The Macconwood Wolf Pack Tales

Chapter 2: Thunder sounded

War, famine, blood feud, and more plague the Wolves of Northern Ireland. With the English tightening the noose, Dark Witches running amok, and the Hounds of God losing their foothold in Britannia, tensions are running high. A marriage to join Packs is the only way forward to foster peace amongst the Werewolves of the Emerald Isle, but for those closely involved, peace may come at too high a price.

Thunder sounded overhead and icy rain poured down from the darkening skies. Eoghan MacContire's blonde hair stuck to his forehead and neck from the vicious onslaught of weather. He tilted his head back and opened his mouth to the frigid yet refreshing water.

He sloshed it around and spit it out on the red-stained, muddy ground. The acrid stench of blood and dark magic was still strong in the air.

His mail was thick with the gory remnants of battle. With any luck, the rain would wash most of it away. Cleansing the Earth, but unfortunately, not his mind.

Eoghan wiped his sword on the bottom of his tunic and placed it back inside it's leather scabbard. He exhaled and pulled off the mail shirt that sat atop his plain, wool leine. The garment was heavy and wet with the blood of his enemies. It would need a good scrubbing.

Eoghan looked around in disgust at the hovel where they'd found the Dark Coven casting their forbidden magic. They chose a secluded part of the forest to practice their rituals. Dead animals hung from the trees that surrounded the enclosure.

He walked from corpse to hanging corpse and noted the shape his path made. The Witches' offerings formed an inverted pentacle. A sure sign of evil.

Most of the beasts were freshly killed, but some were rotten and decayed with their bones clearly visible. Runes were carved into the trunks of those trees from which they hung.

Eoghan did not recognize the markings as Irish or Celtic. Must be Demonspeak, he thought, the tongue of the damned. He crossed himself and continued his walk.

He spat on the ground next to the rotting corpse of the so-called Head Witch of this particular coven. She looked too young to be the mistress and yet she readily claimed the title when they attacked.

His gaze sharpened as he took in the self-mutilation evident on her corpse. She looked as if she'd been dead a fortnight instead of just a few hours. Still, her face was not as heavily lined as the last Head Witch he'd killed. Something was off, but he couldn't put a finger on it.

He kicked the ground and stalked away, mail shirt in hand. The battle was over, and they were victorious, he'd do well to focus on that. His men fought bravely, with speed and accuracy.

The world was a little bit safer this night because of it. He shouldn't worry over the small niggling feeling in the back of his mind that all was not settled.

There were other things that needed his attention. He tossed his heavy mail shirt and sword to one of his men.

"Oi there, Tom Kelly, see to it these are properly cleaned and looked after."

"Aye, I shall, sir."

"My thanks, son," Tom Kelly was a new Wolf, a lad of just sixteen years. He had his first Change only a few months ago, but his calling to the Hounds of God came immediately upon that Change. He was a loyal lad.

It was an honor to assign him such a detail as taking care of Eoghan's chain mail. ‘Twas a valuable possession. He received it as tribute from a Scotsman. He was a mercenary Werewolf who hired himself out to the Gallowglass.

They'd fought a battle together and Eoghan saved the man's life. He in turn made him a gift of the mail shirt. It served him well every battle since then. This day was no exception.

He'd had a close call with a particularly nasty Witch who came at him with a sharpened spear and a crazed look in his black eyes. He was a shadow of a man, possessed by whatever Demon he'd sold his soul to. The Witch flung the weapon with the strength of Beelzebub himself.

His aim was true. It would have killed Eoghan had the tip not stuck in one of the small mail links right over his heart. Eoghan snapped the Witch's neck with his bare hands and only realized after the fact that he'd almost lost his life.

His stomach clenched at the thought. There was still so much he wanted to see and do. A dreadful unease settled over him. It was a nagging b***h of a feeling and he tried to shake it, but nothing worked.

Once all seven Witches' corpses were decapitated and burned, their Demons sent back to hell, Eoghan ordered his men to see to the cleansing of the wood surrounding the area. He normally took part in the healing ritual, but he was too restless. He couldn't focus enough to recite the Latin prayers needed for the ritual.

His head was reeling, he'd almost died. On top of that, the Witches magic had used up the strength of two full fields that were almost ready to harvest, one barley and one wheat. The failing crops alerted the Hounds to the presence of Witches in that area. A thing like that could mean starvation for the people in that area.

Eoghan volunteered for the mission and was glad he was the one who found the parasites before they sucked the land dry. Technically, it was not Greyback Pack territory, but this mission was overseen by the Hounds of God; therefore, he was granted access to the place.

Witches were a scourge on society. He'd see them all burn if he could. Agh, enough! He needed to calm his blood. He stilled himself and took a deep breath. The full moon was days away, but his Wolf already looked out of his eyes. He thanked God for it.

One of the worst things about being a Werewolf was missing that other intricate part of yerself in the long stretch of days between moons. He had to wait only a while longer and he'd be able to run as his Wolf. Only then would he be free as he never could be as a man.

As the first son of the Alpha, Eoghan was bound by his duties to his Pack because of his position. He didn't want to think about any of that now. He shook his wet head and stripped off the thick wool inar that sheltered him from the elements.

He tossed it to the same Kelly lad who held his mail and sword. He could stay in that place no longer and so he made his way deeper into the woods.

His men would take care of everything. The priests who travelled with them would put to rights the remnants of their battle. He'd have a few hours to himself. Well deserved, as they were, he still thought about going back to help.

‘Twas his place as Lieutenant General in the Hounds' war party to stay with his men, but right then he needed to put some distance between himself and all that death. A moment alone, where he could breathe in something clean and untainted. The foul black-magicked air they'd been inhaling still clogged his lungs.

He walked nigh on five miles from the battle site before slowing down. Perhaps it was far enough. The sound of running made him stop in his tracks. Eoghan stifled a growl and crouched behind a large, moss-covered boulder that sat on the bank of the small stream he'd found amongst the trees.

He strained to listen over the sounds of the running water and the icy rain. The pounding footsteps were nearer now. He peeked out from behind the large rock and found himself gazing at the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen.

His supernaturally enhanced eyesight allowed him to see the maiden clearly. Aye, but she is a glorious sight, he thought as he gazed upon her. The rain was coming down in earnest, but it didn't seem to bother the wood nymph.

She tossed her head back and lifted the hem of her long, plain dress to high enough to reveal long shapely legs. He barely got a look at them before she moved to stand knee deep in the rushing waters of the stream. He turned his body so he would be in a good position to act fast should she fall, but the lass was steady on her feet.

The wind howled around them and the rain dropped down even harder. Despite his Wolf-sharpened vision, Eoghan could barely make out her face. Especially with her head tilted back as it was. But by his oath, her body! That he had no trouble discerning for she wore neither cota nor plaide.

She had a trim waist that flared out to well-rounded hips. Her breasts were high and supple, her n*****s visible through the thin layers of material as the fabric became soaked with rainwater. She laughed aloud, a bright, pleasant sound that created a yearning inside of his gut.

He was mesmerized. He watched her like a starving man gazed longingly at a loaf of bread. She danced in the stream, turning, round and round, in circles with her arms held out wide. Like some wild and untamed thing. By God's eyes, he wanted her then and there for his own.

He wanted more than just to possess her, he wanted to join her in her freedom. To taste the wildness on her lips. She had an unbroken beauty to her. Not bound by the constraints of society's definition of decorum.

It would be a shame to see her caged. He wondered what hell she'd escaped from to see her so joyous amidst a thunderstorm deep in the wood. But she was grand, he'd give her that.

Eoghan never felt such a longing. It was a deeply rooted sensation that made him want to do things he ne'er thought himself capable of. He had to still himself so as not to reach out and pull her to his chest.

Who is she? What mystery brought her now to this place? He licked his lips and studied the maiden as she reveled in the harsh Irish weather. As if she were part of it and the land around her.

Aye, go on then lass, drink it all in. Eoghan had never seen anything to match her in all his life. Not even his stallion, Bryn. At nineteen hands the beast was the largest in the land. Necessary for carrying a man who, as a Werewolf, stood a head taller than most and weighed almost half again the average man, for all the thick ropes of muscle that covered his body.

Right then, Eoghan's only concern was for the feminine body that danced but a short distance away. He focused on the small rivulets of rainwater that ran down her long neck and disappeared between the mounds of flesh visible from the top of her dress.

He felt a stirring in his loins as he watched her womanly curves perfectly outlined in her rain-soaked gown. She was just as a woman should be. That stirring turned to full on lust in a matter of moments as he imagined running his hands over the soft flesh hidden beneath the wet fabric.

Desire was something Eoghan was familiar with, but this time ‘twas different. He never felt such a tightening in the pit of his stomach. His heart raced inside of his chest. What's more, he could see his Wolf in his mind's eye. The great beast was standing at attention as he watched her.

Was it some kind of warning? This sudden intense awareness? He didn't know if he should trust it or not. Maybe she was a fairy and not to be trifled with by the likes of him. A fantastical notion indeed, Eoghan MacContire.

He cursed under his breath. He wasn't used to thinking like a fool. He almost missed it as she leaned down as if to grab something with her long delicate fingers. Her left foot slipped a fraction of a space and Eoghan started towards her before she completely lost her footing on the moss-covered rocks. He leapt forward like a stag and held her safe by her arm till she regained her composure.

"Are you in need of aid, my lady?"

Bright eyes, blue as a morning sky, flashed at him. He didn't know if she was more startled by her near miss or by his sudden presence. She looked like some sort of otherworldly being standing amidst the trees and the stream. The rain and the elements didn't seem to bother her one bit.

She was even better looking the closer he got to her. Soaked to the bone as she was, he couldn't imagine another who could even compare to the lass. Her pale skin was clear with a hint of rose in her cheeks, her big blue eyes were wide and surrounded by thick, dark lashes, and her hair wound down her back in a long braid. He wished he could tell what color it was, but ‘twas far too wet for him to discern.

"Nay, sir, I am in no need of yer aid and I'll thank ye to release my arm," she said. Her voice was clear and strong, indicative of the woman who spoke. Eoghan's gaze roamed over the strangely enticing female from head to toe.

"I'd love to oblige ye, miss, but if I do that, ye'd fall clean over into the stream and I'd have to jump in after ye."

"Can't ye swim, sir?"

"Aye, but I'd much rather take hold of ye from solid ground than in that frigid water."

"I'll not ask ye again, sir, release my arm."

"Yer not very grateful. I say, would yer family be for yer safe return?"

"Wouldst thou be grateful if a great beast of a man first spied on ye then refused to let go of yer person though he was asked twice?"

"Let's out of the water then and I shall release yer arm, lady. Prithee, I cannot have it on my conscience were ye to be upended downstream when I could have prevented such."

"I am not entirely certain yer grasping the fact that I've no wish for a savior!"

"I don't think I'm the only one with very little understanding on things, after all, tis not I who stands ankle deep in a running stream with lightning brewing in the heavens!"

"Prithee, tell me more about good sense when ye wear naught in all this wetness, but a leine! A thin one at that!"

"Doth thou judge me for the size of my purse then?"

"Nay, I've no right to judge ye for yer purse size. My apologies, sir, now my arm, please?"

His mystery maiden averted her eyes, away from his exposed torso, but Eoghan could see her interest. He grinned down at her. He supposed he should have done up his laces, but he liked the heat that he witnessed flashing in her blue eyes when she gazed upon his bare skin.

Indeed, he liked it just as much as her quick retorts. That was unique amongst the women he'd met. A man in his position was required to be seen at certain social functions with society's best and most eligible ladies. He'd had little use for those parties and often did not attend.

The few misses that he did meet were silly waspish things that he had no use for. Aye, give me an honest lass as this, he thought to himself. She stole another look at his exposed skin and Eoghan found his appetite for her increased. He held her elbow when she would have pulled away and was rewarded with the narrowing of her blue eyes.

His heart thudded heavily inside of his chest at that look. The lady was brave as well as beautiful. A mystery for certain. Curiosity burned inside of him like a wildfire. What was she doing out here alone?

"By yer leave, I shall escort ye to yer father's house, tis not safe for a lady-"

"Nay, sir, I shall take my leave alone, after all I got here without ye."

"Alone? Tis getting dark, I would see to yer safety."

"Stay, sir, I shall see to mine own safety."

"What is it you hide from me, lady?" Eoghan inhaled as he tried to get a read on the wild lass in his grip.

Alas, the smell of battle still lingered in his nostrils. He bent his head down to the nape of her neck, but his nose picked up nothing of her. Only a stream of fragrances that masked her real identity. Cloves, rosemary, heather, lavender, and some other exotic oils. A kitchen or laundry maid perhaps?

The combination of scents, blood, metal, spice, rain and wet earth, left him without the use of his Wolf's nose to tell him who or what she was. Still, he knew she was no Witch. Her bright eyes and healthy teeth told him that.

"My lady, I would be glad to be of service to you. If it pleases you to know, my name-"

"Nay, sir, pray do not tell me yer name."

"Why? Don't ye wish to know me?" Eoghan bantered easily with the lass, but inside he was in turmoil.

His every instinct was to take her and possess her as his own. Could this be matebonding, he wondered? The ancient notion of a Wolf finding his mate upon first sight was sung about by minstrels and bards, but he'd never seen it in person.

Lust and longing raced through Eoghan's blood, and something more. A sort of heightened awareness of the lady in front of him, a tightening in his gut. It was a heady and strong feeling though he could not give it a name. The lightness in the atmosphere soon gave way to a dangerous sort of tension.

He leaned in closer, anticipation building up inside of him like steam in a kettle. He was just about ready to burst when she raised a slender hand and placed it gently on his chest. The light brush of her fingers on that part of his body revealed from the open ties of his soaked leine sent lightning shooting all through his body.

His breath came heavier now as his chest tightened in response to her light touch. In his mind's eye, he pictured her supple form moving wildly beneath him as he penetrated her soft velvet core over and over again. He could almost hear her groans and taste her honey on his tongue.

"I'll have an answer, lady."

"I know not how to answer thee, sir, soon I must leave and tis likely I'll not see ye again."

"Aye, but sweet lass, right now, we both are here in the wood, alone, in the rain, and Heaven's love is shining down on us right in this moment."

"It makes me sad, sir, for we have no time, all would be over before it even started."

Her softly spoken words touched him like a warm caress. Eoghan's heart thumped wildly in his chest for it meant she felt the attraction between them as did he. Perhaps there was hope then.

"Nay, my lady, tis not over yet. I shall continue to hold you here till I have had my fill of ye."

"I am not free. Ye must leave me as I am."

Eoghan felt his beast growl at the thought of who stood to gain this maid for a wife. He wanted to hunt down his rival and tear his throat out with his teeth, but who was he to argue. Eoghan himself was betrothed.

"This is all the time we have, lady, will ye not succumb?"

He took the maid by her chin and forced her eyes up to his. What he saw there reflected in her eyes were feelings as intense as his own. He stood a hair's breadth away from her, the pounding inside her chest audible to his supernatural ears.

"I am promised-"

"Damn the man who claims ye as his. He may have rights to yer future, lady, but yer present, here and now, is mine!"

Eoghan wrapped the lass close to his chest. The feel of her pressed against him sizzled through his body like a burning flame. There was no denying the intensity of his desire for her.

He bent his head and kissed her lips with all the pent-up passion he had inside of him. It was like being caught in the eye of the storm. Everything else faded away.

Deafening silence filled his ears as he tasted the sweet saltiness of her mouth. He growled deep inside his chest when she pressed herself more fully against him.

She sighed into the kiss, allowing him better access to her mouth. Enchanting. She wound her hands through his wet locks and held on as he delved inside of her heated mouth without fear or guile. No pretense or illusions. Nay, no lying or falseness here, his Wolf felt the honesty that made up her very being.

Wanton thoughts of lust and desire filled his brain, but there was more to it as well. Something familiar about her, though he could not place it.

There was a freshness and tenderness there, but also something powerful and raw. He pressed his hardened arousal against her hips, expecting her to swoon, but she didn't move away. She was fierce in her stance, meeting him stroke for stroke with tongue, lips, and teeth. I must have her.

Her breath was fresh and sweet, her body sumptuous, and her response intoxicating as he dove headfirst into her embrace. The rain that fell on them trickled down to a stop. A thick fog began to rise from the ground, losing their feet and legs in the misty whiteness.

Huge droplets of rain clung to his clothes, hair, and eyelashes, but he cared not. He was lost in their kiss. Longing threatened to consume him. He wanted to throw her down on the muddied ground and bury himself inside of her.

"I am mad for you, lady, wilt thou have me?"

"Sir? I, I-"

The temptation to take her right then and there was almost too much for him. He dipped his head to take her lips once more, determined to claim this maid, but the call of his man, Kelly, brought him back to reality. Far too soon.

"Tis finished, my lord! We are set to break camp! My lord, the fog grows thick, where art thou?!"

His Wolf growled in his mind's eye, take her, claim her as mate. He wanted too, sure as he needed to breathe air. The stomping footsteps of his men through the wood were getting closer and he'd not have her in front of an audience.

"Halt! I shall come to you!" Eoghan ended the kiss and called out to his men.

Glazed blue eyes met his dark ones. Funny, he thought, her eyes are blue as are mine when I am Wolf. Mine, the growled word reverberated through his head.

Perhaps he could bring her home with him, take her as his mistress? Even as the thought entered his mind, he dismissed it. She was not made to be a man's mistress and he could not live a lie.

While he was pondering the situation, the maiden raised a hand to her mouth. For some reason, the astonishment on her face was nearly his undoing.

Before he could speak, before he could put words to the tumultuous feelings inside of him, the lass reached out a trembling hand and brushed it across his face. Then she grabbed her sodden skirts and ran through the mist.

"There you are, my lord," Tom Kelly walked up to him and tried to look to see what it was Eoghan was so intent on.

There was, fortunately, nothing there. Not even a trace of her in the fog. She was gone.

The Wolf in him demanded he make chase; the man ran his hands through his hair and stood there powerless.

"I let her go."

"Who, my lord?"

"Her, Kelly."