The Werewolf Boss’s Baby

by T. S. Ryder

  “Yeah, he didn’t know,” he says.

  “How are you now?” Harrod asks.

  “I’m fine. I still have the stomach bug.”

  “I was worried about you,” he says. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  As we step out of the plane, I ask, “So, where are we? Your father’s secret science facility?”

  “Something like that,” he says.

  It’s a 15-minute walk into a fenced community, a village of sorts. Harrod introduces me to his Grandpa and a woman called Mishayev. ‘Misha is my teacher here,’ he tells me.

  “What does she teach you? What are you here for, secret service training?”

  “No. I’ll tell you later.”

  “No, you said you’ll tell me when we are together, I can’t wait anymore. Tell me what took you away from me.”

  I perch on an ottoman in what appears to be a common room, and Harrod gets on behind me, legs and arms around me. It feels safe inside his arms.

  “I need to warn you first and prepare you. This shit is crazy.”

  “Whatever it is, tell me. Go ahead, I can take it. Can’t be crazier than everything else that has happened, with me coming out to the middle of nowhere to be with a guy I only had one date with.”

  “But—”

  “No buts,” I say, cutting him off. “Tell me now.”

  “Harrison, do the honors, will you?”

  What happens next is, simply put, crazy. I should have freaked out, I should have, but I don’t. I am inside his arms, I am safe. I know that no harm will come to me. But it takes my breath away anyway.

  “So, your brother is a shape-shifter,” I say, letting out a long breath.

  “Not a shape-shifter,” he says, rubbing my arm, turning me on. “A werewolf.”

  “And you?”

  “Me too. Everyone here is.”

  “And your dad knows about this?”

  “He’s one too. Like I said, Siobhan, we all are. Except my mother.”

  “Oh.”

  “I think that’s probably why my dad sent you here, so you could find out before things get serious.”

  “Before things get serious, Harrod, seriously? We still have a before?”

  “I mean, you know, so you can get out while you can.”

  “So if I want to get out, you won’t stop me?”

  “If this is too much for you, why would I?”

  “So you’d let me go just like that,” I say, slightly angry.

  “I’d try like hell to stop you, but I won’t force you.”

  “I’m cool with it,” I say. “Growing up in a political family, I’ve seen stuff way more messed up than this. Nothing like this, but still. I think I can get used to this. But I sure as hell won’t be living here forever.”

  “Neither will I,” he says. “But we’ll have to come here every full moon. I’ll have to.”

  Then I ask him something really stupid, something a child would ask. “Can you turn me into a werewolf?”

  “With a bite, yes.”

  “Cool,” she says. “Do it. Bite me.”

  “It doesn’t work like that,” he tells me. “Only an Alpha’s bite can do that, and I am not an Alpha yet.”

  “Get the Alpha to bite me then.”

  “Six days from now, I have to face my brother in The Pit. If I can beat him there, I’ll become the Alpha. We’ll think about it then. But I can’t wait to bite you in other circumstances.” His hand finds its way into my shirt and around my stomach. He turns me around, rubs my back and kisses me again.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he says.

  “I missed you, too,” I say.

  I close my eyes and draw in a long breath, taking in his masculine smell, his intoxicating juniper cologne. He pushes me down on the ottoman and tries to get on top.

  “Not here,” I whisper.

  “They don’t mind.”

  “I’m shy.”

  “Okay,” he says, kissing me again. “You should go rest, anyway. You must be tired. Mishayev will show you to our room.”

  “Okay.” I give him a quick kiss and leave with Mishayev.

  She takes me to Harrod’s room, which is a mess, as can be expected.

  “You will get cold. Let me bring you some fur.”

  “Thank you.”

  She comes back ten minutes later, carrying three different colored fur coats.

  “Wow, these are real,” I say, feeling the soft fur, trying one out. “These are so warm and light.”

  “Yeah, these are real.”

  “Thank you,” I repeat.

  She smiles, then looks at me strangely.

  “What is it,” I ask.

  “You love him?”

  “I guess…yeah.”

  She smiles. “He’s a good guy. Training here is hard, coming to terms with everything, but he’s patient. He’s doing it all very well. He’s a keeper. Don’t break his heart.”

  “I won’t,” I promise, hand over my heart.

  “If you need anything or have any questions, you can come to me,” she says, and turns to leave.

  “Misha,” I say, “I can call you that, right?”

  “Call me whatever you want,” she says.

  “I wanted to ask you something,”

  “What is it?”

  “Is there a doctor here?”

  “We have an infirmary. It has all the modern equipment and our doctors are great. But don’t go there alone.”

  “Okay,” I say.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, concerned.

  “I’m fine. I was just curious.”

  “Right. You should rest now, and I’ll wake you up for dinner.”

  Chapter Eleven - The First Snow, The Good Tidings

  Siobhan

  Mishayev wakes me up late in the evening.

  “Put on your coat,” she says. “It’s going to be freezing tonight.”

  “As if it isn’t already,” I reply, shivering in my skin.

  When I step out, I see the snow falling softly, slowly, mixing with the dark mud. It compliments it, makes it look nicer, somehow serene. The sun is setting in the distance, and although we can’t see it from here, the snowflakes gathered on the ground are bathed in a soft orange light.

  “It’s a good omen,” Misha says.

  “Snowfall? People hate snow where I come from, but then it never looks this beautiful.”

  “We have a saying among our pack, passed down the generations. It says visitors bring the weather with them, and if they bring snow, it means they bring good luck. You have brought us glad tidings.”

  “What tidings?” I ask, as we step outside. A gentle gust of wind hits me, getting under my fur coat through the sleeves, freezing me to the bone. I remove my hands from the sleeves and wrap it around me like a shawl, blocking the wind as best as I can.

  “It is not always known right away,” she says. “But they come out soon. Here, at least.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Keeping good news to yourself is considered a sacrilege here. There is a lot of misery out there in the world, and when the Almighty sends his blessings, they should be shared and spread. What’s his to share is not yours to conceal.”

  “Do you believe in God?” I ask, hoping she says no.

  I don’t want to get tangled with this sort of thing. What if Harrod asks me to convert to his religion or something? I would never be up for that. I make a mental note to get these issues out of the way before telling him I’m pregnant. That is, if I tell him I’m pregnant. I’m having second thoughts now. In the safety of his arms, under his warmth and scent, I felt safe. I wasn’t shocked by what I saw. Maybe it was because I was too tired to react, too hormonal to give a hoot. But reality is sinking in now and I’m starting to feel creeped out.

  “No,” she says. “We don’t worship beings like that.”

  “Then what do you mean by Almighty?”

  “You can use whichever word you want for it. It’s just a word, at the end
of the day. We believe in a higher power, but we don’t know how or what that power is. The teachings have been handed down from generation to generation to spread goodness and tolerance. Our focus is not on the being but on the teachings. What harm does that do? We don’t differentiate or label people or treat them differently for what they are.”

  “As in?”

  “In the other packs, Harrod and Harrison would be half-bloods. They wouldn’t be allowed to become Alpha, ever. You wouldn’t be allowed to marry or breed with Harrod; it would be an abomination. The other packs are harsh, divided. We aren’t. It’s the teachings that keep us grounded and strong. We don’t treat you as different, even though you are an anomaly in our world. To us, you are a person. If it were some other pack, you’d have been killed.”

  “Misha,” I say, inspired by her motherly tone, or perhaps guilt-trapped. “I do bring tidings, but I am not sure if they are good or bad. I wanted to talk to Harrod first before I told anyone.”

  “Shh,” she says, one finger on her dark lips. “Don’t speak of it until you are ready. The wind does not keep secrets.” She puts a cigarette in her mouth and lights it. “I’d offer you one, but…” She pauses mid-sentence and gives me a knowing smile.

  “It’s fine, I don’t smoke anyway.”

  “He’ll be happy,” she says. “I won’t force you to tell him, but don’t hold it in for too long.”

  Chapter Twelve - When the Reality Sinks In

  Harrod

  When I return from my training with Harrod and Grandpa, I find Siobhan sauntering in the woods with Mishayev, away from the cabins, her expression serious.

  “Is she bothering you?” I ask, pointing towards Misha with my finger.

  “No, she has been educating me,” Siobhan says.

  “What if I am bothering her?” Mishayev says. “I could rip your throat before you could bat an eye.”

  “Try me,” I say.

  “Don’t do anything, please, stop,” Siobhan pleads in a panic.

  “We’re joking,” I say. “Misha and I banter a lot.”

  “I’ll leave you two alone,” Mishayev says, nodding. As she walks back to the cabins, she flicks out her cigarette and puts it out with her foot.

  “Finally I have you to myself,” I say, reaching for her hand.

  “Finally,” she says, with mock excitement.

  “You look worried,” I say. “What’s wrong?”

  “Harrod, I don’t know. I think I’m confused. So much has happened so fast, so much is happening.”

  “I know, believe me, I do. I found this out when I came here, and trust me, I was freaked out way more than you are. But living with them, it’s not too different. They are just people. The shifting can be terrifying, though.”

  “No, I am just worried about the other thing,” she says.

  “What thing?”

  “Oh, nothing. Don’t mind me, I’m just rambling.”

  “Siobhan, what are you not telling me?”

  “Nothing, let it go.”

  “Tell me, come on.”

  “I am just…”

  “What?”

  “I am just a little freaked out.”

  “About what?”

  “About us, about the future, about everything.”

  “We’ll take it in a stride, don’t you worry about it.”

  We walk to the lake. I brush off the fresh snow from a boulder and we sit on it. The wind rustles her hair and I push a stray strand away from her face.

  “Harrod,” she says.

  “Yeah?”

  “Don’t freak out if this sounds weird, but I have to let it out.”

  “What is it?”

  “I don’t know how to do this. I’ve never dated anyone before.”

  “I think I could tell that you hadn’t. Ask away.”

  “Do you think you want to get married? Not right now, but in the future, maybe?”

  “I never thought about it seriously until I met you. And if it is you, then I think yeah, I would want to marry. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, making you happy.”

  “What about having kids?”

  “Never thought about it. It would be cool, I suppose. Dad would be very happy, though,” I say. “Would you be okay with marrying a werewolf? What do you think about marriage?”

  “I think I am past all that. I always knew I would marry, so yeah. But don’t feel any pressure.”

  “I’ll be the Alpha soon. I don’t feel any pressure other than having to fight against my own brother.”

  “Don’t fight your own brother,” she says.

  “I have no choice. I’m a half-breed here. I have to prove that I have what it takes.”

  Chapter Thirteen – Love by the Lake

  Siobhan

  “I’m cold,” I say. Instead of helping me or giving me his coat, Harrod takes my coat off and lays it on the boulder we are sitting on.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Trying to heat you up,” he says, taking off his own coat and piling it over mine. “Lie down,” he says.

  I lie on my back on the fur coats and look at the sky, at the dark clouds. Harrod lies down next to me, his arm under my head; his other hand is across my chest, stroking my side. We both shift our gazes to the sky, the snow flurrying in our faces. My face starts getting cold, and I can picture my cheeks getting red. My teeth start chattering until he puts his warm mouth over them. His tongue pushes into my mouth, hot with lust. The kiss feels different, more aggressive somehow. I wonder if that’s the wolf in him.

  The night smells like thorn bushes and fresh snow. He kisses me on the side of my lips, smells my perfume and licks my cheek. He unbuttons my shirt and exposes my breasts to the cold winds.

  “God, I love your tits,” he whispers in my ear, before his tongue moistens it. My breasts are slightly swollen and larger than before, tender. He grabs one and licks the other, twisting my nipple hard.

  “Be gentle, Harry. It hurts.”

  “I have wanted you so badly. I can’t wait to fuck you in every hole. Please don’t stop me.”

  As the memories of our first encounter rushes back into my mind, I am overcome with a desire to have him inside me. I want the pain that brings me closer to him, that connects us, that makes us one. I try to get up and unbutton his shirt, but he continues working on my tits and tosses his shirt off. He is paying extra attention to my swollen boobs, but I hope he doesn’t find out the reason why they’re bigger until I tell him. His body feels warm against my hands, and I rub them on his hard muscles, drawing the heat. He embraces me tightly, pushing his groin against me, and I can feel his hardness. I can feel how hard he is for me, the hot rod ready to explode lava inside me. He licks my body and goes lower, literally ripping my skirt in two with his bare hands.

  He smells me down there, his nose pressing into the soft flesh. His kisses near my pussy get intense and then his tongue pushes inside me. He starts getting frantic, feeling me up, touching me, turning into a primal, wild being. He spits on his finger and pushes it up into my ass. A small moan escapes my lips, but he doesn’t move the finger until I get used to it. Then he pushes another, and then another. His tongue makes love to my pussy while his fingers take me from behind, preparing me.

  I get up and jump off the boulder, my naked body bombarded with tiny flecks of snow. He stands up on the boulder; he looks savage. Looking back I remember what he used to look like only three weeks ago. He has changed somehow. His muscles are more defined, his body more muscular and hairy. He lets out a long howl and his body changes. Misha told me that their eyes turn yellow when they transform into a wolf, but his eyes are red and glowing. He gains mass in front of my eyes, his legs slightly bent, like a wolf on its feet. He’s half-wolf and half-man right now. Compared to what I can see right now, he used to be a boy. Now he’s a damned wolverine. His nails have turned into claws. As my gaze is drawn to his manhood, I realize he has gained another inch at the very least. He’s easily 8.5 or 9 inches righ
t now: thick, hard, and erect. I don’t think I can take him.

  As I am about to voice my doubts, he jumps down and holds my face in his hands, forcing me to look at him. It’s the same face, only his eyes are red, powerful. I know without anyone telling me that this is what an Alpha looks like.

  I get on my toes to reach his lips, my arms around his neck. He kisses me softly, then pushes my head down to his manhood.

  “Suck it. Take it in,” he commands in an animal voice.

  I oblige, but it doesn’t go in any farther than it did last time. I look up into his glowing red eyes, and I see the desire that is burning inside him. He pushes back his hips, holding my head, and then jerks forward, pushing all the way into my throat. My nose is in his pubes and I can smell his cologne again, mixed with the sweaty muscular scent. I cup his heavy balls in my hands as he bangs my mouth. When he pulls out, I can see the glowing, silvery pre-cum oozing out of his glans.

  I know what he wants and I’m ready to give it to him. I get back up on the boulder and lie down. He pulls me by the legs and brings my crotch close to his raging hard-on. I raise my legs and rest them on his shoulders, as he slides inside me with one strong thrust. No lubrication, this time. My juices are already flowing for him. He pulls out all the way and forces it back inside. His length fills me. He grabs my boobs tightly with the hands of an Alpha, letting me know that I am his property now, part of his pack, and starts — there’s no other way to put it — fucking me hard with my legs in the air. My moans are in sync with his grunts, his pubes scratching my shaved pussy each time he buries himself inside me. His grip on me tightens and I am pinned on the fur coats as he comes close to release. I can’t even move, but I raise my head to see his face. He’s almost drooling, his desires flowing down in tiny drops as he drills me like a machine.

  His grunts turn into moans of pleasure as he shoots his load inside me. I can feel his hot honey filling me up slowly, shooting not one, not two, not three or four, but five huge loads inside me. He doesn’t stop even after he comes. He’s panting, but still shagging me, slower now. He collapses on top of me without pulling out.