The Horror of our Love: A Twisted Tales Anthology

by Nikita Slater

  Hawes stalked up to his father and grabbed him by the scruff, yanking him up off the floor. “What makes you think I can’t fuck her here? The Hunter’s Blood Moon is the Hunter’s Blood Moon in every realm.”

  He released Nordil and stalked towards Grace, intent in his eyes.

  “Uh, no.” Grace said as she shifted closer to the wall. “Not in front of your dad. And also, this collar will make it impossible. It might break my neck, especially if things get too rowdy.”

  Hawes stopped, stared down at her, undecided. Then turned to his father. “Unleash her now!” he roared.

  Nordil whimpered and tucked his tail between his legs as he backed away from the fury that was his son. But he stayed his ground. “I will not, Hawes. You are ill-prepared for the consequences.”

  Hawes stalked up to the dog. “I will kill you, old man.”

  Grace groaned, her nipples harder than they’d ever been, throbbing painfully. Her pussy, hot, wet, aching. He could fuck her here. She didn’t care if he broke her neck. She needed release. “Hawes,” she cried. “Help me!”

  “Look away, Grace,” he said, but she didn’t. He shifted to his wolf. It was a ripple of air or time or dimension or something. One minute a man and then a shedding of the skin starting from the head down through to the feet. A peeling of the outer to reveal the inner. It was magical, awe-inspiring and unbelievably fucking hot! If she could have, Grace would have come in her panties.

  Hawes was magnificent in his wolf form. A grey wolf, with patches of white, standing on his feet, claws and canines extended. Power rippling through him. He turned to Nordil and swiped at him with his paw. Nordil’s body sailed across the room and smashed into the solid stone wall. But to his credit, he jumped to his feet and launched himself at Hawes taking him down to the floor. There was nothing but loud growls, barks and tufts of fur flying. Punches, scratches, bites. Grace groaned as she watched, her body undulating with the tempo of the fight. So fucking hot, so motherfucking erotic. Then Hawes threw Nordil at the wall again, this time with all his power. Nordil bounced off the wall and landed with a thud on the floor. He lay there unmoving.

  Hawes swung towards Grace, his wolf still stimulated, his hackles still up. He padded to her and wrapped his powerful jaws around the collar, prying it from Grace’s neck. His fangs grazed her neck, puncturing it and the pain seared straight through to her pussy. She moaned. “I don’t think I can take much more of this, Hawes. Why didn’t you just take the fucking collar off me in the first place.?”

  He pulled her into his arms and stood up, cradling her body close to his furry chest. Tenderly, almost as if he cared about her as a woman, not just as his mate.

  “I couldn’t have done it while Nordil was sentient. Even in wolf form. He’s too powerful.”

  “So he’s dead?” Grace whispered as she stroked his wolf’s chest, tweaking a nipple.

  He bucked under her pinch. “He’s not. I can’t kill him. It’s irrelevant. We’ve got to get to our dimension before the Hunter’s Blood Moon wanes.” He started running, bouncing Grace in his arms, not gentle, but she was getting used to being ill-used.

  “Doesn’t that happen tomorrow?” she said, her fingers tangled into his fur to keep herself from slipping.

  “It is tomorrow. Time gets skewed between dimensions. We have an hour to consummate or the window will close and we’ll have to wait a year.”

  Grace groaned as desire rippled through her. “I don’t think I can wait a year, Hawes. It’s okay if we do it here.”

  “It’s not,” he growled. “I don’t want our child conceived in this hellish realm. “I want his first moment of life to take place in the open, under the moon.”

  Grace thought that beautiful, so said nothing. Just clung and tried not to moan loudly. The path they were on spiralled upward and he climbed through dark clouds and mist until he came to a fork, at which point he turned left. Then they were in a cave, Hawes still running, then stumbling out, the forest closing around them, the mouth of the cave disappearing. He ran to a clearing and threw Grace to the ground, ripping off her clothes. She leaned up on her elbows and stared at him, her yearning for him overwhelming him. “Please tell me you’re not going to fuck me in your wolf form.” Although if he said yes, she would have likely come there and then.

  “No,” he said as he leaned over her, his muzzle close to her neck. Then the air rippled and Hawes in human form was bending over her, his mouth dropping on hers, sucking the breath from her. His kiss searing her down to her toes.

  “Oh my fucking god, Hawes! I need you inside me now!”

  Hawes’ erection was solid against her leg and she opened her legs to him, urging him to enter her. He bit her neck as he fisted her hair, then pulled her head back so he could stare into her eyes. “Do you understand that this will hurt. The spilling of first blood should not be savage like this. You should have time to recover after I’ve entered you.”

  Grace bucked her body. “It’s a fleeting pain from what I’ve read. It’s not a big deal.”

  Hawes shook his head. “This is different. It’s different for wolves and will be different for you as my Alpha mate.”

  Grace couldn’t stand it. “Do it, Hawes!”

  And so he did. He entered swiftly, savagely and he was right. The pain tore through her, wild, ferocious, searing. She screamed. And he stilled, fully inside her, watching her face as tears flowed from her eyes. Her pussy throbbed around his cock, the pain ebbing and flowing. “Why won’t it stop?” she asked tearfully.

  “It will. Once I’ve come. My seed will bathe your walls and fortify them. You will never have this pain again.” He was breathless, impatient. His cock seemed to grow bigger inside her aching cunt as he loomed over her.

  “Just do it, then,” she moaned.

  But he didn’t. He pulled out of her and the pain diminished, replaced again by unrelenting desire that grew in leagues as Hawes dropped his head between her thighs and his tongue between her folds, kissing, licking, nibbling. Bringing her high back, a painful awareness of how pent up she was, how high she was. His touch was electric, overriding her senses. His fingers roved over her as his mouth pleasured her. She was so close. “Please, Hawes,” she moaned.

  “You will come with me. It will ensure the seed is planted.” He flipped her on her belly and brought her to her knees. Then he entered again, as swift as the first time, and this time he didn’t stop to let her adjust to his size, to the pain. He thrust hard, slamming into her, his fingers on her cunt, strumming her clit. Her passion was winning over the pain and he was taking her higher, every moment of her life wrapping itself around her ascent. The kisses from boys that never went anywhere, her frustration when she couldn’t masturbate herself to orgasm. The women she’d kissed. Those moments where her eyes raked a handsome man, her belly twisted in desire, but his touch repelled her.

  It exploded inside her wiping out the pain, wiping out the death of Eric, wiping out the last two days. She was rippling with the force, her pussy tightening around his engorged cock, then him coming, howling, his seed bathing her womb, her walls. But it didn’t stop the yearning. For a moment she was sated and then it welled up in her again. “Again Hawes,” she cried out. “Fuck me again.”

  He flipped her on her back and kissed her voraciously, his tongue in her mouth, claiming hers, sucking, biting, his body dropping to her breasts, devouring them, taking each one in his mouth, sucking until it hurt and then beyond the pain to nirvana. Touching her, scratching her, biting her, bending her to his will. Entering her, fucking her, bringing her up with him, hurtling her over the edge. Again and again.

  Him on his knees, his cock in her mouth, his fingers wrapped in her hair, holding her head, forcing himself to the edge of her throat and she, taking him in until she could stand it no more, then struggling away from him and impaling herself on his cock, riding him, his hands on her ass, denting her skin, his strong stomach keeping him off the ground as she thrust on top of him. Her back arched, her
breasts jutting up towards the moonlight, a gift for the goddess. Both coming, neither sated. Until finally, as the Hunter’s Blood Moon waned, as Grace came one last time, her uncontrollable desire faded too. She fell against Hawes, her body splayed over him, her arms wrapped tightly around his chest and she slept like Snow White.

  Chapter 9

  When she woke, the sun was high in the sky. She should have been chilled through, but her body was still heated, its core a radiator. She glanced around looking for Hawes, but she couldn’t see him. She was alone and she shivered at the realization. Had this been a nightmare? Had she dreamed the death of her professor, her trip to the underworld, her wild unfettered lust for a werewolf?

  Her eyes grazed her body. No, this was not dream, whether she willed it to be or not. Blood mingled with semen on her legs, still sticky to her touch. Dried cum on her belly. Pain in her muscles, ones unused for fucking, between her thighs, the cheeks of her ass. Hands and knees scraped, her jaw aching from sucking him, her lips tender from his savage kisses. And the fear. The fear that was gone last night, welled up in her again. The Hunter’s Blood Moon was an aphrodisiac. It gave her strength, it made her great. Without it, she was… well… she was just Grace.

  Except, even through the fear, the desire for Hawes still simmered. It was no longer overwhelming her. Her mind was back, teasing her pussy as she remembered Hawes’ body, his caresses, his maleness. She wondered if she could bring herself to orgasm now, ran her fingers through her folds, her sensitive clit shrinking from her touch. How many times did she come last night? How many glorious, dizzying times did she fall off that cliff? All her frustration, pent-up desire overflowed each time she orgasmed. It was maddening just thinking about it.

  She looked up at the sky to reassure herself that it was daylight, that the Hunter’s Blood Moon was gone. That she was normal again. Maybe not quite her old self, but in control. The silence intruded on her thoughts and her eyes searched for Hawes. Where the fuck was he? She didn’t even know where she was. She struggled to her knees, every muscle in her legs protesting. She let the pain course through her, then ebb. Slowly, she stood, letting a wave of dizziness pass, making sure she was solid before taking a few faltering steps. “Fuck,” she said aloud. It seemed appropriate.

  “Hawes,” she shouted into the trees. “Hawes, where are you?” She didn’t know what to do. Walk back? To where? She was disoriented, lost. And naked. The warmth she had when lying on the ground was rapidly dissipating. It was October, it was cold and she thought she was going to become hypothermic again. Then Hawes walked into the small clearing, dressed now, in jeans and warm jacket, leather boots on his feet.

  “Where were you?” Tears seeped from her. “I thought you left me.”

  Hawes’ eyes narrowed. Whatever happened between them last night, whatever desire they shared, had ebbed for him too. Last night he was her lover, careful and caring for her even through his dominance. Today he was a stranger. “I went to the cabin to get you a fur.” He held it out to her and she snatched it from him, wrapping herself in it. He approached her, gripped her bicep as he sniffed her. He grinned as he stepped back. “You have been well and truly fucked, mate.”

  She didn’t smile. “As have you, mate,” she snapped. “And it’s over, right? We’re mated. We can stop all the bullshit?”

  “It’s just started, Grace.” He brought his face to hers and mashed his lips to hers, sending a cascade of shivers through her. “Do you want me again?”

  “No,” Grace said. But her breathing, her heart, her desire betrayed her. He told her as much as he pulled his hard cock from his trousers and fucked her upright against a tree. Hard, relentless until she came, screaming his name.

  Chapter 10

  Grace was pregnant. Hawes told her that morning after the Hunter’s Blood Moon. After he fucked her senseless again. Mersin and Cordea confirmed it. It would be a human pregnancy, a 9-month cycle. The baby would be a boy, born sometime late July. The village celebrated their Alpha’s mating, treated Grace like the queen they thought she was. They bowed down to her, brought her gifts, made preparations for the baby, the saviour that would arrive in the summer.

  Hawes was back to being Hawes. Cold, demanding, Alpha. He fucked her when he wanted her, which was almost all the time. When she wasn’t near him, she hated him, but when he touched her, she was his to claim however he wished. And he did. Relentlessly. And she welcomed him each time, opened her thighs like a whore. Each time they fucked, she came like it was the first time, a lifetime of unreleased passion spilled out of her, controlling her, owning her. Like Hawes did. It was impossible and unsustainable because it made her insecure and needy.

  October turned to November and the snow fell hard. Hawes, as ruler now of his kind both above and below, wielded his power with authority. Both were his to command. Nordil was locked up, not killed as Hawes had promised. It was much better that he live out his eternity chained like a dog, in the bedroom that once belonged to him. Despite her objections, Hawes forced Grace to accompany him to his underworld kingdom. Fucked her in front of Nordil, paraded her around, assigned her hellhound guards both in the underworld and above. She was precious to him. Or rather, her cargo was. She wondered what would happen when the child was born.

  Her senses were sharper now. Cordea worked with her to channel the wolf in her. Taught her how to control it so it didn’t overwhelm her. It was intense to be able to smell odors, trails that were days, weeks, even months old. Her hearing was sharper, her sight clearer and she was physically stronger. No match for Hawes, but at least she had stamina.

  One day, after they’d fucked and he pulled himself from her, she rolled to her back and stared at him, her eyes lingering on his handsome face, so perfect. “This house is too small for the three of us.”

  He stood, his cock half-erect, still breath-taking as her eyes stroked it. She felt her heat grow. She didn’t know if it was the baby in her womb or if her feelings for him were changing, but these days he just needed to enter a room and she was wet and panting.

  “The village will build us a new one, in the spring. In the village, where you and the boy will be well-protected.

  She sat up, curling her legs under her, her ass resting on her calves, and watched him as paced. Like he was waiting. For the child, she guessed. He had a long wait. She needed reassurance.

  “Do you love me?” she asked.

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes.” She lied. And then she stopped. Did she love him? Maybe, but there were days she also hated him. “Do you love me?” she insisted.

  He sighed, “You’re my mate, Grace. It could not be otherwise.”

  She wasn’t satisfied with his answer. It didn’t reassure her. “Are you faithful?”

  He stopped his pacing and gazed at her. Conjecture in his eyes. Then he came to her and sat down beside her, raked a nail across her cheek, down her jaw, past her neck until he reached her breast. He rubbed her nipple, then pinched it sending a spasm of pain, then lust through her.

  “I want only you, mate. I think of only you. When my cock grows hard, it’s because of you. I need no other.”

  Was that a yes? Grace wondered. But his hand had moved from her breast, over her belly, pushing her thighs open, fingers sliding through her folds, touching her intimately. He pushed her onto the bed and brushed his lips across hers, sending a cascade of fire down her spine. Then he fucked her and she let him. How could it be otherwise?

  Chapter 11

  Christmas came and went without notice or celebration. The villagers’ God was not yet born. July would be their season for celebration. In January, the days grew dark, the nights longer. The winter blew in with a force burying the village in snow. People kept to their homes, hunkered down. Waited for spring. As the new year passed, the baby grew bigger, Grace’s belly expanding. Hawes now left her at home on his trips to the underworld. She was grateful at his absence. A respite from his insatiable appetite.

  In March, she sat befor
e a flickering fire, wistful, thoughtful. Wondering if anyone in her world before the nightmare that was Hawes, missed her, questioned her absence. Was Eric’s body ever found? Her heart twisted when she though of her professor. Tall, handsome, dimples when he smiled, which was often. He was never going to be her one and only. She knew that before she left on this trip. But he had sparked her interest, made her hopeful.

  Tears slipped from her eyes as she folded her hands across her belly. What would he say about this prophecy? He would logically refute it, but would he believe if he’d witnessed her behaviour during the Hunter’s Blood Moon? Would he have embraced the truth after being dragged to the underworld and held there? And what was the truth anyway? That her womb held a God? No, not a God, a demon. A mixed breed of three different races – what would that produce? What if he inherited her latent wolf gene? Mersin said no, that would not happen, biologically could not happen. And Cordea, all-knowing seer, also denied this possibility. This boy, her boy, would grow and be great. He would be strong like his father in both mind and physicality.

  Grace dreaded this, knew it was wrong. This boy would rule three worlds – and if he was like Hawes, the human race, her race, would suffer. The baby kicked out at her as if he knew her thoughts. She rubbed her belly gently, a lullaby for an innocent. He wouldn’t stay innocent though, not under the tutelage of Hawes. The child would grow up hard, difficult. Authoritative, impatient. Who would his mate be? Human, werewolf, demon? Or one like her, a mixed-race? Would the child’s seed produce another God? Would there be many Gods, with their frailties and faults? Incestuous, tumultuous, fighting among themselves, Bacchian. How would it impact their worshippers, their people, their flocks? Would they destroy the world with their need for power, their petty betrayals and jealousies?