by Anh Leod
He said her name again, then she lost control, bliss coming over her in waves. He pulled out as her inner walls began to clench at him, pushing gently into her other hole.
“I don’t want to stop,” he said.
She leaned forward to give him the permission he craved, still locked in her orgasm.
He thrust slowly into her virgin hole. She felt no pain through her pleasure, letting him take her as the waves of her orgasm controlled any fear she might have felt at having her anus breached. This was mating, this was coming home. She wanted him to take everything she had to offer, endlessly. But she had gripped him with her body and he couldn’t resist her tight rear channel long. Soon the warmth of his cum filled her, the new sensation bringing her to another, even stronger peak.
As he pulled out, they both sank to their knees.
“I’ll never forget this,” he said, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. “I feel a million times better.”
“I’m glad.”
“I’m so happy about the baby. I didn’t hurt you just now, did I?”
She heard his concern and smiled sleepily. “I’m a wolf. You can’t hurt me with sex. Remember our first night together?”
“How could I forget? You’re made for me,” he said against her hair. “Tonight was magic.”
After a few minutes, he stood up and stepped into the center of the shower spiral and turned off the water, then returned with thick towels for them both. Her body had given in to fatigue, so she let him dry her off and lead her into his bedroom, where he tucked her in.
“Aren’t you coming to bed now?” she asked.
“I’ve got work to do. I’ll sleep on the sofa in my office, so I don’t disturb you. I don’t have time to do more than take a nap.”
“You should have been sleeping now,” she said, feeling bad. “I stole your rest time.” Though time had seemed to stop in the shower, she had the feeling they’d made love for nearly an hour.
“Don’t regret it for a second,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “I don’t. That was so much better than sleep.”
She snuggled into the pillow. It smelled like him.
“Get some rest,” he commanded.
She obeyed so swiftly that she didn’t hear him leave the room.
Chapter Eight
The next day she was back in Nana’s basement on her stool, a little more stiffly than the day before, a product of her night in a strange bed and Pompey’s very thorough lovemaking. She was huddled over another of the books from the cabinet, this one a manuscript of legends in the ancient tongue. Other than her stiffness, everything seemed so much the same that she wondered if her hour with Pompey had ever happened. She almost wanted to leave and drive back to his house to check for evidence of her moments there.
She was resolute about getting her work done though. Time was short and she had to finalize wedding preparations too so she couldn’t stay working late into the night. Thankfully there wasn’t much to be done when you were getting married at City Hall.
The night had made changes in her despite her sense of unreality. She felt different, more committed, and her hopes for her marriage were different too. If that were all she had nibbling at the back of her brain she’d be content. There had been nothing but peace and pleasure between them. Perhaps their long separation had taken the fight out of him and her concern about his health had taken the irritation out of her.
He hadn’t been there when she woke up and hadn’t left a note or any other clue as to his feelings. Just like last time, but there was a difference since she knew how busy and tired he was. His lack of communication wasn’t responsible for her new sense of danger. She had never been psychic but perhaps her pregnancy was changing her. Either that or reading the ancient tongue was having an effect. She knew something was very wrong. Sadness, despair, shame and disgrace. Nana’s words from July’s tarot reading drifted back into her head. She dismissed the memory. That was all past now. Those words were the story of the night she and Pompey had met. She couldn’t approach Nana now when she was so focused on the Nana had told her not to read, but if she did have another reading she was sure the tarot cards would offer her an entirely different picture.
What could she do, except continue with her work? Hopefully she’d at least opened a channel of communication with her mate. In reality, their future was brighter than before, no matter her nerves. Maybe all of her foreboding was pregnancy hormones again, like last night’s tears.
She pulled the next scroll case from the locked cabinet. Why were the books in scroll cases instead of book boxes anyway? Were they translations from even older materials?
Gently, she blew dust away from the cover. Her eyes widened as she translated the symbols worked into the leather. On the Treatment of Humors? Could this be practical medicine or magic at last? Eagerly, she began to read.
* * * * *
Magnus stretched his legs in the parking lot of the lodge building where he’d just given a luncheon speech. He ignored the gray sky and light drizzle, grateful for a moment alone. Could it really be only a month and a day until the election? It already seemed like he’d been giving speeches and talking to constituents so long that his lips were ready to split from all the smiling. Where would he find the strength?
Thank Jupiter for Bijou and even the fender bender that had brought her to him last night. The sex had been incredible and he felt five years younger than he had before seeing her, loving her last night. Certainly not restored to his former robust strength but on the road back.
He glanced at his watch. Where was his driver? He had resorted to help from a Legion youth, Septimus, so he could make calls while being zigzagged across town. That and he was hoping to avoid further accidents. He bit back a yawn as he pulled out his cell phone to call his driver, but there was Septimus with the car now.
Stepping carefully to avoid getting mud on his shoes, he pulled open the unlocked back door of the sedan and got in.
“Alpha,” Septimus greeted. His voice sounded strained.
Magnus frowned. What had happened to his driver’s usual juvenile cheer? Usually the kid greeted him with a silly joke. He gave the dark-eyed youth a tired smile. “I didn’t think to check my schedule. Where are we off to next?”
“The preserve properties.”
“Why there? The sale hasn’t been finalized yet.”
The kid shrugged and smiled, a little forced, Magnus thought. Was something wrong or was he simply imagining things?
It was probably just the gloom of the day and the lack of sleep. He put his cell phone to his ear and checked his messages.
* * * * *
Bijou found herself hitting the limits of her translation ability very quickly. This book was more technical than the others and she had to guess at many of the symbol meanings. The book seemed to be part herbal medicine guide, part book of spells. At least there were pictures of some of the herbs and she recognized treatments including fumitory, borage and dandelion though she didn’t understand much of the text beneath them.
Then there were the spells. The language was more common there and often referred to the humors and elements of water and air, earth and fire. Her gaze scanned the text. What were you supposed to do with these spells? Chant them while you were compounding herbal remedies? Say them under a full moon? They could even be part of sex magic, like this one here, To Share Strength With a Partner.
She felt a gust of air rush into the room as the door opened. Instinctively, she pushed the ancient book behind her to protect it.
Nana stepped in, holding a tray. “I brought you some lunch, dear. I know you’re happy as a cub in June down here, but you have to think of the baby.” She plunked the wooden tray on Bijou’s lap.
“Minestrone and fresh bread, plus salad. Very healthy.”
“Thanks, Nana.” She was touched by the attention, but she’d rather get back to the book than eat. “How did you know I was pregnant?”
“Barkley
told me.”
The advisor shared too much, Bijou thought sourly. Could he see deceit too? Was Nana here for more than to bring her food? She hadn’t offered before.
“What’s this?” Nana asked, moving to her left as Bijou took a bite of bread. “Why is this cabinet unlocked?”
Uh-oh. “Wasn’t it supposed to be?” Bijou asked slowly.
“These belong to my family,” Nana said. “They aren’t part of the official archive.” She grabbed one of the scroll boxes and put it on a shelf, then moved toward the others.
Bijou turned on her stool, placing her tray over the box she’d dropped the tenth book into and closed in her elbows around it, so Nana couldn’t see her blocking one of the boxes.
Thankfully, Nana didn’t seem aware of the number of scroll boxes and appeared satisfied with eleven of them.
“There we go,” She said, locking the cabinet. “You have plenty to look at in your last weeks here, Bijou, without digging into my family’s private things.”
Bijou forced a smile, even as she felt a door slamming between her and her Brotherhood past. Nana had never referred to the time she had left before. It felt like a betrayal, even though she was one changing loyalties.
She wasn’t though, was she? She would still be loyal to the Brotherhood, even married to the Legion alpha. But that wasn’t realistic and Nana knew that.
“Thanks for the lunch,” she called, hoping Nana would bustle out, certain that Bijou didn’t know how to translate the ancient language. Nothing in those scroll cases might be of value, but that one spell in particular was certainly intriguing.
* * * * *
Septimus parked in front of an old farmhouse that abutted the first of six properties the wildlife preserve fund was purchasing. The place looked deserted.
Magnus put his phone back into his pocket. “Who am I meeting here? The buyers? Offering more reassurances that they’re doing the right thing?”
The passenger door to his left opened. “No,” said an oily voice. “You’re meeting me.”
Magnus looked up to see the stocky form of Brutus in loose-fitting clothing. His eyes had gone black, ready for battle. Magnus could smell bloodlust on the shape-shifter. Two of Brutus’ relatives stood behind him, young men in the peak of physical strength. His eyes narrowed as the reality of his situation hit him. The bastard was going to challenge him for alpha status today of all days! Why not wait until the full moon? It was less than a week away.
Then he knew the full extent of Julian and Brutus’ plan. Even if they only beat him to a pulp today, he wouldn’t heal quickly like he would in wolf form. He’d still be in the hospital on Election Day. He’d miss all his campaigning time, even his own wedding. They intended to finish him, whether he was dead or not.
The rough hands of Brutus’ sturdy cousins pulled him from the sedan. He pulled back, ripping his coat jacket.
Brutus frowned. “Stronger than I thought, considering your appearance lately. I guess the camera does lie a little.” He aimed a punch at Magnus’ stomach.
Unable to move away from it, since he was backed up against the car, he took the full force of Brutus’ fist pounding his ribs.
“Why today?” he ground out. “The election is important for all of us. We need a shape-shifter presence in politics. You think this preserve will go through without my support?”
“Your rival is in my pocket too,” Julian sneered, stepping down from the porch where he’d been standing while Magnus received the first punch. “We’ll get what we want, everything that’s ours. It’s time to take back what your father stole.”
Magnus couldn’t care less about defending his father and his fair combat defeat of the alpha before him. Their rocky relationship was of the past. He worried about his child, his mate. What would his death do to them? Did they know about Bijou? Would they go after her next to completely avenge their family?
Brutus grabbed Magnus’ tie, jerking him forward. The air stopped flowing between Magnus’ lungs and brain, making his head swim.
Knowing he didn’t have much strength, he decided he’d have to fight dirty. He leaned into Brutus, then brought his knee up between the other shape-shifter’s legs. His knee slammed into hard plastic. The bastard was wearing a protective cup.
Magnus fell back in shock. He didn’t even have car keys to use as a weapon, because the traitorous Septimus had them. All he had were his wallet and cell phone.
Brutus’ fist rose. Magnus turned and ran as fast as his weakened body allowed, pulling his cell phone from his pocket as he headed into the farmland.
Most shape-shifters didn’t exercise. They didn’t need to, since their human form reflected the time they spent in the shape of an active wolf. But Magnus liked to run. It was his escape from an alpha and politician’s life of responsibility and limited privacy. In fact, that’s what he’d been doing the night the Brotherhood caught him. Certainly he couldn’t outpace a teenage shape-shifter in wolf form, but he could stay ahead of Brutus for a time, at least.
He found Bijou’s phone number, thankful his secretary had programmed it in.
“Hello?”
“Bijou, it’s Magnus.” Hearing her voice brought back poignant memories of the night before, how touched he’d been that she’d come to bring him strength and share news of their pregnancy.
Paper rustled. “You sound out of breath.”
“I’m running for my life. Brutus is going to kill me. I’m sorry. I’m not strong enough. And he’s well prepared. Get to your brothers. Make sure you’re protected in case they come after you next.”
She broke into his speech before he could tell her how he felt, how thrilled he was that she cared about him. “How can I help?”
Were their bonds strong enough now for him to ask for help? Could he trust his mate? True mates’ lives were intertwined and he now realized one couldn’t succeed without the other. Perhaps she had understood this before he had and maybe there was a way out of this. He couldn’t let her die. “Would the Brotherhood ally with me?”
“I don’t know. But my brothers, I’ll call them.” She sounded uncertain.
He immediately regretted his request for help. She needed to stay out of this. He could find a way to survive on his own. “I don’t want you to get involved. Your first priority is the baby. They’re out for blood. They’ll do more than shame me and I don’t know if they know about you.”
He heard his voice catch in his throat. He looked back. He’d gained a hundred yards on Brutus but eventually the cousins would come in cars, or Septimus would, the damned traitor. Would there be enough time for help from the Brotherhood, if they would even help their clanswoman’s secret mate? He’d have called his own loyal friends and supporters in the Legion, but Bijou’s safety was his first priority and he only had time for one call.
“I saw a spell, Magnus, just this morning in a book hidden in a secret cache at Barkley and Nana’s house. I don’t even know if this magic spell works.”
“What are you talking about?” He gasped as much as spoke the words now, as he ran.
“I’ve been translating material from an ancient tongue. This spell is called ‘to share strength with a partner’,” she said. “I’ll recite it. Maybe it will work.”
“Don’t,” he shouted. As an alpha he was vaguely aware of the ancient magic, and knew it had stopped being used long ago for good reason. “You might hurt yourself or the baby. I don’t want your strength. You need it.”
But it was too late. As he ran she started speaking unintelligible phrases in that bell-clear voice of hers. “Call your brothers,” he ordered, trying to get her to stop, but she ignored him.
She paused for a second, then continued to recite. Suddenly he felt the wind in his ears more keenly, a wolf’s senses rather than a man’s. The hair on his head prickled, as if the longer strands were receding into his head and new follicles were erupting. His nose began to itch like it was forming into a wolf’s snout.
But it wasn’t the full
moon. What was happening?
His skull elongated and began to taper forward. His jaw grew and his teeth strengthened. The cell phone dropped to the ground as his hand became a paw. He bent down on all fours and skidded to a stop, his clothes shredding around him.
He was back! Even his ribs had stopped hurting where Brutus punched him. He was full of the joy of the hunt, despite the day, despite the sunshine. As long as Brutus and his allies weren’t packing guns with silver bullets he would be the victor that day. No one stuck in human form could best a wolf.
He took off like a shot back toward Brutus. He could run close to forty miles an hour in wolf speed, so it didn’t take more than an instant to return him to his rival. That was all the time he had to think of Bijou, hope his mate and child were safe, hope there had been some strength in Bijou’s body left for them.
At the sight of the wolf, Brutus stopped running forward. His face was red with exertion and Magnus felt satisfaction that his exercise routine had finally been justified after years of derision from Julian and others. Brutus’ eyes lost a little of their black rage.
“What?” he asked. “How?”
Magnus growled at Brutus. The high-pitched noise he made ended at a snapping snatch for the shape-shifter’s throat. Brutus fell over backward, confusion still in his eyes, then was still.
Magnus woofed in surprise then circled the unmoving form. His keen sense of smell picked up the hot bite of blood in the air. Yes, it was trickling from the side of Brutus’ skull. The traitor’s heart had stopped beating.
He pawed at the figure, enough to find a rock under Brutus’ head. To think this is what would take the shape-shifter out. He hadn’t even needed to kill Brutus. The gods were aligned with him. Bijou’s sacrifice had won the day. But would there be a cost?
He howled his victory to the sky then took off at a fast lope toward the farmhouse where danger still waited. The figures of Brutus’ four allies were soon in sight. He saw their shock at his werewolf form. Before they could react in any meaningful way, he raised his paw to each of the four faces and swiped his claws across their tender human flesh, marking their cheeks to the bone.
