Page 36 of The Howling (Monsters of the Yeavering #2)

T he look on Wynter’s face is different to the shiver which runs through her small form. She’s wearing a dress made of scarlet silk today, and I’d like to tear it off her with my teeth.

Then I’d like to sink my jaws into her soft flesh.

“Did your mother tell you to bite me?” She narrows her eyes.

“No, absolutely not!” I exclaim.

She didn’t.. It was my uncle, who also seems to have a vested interest in me filling my mate with pups. Or he could be a loyal brother to my long dead father, who is not one of the spirits linked to this place.

His death was long before the curse.

“And how does biting help?”

“A Barghest bite has certain properties. To our enemies, it is death. To our mates, it is life. It can help with the mating process, and it is part of our mating rituals, has been for centuries.”

“Part of getting married?”

“That’s something which is relatively recent…it comes with the curse. My ancestors were fond of less subtle ways of showing the Yeavering what belonged to them.”

My Wynter makes another face, the one she always does when I say she is mine. I don’t think she believes me.

I don’t think she knows exactly what it means to be mated to a Barghest, despite my sprit mother’s meddling and my spirit siblings pushing me at her every moment of the day. The fact our mating seemed to give Wynter the ability to see them is yet another curse…or a blessing if you ask my mother.

And since I’ve spent so much time ignoring them all, they’ve clearly taken this opportunity to be back in my life.

A life presently free of the Reaper, although his presence hangs heavy over me.

“My bite is my claim, and you bite me too,” I go on, repressing the frisson of lust which spikes through me at being bitten.

“Then what?” Wynter stares up at me, her eyes twinkling in the light from all the candles lit by the Duegar to illuminate the dark hall. “What happens after you bite me?”

“I’m…not sure, only that it makes our bodies more, receptive,” I rasp.

The thought of her being more receptive to my seed has my prick so hard I could punch holes in metal.

The gods damned thing is rarely soft these days, but here, explaining about the claiming bite to my delicious mate, I could sheath it in her and never stop coming, never stop knotting, never stop mating.

“I’ll think about it,” she says, her head dipping.

I put a single finger under her chin and lift her face to mine.

“I will, Reavely. I made my choice. I am here, with you. I’m going to marry you. After all, I think your family would haunt me forever if I didn’t.”

I hope it’s not the only reason, despite the fact my pack are crowding at the door at this very moment, as clearly someone with a keen spectral ear has overheard something.

I usher Wynter through them and into the great hall. Already there have been changes. The old banners have been taken down and new fresh ones installed.

My mother clearly has ways with the Duegar, despite not having any solid form to speak of.

And, of course, at the far end of the hall, the fire burning merrily behind her, she sits with my sister and uncle at a table laid for breakfast. One they will never eat.

“Oh, there they are!” my mother calls out.

Next to me, Wynter squares her shoulders and shakes her hair down her back. I slide my arm around her waist.

In life, my mother was formidable. In death, hardly less so, other than no physical presence. My mate is impressive in how she manages this entire sudden thrusting into a pack. Even a spirit one.

“Look who has come to see you,” she adds, pointing to one of the chairs.

The Hedley Kow sits there, looking like a feline in a dairy. Dratted creature, I thought we’d got rid of it.

“Lilburn!” Wynter cries, pulling away from my grip as she flies over the flags to greet her friend, and they embrace.

“I have confirmation your friend and Gloriana are safe. They are…”

I pluck Wynter away from her before she can say any more, giving her my best Barghest glare.

“They’re in Ashwinton,” she says, confusion running over her face, “and Gloriana has set up a bakery. Kaitlyn is helping her.”

“Kaitlyn did love to bake,” Wynter says happily. “Thank you so much for checking on them for me.”

“You have friends? You must invite them!” my mother cries.

“The wedding’s happening then,” the Hedley Kow says to Wynter.

“With bells on,” Wynter murmurs.

The creature gives me a long, knowing stare, and then her face splits into a wide grin.

“Tell me, Mistress Lorelei, what do you have planned for these lovebirds?” she says. “I’m sure it will be a wedding fit for a prince.”

I watch Wynter’s mouth fall open. The Hedley Kow might not have dropped me in it about one aspect I’ve yet to broach with my mate, but she’s managed to make my day significantly harder.

“Prince?” Wynter rounds on me.

“Not Prince, not anymore, dear.” My mother lifts her head from where she’s clearly discussing her plans with the Hedley Kow. “You well know, with your father gone, you become king.”

Wynter takes one look at me, and she walks away without a word, through the door into the Duegar’s domain. It closes with a horribly final click behind her.

“One of these days, Mother…” I growl under my breath.

“You’ll kill me?” she trills. “Too late, Reavely. I’m already dead, and she was going to find out sooner or later.”

“I won’t have to kill you,” I turn my gaze on the Hedley Kow. “But I’ll know where to send the Reaper next.”