Bride of Glass

by Jeanette Lynn

  “Definitely not me,” I muttered resignedly.

  A heavy chuff to my left signaling Tokre was awake had me laughing nervously, partly in excitement, because my nutso ass was suddenly bursting at the seams happy he’d opened his crazy, wild, tar black eyeballs, and another part of me was shaking with nervous anticipation.

  He’s awake, that thrumming hummingbird in my chest sang, while my head screamed, Back that shit up, girl! Whoa now!

  A peek over my shoulder and my soft brown eyes blinked, my head jerking back in surprise as I found myself surrounded by wide, dark peepers pitch as black staring down at me.

  He was so close our noses could almost touch, his lips pinched tight so he wasn’t breathing directly in my face.

  “Rrrr-ssss-eee mnnnn,” his deep voice rumbled out softly.

  No matter how hard he tried, everything came out on a growl—the male was just naturally menacing. I knew better now, and a small smile curved my mouth.

  “Feeling more like your usual, bossy self, I see,” I teased. Reaching up hesitantly, I pressed my hand to the middle of his chest, giving the spot a reassuring pat.

  “Tokre Rosie’s,” I parroted, making a funny purring noise in my chest that made Tokre jerk then purr back.

  Falling back laughing, I chortled, staring up at his shocked face to laugh harder. His purr never faltered. I couldn’t hide how relieved I felt just to know he was well and truly on the mend. Was he completely healed? Of course not. It was only a matter of time though, and he’d be right as rain.

  Tokre squeezed himself closer, until he was looming over me, his furry legs pressing against mine. A deep, happy rumble rattled his massive chest, vibrating from his chest and straight into mine.

  “You heal so damned fast,” I marveled, frowning slightly when I spotted the long slash of pale white along his shoulder. I traced the spot, a thin sheen of baby fine hair already sprouting up over it. This wasn’t just the work of a good healing salve and special tea, this was a beast dude thing.

  Strong fingers dusted with fur smoothed over my brow, as if to ease the harsh lines marring my face. His fingers were rough but gentle, massaging the frown lines away idly.

  “Better?” I asked sweetly, wiggling my eyebrows and pointing to my forehead.

  Tokre let out a short grunt of approval and his hand fell away. Leaning forward, his lips closed over his teeth and he carefully pressed his flattened lips to mine. It was a short kiss, a quick buss before he moved on, peppering my chin and cheeks with tiny, sweet kisses.

  And yet, I was moved by it, stunned by the simple, sweet action that denoted a hit of affection.

  A furry cheek brushed mine, the hum in his chest working its way up his throat, escaping those wide lips, tingling along with that ticklish fur.

  A small giggle left me, unbidden.

  Tokre’s cheek twitched and he paused, his eyes closing in bliss when he rubbed a little more, emitting the same response. I couldn’t help it, and before I knew it I was laughing out loud, wiggling my face this way and that to try and escape his teasing caresses while he purred so loud it was deafening.

  When trying to push him off proved ineffective, and kicking my legs just resulted in his brushing up and over mine to easily pin mine down, my hands slid up his chest, to his neck, then farther up.

  We couldn’t have appeared more intimate, our entwined pose, short of him rolling right on top of me, if we’d wanted to. Neither of us pulled back. My fingers, sifting through the fluff at the back of his head, tightened.

  Tokre’s breath left him, and even though he pulled back fractionally, as if to be sure, his eyes remained closed.

  Emboldened, my hands slid forward and I explored his face, a squared chin hidden beneath a furry beard. Sharp, angular cheek bones framed his giant beast head. A pronounced brow—my mind painted a picture of what he might look like as a man.

  His breath smelled sweet, tangy, almost like he’d used toothpaste.

  Did these beasts master toothpaste and other hygienic rituals, I wondered.

  My hands cupped his face, my fingers spreading wide, until my thumbs brushed his lips, my index fingers at his temples, my pinky fingers brushing his ears.

  His ears twitched before flattening against his skull. Wide lips, long nose, boxy jaw, thick neck, he was just big all over.

  Tokre swallowed and his eyes fluttered. Fearing I might find myself under the scrutiny of a pair of dark, resolute yet questioning, possessive eyes, I froze.

  As my hands stilled, my mate-husband paused.

  Hesitant, I bit the inside of my cheek, feeling stuck suddenly. Where did I go from here? Did I pull back? Proceed?

  What did I want to do? And what do I want to do next, should I wish to proceed?

  And the rollercoaster loop-de-looped yet again.

  My fingers jerked, as antsy as I felt. My shoulder blades began to twitch, itching at the base of my spine, the sensation slowly building. Gah. I felt so freaking torn.

  Tokre’s eyes squeezed shut tight as he nuzzled into the palm of my right hand and he began to chuff softly against my skin. Could he sense my unease? Feel just how damned topsy turvy I felt?

  Taking the decision from me, his purr amped up again, his body shifting until I felt that thrumming happiness from deep in his chest in my breast.

  “Okay. Okay!” I cried out on a laugh, chuckling when his eyebrows moved with his contented nuzzling, an unintentional waggle that made him look flirtatious and cheeky. My left hand resumed its exploration, brushing his lips, a thick, hairy upper lip, and farther up, along the line of a prominent nose.

  Would he look like one of those weird, Greek statues with a beak of a nose that looked disproportionate if his hair was to suddenly all fall off one day? Would it be like Chewbacca naked? Like the weird dog thing I’d always imagined Solo’s companion would be underneath that fur suit?

  I was drawn to his lips, the humming purr he made only for me, the way they quirked up at the simplest sign of affection from his mate. The way they felt against mine, firm but gentle yet insistent, searching… So strangely soft for someone so savage.

  Savagely beautiful, I thought.

  Sharp teeth, soft lips… and yet he hadn’t hacked my mouth to pieces with those monstrous chompers. He was surprising gentle in that aspect, on the whole.

  Except for trying to chomp my tit, I mentally corrected.

  My hands slid to the freshly healed gash on his shoulder again and I traced the length of it. It had bled so freely just the other day. Maybe it wasn’t as deep as I’d originally thought? No. Who was I kidding?! I’d seen more than I’d wished to peeking out from that ugly wound.

  The insides should not be peeking, my snarky inner self just had to point out.

  If I felt around I’d find at least a dozen more. He’d acquired those, every single one, to keep me.

  I had to second guess the void filler theory, as my mate happily nuzzled away affectionately. Maybe it started out that way, but could I really judge him for wishing companionship?

  Yes.

  No.

  Ye- Fuck all!

  The execution was crap, but the not wanting to be alone, wanting someone to understand you and call your own? Yeah, I could relate. Would I grow desperate enough to kidnap a fella? Yerp. Nope. Though the sentiment still stands.

  And now this monster, all six feet plus of his furred up ass, is all yours, Rosalinda.

  He’d die for me, I knew without question. This crazy assed beast man would lay down his life for me in a heartbeat. Fucked up…? Romantic…? Fucked up romantic, twisted, sure.

  As if we were on the same page, Tokre softly growled his version of my name. “Rrr-ssss-eee mnnn. Ttttt-kkkk-rrr-sss.”

  I was lifting up before I’d given the impulse a second thought, and he was leaning towards me.

  Close, so close.

  Sensations overwhelmed me, contradicting the strange fluttering in my stomach, the nervous trepidation causing my entire being to tremble.

&
nbsp; He could’ve died.

  He’d kidnapped me.

  He’d saved me from that bear.

  He’s a growling beast monster from some other plane, planet, dimension—who knew where that portal, transporting, traveling, pocket between worlds, had taken me.

  I’d joined with the lug. We’re married, mated, now. He fought for me, fought so hard. The idiot was injured defending me. He’d fight to the end for me.

  He took me from my home, Joanie, insanely hot neighbor who’d never actually date me, my crappy, uninteresting life.

  I had wished for something insane and otherworldly to happen to me, hadn’t I?

  There’s nothing left back home for me, fucking nothing anymore. I should hate him. I should slap him. He tried to break my damned lady shit with his giant dong and his klutzy attempts to mate me.

  And yet…

  His breath puffed across my face, a short, erratic pant, a wealth of excitement in that tiny little noise.

  No, I shouldn’t be thinking what I’m thinking. And who gave my body permission to tingle in all those pleasant places?! I sure as fuck didn’t sign off on it!

  And as if to contradict myself, I thought, I should fuck him within an inch of his damn life until he goes around walking funny! See if he’s ever dumb enough to challenge some asshole warrior like a crazy fool again! I should have slapped him around a bit after he’d passed out from that stupid tea! Teach him to try and leave me I’ll-

  Those last few thoughts took me by surprise, the vehemence of them sending my heart racing.

  Ah… shit.

  My lips pressed to Tokre’s, gentle at first. When he didn’t move, his breath leaving him in a soft whoosh, the tangy scent of whatever he’d eaten wafting across my face, I deepened our liplock, just enough.

  His breathing grew harsh, clashing with my own, which was bordering on a huffing pant.

  “Tokre,” I whispered, and dove back in.

  I couldn’t rightly say exactly what drove me, beyond my addled mind and a possible lack of mental stability. Oh, and the whole he could’ve died thing… but who’s counting?

  My tongue brushed over his lips and he groaned. I smiled against his mouth when his lips parted and he made a soft, sexy, growling noise. His tongue peeked out to taste his lips when I did it again, and I sucked that searching, pink appendage into my mouth.

  My mouth slanted over his gently, thinking of that mouthful of deadly weapons sheathed by nothing more than fur trimmed lips between us, so perilously close to my vulnerable flesh.

  Tokre’s heart was pounding so hard his purr sounded ridiculous, like a sputtering engine on the fritz.

  I sucked harder.

  His hands on either side of me, he gripped my shoulders as if to hold me in place but left it at that. His fingers flexed, his hold firm but still caring, striving to be gentler.

  He was giving me this, trying not to dominate, I could tell from the way he struggled not to tuck me under him, flip me over, and take over.

  My hands slipped from his face to his back, where my fingers sifted through the thick mat of fur. Muscles flexed beneath my fingertips, and a large bulge started to dig into my leg.

  Unwilling to take things further, that tiny bit of sanity still alive and well within me as far as sexing it up went, that prodding lump was my cue to lay off.

  Pulling back, I shook my head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you like that. I just- And then you- We- Uhm, I know you can’t understand me and I’m sorry, but I’m thinking we should stop. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I wasn’t thinking, that was it. Wasn’t thinking at all. His ridiculous dick was a nice little reminder of just how little I was using my noggin.

  I could add lack of impulse control to the list of shit I found myself struggling with lately.

  When I wriggled away a little, until I could get a hand between us, Tokre’s eyes popped open and he blinked, then stared. One look at my face and I thought he was going to whine, his face dropping drastically in disappointment, but he didn’t.

  “I, uh, I’m still sore,” I admitted, grimacing and glancing down between us in hopes he’d catch my drift.

  A flash of guilt streaked across his face but he hid it well, taking on his customary blank expression—the somber before the glower, I thought emphatically.

  The snarling grrrr face would come next, but I was ready for it. Nobody took rejection well. I expected nothing less of him.

  Though he fidgeted and jerked and growled low, he didn’t pounce, snarl, or shove off to stomp around.

  Instead, he bent low, leaning in, and pressed his lips to mine so gently I almost questioned whether it was happening. Then he rolled off of me and right off the bed.

  Tokre was all graceful and lithe, as if he wasn’t just recovering from a series of beast claw stabs comparable, in my opinion, to knife wounds.

  I didn’t simply sit there and watch him, I openly gaped, my jaw dropping, mouth wide open, lips flapping like a dying fish.

  Tokre took one look at my face and I’d swear he snorted, though there was an appreciative gleam in his eye and his lips twitched up at the corners.

  A beastly fisherman, amused by the sight of his fishy mouthed gaping wife. Sure, I could see that.

  It struck me, as I watched him rummaging around the hut, how little light there was in here.

  “What time is it?” I wondered, glancing around.

  The bucket Dorothy’d brought in to keep the stew on ice—or snow, as it were—had been emptied and turned over, and was now sitting by the hearth. The cook pot was once again, bubbling away with something, a fact I’d have noticed if I could completely breathe through my nose.

  The tiniest bit congested upon waking—a fact I could attribute to my chainsaw imitation, it was no hardship for me. I was beyond used to my sensitive sinuses, and if I was close enough to sniff at things I muddled along just fine—but otherwise it was hit or miss on catching scents wafting throughout a room. Sometimes the sniffer worked, sometimes it was a useless lump attached to my face. I’d long ago adjusted to that particular quirk of mine.

  Tokre made a funny noise, what I thought of as an ah-hah grunt, holding up a familiar container.

  And now his lack of disappointment was starting to make sense, but… Thinks he can’t put a little paste up in me and make a little love, does he? Well, there will be no getting down tonight or any other night, until I said so.

  “Wait!” I shouted, holding my hands up, palms out, gesturing for him to stop right there.

  Tokre made it all the way to the bed, his knee on the beastly version of a mattress before my hand signals registered.

  “No, not that one,” I implored desperately. My sex squelched, both in want and trepidation.

  Figures, I thought, he literally broke my lady parts—my junk was as jumbled up as me—he’d trained it to start creaking at his beck and call.

  Awkward, semi painful orgasms pierced on a super penis, coming right up.

  Lord, I didn’t know if my body could handle that. I didn’t know if I could.

  Flipping to my stomach, I reached under the folds of my pelt pillow, feeling around for that small, cool jar. Moving pelts this way and that as I wiggled, my fingers closed around it and I slid it free.

  There was a loud, beastly sound. Before I could shoot up a hand was pressing into my back, muffling my face into the folded fur. My ass shoved up into the air as I instinctively curled my legs, tucking my knees close to my chest, trying to pop up.

  Knowing exactly where this could easily end up—me getting fucked, literally—I flattened myself out and rolled. Tuck and roll, Rosie, tuck and fucking roll.

  “Wait!” My hand shot up, the other still wriggling to unearth itself from the pillow pelt without dropping Dorothy’s magical paste.

  Tokre grabbed my ankle and yanked, sending me flying forward. There was a clink and a clank, and I was pretty positive I’d be doing a hunt under the bed for that wayward jar later.

  “NO!”
I bellowed, causing my new temporary—possibly permanent—roommate to drop back. Popping up and sliding off the bed, I shook my head, waving my arms frantically. “No. No-no-no. Nuh-uh.”

  Tokre’s clawed fingers slid to the lid of his extra strength hoo-hah paste and he tapped his index finger along the top, his thumb running along the side.

  Recognizing his pattern, stall, lull into a false sense of security, and then conquer, I burst his meddling bubble.

  Gasping dramatically, I squeaked and pointed frantically over my shoulder, my mouth flapping, eyes widening to blink rapidly. I wouldn’t be winning any acting awards any time soon, but he bought it.

  Swooping in, I snatched his crazy paste and, clutching it to my chest, ran to the other side of the room.

  Tokre jerked and jumped up, silly noises garbling out of his throat as he gawped, shocked.

  My hand was on the door before I heard the bed creak and his heavy footfalls were stomping towards me. I flung the portal to the outer world open, rushing out barefoot.

  This was serious business, and we were not about to get all serious with each other, all up in my business, with my junk in the state it was currently in.

  Magical extra strength do me paste and a mate who was more than willing to oblige, no matter how guilty he looked afterward for causing me pain, was the last thing I needed to contend with.

  He’d break me! I’d never walk right again! Gah!

  Pulling my arm back, I sent that little pot flying. Up and over a hut it went, sailing through the air, and hopefully off into some snowdrift where it would freeze for all of eternity, never to be found or recreated again.

  “Unh.”

  A peek over my shoulder had me forcing a small smile. It was more of a grimace, really, as my mate’s face contorted comically. I should feel bad, probably, but the relief I felt… Yeah, I couldn’t muster a single, “Whoopsie!” It was his feelings or my pussy hole—my vagina trumped the scowl I’d surely be facing today.

  And now that I thought on it, if he didn’t look contrite himself, or horny—or, shockingly enough, lovey—he had that somber, maybe I’m a serial killer, maybe this is just how I always look kinda look plastered to his furry mug. Resting bitch face was not just for women. Resting bastard face? No! Resting beast face, I thought with a snort.