Wolves of Black Pine (The Wolfkin Saga Book 1)

by SJ Himes

  Roman licked his lips, and Simon shuddered at the dark eyes glowing above him that shifted from human to animal. Roman’s hand was working him faster, claws out, and Simon looked down when he felt cool air on his groin. Roman had sliced through his pants and underwear, exposing his groin. A big hand capped with claws stripped his cock, fast and hard, the pain and pleasure indistinguishable. His balls drew up close to his body, and he jerked as his orgasm was dragged from him, white ropes of hot liquid coating Roman’s hand and spilling over their thighs.

  Roman’s hand abruptly left him, claws flashing again as his belt was slashed and his pants dropped to the floor. Fear crawled out of his stomach, and he scratched at the werewolf’s arms. “No! Dammit, let me go!”

  Roman snarled, fangs fully dropped, eyes wild. “I’ve got nothing from our arrangement but scorn and near misses. I was promised power, but you’ve given me nothing but hollow, useless words. I’ll take what I want now, and you can let me, or I’ll reduce you to ribbons as I fuck you into submission.”

  “I don’t want it,” Simon said, half lying, not giving permission but not denying Roman’s claim to his body. He saw an image of Roman bending him over, rabid with frenzied need, and his hole clenched in aching need and fear. He didn’t want this animal, he couldn’t. He refused, but his body had other ideas. There was no way his cock was thickening again, responding to the thought of being mounted by this monster, but it was, and Roman knew it. Roman chuckled, a deep evil sound that made liquid heat pool in Simon’s gut. “I hate you.”

  “The feeling is mutual,” Roman growled past his fangs, and claws flashed in the lights, tugging and ripping off his clothing. His boots were reduced to rubber bits and his socks weren’t spared either, the small pile of cloth scraps and tactical gear pooling at his feet. He was naked in seconds, Roman plastered to his body, marking him with his scent and nudging at his stomach with his huge cock. Simon was by no means a small man, but this creature outweighed him and outclassed him in power, and was manhandling him like a ragdoll.

  He found himself thrown over a hard shoulder, upside down, Roman’s arm around his knees and the other on his ass. Clawed fingers dipped into his crease as Roman carried him from the room, and Simon tried to evade the invading digits. A thick finger speared his hole, and the dry burn made him cry out and buck his hips. The finger wiggled deeper, and hit his prostate. Simon cried out, the pain and pleasure surreal. He was afraid to move, afraid the clawed finger in his ass would lacerate and tear his vulnerable flesh. He’d never touched himself there, never thought to do it. He wasn’t gay, he only ever slept with women, but this brutal creature was working his body with practiced ease and making him respond.

  He saw the walls in quick glimpses, Roman’s finger thrusting in his sore hole distracting him. He was suddenly dumped on a bed, and Roman was on top of him, ruthlessly spreading his legs and lifting them over his shoulders. His ass was exposed, and he tried to slip his legs off the werewolf’s shoulders, but the thick cock nudging at his tight hole made him freeze. Roman grinned, a feral light in his eyes, and he thrust once, just enough to bounce the hard, broad head of his cock off the virgin entrance to Simon’s body. Simon winced, and his hands gripped the blankets under him. Stopping Roman was out of the question now, and he knew it, but he couldn’t relax or stop the fear coursing through him.

  Roman breathed in deep, as if scenting his fear and liking the taste of it on his tongue. Hands ran down his sides to his hips, pushing Simon’s ass harder against the thick shaft throbbing at his hole. Simon tried to buck him off, but all he did was push the cock head harder against his virgin hole, and he backed off, going limp. Roman chuckled, and Simon hated him fiercely in that minute, even as his own cock pulsed with renewed vigor. His body wanted this, and badly, and Simon felt his fear begin to sour with anger. His body was betraying him, and he had no control.

  Roman leaned down, tongue longer than it should be, and the werewolf licked up a thin trail of blood from Simon’s chest, lapping at his nipple. Simon jerked again, and his cock dripped with early ejaculate, the clear liquid pooling on his abs. Roman nipped, tasting his flesh, occasionally pressing his cock to Simon’s hole, making him wince and his hips buck in response.

  Roman reached out a hand, claws sharp and dangerous, and scored at the dresser next to the bed, claws latching onto the drawer and pulling it open. The drawer landed with a thud on the bed, smacking Simon on the shoulder, and Roman rifled through the contents. He came up with a tube of lube, and Simon’s tight hole clenched as reality set in. Roman was going to fuck him. The werewolf threw the drawer off the bed and the wood cracked when it hit the floor, everything spilling.

  The werewolf ignored Simon’s nerves, and Simon watched, eyes wide, as he dribbled lube on his thick cock, before squeezing a generous glob over Simon’s untried hole. A heavy claw pressed to his entrance, and Simon winced, afraid the werewolf would slice him open before he even fucked him. Roman used more care than he was expecting, expertly sliding his clawed finger into his ass, spreading the thick lube inside his tight channel. In and out, Roman prepped him, somehow not cutting him, thick digit sliding with ease in his virgin ass.

  “Tight, and hot,” Roman growled, panting through his teeth. “Going to own your ass. Make you my beta bitch.”

  “I’ll get you back for this,” Simon gritted when another finger filled his hole, two digits spreading him. It hurt, and yet it pulled pleasure from him, liquid heat seeping through his muscles. The wolf made certain to tag his prostate, seeming to enjoy the way he gasped each time. “Our arrangement is over.”

  “No,” Roman snarled, pulling his fingers away and lining up his cock. “I own you now. We’re doing this my way from now on.”

  Simon screamed as Roman thrust in all the way to the hilt. Roman withdrew, and thrust back in, rutting hard from the start. Simon cried, gasping at the ruthless pace, the pain at the invasion strong. He clawed at the bedding and tried to kick, but strong arms held him down. He couldn’t control his sobs, Roman riding him deep and fast. Tears ran down his cheeks, and his whole lower body tensed with the wrenching pain, the thick cock owning his ass with dominating ease, the lube letting Roman take him without resistance.

  Roman’s pace was demanding, and Simon gave up, his body going limp under the powerful thrusts. The werewolf’s hands gripped his thighs, fucking into him, stretching his hole wide, the broad head opening his channel more with each and every thrust in and out. Roman grunted as he rutted, bottoming out each time, somehow finding his way deeper into Simon’s body. Simon’s ass relaxed around the invading shaft, and he sobbed at a startling pleasure when the thick flesh spearing him rubbed over that small gland. His own dick, which went soft when the pain started, was regaining some interest in the proceedings, and Simon watched in horror and denial as he grew hard. Roman growled, and a clawed hand fell to his cock, stroking him in time to the beast’s hips.

  The pain was still present, but not as intense. Roman rode him hard, the noises coming from his fanged mouth animalistic and raw, and Simon couldn’t hold back his gasping cries. Pleasure was rising in his gut, and Simon gave up fighting his arousal. Roman must have felt his capitulation, as his hips sped up, spearing him faster, his ass taking everything Roman gave him, sucking his huge cock deeper inside. Simon’s head lolled on the bed, eyes rolling back in his head when each thrust in rubbed over his prostate, his cock dripping and leaking, and Roman’s hand stripping him with a painful grip of which he couldn’t get enough.

  Finally Roman’s hand fell away, and the pace of his hips lost that even rhythm. Simon moaned as the cock in his ass swelled, growing impossibly harder, Roman fucking into him like he was trying to crawl inside his body. Simon opened his mouth to demand the werewolf withdraw before he came, but all that escaped was needy cries. The cock owning his ass was constantly applying pressure to his prostate, and he couldn’t summon the control to speak. He lay pliant to the beast dominati
ng him, and he knew Roman was very close when his eyes flashed with feral satisfaction and his breathing hitched.

  The explosion of cum in his ass filled him up deep, Roman buried to the hilt. Jet after jet of hot semen bathed his sore flesh, and Simon came as well, his thin cry bouncing off the walls with Roman’s roar. Simon’s ass clamped down on Roman’s thick cock, and the werewolf fucked him through it with short and rough thrusts before stilling with a moan. Simon’s whole body seized up as his orgasm hit him with the force of a freight train. His seed splashed over his abdomen, and Roman jerked above him, still experiencing his own powerful climax. Simon lost himself to his own orgasm, cock spurting still, Roman filling him with an impossible amount of hot semen, which was dripping from his sore ass and down his crack.

  Roman collapsed on him, his weight pressing him down into the mattress. Simon sobbed, still feeling his own climax, stricken by the strength of his response to the beast who was still shooting random jets of cum into him. His ass hurt, from hole to the deep place inside where Roman was still coming in him. The pleasure no longer masked the effects of the rough mating, though the wet heat of all that cum soothed as it spread through his abused ass.

  Simon gasped as Roman withdrew, rolling to his back, hands falling to his sweat-dampened abdomen, cock still hard and glistening with seed and lube. A warm rush of seed slipped from Simon’s ass, and he squirmed at the discomfort. His ass flinched at the movement, and he stilled, trying not to aggravate his well-fucked hole.

  The beast beside him chuckled, and reached for him again.

  ROMAN yawned in satisfaction. Simon was lying beside him, obviously in some discomfort and reeking of Roman’s seed. He should have done this years ago. The brash and confident human was nothing now but a twitchy little bitch, with tear stains on his cheeks and a deliciously tight hole built for fucking. Roman’s cock, still hard, throbbed as he remembered how spectacular Simon’s virgin ass felt clamped around him, and he reached for the human. Simon flinched, but Roman ignored his reaction. Simon was his now, marked and mated, and he was not letting Simon ruin his plans. Simon was as useless as his late brother. Fucking him into submission was the perfect answer.

  He grabbed Simon’s hips and lifted the feebly struggling human over his cock, which was hungrily pointing straight up. Seed dripped from Simon’s hole, still wet with lube and red from his recent fucking. Simon cried out, hands trying to free his hips from Roman’s grip, but he was weak compared to wolfkin strength. Roman grunted as he lowered the human, his cock slipping back into that hot channel with remarkable ease. He was slick with lube and cum, and still very tight, despite Roman not sparing him just minutes earlier.

  He sat Simon on his cock, firmly planted balls deep and pulled his hands away. Simon made to scramble off him, but Roman pushed his hips up, making the human wince and still. He was remarkably easy to train, his stubbornness defeated by the cock buried in his hot little hole. Roman felt satisfaction grip him when he glimpsed the bite mark on Simon’s shoulder, still bleeding. It was going to leave a nasty scar for certain. Wolfkin bit during sex, but they never marked their mates like werewolves did in human stories. The bites always healed, and the mating bond was easy to sense on a spiritual and mental level when encountering a mated wolfkin if one knew where to look. Wolfkin took human lovers in secret, the relationships never officially condoned, but it happened often enough that it wasn’t uncommon. The bite mark was a clear indication to another wolfkin that the human in question was claimed and off limits. Breeding was impossible, but the sex was fantastic, the humans responding on a primal level to the animal spirit in the wolfkin. The wolfkin got off on dominating the weaker humans, who were naturally submissive and brought out the wolfkin’s urges to claim and fuck. Humans turned into little sluts for their wolfkin masters, even if they hated the wolfkin in question. Simon was a perfect example of the influence wolfkin could hold in sway over a human lover.

  “Fuck yourself on me,” Roman ordered. Simon stared at him, panting. “Do it, or I take you outside in the snow and mount you in front of the other fangless worms.”

  “You wouldn’t,” Simon moaned. He moved anyway, lifting himself up a scant inch and then flinching as he dropped himself down. Roman moaned, drinking in the conflicted expressions on Simon’s face and the sensation of his cock sliding in the hottest ass he’d ever fucked. “I hate you so much.”

  “Good. Now fuck yourself harder, bitch. Make it hurt. I want you feeling my cock for days.” Roman loved the way Simon glared at him, but he obeyed, riding Roman’s cock, taking himself hard and fast.

  Roman relaxed, thinking about the best way to get to his nephew before Caius got to Red Fern. Simon was whimpering and driving his ass down hard on Roman’s cock, forcing himself to take the thick shaft to the hilt again and again, conflicting desires on his flushed face. The human’s cock was trying to get hard, and Roman idly grabbed the limp flesh, stroking it until it grew thick and long in his hand. Simon’s hot hole gripped him as the human obeyed beautifully, and Roman gave up trying to plan in favor of training Simon how to please his new master.

  ANDROMEDA hunted. The scent she followed from the cabin was familiar, floating over the snow as she ran. It pooled over her tongue, filling her nose, the other wolfkin’s scent full of rancid fear and desperation. Guilt added a tang to it, and her heart hurt beneath her determination to catch her wayward wolf.

  The traitor was one of her own.

  The moon was low on the horizon, dawn lighting the eastern edges of the forest when she caught up to the struggling beta. The slim female fought through the heavy snow, and she whined when she caught sight of Andromeda on her heels. Her struggles were for naught.

  Andromeda rammed into her side, lifting her high in the air, the small beta twisting and crying out in fear. She fell to the snow in a crumpled heap, and lay still, eyes wide.

  Andromeda shifted, and delicately picked her way through the crumbling snow crust to her beta’s side. She knew this wolf well, having carried her beneath her heart over a century ago, naming her as she took her first breath. She remembered her tiny cries, the day she found her wolf, her first howl, her first hunt. She remembered the day her daughter left, foolishly following after an unworthy lesser alpha of Black Pine.

  Andromeda’s heart broke, a thin crack in her implacable demeanor.

  Children were her greatest joy, and her fiercest sorrow.

  “Change, my daughter,” Andromeda bade her beta, who obeyed promptly. She sighed, heart heavy with regret and grief. “Claire, my child, what have you done?”

  “Forgive me, Mother,” Claire sobbed as she Changed, huddled in the snow, tears freezing on her cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

  Claire broke down, sobbing, as Andromeda stroked her pale golden hair, silver in the moon’s dying light. “Tell me all, my daughter. Tell me everything.”

  Dawn broke over the forest as Claire confessed, and Andromeda’s heart turned to stone even as the sun warmed her flesh.

  Hope for the Best

  GHOST CRAWLED out from under Kane’s arm, his mate slumbering, limbs strewn over the bed. The big wolfkin took up the entire bed, and kept Ghost under his arm the whole night. He smiled and tiptoed to the bathroom.

  He relieved himself and washed up, leaving the bathroom to see Kane still asleep. His stomach rumbled, and he sniffed, not smelling bacon. Andromeda must not be cooking breakfast. Dawn was still breaking over the trees, so maybe it was too early. He frowned and tried to recall the last few hours.

  He smelled smoke and sweat and the leftover bitterness of stress and worry...the cabin!

  Ghost sprinted from the bedroom, following his nose, and he burst into the room next to his, jumping to the bed. He landed at Burke’s feet, the Speaker asleep with Sophia on the pillow next to his, both wolfkin exhausted and reeking of smoke and stress. Burke jerked awake and sat up, a bemused expression on his face as Ghost ran his hands over h
is naked torso, looking for injuries.

  “What the hell?” Sophia muttered, hair astray as she sat up, blinking. Burke shrugged, and Ghost made a distressed sound in his throat when he found the residual bruising on Burke’s ribs.

  “Hey, bud, whatchya doing?” Burke asked him, trying to stop his hands, wincing when Ghost pressed lightly over the still broken bone.

  “I’m sorry,” Ghost whispered softly to the Speaker. He pulled from that heavenly expanse in his center, spindling out light to the fractured bones under his fingers. Burke would heal soon enough on his own, but his hurts were Ghost’s fault. He wasn’t fast enough, didn’t warn them in time. He hurtled Burke through the air like a toy, and his mate’s dearest friend was hurt now because of his actions.

  Burke’s skin glowed under his hands, and he could see with his Spirit-sight the bones knitting together. The bruises faded away.

  “Sorry? Pup, you saved my life,” Burke said, incredulous. “I didn’t even get singed, when I should have been nothing but pink mist. I should’ve known better, especially with you warning us like that. We all know better than to ignore a shaman’s warning. Don’t be sorry.”

  The door slammed open and hit the wall with a brutal crash, bouncing back fast. Burke and Sophia jumped as Kane strode into the room, snarling. He wore only a pair of loose sweatpants, chest and feet bare. Ghost smiled at his mate, who glowered at the sight of his hands on Burke’s sleekly muscled chest. The glow receded, and Ghost lifted his hands away, turning to Sophia. She held up her hands and shook her head, warily eyeing Kane who stalked to the side of the bed and pulled Ghost up and into his arms.