The Macconwood Pack Tales Volume 1 Read online

  THE MACCONWOOD PACK TALES VOLUME 1

  C.D. GORRI

  Contents

  Wolf Bride

  Blurb

  Pronunciation & Translations

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Summer Bite

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Epilogue

  Charley’s Baby Surprise

  Blurb

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  Have you met my Bears?

  Beware… Here Be Dragons!

  Other Titles by C.D. Gorri

  Excerpt from Purrfectly Mated

  Excerpt from Wolf Shield: Guardians of Chaos

  Excerpt from Grizzly Lover:

  About the Author

  Wolf Bride

  Blurb

  One bride, two Wolves, and a love neither of them knew was possible.

  * * *

  He is the first son of the Alpha, a warrior, and a Hound of God. Duty bound to secure the future of his Pack.

  * * *

  He must sacrifice his freedom and marry the lass of his father’s choosing, but a chance meeting changes his mind.

  * * *

  She is the property of her father. A woman with a secret and a yearning for the truth. Lies, threats, and betrayal are just some of the forces driving their future.

  * * *

  Will Eoghan and Ailis find true love in spite of it all?

  * * *

  Find out how it all began in this prequel to the Macconwood Pack Series.

  Pronunciation & Translations

  Eoghan: Owen

  * * *

  Ailis: Alice

  * * *

  Leine: Laynya (a shirt or tunic on men, a dress on women)

  * * *

  Cota: Coe Tah (coat)

  * * *

  Inar: Ee Nar (Jacket)

  * * *

  Plaide: Played (blanket)

  * * *

  Failte: Fal Cha (Welcome)

  * * *

  Oidhre: Ay Va (Heir)

  * * *

  Baile na nGascioch Conriochtai: (Village of the Warrior Wolves)

  * * *

  Uisce Beatha: Ishca Baha (whiskey)

  * * *

  Benedicat omnis hic ambulare in nebula, nos ab hoste, protégé occulos: (Latin) Curse all here to walk in the fog, protect us from their eyes!

  Prologue

  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 bitch 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 t
o 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 nipples 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.