Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Fawn
I don’t sleep all night thinking about Wolf and his plans to send me away. When I do dream, Wolf’s rejection gets all muddled up with a handsome young stag shifter, one I have not thought about in many years.
Seven was noble and polite, a sign of his character—he would not send me away to the human village, I am sure.
I’m cranky and out of sorts by the time dawn breaks. Completing my morning ablutions, I dress and go and milk the goat.
Blue sits beside me to watch what I do.
Afterward, I feed the chickens and collect a few eggs.
I spend some time in the vegetable patch, weeding the beds.
I’m in denial, don’t want to leave, and cling to the hope that a miraculous solution will present itself. If I don’t do anything to court Wolf’s wrath again, maybe this will all blow over. Although it breaks my heart that Wolf does not love me as I love him, the thought of never seeing him again is crushing.
My life is not playing out to my liking, so I conjure up a better scenario as I work, one where Wolf puts me over his knee… or Seven storms the village and claims me, leaving Wolf sorry and alone.
Which makes me think about the letter my mother planned to send a year ago now, and just before she died. At the time, I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving this home where I grew up, of leaving the memories of my papa—of leaving Wolf.
Now I question whether it would have been for the better after all.
Lost in my thoughts, I belatedly notice that the fence to the goat paddock is broken. Greta, my rebellious goat, is missing. This is the third time this week.
Blue is napping in the shade of a tree with his belly in the air. “You are a poor guard dog!” I say, thoroughly disgruntled with both Greta and Blue… and Flint… and Wolf. I am in a bad mood all around. “Now we must find her before she gets into trouble!”
Collecting the leash, I stomp off into the woods, calling her name. She has likely gone to the meadow where she went two days ago.
Blue trots at my side. He enjoys going for a walk, occasionally dashing through the forest undergrowth to the left or right before looping around to me.
Greta is not in the meadow. I plant my hands on my hips and glare across the sweeping field as I call my goat.
My glare soon fades. There are real wolves in these parts. They do not venture close to the pack heart, but farmer Tully from the local village mentioned them taking a couple of his lambs.
“Come on, Blue,” I say. “We will check the pond.”
She is not at the pond. I call as I walk, annoyance giving way to a deeper worry with every passing moment.
The sun rises high and begins to sink again. Maybe she has gone home.
…And maybe she has gone to the castle ruin.
I pause my walk and shift from foot to foot, full of indecision. This is not Greta’s fault. I should have fixed the fence after her first escape instead of using a length of twine…which she ate.
Only Wolf will be cross if I go to the old castle. Then he will tell Flint that there is no hope and send me to the human village.
He may also be cross with me anyway if he finds out I have been searching for Greta all day. Maybe he’s just a mean, grumpy wolf shifter and will order me to be sent to the village anyway.
“I’m a grown woman,” I tell Blue, feeling a little of my spirit rise. “We will check the castle and then go home. We shall be quick about it. Wolf doesn’t need to know. And anyway, he is not the pack leader. Flint is, and Flint has said I may stay.”
He woofs in agreement. Blue would agree to anything, so I cannot read much into this.
We go to the castle ruins.
“Blehehehe!” Greta is pleased to see me. Her belly is so round that she waddles as she trots over. Silly goat has been gorging herself!
I put the leash on her, muttering curses as we take the forest path home at a brisk walk.
We have not gone far when I hear a rustle to my right—Blue woofs. A wolf lopes alongside us while another dashes off.
Shifters. Clay and Glen, if I am not mistaken.
Oops.
“I’m going to be in so much trouble, Greta, and it is all your fault.”
Wolf is standing outside my cottage in human form when I arrive, wearing naught but a pair of leather pants.
I’m tired, irritable, charged with righteous anger, and ready to defend my actions.
I am also feasting my eyes upon the resplendent male who ties my tummy in knots. His hair is tawny colored, much like his wolf coat, and reaches his shoulders in shaggy waves. His broad-chested, hair-dusted upper body is thick slabs of muscle that taper down ridges of his abs and disappear into his pants. He is tall in human form, even for a shifter, and carries himself with the confidence innate to all of his kind, further enhanced by his many years as a pack enforcer responsible for protection. Every inch of him is beautiful and whatever form he might take.
He takes Greta’s leash from me and orders Blue to the barn. My hound slinks off knowing trouble is brewing. “What have you got to say for yourself, lass.”
I jut my chin and try to recall all the clever words I planned during the long walk back. Unfortunately, my mind strays to thinking about being put over Wolf’s lap.
“I had to fetch Greta,” I say a little sullenly. “It was not my fault.”
A tic thumps in his jaw.
He thumbs toward the cottage door. “Inside now.” Then he stalks off to put Greta back into her paddock, one with a freshly repaired fence, I note.
I don’t go inside but take a meandering route in that general direction. Going inside feels like admitting that I have done wrong. I have not done wrong. All I did was retrieve my wayward goat.
I’m still outside, feeling increasingly mutinous when Wolf strides back toward me. Without a word, he bends forward, plants his shoulder against my waist, and tosses me over.
“What are you doing?!”
He stomps up the steps. The door slams, rattling into the jamb before he puts me down. The cottage is warm. He must have stocked the fire while waiting for me to return.
I gaze up into his beautiful blue eyes and swallow. “Oops.”
“Oops indeed,” he says. “Someone has been very naughty. Worse, you have put yourself in danger. I could have had a couple of pack members search for Greta; you know as much. Instead, you charged off into the woods with nothing but Blue for protection. What would have happened if a bear shifter had turned up?”
“I don’t know.” My confidence wanes under his disapproval.
“Blue would have been hurt, maybe died, trying to protect you, and you would have been snatched—pretty young lass out on her own. I do not claim to like the world we live in nor the predatory nature of the bear bastards whose lands adjoin ours, but it is what it is. There were also bandits spotted at the old castle only last week. You are cleverer than this, Fawn.”
I perk up a little that he called me pretty, but I also recognize that searching for Greta alone was not the best thought out plan. Worse, I have disappointed Wolf.
“I thought you were my good girl. I thought you were a sensible young lady who could be trusted to live on her own?”
No, I do not like the direction of his words. He is thinking about sending me to the village again, maybe putting his case to Flint more stringently.
Wolf
Fawn is a brat. How I restrained myself from pulling her pants down and petting her hot, slick cunt yesterday is nothing short of a miracle. She is too young, too human, too everything that I am not. It doesn’t help my determination to stay away when every unmated male in the pack has his eye on her… probably every young lad in the village, too.
I want to rip the eyes out of every one of the bastards.
I told myself she needed a husband. That was a lie—what she needs is a mate.
My hand itches as I think about connecting it with her plump, bare bottom in the way we both need.
Then there is her compelling, aroused scent. In the past, I convinced myself it was nothing more than a young lass who was naturally sensual. Yesterday, I could not pass it off as anything but arousal—directed at me and only me.
It is unusual for a human beta to respond so enthusiastically to an alpha wolf, but it is not unheard of. It was all I could do not to toss her among the furs she layers deep on her bedding nook and plow her sweet cunt.
She will need to be trained, I reason. That is not a problem. I am a patient male. She is hungry for dick, and I have one more than willing to serve her. Maybe after a good plowing, she will lose this rebelliousness that has increased of late.
What happened to my good girl?
She has turned into a bad girl who needs a firm hand.
There is a lot going through her pretty head. I see a myriad of emotions passing through her eyes.
Then her lips quiver. “Please do not send me away, Wolf. I should hate living in the human village.”
Her eyes—big, brown, pretty, and brimming with tears are my undoing.
Ah, fuck! As if I did not already recognize my looming fate, those tears hit me like a punch in the gut.
Fawn
“Come here.” He opens his arms, and I run to him.
Sitting on the side of my bed, he settles me on his lap. “I only spoke to Flint because I was worried about you. I’d have spent half my time checking on you at the damn village if you’d gone anyway, just in case you had tripped over your own shadow.”
Everything about this feels different. I’m on his lap—he’s not shouting at me. Further, I want to believe he regrets asking Flint to send me away. “You don’t need to worry about me,” I hedge, wanting to shift his attention from all the reasons I’m a calamity living on my own. “I’ll do better.”
“You will,” he says ominously. “And a firm discipline will help.”
I blink up at him, confused by this development when he seemed to be softening.
He smirks. I don’t think I have ever seen Wolf smirk like this before, full of teeth and wicked promise. He has always been so virtuous.
“Did you think those pretty tears would distract me from your correction?”
“I-I. No.” My protest is stringent. That was absolutely not what I was trying to do. Was it?
“No matter,” he says. “I have already determined that this discipline will be against your bare bottom. It did not escape my notice that you made a little mess last time.”
My cheeks flood with heat. I cannot think of a single thing to say in my defense.
“A perfectly natural reaction from a young, lusty lass being handled by a dominant male. I believe you shall be more comfortable and better able to concentrate on what I say if your bottom is bare.”
I shake my head vigorously, already feeling the telling pulse between my thighs at the mere mention of exposing my feminine place to Wolf, of him seeing how I react.
He sets me on my feet and nods his head expectantly. “There, now be a good girl for me, and take your boots, socks, and pants all the way off. Fold your clothes neatly and put them on your dresser. You may leave your shirt on today.”
Today?
I don’t move.
A whimper escapes my lips.
He leans forward and cups my cheek. It calms me in some ways and makes my heart race in others. He has not touched me like this before. An unexpected intimacy wraps around us, and the air crackles with an energy otherworldly in nature. He is going to spank me—on my bare bottom. He has said as much. The decision is made, one I sense he will not retract, no matter how I might plead.
I want to believe it means something, but my heart is racing so fast that I can’t think straight.
I step back, remove my shoes and socks, and stow them neatly on the floor beside my dresser. Then I pause, hands at my belt, wanting him to touch me, but also nervous about exposing myself like this. Maybe this doesn’t mean what I hope, and he just wants to shame me into being good for him.
“I do not have all day, lass.”
I glare over my shoulder at him. He growls. I snatch my pants and panties down and toss them in the direction of my dresser. They do not reach my dresser but land in a heap on the floor. My chest heaves. It’s hard to draw enough air. My shirt covers my ass, but it’s scandalously short.
“I suggest you pick up the clothes and place them neatly if you don’t want the punishment to be any firmer than I planned.”
A shiver ripples through me hearing his stern voice. I consider how easily he subdued me for my last punishment, the sting, the way it made my pussy throb… the way he became hard while doing it.
I’m growing damp and aroused, and he has not even started yet.
Schooling my face, I glance back over my shoulder, taking in the male who waits patiently on the side of my bed. He has ever been patient with me. Only tonight, Wolf is more than just a pack enforcer, and I am more than a pack ward.
His intense study makes me quake. It also makes me feel hot and reckless. So I do something out of character. Turning to face my dresser, I bend over at the waist to pick up my fallen clothes.