FOUR
FOUR
I freeze at the brush of her lips, all of me intent on the softness of her plump lips against my snout. The absurdity of her kissing me . A monster.
Yet before I can react, her arms latch around my neck, and she pulls me onto her, collapsing us both in the grass. All I can do is melt at the demand in the move and the surprising strength in her arms. Since that first questing touch in my shelter, I have been starving for this.
No. No, this has gone on for longer than a few hours. Since the first day I spotted her traipsing through my wood, she has incensed me, drawing me from my duties to follow her, seeking reasons to speak with her, see her face, and hear those teasing words. I hungered for this the moment I laid eyes on her, and now she lies beneath me.
A gift. A feast for me to devour.
The tip of her tongue flicks against my lips, and I open for her, all too aware of my teeth. Fear sparks in the back of my mind, but Czerwony navigates my fangs as easily as if she were born to this. The first sweep of her tongue fills my mouth with an indescribable taste. Painfully alive, a warm salty-sweet I immediately want more of. I drive my knee, trapped between her legs, into the grass, claws puncturing the earth as I bear down and return the kiss.
I am not skilled, I am not experienced, but I have lingered in the shadows behind the village tavern enough times to gain an idea of how this all works. The men there crowd their women, but only after a dance similar to the teasing one between Czerwony and me. They nuzzle their women’s necks and nip the skin. They cradle their cheeks and kiss them as deeply as they drink from their tankards.
I do all of that now and more. Whatever whim pops into my mind, whatever bit of flesh I wish to nip or lick, I do so, and Czerwony bares her throat to me.
She moans when I drag my fangs across pebbled flesh and brings my face back to hers for another kiss and another, drawing my tongue into her mouth. Its coarse breadth tangles with the silken stretch of hers, and stars burst behind my eyes when she licks the roof of my mouth, sucking my tongue and working her fingers into the coarsely cropped hair at my nape.
“Fenra,” she pants when I relinquish her mouth. My name has never sounded more lovely than it does in her mouth. Coarse and ragged, half-growled and colored with need. Czerwony wriggles beneath me, her thighs latching around my leg. I lave her throat, and she rocks her hips, releasing a high, tight whine. I jerk my head up at the sound, a mixture of submission and need that has a fire blazing within me.
My desire is unignorable. I want her. Pinned in the grass, latched to my arms and legs. Crying my name loud enough to frighten the monsters away.
Czerwony grinds against my thigh, the roll of her hips increasing along with the delicious sounds she makes. My gaze travels the length of her body, and only now do I recognize that she is bare beneath her cloak. A plump breast and peaked nipple peer out from the cloth, trembling as she writhes. I swallow a mouthful of saliva, refusing to drool over her like a dog, and with a shaking hand, I sweep the rest of her cloak aside.
She is so beautiful I could weep. A sweet waist tapers above sturdy hips, the soft swell of her belly bunching as she grinds. Her thighs, thick and moon-pale, grasp my leg as she steals the pleasure I am grateful to give. Instinct drives my head down to her breast, and I take her nipple between my lips, sucking gently.
The sound that flies from her throat is sheer music. Her nails drive into my back, her legs clenching tighter around my thigh, and so I do it again, adding to her pleasure until my name leaves her lips once more.
Breathy and wild, she barks it to the night sky, clinging to me as her body tremors in a come-down I can only imagine.
Just as quickly as she trembles her sigh, Czerwony is moving again. Her hands fly to my front, unbuckling my belt and tugging the laces of my stolen shirt. Her palms brush my nipples, and a foreign sensation strikes like lightning down my spine. I gasp, and Czerwony pauses, wild eyes catching mine. Her smile is lupine, and while I am distracted by the sight, she rips the cloth from my trousers. Linen tangles with my ears and flies away; she rushes upward, and warm lips press to my breast. I brace myself with one arm and snap the other around her, pinning Czerwony to my chest as pleasure overwhelms me.
My mind blanks as this wicked creature works my body. Sucking one nipple as her fingers work the other. Pinching and flicking, lightly grazing the peak with her thumb. Soon, sounds I have never before made eke out of my throat. High-pitched and needy, alerting every predator for miles around to our location.
I do not care.
All that exists is Czerwony and this bliss I have never before experienced. She drags her hand down my side, fumbling with the front of my trousers.
“Tear,” I snarl, dropping my head back. If she stops, gods and moon above, I will howl loud enough to frighten even the witch away. “Tear them.”
“Vicious,” she murmurs. Her fingers slip into my waistband, and with one solid yank, the thin weave splits. At the surprising show of strength, again, I whip my face toward her, taking in the creature nestled between my legs.
I am no longer certain she is just a girl, but what sort of monster she is evades me. All I know for certain is that she has bewitched me.
Lying back in the grass, moonlight strikes her auburn hair, tumbling loose over her shoulders to bleed into the deep scarlet of her cloak. Her luscious curves draw more saliva to pool on my tongue, and I linger too long on her breasts, aching to draw them into my mouth.
She does not shift under my hungry gaze, nor does she look away. Another lupine smile curves her lips. Slowly, she trails her fingers over my hip and across the top of my thigh, tickling the tightly grown fur. I shudder, and she continues the maddening path along the inside of my thigh, higher toward the crux of me.
A single stroke has my eyes rounding, and the delicious rasp of her voice saws my every nerve ending as she meets my gaze. “What big eyes you have.”
I cannot laugh, cannot move for fear that her touch will cease. Pleasure I have never known steals my every thought. When she strokes me again, splitting me with her finger, I fall forward, slamming a fisted hand in the grass. My elbow quakes, threatening to bend when she circles the peak of my sex. Sparks burst as pleasure coils deep in my belly.
“Have you done this before?”
All I manage is a shake of my head. Czerwony does not stop, but she moves away from the place that had me seeing stars.
“Is this too much?” she asks, stroking gently. “We can slow this down, Fenra. I do not wish to—”
“You do not frighten me.”
Again, that sad smile pulls at her lips. I hate it.
Bending my elbow, I steal her mouth in a kiss, forcing my tongue between her lips to sweep and suck until that sad smile is nothing but a memory. I have never wanted anything as much as I want her. Not my vows, not this wood. For all the years I have held my post, I know now that my purpose was to find her in this glade.
She must glean this from my kiss and the press of my hips, for she strokes me harder, teasing that place until I rock against her, seeking more of those clever fingers. My Czerwony, she abides, jerking away to again bare her throat as her finger presses inside of me. I gasp, burying my face in the crook of her neck, and a second finger spreads my lips, pressing against my walls and filling me with a bliss I cannot describe.
My fingers tremble. My toes curl, and the pressure in my belly grows tighter, hotter. She bends or crooks her fingers—truly, I do not know what she does, but I will demand a lesson later—and her palm presses against the peak of my sex, sending frissons of pleasure to add to the mess inside of me. I am too small for this sensation, too weak a vessel to hold all that is growing within me. My fangs find her neck, my tongue lapping against her pulse point as if I could drink her scent and make it my own.
I am aware that my hips rock, demanding more of her touch, and Czerwony grants me this gift. She cups my breast, sweeping the nipple with her thumb. The added sensation builds a tingle throughout my body, and with no warning, I explode.
Pleasure shoots to my extremities. I tear away from her throat as a vicious howl rips from my throat. Birds scatter from the trees, and the will-o-wisps blink out. I do not care who or what hears me, and neither, it seems, does Czerwony.
A dry laugh bubbles in her throat, and she guides me down to kiss her. This time, our embrace is soft and wondering—a slow sipping of lips and gentle nibbles. She strokes my back as I shiver against her, ending our kiss only to nuzzle her cheeks and kiss a sweet line down her throat. The place where I bit her is red and raw. Blood beads and draws ribbons over her creamy skin, blending perfectly with the red of her cloak.
The mark will bruise and scab. It will likely scar, and the thought fills me with an inordinate sense of pride—a sense of mine.
“Admiring your work?” Czerwony asks.
I lift my head to take her in, a wonder growing in me that is as foreign as every other sensation she granted my body.
“I think it may scar.”
Heat fills her eyes, and her cheeks flush. “Good.”
Kissing me sweetly, she untangles our legs and scoots away to stand. I follow, grabbing her arm as my legs shake beneath me, earning another wolfish grin. Emboldened, I draw her close, tucking the cloak over her shoulders before wrapping my arms around her.
“What sort of monster are you?” I ask when I am sure she cannot run away.
“Not a monster.” Czerwony ducks her head, looking to the side. “A familiar.”
The phrase, like so much of this evening, is a stranger to me. I draw a claw down her jaw, sweeping her hair behind her ear and waiting until she looks at me to venture my guess. “The witch?”
It would make sense. We stand in a circle of stone covered in witch-blessed runes, after all.
Czerwony nods. “She is too old to reach the village, and the villagers will not treat with …”
“With a wolf.” This I understand. It took years for me to gain what passes for their trust. “That was you in the wood?” Another nod and the pieces fall into place. I heard the soft padding of feet around my shelter as I slept and dreamt of her scent. “You kept my watch.”
“You were injured because of me.” She shrugs.
“But you are not a wolf.” I run my hands down her body to emphasize how unwolflike she is. My claws snag in the woolen cloak, and I recall what she sang when I entered the glade.
Away and gone at the end of night, hidden and cloaked from all in sight.
“Ah.”
It is no wonder she avoided the path and held no fear for the monsters in the woods. She is a creature of these trees and glades as much as I am. Kin to my kind, whatever I may be.
“I can only wear this form when I wear the cloak,” Czerwony explains. Her hand twitches toward the standing stones. “And the shift only occurs within the circle.”
“If I were to remove your cloak elsewhere?”
“I would be a wolf until I returned here to don my cloak.”
“Interesting.” The curiosity in my voice is unmistakable. Czerwony leans against my arms, studying me shrewdly. She should not be surprised. It is my duty to know what lurks in my wood. How else am I to warn the villagers and protect the beasts? “I think you know my next question, Czerwony.”
This time, her smile is bright and broad. I ease my arms away and hold out a hand for her cloak. Soft wool drapes over my arm, and before my eyes, she transforms. Her mane of auburn hair clings to her back and rushes down her arms and belly, her face elongating and body dropping forward. The wolf she becomes is large and graceful, a match to my own brute strength.
I gather the cloak in my hands, careful not to snag any more wool, and tuck it under my arm. She patters away as I crouch low, hesitating when I stretch out my hand for her to sniff. I wait, aching with the knowledge that her trust is fragile, especially in this form. There and then, I make a new vow—to earn and treasure her unwavering trust in whatever form she decides to take.
Slowly, Czerwony pads closer, sniffing my hand before sweeping her tongue across my palm.
I scruff her ears and run my hand down her back. Her fur is as soft as her skin, and she leans into my touch. A low whine builds in her throat, so I scruff her ears again and stand.
Czerowny bounds to her feet, yipping happily and prancing around me in a circle before sitting proudly. Her mouth falls open in a lupine grin, and I cannot help but smile at the sight before me. A phrase from my childhood surfaces from depths I refuse to swim. Words that must have been spoken whenever I did something good as a pup.
“My, Czerwony.” My Czerwony. I grin at her, playfully showing her my fangs, and she yips in reply, paws dancing. “What big teeth you have.”
A whisper crawls across my mind, less than a breeze through the trees bringing me her rasping, lovely voice.
All the better to eat you with.
Heat suffuses my body. I straighten, clearing my throat as Czerwony puffs her chest. She looks pointedly at the cloak in my arms, her meaning clear.
I waste no time in draping it across her back, and within mere moments, Czerwony tackles me to the ground.
THE END