by Stone, Wendy
When the last man walked out the door and Jeffrey arrived with platters of food covered by silver domes, she walked toward Nathaniel, her blue gaze riveted to his amber one. She barely saw Jeffrey as he set up a small table, placing their food upon it, bowing quickly to Nathaniel before leaving and closing the door behind himself.
He helped her from her robe before dropping his and stepping into the steaming water with a soft growl. "I don't know if this is the best idea, I take forever to dry," he said, laughing when she did.
"Just promise me you won't shake. I had a dog that used to do that every time I gave him a bath," she said, smiling down at him and took his hand to help get into the high sided tub. "Are you comparing me to a dog, lady?" he growled. "Well," she said slowly, smiling. "I haven't seen your tail yet, but…" She squealed when he grabbed her, yanking her to him, his wet fur sticking to her skin as if to keep her next to him. She floated lightly in the water, her body brushing against his as his mouth found hers.
When he'd kissed her senseless, his lifted his lips slowly. "Can a dog do that?" he asked her smugly.
Melissa snuggled against him, her hair dragging in the water at her back. "I've never let one try, thank you," she answered him primly. "But you may do that whenever you wish."
"Ah, I love carte blanche," he whispered, nuzzling her ear and then her neck. "But you might be asking for trouble now. You must be sore, Melissa."
"A little," she admitted, leaning up to plant a kiss upon his lips. "I'm more hungry than sore, though."
He turned her so that her back was to him and grabbed the cloth that Jeffrey had left and the large scrub brush he used when he bathed. He used the cloth to soap up then, starting at her neck, rubbed it across her skin gently, slowly bathing her. She moaned, shifting under the cloth as he roamed over her breasts, lifting each lush mound and circling around her nipple, teasing her with tantalizing touches of his hand.
He cleaned her thoroughly, the cloth slipping into the water as his fingers explored the soft folds of flesh between her thighs, doing much more than washing. He brought her to her peak quickly, her soft cries and moans filling the air as much as the steam that drifted from the top of the water.
Afterwards, she leaned against him, her breathing ragged, listening to the racing of his heart. "Y-you haven't…" she asked him, her voice trembling, feeling the hardness of his cock against her back.
"No. You're sore, Melissa. I may look like an animal, but inside I'm a man. I can control myself," he said, stressing the word and making her laugh.
"Of that I have no doubts, Nathaniel." She roused herself enough to duck her head back, wetting her hair. Taking the soap in her hands she started to work up a lather, startled when she felt him take the bar from her.
"Let me? Please?" he asked, gazing into her soft green eyes as she turned to face him in surprise.
"Yes," she said, smiling before turning away, holding onto the sides of the tub as his hands gathered her wet tresses, and, starting at her scalp and working his way down, he lathered them gently, his fingers rubbing against her. It felt wonderful, his long, lean fingers rubbing into her scalp, and then lower.
She sighed when he reached for one of the steaming buckets, checking the temperature of the water before carefully pouring it over her hair. When it was rinsed clean, he helped her gather it up, wringing the excess water out and then wrapping it in a towel around her head.
She turned, smiling at him, mischievously. "Your turn," she said, reachingalongside the tub for the huge scrub brush. "You don't have to…" "I want to, Nathaniel. It would please me to be able to please you," she said, her smile widening. "Besides," she said, "I refuse to sleep next to anything that smells like an old bear rug."
His mouth dropped at her comparison, his eyes growing wide. "A-a bear rug!" he roared. "I'll have you know that I don't…" His lips clamped down as she burst out into peals of laughter.
Nathaniel's eyes narrowed, his teeth clicked together in his mouth. He growled at her, his lips parting and his fangs showing. The snarl that came next should have scared her silly, but instead, she moved between his legs, going up on her knees in the tub to wrap her arms around his neck and to press her lips against his. Ignoring the mock snarl, she wound her fingers in his damp fur, pressing her body against him.
"I'm sorry, Nathaniel. You don't smell like a bear rug. I like the way you smell," she whispered against his lips, feeling him relax once more, his big hand molding her to his body. "Can I scrub your back? Please?"
He nodded, moving forward, his eyes never leaving her as she moved to sit behind him on the edge of the tub. Taking the brush and the soap, he worked up a big head of lather and then handed her the brush.
She scrubbed his back, hearing his moans when she found a spot he particularly enjoyed having scratched. She did his arms next and then climbed down to the end of the tub and pulled his large feet and long legs out of the murky water, washing his feet with her hands and then his legs with the brush. Then she slid up his legs, holding up the scrub brush and cocking her eyebrow at him.
"Just watch what you scrub with that thing," he said, his hand dropping into the water and going down to his cock, covering the sensitive flesh.
She laughed, scrubbing across his chest and stomach, laughing more as he squirmed under her, ticklish. When they were through with their play, more water was outside the tub than in and it was cold, the buckets emptied.
She helped him dry off, taking one towel off the big pile for herself and using the rest on his large body, until, finally, they both sat on one of the big chairs pulled up to the table, each wearing one of his robes. She brushed his drying hair back from his face and leaned up to kiss him before turning to the plates of food that Jeffrey brought in.
Lifting the domed lids, she stared at the difference in the food that was on the plates. Her plate held a slice of venison, covered in a sauce made with juniper berries and mushrooms. His held a jumble of meat, barely cooked, in some kind of sauce, the smell of which made her rear her head back in disgust. "What is this?" she asked him. "I know it looks disgusting, but Jeffrey assured me it's what I should be eating to keep up my strength. He uses some kind of herbs to help with my changing needs when I am the beast." He ducked his head, nuzzling his face into her neck. "You smell much better than that does. Maybe I should make you my dinner," he said, nipping at her skin and listening to her squeal.
"Stop that," she laughed. "You can't eat this. It looks awful." She slipped the dome back on the food, shoving it back across the table. "You can share mine."
She carefully cut the meat on her plate, holding her fork up to his lips where he looked at it dourly for a moment before dutifully opening his mouth and letting her slide it inside. He smiled as he chewed, enjoying the sweet taste of the meat, and the care with which she was taking care of him. If anyone had asked him, he couldn't remember ever being as happy as he was at that moment.
After they finished the food on her plate and the apples that she'd taken from the tray earlier, she took the towel off of her head and used his brush on her hair, sitting in front of the fire to help it dry.
"Would you read this to me?" he asked her, holding out the missive sent by his uncle. The man was his last living relative, unmarried and worried constantly about Nathaniel's health, checking up on him weekly. His letters were usually short, inquiring about his needs and about the state of his affairs.
Jeffrey usually read them to him and wrote his replies, shipping them off by messenger back to London where his uncle lived. But now that Melissa was with him that would be one duty that he could relieve Jeffrey of and ease the poor man's burden.
Melissa sat on Nathaniel's lap, feeling his hands playing with the tie of her robe while she read the short note. It was as he thought, asking of his health and his welfare, telling him of the state of his properties and a little of the gossip of that influential city. He ended it as he always did, with a wish for his nephew's health and a longing for his return. "He sounds l
ike a sober man," Melissa said, relaxing against him. "He always was, for he worried about my father, and then about me and my mother." Nathaniel yawned widely, his hand covering his mouth. He kissed Melissa's fabric covered shoulder and set her on her feet.
"Come, you've worn me out today with your demands for my body, little one," he said grinning down at her as she narrowed her eyes at him.
She took his hand and led him to the bed, blowing out the candles they had lit along the way until only one remained. He slipped the knot from her robe, allowing her to do the same to him, then lifted her in his arms, laying her gently upon the large mattress. Blowing out that last candle, he climbed into the bed with her, pulling the covers up around them, and feeeling her curl up into him, her head upon his shoulder. He buried his face in her hair, breathing in her sweet scent, and fell asleep listening to the sound of her heart beating. * * * * Garren stretched, looking longingly at his own bed for a moment. But he decided to go on, for the answer had to be in the book somewhere. Otherwise, why would his mother have so desperately wanted him to read it? He rose for a moment, standing in front of the open window and letting the bitterly cold air from outside blow over his body. The moon was full, shining on the snow that thickly covered the lawn, making it appear brighter outside than it was.
Christmas was but weeks away. It would be wonderful if he could give Brenna the one gift that she truly wanted, the one gift that he truly wanted to give her, himself as a whole and healthy man, capable of standing by her side. This year, he truly wanted to be involved in the festivities, not just hear about them from Brenna when she returned home from the neighborhood parities and dances. He wanted to see the lights and the decorations, go to the parties, and meet his neighbors as a man, not as a pretense.
He stared up at the brightness of the full moon, his heart wanting to break with the agony of the hope that he was refusing to allow to sway his thoughts. But he couldn't resist sending one heartfelt plea, one prayer to the God that he'd always cursed.
"I don't know if you're up there. I don't even know if you listen when someone prays to you. But if you do, God, please, for Brenna and the love that we could have together, please let there be an antidote or a cure to this curse. Let me be a man worthy to call her my own. I ask for nothing more than a way to make her happy." He let his head rest against the window frame for a moment, just waiting to see if there would be some sign, wishing that God would send him something to let him know that things would work out.
But there was nothing. With a sigh, and after throwing more wood upon the fire, he went back to the chair and lifted the book into his hands once again. "It was well past…" * * * * …midnight, and all was silent in the old house. Melissa woke, feeling the bed shake under her. She sat up, staring blindly around the darkened room."Nathaniel?"
"God, Melissa, help me," he growled from beside her. She leaned across him, grabbing the candle from the table and lighting it with a match from the drawer before looking at him. He was a horrid sight, his hair mussed, his body contorted in pain. "My God, Nathaniel, what is it?" "The change," he growled. "But it is too soon, it shouldn't happen yet for another three nights." He snarled at her suddenly, his hands grabbing his stomach as the pain seemed to blossom there, growing until it was almost unbearable.
"What can I do?" she asked her hands out to touch him, but she was afraid. Not of him, but of hurting him, for she knew he would tear off his arms before wounding her in any way.
He rolled suddenly, his face burying in the softness of her stomach, his hands grabbing her around her hips. "Don't go away," he moaned. "Don't leave me alone."
"I'm not going anywhere," she insisted, running her hands over his head, holding him and rocking slowly. "I'm right here."
She could feel his mouth open against her skin, felt his teeth scrape against her flesh, but once more he didn't bite her. His body convulsed, his skin grew hot under her hand, almost as if he were fevered. She could do nothing but hold him and pray, rocking against him and begging God silently to make it end.
It took almost an hour, an hour of agony for Nathaniel and terror for Melissa as she held him. His face contorting, his muscles seeming to move, bones creaking as his body changed shape slowly. He began to sweat and to cry out more and more, unrecognizable sounds leaving his lips as his body changed from beast to man.
As suddenly as it started, it ended. He lay quietly in her arms, his skin gleaming in the light of the candle. His shoulders were still broad and muscled, though not quite as big as the beast's. His neck was strong, his hair, black and curly, lay like wet satin against his neck and down his back.
He lay so still that Melissa was afraid. Had the pain killed him? "Nathaniel?" she murmured quietly.
For a moment he didn't move, then he slowly looked up at her, his eyes uncertain as if afraid of what she would think of him now that he was a man.
Melissa was stunned. She'd known he would be handsome, but she hadn't expected the face that looked up at her. His skin was clear, although his cheeks were flushed from the pain. His forehead was broad and smooth, his brows black slashes against his pale skin. His eyes were a soft amber color, framed by exquisitely long and thick lashes that any girl would be jealous of. He had high cheekbones and a long, thin nose. His mouth was wide and generous, his lower lip full. He had a square jaw that right now was firmly set, as if he expected her to turn from him.
"Are you all right?" she asked him gently, her hand reaching out to touch his smooth skin. Smooth it was, without even the hint of whiskers that would normally darken a man's jaw at this time of day. "I feel tired and sore, but those are usual after effects of the change,"
he said. Melissa started. His voice was soft but deep with a soft accent she found hard to place. It was nothing like what she'd grown used to, no growl or snarl, just a genteel timber that she felt to her toes.
"Well?" he asked, pulling away from her and seeing the red marks upon her stomach, made by the scraping of the beast's teeth as he tried to keep from screaming at the pain. "I hurt you," he said, his hand touching the marks gently.
"No, they don't hurt. You didn't even break the skin, Nathaniel." She stared at him a moment more before tipping her head to the side. "You can see me also now, can you not?"
"Yes," he agreed, his amber eyes softening as they touched on every part of her. "You are so beautiful, Melissa. I thought you such in the eyes of a beast, but in my eyes, you are exquisite." She smiled, one of such radiance that it made him blink. "But the change came three days early. It has never done this before. It is the same every month. I change and then exactly seven days later, I change back. It hasn't varied in any of the time since I turned twenty-one, six years ago." He pushed his large hand, his human hand, through his hair, shoving it off of his forehead.
Melissa couldn't stop staring at him. He was as beautiful as the picture had portrayed him, even more so lying beside her naked. His chest was full and as firmly muscled as before, but the skin was satiny smooth, his male nipples were oval shaped tan disks. She found her fingers itching to touch him like this. She wanted to explore the differences, the size and shape of his body from one formto the other. Oh my, would his…his thing have changed size? "Melissa? Have you heard a word I've said?" Her gaze lifted from the blanket covering his groin and she flushed bright red, staring into his knowing amber eyes. His smile grew from a twist of his full lips to a big grin and he reached out his hand, playing with the ends of her hair.
"Uh," she said, embarrassed. "I was thinking about other things, Nathaniel, I'm sorry. What were you saying?"
"Oh no, I think we should talk about those other things you were thinking about," he said, twining a length of her blonde hair around his wrist and pulling her… * * * * "…closer. Ahh," Garren growled, shutting the book. "If I read about one more orgasmic feast I shall go mad." He rose, dropping the book next to his bed. He sat on the side of the ancient piece of furniture, knowing now that it was the same one as was in the book. "The change came three d
ays early, but they didn't know why. And my mother almost changed, but it stopped." He threw himself backwards on the bed, cursing the book, cursing his unruly cock that was still hard and throbbing, cursing his parents while he laid there, grinding the palms of his hands against his eyes. "I have to think. There has to be a clue." The voice startled him, coming out of the dark near the door. "A clue to what?"
Chapter Six
Garren sat up quickly, pulling his robe across his lap from where it had fallen open when he'd thrown himself on the bed. "What are you doing here?" he asked her, his voice sharp.
"I couldn't sleep. I thought maybe we could…talk," she said quietly, staring down at her folded hands. "So, what did you mean by a clue? A clue to what?"
"A clue to understanding the minds of women," he snarled. "What else?"
"If it is that difficult," she said, her shoulders stiffening and her back straightening, "don't bother on my account." She turned, ready to storm from the room.
Garren watched her, knowing he should just let her go, but he couldn't. He couldn't let her hate him. "Wait," he called as her hand touched the door of his bedchamber. "What?" she said, not turning around. Before she could move he was there, with the speed of the beast, silent with the grace of the great predators, his hands coming to rest on her shoulders holding her gently.
"Don't leave yet," he whispered, coming up behind her and letting his body press up against hers for just an instant. He wanted to groan from the way she felt, soft and rounded, her body pressing against his, her head on his shoulder. "Why?" she managed to whisper. "Because I don't want you to go," he said quickly, letting his hands slide down her arms, running them with a tender touch over her long, slender fingers before twining around them. He held her there with just the light touch of his palms against her own, the sensation of his fur brushing between her fingers, and nothing more.