Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(50)
“She was.” Gawain smiled. “And She approves of your mating.” He set the lifemating bands into the male’s hand. “Blessings upon you and yours.”
Grady beamed, his joy a soft hum in the air, and took his leave.
Unable to stop grinning, Gawain headed back to the barn.
In the doorway, Darcy stood, her dark eyes wide. She pressed her hands to her chest. “I felt…it was like my mother had come back and tucked me into bed and—”
Unable to help himself, he put his arm around her shoulders. “Love is a gift of the Goddess, especially a mother’s love for her cubs. When the Goddess is near, that sense of being cherished is what you feel.”
“Yes.” Her eyes filled, not with joy, but with loss. “I haven’t felt that since…since my mum died. I miss her.”
This one had the capacity to break his heart. He pulled her into his arms. “Of course you do, catling. But life goes on. You will find others to love and who will love you in return.”
Bending, he touched her lips with his, tasting the salt of her tears.
When she made a tiny sound and her lips parted, he deepened the kiss, teasing his tongue against hers, enjoying the softness of her lips and the way she melted against him.
More. Purring, he molded her soft body against his—and took more.
“What happened?” The low growl of his littermate broke into the stillness of the barn.
Darcy tried to jerk back…and Gawain didn’t let her. “Brawd.”
“What happened?” Owen repeated. Undoubtedly scenting Darcy’s distress, Owen had a hand on his knife and—typical cahir—was hunting an enemy to attack.
“You’re chasing the wrong prey.” Looking down, Gawain used his fingertips to wipe the wetness from Darcy’s cheeks. “I charged lifemating bracelets, and our catling is missing her mother.”
“She’s… Oh, right.” Owen’s hand fell from the dagger on his forearm. His gaze ran over Darcy, undoubtedly noting her pale face. “Forgive me if I scared you, little female, and I’m sorry for your loss.”
She pulled in a shaky breath. “Thank you.”
A corner of Owen’s mouth curled up cynically. “At least you had a mother worthy of mourning.” Spinning on his heel, he stalked out of the barn.
Darcy stared after him. “Is…is he all right?”
“Mostly. Around him, saying “mother” is akin to poking a grizzly with a sharp stick. Our mother mistreated him.” Be honest, mage. “More than that. She was cruel to him.” Guilt slid a sharp blade into his gut. He hadn’t suffered the same way.
In fact…
The Mother’s love flooded him with every lifemating bracelet he made. In contrast, as a cahir, Owen knew only blood and death. Although he’d feel the Goddess’s touch when shifting, his littermate had never known how much love a real mother could give a cub.
No wonder Owen had little tolerance for females.
Chapter Thirteen
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Owen said it was easy. Gawain said it was easy. As Darcy eyed the tree limb, her tail lashed back and forth. Carefully, she calculated her trajectory. The branch wasn’t that high. She’d grab it with her claws, lean forward, and her back claws would catch the bark.
I can do it. It’s easy—they said so.
She sprang.
No, too high! Frantically, she clawed at the bark—and kept going. Twisting in midair, she managed to land on the ground in one piece.
For the Mother’s sake, what was wrong with her? She’d been more competent as a kid—in human form. Cats weren’t supposed to have problems with jumping.
But she sure did.
Staring up at the tree, she felt her spirits sag. Her legs were sore and aching, her paws scraped, and she’d almost pulled a claw out. She was done.
Wearily, she padded down the forest trail toward the lodge.
Owen and Gawain were working on their house this morning and had told her to enjoy a run all by herself. To see how she did.
Well, she’d done just fine until she’d decided to practice her leaps.
Near the lodge, she stopped at the creek to lap up a drink. The undines playing near the lodge spotted her, darted through the water, and did a few leaps to demonstrate their own skills. And splash her.
Fishy show-offs. Although, the water felt good on her sun-warmed fur.
When she didn’t dive into the creek to chase them, the undines swarmed back through the water to their favored spot near the footbridge.
As her fur dried, Darcy watched them resume their games…and her gaze caught on the huge trees—a spruce and an oak—which shaded the patio and small playground. The oak tree had a lovely low branch, didn’t it?
Hmm.
No, you tomfool tinker.
She couldn’t use that tree for practice. Human fishermen often rented cabins at the lodge.
But no one was out on the patio today, and the oak branch was lower and thicker than any she’d found in the evergreen forest. Surely, no one would notice if she practiced.
Owen would have been proud of how well she crept through the trees to the oak.
She sprang.
Failed.
The sprite in the spruce tree chittered its laughter.
Stupid pixie.
She sprang.