Page 25 of Wolf's Return
Merde.
D’Artagnon flung himself off the bed, his chest heaving, and stared down at his body. His nakedhumanbody. He had done itagain. An uncontrolled, uncalled upon shift. In his sleep.L’enfer, he had done more than that. He had kissed her in his sleep. Kissed her inhersleep.
Merde.
If his father were alive, he would have had him flogged. His mother would have strung him up by his testicles. Even the thought ofthatdid nothing to dampen his ardor. His stupid cock was hard and willing. More than willing. The way she had opened to him, moaning into his mouth and letting him…L’enfer. She had been but a fingertip away from taking him in her hand. His cock jerked at the memory, a bead of pre-cum glistening at its tip. He stifled a groan.Merde. He had wanted her hand on him. Craved it. Hungered for it even now.
Constance mumbled in her sleep, her words unintelligible even to his heightened hearing. A blessing. If she had whispered his name, it would have been his undoing.Hadbeen his undoing.
Perhaps he should have stayed off the bed, slept by the fire, but the pretty flush of her embarrassment when she had mentioned him sleeping on the bed, the coy way she had ducked her head, biting her bottom lip, had been too much of a temptation to resist. Then, as he had slept, too close a proximity to her had vanquished his control.
She rolled to face him in her sleep, her golden tresses a mess about her head, her lips parted on a soft sigh. More blood flowed to his throbbing cock, and his wolf prowled in his mind.
A fine thing for you to prowlnow. To want to get outnow. Where were you when I shifted?
He had not had an uncontrolled shift since he was a young boy. Since he had competed with his brother for the attention of young she-wolves. That he had done so twice in his sleep unnerved him. That this female could undermine his defenses, honed over long years of exile, astonished him.
He should have stayed off the damn bed, pretty pink flush on her cheeks or no. Kept his distance and slept by the brazier. Perhaps then he would not have shifted. Thank the fates she had not awoken and caught him taking advantage of her lush body. He could only hope she would have no memory of it on the morn.
D’Artagnon closed his eye and willed his mind and body to relax, to ignore the heady scent of the little healer in the bed. Inhisbed.
Merde. Stopthinkingabout her.
He paced the floor, his agitation growing. At his inability to exert control over himself, and at the unfamiliar feel of walking on two legs. Every time she moved, or murmured soft words inher dream state, his damn body responded and his wolf evaded him. His heart pounded, his mouth went dry and his hands shook. He wanted,neededhis wolf back.
He called on the discipline his father had instilled in him as a youth and tried to center himself and reestablish some measure of control over his body. It took a moment. More than a moment. Elusive and fleeting, it slipped from his grasp several times until, finally, D’Artagnon got his mind under control, if not his cock, and was able to call forth his wolf.
He heaved out a sigh and let the change flow through him, sinking to the floor on four legs, into the fur-covered form he had become more at home in, protected from the cold night air and from the world and all its dangers. He turned from the bed, shoving his raging need and the discomfort in his groin to the dark recesses of his mind, and curled up by the brazier. Here, with only the heat from the coals, there was nothing to tempt him. For he could no longer trust himself when he slept.
Chapter Fourteen
Constance groaned and snuggled deeper into the covers as the door opened and Anne swept into the room.
“Good morrow, child.” The old cook bustled over to the shutters and banged them open. “Good morrow, D’Artagnon,” said Anne, addressing a spot beyond the end of the bed.
Constance frowned, and kicked her leg out, encountering linens and bed covers but no wolf. She sat up and peered over the end of the bed. By the brazier.Oh.Disappointment burned the back of her throat.
At some point in the night, he must have slunk off the bed. Perhaps her dreaming had disturbed him. Heat rose over her chest and her nipples hardened at the memory.Oh, no.Had I…? Did I…?She flopped back against the pillow and stared at the ceiling. Could she have muttered his name in her sleep? Her eyes widened. Or worse, had shereachedfor him? She would not have. Surely? The accusation in Monsieur D’Artagnon’s eye told a different story.
“Come, child. The ladies are all waiting for you downstairs. Erin is eager to assist you in your search for something to help D’Artagnon.” An indulgent smile curled on Anne’s lips. “Never have I seen a more curious girl than her.”
Constance tucked away her embarrassment and climbed out of bed. She would simply pretend she had no recollection of it, as though it had never happened. But as she let Anne dress her, as Monsieur D’Artagnon’s glare deepened, she suspected it might not be that simple. She may have—unintentionally—hardenedhis resistance to her. She needed Monsieur D’Artagnon willing. And with another morn she had slept late, this time keeping Dame Erin waiting, she had a lot of ground to make up. She might have skills the Langeais wolves required, and be their best hope of unlocking Monsieur D’Artagnon from his wolf, but she needed her connection with them more. This wasnotthe way to impress them. Or convince Monsieur D’Artagnon to trust her.
She snatched up her grimoire and headed down the stairs to the hall, a subdued and wary Monsieur D’Artagnon following a few steps behind her.
Seated at the large table with all the men, Seigneur Gaharet looked up as she paused in the doorway. “Good morrow, Constance. The women are convening in the library this morn.” He turned his attention to the black wolf beside her. “Will you join us, D’Artagnon?”
Monsieur D’Artagnon hesitated. He had barely left her side since her arrival, but this morn… Not waiting to see what he would choose, Constance curtsied to Seigneur Gaharet and made her way down the corridor. To Constance’s surprise, Monsieur D’Artagnon followed. Mm, mayhap she had put too much stock in his expression. Perhaps it had naught to do with her. An uneasy night’s sleep, maybe? If the fates were on her side for once.
With a lift in her shoulders, Constance entered the library and sprang back, hand clutched to her throat as a blade swished through the air, narrowly missing her. “Oh, my.”
Beside her, Monsieur D’Artagnon growled, the hair on his ruff standing on end.
Dame Kathryn flounced away, stabbing and swinging a sword with reckless abandon. D’Artagnon whined and Constance, her heart pumping a little too fast, dropped her hand, reaching for the black wolf and running her fingers reassuringly through his thick fur. “Yes, she took me by surprise, too.”
Dame Erin looked up from reading the journal and smiled. “Morning, Constance.”
Constance eased into the cozy room lined with chests of books and scrolls, keeping a wary eye on Dame Kathryn. D’Artagnon slunk past her, and scooted under a chair, out of reach of Dame Kathryn’s flailing.
