The Song Of The Wolf (Unedited)

Chapter Thirty-Four

The deal with the messenger of the gods had been a blessing in disguise.

Maebh knew her dreams to contain an element of truth and with the confirmation of her pregnancy; she had suggested a different twist to their original plan. The alterations treaded between the margins of their deal, and therefor did not cheat the blood oath.

"What changed?" Hèrmes had inquired at her sudden quantum leap.

"The stakes."

While still overexcited to be the bringer of mayhem, the god had taken on a more subdued stance –privy to the fact that he would now assist in the protection of two unborn babies.

Their plan would go into effect in 2-days time, affording a sufficient scope for Maebh to mentally prepare, and to set their traps.

In a daze, she had tidied the room of worship as well as the library and shuffled a path to the kitchen in search of refined sugars. That is where Fillin found her; perched atop the counter, gorging herself on red velvet cookies while the chef and his team hustled and bustled to prepare the evening's dinner. The kitchen and all its occupants ebbed down in volume as soon as the prince entered.

He came to a standstill in front of Maebh and her belly clenched at the sight of him; her beautiful stranger.

"What did you do?"

A chill ran down her spine, sweat breaking out on her face.

"What did I—do?" She fought down a stammer.

Fillin inclined his head towards the palm that was swaddled in lilac silk, and when he inadvertently grazed the wounded flesh, she cried out. Raising his narrowed gaze to hers, he tried to glean what he could with just that contact.

"To your hand? What did you do?"

Her tensed shoulders relaxed. "Oh—yes I dropped a glass and cut myself picking up the pieces."

She cradled her sore hand and hoped the prince wouldn't intercept the lie as he watched her sceptically.

"It didn't feel like that."

Fleetingly having forgotten that unfortunate facet of their completed bond, Maebh blinked at the angry red gash on his own palm. What else had he felt?

"They were like—really big and sharp pieces." she demurred, but he remained focused on her hand. "It was one of your mother's favourite glasses too, so please don't tell her." He seemed on the verge of arguing so she assumed an air of feigned confidence.

"Come here," she coaxed him.

With surprising readiness, Fillin stepped between her thighs and the people around them disappeared as her ankles hooked and locked him in place. Two steely arms appeared on either side of her, the air between their bodies thrumming with bridled energy.

Maebh lifted her uninjured hand and traced the lines of his face, taking in all the little details; from the amber maelstroms to the scar that pierced his brow and those pink, pink lips that never failed to tempt her yearning.

Like a battalion advancing in platoon front, deep slashes had etched themselves between his eyebrows and on his forehead, prompting Maebh to try and massage them into repose. She was about to question his expression, when the prince seemingly stole the words from her mouth.

"Are you alright?"

She couldn't help but smile at the same wavelength they were on, finally meshing in sync. "Yes, why? Are you?"

"Yes," he said, and added, "You seem sad."

Maebh wanted to cry. "I'm just tired, I haven't been sleeping well."