Chapter 271 Morning Echoes

Chapter 271 Morning Echoes
It had been a month.

A month since the Blood Moon pack won the war, a month since they grew stronger, and a month since they truly believed a Luna would finally sit beside their king after all these long years of waiting.

Hope returned to the packhouse the very morning the king announced his upcoming wedding ceremony to Felda, and every single wolf in the territory was running about, busy with preparations.

•••

Inside a quiet stone cottage near the lower edge of the village, Emora stood over the hearth, stirring a clay pot.

She was busy preparing the morning meal for her husband. The smoke from the wood fire curled lazily against the dark rafters, smelling of warm pine and simmering roots.

Behind her, heavy footfalls went completely unheard over the crackle of the flames. Strong, calloused hands suddenly wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against a solid chest.

Emora let out a sharp shriek, her cheeks instantly burning bright red.

Even now, after all this time they spent together as mates, whenever this man touched her, it felt just like the very first time. Her breath caught in her throat. She loved the heavy, grounding weight of him; she loved the way he would wander into the kitchen just to crowd her space, and she loved how she felt entirely safe within the circle of his arms.

"What is my beloved cooking?" Cain murmured, burying his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin over the heavy aroma of the hearth.

Emora let out a breathy laugh, her hands resting nervously on the edge of the clay pot. "Broth," she murmured back, her voice shaking just a little bit from the sudden heat of his skin against hers.

Cain chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated right through her back. "Hmm. I can smell it all the way from outside the fence. I can't wait to taste it... and I can't wait to taste you after." He gave her waist a playful, firm pinch.

Emora furrowed her brows, turning her head slightly to look back at him with mild suspicion. "What does that even mean? You can't just..."

Cain didn't even let her finish the sentence. He shifted his grip, turning her smoothly in his arms so she had to face him.

"You know exactly what I mean," he said, his dark eyes fixed on her. "Be fast with this pot. I'll be waiting for you." He started to pull away, his fingers trailing down her arm.

Emora turned to him immediately, her expression dropping into a frown as she grabbed his wrist. "No. We can't do that in the morning, Cain. Have you forgotten what the healer told us? Your wolf is not fully healed from the battle." She protested, her voice firm even as her thumb stroked the thick scar on the back of his hand.

Cain let out a rough scoff, rolling his shoulders back. "I don't care about what the old healer said. I can have my wife whenever I want. Moreover, my wolf is restless... he wants you."

He stared down at her pleading eyes. He knew she only argued because she cared deeply about his well-being, but looking at her now, he simply couldn't resist this woman.

He had spent the last thirty days trying to hold himself back, forcing his body to rest while the warriors healed, and while the king and even Felda regained their full strength.

So why was he the only one still being treated like an invalid? Maybe this... holding his mate, losing himself in her warmth was the exact thing his body needed to finally heal completely.

Emora let out a soft sigh, seeing the stubborn glint in his dark-flecked eyes that told her arguing was useless. "Ok then. We can do it after I return from the palace. After I go see my queen and help with the wedding arrangements."

Beta Cain didn't like the sound of that at all.

The moment she mentioned leaving for the stone halls of the royalty, something stubborn snapped inside him.

He changed his mind instantly.

As if to prove his point, Emora's grip slipped, and the wooden stirring spoon clattered loudly against the stone floor, splashing a few drops of hot broth over the hearth stones.

"We're doing it now. I've changed my mind. I won't be long," Cain muttered, his voice dropping an octave.

Before she could take another step back, his hand reached up, tangling firmly into the dark locks at the nape of her neck. He pulled her head up and slammed his lips down onto hers in a fierce, hungry kiss.

"Huhmm," Emora moaned softly into his mouth, her resistance melting away the second her lips parted for him.

He kissed her with a desperate kind of hunger, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as if he had been starving for weeks.

After he had taken enough of her breath to make her head spin, he pulled back slightly, his chest rising and falling heavily. Without giving her a chance to speak, he slid his arms under her thighs and easily lifted her, setting her down on the heavy wooden table counter where she usually chopped the meat.

Emora let out a breathy giggle, resting her palms against his broad shoulders. "Be calm, Cain. I'm not running anywhere."

"I can't be calm," he muttered against her jaw, kissing a hot trail down her neck to the sensitive spot beneath her ear. "I can't imagine that I haven't properly touched you in two whole weeks."

His large, rough hands moved quickly, pushing her simple linen top up and away to reveal her standing breasts to the cool morning air. A low groan of appreciation escaped his throat.

"I've missed these perfect views," he whispered, dipping his head to take one hardened peek into his warm mouth while his thumb rolled heavily over the other.

Emora threw her head back against the rough wood of the wall behind her, a sharp moan tearing from her throat. Her fingers dug deep into his thick hair, holding him close as wave after wave of intense heat rushed through her lower belly.

Soon enough, Cain stepped between her knees, parting her legs wide. With quick, eager movements, he pushed her skirts up and out of the way, revealing her wet, trembling skin to his touch.

He didn't waste any time; he pulled free his heavy, throbbing cock, pressing the hot length against her entrance before driving straight into her.

Emora let out a sharp gasp, her entire body shaking as she grabbed blindly at his broad shoulders for support, her nails digging into his skin as he filled her.

The rustic kitchen grew quiet except for the heavy sound of their ragged breathing and the rhythmic scrape of wood against stone as Cain set a fierce, demanding pace.

He moved into her with a deep, punishing hunger, each thrust driving away the last month of cold distance and worry between them.

Emora wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, meeting him thrust for thrust, her hips rising to match his heavy rhythm until the rest of the world, the war, the pack, the royal wedding... faded away into nothingness.

They gave themselves over entirely to the heat, building toward a sharp, blinding peak together until both of them cried out into the quiet morning air, shuddering as their bodies went completely lax in each other's arms.

Afterward, the cottage was wonderfully still.

They lay together for a long while on the wide wooden bench near the hearth, wrapped in a tangle of limbs and quiet sighs while the clay pot simmered down to a thick, rich broth.

Cain rested his chin heavily on Emora's bare shoulder, his breathing slow and even, his wolf finally resting heavy and content within his chest.

When the morning sun climbed higher past the narrow kitchen window, casting bright bars of gold across the floorboards,

Cain finally sat up. He stretched his broad back, a wide, satisfied grin resting on his lips as he looked down at his flushed wife.

"Now," Cain said, pressing one last lingering kiss to her forehead before standing up to adjust his trousers. "Feed your husband properly so I can watch you walk out that door."

Emora laughed softly, pulling her linen top back into place and smoothing down her skirts with trembling fingers. She stood up from the counter, her legs still feeling delightfully weak, and scooped a wooden bowl full of the thick, spiced ancient meal for him.

Cain sat at the rough-hewn wooden table, eagerly taking the bowl from her hands. He ate with the hearty, loud appetite of a working male wolf, scraping the bottom of the bowl clean while Emora watched him with a fond, knowing smile playing on her lips.

When he finished, he set the wooden bowl down with a heavy thud, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and stood up to pull her into a brief, crushing embrace right at the front door.

"Be safe at the palace," Cain murmured into her hair, pressing a warm kiss to her forehead before giving her a gentle pat on the hip. "And don't stay too long talking with the queen. I expect my wife back before the sun hits the high ridge."

Emora smiled up at him, her heart full, before tying her wrap over her shoulders and stepping out into the bright morning air to make her way up the winding dirt path toward the royal gates.