Children of the Moon 04 - Dragon's Moon

it, but this outcome had been inevitable from the initial brush of his lips against hers.
    She did not complain about the pain because already pleasure fought for supremacy in her body. He continued to press steadily forward, his face showing the strain of the slow penetration.
    She reached up and cupped his cheek. “We are joined.”
    He turned into the touch and once again her wolf purred.
    “We are one,” he replied in ancient Chrechte.
    She gasped, his words going through her with the power of a winter storm’s thunder. He reached beyond her and only when he shifted again could she see why. He’d grabbed her dirk.
    The sharp blade shined in the moonlight. “We spill blood to consecrate our union.” Again he spoke in the language of their people.
    His words the only warning she got before he sliced the palm of his hand and then waited for her to offer her hand. It was a rite so ancient, few Faol even knew about it.
    Her mother had told her once though, in her mad ramblings after Ciara’s father’s death. Her mother had described the bonding of their souls in this rite. She’d been insensible with grief but had claimed it was worth all the pain that came after.
    Ciara looked at the blood dripping down Eirik’s hand onto his wrist and knew he meant their mating to be as sacred and true as possible for the Chrechte. She did notknow if it was an Éan thing, or because he was a prince, but his expectation was clear.
    She would shed more than the blood of her maidenhead this night.
    He did not rush her but remained still above her, his hardness filling her feminine core, his body covering hers in possession and protection.
    The time for trying to hold back had passed. With solemnity she had only experienced when spreading her family’s ashes, Ciara lifted her hand, palm up. Eirik did not smile, but his approval glowed in his amber gaze.
    He cut a tiny prick on her palm, not even one tenth as long as the cut he had made on his own.
    But her blood welled and he pressed their palms together. Their blood mingled, growing unnaturally hot between their palms. The wind swirled around them in a rush of air, leaves and other loose detritus from the forest floor, though nothing but the air touched them. Crimson light flashed and then the white light that accompanied her shift into the wolf.
    She felt like she’d been hit by lightning, her entire body burning. But it did not hurt; it was a pleasure so great, she was not sure she could bear it.
    Eirik’s head was thrown back, his face contorted in ecstasy as she felt his heat spread inside her. Her body convulsed, her womb cramping, her vaginal walls clamping onto his shaft so tightly he could not have moved were he making the effort to do so.
    She felt his dragon, the power, the fire, the strength and the need for her. Then the raven, the keen senses, the joy in flight and the abhorrence in killing at odds with the dragon’s predatory instincts. The raven agreed with the dragon on its need for her though.
    Her wolf reached out to soothe both beasts, sharing her own need to hunt, to run under the moonlight and to mark that which was hers.
    “We are true mates.” She heard the words in his rich, deep timbre in her head, the only sound around them the still rushing wind.
    “I cannot deny it.”
    Though she wanted to, her fear spiking at the knowledge that Ciara was more lost than her mother had ever been. Because in all her descriptions of the mating rite, her mother had never mentioned anything so profound or magical happening.
    The dragon crooned to her, the raven’s soft caw joining to comfort her.
    She stared up into Eirik’s eyes. “Our Chrechte spirits have joined.”
    “Never to be sundered.” Only as he spoke the vow in Chrechte did she realize she’d said the words of confirmation.
    And suddenly, the pleasure between them began to increase again, spiraling upward as he started to move, thrusting in her with controlled power.
    He claimed her then, in an act as old as time.
    When they both reached completion for the second time, she felt a searing heat in her palm. She pulled her hand from his and saw that the small prick had already closed.
    She grabbed his hand and looked, only to find a thin scar instead of an open wound on his palm.
    He smiled, his entire being suffused with male satisfaction. “Our mating has been blessed.”
    “Yes.” She could only hope that meant it would not be cut short.
    “You will sleep now.”
    So lethargic she