The Wolf and the Druidess (5 page)

“Over there.” Seren pointed to a timber hut, crested with a generous dome of straw. Holding her, he hurried toward it and once there, he yanked the bull-hide door flap aside.

Inside, he laid her down on the pallet. His fingers fluttered to her white cowl and he slid it down the back of her neck. Peering into his eyes, she found they seemed to be azure one moment and lapis the next. Light and dark.

“God Gwydion, as a druidess, I have a question for you. I wonder, of your two sons; Lugh is a god of light, a sun god, the other, Dylan, is a dark god, as he lives in the depths of the ocean, so light or dark, which are you?”

“You know the answer. As a druid god, I am both, light and dark. I keep the balance. I am the balance.”

Sitting on the pile of furs, she focused on his full lips, hungering for another taste. Seren’s skin tingled as his fingers brushed against her neck and chin as he slipped the gold-speckled robe off her shoulders, it slid down her back and pooled onto the bed. Seren tossed it on the floor. Grabbing the hem of her long tunic, she hoisted it over her head and threw it on the pile of clothes while she watched Gwydion flutter his fingers and his garments disappeared.

“Why did you not let me tear them off you?” she quipped.

“I want you now. I cannot waste time fumbling with mortal clothing.”

A soft giggle spilled from her. Gwydion climbed onto the pallet, nude, and positioned himself so her hips squeezed between his knees. Seren slid her arms around his shoulders and ran her fingers down the smooth plane of his back. He groaned.

As he glided his hands over the sensitive flesh of her breasts, kneading and shaping, his touch felt so smooth and hot against her skin, her nipples tightened. His wet mouth covered hers. Grazing the softness of her mouth with his tongue, he slipped it between her parted lips. Blasts of heat surged through her, as he thrust his tongue in and out of her mouth and she dug her fingers into the smooth flesh of his back. The moist, empty sheath between her legs throbbed, aching to be filled as a shortness of breath hit her.

Panting, she slid her palms from his back to the firm muscles rippling down his arms. Seren mewled as Gwydion lowered his mouth to her breast, whisked her tingling peak with his tongue, caught it between his teeth and gently tugged, then pinched the other nipple.

On fire, Seren couldn’t breathe. Thrusting her breasts forward, she let out soft mewls of delight like a purring cat as he squeezed, stroked and suckled her flesh.

By arching her hips his swollen erection shifted and pressed hard against her lower belly, jolting every fiber of her being. He moved his mouth down her body, licking and kissing, then swirled his tongue around the circle of her belly button. A hot shiver shot through her as his tongue slid between her thighs.

“You are so wet,” Gwydion rasped.

His fingers felt like firebrands, as he spread the folds and stroked the spot that ached to be filled. Seren saw by his intense expression, the pressure in him had built to near agony. He needed release as much as she.

The hot point of his eminent length squeezed into her. She winced. She arched forward, raising her knees. She wrapped her legs around his back and braced for his long, thick erection. Though open and ready, she stretched further as he thrust. Gwydion nudged deeper into her. She gasped as he impaled her. Seren molded to him and melted like burning wax. His shallow panting fell into the same rhythm as hers. He drew his cock back until he was almost out of her, and then thrust deep into her core. Seren’s breasts tingled from rubbing against his warm chest while he pumped her. She moved with his body, meeting each thrust. Entangled like a Celtic knot, their bodies rocked. Seren whimpered between ragged gasps as Gwydion pumped his large cock into her throbbing passage. Groaning low and deep, he pounded into her. Seren gripped his lower back with her legs, pulling him higher and deeper. She shrieked as her fiery center clinched around his shaft. They’d just begun and she was ready to burst. Shivers shot up her spine. Trembling, she plunged over the crest. Waves of pleasure filled her with liquid heat. The musky scent of his arousal flooded her nostrils.

A tormented expression of sweet agony crossed his face as he trembled in release. As she sucked in quick breaths, a ragged groan tore through her lips. Panting, she quaked beneath him, still impaled on his shaft.

After a long time, he pulled out and swung over to lie at her side. “You’re a rare jewel, Seren,” he rasped.

“I want to stay here, to sleep with you and make love to you when we wake in the morning.” Hoping he would stay ‘till dawn and beyond, she closed her eyes and drifted off into a dream of she and Gwydion entangled in love play, again and again, and long after Samhain.

Chapter Five

Gwydion opened his eyes to find dawn light streaming in through the doorway of the roundhouse. Seren lay nude next to him. Women, even goddesses, always sought him out, but no one had ever brought his blood to boiling as fast as Seren. Watching her from afar, scrying her, he’d planned a time and place they could meet and shape-shifted into a wolf for her. Last night after she’d drifted to sleep, his mind had spun, wondering what she thought of him until he fell asleep, snuggled against her.

With a tilt of his head, he kissed her lips as gentle as a whisper. He watched her squirm. Her long lashes fluttered, her eyes opened.

“Good morn, druidess.”

“Gwydion.” She reached out and wrapped her arms around him. When she released the embrace, her brows furrowed. “I have to dress, there is so much to do. If you are staying, you can come with me to help. Since the leaves have fallen, it’s time to chop down ash trees for wood to craft spears and chariots.”

Always so busy as a druidess, he’d noticed every time he scried her image in the salmon pond. That was why he’d hesitated in telling, her he wanted to stay past Samhain, sure her first response would be, she didn’t have time to spend with him beyond the festival. So he would share today with her and speak to her of staying later.

“I’ll come, my druid wands are fashioned from ash. But first.” Leaning down, he pressed his lips to hers in a slow, drugging kiss.

When their lips parted, Seren swung her feet onto the floor. “I so want to stay abed with you, but there is too much to do.” She stood up and gathered her clothing.

With a flutter of his hands across his bare body, Gwydion dressed magically.

“I also must check on the two breeding sows we kept from slaughter. Then get salt licks for a stag hunt, so we can feast on fresh venison this final day of Samhain.” Seren pulled on her last piece of clothing, the druid robe.

“The sow and the stag are animals I’ve shifted into like the wolf, so I can help.” Stooping down, he passed through the narrow doorway. Silently, he vowed he wouldn’t let her out of his sight. The more time he spent with Seren, the easier it would be to persuade her to offer her hospitality and much more for even longer.

* * * *

Seren led Gwydion to the chief’s roundhouse where the nine warriors waited, each clutching an axe in their hands.

Gwydion raised his arm in greeting. “Hail, I have come to honor the sacrifice of the ash trees.”

The warriors all nodded at him in response.

Following the dirt path to the forest on the hill, they entered the woods.

Walking under the canopy of thick leaves, Hywell tilted his head toward Seren and asked, “Is Gwydion your patron god?”

Keeping up with the others at a steady pace she nodded her white-hooded head at him. “Yes, he is the patron god of all druids is he not?”

A lark sang out from a high branch as the little group passed beneath it.

“Yes, this I know, but I did not fathom you so powerful you could summon him to appear in human form,” Hywell said.

“I will come any time she calls, I assure you, in wolf or human form.” Gwydion flashed a predatory smile.

“It is the trees, not I, we must think of now.” Seren pointed to an ash looking a bit scraggly without its bright green leaves. “There is one.”

“Here are three others.” Gwydion gestured toward tall, thin trees with long branches reaching for the sky.

“This will be enough wood for our chariots,” Meilyr said.

“Sturdy Ash, as you give to us we give to you,” Gwydion chanted, inclining his head toward the warriors. “Hand me a skin of water.” Taking one from Hywell, the god poured the clear well water onto the roots. “The tribe needs your strong wood for its chariots. We honor the sacrifice you make to give us this great gift. The charioteers will drive them bravely and only the finest ponies will pull them in battle to honor your memory.”

After Meilyr handed him a small pouch, Gwydion picked a fallen leaf off the ground and shook the herbal blend from the pouch onto it. As he held the leaf, Meilyr struck his flint and lit the spark to the blend of incense. The heady scents of mugwort, betony, woodruff, wormwood and wild dagga clung to the air, like the scent at the bottom of a log embedded in a forest floor for ages.

Gwydion held his hand out to the tree, focusing his mind on its essence. “In wisdom and love, we accept your sacrifice. We are honored by your bravery and dedication in befriending us.” Having the tree’s permission, he rose and watched reverently as Gwydderig swung his axe into the trunk.

Seren bowed her cowl-covered head. “Farewell, sacred ash.”

Gwydion moved to the next tree and performed the same ritual. Gwydderig was still chopping the first tree when Hywell swung his axe into the second. With Gwydion at her side, Seren moved to the third tree and performed the rite for it. Meilyr flung the blade of his axe into its trunk. Though the happiest moment of any life is when they give themselves in sacrifice, a heavy sadness came over Seren as she watched the first ash tree fall.

She whispered in Gwydion’s ear. “Let’s go.”

Taking her hand in his, he led her away.

Gwydderig called out, “Where are you two headed?”

“To check on the sows,” Seren said.

They passed the thick growth of trees and shrubs until they were back on the narrow path to the hillfort.

Feeling a sense of loss, her voice broke as she said, “Trees are silent guards, they are the listeners and they hold knowledge mankind has long forgotten.”

Gwydion came to a stop and still grasping her hand, he pulled her to him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders to comfort her. “As a druidess, you must always protect the trees, but you do not have the right to rob them of sacrifice. The chariots made from the ash will be strong for the trees are strong, it will be resilient for the ash is resilient, and they will enhance the skills of the Ordovices warriors, for the tree is wise.”

“It is true.” Seren felt like a light, warm breeze flow into her at his soothing words.

“Were you saddened by the slaughter of the pigs yesterday? “ Gwydion asked in a soft, comforting voice.

“No. Mayhap because it is food and it seems more necessary than wands and chariots.”

“But it is not, all make up the cycle, all are important and everyone and everything’s sacrifice for the tribe is necessary.” Gwydion’s deep blue eyes mellowed and his mouth eased into a smile.

With his arm wrapped around her shoulder, she walked at his side past round huts and entered the center of the village. They stepped up to the pigpen of hazel wands and withies woven between stakes. Gwydion pulled the small gate of the pen open and leaned down to the large sow, making sure she was well. Her belly was large and she would give birth soon. Seren could not take her eyes off Gwydion as he ran his masculine hands along the pig’s smooth skin. A fire leapt inside her. There was something oddly sensuous about the sight of him so concerned and caring to the pregnant sow.

Heat rose on her skin, as if standing next to a bonfire. Her flesh itched for his touch. Before she knew it, she grabbed him. He wrapped his warm arms around her and she leaned toward him. Their lips met in a slow, drugging kiss. She slid her palms up and down his broad back.

A searing need built in Seren and she whispered, “We have time before the stag hunt.”

“Let’s go,” Gwydion rasped.

With their arms around each other, they rushed off to her roundhouse.

Seren ducked and darted inside. Gwydion followed, grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her arms. He danced his thick fingers down the sides of her tunic and grabbing the hem, hoisted it up, pulled it off her and tossed it the floor. He waved his hands and once more his clothes disappeared. She felt the heat of his gaze upon her breasts and nipples. She roamed her eyes over his nude body, the virile bronze chest with small blond whorls, the hard slab of his stomach, the narrow hips and tight buttocks. But it was the hard, prominent swell of flesh between his lean, muscular legs which drew her full attention.

A deep moan escaped her lips at the heat of his palms pressing against her breasts. Seren burned as he squeezed the tender mounds of flesh and pinched the swollen peaks. His hot lips swooped down and kissed her nipple. She flamed as his tongue whisked and his teeth nudged the sensitive, swollen peaks while his palms molded and shaped her breasts.

“Lay down on your back,” Gwydion said in a husky tone.

The swollen bud between her legs pulsated with need as she dropped to the ground and spread her legs.

He kneeled over her, fully bare. “Seren, squeeze my cock with your soft breasts.”

She watched as he rubbed the fiery tip of his erection over her nipples. He nestled his thick erection between her breasts and slid it back and forth. Her body tingled as she felt the moisture spill from the head of his hard staff.

“Open your mouth.” Gwydion slipped his virile flesh between her lips.

Sliding her mouth up and down his cock, she milked him until he withdrew his aroused flesh. Seren swallowed as her heart pounded.

He rested his warm palms on her thighs and spread her legs until they were shoulder-width apart.

Seren felt his honey-warm fingertips fondle the folds, as he pushed his long finger into her.

“You’re so tight.”

She watched his hand move between her legs, working her into a fervor.