Chapter Two
She’d heard it. She was certain she had. Something had snapped. And just a few feet away. Her heart began thundering inside her chest.
Royla turned her head to look toward the dell. The two guardsmen had stood up. They were peering into the forest. Had they heard it too? Could they sense it?
The sight of them sent a shiver racing down her back. Had they not been standing there, it would have been possible that one of them had made the noise. As it was, that could not be. It had to have been something else. Or someone else.
Her mouth fell open to call out to them. A moment before she shouted, she thought better of it. Perhaps it was just something small. Everything always sounded so much larger in the woods. Maybe it was a rabbit or a squirrel. Something harmless.
But her body wouldn’t let her believe it. She had to fight to bring herself to move at all. The earth and the air seemed to be holding her in place. She turned to look the other way.
Her eyes met nothing but the dark green shadows of the deeper forest. Suddenly her blood was hot, coursing through her veins. Her muscles were tense, ready to spring to one side or the other if the something revealed itself.
The basket she’d been holding fell from her hands. The sound of it landing on dried branches and leaves crackled through the cool air between the trees. The two handfuls of berries she’d managed to pick spilled out, some of them splitting and oozing their sweet red juice onto the forest floor.
Royla cursed herself for being so careless. All that work for nothing. A finger of calm wormed its way into her mind.
“I’m being ridiculous,” she whispered as she shook her head.
She began to explain it all away. The forest made all sorts of sounds.
She’d just been so absorbed in finding the rootberries it had been easy to ignore.
This sound had just been louder than the rest. That was all. Wolves didn’t hunt during the day.
Taking a deep breath, she willed her trembling hands lower. She picked up the basket and closed her eyes, grateful to have something to hold onto again. Something that was real, not the paralyzing fear she was trying to quell.
A few moments later and with the berries that could be saved safely inside the basket again, her breathing returned to normal. She sighed and smiled, chiding herself for being on such an edge. Wolves indeed!
The hand that wrapped around her mouth stifled the scream that came tearing up from her belly. The ground came up against her cheek. She tried to push herself up, tried to make her legs kick but they, too, were held in place.
The thing, the terrible thing covering her mouth and pressing against her back was holding her down.
She tried to thrash her arms but soon found them pinned behind her back. Her hips were lifted. She gasped as the thin loincloth she was wearing fell away from her most intimate places.
And then a hungry hand was between her legs.
Her mind was spinning, frantic and shocked by her predicament. And yet her body was screaming something completely different.
Through the fear, through the blazing panic the attack had ignited, she felt something soften inside herself.
The hand was pressing against her opening. A strong, thick finger, almost like a claw, was gliding up and down her now dripping slit. It plied her folds apart, probing and insistent. It slipped into the mouth of her tight sex, causing her to moan.
Where were the guardsmen? Surely, they’d seen her? Surely, they were racing to her aid at this very moment?
She could hear nothing. Not their shouts, nor the whistle of their spears sailing through the air.
The finger dipped into her honeyed tightness again.
She shuddered at the hot pulse of pleasure that rushed up her spine from the intrusion.
The thing growled behind her.
Something swollen and hard came to press against her flower. A hot and throbbing thing, easily as thick as her wrist.
Through her struggling, through the frenzied, hopeless wriggling, she fought with her own waning will. Even as she knew she should be thinking no!, her body was betraying her. She opened her mouth to suck in a breath.
The musky damp scent of the thing’s palm invaded her senses. Her resolve wilted. Her body opened. Her voice still muffled by the paw, she nonetheless could not resist the words that bubbled up from her belly. “Oh, Gods of the mountain, yes!”
The swollen thing pierced her. It stretched her soft folds and made her moan again. It furrowed into her tunnel, stretching her with slick wet sounds.
Drowning in lust, Royla lifted her rump, impaling the thing deeper inside herself.
Another growl came rolling up her back, making her skin crawl in the most delicious way.
The thing kept sliding in, its thickness nearly breaking her.
Consumed by the sensation, Royla moaned again. “Oh, Gods, yes!” It felt so good inside her wet heat.
Her eyes popped open as the bulbous head of the thing came up against her end. In the periphery she saw the thing only as a dark shadow; a towering dark mountain of flesh, muscles rippling, nostrils flared, lips curled in a lusty snarl.
How can I be enjoying this?
She could not evade the pleasure coursing through her, just as she couldn’t evade the question.
As the muscle pulled out and began stabbing into her pussy, her cheek scraping along the forest floor as he lunged, Royla was unable to keep her hips from rutting back, her body trying to swallow the thick organ to its deepest place.
She began to quiver. Her toes curled. A hot ball of ache formed between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut tight. What was happening? What was happening to her body?
The growl that came next was louder and far more wild.
This only excited her more. Only caused the ball of ache to swell. Soon she was so full she thought she might burst. Surely her body would break from this?
Then it erupted. Hot and sticky and thick, it pulsed up her spine and drenched her mind, drowning her in ecstasy.
The thing grunted.
Royla felt the warm splatter of its release slathering her walls. The sensation was accompanied by another heady rush of lust and ecstasy. What was this feeling? It drowned her again. She seemed to leave herself, unable to perceive anything but her own pleasure.
She sailed over the crest of the exhilarating tightness gripping her body. Her hips bucked, her toes curling, fingers digging into the dirt, bracing herself against the thing rutting into her.
Only as the delirious pleasure began to ebb did her reason start to return. The thing, whatever it was, was inside her. Its softening member was still plying her softness, stretching her tight flower. A trickle of something ran out of her and dribbled down her leg.
Royla was suddenly overcome by shame and humiliation. How could she have let this happen? How could the guardsmen not have heard, not sensed something was wrong?
The creature’s swaying slowed, then stopped. It pulled its muscle from her body, groaning as it did.
Royla didn’t dare look back. Her cheek was still pressed against the ground, her bottom and most intimate place exposed to its leering eyes. Another swell of humiliation coursed through her, making her cheeks go hot and red. She dared not move as fingers of fear worked their way up her spine.
The silence around her was deafening. Her ears began to ring. She wondered if the creature had retreated back into the forest. She closed her eyes and counted to one hundred. Nothing happened. There were no sounds behind her.
After what seemed like an hour, she found the courage to lift herself up. Pressing against the cold, damp earth, she raised her body, still not daring to look behind herself. She looked forward, toward the glen. Her eyes widened, and her mouth fell open.
The guardsmen were nowhere to be seen. They were gone.
She froze at the sensation of strong fingers wrapping around the back of her neck. She was not alone. It was still there.
A moment later its hot breath was on her cheek.
Royla’s body began to shake with fear.
“You are mine, offering. You come with me.”
She opened her mouth to scream, to cry out for the guardsmen, tell them she was there. The only sound that came out was a breathless whimper.
* * *
The female barely weighed anything, slung over Thanred’s shoulder.
He walked easily through the woods, enjoying the sensation of her bottom rubbing against his cheek ever so often.
He tried to savor his recent release but found himself searching for the accompanying relief from the urge to copulate again.
Something was... different.
He’d sheathed himself inside a female and spilled his seed. Normally that would mean at least a day of peace from the gnawing need to breed again. This time something hadn’t worked the same.
A few moments after he’d removed himself from her tightness, he’d felt the feeling return. It was a hungry, greedy thing. It clouded his mind, invading every other thought he tried to have.
And now wasn’t the time to be distracted. He needed to find shelter. He needed to find food, if only for the human. They were delicate, brittle things.
Not like the Dranark. A Dranark hunter could go weeks in the wild without food and days without water. These humans needed to eat and drink daily.
Thanred saw a brighter light through the trees. He changed direction, making his way through the thick brush until he emerged into a clearing.
Good. I can get my bearings and decide which way to head next.
The important thing for him was that he had a vessel now. The offering was his, unless Dodlin got it in his pointy head to come hunting for him.
A part of him hoped he would. He would show that coward rat what a Dranark mistreated was capable of.
The sun felt good on his cheeks as he stepped into the clearing. The human squirmed on his shoulder, reminding Thanred that she was there. He dropped to one knee and sloughed her off his arm, letting her stand before him.