Taming The Wolf

Chapter 6

Bran strode through the castle corridors. The day's duties had kept him occupied, but his thoughts constantly drifted back to Aoife. As he approached her chamber, her scent wafted through the air, an intoxicating blend of lavender and honey. The fear had faded considerably.

He paused at the door, his hand hovering over the handle. Taking a deep breath, he steeled himself before entering. The sight that greeted him nearly took his breath away. Aoife stood by the window, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. The emerald gown hugged her curves, accentuating her fiery hair that cascaded down her back in an intricate braid. She turned at the sound of his entrance, her hazel eyes widening slightly.

Bran's wolf stirred within him, urging him to claim what was his. He clenched his fists, willing himself to remain in control.

"I trust you're settling in well?" His voice came out rougher than intended.

Aoife nodded, a small smile gracing her lips. "Yes, thank you. Brigid has been most helpful."

Bran took a step closer, drawn to her like a moth to flame. "The dress suits you."

A blush crept across Aoife's cheeks, and Bran found himself captivated by the way it highlighted her porcelain skin.

"I wanted to ensure you had everything you needed," he said, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. "Is there anything else I can provide for your comfort?"

Aoife's gaze met his, a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn't quite decipher. "You've already done so much. I'm not sure how I can ever repay your kindness."

Bran's wolf growled at the thought of repayment, but he pushed it down. "Your safety is all the payment I require."

He moved closer, unable to resist the pull between them. The scent of her filled his senses, threatening to overwhelm him.

Bran's gaze lingered on Aoife for a moment longer before he gestured to a pair of chairs near the hearth. "Shall we sit?"

Aoife nodded, and they moved to the chairs. Bran lowered himself into one, his eyes never leaving her as she gracefully took the seat across from him. The firelight danced across her features, casting a warm glow on her skin.

"I hope you've found the castle to your liking," Bran said, his voice low and rumbling. "It's not often we have... guests."

Aoife's fingers traced the intricate patterns on the armrest. "It's beautiful. So different from what I'm used to."

Bran leaned forward, curiosity piqued. "Tell me about your home, Aoife. What was life like before..."

He trailed off, not wanting to remind her of the circumstances that brought her here.

Aoife's eyes grew distant, a mix of fondness and sadness flickering across her face. "It was... simpler. My father's keep was nothing like this. We lived close to the land, to nature."

Bran nodded, understanding. "And your people? Your family?"

A shadow passed over Aoife's features. "My mother died when I was young." He observed a flicker of pain cross Aoife's face as she continued. She spoke of her father with a mix of affection and resentment, describing how he viewed her more as a political asset than a child. Bran listened intently as she explained her father's habit of using her as bait for potential alliances, constantly hinting at marriage prospects to unite their realms. Aoife's tone turned bitter as she acknowledged her awareness of the situation, recognizing that her father sought wealth but hadn't yet found a suitor willing to pay a high enough price for her hand.

Bran's fists clenched at his sides, his wolf bristling at the thought of Aoife being treated as a mere pawn. He forced himself to relax, not wanting to frighten her.