by DD Prince
“Like you want me. Like you’re mine.”
What a way to wake up. Enveloped in warmth by someone who wants me. Someone good with their hands (and mouth and other parts besides…). Someone who, on sight, decided I was destined to be his.
How bonkers is that?
It’s not like I’m the only female he’s ever seen. If that were the case, I’d be my usual skeptical self. He makes it sound like he caught my scent on the wind and hunted until he found me.
So, not on sight, really, more like he decided on scent that I was his.
He’s had women before, so this isn’t just a case of a wild man seeing a female for the first time and getting hooked on me for that reason. He has had others and didn’t want to keep them.
He made a mark on my neck that feels like an erogenous zone. He’s said he’s given nobody else that mark.
He can burst into a wolf in a snap.
He does that magical thing inside me with his penis. His magical, no, supernatural penis.
I’m suddenly wishing I didn’t have to be at work tomorrow for the opening of the boutique. If only I had a few more days. I could use the extra time to… what?
Convince him to move to my city and date me?
Ha. Funny.
Convince him to go meet those people who say he’s their family so I can go, conscience clean, because he wouldn’t be out here with nobody to keep him company?
Say forget the job, screw my responsibilities, and just stay?
I was at the edge of the bed, ready to flee, but then what did I do? I climbed in with him, climbed onto him.
My thoughts are cut off as I’m rolled to my back and kisses are dotted down my body. My mouth drops open as he mouths my boobs over my shirt and then finds his way to between my legs. My panties are peeled down and then his mouth is there. There.
He’d yanked my shorts off when he came into bed last night so they’re somewhere in the mess of bedding.
It’s Sunday, and I have got to get home. I really need to be at work tomorrow. There’s no plausible excuse other than death for missing work tomorrow.
Certainly, I can’t stroll in a few days later and tell them I was abducted and forced into mating with a half man / half wolf.
I bite my lip. His head rises and his eyes meet mine. God, how they slice me open and see right inside. He knows. He knows I’m pondering my exit.
He’s not half man. He’s all man. 100% pure male. God, he’s gorgeous. And possessive. And normally, I find possessiveness in a man off-putting, but with Ty, I don’t. Something about the way he wants me, the way he looks at me… it’s not off-putting at all.
His jaw muscles flex and he moves up my body and spears into me in one solid thrust, making me gasp. His large hands frame my face as he uses his elbows to take his weight.
“Forget it,” he orders, thrusting deep, as deep as he can possibly go.
My lips part and my eyes roll back as my body accommodates his girth. A whimper escapes my mouth before I ask, “Forget it?”
He flexes his jaw muscles again.
“Forget what?” I ask breathily in a failed attempt at being haughty.
“Forget everything but me.”
“Aren’t you full of yourself?” I state.
“Who’s full of me?” He notches one eyebrow and slams his hips forward again.
I whimper in reply and then find some words. “It’s not so easy,” I tell him, feeling the wind come out of my sails a little. “I have to be at work tomorrow.”
His eyes narrow and he slams his hips forward again. This time with a swivel.
“Whoa.”
He looks at me like Damn right.
I decide to lay it all on the line.
“They’re relying on me, Ty. The store needs me there. It’s the first day.”
“Who’s they?” he demands, body going still but his cock still in me and hard as steel.
“My bosses. My coworkers. The store is opening. This weekend was a break for me after some grueling weeks of getting ready. Tomorrow is important.”
His lips touch mine and he rotates his hips, sending beautiful sensations through me. His fingers slide between my legs. Oh, he’s trying to distract me. Not happening.
I tighten my legs in a futile attempt to stop him from moving and grab his jaw so that he’s forced to stop and listen.
Or, that’s how it’s supposed to go, but he keeps moving and lets out a sexy groan as my heels dig into his ass cheeks.
“What do you do at this store?” he asks.
“I’m the assistant manager. It’s a women’s fashion boutique. I handle supervising the staff, cash management, inventory, employee training, opening and closing, customer escalations, that kind of thing.”
“You’re very distressed about this store. What else is bothering you?”
Another hip flex from him.
A small whimper from me, that I try to ignore.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Is that all there is?”
“No. My family expects me home this morning. In a few weeks, my sister is getting married so on top of my new job, there’s a whole lot goin’ on in my life.”
“What about that boyfriend you mentioned?” His expression darkens and he swivels his hips then caresses my throat, caresses that spot as if to remind me that he put it there, to remind me what it means in his mind.
I grab his wrist to stop him from doing that.
“Ty… if I had an actual boyfriend, do you really think I would let you do this to me?”
His body seizes for a second and then he puts his mouth to my ear and his voice vibrates through me. “I’ve decided you’re mine. Do you really think I’d let anyone stop me, you included?”
My blood turns instantly to ice.
Wow. That’s ugly. So ugly I unwrap my legs from him and put the heels of my hands against his shoulders and shove.
“Get. Off me.”
He doesn’t budge.
“Tyson!”
His tongue moves along the bitemark, sending buzzing threads of heat through my frozen blood.
“You have no boyfriend,” he breathes. “This makes me happy, Ivy.”
“I broke up with someone just a few weeks ago,” I whisper, trying to ignore the sensations in my body, how they work in tandem with his cock slowly, lazily sliding in and out and in and out. “But that you would even suggest you’d touch me anyway? You’re a filthy fucking animal.”
His body goes completely taut and his eyes hit mine.
A long moment of silence passes where his eyes burn into mine and I do my best to mirror that expression.
I growl at him and try to shove him off me.
He pins my arms above my head. “What a cute little growl you’ve got, my little mate. Mine is bigger. Let me show you what a fucking animal I am.” He growls against the skin behind my ear and I do my best to pull away but there’s no denying how that sound reverberates through all my erogenous zones.
“You act angry, but your tight little cunt just fastened harder around me.”
He’s right. There’s something primal about him growling while he fucks me that serves something carnal, sending my body into a wanton frenzy.
“I am angry.” I am also wetter and about three notches away from orgasming.
“And you lied about the boyfriend. You’re lucky we hadn’t mated yet when you told that lie or I’d be angry about that. Never lie to your husband, only one, or you’ll be severely punished.” He slams his hips forward and puts his lips to mine.
I struggle, but I can’t get out from under him.
“I don’t have a husband. And you better get off me,” I snap.
“No, I won’t get off you.” He glares into my eyes. “I’m glad you don’t have a boyfriend. I’d hate to have to disembowel someone you care about. But I would do it. No one claims a right to you, but me. No one.”
“Get off,” I shout. “You’re really making me mad!”
He pulls
his cock out and flips me to my belly effortlessly and then smacks my ass.
“Hey!” I shout.
“You are angry, aren’t you? I’m gonna have to fix that.”
I try to crawl out from under him, but he grabs a fistful of my hair and is slamming forward, spearing me. His cock swells inside me, doing that ‘knot’ thing and I take fistfuls of sheets into my hands and cry out as throbbing against my g-spot begins.
God, when that happens…
I’m angry, but coming. I’m angrily coming and it’s a whole new thing because it feels like I’m being electrocuted between the legs, from the inside out, and it feels freaking great. My whole body throbs with that sensation. It’s like a dance. A sexy as fuck dance between us with his body rocking, my body responding, and the sexiest sounding panting coming from his lips while he growls low.
He’s growling and my vagina is buzzing while he has a handful of my hair and it doesn’t hurt, it feels good. Great, actually.
He takes one of my breasts into his free hand and massages it, me impaled on him completely. And then I’m not touching the mattress; my ankles are hooked back around his thighs. His mouth suckles that spot in the crook of my neck and…
It.
Is.
Torture.
Beautiful torture. I can no longer think, only feel. His growl shifts to a purr as he assaults my body with his mouth, his cock, his hands. My hair is released so he can glide his hand down to cup between my legs, fingers pressing hard against my clit.
“Oh! Holy fuck. Oh God,” I cry as my orgasm unfurls and triples in intensity.
He groans loudly, then the pulsing inside me stops as fluid leaks out even as more comes out of him. We both fall forward, and Ty buries his mouth behind my ear, so I get to listen to him grunting and purring alternating because he’s spilling hot cum into me.
I’m so stuffed with him and after my body having that huge reaction while I’m so angry, my mind is racing. I’m so filled with fury right now; I could spit nails.
But he’s dotting kisses down my spine, caging me in with his arms and then he kisses his way back up and his mouth is against my ear. “You’re mine, Ivy. Nobody’s but mine. I’m glad you’re not wishing for someone else; I’m very glad. We don’t have to mention this again. But do not ever lie to me again. I love you, little soulmate, but I’m very angry with you right now.”
He kisses my shoulder and gets off the bed.
He loves me? Loves me? How can he say that to me? I spin over and emotions just burst from me. They erupt from my pores the way a wolf bursts from Ty when he shifts and I go at him with a feral cry, slapping his face.
This catches him by surprise.
“Do not ever fucking put your hands on me without my permission again. Ever again. In fact, you have no permission to touch me, you fucking monster.” I get up on my tiptoes to get as close to his face as I can get and scream, “Ever again. I’m going home!”
His cum is leaking down my leg so I angrily storm to the bathroom and slam the door.
“You’re already home,” he shouts, voice like thunder. “You succeed at leaving me, Ivy, I will hunt you down and when I find you, you’ll be sorry.”
Alone in the bathroom, I burst into tears.
“Very sorry!” he vows in a guttural voice that makes my chest bloom with pain.
22
Tyson
Uncle told me we had to keep our nature a secret because the non-shifters would fear us, exploit us, think of us as nothing but animals that were beneath them. He told me it was a vital rule, most important, because they would lock us up like animals and make us live in our own filth.
When she called me a filthy fucking animal, it cut deep. And then a monster? I’m angry with her.
I’m even more angry with myself because she’s upset with me. Truly furious. And that she thinks that of me? That I’m filthy and monstrous. And I must be, because I would rip apart any man or monster like me who thought she was his.
I would stop her from leaving me by any means.
Even if someone thought they claimed her first.
And if she did accomplish escape, I would hunt her down and bring her back. I won’t live without her.
I don’t like how I feel, staring at the closed bathroom door that’s between us. First, I hear things falling or being thrown more likely, and then the water running, the toilet flushing, followed by the sounds of my Ivy crying. I hear her whimpering. Not the whimpers I give her that make her tremble and writhe with ecstasy; these whimpers are not like that. Her breath hitches and she’s sad. I not only feel but smell the sadness and it’s immense.
And I wanna hold her, comfort her, take the sad away.
My chest feels heavy at those sounds and I don’t like it.
I don’t like it.
I’m angry. I’m an angry filthy monster and I want to rip something apart.
I wanna rip the door down and pull her into my arms even more.
I want her laughing and sweet, holding me, running her fingers through my hair.
She makes a choking sound and I can’t take it anymore.
I rip the door wide and find her sitting on the floor beside the bathtub, her knees up against her chest and her face buried in them. She jerks up and looks at me with red eyes and a swollen face. She dashes tears away with the back of her hand and I see her purple wrist. I put that purple there. I put those tears there.
I feel sick. So sick.
I drop to my knees and gather her toward me, but she pulls away. Of course she does. She wants nothing to do with me.
“Ivy…”
She slaps at my face and I’m shocked. She slaps it again and then she’s pounding on my chest with both fists, tears streaming down her cheeks. She’s wild with her anger, smacking me and crying, her breath stuttering with her sobs.
I lift her off the floor and take her to the bed. I want her to stop hurting, stop being angry and sad.
I don’t know what to do, how to make it better, so I try purring. She likes it when I purr.
She stops punching and buries her face in my chest, puts her arms around my neck and sobs harder.
“Ivy,” I pull her close and pull the covers over us.
Those arms around me feel like everything I want.
Now she’s trying to escape again.
I hold tight despite that she’s trying to pull away from me.
She’s so very angry at me and she doesn’t know whether she wants me or hates me. I hate it.
“Lemme go, lemme go, lemme go.” She punches me with her little fists. One catches my jaw. The other pounds on my chest.
I let her go. She turns away and buries her face into the mattress, her body shaking with her distress.
“Leave me alone!” she demands in a voice that sounds wet and hoarse.
I back away, grabbing yesterday’s jeans and reaching into the cabinet for a shirt. I step outside and stare at the sky.
I feel lost.
I feel hopeless.
I hurt.
I prowl back and forth across the porch, dragging my hands through my hair, wanting to rip my own innards out.
I have no choice but to find a way to get this aggression out. I know this rage inside me can be deadly and it needs out and needs out nowhere near her. If she runs, I’ll just have to hunt her down. I let my muscles flex; I allow the beast in me to thrust its way forward. He comes hard. I shift. I shift and then I prowl off the wood porch, across the grass, to the edge where it turns to dirt and rocks, by the willow tree. I begin to mark a perimeter around the house. All the way around, so that no animal, no bird, not even an insect would dare approach.
I snarl while I do it, chest rising and falling fast with the pending haze.
Will it work to keep her safe? I hope so. I glance over my shoulder at the building, knowing that by going for a run there’s a chance she’ll leave. The truck keys are in my jeans on the ground, so if she goes without figuring this out, it’ll have to be on foo
t, and she’ll be covered in my scent if she does
I have no choice but to go. I need this fury out of me nowhere near her.
***
It’s a thirty-minute drive to the forbidden village, a hamlet nestled in rolling hills and dense forests.
This means it’s a much longer run than that and I don’t know how long it has taken; I only know I’ve run fast, trying to run out my aggression, hunting down and devouring a deer and a rabbit on my way. I’ve run, my feet taking me in this direction, and I don’t know why. I’m just drawn here, much like I was directly after Cornelius died.
It’s not often anyone would happen upon the intersection where the forbidden village begins by chance since there is no common roadway in. It’s accessible through a long country road, longer than the road leading away from my house, outside the Indian reservation property, which is sprawling, beyond private property signs, and detour signage designed to make you believe you should turn around and go back the way you came.
I get the sense that this place is designed with the idea that there’s no reason for outsiders to linger here. A gas station with a small store attached, plus a non-descript large wooden barn-like building are all anyone passing through would see other than a few homes. The chance of someone even coming in this far would be small. I don’t know what else is here, don’t know how many are part of this pack, but before I’ve stopped at the intersection, I’ve been assaulted by many odors. Aromas that are familiar, that tug threads inside me, making the things I thought were real feel as if they unravel, making nothing make sense but yet fusing things together that feel like they could make sense.
I strive to flip through the scents that last time confused me, to untangle and name them. Some of them I feel like I know. Some, I don’t. I know some are young, some are older, some are men and some females. I also know some are more like me than others. Relatives? Alphas in the pack?
A door creaks open at the gas station and a woman near my age stands there, staring. She then drops her chin to her chest and she’s weeping.
She’s weeping while holding the doorknob.
I don’t know her. Why does she weep at the sight of my wolf? Fear? She’s a shifter. I don’t sense fear from her.
Motion catches my attention from the edge of my periphery. Two men are beside the large barn-like building, a door open. They, too, stare at me in my wolf form with something emanating from them that I don’t know how to translate.
