by Evie Ryan
“Or the fact that apparently werewolves and vampires just aren’t meant to be together, so if anyone found out they’d forbid this to continue. Is that why you didn’t want me to let anyone know? So that you could continue to seduce me and have your way?”
“Whoa, I didn’t know any of that, really,” he stammered, trying to regain his balance while wrapping his head around her points. “Who told you that?”
“Christoph,” she stated.
“Poisonous? Are you alright?” He asked, deeply concerned.
“I am now,” she said.
Without thinking twice, Brandon wrapped his arms around her and drew her close, but when her arms failed to embrace him, he became filled with worry. He let go of her then searched her eyes for any hint they still might have something. “Then what’s wrong?” He asked finally after the silence had thrown a wall up between them.
“I miss my family. I miss my life in Seattle,” she admitted. “I feel like I shouldn’t be here.”
Brandon’s heart sank at that, but he tried to push the feeling aside, reminding himself that longing for the old life was natural for anyone who’d just turned. Then it occurred to him that her sudden revelation might have more to do with Christoph’s influence than her own anxieties. “What did Christoph say to that?”
“What makes you think I said any of this to him?”
“Didn’t you?”
“Please don’t make this about your jealousy of Christoph.”
“I’m not jealous.”
“Of course you are. If you weren’t you wouldn’t have made me promise not to feed off him,” she countered.
“I trust you, really. I’m not jealous. I just figured you’d ask him for advice,” he said, hoping his soft tone would help lower her guard. The tension between them was killing him.
“Brandon, there’s a whole search party looking for me. It has put everything into perspective. I had a life. Yes, I was dying, but I still had a life. And I need to figure out how to get back to it. I’m in agony thinking about how panicked my family must be.”
“I get it,” he started. “Everything you’re going through is perfectly normal-”
“But it’s not because the other students aren’t dealing with the added complication of falling in love with someone who’s entirely wrong for them, who’s the wrong species for God’s sake.”
“You’re falling in love with me?” He asked, as his lip curled into a crooked smile.
Gwen hadn’t realized the confession had flown from her mouth until she saw the mischievous grin spreading across his face. She blushed, but refused to let out the smirk that was bubbling just below the surface. She sobered, reestablishing the seriousness that was true to her heart, and asked, “What happened with the search party? What did the pack end up doing?”
Brandon seemed to clam up and fall silent. His steel blue eyes went dark, as though the memories of the night’s events were too upsetting to put into words.
“You drove them away, didn’t you?” She demanded.
“Not yet,” he said. “Not successfully.”
“They just want to find me.”
“I know,” he said suddenly somber. “You might get your wish, and sooner than you think...” he trailed off, slipping down the corridors of his worst fears, before his eyes shifted, locking with hers as if to make a plea, “I want things to be good between us.”
“Things are too up in the air. I feel like I’m coming apart at the seams, Brandon.”
A male voice stole their attention when he shouted across the field, “Hey Brandon, beers at Riley’s!”
“It’s the middle of the afternoon!” Brandon called out, before turning to Gwen to add, “That’s Mark, another scout.”
“Admin is in a long meeting and called off our routes until they figure some crap out about that search party! Truck’s leaving! You both should come!”
Gwen felt Brandon’s eyes on her and knew he was wishing they could simply climb in that back of Mark’s pickup truck and drive off as though there wasn’t a rift between them. And truth be told, Gwen wanted that as well, but she knew it wouldn’t make her feel any less pulled in multiple directions.
“You go on,” she suggested to Brandon. “Have fun.”
He shook his head. “I’d rather be with you.”
The truck beeped long and hard with Mark behind the wheel, but Brandon waved him off. It wasn’t until the pickup’s roaring idle bucked and the truck made its way across the field and out of sight that Gwen motioned towards the entrance of Little Bear.
“I saw your parents,” she heard him say, which propelled her back around, wide eyed.
“Were they upset?” She asked, feeling the tears well up in her eyes.
“Yeah,” he said regretfully.
“I have to see them. You have to help me. I can’t wait like this,” she pleaded.
“Ok,” he said finally.
Gwen’s eyes lit up and she grabbed his arms then pulled him into her. “When?” She whispered, holding him closer than ever.
“Tonight, after dark,” he said as he drank in the feel of her, savoring her slender frame and promising himself he’d never again let her slip that far away. If she needed to go back, he’d find a way to bridge the vast divide between her old life and the one he intended to have with her.
Her lips met his and she kissed him, conveying a world of gratitude, then told him to come inside.
As Brandon followed her in, the grave image of Gwen’s mother flashed through his mind: brittle bones cracking, as she spilled down the steep terrain, having been startled by the sudden presence of a black wolf in her midst; a black wolf with a white stripe down its chest.
Chapter Six
As the sun fell below the mountain line to the west, its orange light bled seamlessly into a violent red accentuating the jagged horizon, then healed into a purple hue, then one of blue-dusk and darker still, until all of the Cascades were hidden in darkness. Gwen and Brandon had been watching the light as it shifted over the landscape from within Little Bear. They had been waiting for their moment and filling the time by plotting their route and punctuating each other’s suggestions with quick kisses.
Gwen drew back her leg that had been draped over Brandon’s hips and propped herself up onto her elbow to better eye the nightscape beyond the window. There was no moon out. The constellation of stars that peppered the sky illuminated nothing below, which could work in their favor. It could also work against them. Soon Gwen became distracted by her reflection in the windowpane. Her eyes looked black, like two voids saved only by a glint of silver in each pupil. Her fangs protruded between her lips hinting at her rising blood thirst. Nightfall had caused them to elongate and their presence reminded her that once she and Brandon fled, feeding would be challenging and dangerous.
Brandon took her chin in his hands, guiding her to meet his gaze. He caressed her cheek by tracing the curvature of her cheekbone, her jaw line, then circling up to brush his fingertip across her bottom lip, he investigated the sharpness of each fang, all while looking up at her from where he lay on the bed. His tendency to look at her with curious fascination both warmed her and made her wonder about his long history. Brandon was upwards of two hundred years old, but acted as though he’d never been in love. The word unconditional came to mind. That’s how first love was, wasn’t it? If you fell fast and hard, logic couldn’t touch you. And that’s what this was, she thought. His commitment to give her whatever she wanted, defied all reason.
They studied each other for a moment and Gwen sensed tension rising between them, a wall of silence barring them from discussing what might come next. Neither of them had thought past the immediate goal of reuniting Gwen with her parents, but going against the Administration as they were about to, implied a world of change. Brandon might never be accepted back. Had he thought this through? Gwen knew that was why neither of them had found the courage to address the issue. Neither wanted to indicate they were having second thoughts.
Neither wanted to admit that leaving together might not be in either of their best interest.
Gwen glanced down the length of him, as she ran her hand over his bare chest then further down his hard abdomen where dark hair formed a thin trail south. He was remarkably smooth for a werewolf. There was almost nothing beast-like in his human form except for the pronounced shape of his incisors and the glint of darkness behind his steel blue eyes.
“Tell me about life beyond the Cascades,” she asked, treading carefully towards the topic and keeping her gaze fixed on his navel so that he wouldn’t be able to read the apprehension in her eyes.
Brandon drew in a deep breath as he swept her bangs off of her forehead, and exhaled. “It has been done,” he said to reassure her, but his voice arched up implying it wouldn’t be easy. “What was your like life before?” He asked, his tone dropping down with the comfort that came from placing the conversation back on her.
Affection flared behind her eyes, as the memories took hold. “I live in a one-bedroom condo in a residential tower on the north side of Seattle. I can see the Space Needle from my living room window and at night it’s all lit up along with the buildings below it and its beautiful. My apartment is modern, yet homey. I still use all the comforters and pillows I grew up with, nothing childlike, but not quite adult. My building has a swimming pool, tennis and basketball courts, and a gym, and across the street is my favorite coffee shop.” Gwen paused, considering the vast divide between her home and office lives. “Actually I live at the office. I work in marketing and during the week I’m usually there until nine or ten. I have a tight knit group of friends I work with so we don’t necessarily get out to socialize, but find time to catch up during lunch or over Chinese if we’re trying to eat while burning the midnight oil. And my parents are my life. I talk to my mom at least once a day. She likes to make sure I’m not killing myself at work. And my dad will mumble at her in the background, giving me advice that doesn’t apply or telling me it’s going to rain as if I don’t know how to turn on the TV and check for myself. I see them every Sunday since they live on the west side of the city. I’m urban at heart,” she concluded then realized being so made her Brandon’s polar opposite.
“That sounds nice,” he said softly.
“So what are we going to do once we’re back?” She asked then pressed, “What are you going to do?”
“I wasn’t always in the Cascades,” he began then his voice fell away briefly. “When I saw you in Evergrove wrestling with that tent you reminded me of myself. It was so long ago...” he trailed off ruminating. “There was no such thing as urban when I was growing up. Not like what it means now.”
“What year was that?”
“I was born in 1817,” he said. “Outside of Chicago, which was industrial, but nothing like the city today. “I left home when I was sixteen, not wanting to work for the newspaper with my father. I headed west not quite knowing what I wanted, but sensing I’d know it when I saw it. It was the era of the Gold Rush and in the back of my mind I saw myself getting rich mining for gold, the first American dream. I got as far as Colorado and couldn’t get any further, but there were mining opportunities around Pike’s Peak so I figured it was as good a place as any. But I was out of my element, just like you were at the campsite and just like you, nothing could deter me. I was determined. I was going to make myself fit no matter what. My first day, I fell down a mineshaft, landed awkwardly on my neck, but kept working. That night when I was walking home, I collapsed. When I looked up from where I was lying on the ground, I realized I was suddenly surrounded by wolves and I knew I was going to die. It was the most terrifying moment of my life.”
“Those were the wolves that turned you?”
“Yes,” he confirmed. “Elektra, Ismay and their pack. My neck had been fractured in the fall. I was lucky I didn’t break it, but still they knew I'd die from it eventually. They turned me. My body healed. And having that second chance gave me so much guilt. Guilt I’d left my family. Guilt for being alive, when I wasn’t sure I deserved to be.”
“Did you try to go back and see your parents?” She asked, drawing the obvious parallels between their similar stories.
“No,” he said before meeting her gaze. “I couldn’t let them see my darkness.”
The weight of Brandon’s long ago choice hung between them like advice Gwen didn’t want to take.
Brandon lifted the burden by continuing. “I wrote letters so they’d know I was alive and well. I stayed with Elektra and the pack for nearly a century in Pike’s Peak where they ran a wildlife preserve, but with industrial developing our land got bought out from under us by the city planning commission so that they could build residential and commercial structures. So we migrated further west arriving here in the Cascades.”
“What happened to your parents?” Gwen asked.
“Human life is short and fragile, Gwen,” he said. “They passed away before the turn of the century. When they died they believed I was doing quite well for myself and I was. I was happy. And I tell myself that they were happy with me too.”
“If my parents knew I was alive and well and happy...” she trailed off to contemplate the possibility.
“I get your reasoning,” he said, relieving her of the burden to explain. “You don’t have to convince me.”
“But I have to convince myself,” she confessed. “I keep forgetting I’m not human.”
Brandon rolled onto his side taking Gwen with him so that she was resting on her back, head cradled by his arm. He looked down at her, running his warm hand along the side of her bare breast then cupped its shape, as his knee drew up so that his thigh could press into the fine hair between her legs.
The pressure of his leg against her loins caused heat to stir within, calming her. He squeezed her breast firmly then began massaging. She murmured a soft moan in response then felt him grow hard, thickening and lengthening against her hip. She reached down and took his erection in her hands, stroking the silken shaft with one hand and grazing her fingertips lightly over its wide head.
“We might not be human,” he whispered on a heavy breath. “But we’re alive and there’s a place for us in this world.”
She knew he was right, but the sentiment called into question where that place might be.
Brandon eased up, hooking his forearms under her shoulders and working her legs apart until his pelvis landed flush against hers.
“What if our different kinds really can’t be together?” She asked, though risking he might retreat.
He didn’t, but remained pressing into her so that his hard erection was sandwiched firmly between their stomachs, it’s base aligned perfectly with her soft flesh, helping her grow wet.
“I’ve waited so long for you,” he whispered. “No one can tell me this isn’t meant to be.”
His hips arched back, freeing his member from between them so that he could angle himself against her slippery slit. As he pressed in, the merger was electric. Gwen’s legs spread even wider to receive him, drawing in his incredible girth. The sheath of her stretched with a sweet, burning ache, as she strained to accommodate his manly size until he filled her, perfectly and completely.
She sipped in quick breaths easing into the sensual mix of pain and pleasure. Heat waves flared across her skin. And deep within she began to throb, expanding and clenching, as he held himself firmly and allowed his presence there to undo her.
A delicious tingle began radiating through her when Brandon started grinding with her, pelvis to pubic bone, heightening her arousal. His movements, steady and deep and wildly erotic, inspired her to explore. Drawing her legs up, her thighs squeezed along his hips then her knees met his sides, continuing upwards, as she relished how the changing angle stimulated new and deeper and more sensitive areas within. Brandon grinned down at her, his sexy crooked smile turning her on more and more. He clearly liked where she was going with this idea. Soon her ankles were resting on his shoulders, giving him the freedom to hover abo
ve, fists braced to the mattress beside her ears, and began to pound into her.
He thrust in and out with increasing strength. The friction, hot, slippery, and wet was incredible. Each time he thrust deeply the solid pound caused her body to bounce, titillating her further until her loins were coiled with tension, so elating that she could explode any moment.
Brandon had her so wound up in pleasure that she couldn’t hold her legs up any longer. They fell along his arms, but he caught each in the crux of his elbows, radically changing his angle within her to her surprise. She moaned out his name, as he delivered tight, sharp thrusts, exploring Gwen’s gorgeous responses.
Then he gently lowered her feet to the mattress and scooped his muscular arm under her bottom to better control the depth of each thrust that he was now matching to the rhythm of her quick breaths. With his free hand, Brandon found her most sensitive spot where her pelvis met his and pressing his thumb there, he began to massage in slow, deliberate circles, stimulating her further as she engorged with heightened arousal.
The deeply sensual combination of internal heat and friction, and the external massage, had Gwen building towards an absolute peak of pleasure. No one else had ever given it to her like this, never made her feel this turned on, while seeming to delight in observing the incredible effect he was having on her, like Brandon was.
His head was cocked to the side, eyes wide with infatuation, lips curled in a hungry, sexy grin, as he drank in the sight of his hard erection sliding in and out of her tight, pink slit. The expression on his face was so sexy Gwen wasn’t sure if she could hang on much longer.
Brandon retracted the arm that had held her bottom up, as Gwen instinctively planted her feet against the mattress, to hold herself up and keep the angle, when to her delight she felt his fingers begin to tease around her anus, playing in the wetness that had dripped down there, while softly circling her tight rim.
“You bad boy,” seeped from her lips, as her eyes fluttered shut. She was being carried away into an intense state of euphoria and she didn’t want it to end, ever.
