Siebold

by Lee Savino

  His nostrils flared. I freed a hand and passed it gently over his brow. My fingers slender and delicate stroking his skin. “Be at peace.”

  For a long moment, the blond warrior remained suspended over me, breathing hard. Then, in a rush, he was gone, standing across the room as far from me as he could go. Was it wrong that I felt the loss?

  I smoothed my dress to hide my distress. My own heart fluttered. If the warrior was paying attention, he’d have known it was excitement not fear.

  Siebold stood in the middle of the hut, staring at the door. Trapped in memories. He’d said more in this night than he had in days. Maybe years. I would let him think.

  I collected my skirts and stooped to clean up the broken jug. The warrior still did not notice.

  “You have much magic,” he said after a long while. “It might be enough to bring me back. But it might not.”

  “It might not,” I agreed.

  “I should go.”

  I dropped the pieces of the jug and crossed the room swiftly. “You cannot go.” I drew myself up to face him. My head barely came up to his neck. My body was slight before him, a reed before an oak. I looked too small to stop such a large warrior, but I was determined. “I will not let you.”

  “You would try to tame me, witch?” Siebold’s voice was gruff, his eyes bright. I knew it wasn’t the man who faced me, but the beast.

  “No. You heard me tell Dafydd. No one can tame a wild wolf.”

  He reached out and splayed a hand over my collarbone. His long fingers stretched shoulder to shoulder, framing my neck. “I’m dangerous.”

  I leaned into his palm and whispered, “So am I.” I let my own power rise. My hair lifted and my own eyes glowed. No sense hiding from him. “I won’t forget what you are. Don’t forget what I am. Tread softly, Siebold, and we will get along.”

  His head tilted and eyes narrowed as if he was puzzling out what I meant.

  I made it clear. “You are not leaving.”

  His body relaxed. Suddenly, we stood together not as strangers, not as adversaries, but something more.

  “No,” he said and slowly raised his hand to brush my brow, mimicking my earlier movement. “I don’t suppose I am.”

  16

  Siebold

  I cupped the back of Meadhan’s neck, clamping my fingers tight. Not hurting, but holding her still. I searched her eyes, waiting for her to put up a fight.

  She relaxed against me. Her mouth opened, lips parting in soft, sweet invitation.

  “Tell me you want this,” I growled. “Tell me to stay.” But before she could answer, I dropped my head and took her lips. I gripped her nape, guiding her closer.

  “Yes,” she gasped against my mouth. “Yes.”

  Fire shot through me. I lifted her in my arms, and she twined herself around me, tugging me closer with her legs.

  We fell back onto the bed, lips still drinking each other in. She wriggled and I realized she was struggling out of her dress. I grabbed the edge of the garment and tugged to help her. Her arms whipped over her head as her dress came free. Fabric tore.

  “It’s all right,” my little witch said wildly. “I don’t care.” Her hands found my jaw, guiding me back to her mouth.

  “Meadhan,” her name rumbled in my throat. I tugged her into place below me. My cock jerked towards her heat, but I ignored it. I had to taste her. I kissed down her neck to her perfect breasts, where I could lick and suck and worship. Then my mouth moved lower still.

  My little witch writhed under me, her nails scratching my sides. I pinned her hips and scooted down, following her heady scent to its source. Her dark thighs were wet and slick, dripping honey. I nuzzled there, rubbing my beard against her tender skin and making her wriggle. I eased her leg over my shoulder, spreading the other leg wide so she split open for me. Yes. This was where I would live.

  My tongue danced over her folds, nipping her when she struggled, and rewarding her when she stilled by licking her until her legs shook. She cried and convulsed, digging her fingers into my hair. I rubbed my chin in the nest of her dark hair before bending my head to tease her to climax again. I ignored my cock, thick and angry and heavy as a club between my legs. Nothing mattered but Meadhan’s scent and her lithe body, fighting and climaxing and tugging me closer, all at the same time.

  Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, shaking the little hut. It blinded and deafened me. I groped in the darkness, grasping her face so I could claim her mouth. I thrust my tongue inside her mouth as I longed to do with my cock. Soon. First, I would let her body ease open for me.

  A light blazed in the corner of the hut. The fire, finding new life. I blinked. Meadhan had her hand outstretched, muttering. A few logs rolled from their stack into the fire.

  Her midnight skin glowed in the firelight. I dug my fingers into the soft cloud of her hair, tugging her head back. My mouth covered the sensitive spot on her neck, sucking until she squirmed. My lips left a red mark, right where my woman should bear a mating mark.

  A growl rumbled in my chest. The beast approved.

  Still, I wanted to take my time, to savor her. With my fingers still in her hair, I tugged at the end of one plait. This time, she did not slap my hand away from her tresses. She allowed me to unravel first one and then another of her braids. It was as though I were undressing her all over again. When her crown of curls were free I gathered a handful and gave her head a tug. Her neck was bared to me.

  I kissed my way down her throat to her bared breasts, lovely brown mounds like a strong brew of mead topped with darker nipples. I had to taste them.

  I lapped at the tightened buds, circling them with my tongue. Goosebumps rose over her flesh, and I had to taste those too. Her heated skin gave off a rich, honeyed scent that made my cock throb. But I ignored my painful arousal and moved my mouth over Meadhan, worshipping her perfection.

  “Siebold,” she clawed at my shoulders. “Siebold, please.”

  I kissed back up her body. She grunted, her fingers digging into my skin, impatient as she tried to maneuver me over her. I hitched her leg up and she wrapped her calf around my buttocks, pulling me towards her. I lowered myself into the cradle of her hips, groaning as her fingers found my iron hard length. She stroked me in her palm once, twice, then guided me home.

  She was all tightness and slick heat, her skin silken under my rough palms.

  Meadhan moaned in my arms and a red film washed over my vision. The beast was taking over.

  I threw back my head and roared.

  17

  Meadhan

  A fierce wind howled outside the hut. Siebold’s canines glinted over me. For a moment, my Sight flashed with a vision of a monstrous beast, its jaws wide to bite its prey. I’d allowed this warrior into my home, my bed and body.

  My mother’s tale of the wolfman told me when a wolfman found his mate, he would mark her with a bite. The mark would never fade. My magic would heal me, but the mark would leave a scar, a sign I was a witch, plain for all to see.

  “No,” I shouted and threw my arm up. My power blasted the warrior backwards, but he fought it, his teeth snapping close. Grabbing him, I rolled us off the bed.

  We landed with Siebold under me. Fur rippled down his arms and chest. His eyes glowed. He was a monster, but inside me was a wild thing, monstrous in her own way. I’d kept her hidden for years, but she would hide no longer. She was hungry, sensing the beast in Siebold. Her power licked at him and liked the taste.

  The beast under me roared in my face and I snarled back. Power crackled along my limbs, blazing bright.

  Our monsters stared at each other. His was bigger but mine was stronger.

  Outside, a storm broke. Winds smashed into the hut, buffeting it. A trio of pots fell from my mantel to the hearth. The sound of their smashing was swallowed by the echoing thunder. Lightning sizzled just outside the door.

  My hair stood on end. Small items rose around us, levitating a foot or two off the floor. The air was thick with my powe
r.

  Siebold opened his great jaws and lunged at me. I drove him back, my power pinning him to the floor.

  “No. You will please me,” I growled. I was still on top of him, straddling him. I gripped his shoulders and bore down, seating myself firmly on his thick rod. My hips rolled in a powerful rhythm.

  Siebold bared his teeth at me, but the more I rocked over him, breasts bouncing, the less he seemed to mind me taking control. He seized my hips and snapped his own, driving his cock deeper inside me. I cried out and almost toppled over, but he propped me up, forcing me to ride him.

  His hand encircled my throat. “Mine,” he snarled.

  “Mine,” I snapped back and slid my own hands to his throat. It took both of mine to span the front of his powerful neck. A rumble rose from his chest, but he seemed content. His eyes grew heavy lidded and he drove his powerful body upwards, fucking me from below.

  My own movements slowed, growing languid as pleasure shimmered through me. I leaned back and clutched his wrist. Holding on, holding him close as he collared my neck.

  Outside the storm was still raging. Inside, a strange wind blew. The items in the air spun around us.

  His hand tightened around my throat and I began to shake.

  “Siebold,” I shrieked to the ceiling as my pleasure claimed me. Something smashed in the corner. A bundle of herbs broke from its string and blew past my face. The door banged open and swung wildly, battered by the wind.

  Under me, Siebold’s body tightened. His hips surged upwards as he drove into me with a howl. His fingers tightened around my throat. A white blast seared my vision. Then there was a huge boom, a giant rush of air over my face.

  And I knew no more.

  18

  Meadhan

  I woke to sunlight hitting my face. My whole body screamed when I tried to move. “Ohh, mercy.” My thighs and inner muscles were especially sore.

  “Morning,” Siebold murmured. He was grinning.

  “You’re happy,” I grumbled. My head throbbed like I’d drunk a cask of mead.

  “The sun is shining, I have a beautiful witch in my arms...”

  “Shhhh,” I pressed my fingers over his lips. “Don’t say that. Supposed to be a secret.”

  “What, that you’re beautiful?” Siebold brushed back the untamed cloud of my hair. “It’s no secret.”

  “No, the other. Don’t tell people I’m a witch.”

  His body did feel good, hard and warm, curled around mine. I shifted and realized we were still lying on the floor. We must have slept here all night. No wonder I was sore.

  A bird fluttered down beside us, pecking at the floorboards. My eyes widened.

  “Sorry, sweetness. That’s no secret either. And if it is, not for long.” Siebold waved a hand to shoo the bird away. It hopped aloft, fluttering upwards into the big, blue expanse of sky where my roof used to be, where it winged away.

  “What have you done?” I launched myself up as well. My hut no longer had a roof. Herbs and pots lay strewn around the room, in a perfect circle from where Siebold and I had lain.

  “Not me,” Siebold rumbled. He caught me up in his arms, stepped over the broken pottery and herb bundles and carried me into the garden. The roof had blown off cleanly, the beams and rushes tossed into the forest as if by a giant hand.

  At least it hadn’t crushed my bean poles.

  I dug my fingers into my hair, making it wilder than before. “I don’t suppose this was the work of a sudden storm.”

  “A storm called Meadhan,” Siebold said. He was still grinning. I could punch him.

  At least I didn't live close to the village. If Offa’s men or Mistress Donna’s son visited me today, how would I explain it?

  “I will fix it,” Siebold promised. His arm slung around me, he tugged me into his side. I let him support me. He kissed my temple. “Do not worry. I will fix everything.”

  It was not the ruin of my hut I was most worried about. Or the fact that the warrior had moved so swiftly and completely into my life. It was getting harder to hide what I was.

  My own power was free, and would no longer be tamed.

  19

  Meadhan

  The next morning, I took the forest path that brought me around the village and deposited me directly into the field where people gathered for the market. My dress was long and modest despite the heat of the day, and my unruly hair was safely tucked under a covering. I looked the part of a demure village woman with a basket of herbal tinctures to sell.

  “Just act as you always have,” I ordered myself under my breath. “No one will guess the truth.” No one would guess my body was still sore from the ardent attentions of a strange warrior. Or that the storm that’d swept through the forest and brought down branches all over the path had its origin with me. At least the worst of the damage was centered around my hut.

  I smoothed my hand over my hair covering, straightened my bodice, and started to step from the forest into the light.

  Only to stop short when a huge blond wolf blocked my way.

  “Get back,” I hissed. The wolf didn’t obey. It stood in the middle of the path, using its body as a solid, furry wall to keep me back. “Siebold, I mean it.”

  The wolf spared me a brief glance, then swiveled its huge head back to study the market.

  “It’s fine. It’s just the village market. I come here every week.” I shifted my basket onto my hip, freeing up a hand to tug at his thick scruff. The wolf didn’t budge. “You shouldn’t even be here. I told you to wait back at the hut.”

  The wolf’s lip curled. Then his whole body stilled. From the tip of its nose to the end of its tail, his body pointed like an arrow to some unseen threat in the market.

  “What? What is it?”

  Out in the market, a man walked between the stalls, using a stave to roll a barrel before him.

  “Him? That’s Cynog. He’s fine. He makes mead.” The man reached his stall and tugged the barrel upright. If he followed habit, he would tap the barrel and sample his own wares to break his fast. “He’s not a bad sort, though my mead is better.”

  Siebold glared at the man, his lip curling further. His teeth flashed and he gave a deep growl.

  I flung myself to my knees, my arm locking around Siebold’s neck. “No. You can’t. You must hush.”

  The growl continued. I grabbed the wolf’s snout and jerked him to face me. “Listen to me,” I snarled, letting my power out. My hair covering slipped and my hair escaped, the tight curls bouncing out.

  The wolf glared at me but the growling stopped.

  “This is where I’ve made my home. These are innocent people. They have done nothing to hurt me.” Yet. “You will not growl at them. You will not attack. And you will not let yourself be seen.” I released his maw and wiped my hand on my skirts before hoisting up my basket. “Now stay here and keep out of sight. I’ll be back by dusk.”

  I strode on, without looking to see if the wolf obeyed.

  My heart pounded as I entered the market. My path took me past the mead maker. Any moment he might look up. Would he see an ordinary woman? Or would he instantly recognize me as a witch?

  My hair cloth had slipped. With a hiss, I tugged it back into place, just in time for Cynog to glance up.

  He gave me a polite smile. “Mornin’, Mistress Meadhan.”

  “Master Cynog,” I murmured and inclined my head. “Looks to be a fine day.”

  “A fine day,” he agreed, lifting his mug of mead in a happy toast. The tight fist inside me relaxed.

  Perhaps everything would be all right.

  Then Cynog looked past me and his eyes bulged out of his head. His white skin paled further. “What is that?” he sputtered. The mug of mead dropped to the ground.

  I whirled. Siebold was following me. A huge wolf, trotting at my heels through the marketplace.

  So much for trying to look ordinary.

  “Oh, him?” I squeaked and waved a nervous hand. “He’s fine.”

&nbs
p; “It’s a wolf!” Cynog backed up into his stall, no doubt looking for a weapon.

  “Wolf hound,” I blurted, “And he’s harmless.”

  “Harmless!”

  “Well…” I glanced to Siebold. The wolf was grinning, its teeth on full display. “Not harmless. But he won't harm you.”

  A flurry of shocked voices rose up behind me. More villagers had seen Siebold.

  Cynog waved a long knife. “Don’t make any sudden moves. I’ll distract him and then we must run.”

  “I’m fine. He’s not dangerous. Not to me. See?” I dropped my basket and held out my hand. “Siebold, come.”

  There was a tense pause where everyone watching held their breath. Then Siebold swung his great head my way, took a step, and let me run my hand over his head.

  Cynog visibly wilted with relief. “He’s not attacking.”

  “Of course not.” I stepped closer and ran both hands over Siebold’s body.

  “God’s thumbs,” Cynog muttered, drawing an arm over his brow. He went to pick up his mug of mead and Siebold swung his head around and fixed the poor man with a baleful stare. Cynog froze.

  “Siebold, no,” I snapped, tugging the wolf’s head back to face me. “Bad dog.”

  The villagers murmured to one another, watching closely, though none made a move to come closer.

  “Mistress Meadhan,” Dafydd darted between the staring villagers and ran up, skidding to a halt. “Oh. You brung the wolf?”

  “Hound,” I corrected desperately. “Wolf hound. He’s perfectly trained,” I announced to the wary villagers listening. “Really.”

  “He is that,” Dafydd announced. “He does tricks.”

  “Yes,” I cried. “I’ll show you. Siebold...sit.”

  Teeth still bared, the great wolf dropped his haunches.

  “Stay.” I breathed in relief, moving closer with my hand out. “Down. That’s it,” I tried not to sound too shocked when Siebold lowered his body to the ground. “Now...roll over.”