by Cat Marsters
Shifting his hips, he changed the angle of penetration so his cock dragged against her clit with every stroke. Sofie’s eyes rolled back in her head, and her fingers clutched his buttocks, shoving him hard into her.
Beyond words now, she cried and moaned as he thrust deliriously into her, and when she came, tightening almost to the point of pain around him, she yelped out his name as her whole body convulsed.
Finn watched her for a glorious moment then he came too, pulsing deep inside her until he thought he might die, and die happy at that.
Chapter Nine
“So, you’re a werewolf,” he said, and a small exhausted laugh escaped Sofie.
She lolled on the bed, watching him leap around lighting candles, marveling at his energy when she felt as if she’d never move again. What the hell had she been missing all these years?
Too busy. Too afraid.
“Yes,” she said decisively, admiring the glow of candles through her splayed fingers, “I’m a werewolf.”
“Yes.” Finn made a victorious fist.
“You knew before,” she said.
“We-ell,” Finn said expansively, “I had my suspicions.”
“Why were you suspecting anything?” Sofie asked in mild exasperation.
Finn grinned, joining her on the bed again. He was still splendidly naked, his skin hot and smooth where he gathered her close against his chest. The hair on his legs tickled her as she snuggled closer, adoring the contact. Magda’s family were always casually touching each other, hugging and cuddling together, and she envied the closeness of the contact. Wolves were pack animals, but Sofie had always been alone.
“Born, or bitten?” Finn asked.
“Born,” she said.
“Your mother?”
“Yes.” Sofie sighed. There was no way she could deny it all now. Years of practice fell away as Finn stroked her back in time with her breathing. “Her parents… it runs in the family.”
He didn’t say anything else, just waited for her to elaborate. But where the hell could she start? A lifetime of denial, a lot of it for reasons she’d never fully explained to herself.
She started with the biggest ones. “My grandparents were killed,” she said, “by werewolf hunters. There was a sort of vogue for it at one point. People who had read Dracula and Frankenstein and seen all those dreadful movies. They were hunted down and killed, just for being… what they were.”
His lips brushed her temple. “I’m sorry.”
“So was my mother.” Sofie squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pull up the increasingly shadowy memories of a woman she’d hardly been allowed to remember. “She was the only one left. Werewolves… we… have large families. She was visiting friends. Her brothers and sisters were all…”
“Oh, God.” His fingers squeezed her shoulder, sympathizing and soothing.
“She was adopted by those friends,” Sofie said.
“Magda’s family?”
“Yes. They grew up together. When Magda’s mother married an Englishman and moved to London, my mother went with her, and met a Czech diplomat.”
“Your father?”
“Yes.” Sofie paused. “He knew, I think, that she was a werewolf. He… never seemed angry about it. But she…”
Finn waited. Sofie collected together her memories of her mother, and went on.
“She was frail. It’s demanding, the diplomatic circuit. She was under constant pressure to present herself as the perfect, supportive wife. Three nights a month she had to make the choice to either beg ill health, or fight the change. I remember her… she looked so ill. It took so much out of her. If she hadn’t…”
If she hadn’t been a werewolf, Sofie wanted to say, she wouldn’t have died. But that wasn’t true. It was what she’d believed all her life, but it wasn’t true.
If her mother hadn’t fought what she was, she wouldn’t have become so ill in the first place.
“She never sought treatment. Can you imagine if a human doctor examined her?”
“There are werewolf doctors,” Finn said. “Magda’s pack has one. I’ve met her; nice lady.”
“My mother didn’t know a werewolf doctor. She was cut off from the… the pack. She wanted to be human, wanted to be the perfect wife. She was only a werewolf with me, and only in private. She used to tell me about her parents, tell me that if the humans ever found out about us, we’d be hunted and killed too.”
“Explains a few things,” Finn muttered.
“I was never afraid of being hunted,” Sofie said, frowning. It was true. “But I was afraid. Everything I knew about being a werewolf was bad. Death and illness and misery. If my mother had been stronger, she probably would have had more children. But there was only me, and she never fully recovered. If she’d been human, she would have been treated. But…”
“I didn’t know werewolves could get ill,” Finn said.
“Oh yes. We can get quite ill. We can die from illness,” Sofie said sadly, and Finn held her as hot tears stung her eyes.
“But you won’t,” he told her, rocking her gently. “You never will. Your werewolf doctors are one thing, but the touch of an Elf can cure cancer.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Says the orgasmic virgin,” Finn said, a touch smugly, and she had to laugh at that. “I promise you, I will never let illness take you,” he said, and she looked up because all trace of laughter had gone from his voice.
His eyes, those deep dark eyes, were utterly serious.
“Is it true you can’t lie?” she asked, still searching his eyes.
“No. Not true at all,” Finn said, and then he twinkled at her and she realized it was like one of those riddles, and laughed again. “That’s Faeries who can’t lie. They cheat like hell though, so never bargain with them if you can help it.”
“I’ll bear that in mind.”
He rolled to his back, taking her with him so she sprawled across him, reveling in the heat and strength of his body against hers. He didn’t look strong, didn’t look as if he could withstand the intensity she’d put him through, but, Sofie knew, appearances could be deceiving.
She, for instance, looked like a normal human being. But in a few hours, she’d be howling at the moon again
“What will you do now?” Finn asked, looking up at her, those dark eyes so deep, so wonderful.
“I was thinking I might kiss you,” she said, and he laughed, his body shaking beneath hers.
“I meant,” he paused to let her brush her lips across his, “what will you do now you’re no longer a cop?”
Sofie took in a deep breath, and let it all out. Somewhere between Finn roaring onto the runway and driving his cock inside her, she’d made up her mind that she wasn’t going to lie to herself any more. The truth, it seemed, really did set her free. She was Sofie Angeletti, werewolf, and while it might be possible for a werewolf to be a perfectly good officer of the law, it just wasn’t possible for Sofie. Not any more.
It probably never had been.
“I might call Magda,” she said, idly stroking his chest, “and see if she needs anyone to… er… what exactly does Sundown do?”
“Depends on what you need,” Finn said. He shifted beneath her, and she distinctly felt hard flesh brush against her thigh.
She smiled, and flexed her muscles. Amazingly, she wasn’t sore at all. That healing magic of Finn’s must be pretty strong stuff, she thought, because she was pretty sure she should be in some kind of pain from the pounding he’d given her.
But right now, all she wanted was to be pounded again.
“Well,” she said, nuzzling his neck, enjoying the roughness of his skin, the faint stubble, the smell of him, “I know what I need.”
His eyes twinkled at her.
“Do you think,” she gently nipped his chin, “you could give it to me?”
“I think I’ll give you whatever you want,” Finn said. She wriggled against him, and his eyes glazed a little. “Whenever you want,” he added,
a little breathless.
“Mmm.” She licked his skin. He tasted so good, better than she’d ever have expected. And the smell of him, oh God. Maybe this was the scent other women picked up without knowing it, maybe these were the pheromones that made them all go crazy.
Hell. The man was one giant pheromone.
“What’s it like,” she asked, kissing down his adorable chest, “having women pant after you like dogs after a butcher?”
He laughed at her phrase. “It can be wonderful,” he said, and she tried not to scowl. After all, what kind of claim did she have on him?
She paused in her kisses. That train of thought was never going to make her happy.
“But it can also just… well, suck, really,” Finn said. “I’m a university lecturer -- it’s really not the done thing to have young women stripping off in class.”
“I’d have thought you’d enjoy it.”
“Well,” he said, and seemed to be considering this. Considering it well: his cock grew a little more. “I, er. Well, it can be, er, nice. But you know, sometimes I don’t want to have sex.”
She looked up at him, eyebrows raised.
“I do have other hobbies,” he protested.
“Sure. Such as?”
“Well, translating proto-Elvish, for one,” he reminded her, and she conceded the point. “But sex is still the best hobby.” He waggled his eyebrows, and she smiled. “And you know, if I get enough of it, then women stop coming onto me.”
“Sure,” she said again.
“No, it’s true! All I need is one woman to have very hot sex with on a regular basis, and the rest don’t bother me.”
The thought of having very hot sex on a regular basis with Finn flashed through Sofie’s mind, and she quickly banished it. Right now she had no idea where her life was headed. There was no sense in fantasizing.
She ran her tongue around his belly button and was rewarded by his quick intake of breath.
“Speaking of very hot sex,” he gulped.
“Yes,” she agreed, “speaking of.” She moved back a few inches, and regarded his cock which was standing proud, flushed dark with blood, far thicker than anything she’d ever imagined could feel good inside her.
Remembering how impossibly good it had felt however, she moved a little closer. Twice today Finn had licked at her most sensitive flesh, caressed her with his lips and tongue and made her scream with pleasure so acute it almost hurt.
It would be nice, she thought, to return the favor.
Although she’d never been intimate with a man before Finn, that didn’t mean Sofie hadn’t thought about it. Hadn’t wanted it. Hadn’t longed for it. But she’d long ago resigned herself to the certainty that intimacy with someone else was an impossibility. She’d spent her life ignoring her animal instincts. If she couldn’t be honest with herself, how could she ever get close to anyone else?
Besides, she was terrified she might accidentally kill them while in the throes of passion.
But with Finn she wasn’t afraid, and a lifetime of stopped-up passions came flooding out. She bent her head to his cock, smelled the brand new scent of their lovemaking, her scent on him, and licked her lips.
“I warn you, I’ve never done this before,” she said, and nuzzled his cock. “I might not be very good at it.”
She tentatively licked his cock, and Finn said in a high voice, “No, I think you’ll be fine.”
It felt strange on her tongue, this delicate, soft skin over something so hard. Silk over steel, she thought, and licked some more. Finn’s hips shifted restlessly, and she figured she was doing okay.
She stroked him gently, feathering her fingers up and down his long, thick shaft, and felt his breath hitch. He tasted like nothing she’d ever imagined, salty and sweet at the same time. Giddily she wondered how much of that was her own taste.
It was amazing, the power she felt as she licked up and down his length. With just her hands and her mouth, she was totally in control. Finn’s head was thrown back, his hands loosely grasping fistfuls of her hair. His hips thrust gently toward her lips, and she wondered what it would be like to feel him inside her mouth.
Well, there was one way to find out.
Finn groaned as she took the rounded head of his cock into her mouth. Sucking him in as far as she could, Sofie was amazed to see how much was left. Was her mouth really that small? Or was his cock really that big?
She didn’t get to work that out however, because Finn was pulling her head away, and his penis slipped out of her mouth with a pop. Mortified, she looked up at him.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t know -- what did I do, did I…” Did I hurt you, she wanted to ask, but she couldn’t. Her face burned.
Finn stared for a second, his eyes huge. “Are you kidding?” he said. “That was incredible.”
She looked up.
“So incredible,” he said, running his hands over her, “that I wanted you to stop before I came all over your face.”
Her lips parted. Breathless, she crawled over him and rubbed her body against his. His cock, still wet with her saliva, rubbed against the swollen, slippery folds between her legs.
“Really?” she said. “It was good?”
“It was amazing,” he assured her, and a grin split Sofie’s face. She shifted her hips, felt him against her entrance, and reached back to guide him in.
Kneeling over him, she took him inside her. Felt him fill her up, stretching out muscles that just hadn’t been used before. She was so turned on he slid in easily, and this time there was no pain at all. Just pleasure, glorious and deep.
Smiling, feeling as if she was just coming alive, Sofie ran her hands up her own body, stroked her stomach, cupped her breasts, raked her hands though her hair and arched her back. Beneath her, Finn flexed, and she felt the movement inside her.
“This is amazing,” she whispered.
“You’re telling me,” he said, and she looked down and smiled.
She moved on him, cataloguing every thrust, every twist of his narrow hips, every gasp and sigh, blown away by the intensity of it. He held her hips but let her control the movement, the depth of his penetration, and Sofie’s head swam as she moved faster, up and down, feeling him plunge deeper and deeper into her. Pleasure built inside her, a spiral of heat that grew and grew until she could barely breathe.
His hand stole around to caress her clit and she grabbed his wrist to hold him there. She felt so good, every atom of her absolutely buzzing with ecstasy, looking down at the sharp angles of Finn’s face, those deep brown eyes, his hand between her legs. The pressure inside her built and built until she thought she might explode, and nearly backed away from it.
But Finn was there, smiling at her, stroking her, thrusting deep until the dam inside her burst and she threw back her head and howled out her orgasm.
Chapter Ten
Finn woke with every cell of his body humming, and rolled over to find a wolf standing over him.
“Whoa!”
The wolf looked down at him with bright, intelligent blue eyes. Its fur was a pale honey color, thick and soft.
It licked his face.
“Sofie?” Finn said, and the wolf gave a yip, before nudging a piece of paper on the pillow beside Finn, and leaping off the bed.
“Wait, where are you --” he began, but the wolf had already bounded away, into the darkness.
“Right,” he said, to the empty theatre, and sat up in bed. It was a little eerie, being naked on stage, even when he knew the place was empty. The stage was glowing in soft candlelight, but everywhere else was in darkness.
Sofie had gone. He felt her absence more clearly than he’d ever have expected to.
Picking up the note beside him, he read. “Dear Finn. It’s getting dark and the moon will soon be up. Tonight of all nights I can’t resist its pull, so forgive me for changing. I’m sure you’re tired and need some sleep, so I won’t disturb you if I can help it. I’ll be back in the morning -- make yourself at home. S
ofie.”
That was it. Not exactly the greatest love letter ever written, but at least she’d dropped him a line before racing off to howl at the moon.
He got out of bed and looked around. There ought to be a kitchen around here somewhere -- surely she couldn’t exist entirely on takeout. Not with that body.
But then, she was a cop.
“Where do you keep your coffee and doughnuts?” he wondered out loud as he stepped down into the stalls. On a table near one of the sofas, several books lay open, ancient books, and he wandered over to take a look.
Faerie Tayles. Myth & Legende. Weerwolf Chronicels. Vampyre Storeys.
What the hell?
Where had all this come from? There was a cardboard box on the floor, labeled in black marker Mother -- books, and Finn stared for a moment.
These books were old. Older than the printing press. Older than paper, some of them. These were books Finn would have killed to get his hands on. And Sofie had been storing them all this time? Just what kind of lineage did she have?
He grabbed the box and searched through it, looking for a family bible or something else that might tell him about Sofie’s background. Nothing. What about Weerwolf Chronicels?
He picked the book up, gingerly. It appeared to comprise several volumes bound together, with others attached by means of glue, string, and elastic bands. Turning to the middle, Finn ran his eye down pages written on vellum. The ink was dark brown, and he tried not to dwell on its substance.
“…an beholden to thee wolfen pache foure familese of mann, gettinge theyn chattel an moche poltreyne…”
Right. Unless there were ancient grudges about cattle owing, this wasn’t likely to be relevant.
At the end were neatly written pages in a modern script. “…Elisabeth, born of Lady Inge Gudjonssen (d) and Alexandru Viteazul (d), joined in marriage to Mátyás Angeletti (human). Born, one daughter, Sofia Alexandra Inge Angeletti.”
Sofie’s parents. Her grandmother was a lady? He flicked back a few pages. Yes indeed, there was nobility in Sofie’s family tree, and until Elisabeth’s marriage to a human, it had been pure pedigree.
