First Touch Part 1

Kieran -

The moment her fingers touched mine, I knew I was lost.

Her pulse fluttered against my skin like a caged bird—quick, delicate, utterly alive in a way that made my wolf surge forward with predatory hunger. Twenty-seven years of isolation, of careful control, of denying myself even the simplest human contact, and now she was here. Real. Warm. Mine.

Control, I reminded myself desperately. She's frightened enough without sensing what you really are.

But control felt like a foreign concept with her hand in mine. Her skin was softer than silk, warmer than I'd expected, and carried that intoxicating scent that had been driving me to distraction for weeks. Up close, with nothing but a few inches of air between us, the effect was overwhelming.

Rose and rain and something that's purely her. The combination went straight to my head like the finest whiskey, making rational thought increasingly difficult.

The wolf wanted to pull her closer, to bury my face against her throat and breathe in that scent until it was burned into my memory. Wanted to press my lips to the spot where her pulse beat so frantically and taste the fear-sweetened blood beneath her skin.

Wanted to mark her as mine before another second passed.

"Welcome home, Catherine," I said, the words rougher than I'd intended. Her name on my tongue felt like claiming, like prophecy fulfilled, like the first breath after drowning.

The way her eyes widened at my phrasing told me she'd caught the possessive undertone. Good. Let her understand from the beginning that this wasn't a temporary arrangement, wasn't a simple matter of housing and companionship that could be terminated at will.

She was home now. My home. And I had no intention of letting her leave.

Ever.

The thought should have disturbed me—the casual assumption of ownership, the complete disregard for her own wishes and autonomy. But the wolf had recognized its mate, and nothing as civilized as human morality was going to override instincts that had been building for decades.

I forced myself to release her hand before I could give in to the urge to trace patterns on her skin, to map the delicate bones of her wrist, to press my thumb against her pulse point and feel the rapid beat of her heart. But even that brief contact had been enough to cement what I'd suspected since her father first spoke her name.

Mate. Pack. Mine.

The certainty was absolute, overwhelming, terrifying in its intensity. Whatever the prophecy had promised, whatever magic had brought her here, the bond was already forming. I could feel it settling into place like a missing piece of myself finally clicking home.

"Come," I said, stepping toward the grand staircase. "Your chambers are prepared."

Your chambers. As if she would have need of privacy, of space away from me. As if the bond forming between us wouldn't eventually render such considerations meaningless.

But I was getting ahead of myself. The wolf might recognize its mate, but the woman walking beside me was still adjusting to the reality of her situation. Still processing the fact that she'd been traded like currency to settle her father's debts.

Patience, I counseled myself. She needs time to accept what's happening. Time to understand that this is fate, not tragedy.

The staircase rose in a graceful curve toward the upper levels of the castle, its marble steps worn smooth by centuries of use. I'd climbed these stairs thousands of times over the decades, but tonight they felt different. Tonight, I wasn't alone.

Catherine moved beside me with careful grace, one hand trailing along the ornate balustrade, her attention focused on her footing with the intense concentration of someone trying not to think too hard about larger implications.

Good, I thought. Focus on the immediate. The abstract can wait until you're ready to process it.

"The castle is beautiful," she said quietly, her voice echoing in the vast space. "How long has it been in your family?"

Centuries, I almost said. Since before your ancestors learned to build with stone, since before Christianity reached these mountains, since the old ways still held sway and men knew better than to venture into places like this.

"A very long time," I said instead. "It's been... modified over the years, but the bones of it are ancient."

Ancient. Like the magic that sustained it, like the curse that bound me to it, like the bloodline that had ruled here since time out of mind. But Catherine didn't need to know about any of that yet.

She paused at the first landing, her hand tightening slightly on the railing. For a moment I thought she might be having second thoughts, might be considering the wisdom of following a strange man deeper into his domain.

Then she swayed slightly, fatigue and stress finally catching up with her, and instinct overrode every consideration of propriety.