Donal grunted, disapproving. "And wulvers're the demons?"
"Aye." Kirstin glanced up at him, but he was looking down into the water. It was a deep spring, fresh water, crystal clear. He didn't seem to mind how close they were, so Kirstin fit her head against his shoulder. "Men's history is so oft different from a woman's, ye ken?"
"Aye, lass." He nodded. "But what'd Lilith hafta do wit' t'first wulver?"
"Likely naught." She snorted a little laugh. "Seems the masculine view of the feminine has twisted all women into demons these days. Mythology becomes history becomes reality. But the older legends... they ring truer to me. Me mother told me this, and her mother a'fore her. 'Tis the story of Ardis and Asher."
"Who were they?" Donal's hand moved from the stone to her hip. Kirstin didn't shy from his touch. Instead, she snuggled closer. Her heart was racing as fast as if she was on a hunt.
"Ardis was a wolf who could change into a woman, but only durin' t'full moon. She fell in love with a huntsman named Asher, who saved her from a trap near the spring."
"Hmm." Donal mused. His fingers traced lightly up her arm toward her shoulder. "Why does this sound familiar?"
Kirstin smiled at that. He had saved her from a trap, just like Asher had saved Ardis. The similarities didn't end there, though. She looked up to see his gaze on her now. His eyes were clear blue today, no clouds, his brow smooth. A smile hovered on his lips, which were full and slightly parted and she had an incredible urge to press hers there.
"He took one look into her eyes and knew she was meant to be his," she whispered, feeling his hand moving over her shoulder.
"Mm hmm..." He nodded, as if he understood this, too.
"And Ardis took one look at him..." She bit her lip, knowing this was her confession, not just the story of Ardis and her found one. "And knew he was her true mate."
"Her true mate?"
She nodded. "Wulvers only have one, their whole lives."
"Good." His meaning was clear and she felt her body tremble slightly as his hand moved through her hair.
"They would meet at night at the spring to make love in the moonlight e'ery full moon," she said, swallowing as she felt his fingertips brush the back of her neck, the tiny hairs there already raised and sensitive. "Me mother told me that the moonspring shone a silver light for them so they could see each other, but no one else could see them or their secret meetin' place."
"And this is where the silvermoon grows," he said. "I've ne'er seen it anywhere else."
"It only grows at a wulver spring," she replied. "They say it's because Asher wept into their secret spring when Ardis was murdered by the witch, Morag."
"Ardis was murdered?" Donal blinked at that, but his fingers didn't stop moving, stroking, petting her.
"Aye, but their child was t'first wulver," she told him. It wasn't easy to continue with the story, considering how distracted she was by his body-and her own. "A lil boy with red hair and red eyes. He's our first descendent. Asher raised 'im alone but they say Asher visited the spring e'ery full moon, and wept fer 'is lost love."
She was glad the story was over, because she couldn't possibly think anymore. Something inside her was growing, taking control. It felt a little like the tension she experienced just before she changed from human to wulver form. Except this was more intense. Every nerve ending felt alive, her senses keen. The smell of the man beside her, even to her human nose, was intoxicating. She wanted to devour him.
"'Tis a sad story." Donal's whole hand, not just his fingers this time, slipped behind her head, cradling it against his shoulder.
"Aye," she whispered, but she wasn't thinking about the story, or Asher and his lost Ardis, even if the feelings coursing through her were so similar, bred into her, generations of matings just like the first.
"I ken Asher's tears," Donal said softly, the briefest of creases appearing on his brow. "You can'na find fault wit' a man who weeps when all he loves is taken from 'im."
"'Tis always a risk t'love."
Oh, what a risk it was. Kirstin had heard it said her whole life, had listened to wulver women lament their inescapable love for their mate, had seen Sibyl's pain at the thought of losing Raife, and still, she had never fully understood, not until this moment.
To love this man would mean risking losing him. And that would mean losing everything.
"Aye, 'tis a risk." Donal nodded slowly, "But when a man finds what he wants more than anything; else, there's nothin' can quiet the fire inside him."
Kirstin saw that fire in his eyes, felt it in her own loins, in the heat of his body as he leaned in toward her, so close she was dizzy with him.
"Not e'en the spring water of Asher and Ardis," he murmured, before pressing his lips to hers.
His kiss was everything she had dreamed it would be.
Her mouth opened under his, letting him guide her head, slanting his so he could press his tongue deeper, probing the soft recesses of her mouth. She let out a soft moan when his hand moved to the small of her back and he pressed himself fully to her, the hard, ridged planes of his torso against the yielding softness of her breasts.
Her body responded instantly to his touch, as if a fire had been lit inside of her. Kirstin wasn't inexperienced-her kind didn't have any qualms about doing what came naturally. But the act, to her, had always been one of comfort and warmth, nothing more than a closeness that felt, well, pleasant. And that was all. The male wulvers she'd been with-just two, in her pack, who she had a particular affection for-had seemed to enjoy it far more than she ever had.
"Kirstin, yer so beautiful," Donal whispered as they parted, his gaze moving from her eyes down to her mouth, as if he wanted to capture it again. "So vera sweet. I'm afeared we should'na be 'ere, doin' this... but I can'na help meself when I'm 'round ye."
"Aye." She touched his cheek, feeling a day's stubble there, the roughness of it thrilling her. "I feel the same."
"I've been dreamin' of kissing ye since I met ye in the woods yesterday." He slowly traced the outline of her lips with one finger. "I'm surprised I held meself back this long."
"Is that all ye wanna do?" The disappointment in her voice was obvious, maybe too obvious. "Jus' kiss me?"
"Nuh." He chuckled, moving his hand down to her shoulder, running one finger over her collarbone, spreading gooseflesh over her skin. "But I'm afeared I can'na do everything I want. Not unless ye wanna come wit' me now to the vicar t'say yer vows. And I thought, mayhaps, you'd like a lil longer courtship than one day."
"Why?" Kirstin shook her head, smiling, bemused. "I'm a wulver, Donal. I know me own nature better than most men e'er will. I know who ye're t'me. I knew it the moment we met."
His eyebrows went up, a smile playing on those full, oh-so-kissable lips. "Who'm I?"
"Yer Donal MacFalon," she said simply, as if it explained everything. And to her, it did. He had eclipsed everyone and everything until she could see naught else. "Yer the man I've been waitin' a lifetime fer. Yer me one true mate."
"Aye," he breathed, kissing her again, this time with a soft assurance that spread through her like warmed honey, filling all the cracks and crevices in her soul. It was like coming home, like breathing after coming up from being underwater, lungs bursting, and finally breathing the air your body craved.
"I've ne'er experienced anythin' like this a'fore," he confessed, kissing the corner of her mouth, then licking it. "I do'na understand it."
"Ye do'na need t'understand it," she murmured, tilting her head back for the press of his lips on her long, slender throat. "Ye jus' need t'feel it."
"I feel as if I'm fallin' in a dream, and I'm afeared to wake up. Kirstin, I want ye," he growled into the hollow of her throat, his teeth raking her flesh, sending needlepoint pricks of sensation all the way to her fingertips. "I need ye."
"I'm yers," she admitted fully, to him and to herself. She didn't care if he was a man and she was a wulver, if it was unconventional, or even impossible. Laina had said it would come like a lightning strike, that you couldn't mistake the feeling for naught else, and she had been correct, even if Kirstin hadn't really believed it. Until now. "I've been yers since the day I was born."
"Och, lass, the things I wanna do t'ye..." he groaned, wrapping his arms around her, encircling her completely so she was lost in them.