Beauty in Spring

by Kati Wilde

  Determinedly I shake my head. I have no idea what’s happening here, but I am not abandoning him to this, whatever it is. Because suddenly I remember his terrible gift, the one where he left Blackwood Manor to me…because something might happen to him. “I’m not leaving you behind. So tell me where the padlock key is.”

  “Cora. My beautiful Cora.” Stark agony draws his features into a bleak wasteland. “This chain will not hold me. It might slow me but a minute.”

  “But—”

  His gaze darts toward the solarium. Anguish whitens his lips, rasps through his voice. “It’s setting. Swear to me you’ll run and you won’t look back. Swear to me.”

  “I won’t swear.” Despair trembles through my voice. Whatever is about to happen, I can’t leave him here alone. He’s been alone for too long. “Where’s the key to the padlock? Please come with me. Please.”

  Abruptly he curls forward, every muscle in his body straining. “Run,” he growls again. “RUN!”

  That…was not his voice. That was not any man’s voice.

  Fear suddenly pushes me back a step. I whisper uncertainly, “Gideon?”

  “GO.” It seems ripped from him, torn from his chest with jagged claws. “DON’T…WATCH…”

  But I do. God help me, I do.

  Stumbling back, I trip over my own feet and crash to the floor, but don’t take my horrified gaze from the battle that seems to be taking place within Gideon’s powerful body, muscles bulging outward as if caught in an explosion barely contained by his skin. I scream as his bones crack, reaching for him—then scrambling back when his head jerks up, his attention drawn by the sound of my cry. Sharp teeth gleam from a distending jaw, thick fur sprouting over smooth tanned skin.

  Ohmygod, ohmygod. I know what this is. And it can’t be real. Can’t be.

  But the full moon is rising. And somehow this is really happening.

  So I better do what he says and run as if my life depends on it.

  Lurching to my feet, I race for the solarium—and stop, turning back for a last look. But it’s not Gideon in that bedchamber anymore. Instead the werewolf is slowly rising onto his hind feet…rising and rising, taller than Gideon, at least a foot and a half taller than anyone I’ve ever seen, gray fur stretched taut over a body thick with muscle. Too strong to be stopped by that chain.

  My gaze drops to his waist but it’s not the chain or padlock I see. Only an enormous cock, fully erect, too utterly huge to be real.

  But all of this is real.

  The beast turns. Eyes as green as spring grass lock on my face. With a hungry growl, he takes a long step toward me—and is brought up short by the rusted chain.

  On his next step, wood shrieks over stone as the beast drags the heavy oak bed with him.

  I turn and flee.

  His thunderous roar follows me.

  Outside the sky is still a reddish orange on the western horizon, with just enough light to see by as I race down the slope outside the solarium—heading for the east access gate with the gap just wide enough to slip through. It’s closer than the main gates and the grove might offer some protection and a place to hide if the beast escapes more quickly than I can run to the estate’s border.

  The distant shattering of glass warns me that he’s made it through the solarium. Hopefully still dragging that bed, slowing him down.

  I run like I’ve never run before, flying alongside the gravel walk, my sprinting feet flinging mud and sod, gaze fixed ahead—my mind racing as fast as my legs.

  A werewolf. For how long?

  But I know. I know. Because I’ve ran toward this gate before—but Gideon was beside me then. And he made certain that I went through first, that I was safe. But his leg was bleeding. I thought he’d cut it while struggling his way through the gate, but it must have been a bite or a scratch.

  How does it spread? A curse? A disease? It seems like I’ve seen movies and read horror novels with both.

  A howl pierces the night—not far behind me. I burst out of the grove of trees and onto the sprawling lawn. The moon rises full in the eastern sky, just above the horizon. Lungs burning, I draw upon all of my strength, all of my speed. A thousand yards directly ahead is the wall and the access gate that leads to safety.

  Safety from a cursed beast.

  It had to be a curse. Some kind of magic. Because a disease, that’s logical, that’s science—and there was nothing logical about the golden chain that bound me. That was magic, too. And it shouldn’t have been real, either. But that chain undeniably was.

  And it was magic that could be broken. Because Gideon removed the chain from my neck, knowing the danger that was coming with the full moon. And he tried to send me away. To save my life.

  Then why the hell did he keep asking me to marry him? To allow him the use of my cunt for his pleasure? Because if I’d married him, if I’d taken him into my bed, I would have been here. I would have been in danger on this night.

  Except…curses can be broken, too.

  Almost of their own volition, my feet slow. But it’s only my racing mind that is slow to catch up with what my pounding heart has already decided.

  Because that beast looked at me with eyes as green as spring grass. That was Gideon, trapped inside that monster. And if I’m right, then I have the power to free him. He’s told me how, almost every single night.

  But I don’t think this beast will ask me to marry him.

  I also suddenly hope that he really does drag that bed all the way out here with him.

  He hasn’t

  I’m facing him, my back to the rising moon when he silently emerges from the grove, moving so swiftly that even if I hadn’t stopped, I don’t know if I would have made it to the gate.

  But he slows now, too—perhaps confused that I’ve stopped. Or Gideon is fighting him.

  I hear my name carry across the distance on a tortured growl. “CO…RA…”

  Gripping the bottom edge of my T-shirt, I pull it over my head.

  Immediately the tortured growl deepens hungrily. He’s so close now, so utterly huge, thick furred shoulders like a mountain approaching, green eyes glowing with feral light.

  His massive cock points straight at me. And magic or not, there is just no damn way that’ll ever work. I couldn’t even fit my mouth around it without unhinging my jaw, and unless a weresnake is coming along soon, that’s not likely to happen, either. So I pray he can find his pleasure another way.

  Fingers shaking, I unbutton my jeans. I don’t even try to attempt a sexy tease, because he’s almost upon me and I’ve never felt less sexy. So I shove the denim and my panties down my legs and turn my back to the beast, sinking onto my knees in the soft grass, bending over to brace my weight on my hands.

  In a rush, I say, “I offer you the use of my cunt for your pleasure,” and close my eyes, waiting.

  Waiting. My nipples hard with fear and cold, my skin a tight, prickly ache. Waiting. As the whisper of steps over the grass and the heat radiating against the back of my legs tell me he’s so close. Waiting. As his hot breath skims the curve of my ass and his soft growl fills the spring night.

  Wondering if I’ve misjudged everything and am about to be ripped apart.

  I struggle to contain my whimper as clawed hands grip my hips, the razored tips gently pricking my skin. But I can’t contain my cry of surprise as a long, hot tongue licks straight up my center.

  Shock lurches me forward but he brings me right back with a warning growl that deepens on another lick. Heat blooms through my pussy and I’m shaking uncontrollably, everything within me at war. Another long, long lick has me dropping forward onto my elbows, then his rumbling groan sounds from behind me, and I know that sound, recognize Gideon’s ravenous pleasure, the same as he made the night in his tower and in my bed today, as he lapped the juices from my cunt.

  Now I moan his name as I press back against him. “Gideon.”

  Relentlessly he continues, taking his pleasure in the taste of my pussy and forcing
my pleasure from me, his rough tongue flicking at my clit until I’m fisting my hands in the grass and crying out in delirious ecstasy, then rhythmically thrusting his tongue past my entrance as if to gather all of the honey from my convulsing inner walls. And with Gideon, I could push away him when it became too much, when the pleasure was too acute, but now the clawed hands hold me tighter and draw orgasm after orgasm from my body, pulling me taut across a rack of pleasure, until I simply give out and collapse onto my stomach in the grass, too utterly wrecked to support my own weight on my knees.

  But he has not finished. The grip on my hips tightens and lifts me up again, higher, and I feel the hot, thick press of his massive cock against my virgin entrance.

  And that is just not going to work.

  Though he tries, steadily increasing the pressure, trying to push his way in—then we both groan when his enormous length slips forward through my drenched folds, riding across oversensitive bud of my clit.

  Despite my body’s exhaustion, my pussy clenches greedily, aching for more, aching to be filled. Panting into the fragrant grass beneath my cheek, I rock my hips back against him, and realize that I’d forgotten the other part of this. Because it wasn’t simply allowing him the use of my cunt—I was to do it with love.

  So as he fits the thick head of his cock to my entrance again, growling in deepening frustration, I softly breathe the words that have always lived in my heart.

  “I love you, Gideon.”

  4

  Gideon

  I love you, Gideon.

  All at once, I sense everything. The ragged pass of Cora’s breath between her trembling lips. The scalding pleasure of her cunt against the tip of my cock. The flex of her hips beneath my hands, the softness of her skin dimpling against my claws. The sweet scent of her arousal filling my lungs and her delicious flavor lingering upon my tongue.

  Her cheek is pillowed against the grass, her hands fisted as she softly pants. Her hair is a pale tangle, her spine a long, elegant line leading to the beautiful swell of her ass. Against the soft pink flesh of her pussy, my painfully throbbing cock is slick with her honey and my pre-cum, and looks like the size of a battering ram.

  I’m wearing the wrong skin. The hunter’s skin. The protector’s skin.

  I shed my beast form as easily as I would a shirt. No cracking of bone and agonizing shear of flesh. I don’t know why the difference. But I know it’s right.

  As right as the way Cora feels against me.

  Her pussy glistens with need, the pink flesh still swollen with arousal after my endless feast. Fisting my cock, I glide the thick crown the length of her slit, yearning to breach her virgin entrance and finally claim her. But not yet.

  Bending over her, I press a kiss to the nape of her neck. “My beautiful Cora.”

  Her eyes fly open and energy surges through her languid form. Pushing up on her elbows, she looks back over her shoulder, a trembling smile on her lips. “Gideon?”

  In answer I sit back on my heels and draw her up against my chest until she’s straddling my thighs. Angling my head, I capture her mouth with mine. Eagerly she returns my kiss, her eyes swimming with tears, her joy so sweet that I can taste it, smell it.

  Her love so deep that it’s given me everything. Yet if I take her now, she will give me even more.

  Releasing her lips, I press a kiss to the side of her neck. “The perfume of your arousal is ripe and fertile, Cora. If I come inside you tonight, the bond between us will be stronger than any golden chain, because you will carry my child.”

  Her breath shudders, and she rolls her hips back against my stiffened cock, as if already seeking my seed. “Yes. Do it.”

  As she demands. Bending her forward, I brace my left hand on the ground as my right locks her against me, my forearm angling up between her breasts and my fingers lightly clasping her throat, my thumb nestled in the hollow of her jaw.

  Mounting her now. An hour ago, I would have blamed the beast within me. But there is only me. There’s only ever been me. The beast and I were never any different.

  And I am finally claiming my bride.

  She gasps when my burning erection lodges against her slick entrance, then moans, biting her lip as her untried flesh stretches to accept the broad head of my cock, her velvet inner walls giving way beneath the unyielding pressure. Groaning with pleasure, I thrust deeper, the faint copper scent of her virginity mixing with the heady fragrance of her nectar. Sweetly she cries out as I bury my full length deep inside the voluptuous clasp of her sheath, her back arching, her hips rising as if to escape.

  Then sliding back down, taking all of me again, her slippery juices easing the way.

  The pulse in her throat races against my palm. Reaching back, she grasps a fistful of my hair. “Harder now,” she moans. “I want all of you, Gideon.”

  She will have me.

  With a thick growl, I surge my hips forward. She cries out again in helpless ecstasy, her pussy gripping every thick inch of my cock. I fill her again and again, and her cries become frantic pleas as I ruthlessly use her cunt for my pleasure…and hers. Her wetness drips between her thighs, my shaft glistening with her honey, and when she comes on a scream, her inner walls clamping down on the thickness of my erection, I can’t hold back anymore. With a guttural roar, I bury my cock deep, my hot cum spurting into her clenching sheath, filling her with a molten flood of seed.

  Mine. Always mine. Forever bound to me.

  Chest heaving, I pull her up and she sags back against me. “I can’t,” she pants breathlessly. “I can’t come again.”

  I won’t force her to, then. Not for another hour, at least.

  My cum spills down her inner thighs as I slowly withdraw, but before she can reach for her clothing to wipe it away, I swing her up against my chest. Cradling her against me, I start off toward the manor house.

  Toward home.

  In the moonlight, her pale hair is silver. Her blue eyes shine with love as she gazes up at me, her swollen lips forming a soft, shy smile.

  Then curving downward, her brow creasing.

  I will allow nothing to mar her happiness. “What?”

  “Your teeth,” she says quietly, her lips quivering. “You still have fangs.”

  So I do. But they are already gone. “I will keep them small, if they displease you.”

  “Displease…?” Confusion forms a furrow between her eyebrows. “No. But I thought we broke the curse.”

  “There is no breaking it,” I say gruffly. “There is no cure.”

  And I would not want it if there was. Unless Cora asked it of me. Because a cure now would be like ripping away half of my soul.

  But I would sacrifice that for her.

  “Then…what happened? How did you fight free of the beast and gain control?”

  “Because there’s nothing to fight now. I am that beast.” I struggle to explain what I don’t understand myself. But it is what I know. “We shared a heart and soul. And it was as if we were two halves of a whole with a rift between us. But you healed that rift. Now we are not two halves. Just a whole.”

  She gazes silently at me for a long time. “That’s a little weird.”

  I nod.

  “But so are magical necklaces.” Linking her arms around my shoulders, she smiles up at me. “The fangs were kind of sexy.”

  I grin.

  “Maybe not that long,” she says, then laughs in delight when I shrink them again. “Now ask me.”

  My voice thick with emotion, I do as she says. “Will you marry me, Cora?”

  Her blue eyes are solemn. “If I say yes, will you ever let me go?”

  “No,” I vow.

  “Then yes,” she says, smiling happily.

  “I love you, my beautiful Cora,” I growl softly, then capture that smile in a heated kiss.

  And far less than a hour passes before she comes again.

  Epilogue

  Cora

  Fourteen months later, the first day (or night) of summer…<
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  Silver light from the full moon shines through our bedchamber windows as I lie half-asleep in bed, awaiting Gideon’s return—until sleep deserts me completely when plaintive cries sound from the nursery.

  Since the date of his birth—which came a month early, on the night of the winter solstice—our son has never had a good sense of timing.

  Smiling, I wrap a silk robe around my nude body and slip through the door to the adjoining chamber. The glow of a nightlight offers gentle illumination—and a view of the eight-foot-tall werewolf bending over the crib, with a six-month-old baby protectively cradled in one giant clawed hand.

  “Just because our son is crying doesn’t mean he’s hurt,” I tell the beast. “So you can stand down. It’s probably a wet nappy. Or he’s hungry.”

  Those vivid green eyes narrow on my breasts. His wolfish grin exposes razor-sharp teeth.

  “Bad beast,” I tease him, and gently lift Lucas out of his arms, turning toward the changing table. “He needs a new diaper. But you probably already smelled that.”

  His rumbling growl holds the sound of a laugh, and he edges in close behind me as I tend to the baby. His enormous form radiates heat like a furnace against my back, his breath hot over my skin as he bends to lick my neck.

  “Behave,” I whisper, even as shivers of pleasure race through me.

  He behaves until I lay the sleeping baby down in the crib, then his big hands roughly grip my hips from behind and pull me back against his thickly furred chest. Through the thin silk between us, his steely arousal is a massive burning length against my back, too massive, yet the beast still takes what he wants, tearing aside the robe and sliding his hand into wetness and heat, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing over my sensitive clit.

  Clinging to his forearm, I gasp out his name. “Gideon.”

  His answer is a ravenous growl, and he swings me up against his broad chest.

  My breath coming in ragged pants, I tell him, “Put me down.”

  His snarl draws his lips back over gleaming teeth.