EVANTHE
This time, there is no hesitation as he pads up to me. Once again, he is bloodied, but my breath catches at the gaping wound on his shoulder.
“Oh, what happened to you?” I cry.
He nudges me with his snout, pressing me back against the tree, and makes a low chuff. It is a very dismissive sound, as though him bleeding all over the place is of no consequence.
“Do not dismiss me, wolf,” I say. “Why do you not shift to heal?”
He ignores my question, drawing closer still until his snout touches my cheek.
I squeak.
His snout drifts downward to the mark at my throat. He licks. Liquid heat flows into my veins; a low moan escapes my lips.
His next chuff is deep and steeped with satisfaction before he flashes to his monstrous werebeast.
My heart skips a beat then hammers a rapidba-dump.
He should terrify me, by rights. This form is towering and powerful, broad-chested and twice my height. Only, I think of how he protected me from that raider, and all I experience is wonder.
Reaching up, I cup his snout. He leans into my touch, making a low crooning sound before crowding over me and licking across my lips.
It should disgust me, yet he smells of pine needles and mint, and something earthy and a little carnal. Something that makes me shiver in other ways.
His tongue moves lower, lapping the hollow of my throat, finding the mark again, before his nose depresses the upper swell of my breast. He snuffles there before his broad tongue licks over the curve.
My fingers clench and tremble. I try to stay still. I am his now, bound by the old laws that guard Merrywood. He is vast and fearsome—yet his tongue slides beneath my dress and chemise, rising until it teases my nipple and I forget my own name.
I gasp, daring to move my hand to block him.
“Behave, mate,” he growls, voice so low I feel it vibrate through me.
My chest heaves, my breath is stuttering in and out. It is my first time hearing his voice and it shocks me into docility. His growl continues in a low rumble, promising trouble should I not comply. One giant fist snags the front of my dress, and he tugs, jerking me from the tree. The material gives in a sudden loud rent, and my breasts spill free.
He makes a low, rumbling sound against me, using his nose to push me back, his arms creating a cage against the tree. This time, there is nothing to stop his wicked tongue from curling around my breast and lapping at my nipple, which tightens to a hard, sensitive point.
Arousal pools low in my belly, making me hot and squirmy. I shouldn’t be enjoying this. Should not be feeling pleasure. He licks and laps, seeming intent upon stoking my shame higher and my nipple to yet greater sensitivity. My core grows hot, and slickness gathers between my thighs.
This is happening too fast.
“I don’t even know your name,” I mumble.
He doesn’t stop to gift me his name, instead, he snuffles his nose against me before his teeth nip lightly against the plump flesh.
My breath stutters again, fear colliding with the heat.
Maybe Mistress Nina got this all wrong. Maybe he is going to savage me?
But no, he is gentle about it. The nip is almost playful before he licks my nipple again. He exhales a low breath. Moving over to the other side and doing the same there. Licking and lapping, nipping here and there, until my breasts feel swollen and achy, and my nipples grow impossibly taut.
I am terrified, confused. Between my legs grows hot and wet. The forest scent of him saturates the air.
He grips the ruined collar of my dress again. Tugs me forward, displacing me from the tree and dropping me on the ground before it.
Now I am flat on my back against the rough forest floor, a litter of branches and leaves, with fern and pinecones poking into me. He growls, his teeth against my dress beneath my breasts, before moving down. With a glint in his eyes, he takes the hem of my dress in his beastly hand and slowly, almost daring me to complain, draws it up.
“Oh,” I say weakly.
