Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Wolf
R eality intrudes into the high of claiming Fawn. A hail from my pack leader greets me when I shift to my wolf form to carry her home.
“The bastard is still here. He is the leader of all the fucking herds and has alliances with the centaurs. A point he lamented in an overly bold way. If I didn’t think it would start a war, I’d have already punched the smug bastard in the face. I strongly suggest that you impress upon him your claim with Fawn, assuming you have actually told the lass now, and find a diplomatic way to send him on his way.”
Fuck!
I take her to her home, put her down inside, bolt the door, and brace myself for the conversation that must be had.
“There is a stag in the village,” I say bluntly. “He will not fucking go.”
She blinks at me a few times. The lass is naked and smells of me. This is very fucking distracting, so I stalk over to her dresser and rummage for some clothes. I fucking hate these pants and shirts she favors. I want to rip them all up and replace them with a dress, as it will provide better access to her hot cunt. But today, I like that they cover her up.
“Oh, what are you doing?”
Her protest accompanies me shoving her into the offensive clothes.
“Hush, lass. I cannot think straight while you are naked and will likely rut you again before we can have this important conversation.”
“What do you mean by stag?” She is meek, nibbling on her lower lip as I close the buttons on her shirt.
I hate myself just a little more as each closed button removes her delectable flesh from my view.
“A lordly, stag bastard. The one I mentioned before you ran, enticing my wolf to chase. Shaking your cute little doe tail like an offering…” Do not think about her tail now. “The one who received a letter from your late mother. The one who wants to make you his queen… The one who is refusing to leave, even though I told him straight that you were mine, who insists on seeing you, lest we are keeping you here against your will.”
A long silence greets my words, and my heart thumps in my chest. I feel a little sick. Her expression is one of deep guilt, and I cannot work out what the fuck that means.
“I am not interested in another male,” she finally says.
Why do I get the impression she is, despite her words, curious about this stag and maybe lying? I feel the threat lingering in the air, the threat of one of her own kind, spiriting her away.
“Let me see him,” she says. “So I can explain I’m not here as a prisoner.”
Instinct tells me this is a bad fucking idea, but I’m not in my right mind, and so I relent. I have a bad feeling Seven will not fucking go without seeing her, either way. I order Clay and Glen to escort the bastard here. Then, with my instincts still rioting, I do what I absolutely do not want to do: open the door to her cottage and escort her out to where he waits.
The stag bastard stands only a few paces from the door with Clay and Glen in wolf form at his side.
“Oh,” she says, all fucking meek and blushing to the roots of her hair.
The bastard is naked. Why the fuck did I not remember this?
“Hello, little one,” he says, smiling benevolently down at her.
“I’m terribly sorry you came all the way over here,” she says. Her eyes slide to me briefly before they swing straight back to him like they are subject to a magnetic force.
“No trouble at all.” His smile is warm and genuine as if he only thinks of her welfare and is not a predator homing in on prey.
Her aroused scent suddenly perfumes the air…
“Put some fucking clothes on,” I bark.
Fawn starts.
Seven arches one golden brow and pats himself down in a slow, deliberate way that draws Fawn’s eyes to his considerable masculine assets, tracking his every move—her blush deepens.
The bastard is putting his stall out while I am standing right here!
His expression is one of feigned innocence. “I traveled light and forgot to pack any clothes.”
“I am used to males in a state of undress,” Fawn says, pink-cheeked and pretty, her arousal blooming stronger with every passing moment and clogging the rational part of my mind. “I have lived with shifters all my life. Would you like a cup of tea? I also have some honey cake.”
What the fuck? This is not sending him on his way. A few blunt words along the lines of “I am not a prisoner, now fuck off” would have sufficed.
“I am sure Master Stag” —bastard golden balls— “is very busy,” I say. Also, I need to get him away from you.
“That would be wonderful, little one,” Seven says, ignoring me. “I should be delighted to take tea with you.”
He steps forward, takes her hand in his, and walks her past me into the cottage. As they reach the door, he glances back over his shoulder and smirks at me.
Clay looks to me for direction. I jerk my head toward the trees. I have likely already drawn enough gossip from the pack and don’t need any fucking more.
“You are a lot bigger now,” she says, moving to put the water on to boil while I stand in the doorway fuming.
I roll back the words… Bigger? When the fuck did she meet him before?
The sense of danger in their interchange hits me with the force of a runaway boulder.
“I was a young stag when we met last, only thirteen—I have grown since then.”
“Wow,” she says, her eyes wide. She places plates, forks and slab cake on the table with a knife beside it. Her sweet scent follows her movements—the bastard’s nose twitches. “You were already so big.”
The fuck! My wolf begins to prowl, urging me to shift and rip the fucker apart.
“My lineage can be traced back to the very first stag shifter born of an omega fairy and Cernunnos, the god of nature,” he says, making himself at home and sitting down at the table—at least his dick is out of sight. “We are all built thus in our herd, especially those of the royal line.”
My snort is disparaging. The stag bastard issues me a haughty fucking glare.
I sit down at the table. “I am surprised your stall has not collapsed under the weight of the wares you have put on display.”
I catch his brief smirk before he turns back to Fawn, taking the teapot from her hands and drawing her to sit between us, although she has yet to collect the cups.
I growl.
He ignores me.
Fawn sends me a nervous glance, and her fuck-me scent reaches fever pitch setting my dick salivating even as my claws spring and embed in the edge of the table.
I will not spill blood in her late parents’ home, and that is the only thing keeping my control.
“You will find our herd much more congenial than this rustic pack,” Seven continues, still holding her fucking hand, going so far as to pet it. “Your every need shall be tended to.”
“Oh,” she says, slowly taking her hand back, which makes me feel instantly calmer. “But I cannot come back to the herd with you. Not now I have” —she looks to me— “mated Wolf.”
She blushes sweetly. I take her other hand and purr. Good, that has set the bastard straight. Now he can finally fuck off.
“Mated,” Seven says, his nose wrinkling in distaste. “Your pack leader mentioned it had not been consummated yet when I left his residence a short time ago. But I do scent his seed all over you—wolves often lack finesses and can have trouble with simple matters such as finding the appropriate hole.”
The bastard is lucky I do not plant my fist against his golden, chiseled jaw.
“But no mind,” he turns back to Fawn, bestowing her a benevolent smile. “It is acceptable, if unusual, for you to take a wolf as your first mate.”
“First?” she asks, blinking slowly like she is confused.
I am similarly fucking confused, so much so that my dick goes down, which is for the best since I sense I will need to battle him imminently.
“Of course,” he continues. “You are an omega, Fawn. A doe shifter at that, descended from a fairy. Rarity and nature generally lend to your kind accumulating courtiers beyond your mate or mates. Fae omegas of all kinds are extremely lusty and require a lot of tending. Our finest warriors will have leave to woo you for your favor, whether that is part of permanent mate bonds or for when you come into season.”
Fawn’s mouth hangs slack.
Realizing I am doing the same, I snap my jaw shut with a click. My dick is very fucking confused between retreat in the face of battle and curiosity about her season.
“Outside, now,” I growl, scraping my chair back and storming for the door, not waiting to see if he follows.
“Oh, please don’t hurt him, Wolf.”
“Fear not, little one,” Seven says. “Wolves are pack fighters and rarely effective alone. I shall be careful not to unduly wound your first mate should we get into a scuffle.”
Gods, he is annoying.
He follows me outside. I shut the door and jerk my head to the side, indicating we should move off the fucking steps.
“The fuck is wrong with you,” I say the moment we are away from her home, rounding on him and barely tempering the urge to thump the fucker. “Fawn is innocent. You will terrify the lass, coming in with talk of lust, many mates, and fucking courtiers for when she comes into season!”
“She cannot be that innocent.” He smiles coolly. “She is smothered in enough of your seed to choke me. It did not escape my notice that your scent is likewise all over the table. Do you heathens not believe in using a bed?”
I smirk at the table reference, then shrug. “It was of a handy height. She is a brat. I’m not sure how she survived this long given her propensity for putting herself in danger.”
He smiles. It is the first one directed at me that reaches his eyes. “Yes, I know.”
“Know?” What the fuck does he know.
“I also know that her scent has not changed, even though you have bedded her. And you know what that means.”
“She has not yet gone into heat,” I say.
“Season,” he corrects. “And what will you do with her when she does? What do you know of tending to a doe shifter in her moment of need?”
I know fuck all. He knows I know fuck all. He can read it on my face. His expression turns smug.
I plant my fist in his face.
He staggers back and giant antlers sprout from his head.
Fuck. He’s a big bastard… with a hard head.
He rolls out his neck and the antlers shimmy before disappearing. “Do not rouse my stag, pup. Lest I be forced to teach you your place.”
Gods, I must be ten years older than him, and he is calling me a pup!
My anger drains. I sigh heavily. “I should not have punched you.”
“No, you should not,” he agrees.
Fawn
I should not be listening at the door, but I cannot help myself. Peering through the window yields nothing, for they have moved out of my sight. There are no sounds of a scuffle, as Seven referred to it, but maybe they are being quiet about it.
“…should love to see her in that form…” That is Seven.
“…very fucking presumptuous…” That is Wolf.
“… scent has not changed… And you know what that means…” That is Seven.
What does it mean?
A growl that I recognize as Wolf’s. “…heat…”
“Season,” Seven replies firmly.
Season? He mentioned season earlier, too. I mean, I knew that from my mama. Once a year, she would travel away from home. Papa stayed with me, and I hated it.
An unsettling awareness blooms.
Only now do I realize what she was doing—going away so that Papa could not get her with child.
The pain that grips me is sharp and sudden. Was I a mistake? No, there was never any doubt that they loved me. Oh, how much trouble I brought them with my propensity for mischief and shifting when I should not. How frightened they must have been and perhaps worried about the risks of having another babe.
I slide down onto my knees and put my head in my hands. The tears fall as I think about the brother or sister I might have had, a little deer or wolf shifter who would have been my forever friend. Stags are bold, they are predators and protectors.
Does are prey.
I do not belong here among wolves, and while I tell myself Flint would have treated us with respect, just as he did thinking Mama and me were human, we could never shift while living here.
It is a half-life at best.
The door swings open suddenly, and two huge males crowd around me.
“Look what you've done, asshole,” Wolf curses, lifting me into his arms, where I cling, sobbing.
“Me? Fawn was in a happy frame of mind until you demanded we have words,” Seven growls back.
“Oh, please don’t argue,” I beg. “I have come to a decision.”
They both freeze.
“I cannot stay here. Never able to shift. Always fearing. What if I had a little doe babe, and she was only playing with wolf pups, and they got confused? My mama never had another child. She always went away when she came into season. I cannot bear to live like that. She loved my papa, but they always had to hide, just as they hid me!”
“You will not need to fucking hide, lass,” Wolf growls. “I am the pack enforcer and will kill any fool who does not treat you with respect. As if I would not care for you when you come into season? As if would let you or our children live in fear?”
“It’s not about you,” Seven says coldly. “Nor what makes you comfortable. It is about what is best for Fawn. If she says she wishes to be among her own kind. We ought to respect that. If you love her, as you just claimed to do, you will bear the discomfort for you a powerful wolf and your shoulders are broad.”
I lift my head to peer back at Seven, feeling Wolf’s arms tremble where they hold me. There are many parts to what was just said that vie for attention: that wolf loves me, that he told Seven this, that for me to feel safe, he must leave his pack for me.
The problem is too great, the push and pull too strong, and in many directions. “I hate the thought of you leaving your life here for me,” I say quietly. “I want to trust that I could live here, but I also have a lifetime of my mama and papa and how they chose to hide, and it creates a source of great conflict in my heart. Today, many things have become apparent that perhaps should have been so before. I never wanted to return to a herd, and I have no knowledge of life in one. I don’t even know how my mama met my papa, nor why they chose a wolf pack for their home.”
Wolf cups my face. I see conflict, but also worry in his eyes. “I love you, Fawn. I have done so for some time. But I was too pigheaded to admit it even to myself and placed many prejudices and obstacles in my way. This pack, my role here, has been my life, but I’m not a young man, and that offers me much, including perspective. What if something happened to me? My life is not without dangers, and being the pack enforcer comes with more than its share.”
I go to speak, but he shakes his head.
“This is a lot. It is also sudden. But I am also a man who knows his mind. I would go with you if you would have me. I would follow you. I would gladly take on the burden of being an outsider, and without hesitation—I would do anything that would make you happy.” He lifts his eyes from me and glares over my shoulder. “I would even put up with Seven.”