His head slipped over her shoulder from behind and he laid his muzzle alongside hers, his warmth contrasting sharply with the cold that had cut through her bones for days, now.
She felt another warmth from him, down low and tight against his belly, still sheathed but already trembling with need when he brushed against her. He shifted his body slightly so she might not notice, as if his desire embarrassed him. Her heart raced as she felt the heat of him trapped between them, just as she remembered him, long, thick, hard, and quivering with need as she pressed back against his body, refusing to allow him to hide his desire. Her body's answering surge of lust surprised her with its force.
"I want ye," she breathed against his shaggy muzzle. It was no more than the truth. Whatever she had thought, however this had started, she no longer cared. A flood of desire dampened the fur at her opening.
His long, thick cock rose out of its hood to jump against her, as if it had a mind of its own, even while his voice protested. "Here? Now? Like this?"
She felt the question he did not ask, the silent plea for acceptance, for understanding of what he had become. "It has been so long. Too long. Wherever ye are is where my heart lives," she countered. She rocked her hips, stretching her legs out behind her until she could rub her yearning slit down the hard, burning length of him. "I have waited long enough. Years. Decades of wanting. Take me. Here. Now."
He ground his cock against her, letting her feel the hot pulsing need he could barely control, yet still he hesitated. "You. Only you."
His voice was the voice of the bear, but was there a man's lust behind his snuffled words? She reached out to him with her heart, trusting him with her secret. "There has been no other for me. How could there be, after what we shared? I feared I had grown too old, too–too respectable–to feel like this again. Make me feel alive again, Roahr. Make me remember how it was between us."
She pressed back against him, letting him feel the rising heat of her passion, drenching him with her need. His cock seemed to grow even harder, as if its enormous length were about to split the long, smooth sheath that held its root bound against his lower belly. She felt the weight of his lightly furred balls rubbing against her, contracting with desire as they brushed against her damp welcoming, then pressed against her once again.
"Take me!" she demanded. "I want to feel ye within me. I need…"
His control snapped. No matter how ready she was, she could never have been prepared for the fury with which his enormous cock plunged into her, his body shaking with need as he buried himself fully. She wanted to hold him there, to savor the feeling, but his teeth closed hard in the fur at the base of her neck, above the hump of her shoulders, rendering her helpless as he drove his hard length into her with a passion that assaulted her senses.
Rolling her beneath him he pinned her down to the dirt floor with his enormous weight, his quivering haunches moving so furiously as he pumped into her that she wondered if her body could contain him. She met him thrust for thrust, arching her pelvis hard against him, her muscles clenching around him desperately as she felt her climax build, then burst with release. Still he continued his assault, driving her farther and farther toward the limit of her endurance, demanding more when she shattered around him yet again.
The pleasure built until it was a nearly inescapable pain, a need so strong she felt she might break from the strength of it. "Now!" she screamed at the night. "Now!"
She felt the almost imperceptible change in him, felt his balls tighten as he surged into her again, harder and deeper with every stroke, the quivering need in him making his breath harsh against her neck, his heartbeat wild where his chest crushed against her shoulders. "Now!" she breathed again, her need as strong as his own. "Now!"
He broke.
With a roar that threatened to bring the small earthen den down around them he erupted into her, still thrusting against her as she tightened around him like a vise, shrieking out her pleasure in a cry as fierce as his own. The sweet stream of his seed washed over her, soothing her battered flesh as he grew still within her. His teeth released her as he laid his muzzle along hers, his heartbeat echoing through her like a bass drum in the sudden silence, his breath coming in long, drawn gasps.
Her heart beat in rhythm to his. His spent cock still pulsed within her as the aftershocks of their lovemaking coursed through her. Like a memory revisited, she held him, cherishing the sensations as they slowly subsided.
His weight crushed her in place, leaving her unable to move more than was necessary to draw in a labored breath, but she would not have moved had she been able. How could she have lived without this? How could she have endured the last decades with nothing more than his memory? If he left her now, if the man he had been was indeed too far gone to be brought back, how could she ever go on as if life had purpose and meaning without him?
"Mine," she sobbed against his grizzled beard. "Mine. Forever and always."
His forearms tightened around her as he rolled them to their sides. She pressed tighter against him to keep from breaking their bond. His body wrapped around her, sheltering and protecting even as his breathing became steadier. "Yours," he whispered gently against her ear. "Yours and yours alone, M'Lady. Never have I been anything else."
* * * * *
Yarwyn raced on ahead, Seanen close at her heels as they made for his apartment. He was tall, and long of leg, incredibly agile for a big man, but no match for her Elvin speed. She was through the door and starting to undress before he caught up with her. Her hands stilled as she felt him enter the room.
"Seanen?"
"I could be some thief, stealing in to take possession of you as my prize."
Despite herself she shivered at the suggestion. "You must teach me this trick of fading into the walls…"
He stepped from the shadows, advancing on her like a predator. "Do not stop now. Undress for me."
She searched his eyes, feeling suddenly small and vulnerable. "I–I am unpracticed in the art of seduction, I fear."
Seanen laughed softly. "Your every move seduces me." He helped her lift her fine mesh shirt free of her close-cropped silver hair. "'Tis your very lack of artifice that seduces me most."
Yarwyn peeled out of her undertunic, anxious to feel his hands on her skin. Only when she was naked did she realize that he had not yet begun to undress. "Where is my thief, come to steal my virtue?"
Seanen laughed at that. "Sometimes a thief uses a more direct approach to take what he wants." He drew her into his arms, his mouth slowly descending upon her neck, his hands skimming over her body, her breasts smashed against the cold steel of his mail shirt. "You should run, little one. Your virtue is not safe with me."
Yarwyn ran her hands over his thickly muscled forearms. "I cannot run. 'Tis too late. You hold my heart hostage."
His mouth worked its way up her neck in a series of small kisses, working its way closer and closer to her ear. She shivered in anticipation, already wet and wanting. One large hand clasped her buttocks, pulling her tightly against him, so that she could feel the hard length of his thick shaft through his leggings. His voice whispered hot against her ear, sending electrical shock waves of desire skimming down the length of her body. "Then I claim you as my prize, my captive heart, to do with as I will."
"Yes," she agreed as his tongue traced the outline of her ear. "Anything. My body is yours to command."
He released her abruptly. "Undress me."
She smiled her cat smile as she reached to help him shrug out of his chain mail shirt. Slowly, deliberately, she skimmed her hands up his sides, then down the length of his muscular arms as she pulled the undertunic over his head. Loosening the ties on his leggings she managed to brush her fingers across his bulging erection several times as she struggled with the knot. Finally she lowered her head to set to work on the knot with her teeth.
By the time she had it undone he was trembling beneath her fingers, his hands fisted in her hair. But when she would have taken him in
to her mouth, he moved away, lifting her easily until her mouth met his own, claiming, possessing once again. He supported her easily with one hand under the curve of her hips as he carried her to the ancient four-poster bed.
"My captive must follow my rules," he whispered. He laid her gently out on the bed, taking the time to settle her head carefully in the pillows, arranging pillows under her hips, leaving her knees spread wide, so that he had full view of her swollen labia, puffed with desire for him.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"You must simply take whatever I give you. Keep your hands to yourself." And then he proceeded to make that nothing nearly impossible, as he worked his way up from her ankles with slow, tantalizing kisses.
She felt the flood of moisture drench her channel before he even reached the top of her inner thighs, and she wanted desperately to pull him against her, tangling his long, heavy hair in her fingers, but instead she arched off the pillows, offering her mons up to him as a sacrifice. He laughed, but continued to kiss his way up her thighs.
Inspiration claimed her. If she could not touch him…she reached down to spread herself open before him, making sure he had a clear view as she circled her swollen clit with her finger, moaning wordlessly as the need to climax shook through her.
"You cheat."
"Do not." Her voice came in thick, hard pants. "You said I could not touch you."
His tongue nudged her fingers aside, circling, then lapping over her throbbing clit. Yarwyn surrendered her position to him, only to move her fingers to tweak her jutting nipples. She heard him groan as he looked up to see her stroke and pinch the aching tips. "Cheater," his whispered again, though there was laughter in his voice.
"Thief," she countered. She came almost instantly as he slipped two fingers deep into her, thrusting gently in time to his expert sucking. She shook beneath him like a willow in high winds as the power of it tore through her, sure she would shatter and break like some delicate vase.
Seanen only slipped his hands beneath her hips to raise her up so that he could thrust his tongue deep within her, stroking her inner walls as he pushed her to the limits of her endurance, withdrawing only long enough to lave her aching clit once again. She screamed out his name as she shattered around him again, forgetting the rules as she reached for him, her hands stroking his ears, pushing him down harder against her as she shook beneath his touch.
"Seanen!" she cried again. "I cannot–I –"
"Is there something you want, my love?"
"You. Inside me. Now!"
He moved to oblige, kneeling between her thighs, lifting supple legs until her heels rested nearly against her own shoulders as he slid slowly between her swollen lips and into her tight, drenched sheath. She cried out again with his first long, slow thrust, straining to hold him deep within her, moaning with desire as he withdrew, only to thrust in again, stroking into her with an infuriating control that threatened to shatter her mind as well as her body.
"Tell me," he demanded. "Tell me what you want."
"Anything. Everything."
"More."
"Yes, more!"
He shifted again, sitting back on his knees as he hooked her legs over his elbows, granting him even deeper penetration. She started to reach for him, then decided instead to torture him as he did her, using his own rules. Lifting one breast to make sure he had a perfect view, she licked her fingers, then deliberately outlined the nipple, watching his eyes darken as she slowly massaged the aching bud of desire.
She watched his control snap as she pinched the tip, then rolled it between damp fingers. He slammed into her harder, slow forgotten as her body responded to him, meeting him thrust for thrust, clenching around him tightly with each stroke. She came again as he increased his pace to a furious pounding, driving her backwards into the pillows as he lost all control, screaming her name as he came within her. She shattered again as the hot gush of his seed washed over her, her muscles spasming around him as she milked him of all that he had to give.
"You never play by the rules," he laughed as he collapsed over her.
Yarwyn wrapped her legs around his waist, holding them tied together as he grew smaller within her, his hot length still pulsing with the aftershocks of their collision. "I never was good with rules," she admitted, still struggling to catch her breath. "We can try again, if you like. Perhaps I'll get it right next time."
"Give me a few minutes to recover," Seanen managed, his head curled against her chest, his arms still wrapped around her possessively.
Yarwyn stroked her fingers through his tangled hair. "Will you not tire of me, M'Lord, now that you have the entire Clan of the Wolf to choose from?"
"Did I not tell you?" he answered, his voice already heavy with sleep. "Wolves mate for life."
* * * * *
Roahr tightened his paws around her possessively as he felt her body shift within his arms. But as he came more fully awake he understood what was happening.
Her magic was fading.
The dream was ending once again.
He wanted to wake her up, to warn her before she slipped away completely, but he merely held her, knowing it would be no use. She was what she was. This form was only magic for her. She could not live like this. Not as he could.
He wanted to open his muzzle and scream out his pain to the world as his heart shattered within him once again. He would not lose her again. He could not. Without her he was nothing. Less than nothing. The man he had been was as lost as his people, yet the bear was no true bear. They knew the difference and shunned him, as well they should. He was an impostor, masquerading, welcome nowhere. He would never be accepted as one of their kind.
Yet to be a man, to think as a man, to feel as a man…To hurt again. To risk again. His arms tightened around the small, frail being who held his heart. To love again…
There were others to think about as well. The woman at the camp had called him Father, and he knew not so much as her name. Logic said she must be Tranorva, his firstborn, for he sensed within her no fear of the thing he had become. He remembered her as a child still in his heart, so small and so fragile. Yet Evalayna had been sure she would grow to be a Warrior, as he was himself.
As he had been, so long ago.
How had she known him? His firstborn would be named to his clan as her inheritance. Was there more than years of established tradition behind that custom? Could she truly be one of his own? Tyrell had clearly inherited his mother's magic, as well as her heritage, being able to assume her clan totem form almost from birth. The wild child had spent more time as a wolf than as a boy. What would the little hellion have grown into?
Did he yet live?
What of the one Evalayna had carried when–no, not when he'd lost her. When the poser had separated them. For surely the lying tongued weasel had done this apurpose.
Evalayna moved within his arms, burrowing more tightly against his thick fur. He sniffed at her hair, remembering the scent of her, the feel of her in his man-arms so long ago. He'd seen her expression when he'd followed the Warrior-woman back to the dome. He'd felt her fear when the understanding hit her. Seen too the sorrow in her eyes when she moved to touch him…it was the pity he'd run from, as much as anything.
Yet she'd come after him. She'd followed him here, knowing. Surely, if she could accept him as a bear, she could accept him as a man.
No. It was too late. He had spent too many years here, alone, hiding from what he had been, what he had lost. Yet he sensed this was yet another lie he told himself. The feel of her body in his arms was too familiar, too comforting. The desire he felt for her was too strong. Perhaps the change was no longer his choice. Perhaps the change had begun the day her scent had first reached him on the night air. Perhaps his future was as inevitably locked within hers as was his heart.
Chapter Six
The storm had spent its fury during the night. As the early morning light began to chase the
shadows back down the wall Evalayna awoke to the feel of arms around her, cradling her, protecting her.
Her magic had faded. She was once again a child of the Northlands. The arms that held her tightened as she came awake.
They were a man's arms.
Roahr had come back to her.
Smothering a sigh of relief, she snuggled closer, content just to be near the man once again.
"I have been so alone without you."
"And I." She turned slowly in his arms to face him, feeling him tense, prepared for her rejection. She tried to steel herself, to contain whatever she felt. Whatever he looked like now, she would not send him back to where he had been with one careless word. She looked up to meet his eyes, searching the deep green depths for the man she had known. She saw uncertainty there, and a need for acceptance.
Whatever she had tried to prepare herself for, this was not it. He was but a man. Older, perhaps leaner, but the naked skin beneath her hands was soft and clean, and the hands that touched her were the hands of a man. There were subtle changes–small lines framing his eyes, silver streaking his long unruly beard. There were much less subtle changes. His beautiful red hair hung in a twisted mass that reached nearly to his waist. It too was streaked heavily with silver. But beneath it all was the face of the man she remembered.
She smiled as she slipped her arms around his shoulders and up, until she could coax his head close enough to taste his lips in the strange custom of his people. They were soft, and warm, and gentle against hers, his touch asking a lifetime of questions. She kissed him again, asking him to feel, and not think. But he needed the words. She teased him with a gentle nip on his sensuously curved lower lip. "I missed ye as the Tundra misses the spring. I love ye, Roahr."
He searched the depths of her eyes with that intense stare of his. "How can you say that, after all this time? After what I have allowed myself to become?"
She ran her fingertips over what he had become. The smooth, pale skin. The narrow waist above lean hips. The hard muscled chest. The broad, powerful shoulders. "Never have I ceased to love ye. Forever and always, remember?" She closed her eyes as his mouth dipped towards hers, his lips gentle as they explored, the tentative touch of a butterfly's wing brushing over her skin, so soft and so poignantly sweet.
Way of The WOlf: The Northlanders Book I Page 29
