Goldie's Three Werebears (Steamy Werebear Shifter FMMM Menage Romance)

by Nikki Wild

The deputy puffed up his chest. Instead of answering my question, he unrolled a parchment and started to laboriously read the words aloud. "Our sac...sacrifice is made on this day. We beg for the forest's con...continued protect...protection as acknowledgment of our tritty."

  "Treaty," I muttered.

  "Be quiet girl. Show some reverence." The constable darted his eyes quickly into the encroaching woods as if he expected something to jump out and punish me for my insolence.

  I had had enough. "And why should I do that? I am expected to walk into the woods and face my certain death just to keep the rest of you safe. This is not reverence, this is murder."

  The deputy gave me a hard shove in the chest, knocking me down to the muddy road. "May the gods forgive you. Now go."

  I scrambled back to my feet. "May the gods forgive you," I answered. Then I turned my back to the stammering men. I only had a few more minutes to live. I didn't want to waste them with fools.

  Each step took me further and further away from the only life I had ever known. In all my nineteen years, I had never been further than the edge of my small village. But I had seen every inch of it, including some haylofts and back rooms that my mother would be scandalized to know I had frequented. I wasn't the unsullied virgin they all believed me to be. Living my life knowing I was to be sacrificed gave me a yearning to experience as much as I could before my time was up.

  I spent much of that time experiencing the stable boys’ cocks.

  I heard a little giggle tear from my throat and soon I was laughing out loud. The trees swallowed up my laughter, a heavy silence hanging over everything. But still I walked and as I walked, I laughed.

  Because this was just so absurd.

  The more I walked, the more I wondered what was stopping me from just continuing down this road and into the great unknown. There had to be villages out there. Villages that were not held in thrall by murderous wolves who demanded blood sacrifice at odd intervals. If I continued down this road, I could just walk out of my life entirely. There was nothing to do but just put one foot in front of the other.

  And the thought bloomed in my mind; I heard a noise over my shoulder. I froze, heart pounding, as I stared into the dense trees.

  "Who is there?" I called.

  There was no response, unless you counted the moan of the wind and the creak of bough against bough.

  I shuddered, feeling suddenly colder. I pulled the blood-red sacrificial cloak more tightly around my shoulders and quickened my step.

  This time the noise was over my other shoulder. I whirled around and caught the faintest glimpse of a gray shadow in the trees.

  "Who is there?!" I demanded.

  The shapes were so large it seemed that they unwound from the trees themselves. Two wolves, larger and more powerful than any I had seen before, strode out from the forest.

  I felt my heart drop to my shoes. My knees gave out and I sank down into the mud. "So this is it," I said. "There is no escaping my sacrifice. Instead of me going to you, you have come to me." I closed my eyes tightly. "Please be quick about it."

  I knelt there, waiting for that first stab of pain, waiting for their teeth to sink into my flesh and devour me. I waited, feeling nothing except the unfairness of it all.

  I heard a low exhalation. When I opened my eyes, one of the wolves was sitting in front of me, his posture one of bored indifference. When he saw that I had opened my eyes, he stood back up and trotted in front of me. Pausing to look back over his shoulder, he leapt into the trees.

  "Oh," I said, and moved to follow. The second wolf, gave me a slight nudge with his head and I stepped into the forest.

  "I can't see you!" I called into the trees. "It's getting dark and your eyes are better than mine."

  I heard that exhalation again. It truly did sound like a sigh of exasperation. Then the first wolf came trotting back into view. He came just to the edge of my vision and sat.

  "I see you now," I said. "Thank you."

  I tried to hurry along, but the silver flash seemed always just out of my range of sight. We plunged deep into the thick forest and it was not very long before I was completely turned around. Trees, roots, bramble and branches all clutched and clawed at my arms and legs. The cloak tangled in a tree limb and I screamed in frustration. "Where are we going?" I demanded.

  The first wolf trotted back into view. He came right up to me and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end when he ducked his head and took my arm into his jaws.

  But instead of clamping down, he only tugged gently. I allowed myself to be led a few steps. The trees fell away and I walked into a clearing bathed in silvery moonlight.

  Before me rose the dark hulk of a lonely mountain. And there in the rock face was the deep black of an opening. A cave, dark and forbidding. The wolf tugged my arm gently and we stepped inside.

  I put my hand to my throat. The silver pin was still fastened there. I felt the pull of wickedness, and I took my hand away without removing it. Let the wolves see the silver. Let them be as afraid of me as I was of them.

  As we stepped into the cave, I felt a vibration in the air. Suddenly, I was not walking with two wolves. Rather, I was flanked by two tall, deeply muscled men.

  I barely had time to register my shock before one of them grabbed a torch from the wall and turned to me. "Tarla. We have been waiting for you."

  I wanted to ask how he knew my name, but before I could form the words, we stepped into a great chamber. The ceiling rose high above us, nearly invisible. All around us were pools of torchlight and before us a great bonfire roared. And around the bonfire stood wolves and men.

  Behind the men was a raised platform upon which a wolf sat. When he looked down and spied me, the air vibrated around us. The wolf shimmered and dissipated, simultaneously stretching and shrinking until he stepped forward in the form of a gray-haired man.

  "Tarla," he boomed heartily, his voice echoing off of the stone walls of the cavern. He spoke my name as if it was an answered prayer. "You are welcome."

  I looked at the assembly. Hungry eyes stared back at me. "Are you mocking me?" I demanded. "Why would you give me welcome?"

  The gray haired man laughed. "Why wouldn't we welcome you? This is a celebration!"

  My mother's pious posturing flashed in my head and my resentment flared anew. "I am so thrilled that my death is so easy for everyone to celebrate."

  The gray haired man rose from his makeshift throne and nimbly hopped down from his platform. "Death?"

  I was getting angry. "Do what it is I am here for. If I am to die, just get it over with."

  "What do you think you are here for?" The gray haired man demanded.

  "I am the sacrifice. I am here for you to devour me so that my village stays safe."

  The laughter of the men mixed with the howls of the wolves until all of their voices were an echoing cacophony around me. I stood in the midst of their mirth with anger rising like fire through me. I felt hot color bloom on my cheeks and my stomach twisted. "Enough!" I cried, my voice louder that the din that surrounded it. "Silence!"

  The laughter ceased immediately. Only the faint echo remained.

  The gray haired man nodded as if I had spoken a great truth. "You were born for this," he nodded. "The blood of the wolf runs in your veins."

  My hot rage was clouding my judgment. "I was born to be my village's sacrifice, yes I know this. Now will you please just get it over with?"

  "We are not going to eat you, Tarla!" a voice shouted from the crowd.

  "Well, only a little." Loud shouts of laughter greeted this speaker's jest.

  I turned angrily to the gray haired man. "What aren't you telling me?"

  "The women in your village are the last of a dying breed," the gray-haired man explained. "You are the only ones with whom our kind can mate."

  I felt hot thudding in my ears that had nothing to do with anger. "Mate?"

  "If you prove worthy, Tarla, you will be our queen."

  I looke
d out over the crowd of men gathered watching. I saw several of them nod their heads. Others bowed in reverence.

  "Your queen?"

  "Yes Tarla. You will reign over all of us. We will pledge our lives to you and you will give us the next generation of our pack. But first, we must bind you to us."

  I felt heat rising up from my core. I was suddenly aware of the fact that I was the only female in the room. All around me was a swirling mass of masculinity. Each one of them was taller, broader and stronger looking than the last.

  But they weren't men. They were wolves.

  I shuddered as I felt their eyes on me again. "So I am not going to die today."

  The gray haired man chuckled. "No, not today."

  "Today I become your queen."

  "Today the pack bonds with you," he clarified. "And then you become our queen."

  A shiver of knowing thrilled through me. "What must I do?"

  The gray haired man nodded. Then he ran round the fire and leapt. Midway through his leap, a gray wolf burst out from the man, so that the beast landed on the platform with four paws. He then lifted his shaggy head to the invisible ceiling and let out a great howl.

  The rest of them howled in turn, men and wolves alike. The sound ripped through me, rattling my ribcage and sending vibrations down through my toes. It was a wild, uninhibited sound. It was the sound of freedom and it thrilled every inch of me. I lifted my head and howled my own pale imitation of their call.

  The cave fell silent. I could hear rapid, excited breathing, murmurs of appraisal, the snuffling of snouts in the air.

  The gray wolf let out a short bark. There were several answering howls and then a man stepped forward from the crowd. He tall and deeply tanned, with the ropey, rangey muscles that come from a life in the wild.

  He looked at me. In two strides he was in front of me and my sacrificial cloak was in a heap on the floor. "Hello, my queen," he murmured, his voice halfway between human and animal. "Don't be scared. I'm not going to hurt you." He licked his lips as he eyed me up and down. "I'm just going to make you scream."

  He placed his heavy hands on my shoulders, forcing me down to my knees. I knelt there, blinking, as he undid the scrap of leather that hung around his waist. And then I gasped.

  Remember that I am no blushing virgin. I thought I had tasted what men had to offer. But this was something else entirely. This tool of perfection was beyond my experience. Long and thick, it bobbed in front of my gaze already rock hard, the tip glistening slightly with the evidence of his desire. I licked my lips as he cupped his hand around the shaft and clenched the muscles of my core as they suddenly ached and throbbed. My head, which only moments before had been filled with resentment and rage now was clouded with a strange, wild desire. I had escaped death. Now I intended to live.

  I shuffled closer, bringing my head up level with that bobbing cock. Then I looked up at him. The thrill of the howling was still rippling through my veins. I licked my lips, opened my mouth and prepared to take him in.

  I stretched my lips wide around his girth, feeling the smooth skin of the bulbous head slip past my lips. I heard a soft, low sound, and realized it was coming from both of us.

  I swirled my tongue around him, flicking it along the tip and he growled slightly, allowing me to take control. I closed my small fist around his girth and laved the whole of him with long, slow laps of my tongue. The thrill that the howling had set off in my body moved downward. I felt my core begin to beat a steady, pulsing rhythm that echoed the motion of my head as I bobbed up and down that beautiful shaft.

  He snarled and pulled me back. "They call me Bardur," he rasped. "You have my allegiance, my queen."

  Then he flung me backward onto the hard stone floor. I gasped to find my legs in the air, my swirling skirts pooling up around my thighs as he lifted my legs up over his shoulders.

  I felt his hot breath on my thigh and I cried out when his tongue found my center. He slowly licked me, from the base of my puckered opening all the way up to my suddenly awakened nub.

  I wasn’t expecting this. I wasn’t ready to be so turned on so quickly. But his tongue was darting in and out of me, drawing a gasp from me each time his head bobbed between my legs. I could feel my body responding to him and I tentatively placed my hands on his shaggy head. I hesitantly guided him to concentrate on my buzzing, needful center, and he paused for a moment to smile wetly up at me.

  “You may scream if you need to, my queen.”

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  I’m Nikki Wild, and I live in Southern California with my cat, my loving husband, and a genuine creeping fear of bad wine. I’ve been writing independently for three years now, and I’m in love with my readers every bit as much as I’m in love with my words! Every story I release brings me joy and pleasure, and knowing I’m able to spread a bit of that happiness to others makes every day of my life just a little bit better.

  Thank you for giving me the chance to live my dreams. Thank you for giving me the chance to be an author. I owe everything to you, dear reader, and I hope in repayment, I can excite your senses and make your every night just a little bit better.

  – Nikki Wild