Werewolf



Atwood

 

I’m resentful at first of my bride’s reluctance to make love with me. All of my fantasies of ravaging her while she is still filthy and bloody from her little adventure, then bathing with her and making love again in the tub with soap all over her beautiful breasts, are cut short when she begins to show weakness. She wavers in her spot, seemingly dizzy, so I take her to the bath to help her relax after the long night and try to soothe the raging erection in my pants. 

 

My wolf wants her badly, and urges me to just take her now, in the bath. “No,” I tell him in my head, to which he responds with a pained growl. “I won’t take her like this.”

 

But as I’m washing her, she passes out and the bath water begins to turn red with blood.

 

I frantically call Doctor Yang using my mindlink, ordering him to come immediately despite his protests at the late hour.

 

I lift Ruby’s



Ruby

 

My dreams are full of horrible visions.

 

Blood covers my body.

 

Tamara’s sweet little face in front of me, so close I can reach out and touch her cheek, but then suddenly she is far away at the end of a long, dark tunnel.

 

“Ruby!” she screams. “Help me!”

 

I’m running through the tunnel as fast as I can, but she only gets further away until I can no longer see or hear her. I spin around, looking for an exit, but when I turn around, there is only a brick wall behind me.

 

I turn back toward where I was just facing.

 

Another wall.

 

I’m trapped.

 

The walls come closer, squeezing me. I look up to see the moon far above me. It’s full, and I can hear the howls of wolves. I try to howl too, to call for them to help, but no sound comes out.

 

When I wake, I’m covered in sweat.

 

Where am I?

 

The room is dark, lit only by a couple of candles on the bedside 



Ruby

 

When we arrive back at the castle, my sister’s barely alive body is whisked away from me before I have a chance to protest. I’m feeling weak again, and can only reach out for Tamara limply as her hand slips away from mine and the King’s guards take her away on a stretcher.

 

“Don’t worry,” the King whispers in my ear as he emerges from the car with me still in his arms. “Your sister will be taken care of.” His hot breath tickles my neck and his hands still gently stroke my waist. His touch excites me despite my weakened state.

 

Still, I cannot help but wonder if the King’s words are true. All my life, I have been taught that the Lycan King is a cold, calculating monster. How can I trust his words of reassurance? He could easily be lying to make me compliant.

 

But his body feels good against mine as he carries me into the castle.

 

He waves away a servant with one hand, easily carrying me in only his other arm as though I weigh nothing, and ascends the grand staircase to the chambers.

 

When the guards had first taken me here this morning to prepare for the wedding, they had discreetly slipped me in through a back door with a winding staircase that led up to my bridal chamber; no doubt to keep my appearance hidden from the King before our wedding. I hadn’t seen this grand entryway.

 

The inside of the castle is beautiful. High vaulted ceilings, tall stained glass windows, and ornate chandeliers. The floors are marble and the walls are made of dark gray stone that perfectly replicates all of the tales of castles that I had read in my fairytales growing up.

 

Now, I am the princess trapped inside the castle with a monster.

 

If he is a monster.

 

The King carries me to his chamber and opens the door, letting it fall shut as he brings me inside and sets me down on the chaise at the foot of the bed. He bends down and quietly unties my boots, then slips them off.

 

My pocket knife slides out of my boot onto the floor and he pauses, staring at it for a moment, before picking it up and turning it over in his hand.

 

“Beautiful woodwork on the handle,” he murmurs, inspecting the small knife. He slips it out from its leather sheath to admire the blade. “Sharp, too. I wouldn’t have guessed that my bride knows her way around a blade.” He looks up at me with a soft smile and hands the knife to me, handle first.

 

“Here,” he says. “This is yours.”

 

I hesitate for several moments, confused by the King’s allowance of a blade in my possession. Is this a test? He seems genuine, but I admit that I’m a little afraid.

 

He sighs and takes my shaking hand, turning my palm upwards and placing the knife in my hand, then closing my fingers around it.

 

Then, he does the unexpected.

 

He takes my hand with the knife in it and brings it up, pressing the blade to his throat. My eyes widen.

 

“I understand if you hate me,” he says softly, staring at me with those brilliant orange eyes. “You hold the power here. I will not fight it.” He drops his hand from mine so that I am still holding the knife to his throat with the blade pressing into his skin.

 

It feels as though the King is testing me again. Realistically, I know that killing the King would be a near-impossible feat due to his godlike strength, and killing him would only lead to chaos and the certain death of both myself and my sister, but the thought of the Lycan King being dead could also mean the liberation of thousands of hybrids. 

 

He leans against the blade so that it presses harder against his skin, and a little blood trickles out.

 

I gasp and pull the knife away, instinctively touching his wound with my free hand and wiping the blood away.

 

I don’t want to kill him, not for any of the reasons I just considered, but for another reason…

 

The King takes my now-bloodied hand into his and intertwines our fingers, never breaking eye contact as he kisses my hand softly. My eyelids flutter as he lips brush my skin, and my panties grow wet again.

 

I look down at the knife in my lap, the blood on its blade. It was my father’s knife, and it was the last thing he gave to me before he and my mother died. It’s the only thing I have left.

 

“Thank you, my Lord,” I whisper.

 

The King sighs before speaking. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he says, taking my knife and setting it aside before holding me by my arms and helping me to stand. “And please, call me Atwood. I am not your Lord.”

 

I nod silently, looking at the floor as Atwood begins removing my clothes.

 

He starts with my top, unzipping my hoodie and sliding it off of my shoulders. Then he takes my shirt in his hands and looks at me inquisitively with his orange eyes.

 

“Is this okay to come off?” he whispers. I nod, lifting my arms over my head. He slides my shirt off, then unhooks my bra and removes that too.

 

For a moment, Atwood gazes at my breasts. I feel exposed and a bit nervous, but also excited. I’ve never been with a man before, save for the one time a few years ago with the rowdy village boy named Cayden; but we only kissed a little bit in the stable, our tongues heavy with the wine we stole from the harvest festival. Cayden’s hands had only explored my body for a brief moment then before I had pulled away, too overwhelmed with the encounter at my young age. He was older than me, and more experienced, and had stormed off angrily.

 

Cayden is now the Alpha of my clan, as his father died along with mine in battle. He’s only  nineteen. But, unlike me, he has his wolf; it is only a matter of time before he finds his mate, although I think he never really stopped loving me.

 

Atwood breaks his gaze from my breasts to gently unbuckle my belt and unbutton my pants. He slowly unzips my pants and slides them down my legs. Once I step out of my pants, he slides his hands back up my legs, pausing at my soft thighs, then slides a finger into the waistband of my panties and looks up at me.

 

I nod, knowing he is waiting for approval. My body quivers as he removes my panties.

 

I am dripping with wetness.

 

Atwood stands abruptly and grabs my wrists, which shocks and frightens me, but then he does something that shocks me even more.

 

He kisses me.

 

His kiss is frantic, hard and deep, as though he’s been waiting for this his entire life. My body is tense at first as his hands grip my wrists, but then I relax into his kiss and give in to my desire. I lean against his body, pressing my bare breasts into him, and let him slide his tongue into my mouth.

 

When we finally pull away, Atwood’s orange eyes look fierce and full of lust.

 

“How does it feel, then, to be kissed by an unlovable brute?” he whispers into my ear. His teeth graze my earlobe, causing me to shiver, and then his lips travel down to my neck.

 

All of this is too much. I feel myself growing weaker, and he must sense it too, because he stops to look at me with a concerned look on his face.

 

Sighing, almost resentfully although I can’t quite tell in my dizzy state, Atwood gently guides me to the bathroom, where a steaming hot bath waits for me. The bathroom is beautiful and luxurious, with pink marble floors and plush towels folded neatly. The room smells of incense.

 

He helps me to step in, and I am instantly relieved by the heat of the bath as I sit down and slide down so that the soapy water comes up to my chin.

 

He gets down on his knees beside the tub and begins scrubbing my back with a cloth, then works his way around to my front, cupping my breasts in his hands as he washes each one.

 

I moan softly and lean my head back against the luxurious porcelain tub, then let my eyes finally close.

 

Just before I slip off into sleep, I hear Atwood’s voice in my ear.

 

“Wake up, Ruby. Wake up.”

 

 

 


Atwood
 
I’m resentful at first of my bride’s reluctance to make love with me. All of my fantasies of ravaging her while she is still filthy and bloody from her little adventure, then bathing with her and making love again in the tub with soap all over her beautiful breasts, are cut short when she begins to show weakness. She wavers in her spot, seemingly dizzy, so I take her to the bath to help her relax after the long night and try to soothe the raging erection in my pants. 
 
My wolf wants her badly, and urges me to just take her now, in the bath. “No,” I tell him in my head, to which he responds with a pained growl. “I won’t take her like this.”
 
But as I’m washing her, she passes out and the bath water begins to turn red with blood.
 
I frantically call Doctor Yang using my mindlink, ordering him to come immediately despite his protests at the late hour.
 
I lift Ruby’s limp body from the tub and wrap her in the silk robe that I had hoped to see her twirl arou

#Chapter 7 - Heal