STEAMPUNK ROMANCE: An Innovative Clockwork Steampunk World Adventure: The Complete Collection Boxed Set (Mystery Suspense Romance Short Stories)

by Haven, Rose

  "I'm here," she said. "I'll keep your cock cozy, after you tell me what you're going to do to me."

  He thought his dick couldn't swell any more, but for the first time he was mistaken. Eagerly, he accepted her invitation and would lean over her, him now sitting between her knees, a hand cupping her dripping cunt.

  "I'm going to fuck you harder than that prissy lord could dream of," he said, gripping her shoulder to pin her to the pelt.

  She didn't protest, letting him hold her down. Her arms splayed as she gazed up at him, expectant, coy.

  "Can you make it fit?" she asked, her smile challenging him.

  "It had better," he snarled. "Or I'll stuff you till you pop."

  "Please," she laughed, gripping the coarse fur beneath her, spreading her legs wide. "I'm so hollow..."

  He pressed three fingers inside her, spreading her walls in preparation for his throbbing organ—her low moan was music to his ears. His fingers left and at last, his cock sunk in deep, her tight pussy squeezing his girth. A groan rumbled in his chest as he gripped her knees, which pressed against his sides, using them as leverage to thrust deeper inside, then deeper again, inspiring a rising scream of delight from the beautiful Canine. She was almost sitting up, fingers buried in his hair as her back arched, bringing her bouncing breasts close enough to taste. His palms left her knees to lift a mound in each hand, his thumbs rolling her sensitive peaks as he bucked again, and again, the juices of her slit flowing with her moans and cries. He couldn't take it. She was so tight, so slick, his member was covered in her cum and that just made him more eager to fit more of himself inside her, pressure building, building, until at last his rock-hard cock erupted in this long, powerful spilling inside her.

  She climaxed too. He could feel her tight slit tremble and massage the last of his seed into her body, drinking it in, as her hands rolled orgasmically down her chest, to press against her belly, and then to her clit. If he had had anything left to give, he would have exploded a second time over. He never wanted to leave her.

  He touched her hair, breathing hard, his forehead pressed to hers. But at last, their bodies parted. Fluids leaked, but he pulled her into his arms, to lay by his side. Elizabeth looked...surprised. After this initial hesitation, she would cup his cheek, her eyes softening.

  "You want me to stay?" she asked.

  He nodded, and would kiss her palm.

  "How could I let you leave?" he asked.

  Rion pressed her hair away from her neck, sweaty as his was. He kissed the exposed skin, tasting the salt. He savored it.

  "I'll stay, if you want me to," Elizabeth relented, quieter.

  The Alpha nodded, hiding a small smile. He would close his eyes, letting grogginess wash over him. He did not fear consequences. Now, his thoughts were filled with her.

  Chapter 4: Poisoned by Thought

  Morning light streamed in through the treetops, touching the cave floor by Elizabeth's head. She slowly opened her eyes, her head aching. As she sat up, feeling a painful stinging between her legs, noticing the unfamiliar environment, she went cold.

  No...

  Her gaze settled on Rion, naked, fast asleep on his back. She saw her dress, the thin slip, discarded in the corner. So intense was her denial that for at least five minutes, she didn't move at all. She was frozen to that spot, where her feelings circled round and around outside herself, until they struck her like lightning.

  What have I done?

  Elizabeth barely managed to grab her dress before she stumbled out of the cave. Suddenly, she was running. She knew full well that she had nowhere to go, that she didn't know where she was, and that she faced more danger in the forest without the Wolves than if she could stomach it to stay in their numbers. None of that mattered. She ran until her uncalloused feet started to bleed, and even then made it yards more, adrenaline blocking out all pain. She only stopped when her legs gave out, forcing her to drop to her knees in the mud, where she dry heaved until her stomach gave up trying to eject much of anything.

  She started to cry. For getting herself muddy after finally bathing, for being stolen away from Luthias and Kieran, and more than anything, for whatever curse had made her lose herself to the vengeful bitch who had taken up residence in the back of her mind, whispering cruelty and refusing to justify her existence. She cried because she was Emilie, and she had no idea what that meant.

  It was a long time before she rose to her feet, shaking. She was about to begin the mournful walk back home when suddenly, a familiar voice greeted her.

  "Elizabeth!"

  Kieran dropped down in front of her, apparently from the branches of a tree above. He choked her with a bear hug that felt both punishing and kind.

  "Oh you stupid bitch, Elizabeth, thank god," he said, his clawed hand resting on the back of her head. "Did they hurt you?"

  She shook her head, biting back tears. Relief flowed through her.

  "I'm fine," she said, and meant it as much as she could. "Just...shaken."

  He pulled back, lifting her chin this way and that, as if examining her for marks. She pulled back exasperated, wrapping her arms around herself.

  "Where's Luthias?" she asked, what she really wanted to know.

  "He went ahead to the pack. He's probably breaking spines, but they deserve it. God damn Wolves..."

  Fear struck her all over again. She remembered what Rion had said about Luthias' true form; despite the abduction, she wished no harm on the pack that had treated her so kindly the last few weeks. As if possessed, she turned and ran back the direction she had fled from, prompting Kieran to follow in frustration.

  "What the hell, Elizabeth?!"

  He was ignored, her focus on the pack, and Rion. Maybe she was too late to prevent damage, but she knew she could stop Luthias from rampaging. Probably. Everything aside, she had to try.

  If she hadn't been warned of the reality beforehand, the scene at camp would likely have sent her into shock. She came upon a horde of bloodied wolves, a mass of fur and claws and broken bones, all attempting to face a common enemy: an enormous beast nearly the size of the clearing, a giant black dog with teeth the size of swords, eyes glowing the same crimson as the cloud that swirled around him, an aura solidified in a poison mist. She couldn't believe this was Luthias. At last, she knew why people trembled with fear when he entered a room.

  Fresh horror came when a great red wolf finally appeared on the scene, leaping between Luthias and a much smaller wolf that snarled at his heel. Rion was still far outsized, but he at least came to his shin, and that was enough. Luthias bent down to snarl, baring his great fangs at the Alpha—who snarled right back, unafraid. Luthias snapped at Rion and Rion dove out of reach, under his belly, using teeth and claws to rip at the underside of his joints. Luthias howled as blood poured, but the poison mist had slowed Rion, allowing Luthias to trap him beneath his paw. Elizabeth watched as Luthias dragged him over rocks, primal hunger in his eyes. She had to stop this. Somehow.

  Something was rising within her, physically. It was as though her blood was thickening in her veins, forcing this energy up her body, pooling in her spine. She was overwhelmed with—anger. The dam broke.

  "Stop."

  A pulse of power went from her across the camp, knocking everyone back. The animal forms all reverted—even Luthias and Rion were changed and flung against two separate trees, finally ripped apart. Their human bodies were battered and smeared with blood. Both stared at her, for the first time realizing that she was there, and then realizing that it was she who had stopped their battle.

  Elizabeth didn't understand what she had done, but she didn't care. Water was leaking out of her eyes and she just started talking.

  "Luthias, I did something horrible," she said. "I lost control. Emilie is in my head and she made me give myself to Rion. I just want to go home now and forget it ever happened. Please take me home."

  She tried not to look at Rion, who stared at her with this heartbreaking, lost expression. He had been fig
hting for her. That realization made her hurt more.

  Luthias seemed startled, yet...somehow, he didn't seem angry. She shrank back when he approached, but her fear proved unfounded. He simply lifted her into his arms, supporting her head against his shoulder, and looked past her to a dumbfounded Kieran.

  "The helicopter," said Luthias.

  "Yeah. Coming," Kieran managed, pulling out his phone.

  Suddenly a helicopter was lowering itself down in the midst of all those hurt wolves, some needing to roll out from beneath the landing gear before it touched ground. Elizabeth felt her heart drop when she accidentally made eye contact with Bull, who was holding together the broken shin of a young girl injured during Luthias' blind rage. The clearing was stained by the destruction; the blood would never fully leave the tree bark or the stones. Elizabeth tried not to imagine how many might be critically injured, or already dead. Rion had said that the pack was ready for a fight, but how could he have known the true power of an ancient demon that never walked in his natural form?

  Kieran jumped in first, then Luthias, Elizabeth clinging tight. She kept her eyes shut, not wanting to see what she was leaving behind. As the helicopter took off, she tried hear only the sound of its propellers and not the mournful howl that rose after them, born of a broken heart.

  Chapter 5: Homecoming

  Luthias didn't say a word to her that whole flight, just stewing in a silence she couldn't possibly understand. When they touched down at the palace, servants arrived, whisking Luthias to healers and Elizabeth to the baths, where handmaidens would scrub her thoroughly with soaps, conditioner, and perfume. People asked her about her well-being, but no one asked her what had happened. Maybe they sensed that the answer wasn't pretty.

  Laced into a new corset, hair freshly brushed, her gown nicely fitted, she was at last deposited in a room that was considered "hers." However, the time of her disappearance, in addition to the weeks she had stayed in Luthias' chambers, made this room alien to her. She could only feel lost in it. She wandered to the vanity, dragging out the chair, sitting down. She began to pull the pins out of her hair when she glimpsed a bandaged Luthias in the mirror, watching her from against the far wall.

  "You claim Emilie made you give yourself to the Wolf."

  Hearing it aloud was like being stabbed in the heart. Only because it was true, she managed a nod.

  "I've started hearing her voice, in my head," she admitted, despite pain. "She laughs at everything I do. She wants me to go out of my way to hurt you."

  This didn't seem surprising to him. He ran his fingers through his hair, as if thoughtful. His refusal to respond began to frustrate her anew.

  "What happened between you two?" she demanded, finally turning to look at him. "I thought she was your mate—I thought you loved each other."

  "It was complicated."

  "That doesn't mean anything!"

  "She died with reason to hate me," he said at last. "That's all I wish to say on the matter."

  "How can you be so fucking formal right now?!" she cried, furious.

  "It is our way."

  "It's bullshit!"

  In spite of her anger, when he approached, she quieted. When he touched her cheek, she leaned into his palm, closing her eyes. His touch made the world seem right, even when it wasn't.

  "Let's get one thing straight," he said, calm. "You're mine, Elizabeth. This can never happen again."

  Tears welled up, though she held them behind closed lids.

  "...I'm so sorry," she whispered.

  "About what?"

  "For betraying you...for being disloyal."

  "And how will you make it up to me?"

  Elizabeth opened her eyes to see him, soon losing herself in the intensity of Luthias' gaze. She was putty in his hands.

  "How do you want me to, my lord?"

  Immediately, she saw that wonderful flicker of a smile, betraying feelings behind the mask of nobility. He responded, at first, with a kiss. This deepened as his fangs nicked her lower lip, one of his claws extending before she felt the new dress being torn slowly down the back, through even the boning of the corset, and all of her clothing simply fell in a heap around her.

  "You'll not have any new clothes for a while," he said.

  A laugh escaped her.

  "Yes, my lord."

  Luthias jerked her to her feet, then pushed her onto the bed, where she remained as he slowly stripped himself. This wasn't like the times before, though. Her heart clenched slightly with fear even as it pounded with anticipation. She couldn't help but expect a punishing advance when he lowered himself over her, but was again surprised by a kind kiss. He kept knocking her off balance, mentally. She didn't know what to expect next.

  His hand touched hers. His claws were out, drawing a thin trail of blood where he drew his thumb along her palm.

  "Can you remember where he touched you?" he asked.

  At first, she didn't. But as she slowly waded through the fog of uncertain memory, she would guide his hand to her slit, guiding him to cup her. She was dry now, anxious, and a little afraid. Once more, he surprised her. His lips moved to her neck, kissing her softly before trailing to her shoulder, where he sucked gently on her smooth flesh. She trembled, more so when his claws retracted and his thumb touched her clit, first simply pressing, then stroking it as though it were a petal on the most tantalizing rose. A moan escaped her, quieted by his lips on hers. His stroking continued as his middle finger slipped inside her, coaxing the juices out from the inside.

  "Luthias," she whispered, past his lips.

  A tear trickled down, one of relief and joy, as her anxieties faded. A second finger joined the first and she parted her thighs slightly, pressing into him, her own hand reaching to touch his waiting member. She was delighted to find it hard for her, familiar as she cupped its shaft. He slipped a third finger inside, and she gasped a laugh, shaking a bit as he pried her this way and that. Without prompting, his lips left hers and went to her breast, sucking hard, knowing how desperately it turned her on. She could hardly breathe, meekly holding her neglected mound, until he left her damp and puckered peak and switched to the other, wanting to render it just as swollen. His fingers danced inside her. She whimpered, aching.

  "I need you," she breathed.

  "Only me?" he asked.

  "Only you."

  He surprised her by flipping onto his back, letting her lower herself onto his enormous cock. She came down as far as she could and her fingers pressed against his pecks—“a-ah, ah, ahh, e-ah," was her cry, as she came down again, and again. Her cheeks were hot with lust as she gorged herself on him, tits bouncing up and down, their weight unreal against that narrow body. Impossibly wet, she pressed him to the furthest reaches of her quim, panting, groaning.

  "I-I'm coming!" she cried, and orgasm rocked her, clamping her tight around his phallas, just as he tensed up. It was her turn to surprise him as she suddenly removed herself from his member and slid down, still trembling with release as she touched a cock that might as well have been a loaded pistol. He stared with confusion at first, and then relief, when she began to lap the remnants of her own pleasure from his sensitive skin. Her mouth came down around him. Luthias reached down and gripped her hair, feeling her suck only briefly before release came fast. His seed was thick against her throat, and she swallowed willingly.

  She sat up, wiping her mouth. Even then, she averted her eye. Luthias leaned forward, lifting her chin to guide her gaze back to him.

  "You're forgiven," he said.

  Her heart soared. She kissed him, wrapping her arms around him tight, joy filling her being.

  "You're too kind," she whispered. "I don't deserve you..."

  He hushed her, pulling her into his embrace. For now, whatever dark secret rest in his mind would remain unsaid. The two of them would lay together as the moon rose high, content with one another.

  Chapter 6: Aftermath

  A strange dream plagued Elizabeth, that night. She was a
spectator as a dark-haired version of herself sat apart from Luthias, shaking with fury, staring at him from across his private study. Luthias appeared oblivious, a quill moving over a scroll with purpose.

  "That's it?" Emilie said.

  Luthias didn't respond.

  "You can't just pretend I don't exist, bastard, I'm the mother of your child."

  "A partling child is not an heir. It's my duty as lord to preserve the lineage."

  "Who gives a shit about your 'lineage'?!" she cried. "You can't just marry some purebred slut while I'm right here!"

  "Demons don't marry, they mate."

  "To hell with all of it!"

  Emilie snatched the scroll off the table, right out from under his quill, ripping it. Elizabeth had never seen such a look come over Luthias, somehow worse than the bloodlust she had witnessed just the day before. He rose and reached for the scroll, only to have Emilie hold it away and rip it in half, throwing it into the fire.

  "Do you...have any idea what you've done?"

  He spoke strangely, the words labored with rage and shock. His eyes shifted constantly from red to white and back, his body not understanding what sort of situation this was, if this was friend or foe or something that defied definition. He rose his hand as if to strike her, but she screamed before he could move again, bewildering him long enough that she could duck and flee to the doorway. She stood there with her hand on the handle yet she stared him down, daring him to come after her, daring him to do something.

  "What do you want from me, Emilie?" Luthias demanded, the words underscored by an inhuman roar.

  "I want you to love me," she said.

  Luthias stared. He seemed either overwhelmed or just...broken. Only then did Emilie leave, slamming the door behind her. He stood there, motionless, staring at where she had been—until he bellowed and shoved his hand right through a wall, decorating it with a spurt of blood. Nothing more than a specter, Elizabeth longed to comfort him, although she got a sense that her comforts wouldn't work on this man. He was in the midst of a transformation, which would bring him from that inhuman sneer to the flicker of a smile that made Elizabeth's heart melt.