Seduced by the Beast

by Jaide Fox

  They set out at a steady paced jog under the rising moons, guided by plentiful light, the landscape washed with watered red that revealed as much as it hid.

  Watching the silver and blood light mingle and play on the muscles of his naked back, Swan was struck by the raw power he exuded with each movement, with each breath that he took. It was difficult to reconcile him as one of the monsters. Wild, yes, but a monster? She was no longer as certain as she had once been that he deserved such a judgment.

  Strength was ingrained in the people of Shadowmere. Until ill had befallen her, she’d never before realized just how vulnerable she was as a human, helpless even to cast magic. The best defense she’d had was training with a blade, as all women must learn, but she’d seen no weaponry with which to arm herself since her arrival in Shadowmere.

  It rankled being dependent on another for everything, including protection, particularly when she trusted nothing about the man save the fact that his nature alone precluded trust.

  She had only these thoughts to keep her company, for Raphael said little and responded less. The darkened landscape afforded no distraction, lying indistinct beyond the circle of her vision, without even the shelter of trees to break the monotony. Gradually, the loam, softened and pungent with fallen, decaying leaves, gave way to hard, barren ground. Thousands of rocks littered their path, as though mammoth stone had once been moved across the earth and rubbed to pieces.

  Swan was grateful for the sturdy boots she’d been given, but still the stones made their mark felt on her soles, made walking difficult and hazardous. Her feet and legs ached with the near constant movement.

  Raphael pushed her to the boundaries of her endurance and beyond. Each league felt like a hundred, and she soon realized that no matter how much it galled her that she could not hide her weakness, she simply could not hold out. No training could match that of a shifter. Her stamina had collapsed, and he had not even broken a sweat.

  Finally, when she could run no more, she dropped to the ground. She gasped, clutching a stitch in her side, her lungs heaving as she struggled for breath, her heart pounding as if it would explode in her chest.

  He stopped and stood over her while she gathered herself. She wanted to strangle him, even if he was doing this for her. At that moment, she felt like she could gladly curl up and die, if only for the rest.

  Without a word, he bent and swept her into his arms. She yelped, shocked, and threw her arms around his neck for support. He stooped and grabbed the fallen baskets before taking off once more at a full run.

  She was no petite bit of fluff, no lightweight, and yet he carried her effortlessly, as though she were no more than a part of himself. Weary beyond belief, she settled her face against his neck. Within moments, her nostrils filled with him. His subtle pheromones sent her blood to roaring. The burning need began to surface like a live thing, insidious, creeping through her being and devouring logic and control. Desire this potent was not, could not be, natural. Swan jerked her face away, and his arms tightened around her, holding her snugly.

  “Put me down,” she said, thinking only that she must put distance between them before she shamed herself.

  As he had from the time they had left, he ignored her.

  The fact that he did not even dignify her request with a response only fueled her fear and anger. “Now, beast!” she commanded, her tone harsh, her voice shrill with consternation.

  The moment the words left her mouth, she realized what she’d said was unforgivable, but it was too late to snatch the words back, and her control was too tenuous for her to care greatly. She could not desire him. It would have been impossible were he any stranger, but this was far worse even than that. He was not of her own kind. He was a beastman.

  His jaw clenched, the muscles working. “Your prejudice is ugly. It taints your beauty,” he said, biting each word off.

  Swan glared at him, thankful for the dowsing anger that curbed her unwelcome appetite. “There has been little enough proof that beastmen deserve my regard.”

  He tensed as if she’d slapped him. “And yet you expect the help of a beastman?”

  “I do not need a lecture on the virtues of Shadowmere. Let me down and I will seek my own way,” she snapped unwilling to yield even knowing she had spoken in a way she should not have.

  He’d shamed her. She had acted abominably, throwing his charity in his face. Never would she have done so to another. Diplomacy had always been one of her strongest assets, but with Raphael, she lost all sense of reason. She should apologize, she knew, but it had been so long since she had, she found she could not force herself to speak the words. Her throat closed up, her pride refusing to budge.

  He’d done nothing but pick her up when she’d fallen, help her when she required it. Still, the words would not come.

  She should have been ashamed of herself. In fact, she was, and the feeling of reproach was alien to her. It made her angry at herself.

  His arms tightened around her, and he continued his pace.

  “I warned you not to touch me,” she said, voice soft with reproach.

  “I think perhaps you require a lesson in manners and humility.”

  Alarmed, she tensed. “How dare you threaten me! How dare you suggest that you have any right to teach me anything!”

  He glanced at her, but said nothing.

  Swan swallowed with some difficulty. “What do you mean to do?”

  Raphael would not answer her, and despite attempt after attempt, she could not lure him into speaking any more. She could blame no one but herself, ungrateful wretch that she was. He was silent well into the night, though his anger was palpable with every mile they crossed.

  Eventually, the tension and worries overcame her, and she slept, guilt plaguing her dreams.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  With the morning, she changed into a swan. One moment, he was cradling her in his arms, the next, a mist gathered and when it cleared, he held the graceful bird.

  If he had still harbored any doubts that she was under an enchantment, it had been dispelled. A true swan maiden would shift much the same as he did when he shifted into his beast form, with bones melding, their outer skin shivering as fur or down cloaked them.

  To change instantly was unnatural.

  Rising, he placed the squawking bird in the empty basket he’d brought to carry her and latched the lid. Although he studied her for some time, he saw no sign of the intelligent, vibrant woman she was as a human. Did the spell consume her entirely each day?

  He thought of the Flow, the mind force, and an idea occurred to him....

  * * * *

  She was sleeping in down, surrounded by comforting warmth and softness. Something pricked her consciousness, quiet, insistent. Swan snuggled deeper into the darkness, wanting nothing but blissful rest. She was so tired. Her bones ached from the run, from fighting to stay alive and continue going. Here all was peace, no troubles plagued her. Only sleep.

  A low growl of sound nagged her, buzzing in her mind like a fly. She waved it away, felt it tickle her lips, then her nose, and finally settle on her lobe.

  “Swan,” a voice whispered in her ear. She made no move to acknowledge the husky voice, instead struggling to burrow deeper into the comfort of nothingness.

  “Swan.” The voice was louder this time, substantial, obviously not the stuff of dreams. Something shook her shoulders. Still, she resisted. It was the none too gentle swat on her buttocks, followed by a soothing caress that finally drove the vestiges of sleep from her mind. Swan roused, groggy, struggling to turn and sit up.

  A hand pushed her down, on her back. “Keep your eyes closed, little bird. Lay still.”

  Raphael! She obeyed him, because she could do nothing else. Her eyes were sealed shut, heavy, as if made of lead rather than thin flesh. Instead of alarm though, she felt only a drunken restlessness.

  What was he doing here? Where was she, for that matter? This was not her bed, and neither was it the mass of furs she’d aw
akened on before. It felt nothing like either of those, and yet of both, a blending of memories that eluded her.

  Still, she could not open her eyes. Blinded, she had no defense, could not run or save herself. Her senses seemed unfocused, confused. If she didn’t know better, she’d almost suspect she’d lost herself entirely, existed as nothing but a thought in the darkness. Despite this handicap, she felt no fear, only a heightened awareness. “Where are we?” she asked softly, anxious to distract him from whatever his intent, listening for the sound of his movement but hearing nothing.

  “You changed, Swan.”

  She startled. He was above her now, but she hadn’t heard him move. “That’s ridiculous. I’m here.”

  He chuckled darkly, by her ear once more. No heated breath stroked her skin with his nearness. Swan shivered despite herself. His body settled over hers, trapping her between his hard thighs. His sex weighed heavily against her belly as he leaned over her.

  “I’m reminded of a promise I made.”

  She was not so sleep drugged that she missed the slight menace of those words. It did not bode well for her. Swan struggled to sit up but he pinned her arms above her head, until she lay helpless beneath him.

  “What do you mean by this?”

  “You’ll know, soon enough. First, an experiment.”

  If anything, she liked that suggestion less. Under his domination, he could do anything to her. Swan shivered as something akin to fear and desire thrilled her blood. “What have you done to me?”

  “I haven’t done anything ... yet.”

  A palm skated down her upraised arm, along the sensitive underside. Her breasts were drawn taut at the angle, easily plucked from his position. She was naked and wondered when she’d lost her gown, and how he had removed it without her knowledge. He could do anything he wanted apparently, with her none the wiser.

  The beastmen were renowned for their skills in the bedroom, legendary. The thought had always appalled her, but now she could not help the curiosity that filled her every fiber.

  Swan shook her head, shoving the persistent, erotic thoughts aside. “You’re lying, else this is a dream. You are here, but not.” She had to be dreaming. Never would she allow a beast to touch her this way, to dominate her so completely with no fight.

  “Would you like me to prove how very real I am?” he whispered against her ear, cupping one breast in a firm grip.

  Swan gasped at his familiarity, at the near painful puckering of her nipple in his hand as it reacted to his touch. He squeezed, kneading her firmly. She could almost picture him smile at her unbridled response.

  “I warned you not to touch me. I want nothing from you ... ever again.”

  He chuckled, knowing her words as lies. “No lasting harm will come to you.”

  “You are wrong. You cannot know everything.” She bit her lip as he pinched her nipple, tweaking it harder. An ache spread from the peak of her breast and lower, crept down to that place between her thighs.

  “I know your desire, Swan. You cannot deny your craving to know a beast’s every touch,” he murmured huskily against her neck, his lips pulling at the tender flesh. Placing a hand on her neglected breast, he repeated his taunting actions, massaging until the soft globe lay swollen and heavy beneath his hand.

  He stilled, pulled away from her neck. “This bud is shy. What will it take to awaken it, I wonder?”

  A soft roll, as of lips moving over the small bud followed his words, and then his teeth raked across her, dragging a groan from her throat as the nipple hardened beneath his touch.

  “Don’t do this.” She whimpered as he latched on to the peak, pulled hard with his mouth. A pulse started in her sex, quickening with each hard drag, each sharp tease. Moisture followed close behind the intense stimulation, making her womb clench on a hard spasm.

  She arched her neck, bending her head back, moaning as he moved down her stomach.

  Heat flared at his path. Her blood rushed in her veins, pooling in her sex, a pulse beating in her hidden nub. She shouldn’t want this. It should stop, but her mouth couldn’t form the words. She was as mute to say nay as she was blind.

  Raphael released her hands and moved, freeing her legs of their cage. He cupped her breasts as he drew lower, then released them, nuzzled the apex of her thighs with his nose. His lips teased the top of one limb, nipping the sensitive flesh as he spread her legs with callused palms.

  He rubbed his face against her inner thigh, faint stubble roughening her skin. She shivered at the contrast of silken lips and harsh stubble.

  Swan’s breath hitched at the first probe of his finger in her wet folds. He traced up and down her slit, parting her like a blossom, edging nearer and nearer the opening of her womanhood.

  “Say but my name, Swan. Tell me you want me. Say you want a beast to pleasure you as no man ever will.”

  “No, I don’t,” she said shakily, trying to mean it.

  He slid up, circled her clit with his wet finger, driving her mad with his teasing nearness. She wanted something from him, but her pride wouldn’t allow her to beg.

  “I can end it, Swan. You have only to admit your desire.”

  She shook her head, ignoring that unbearable touch. She realized then her wrists were free. The bonds gone. He’d released her when he let go of her hands.

  Hesitant, with growing strength, she opened her eyes. The pleasure disappeared in that instant. He was gone.

  * * * *

  As night fell, Swan changed into human form once more. Shivering, she slowly opened her eyes to dusk and the cool air of coming night. She stared at the dying rays of the setting sun, feeling an overwhelming sadness. She had always taken daylight for granted, never known how much the sun could be missed, but she was a creature of the darkness now, doomed never to see the sun again with the eyes of a human, unless the spell could be broken.

  Her thoughts turned to another creature of the dark, to Raphael.

  More specifically, her thoughts returned to the strange dream she’d experienced earlier. Had it truly been nothing more than a dream? Had guilt provoked the fantasy of admitting desire for a man not her kind? She was loath to say anything. If it had been a dream, she would be mortified to reveal the extent of her fascination with him. Lust could form no lasting connection--and she didn’t desire to be chained to any man.

  A fire flared to life, and she sat up, startled at the sudden flash.

  Raphael knelt across the way, watching her over the small, orange flame, his dark look blistering.

  Cloaked with trailing hair, she nevertheless felt completely exposed by his intense scrutiny. Swan covered her breasts with her arms, breaking eye contact.

  “Your gown is in that basket. You need to eat and warm yourself quickly. We dare not keep the fire long.”

  Swan complied, waiting until he turned his back to rise and dress herself. The muscles in his back were tense as he crouched, watching the growing darkness.

  She ate dried meat and cheese, studying him. Sipping sparingly on the water bladder, she finally could contain her silence no more. “Is there something I should know? You are acting most strange.”

  Standing, he faced her and pointed to the East. “Ravenel is but a league distant.”

  He must have carried her straight on through the day to cover so much ground. Had he not rested at all? “That is not what I asked.”

  He smiled briefly. “Your persistence is admirable.”

  “That is a pleasant way of saying that I am bull headed.”

  Raphael kicked dirt over the fire and packed their few supplies. “We are being followed.”

  There was no need to ask if she should be alarmed--she was already. “Are we in danger?”

  He didn’t look up from his task. “There is always danger in Shadowmere.”

  “How do you know we are being followed? Have you seen them? Who follows us and why?”

  “It is vampire, but their mind is shielded. I believe they will not act until they know our p
urpose, and by then, we will be under Ravenel’s protection. Getting out again is another matter entirely.” He stared off into the distance, back the way they had come. “I may return to Barakus to find it under their sway.”

  Swan was appalled. “You risk your rule for me? Why?”

  “I made a promise. I am a man of my word.”

  His words brought her no comfort. When she said nothing, in fact, stood rooted to the spot, he said, “We’ll need to travel faster. I must shift. I warn you now, you’ll likely be frightened.”

  She watched as he set the baskets down and unbuckled his kurt and red cape, averting her eyes at the last minute to avoid searing her mind with the image of his nakedness. He packed the black garment in a basket and crouched on the ground.

  “Will it hurt?” she asked, backing up a step as she watched him, unblinking.

  “There is some discomfort if you are a changeling or it is your first time, but I was born this way. I have shifted for decades.”

  “Decades? How old are you?”

  Raphael looked at her once, his eyes glowing with amber light, though he didn’t answer. He hung his head, allowing his long hair to shield his face from her view. His muscles tensed, jumping as though a surge of power coursed through his body. A wave of black fur flowed over his flesh like a rising tide, enveloping his bronze skin and leaving none of the man behind. His curled fists formed into great paws with black claws that scoured the hard earth. Ivory teeth flashed from the long muzzle as his hair shortened and turned to fur, revealing familiar amber eyes. In but a moment’s time, the man before her had shifted into a wolf nearly the size of a pony, as seamlessly as water flowing.

  She was held by those golden orbs, mesmerized as he padded close and dropped to allow her to ride him. Swan hesitantly gathered the baskets and climbed atop him. His fur was incredibly soft and long enough she could gather a hand hold. When she was settled, he rose and took off at a full run.

  His speed raised chill bumps on her skin, cool air whipped her hair in a frenzy at their passing. The land rushed by in dizzying starkness. Swan bent and cradled her face against his warm neck, burrowing into the fur.