Danielle and the Wolf

In a world far different from our own, in a time where men lived by their wits and strange creatures roamed the lands, a child was born. She was born of common folk, parents who marvelled and wondered at the girl who had come from their bodies.

She was beautiful, a child with hair as gold as the two suns that shone down over her world, eyes as deep and blue as the waters surrounding her tiny village. Her features were fair with a sculptured grace so unlike the rest of the villagers who were a dull and loutish group.

She grew swiftly into a woman who made men’s hearts leap in their breasts and caused lust to busily pool in their loins. But she also grew intelligent and gentle with a tender heart for the young, old and injured. Her parents, bemused at having such a child, granted her every whim. And while she should have grown spoiled from the attention heaped upon her, instead, she grew even more lovely and caring.

The days were warm and bright with soft winds and fragrant breezes just starting to turn cold at night as the seasons progressed. The girl, named Danielle after her father’s mother, spent her days out in the village and the surrounding fields. She ploughed and tilled, picked and gathered with the rest of the villagers, singing happily as she helped collect the foodstuffs that would see them through the long hard days of the harsh winter to come.

After the last of the late night meals was cleaned up, her evenings were spent romping around the woods near the river that surrounded the village. She had a favored spot, a tiny clearing where a bubbling spring gurgled happily. The birds and animals that came to this clearing were never alarmed or bothered by her presence, sensing in her a goodness that calmed their fears. She was treated as one of them, not predator or human but one of God’s gentle creatures.

Tonight, though, after the last dish was washed, the last pot scraped and its contents stored in the tiny cold house deeply carved into the riverbank, there was an expectant feel to the air, almost a gloom of some dark threat to come. Danielle shook away the feeling as she clamored over the wet stones of the river with a grace that even the most agile mountain animal could envy. She headed for her haven, and her heart sang with the freedom she only felt there.

She reached the clearing as the first sun set in the west. Shadows were long from the second sun, and she knew she had little time to enjoy her solitude. She rounded the last tree, skipping through the deep grass. The quiet that seemed almost as fog didn’t register to her at first, but the man, asleep at the foot of the tree did, cutting off her song mid-stanza and her movement mid-skip.

Her hand went to her breast as she stared at the stranger. He was tall and lean, his legs encased in black leather that was tucked into thick leather boots. His wide chest was barely covered, a white billowy shirt loosely held closed by thin, white strips. But it was his face that caught and held her attention so completely.

He was beautiful. There were no other words for it. His hair was thick, and long, black waves fell over his shoulder and around his head into the grass. His features were classical, and he had a long, thin nose over a wide mouth, sharp cheekbones and thickly lashed eyes. His wide forehead was smooth and worry-free in his sleep.

His eyes would be brown, she thought as she moved closer on silent feet. Brown and rich like the drink that the village elders made to warm themselves on cold winter evenings. Her own eyes, blue deepening until almost black, roved over the picture he made lying in her clearing with the grass as soft as a pillow under him.

He woke suddenly and reached for the long sword that was strapped at his side. Before she could blink, he was on his feet, the tip of that sword pressed firmly against her throat and a snarl on his lips.

She didn’t know which of them was more surprised. He hesitated for a few brief moments, his startled eyes gleaming in the nearing darkness as they roved over her with a warmth that was almost tangible. Then his sword fell carefully from where it had rested in the hollow of her throat.

“You startled me, wench.”

His voice was deep, a voice meant for singing in Lord’s halls in front of a fireplace on winter nights. Or to murmur sweet words into a woman’s ear under the hangings of a massive, four-poster bed. They caused shivers to start in her toes and travel sneakily up her nerve endings, tightening her nipples into taut buds that thrust against the rough fabric of her tunic.

But while the voice was wonderful and startling, what had her complete attention were his eyes. They weren’t the deep, rich brown she had expected. Not even close. No, they were jade, a true and eerie green that almost shone in the half-light of her haven. They drew her in, caused a hitch in her breathing and a shiver of something she had never felt before, something that was dark and sweet.

“Do you speak, wench?”

His words made her start, and she realized that she had been rudely staring at the stranger.

“Yes.” Her reply was a breathless almost whisper and she cleared her throat. “Yes, sir,” she said again a little louder. “You startled me. I wasn’t expecting anyone in my clearing.”

He smiled, amused by her embarrassment. “This is yours?” He gestured around the clearing with his free hand. “It belongs to you?”

She twisted her slim fingers into her skirt. “No, sir. It belongs to the Lord. He lives there.” She pointed at an area just beyond his shoulder and up. “I come here to enjoy the evening, sir. I do no harm.”

The stranger never even glanced in the direction she pointed. He didn’t see the huge castle that seemed to dominate the hillside it sat upon, a castle built of white stones mined from a country far to the south and carted to this spot. It glistened in the dwindling light, expensive glass windows sparkling as the last rays touched their mirror like surface. Statuary stood out in bold relief against the shadowed walls that surrounded the keep to make it seem so much a world onto its own.

“And do you live in this Lord’s manor?” The stranger took two step forwards, bringing himself in close proximity with the girl. Girl wasn’t an apt description for her. She was tall and trim, long golden curls tumbling down her back. Her homespun clothing, though rough, was clean and well made, fitting her long curves like a lover’s hand. Her eyes were shadowed, but he hoped they were the blue of deep lakes. Her lips were lush and slick, and he watched as she slid her tongue across them.

“No, sir. I live in the village back there.” She indicated behind her with one long fingered hand. He was too close. She could smell him, a tantalizing smell that caressed her senses. He smelled of sweat and sweet grass, leather and something that was pure male. It teased her senses and made her nervous so that she took a small half-step from him. “I should go. It will be dark soon. My parents will fear for my safety.”

She turned, ready to flee her small clearing and put the safety of the village between her and this stranger who caused such uneasy flutters in her belly with but one glance of his uncanny eyes.

He grabbed her hand, unwilling to let her leave him and curious as to how such an exquisite face and form could have come from such dark and graceless villagers. Beauty such as hers belonged with the nobility whose bloodlines could be traced back to those who’d taken the first steps upon this planet back when their ancestors had had the knowledge of flight.

He felt a strange draw to her, something, that in his younger more foolish day, he would have admitted as a stirring of the soul. But now, he was wiser, more experienced in the ways of women. The only thing he would admit was an attraction to a pleasing shape and fine features. What would it take to make this shy maiden his?

“Come,” he said in his deep, mesmerizing voice. “There’s time. Sit with me for a few moments.” He led the reluctant girl towards the tree where he had been resting, pulling her down to sit next to him. He kept her hand, knowing if she were free she would bolt back to her village and they would keep him from her. Not that they could stop him if he were determined. It just seemed a lot of work to go through for a village girl.

Danielle’s breath shortened. She knew it was fear—fear of a stranger in her forest where no stranger had ever been before, fear of being disrespectful even when she knew she should run from him and back to the safety of her at home.

“Don’t fear me, girl. I won’t hurt you.”

Her heart thudded against her breast, beating so loudly she would have sworn he could hear it. “I… I don’t fear you, sir. My parents will worry if I do not return soon. They will come to find me. I…I don’t wish to worry them sir, so if you’d let go…”

The words were a warning. He realized it and even smiled inside at the false bravado she displayed. He held onto her hand despite her tugging until she realized she was doing nothing but amusing him.

“Do you have a name, girl?”

“Yes.” But she didn’t wish to give it to him.

He smiled, a quick flash of white teeth that seemed even brighter in the gloom of the clearing. “What must I do to find out this name?”

Danielle took a deep breath to steady her nerves. Instead, the scent of him drifted to her, caught on the breeze. It snarled through her senses and caught at her imagination once more. The breath she had wished to use for calm now excited her. She felt the hitch even as she heard it. Her heart rate quickened even more. She had an insane urge to lean closer, to bury her nose in his neck and breathe in his scent until she was saturated with him.

To give him her name gave him ways of finding her later. This she couldn’t do. She shook her head, pulling against him and her own weakening resolve.

“Please, sir, I must leave.”

“I but wish you to sit with me. That is all.” His fingers caressed the palm of her hand in ways that made her skin flush and her heart race. She knew he must know the reaction he caused. She saw the flash of his teeth once more, then he raised the hand he held, bringing it to his lips. His mouth rested against her skin, his tongue stroking at the delicate lines of her palm.

“S-s-sir, please don’t.” She jerked her hand hard and pulled away, freeing herself from him. Rising quickly, she hurried out of the clearing and away through the forest, her feet moving as if they had wings and were fleeing the devil himself. His laughter caught on the breeze and was carried to her ears. It was a rich sound, basic and raw.

When she reached the edge of the forest, she glanced back, feeling safe this close to her home. Eerie green eyes stared back at her, startling her. She rushed to her back door, seeing the rising of one of the three moons of her home world, and in the woods, startling close, she heard the lonely cry of a wolf.

She stayed close to home the next two nights, her eyes constantly searching the paths that led into her village. Her parents were puzzled at her actions, but she had no excuse to give them. How could she tell them of the stranger she had met without alerting them to her behavior? It was inexcusable for someone of her stature and standing to speak to one of the gentry much less behave in the shameful way she had.

Her reaction to him scared her most of all. She still heard his rich voice speaking to her softly, felt his eyes upon her and the devilish way they made her feel. She still felt the shape of his lips against her palm and the way his tongue had caressed it in carnal ways she knew nothing of. The thought of that forbidden kiss brought images to her mind of other things more forbidden, and that kept her home.

On the third night, though, she couldn’t stay shut in any longer. Winter was close, the harvesting was almost done, and soon she would have no choice but to remain close to the fire as the ice and cold blew through the village.

This night was almost balmy, a light wind lifting her hair and skirt as she picked her way over the stones in the river. Her heart sang as the quiet shadows of the forest closed around her, her home away from home since she first toddled here. She felt safe and secure, her senses detecting no abnormal sights or sounds.

She reached her clearing and, not wanting to be caught again, approached as quietly as she could in case he was still here. No one was in sight. Her heart sank in disappointment even as she scolded herself for feeling such things. He was noble. His clothing and manners had screamed the words at her. She was common. The most she could be to him would be but a few moments distraction.

She sat down next to the tree he had been under, her hand on the ground where he had rested his head. Her eyes were sad as they shifted through the clearing, seeing it in a different light now that he was gone. The welcoming haven seemed deserted and cold now.

Shaking her head at her whimsical notions, she plucked some of the leaves that had changed colors and fallen into the tall grasses then wove their long stems deftly into a fairy crown. Putting it upon her head, she swept a deep curtsey to her suitor, who in her imagination was no longer the blond, gentleman she’d always envisioned. Now he was dark as night with green eyes that glowed with knowledge and power.

In her imagination, he took her hand, turning it in his own to press his lips once more to her palm and making it tingle with pleasure. His eyes when he looked down at her swept over her and her clothing changed from the plain homespun she always wore to a glittering gown of white that teased and tempted with its low cut and silky fabric. Her hair was swept up, the colored fairy crown becoming a jeweled tiara woven into her golden curls. Her tiny feet were encased in satin, heels clicking as she walked, instead of the smooth leather shoes that laced to her ankles.

The clearing disappeared, becoming an immense fanciful room filled with art and couples dancing to music that spoke to the soul. Bodies twisted, swayed and twirled to the sweeping beat of the musicians hidden from sight by thin lacquered screens. Her partner, in black, tailored clothing made of fine cloth and more handsome than any other man present, drew her to the floor, his arm pulling her close, his hand covered her own. They moved together to the music, her gown flaring from her waist as he spun her in intricate designs that brought a smile to her red lips and a light to her dark eyes.

His eyes spoke with their own light, a dancing green flame that told of his longing for her. The hand at her waist became more possessive, holding her to him so she felt the length of his hard muscles against the lithe curves beneath her gown. He leaned closer to her, his head slowly bending over hers, his mouth coming ever closer to her own. She held her breath, desperately wanting to know what his lips would feel like upon her own. He was close, his eyes shutting as his mouth brushed—

“Well, well, well. What have we got here?” A voice snapped her from her daydream and back to reality. “Lookee here, boys. Seems to me we’ve got us a princess.”

Danielle backed away, seeing the men for the first time since they had so stealthily entered her clearing. It was later than she usually stayed, the shadows encompassing her glen, the brilliant light of the moon shining brightly. The three men looked rough, their clothing better than hers, but not as well taken care of. They were armed, swords and knives glittering wickedly from belts at their waists. And they surrounded her until she was pressed against that same tree her magical suitor had held her to.

“I think you scared her,” the biggest and ugliest of the three said. His mouth opened, his teeth blackened and broken showing between thick, slobbery lips. He had a hideous scar down the side of his face, starting just below his eye and curving in a crescent shape to the corner of his mouth.

He reached out and touched her hair, pulling the crown of leaves from her head. He tossed it aside as they came closer to her.

Danielle couldn’t breathe or think. The men crowded against her, touching her hair, roughly pulling at her tunic, ripping the fabric. She smelled their foul, unwashed bodies and felt their coarse hands against her smooth skin. Lips pushed against hers, as one man crushed her against the tree, his tongue thrusting against her mouth like a slimy pulsating worm. He pinched her nipple through her tunic, causing her to scream, and his tongue pushed inside. It searched her mouth with foul intent, making her gag in reaction. She tried to bite down upon it, but he sensed her action and pulled back, his hand coming up to strike against her head hard, knocking her to the cold ground.

He fell upon her, ignoring her screeching, biting and clawing as he pulled and ripped at her clothing. His lips suckled at her neck, drawing blood to the surface. He pulled back, admiring the red mark he had made in the moonlight. His hand swept down the front of her tunic, and he yanked at the neckline ripping it almost in half. The fine cloth of her shift shone white, the material very old and often washed, threadbare over her heaving breasts.

He bent over her, his lips finding her nipple under the shift, his tongue wetting the material. When she screamed, he laughed around the fine morsel in his mouth, clamping his hand across her lush lips so hard her teeth cut into her mouth. She choked on the blood as he bit down on her nipple then took the fabric in his teeth and pulled, tearing the delicate material as if it were lace.

His hand came up and cupped her heaving breast, squeezing hard. She screamed at the pain, her cry muffled by his thick fingers across her mouth. Her eyes searched the clearing, seeing the two men standing over them, waiting their turns to molest her soft flesh. One man had opened his breeches, exposing himself. His hand moved over the turgid flesh of his cock, and for the first time, she saw what a penis looked like. Terror filled her, making her fight harder. She knew something of what mating was like, who could live in a village as tiny as hers and not. That thing he stroked as if it were a pampered pet would rip her in two. She had no doubt.

She kicked her legs hard. Her knee rose between the man’s legs and struck him a cruel blow. His mouth opened, saliva hanging grossly from one side to drip upon her as a silent scream wretched from him. He fell off of her, curling into a protective ball, one hand cupping his brutalized anatomy. He lay there, his white face turning red as pain denied his breathing.

Danielle leaped to her feet, backing carefully away from the other two men. Her eyes darted, searching the clearing for a weapon of some kind, finally lighting upon a branch just a few steps to her right. She ducked left then darted right, her hands falling upon the branch as hard hands grabbed her waist, spinning her around.

She used the spin, letting the momentum push behind the blow she landed with the thick branch now grasped firmly in both hands. She struck her attacker squarely on the cheek, knocking him away from her. He stood for a moment, shaking his head as he cleared it, watching as his friend followed the ferocious beauty as she leapt around the clearing, searching for a way out. She swung the branch every time he got close, panic causing her to miss more than land her blows. She tired quickly, sobs shaking her shoulders and causing her exposed breast to sway and move provocatively.

He was about to join the fray, eager to get his hands on that soft smooth flesh when he heard a low and menacing growl rumble from the shadows behind him. He turned and searched the blackness, seeing nothing at first. Then, suddenly, as if they had just opened, huge green eyes stared back at him, glowing angrily.

A huge black wolf showed himself, leaping forward with snarling sharp fangs that gleamed an unholy white in the moonlight. His thickly furred body was immense, bigger than a normal wolf by half again, his chest deep and powerful. He threw back his well-shaped head, ears flat against his skull, and howled angrily, startling all in the clearing.

Danielle almost dropped the branch as she stared at the huge beast. He was beautiful, in his prime, with strong muscles bunching rhythmically under his shining pelt. He looked at her for a moment, his eyes boring into her own before once more taking in the three men who now stood, swords out and ready. Even the man she had brought down with her knee had risen, his body bent over, his breathing shallow. His sword was held in an unsteady and trembling hand.

They faced the wolf, their backs to her. She could run now, escape back to her village before they knew she had left. But she couldn’t leave the wolf. He had shown himself and now prowled slowly around his prey. But even his huge size and sharp fangs were no match for three strong men armed with swords. She couldn’t let him die because he’d protected her.

As she thought this, the wolf attacked, feigning a lunge at one of the men before rushing in to grab at the hand of the weakest man. He dropped his sword and fell back, the wolf’s sharp nails scratching deep groves into his chest as he used it to spring board away from the other men. His lithe body turned in the air and he landed softly on his paws, braced and ready.

Danielle snuck behind one of the two men who were standing, her arms raised above her head, the branch poised to bring down upon his head. She stepped forward, her foot coming down on a hidden twig. The snap had the man spinning to confront her, his sword up. She brought the branch down upon his sword, knocking it aside and then back up, hitting him as hard as she could under the chin. His head spun up, and he fell, his pants still open from earlier.

As she turned, she heard a shrill yip. Her eyes searched out the wolf. His side was bloody, but he was up, pacing around the last standing man. She flinched at the sight of the blood that dyed the man’s sharp blade a bitter red. Danielle hurried towards the wolf, stepping in front of it. She held the branch in front of her with two hands.

“Leave and I won’t hurt you,” she said, her voice breathless and shaky but determined. “Take your friends and go.” The wolf growled from beside her, adding to her demands in his own feral way.

The man, his bravado gone now that his friends were down, reached over and helped up the conscious man. Between them, they picked up the other one, letting him dangle from their shoulders. They left, the bloodied man still mewling and cupping his free hand around his groin.

Danielle didn’t move until she knew they were gone, then she turned nervous eyes upon the wolf. She gave a cry as it fell over, blood rushing from the gash in its side.

The wolf groaned, sounding almost human in its pain, and she dropped the branch, hurrying over to help. She found the wound wasn’t deep as she ran her hands through the thick fur, pushing gently at the edges of the gash. But it bled a lot. She tore a long length of material from the bottom of her shift then pressed it firmly against the wound. The wolf growled its pain, and she murmured to it, crooning nonsense in an attempt to comfort as she staunched the bloody mess.

She tied fresh bandages around its middle, her arms stretching to reach around the massive beast. It lifted its body each time she passed the material around its chest. She tied the bandage in a knot, sitting back on her heels to check her handiwork.

Night covered the forest with a dark shroud that not even the light from the three moons penetrated, deepening the gloom of the shadowed glen. Danielle realized she was out far later than she’d ever been before. A surge of daring and reckless nerve poured through her exhausted body. The burst of adrenaline from the attack and the subsequent fight had kept her steady as she’d faced the injured wolf. Now, it left her body, causing her to shake in fatigue. Her body cried out for rest.

She stared down at her protector’s furry body, noting his heavy panting and his pain from the wound in his side. If it had not been for him, her fate would have been quite different. She wouldn’t be standing here, still free, safe and mostly uninjured. He’d bested those men and hadn’t hurt her. How could she leave him here alone and unprotected after he had risked his life so fearlessly protecting her own. Any predator could kill him in his weakened state, any hunter take his life for his pelt and the glory that killing a wolf brought.

He had been hurt in protecting her. It was her turn to protect him. She sank down next to him, stretching out her tired body in the sweet grass. The cool winds blew over her, reminding her that her tunic was torn and her shift was nothing but rags, the top torn by her attackers, the bottom ripped away to make bandages. She shivered in a combination of fear and cold then shifted herself next to the wolf, curling around him and absorbing the heat of his body. He gave a little moan, deep in his throat, moving his head to rest it upon her neck. Her hands dug into the thickness of his fur, reveling in its warmth and softness. His quiet breathing in her ear, she closed her eyes and let sleep take her.

The sky was a bright and vivid blue. Twin suns hung from an almost cloudless sky and shone down on fields of green and amber. The trees that were just changing from hues of green and gold to brilliant scarlet and the dark browns of the next season. A crisp fresh wind was blowing, stirring the leaves and reminding those who were of a mind to rest and enjoy the day that the seasons were changing and ice and snow would soon cover the ground.

Birds twittered and sang, swooping from the higher branches where their nests, now empty, rested safe and secure from most of the predators who would otherwise prey upon their young. They fed off the tiny insects, gathering strength for their long flight to the warmer climes. One in particular, his feathers sapphire blue and dazzling in the sun, darted over and around the entwined couple laying in the clearing, obviously enthralled with the golden curls that lay haphazardly about the beautiful girl’s head.

He landed in the grass with a tiny bounce and a resounding peep, skipping closer to the fine silken tresses, his little head cocking back and forth jerkily as he studied the enticing strands. With one last brave hop, he reached down and picked up a few stray pieces of the glistening hair in his tiny beak and pulled, his wings beating against the air as he tried to take off with it.

“Oh!”

Danielle awoke sharply, the pain of her fine hair being tugged tumbling her from her warm, soft dreams. She raised her hand to the side of her head and watched in disbelief as a tiny blue bird flew away to madly scold her from the safety of a high branch, in its busy mouth a few of her long locks. She rubbed her head and settled back against the warmth next to her, her mind not quite aware enough to realize where she was. She snuggled into the cosiness of her bed, her arm naturally falling around the warmth of her pillow. With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of sweet grasses, fresh air and musky male.

She stretched then snuggled deeper into the sweet smelling grass, stroking her hand down the long warmth of the pillow. Her fingers bumped over bandaged wrapped ribs, across a firmly muscled stomach and came to rest on the soft skin just above a wiry patch of hair. She laid there for a moment, her mind befuddled still by sleep.

A low moan reached her ears, and her pillow moved under her cheek.

Danielle jumped to her feet, staring in horror at the long, very naked body of the man she had been snuggled up against. Her face colored hotly as her eyes travelled the length of his body, noting every muscled inch before coming to rest upon the turgid flesh that grew longer and harder between his finely haired thighs as she watched. Her hands flew to her now burning cheeks, and she quickly turned her head away, staring at the shadowed forest.

His chuckle filled the air, and she heard him stir. She took an involuntary look over her shoulder and met green eyes that danced with amusement. It was the noble who had kept her from her forest for days before she had finally braved it once more last night. He leaned on his elbows completely unconcerned that his body was totally exposed to her shy eyes.

“Sir!” She tried desperately to sound shocked and outraged, but her voice came out almost whisper soft.

“Lukas,” he replied, levering himself up just a little higher and looking down at the bandage around his waist.

“W-what?”

“My name is Lukas, little one. Is this your work?” He indicated the bandage then looked back at her. A grin crossed his face, the first honest amusement that he had felt in…well, since that day so many years before. His fingers pulled at the knots she had fashioned so cleverly the prior evening, pulling aside the stained rags until he could see his skin.

It was smooth and unblemished, without even a scar to show where he had been injured. It was his way, one body injured did not transfer to the other. He healed with amazing speed, his blood and organs replenishing themselves before death could take him.

It was what he had become.

“Nicely done. You have skill with a bandage.”

“S-sir Lukas…” Danielle began, licking her lush lips nervously.

“I am no knightly figure. Lukas will do.” He picked at a piece of grass that clung to his skin. “And your name, girl?” he asked with feigned nonchalance. “Will you finally gift me with its knowledge?”

“I’m confused, sir. Where’s the wolf?” she asked, once more not answering his query. She turned partially towards him, showing her slender profile, the tilted tip of her nose and a tiny spattering of freckles dotting her translucent skin. Her little chin set determinedly as she gazed everywhere but directly at him. Her eyes were incredibly blue in the light of the new morn.

It was good that she looked away. Her stunning profile was silhouetted by the shimmering gold of her hair. The length of her slender neck and her slim shoulders peeped from between the torn fabric of her tunic. He saw the tips of her full breasts, the nipples tight in the fresh breezes. He hardened more, amazingly, his rampant flesh seeming with a mind of its own.

She had cuddled up to him, seeking his warmth in the chill of the night. Her body had pressed against his, her hands caressing his skin in her sleep, waking him with a jolt of desire he had been hard pressed not to act upon. She’d lain beside a wolf, with a trust his kind seldom felt. But with her soft sensuality and beguiling frame she’d woken the beast in him.

“Wolf?” His mind had wandered from her question, his eyes never leaving her soft profile. He didn’t miss the decided nervousness that had her small tongue running along the lush swelling of her bottom lip, leaving a trail of slick wetness behind that was distracting. A soft moan escaped him at the thought of what that tongue and those beautifully curved lips could do. It would only take the right bait and a thoughtful plan to trap this tempting vixen.

“Sir, I was attacked last night, and a wolf charged to my rescue. It was injured. I couldn’t leave it alone and defenceless so I stayed by its side.” She turned and glanced at him as he lay supine in the soft grass, her face blushing and becoming warm as she saw once more the thick fullness of his shaft springing so randily from its bed of soft hair. That same soft hair her hand had stroked. She could still feel its texture against her fingertips. Her eyes raised and met his knowing gaze, laughter and heat dancing in his jade eyes.

She whirled and half-ran to the edge of the clearing, her mind bent upon leaving him. But at his sudden moan of pain, she paused. The prevalent part of her nature was good and kind and couldn’t leave any creature in pain. She turned and walked back to him, hesitating, her steps slowed even as her eyes scanned for signs of a wound.

“Where do you hurt, sir?” She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands stroking over the bandages he had draped back over his uninjured ribs. She went to pull them away and was startled to feel his hands wrapping firmly over her wrists. Her eyes flew to his in confusion, seeing the almost predatory gleam in the emerald depths.

His eyes kept her gaze, noting the startled-deer look of her own. She didn’t pull away, her body quivering in the sudden stillness. He tugged on her wrists gently, drawing her closer to him and pulling her mouth nearer to his own. He felt the panting heat of her breath against his mouth and scented the sweet aroma of woman rising from her flesh. She was aroused. He could sense it in her and smell it upon her body. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Why deny such flagrant attraction?

Her breasts flattened against his chest, the taut nipples rubbing provocatively against his skin. She shifted, stroking those full, pale globes against him, and the pleasure shooting through her from that stimulation caused a tiny moan to slip from her. His lips thinned, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared as he inhaled of her scent. For an instant there was something so completely primal about him, almost beast-like in the need that sprang to life in those strange eyes that she almost fought to get away.

This was forbidden, completely and provocatively so. To touch like this, to be next to a man not your mate, was punishable by banishment from the village. And to lay with a noble, one so far above her in class, could mean death. Her death. But this knowledge didn’t cool the need he fanned so effortlessly. She wanted to know the feeling of his lips against her own. Just that thought sent blood rushing in hot flames through her, sending a shiver to ache in the pit of her being.

He moved suddenly, flipping her to her back, his body resting against hers, holding her still without hurting her. He held her wrists above her head, moving to secure them easily in one of his large hands. The other stroked the skin of her wrist then followed the curve of her arm down, over her elbow to her shoulder. He found her chin with his fingers, raising it so he could look into her eyes, his mesmerising her with a flame of passion that stole her breath.

“You are beautiful, little one. Your skin is as soft as the breast feathers of a bird, your scent that of a sensual flower, erotic and enticing to any man.” His lips brushed the side of her mouth, his hair falling around them, curtaining them with an ebony cape. He teased her with tiny kisses, by passing her lips until her own mouth followed his, demanding its due of pleasure.

He tasted softly, feeling her sweetness, her shyness, holding them to himself like a priceless gift. She was a wonder in her innocence, a novelty for someone as bitter and caustic as he was. His free hand stroked her smooth cheek, pressed into the golden sunshine of her curls to hold her head still for his touch. Her hair welcomed his hand, caressing the hardness of his palm with clinging tendrils of silk and curling around his wrist as if to hold him to her.

He touched his tongue to the sensitive seam of her mouth, teasing her with little licks and sly touches. His mouth was soft upon her own and tempted her to taste him with a tender sigh. She was gentle fire under him Waves of innocent desire called to his wildness, called to the wolf even as he kept his kisses slow and sweet. He would deny his true nature and woo and cajole this rare beauty to respond to him in this form. He nearly howled his pleasure when she parted her soft lips, letting his tongue lap at the smoothness of her teeth then beyond into the dark heat of her mouth. Her tongue was passive at first, as shy as her eyes had been. Soon it responded to his tasting, slowly sliding against his own to play and tangle.

His free hand roved from her silken tresses to slip down the front of her tunic and part the ripped fabric further until he could easily reach her satiny skin. He stroked her smoothness, his fingers gliding languidly from her throat to her waist in sure caresses, barely brushing the warm globes of her breasts as he passed between. She shivered under him, and her body moved slowly as he petted her.

He coaxed her tongue into his mouth, sucking on it slowly. Her body arched as the startling contact caused illicit ripples of joy. He captured her moan in his mouth, reveling in the sounds she made. On the next slow stroke, he finally touched her breast, caressing the soft skin slowly before fully encompassing it in the heat of his calloused palm. He squeezed gently, then pulled his mouth from hers to look down at the flesh in his hand.

Lukas could see the marks from the man that had manhandled her so badly, the finger shaped bruises that showed almost black against her fair white skin. Those marks drew something from him, a rage so intense he wanted to find those men and kill them slowly as he had been unable to do the night before. Rage simmered inside of him, but gentleness was in his gaze and in his touch. He slowly teased her with feather-like strokes of his fingers until she arched into his hand, begging him to capture her fullness. Her nipple was a hard nubbin of desire, rosy pink and delicate-looking as it seemed to plead for his touch, his kiss.

“P-please, Lukas. I want…”

“Shh, I know what you want, little one.” His fingers brushed the hard tip. He smiled grimly when he heard her sharp intake of breath, and he released her wrists, knowing she wouldn’t fight him now. He licked lips suddenly gone dry in passion and bent his head. His hair caressed her bare shoulders and stomach as he nuzzled her smooth flesh. She arched again, her fingers tangling in the fullness of his hair, her body aflame with strange and wonderful delights.

He kissed the tip first, lapped it gently with his tongue. Her body stilled and grew taut under his. There was an expectant hush in her manner, a waiting for something that she didn’t understand. But she needed it. She desperately craved whatever was coming next. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers twining in soft locks of his hair that curiously reminded her of the wolf fur she had wrapped herself around the night before.

His mouth opened upon her skin, his lips suckling slowly at her rosy nipples, first one then the other. She tasted like honey in his mouth—flame-warmed honey that befuddled his senses more than any liquor he’d ever had. Her mewls of joy stroked the burning need inside of him, driving him to please her further, to make her feel the madness that was taking him over. She moved against him stroking his naked body with the roughness of her tunic, her legs parting, one knee raising to rest against his hips as her body cried out for more.

Raising his head, he took one of her hands, pressing a slow kiss into her palm. His eyes found hers, seeing them glazed with need, alight with fire. He could have taken her right then, thrust himself into her, and she would have let him, nay, welcomed him into her body. It was what he was used to, what he’d always done—taking pleasure, even while returning it, with no wish or desire for anything but what both he and the wench knew was a momentary lustful bout that meant nothing more.

This girl was innocence. She was goodness. She was desire and fire and love. Her arousal, the scent coming from her skin and woman flesh was mixed with an aroma of purity that tangled in his mind. He’d never known someone of her class as beautiful, as unashamedly kind and caring as she was. Nor one who responded so openly, so perfectly as she had to his touch. He should leave her pure despite the lust she so effortlessly inspired in him.

He slid to her side, resting her hand against his chest, closing his eyes for a second as desire and pleasure tangled in his belly at her touch. His leg came up and over hers, pulling them down to rest under the weight of his thigh. He looked into her eyes, noting confusion in her passion-darkened gaze. Her perfect features were flushed, her lips open as she struggled to control her breathing.

His eyes trailed to her throat, seeing her pulse flutter like fast-beating bird’s wings under her skin. Her shoulders were rosy, her breasts heaving from his caresses. He touched her, feather-light, softly stroking over her nipples, smiling darkly as she arched to his hand, her body craving his touch almost as much as he wanted to give it to her.

The skin of her stomach was smooth and pale, the muscles toned and taut. He found the tie to the waist of her skirt and deftly undid the knots, pulling it loose. His hand flattened against her skin and slipped under the loosened fabric not stopping until it rested on the top of her sleekly furred mound.

She struggled for a moment. Her hand raised to his shoulder, and her fingers tightened, nails digging in at the unfamiliar feeling of someone touching her intimately. Her body quaked at the strange sensations, her thighs straining against his leg.

His free hand raised to her face, pushing hair from her forehead, bringing his gaze to hers as she grasped the wrist buried in her clothing. He watched her eyes as he let his fingers part the smooth curls and slip between her swollen nether lips to stroke the heat of her damp slit. She gasped as little tremors exploded in her stomach. Her thighs trembling as unfamiliar sensations spread through her body from beneath his talented touch. Her hand clenched harder at his wrist for an instant before loosening, allowing him full access to her virginal heat with a low moan.

Tongues of fire lapped over her, she couldn’t catch her breath. Something tight seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach, a strange ache that refused to be denied. Her hips moved, the muscles in her smooth stomach undulating wantonly. She craved something only he could give her. Her whimpers filled the air around them, sounding like the sweetest siren song.

He watched her as her eyes half-closed in concentration, her lush lips parted, her nostrils flaring. The hand he had rested on his chest now stroked his skin, slowly coming closer to his own ache and driving him wild with every motion. He took her hand in his own and guided it to his thick shaft, quivering as her soft fingers wrapped around his base then began a shy, sensual exploration that threatened to bring the wolf’s lust to boil.

His finger slipped inside her virginal lips, feeling the muscles in her sheath contract and pull at him as if begging for him to give her more. He pushed a little further, the tightness of her giving way to his invading finger, his thumb finding and teasing the taut button of her clitoris. She moaned and pushed against him, her little hand stroking his cock with an innocent ineptness that was sensuality itself. He felt the thin membrane that screamed her innocence, and he desperately wanted to take it, to take her and make her only his.

It was tempting, tantalizing almost beyond what he was capable of resisting.

Her hips thrust urgently against his hand, her thighs squeezing tightly around it, holding him to her in frantic need. She felt the tip of his cock. The tiny slit filled with the moisture of his passionate nature. Her thumb gathered that moisture, rubbing gently across the slit, over and over, until her fingers were slippery with it.

Her hand moved from his wrist, wrapping deeply into the thickness of his hair, pulling his face to hers to find his mouth. It was her first aggression in the game between men and women, and she followed it by thrusting her tongue into his mouth, finding and dueling with his own, wrenching a groan from him that she captured in her mouth. She felt wild and wicked, completely beyond herself in his arms. She wanted it to go on, the pleasure and joy, the aching need that had her behaving in a wanton manner completely against the teachings of her people. She wanted more of his touch, more of him there between her fingers. She wanted to kiss him as he had her, to touch him in the ways he had her. She wanted…more.

She growled at him.

The sound was low and rough, a sound of need and desire that sent flickers of ecstasy down his spine. She was teaching him, using the things he had taught her and improvising on her own in an attempt to find her own pleasure. She moved beneath him, her hand slipping off his cock and between his legs, finding and fondling the heavy sack that contained his essence. She squeezed gently, and her nails tickled in a manner that had him squirming in pleasure.

He moaned into her mouth as her hand left his body. He felt bereft without her tender touch until he felt the give of the material above his hand. She squirmed under him, her skirt falling away as the wrap came undone.

Then he was between her thighs, a slave to her innocent passion and tempting wiles. He couldn’t resist something they both seemed to want—no, need—so badly.

She felt him there, at her entrance, his cock feeling almost impossibly large against her wet lips. Her body squirmed, her thighs parting further to urge him forward.

Her eyes flew open when he suddenly stopped. Stopped kissing her, stopped moving against her, stopped caressing her. He gazed down at her with an expression of uncanny lust tempered with something softer in his compelling eyes. Her hands slid down his chest, her nails brushing against his nipples then over his stomach and down further. One slim-fingered hand reached between her legs to grasp his stiff shaft, trying to guide it into the waiting softness of her body.

“Are you sure?” His voice sounded strange even to him, a husky note, a rasp of a growl that matched the one she had given to him earlier.

She nodded, words deserting her in passion as she stared down at her hand that held his hardness. Her hips raised, her hand moved, stroking brazenly as she tried once more to engulf his hardness.

He moaned and leaned down, trapping her arm between their bodies so she couldn’t move. Even so, her fingers continued to caress him. They danced over his cock and made it twitch and jerk against her body.

“Tell me your name?” he growled, letting his tongue play and lap at her earlobe.

Her answer was a growl of her own, husky and wild, almost feral sounding as she dug her nails into the skin of his back.

He pushed forward, letting just the head of his cock slip inside of her, feeling her tight sheath give grudgingly for him. She moaned and tried to thrust her hips upward, but he easily contained her clumsy movements, using the weight of his body to hold her captive under him.

“Your name?” he growled again, this time biting down upon her earlobe in a quick nip.

“Danielle,” she moaned in frustration, pushing against him.

He gave of himself them, slowly thrusting until he could feel that thin barrier. He raised up on his elbows, looking into her eyes.

“Look at me, Danielle.”

He captured her with his gaze even, as he pulled away from her. With one quick thrust, he was through, buried deeply inside of her. Her muscles clench down at the odd feeling of his invasion in her body. She was so tight, so incredibly wet and hot around him. Her eyes were dilated, the huge pupils almost blocking the midnight-blue irises as she stared up at him. Her mouth was open, her lips swollen and red from his kisses. He held himself still, not wanting to hurt her further, letting her get used to the feel of him inside of her.

When she began to move, he groaned, looking down at the body beneath him. She was an unbelievable sight, her breasts firm and nipples tight in the morning sunlight. Her body seemed like pale cream, soft and tender, her stomach moving against his as she clumsily sought her pleasure and his own.

Her head was thrown back in the thick grass, her hair shining gold around her fair face. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dark and blind in her passion. She moved with purpose, driving him to thrust deep as her cries and moans sweetened the air around them. He kissed her, feeling her hands turn into claws on his back and dig in with tiny little half moons of pain as she came for the first time. Her muscles contracted, holding him in her, fisting around his shaft until he couldn’t hold back. He tried to pull from her, but her legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him just a little deeper.

The pleasure was amazing, the way he felt against her, inside of her, shocking and wild. Hot waves of joy flowed over her, starting from where they were joined. She groaned into his mouth, unknowingly digging into his back as ecstasy made her blind and deaf to all but what was happening to her body.

When it ebbed, but for tiny little waves that made her tremble, he was laying heavily over her, his head down against her ear, his breath stirring tiny little hairs to move and tickle her face. She felt him between her legs, the part of him that had caused her such pleasure still hard and buried deep while hot wetness seeped from around him.

Her mind flew. Thoughts of the pleasure she had felt, of how he had made her body come alive in his hands, warred with her conscience. She knew what she had done was unforgivable to her people. The things he had made her feel were wrong and only done by the loose woman or the widows who were without men to care for them. She had given him her innocence, the gift that she was supposed to give only to the mate her father promised her to. When it was found that her maidenhead no longer existed, she would be shamed and shunned by her people.

But she didn’t care.

He moved up on his elbows, taking some of his weight off of her. When he did, she wanted to cry out, to have him back against her again. He stroked the side of her face and pushed her hair off her cheek with a gentle touch that sent her senses soaring.

“Danielle.” His voice was still raspy. Before another sound could pass his lips, they both heard her name called in a frantic tone.

“Danielle!”

It was distant but growing closer.

“My father,” she gasped, pushing at him.

He let her slip away, watching her pull on her clothing and try to lace her tunic in a way that hid the rip.

“Come back to me tonight?”

“I…I don’t know.” She hesitated, wanting to do so but knowing what they had done was wrong. Even if it had felt right. It confused her, the push-pull feeling of her emotions, desire warring against morality.

“The wolf will be waiting for you, Danielle. He will be at the edge of your village.”

She looked up, hearing other voices besides her father’s. He had the village men searching the woods for her. “I have to go.”

He caught her hand, holding her still for just a moment before she could flee the clearing. “Please, Danielle. Come to me. Come when you hear my song.”

She nodded her fair head, smiling down at the picture he made, nude and languorous, laying in the grass at her feet. Then she felt one more soft kiss upon her palm, her hand being closed as if to save the touch as she turned to flee. She reached the edge of the clearing and turned into the path, almost screaming when she ran straight into the broad chest of her dark father.

He took her home, alternating between scolding and hugging her. He believed her story of being turned around in the shadows of the night and losing her way even though she knew every inch of that forest, every tree and bush. A kiss on his cheek, a smile that shone in his heart and she was forgiven.

Her mother glanced askance at Danielle’s ragged shift and torn tunic, staring at her in a way that told her she wasn’t believed when she said she had fallen into a thicket and ripped the material. But Danielle’s mother, too, trusted her daughter, and she cuddled and scolded her for the fright she had given.

Both of her parents forbade her to enter the forest again for a few nights, to calm their parental fears. She panicked, wondering if Lukas would wait, if he would still want her. She felt his lips upon her palm and the lingering memory of the things they had done together that morning.

Even now, as she stood in the open doorway at the back of her parents’ tiny hut, watching the second moon rise and shine through the dark forest across the river, she wondered if he waited for her.

A tear glistened on the tips of her lashes then fell silently to the floor, unnoticed, as she listened to the plaintive, mournful song of the wolf calling to her from the edge of the trees.