Leap of the Lion (The Wild Hunt Legacy #4)(90)

She tensed for all of a moment before melting against him. When he tipped her back into the soft grass and flattened her with his weight, she made no protest. Her arms came around him.

At least she had no trouble losing control when mating. Perhaps because she had no bad memories to overcome.

Owen lifted his head to glance at his brother.

Despite the slight worried crinkle of his eyes, Gawain gave him an amused look. “My turn.”

Obligingly, Owen rolled to Darcy’s right and propped his head up on his hand.

On her left, Gawain stretched out and, before she could sit up, rolled on top of her. “Kiss me, sweetling,” he murmured.

She frowned and looked at Owen.

Ah. She’d been in human hands for too long. “Kiss him, Darcy. We both like your kisses.”

Her look of delight was endearing. And then ever so sweetly, she wiggled her right arm under Owen to stroke his back and keep them connected.

Curling her other arm around Gawain’s back, she gave him her lips.

Owen smiled. So sweet.

As Gawain kept her occupied, Owen deliberated. Acknowledging she had to give the animal control wouldn’t work if her past blocked her. She needed to face her fears to move past them.

Talking was the first step. After all, they were her mentors, the ones she trusted, but apparently, not enough.

Mating could break down barriers and increase trust.

Then mating it would be.

The detour for her lesson had brought them up a steep climb no human hikers could manage. This meadow was private. The grass was soft. The sun was high and warm against bare skin—and there were no shadows to frighten a little female.

Aye, this was the time to deal with nightmares. Lying on his side, he caught his brother’s attention with the subliminal hum that meant I have an idea.

Gawain lifted his head and waited for Owen to indicate what the plan was.

Darcy was on her back. Owen slid closer until he pressed against Darcy from the side. A glance ensured that Gawain would do the same. Owen set his free hand on her breast, cupping it, kneading it, enjoying the softness that fit in his palm so nicely. It made an excellent way to keep her in place.

Gawain’s eyebrows rose, then he simply followed suit.


What were they doing? Flat on her back, Darcy looked up at the two males who were studying her carefully. Their warm, hard bodies pushed against her. Owen had a hand on her breast, holding her firmly, and obviously enjoying himself.

Gawain’s hand was broader. As his callused thumb rubbed over her nipple, her whole body tensed. Anticipation simmered deep in her core.

Two males. She could smell their interest, could feel their erect cocks pressing against her hips. But why were they watching her like that? “No more kisses?”

“Aye. In a bit.” Owen’s voice was deeper than normal. Huskier. His gaze never left hers as he stroked her breast until her toes curled. “It’s daytime, kitten. Warm and quiet and far from anything frightening.”

“Ah.” Gawain’s expression changed to one of comprehension. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. When she looked at him, his gaze was both stern and sympathetic. “Owen’s right. It’s time to tell us about your nightmare. What haunts your trail, sweetling?”

“No.” Instinctively, she tried to sit up, but…the hands holding her breasts simply pressed down. She’d put her arms around them earlier, and now her elbows were pinned under their bodies.

Owen had the nerve to caress her again. “We’ll continue kissing after we talk.”

She glared. “I’m not in the mood, not anymore, and I’m not going to talk with you. Let me up.”

“Sweetling,” Gawain said softly. His eyes were the same clear blue as the vast sky behind him. “Didn’t you agree to tell us about your nightmare today?”

She had agreed. Her voice came out almost a whimper. “I don’t want to.”

Gawain nodded. “I know. But fears are best faced in the light of day—and with someone beside you.”

She had two concerned someones. The ice of fear was in her veins, but the sun was hot on her skin, and the males were unmoving guardians on each side. Talk, Darcy.

She wet her lips. “My nightmares are memories. Mainly one.” She stuck there.

“When did it happen?” Gawain asked. “In the last year?”

The question helped. “Way back. The adults had all died, and they brought us up out of the basement and cages. They were afraid they’d lose us all.”

The deadly growl from Owen shook her bones…and was the most heartening thing she’d ever heard.

“We did the yard work, cleaning, gardening, but weren’t allowed to talk to each other—to anyone, really—and couldn’t touch or be together.” Do the work. Be silent.

“By the God.” Owen looked at Gawain. “Can you imagine what that kind of isolation would do to wolves?”

Gawain’s jaw clenched. “Did you talk?”

“Not me… Margery did. She was whispering to Barbara and got caught. The guard—they all carry canes—he started hitting her.”

The whacking sound against flesh, Margery’s cry of pain. Her begging. I’m sorry. Dropping to her knees.

As Darcy went silent, sliding down into the nightmare, Owen cupped her cheek and turned her head. His eyes were a stern, compelling green.