The wolf raced through the woods, as if trying to outrun the night. The thin crescent of the moon offered little light, but his eyes were keen.
His heart was burdened.
He rarely sought sleep now, for the dreams would come no matter how he willed them away. They were always of her.
When he reached the cliffs, he threw back his head and called out for his mate. Even as the sound swept away the silence, he grieved for what he’d so carelessly lost.
He tried to blame her, and did. Often. Whatever form he took, his mind worked coolly, finding dozens of ways, small and large, to shift the burden to her.
She’d been too impulsive, too rash. She’d twisted his motives, his logic. Deliberately. She’d refused to see the clear-cut sense in everything he’d done.
But tonight that line of thinking did nothing to ease his heart. He turned away from the cliffs, outraged that he couldn’t stop yearning for her. When the voice whispered,Love waitsin his head, he snarled viciously and blocked it out.
He prowled the shadows. He sniffed the air, snarled again. It was Rowan he scented, some trick of the mind, he thought, infuriated with his own weakness. She’d left him, and that was the end of it.
Then he saw the light, a gold glimmer through the trees. Tawny eyes narrowed as he moved toward the circle of stones. He stepped through them, saw her standing in the center. And went very still.
She wore a long dress the color of moondust that foamed around her ankles. Her hair was loose, flowing over her shoulders, with hints of silver shining in it from the jewels wound through. There was silver at her wrists as well, at her ears.
And on the bodice of her dress lay a pendant, an oval of moonstone in a setting of hammered silver.
She stood slim and straight behind the fire she’d made. Then she smiled at him.
“Waiting for me to scratch your ears, Liam?” She caught the quick flash of temper in his eyes, and only continued to smile.
The wolf stepped forward, became a man. “You left without a word.”
“I thought we had plenty of words.”
“Now you’ve come back.”
“So it seems.” She arched a brow with a studied coolness even as her stomach jumped with raw nerves. “You’re wearing your amulet. So you’ve decided.”
“Aye. I’ll take my duty when it comes. And you wear yours.”
“My great-grandmother’s legacy to me.” Rowan closed her fingers around the stone, felt it calm her nerves. “I’ve accepted it, and myself.”
His hands burned to touch her. He kept them lightly fisted at his side. “I’ll be going back to Ireland.”
“Really?” She said it lightly, as if it meant nothing to her. “I’m planning on leaving for Ireland myself in the morning. That’s why I thought I should come back and finish this.”
“Ireland?” His brows drew together. Who was this woman? was all he could think, so cool, so self-possessed.
“I want to see where I came from. It’s a small country,” she said with a careless shrug, “but large enough for us to stay out of each other’s way. If that’s what you want.”
“I want you back.” The words were out before he could stop them. He hissed out a curse, jammed his fisted hands into his pockets. So he’d said it, he thought, humbled himself with the words and the needs. And the hell with it. “I want you back,” he repeated.
“For what?”
“For—” She baffled him. He dragged his hands free to rake them through his hair. “For what do you think? I’ll take my place in the family, and I want you with me.”
“It’s hardly that simple.”
He started to speak, something ill-advised and much too heated, he realized, and pulled himself back. Control might be shaky—in the name of Finn, just look at her—but it was still there. “All right, I hurt you. I’m sorry for it. It was never my intention, and I apologize.”
“Well then, you’re sorry. Let me just jump into your arms.”
He blinked, deeply shocked at the biting tone. “What do you want me to say? I made a mistake—more than one. I don’t like admitting it.”