The Passion of the Storm

It was raining; of that much, Brianna was sure. Focusing on the sound of rolling thunder helped rouse her from her sleep and drown out the pound of her trembling heart. She sat abruptly, brushing the last remnants of her nightmare away, staring with wide grey eyes at the ancient clock stuck to the dingy wall of her cheap room; it ticked loudly every second, sticking here and there as the second hand made its way around the face. She stared at the clock intently, waiting for the beating of her heart to slow once more. The sound of the pouring rain and the nearly steady tick of the clock helped to calm her.

With an angry sigh, Brianna flopped backwards onto her stiff, creaking bed, dark brown hair sprawling out in curls across her white pillow; feeling frustrated at another night's bad sleep. She had been having these nightmares for close to three months now; they had gotten so bad so quickly, that for two weeks, before she left her home, she had stayed up every night, not allowing herself a moment's sleep. That, of course, led to a decrease in productivity at her work, and her immanent termination. Finding herself now with a bit of free time on her hands, Brianna had decided to take a small break before looking for new employment. She had saved up a good sum of money, and always having had a curiosity and desire to see Ireland, she flew across the Atlantic from her home in Northern California, to the little island.

That was how she had found herself here, in this worn down inn, an hour or south of Dublin, southwest of Dun Laoghaire (a seaside town she had briefly passed through, finding it beautiful, with a wonderful public park), right in the middle of nowhere. She ran a pale hand across her face, her pink tongue darting out to taste her lush lower lip. The dream had never been as vivid as it had just been; and if she were being honest with her, there was a bit of excitement mixed in with all that fear. She swallowed, closing her eyes as she tried to recall it.

It started the same as it always did; she had been alone in a drizzly wood, wearing naught but a white nightshift that ended a few inches above her knees with a bit of lace, and dipped down dangerously across her adequate bust line. The drizzle would then turn to a light rain, and she would get an itch between her shoulder blades, as if she were being watched intently. She would turn slowly, and be met with the curious, intense stare of a large, black wolf, amber eyes boring into her own. They would stare at each other for a few long moments before it would pick up a growl in its throat, something dark moving through those gorgeous, lustrous eyes. And, of course, she would turn and flee the opposite direction, moving clumsily over fallen trees, around broken stumps and past hanging lichen. Her movements were comparatively slow to that of the wolf, which could run at thirty five miles an hour.

She would hear it panting after her, paws noiseless on the soft, sodden earth. It was a log that would do her in, causing her to be airborne a few moments before face planting into the moist, rich soil. She would lay, stunned, her nightshift crumpled around her waist, exposing her nether region to the world at large. Before she had the time for her senses to return enough to get back up, or even to crawl away, the wolf would land on her, claws digging into her tender white flesh, teeth snapping at her back. She would scream as it snarled above her, and that was normally when she would awaken. But not last night; no, it had continued. The wolf had not immediately begun devouring her as she had expected. Its claws had dug into the expanse of her shoulders, and the backs of her sturdy yet soft thighs, leaving cuts and scrapes in the flesh. It had snarled in her ear; snapped its jaws at her neck, biting down just enough to draw blood. It had then lapped eagerly at the wounds, making soft, guttural sounds as it drank down the coppery taste of her.

She had begun to cry softly, making small helpless noises with each stroke of its rough tongue along her sensitive skin. The wolf, having lapped up all the blood at the surface, pulled its muzzle back, letting out a coughing bark as its claws and paws dug more fiercely into her thighs. Brianna cried out, more from shock than pain, her legs jerking, trying to squirm out from under the menacing talons. The wolf began panting in her ear, growling low again. She froze in response, willing her heart to stop its painful thud; surely the wolf could hear it, and she knew it could smell her fear like some sweet perfume on the air. Then it did something completely unexpected; it stepped down, off of her thighs, standing its hind legs between them, before dropping its hips and rubbing a slender erection against her bare bottom.

Her grey eyes flew open wide then shut tightly as it began grinding itself against her soft flesh, grunting horribly all the while. The front paws slipped off of her shoulders, landing in the dirt on either side of her head as it rubbed and rubbed, the erection slowly growing thicker, more familiar; the grunts become deeper, but less animalistic. The smell of the creature moving so eagerly against her changed as well; it went from a deep musky scent to something sharper, cleaner but no less intimidating. Bolstering her courage, Brianna managed to open her eyes, shocked to see tan hands beside her head instead of the ruthless paws.

She stifled a small, hysterical squeak as one of the hands disappeared and she felt her legs being further spread. The man above her, and he was a man, no doubt about it, angled himself as he drew her hips up just a fraction and plunged into her surprisingly wet and slick interior, burying himself to the hilt. Their voices mingled in a strangled cry, twenty fingers digging into the dirt as he began to slowly withdraw from her warm folds. He was panting heavily above her, murmuring something in a language she couldn't understand; it was rough and fluid all at once, soft and harsh, as were his actions.

He had run a surprisingly tender hand down her back, slipping around to her front to cup one of her generous breasts, squeezing softly. Then she felt his mouth clamp down on her shoulder, teeth biting into her flesh hard enough to draw flesh blood, making her cry out. His hips, slender she could feel, began pounding out a hard rhythm in and out of her. Seemingly unsatisfied with her lack of response, the hand that wasn't busy fondling her breast eagerly, slid down her front, pressing down on her swollen feminine mound. He began rubbing in a circular motion until her breathing became a heavy pant and her throat issued a series of helpless cries, whether for him to stop or go on, she could no longer tell. One of his fingers, thick and calloused, slid inside her, rubbing her clit softly at first, then harder and harder, as Brianna's moans grew louder and more frequent. Her hips, traitorous hips!, began to rise in fall in time with each hard thrust, his shaft sliding smoothly and firmly in and out of her.

Her attention was abruptly shifted back to her breast as he gave a sudden tug on it, fingers pinching at the swollen pink nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. To her surprise, she found her own hand rising to pull at her unclaimed breast, pinching and pulling at the nipple until it was as hard a peak as the other. He growled his pleasure in her ear, sending a series of shivers down her spine. His mouth then once more latched onto her shoulder, sucking on the wound he had made earlier; the tip of his tongue darting out to flick the edges of the scrapes, eagerly drawing more, fresh blood forth.

With every powerful thrust of his hips, every inch he gained inside her, she cried out, until her voice was ragged from the strain. Another finger was added to the one circling and rubbing her clit, and the two began gently pulling on it, tugging it and rubbing it with a ruthless abandon. A warmth seemed to be just on the brink of exploding inside of her and she let out a hoarse cry, barely registering his own shout of pleasure as she dimly felt him shoot his seed inside her.

And then she had woken. The fear had driven back the arousal that had been upon her, but now, laying safe and warm on her squeaky, stiff bed, she felt her breathing become a little ragged, eyes glazing slightly. As she twisted in bed and flung back her covers, she could feel a dampness in her underwear. Brianna closed her eyes, her hand drifting down towards her swollen, aching mound. She was getting hot, so very hot! She tossed her covers off, fingers flicking tentatively over her arousal. Her breath caught, the gentle sensation seeming to pierce right through her. She began to rub herself desperately, one hand going to squeeze her own breast through the thin material of her shirt. Her hips began bucking in a steady rhythm as she tried to finish her orgasm, feeling it building up so very, very close. Something was missing – no matter how hard or fast she rubbed, no matter how many times her skilled fingers flicked across her clit, she just couldn't come. She could have screamed her frustration to the walls, but was still alert enough to realize if she did, the old proprietress of the inn would come running and that would be rather bad, wouldn't it?

She was about to cover her face with a pillow to muffle a small scream, unable to hold back any longer, when the window to her room slid open and a ruffling noise let her know someone had entered. She jolted bolt upright, hands flying to her sides. With flushed cheeks and wild grey eyes bright with passion, she looked like an untamed creature of the forests; something long forgotten in the modern world of machines and technology.

No more than three feet from her stood a man that looked no less tame. He was tall, well over her own petite 5'2"; probably over six feet. She stared at him in wonder, too shocked to do anything but take in his form. He was tanned; even in the dull glow of the moonlight she could see the golden sheen to his skin. He had a mop of curly black hair that hung nearly to his broad shoulders. His jaw was square-cut and strong with a hint of a beard showing through, a five o'clock shadow. His nose was straight, not too wide, but a little long. His lips—god, his lips!—were lush and sinfully kissable. A fine misting of dark hair spread across his broad, masculine chest, dipping low on his belly. It was then she realized he was naked, and rather happy to be there, watching her with the oddest eyes; they were bright amber in color, a shade akin to gold. In fact, they reminded Brianna oddly of the wolf from her nightmare...

She let a small, hysterical squeak out as she realized his eyes were very nearly identical to the wolf's. He grunted lightly at her squeak, furrowing his thick but well shaped black brows together, as if upset. "I will not harm ye," he murmured, deep voice husky and thick with an accent she was growing accustomed to. He held a hand out towards her, palm up, signaling that he meant peace. The look in his eyes, though, was anything but peaceful; it was dark, promising heat and a fiery passion she was certain to never forget. Her body responded to that look, blood heating, even as her heart slammed in her chest in fear. What was wrong with her that she still felt an ache so strong she was on the brink of madness?

"What are you doing here?" she managed the words, her voice lower and hoarse with the effort it took to not only speak, but to simply form coherent thought. God! She would go crazy if she couldn't finish herself off soon!

He took a step nearer the bed, both hands raised now, advancing slowly so as to not startle her. "I'm here for you, Brianna."

She bit her lower lip, staring at his mouth as it moved. To feel those silken lips on her skin would be heaven. Then his words registered and she blinked, eyes refocusing on his own. "Wait, what? How do you know my name?" She should be outraged by this, scared as hell, but she was oddly curious. Honestly, what was wrong with her?

His luscious lips twitched upwards at the corners. "I know much about ye, Brianna," the way he said her name sent shivers up and down her already trembling spine. "My name is Keir, in case ye were wonderin'."

His slow smile made her heart leap in anticipation, then again as his eyes raked over her form; her rolling hips with a small waist; her night shirt, pressed tightly against her full breasts; the black panties that barely covered her swollen, tender feminine mound. He grunted softly, his long, thick erection curving up towards his belly button in a perfect arch. Her eyes fluttered as she imagined herself running the tip of her tongue along the underside of it, gently taking the tip into her warm mouth to kiss and suckle. She shook her head, trying to clear the all-too potent image.

"Why," she tried to say, but found her voice gone. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Why do you know about me? And how?"

A fierceness appeared in his gaze that hadn't been there a moment before. "I know because ye are mine, Brianna. I felt the moment you were brought into this world and I've been searchin' for ye," he chuckled here, giving a small shake of his tussled head. "I didna know ye might be American. It took me a verra long time to find ye, my dear. Ye are the last link I have to this land, the only thing that holds me soul to this land. I've been fading since the last of me children died here, in 1773."

She stared at him, trying to comprehend what he was saying, finding her arousal making thinking very hard indeed. "You...what? Your children? In 1773? How old are you?" She shouldn't believe him, but she found herself doing so, against her better judgment. What he was saying was crazy, and yet...it rang true in her heart.

"Och, I'm old enough; much older than ye could understand. And yes, my children; the wolves, my dear. I believe that's why ye were born where ye were; your land still has them, no?"

Brianna nodded, grey eyes locked to his deep amber ones. She swallowed hard, once again drawn to the beauty of his mouth. "But...what am I to you? Why am I 'yours'? Why do I hold you here?"

The look of fierceness returned to his beautiful eyes, mouth curving in a smile that tempted her. "Because, ye are the other half of me; don't ye feel it?" He took another step to her, now his legs pressed to the side of the twin bed.

She felt something, that was for sure. Looking at him, standing so proudly in his naked splendor, how could she not? How could she not be drawn to him, want to touch him and take him inside of her? She had never felt this way before, not about anyone or anything. She licked her suddenly dry lips; a quick movement of her tongue that drew his gaze to her mouth, making his arousal harden further, the erection jerking in response. She made a small noise in the back of her throat as she stared at him, so very close to her face. Instinctively, unable to stop herself, she reaching out and wrapped her hand firmly around his base, gasping at the feel of the silken iron. He threw his head back, letting out a loud groan as his hips thrust forward; her touch was maddening!

"No," he said stiffly, drawing himself out of her delicious palm, his filled with something close to panic. If she touched him like that again he would lose control and take her without her understanding, and she needed to understand that once they melded together, bodies joined as one, it would be over and final; she would be his for an eternity. Not only his, but they would never be able to be apart. In order to stay planted firmly in this world, they would merge slightly, the boundaries of their minds becoming blurred and drawn together. They would hear the other's thoughts, unless shielding, and feel what the other felt.

Brianna stared at him, driven hard by lust, reaching for him again, the urge to touch him overcome her every sense. "No!" he said more forcefully, taking her by the shoulders and holding her at arms' length. "Ye must not till I tell ye what is to happen! Ye feel that ye are mine and I yours, yes?" his voice was a low hiss in the dark night.

"Yes," she said, staring into his eyes, her own wide with surprise and need. How could he stand there, thinking when she was going mad?

"Ye feel we must join soon, or else ye will go right insane, yes?"

"Yes! Yes, dammit, yes!"

He nodded at this, jaw clenching. "I feel it too, Bri, but ye must agree knowing in full the terms of our joining. Ye and I will come together in more than body; our minds will be forever linked. Ye will be mine truly and I yours; nothing shall deny us each other, not even ourselves." At her blank look he gave her a little shake. "Do ye understand? Tell me ye understand!"

She glowered at him fiercely, the throbbing between her legs a constant demand. "I understand, Keir! I need this! I want you! Right now!"

He let out a shaky breath, his hold relaxing slightly. "Ye need to know that ye will not age past this day. Ye will live with me in the wilds until Eire is naught more, ye understand?"

Eire she knew to be one of the words for Ireland in the native tongue. She nodded at him mutely, her grey eyes glassy with need, lips just barely parted.

"Then ye know all ye need, and ye accept and want this?"

She could have screamed at him and pounded on his chest until he agreed to have her. "I accept, I accept! I want this! I want you!"

Keir smiled something fierce, a look of triumph in his golden gaze as he forced her abruptly down onto her back, one strong knee forcing her legs apart with an urgency she could only respond to. With a few quick, almost violent yanks, he had her shirt off of her and her breasts exposed to his eager, heated gaze. It was completely surreal to her! Keir, a man Brianna was sure she had been having dreams about, decides to invade her room one stormy night with the intent on claiming her, making love to her, and yet she rejoiced in the knowledge; she felt a strong connection to him that had no logic and no words to describe: it simply was.

His tongue on the tip of her breast brought her back to the present as it flicked back and forth over one taut nipple. She let out a hiss of breath she hadn't realized she had been holding and cradled his slightly damp (probably from climbing up to her window in the rain) head to her as his mouth latched hungrily to her breast, sucking and pulling, his tongue flicking back and forth rapidly all the while; she could have cried at the sensation of it. His hand moved to her other breast and squeezed gently; much more delicate were his ministrations to this one than was his mouth on the other. His thumb began feathering back and forth over the nipple, drawing it into a peak before rolling it over and over again between his thumb and forefinger.

Keir's free hand dipped down between her thighs and hastily tore the thin underwear off of her, leaving her form as naked as was his. She shuddered, hips bucking upwards against his in an eagerness that bordered on madness. If she didn't have relief soon, she would burn! Keir bit down on Brianna's breast in reprimand as the hand that had been disposing of her panties pushed down on her hips to still her, having to fight her struggles with little difficulty. He released her breast with a slow reluctance, his amber wolf eyes, so completely alien in his inhumanly beautiful face, locked onto her own foggy grey ones.

"If ye are not still, woman," his voice was a low growl that tugged on things low in her stomach, the heat between her legs building, "I will not be able to get in ye." To emphasize his point, he pushed down on her hips, forcing her body further into the stiff mattress. She bit her lip in response, allowing him to hold her still as she tried to slow her breath from the quick pant it had been to something more stable. "Ach," he said, spine shivering in pleasure as he parted her legs further, exposing her entrance to his heavy erection, "much better."