A
s Mel had predicted, Cordea went to bed early. Dinner was simple fare – fresh baked bread, some sort of meat chops, some greens. Over the meal, Cordea answered Grace’s questions about werewolves in general, their behaviour, their social patterns, their transformation. Cordea could still turn into a wolf but didn’t often anymore. She was considered a wise woman and the villagers kept her fridge and pantry well-stocked.
After they’d cleaned the kitchen, Cordea showed Grace her bedroom and excused herself for the night. It was not quite 9 o’clock. Grace sat in the living room, on the couch, in the same spot she sat earlier and thought about all that had happened in the last 24 hours. She’d arrived up north with her professor, Eric. A man she thought she loved but as the memory of his death flitted through her brain, she felt sadness, but not grief. Even the terror of the bikers, chasing her, trying to rape her, was fading fast. The thought of their deaths didn’t even evoke an emotional reaction. And her terror of Hawes was almost gone.
Was it truly the pull of the moon as it rose causing her emotions towards him to soften? Was it the brightness of its shine forcing her desire for him to pulse? Or was it her incremental belief that the prophecy was true? And if that was the case, should she embrace it? She would be mated to a powerful man. He would rule and she would be by his side. All would respect and bow to her. The lure of power was heady and it shuddered through her, fusing with her carnal desire, bathing her in a lust for control, for recognition, for Hawes. Making her needy, wanting, wanton.
Perhaps it was this Hunter’s Blood Moon, this closeness to Hawes. The realization that he was the one man in this world that she truly wanted to fuck. She knew it, believed it. And to be part-wolf! The idea was scintillating, electrifying. Even if the trait was latent, the knowledge would allow her to embrace it, explore it, leverage it. She groaned as dampness grew between her thighs. She wanted Hawes, wanted him now. She didn’t know if she could wait 24 hours for him to be inside her. He was there in her mind, fucking her from behind, his large, hard cock impaling her, shoving into her pussy, forcing its length, its width into her, piercing her, filling her up. Holding her waist with his hands, nails digging into her tender flesh. Pounding her virgin cunt, making her his. Taking her first blood.
The dampness was flooding her now, her desire spilling over and she ran her hands down her belly to her pussy, her finger circling her clit, urging it to orgasm. She was there, closer than she’d ever been, the pressure in her belly, in her pussy growing. The need, the wanting. She was on the precipice, the edge of the cliff, her fingers flew faster, she fucked herself with her other hand. But she couldn’t let go. She could not peak, not fly off the edge, no matter her thoughts, no matter her lust. She snarled in frustration as she kicked her legs out and slammed her thighs shut on her hands. Her fingers wet with her desire lingered close to her pussy. Then she brought them to her lips, licked them, sucked them, imagining, wishing they were Hawes’ cock. She felt like she was dying.
It was after 10 now, Grace realized as she looked at the clock on the fireplace mantle. Mel would be waiting and that was good. This party would be a perfect distraction. Get her mind off Hawes, off his hard body, his soft lips, his giant erection. She bolted to her feet. “Enough!” she whispered. She wasn’t sure who she was anymore. Not the anthropology student in love with her professor. A werewolf, an alpha’s mate, maybe a whore.
She hesitated at the door, thought of Hawes again. He would not like that she was leaving Cordea’s house. He worried for her safety. But if he were so worried, why would he saddle an old woman with the responsibility of minding her? A wolf beyond her prime that couldn’t stay up past nine to keep Grace company, to watch over her. He underestimated Grace’s will, thought her weak, servile, obedient. Maybe thought that after last night, she would be too afraid to step out of the safety of Cordea’s home. But the fear? She dug around inside her, searched for it. Nope, not there. The fear was gone, completely.
And her safety? She was not leaving the village. His village, now hers to rule, the benevolent queen. She chuckled quietly. What had happened between this morning and tonight to change her mind about everything? This morning she wanted to go home, she wanted to be rescued. This morning she was in denial. But tonight, she believed. She wanted to stay, she wanted to be part of this community. No, she wanted to lead this community, as Hawes queen. Hawes! She desperately wanted him, wanted him to fuck her, touch her, with his hands, his mouth, his cock. Her pussy throbbed in agreement. She craved him like an addict
She stared up at the night sky as she stepped outside. No streetlights in this village. No electricity. But that hardly mattered tonight. The sky was cloudless and bright, the moon, almost full, forcing the darkness to the shadows, leading her down the road. It was the difference, she knew. She felt its pull. She was one of them. She was part of the prophecy. It overwhelmed her emotions and tears of gratitude slid from her eyes.
The town hall loomed in front of her and she slowed her steps as she approached. No light radiated, not the flicker of candles or the glow of a fireplace. And so quiet. Neither movement nor the murmur of soft voices. Where were the women? Where were the lights? She stopped in the middle of the road and frowned, hurt flitting through her. Maybe no one was interested in attending. Or maybe Mel had been insincere, toying with her. This time her tears were of anger and she swiped at them. These bitches who dared to turn their backs on her! Tomorrow night, she would be their queen, they would bow to her! And she would make them suffer. She turned her back on the building, on the betrayal and started to leave when Mel stepped from the shadows.
“Grace,” she said in an urgent, hushed voice. “Here. We have to keep the lights low so that we don’t attract attention.”
Relief threaded through Grace as she walked towards Mel. She was too emotional, she scolded herself. Too quick to judgement. They were here. They came. They would embrace her, accept her, love her. It’s all she wanted. But as she stepped into the shadows she realized all wasn’t as it should be. A dog stood beside the blond woman, black as a demon, with red glowing eyes and a dark, endless maw for a mouth. So large it’s back towered over Mel. Grace stood rooted to the ground. “Mel?” she croaked, as terror threaded its tendrils through her body.
Mel’s smile split her face, but her eyes were ice cold, filled with hate. “Grace, this is Nordil, Hawes’ father. Nordil, this is Grace, Hawes’ mate.”
Grace gasped. She was too stupid to be the Alpha’s mate! So quick to believe Mel, her desire for female companionship overriding her instincts. And where the fuck was Cordea, the supposed seer? Why didn’t she see this and warn Grace? Or maybe she did see this. Maybe the bitch was in on it with Mel. Maybe they both wanted her gone. “You bitch!” Grace seethed.
Mel’s smiled broadened. “Ah if the shoe fits.” She giggled as she moved past Grace, brushing her arm, unafraid. “I hope you two have a good visit.” She walked off down the road in the direction Grace had come as Nordil padded softly up to Grace and sniffed her.
“Ah, you smell innocent and… “ he paused. “Fertile.”
Grace jolted, took a step back and tried to run from him, but he was faster, stronger, perhaps more motivated. He threw his paws around her and swept her into him. Literally. Then he bounded away and out of the village.