brushed a few strands of hair from her face and tucked them behind her ear. “You know, I do have to thank Hector for something.”

              Catriona balked. “What on earth could you possibly have to thank him for?”

              “You.” Conall smiled. “Had I not ended up being captured - like a fool, I must say,” he chuckled, “we never would have had the chance to meet.”

              Catriona blushed despite herself. “That
is
true. I have to congratulate you on being such an incompetent little rebel.” She needed him, poking her fingers into his ribs.

              Conall laughed and grabbed Catriona, keeping her from any further attacks. Catriona squirmed with delight, giggling. “Unhand me!”

              “No, I’m afraid you’ve wounded my pride while I was trying to be romantic,” Conall teased, holding his grip.

              Catriona kicked her legs, managing to push them both over onto the ground. With a bit of effort she pushed herself closer to Conall’s face. He looked up at her coyly.

              “Well, if you shan’t let me go, I shall simply have to overpower you,” she said with a smirk.

              Conall was going to reply with another clever quip, but before he could do so, Catriona kissed him. He breathed another laugh and released his hold on her. Catriona pulled her head up.

              “Oh, you give up so easily!” She exclaimed. But Conall shushed her and pulled her back to his lips with a smile. They kissed tenderly, not with the excitement of the night before but with the contentment of knowing they were safe, and in each other’s arms.

              The fire burned brightly, warming the two lovers, and the rest of the pack. That day marked a new life for them all - Catriona had found her new home, and the clan had at last laid claim to one of their own. Who knew if the future would bring more enemies, more fights to be fought - but they knew where they stood, and the clan would never let another army drive them away.