Savage Satisfaction

by Lila Dubois

  Christoffer looked away. William released him—it was as he feared. “I will warn you now,” he told Christoffer, “not to get, er, emotionally attached to me.”

  “So what, I’m supposed to live with you for the rest of my life, fuck you, but pretend I barely know you?”

  “Release my horse.”

  Christoffer let go the bridle. William briefly considered giving up on the idea of running with the boy, but he didn’t want Christoffer’s sulk to interrupt his plans.

  The issue of Christoffer’s feelings would have to be dealt with, though William twitched with discomfort at the thought. He lived a quiet, controlled life. The most emotional he ever got was watching rugby—he’d been known to shed a tear when a crowd of Englishmen started singing Swing Low, Sweet Chariot during a ripping game. He was ill-equipped to deal with Christoffer’s emotions, and after this little display he was convinced the boy’s feelings were stronger than lust.

  Perversely, that was more frightening than fucking. Sex was one thing—emotions another, more uncomfortable, thing.

  But it would be a lie for William to say his emotions were uninvolved. They were involved, just not with the boy.

  He could still smell Mirela on his skin, and when he closed his eyes he could see her, soft and helpless yet full of life. She satisfied the barbarian urges inside him. He was fiercely pleased that he was her first lover and, as she was his for the rest of her life, he would be her only lover. She excited him, challenged him, yet made him feel more a man. She was beautiful, obedient, graceful and exotic.

  He could not wait to see her fly, could not wait to don the glove her family provided and cast her from his arm.

  He could not wait to fuck her again.

  Daydreaming about his falcon, locked in her room as if she were a princess in a tower, absorbed William until they reached the edge of the forest. He planned to take Christoffer along the car path that edged the deer park, as there was plenty of space and good ground for his horse.

  “Come here,” William commanded. When Christoffer was close enough, William leaned low in the saddle and slipped the token between the disks of the collar. Christoffer rested his cheek on William’s wrist. The collar popped open. William jerked his hand away, bringing the collar, which he tucked into his jacket pocket.

  Christoffer was already shedding his clothes. William let him do it. The boy crouched and William swung off his horse. The horse had been trained to ride for foxhunts with a pack of braying dogs, but it was best to be careful. He held the reins below the horse’s chin, keeping his head down.

  Christoffer the man was melting away into Christoffer the wolf. When the change was complete, the wolf shook himself and stretched, chest sinking down toward the ground, paws pressing into the dirt.

  William’s horse took a few nervous steps but settled quickly. William motioned for Christoffer to walk around the horse. He had the wolf make two circuits before he was satisfied his horse wouldn’t bolt.

  The wolf lifted his nose, scenting the air. When William swung up into his saddle, the wolf lowered his nose and shook his head.

  William clicked his tongue and the horse moved forward. With heel pressure he quickened the pace to a trot, then canter. The wolf ran beside him, eerily silent. William’s earlier stress over Christoffer’s feelings melted away. The exhilaration of being outdoors, of feeling the wind on his face as his wolf ran beside him, soothed William’s frazzled nerves.

  They circled the deer park. There was one troubling moment when the deer scented Christoffer and took off, en masse. His horse broke from a canter into a gallop and William had to bring him down to a walk to gain control.

  The wolf cocked his head to the side, and William knew he was asking a question. Feeling rather smug that he could read the body language of the wolf, William nodded that he was all right, then increased his horse’s pace. Noticing that Christoffer was not beside him, William looked over his shoulder to see what was wrong. The wolf was again scenting the air. Slightly concerned, William reminded himself to ask what it was Christoffer was smelling once the boy was in a body that allowed him to be verbal.

  This was a training exercise rather than pleasure, though the training was primarily for William’s horse. When he actually took his Hunting Pair out hunting he planned to do it atop the gelding. Part of William, actually a large part of him, wished he were on foot, running beside Christoffer.

  They were three-quarters of the way around the deer park now. The horse’s ears, which had been twitching, sometimes even lying flat, shifted forward as the wind changed.

  Licking his finger, William tested the wind and realized the horse had, until now, been downwind of the wolf. Now Christoffer was downwind of William.

  William noticed a beer bottle in the grass at the edge of the path. Youths from the village must be sneaking out here to drink. He’d have to phone—

  A growl pulled his attention away from the bottle. William looked to the wolf, whose lips were pulled back in a snarl. The wolf’s nose cocked up, then he shook his head. The growl died and William slowed his horse to a trot. Something was wrong.

  The wolf hadn’t slowed, and pulled ahead of William. Wishing fervently that he had some way of communicating with Christoffer, William trotted after him.

  Ten yards in front of the horse the wolf swung wide. Lips pulled back, exposing sharp teeth, the wolf raced toward horse and rider. His gelding pranced from side to side and William fought to bring him under control. What was Christoffer doing?

  “Stop it,” William barked, grabbing mane as his horse pranced.

  Christoffer didn’t stop. The wolf snapped at the horse’s ankles as it ran past then circled around. The wolf’s growl escalated, the sound vibrating in the air. The hair on William’s forearms stood on end.

  The wolf snapped at the horse’s face and William lost control. With a terrified whinny the gelding reared, front hooves pawing the air. William stood in his stirrups, desperately throwing his weight forward as he yelled for Christoffer to stop. The horse’s hooves hit the ground. The wolf lunged again, snarling. The horse’s head thrashed side to side. William could see white all around the eyes.

  This time when the horse reared William couldn’t hold on. Kicking his feet from the stirrups so he wouldn’t get dragged, William surrendered to the inevitable. He hit the ground hard, landing flat on his back. His mouth opened and closed, struggling for air that refused to come.

  But the danger was not over. A drop hit William’s face and he opened his eyes to see the snarling maw of a wolf.

  Stunned from the fall, he couldn’t move, though his instincts screamed at him to curl up and protect his face. The wolf—William couldn’t think of it as his wolf, his Christoffer—pressed his nose to William’s neck.

  The wolf sniffed him, his cold nose sliding down William’s chest.

  God help me, William thought as the muzzle pressed into his crotch.

  The wolf took a deep breath and William could feel the pull of air through his riding breaches. The wolf bounded away, tipped its muzzle to the sky and howled.

  The howl was long and mournful, heartbreaking and terrifying.

  William’s breath came back in a whoosh. Rolling to his hands and knees, he moved to rise but the wolf was there, snarling at him. On his hands and knees William was shorter than the wolf, who from this angle was a tower of muscle and teeth.

  “What are you doing?” William demanded. Was the reasoning human Christoffer even in there to hear him? The wolf’s eyes were wild and savage, without a hint of human intelligence.

  The wolf snarled, flecking William’s face with spit. William pushed to his feet, only to fall again as the wolf knocked into his legs. William’s wrist twinged as he fell and the shock of pain galvanized him to action.

  In a move best described as foolhardy, he tackled the wolf. It felt as though he’d tried to take down a pony. The wolf’s nails sunk into the ground and he forced William back. William scrambled to stay on his knees,
but the wolf was too powerful. With a twist, the wolf threw William to the ground. He landed on his side and the collar dug into his hip.

  William ignored the instinct to curl up in a ball and rolled onto his back. The wolf pounced on him, chest down, snarl rumbling from his throat. One paw was on William’s chest and the sheer weight of the animal forced the air from William’s lungs.

  Praying this would work, William shoved his wrist into the wolf’s mouth, forcing the jaws open. At the same time, William jerked the collar from his pocket and slid it around the wolf’s neck. He heard it snap closed.

  The wolf backed away, head thrashing. Magic crackled in the air as bones popped and skin split, the snarling wolf becoming a snarling man.

  Christoffer knelt in the dirt, lips pulled back from his teeth.

  “What the fuck!” William yelled, still shaking with adrenaline.

  “You fucked her,” Christoffer said. “You fucked her. I can smell her on your dick.”

  “That’s what this is about?”

  “You fucked me, then turned around and fucked her. Asshole.”

  “What business is it of yours?” The edges of William’s vision were crimson with anger. He crawled to Christoffer and grabbed him by the hair, turning his face up. “I will fuck her whenever I want. How dare you presume to control me?”

  “So you were lying. You fucked me and then you lied to me.”

  “Lied about what? Everything I told you was the truth.”

  “But you were planning to be with her!” Tears filled Christoffer’s eyes then spilled down his cheeks.

  “Jesus,” William muttered. He pushed the boy away and rose to his feet.

  “No. No! Don’t walk away from me.”

  “Pull yourself together. You’re hysterical.”

  “Don’t treat me like a girl. I’m not.”

  “Then stop acting like one.”

  Christoffer snarled and the sound was wolf-like. “I’m leaving.”

  William spun and caught him by the arm. “You’re mine.”

  “I can’t do this. I can’t be your fuck-toy and your Beta and yet have you treat me like a servant.”

  “You are my wolf.”

  “You had sex with me.”

  “And I had sex, and will continue to have sex, with Mirela.”

  “I get it, you’re so scared that you liked fucking me you’re going to bang the first pussy you see.”

  “Don’t talk about her like that,” William snarled, yanking Christoffer to him. The boy’s face fell, and William realized his mistake.

  “You…you love her.”

  “Christoffer, no. I—”

  With a scream of pain, Christoffer threw himself at William, hands curled into fists.

  Chapter Ten

  Christoffer could barely see through his tears. He was a moron, a blind, stupid moron. What was wrong with him?

  He swung at William, who ducked.

  He wanted to leave this place. He wanted to get away from the feelings William caused. He’d been so happy when William asked him to come on this run, Christoffer had felt as though his heart would burst.

  He’d fallen in love with his Alpha.

  Christoffer knew exactly when it had happened—the day William took him into the library and asked his opinion on training. Christoffer’s life, though filled with excitement and cheap thrills, was not intellectually fulfilling. William didn’t see him as a silly playboy, always in trouble, constantly turning to the Alpha for attention and help, the way his old pack did.

  William saw him as something. William valued his opinion, his ideas. Christoffer was full of pride that he was trusted by such a powerful and handsome man. He’d always been a happy member of the pack, never aspiring to any authority, but with William Christoffer wanted not only the title but the duties of Beta. He wanted to be William’s enforcer, his protector.

  And he wanted his feelings for William to be reciprocated.

  William caught him by the neck. “Calm down.”

  The order slipped over Christoffer as though it were honey, but his heart was beating too fast, his anger too great, for him to obey. He jerked William’s arm from his neck. “I’m leaving,” he said again. He prayed William wouldn’t let him do it.

  “You’re mine.” William’s crisp English voice bit off the words.

  “I can’t live like this,” Christoffer said, and it was the truth. All through their run he’d been catching a whiff of Mirela’s scent. He’d thought at first she must have escaped, but then he realized her scent was coming off William.

  It wasn’t until he’d been able to press his nose to William’s crotch that he’d accepted it—William had slept with Mirela.

  He shouldn’t be fucking Mirela—she was a stupid animal, too dumb to be free. William didn’t trust her, William trusted him. Sure, they’d played with her, but it had been them, together, a part of her training.

  He didn’t want to share William—he wanted William to himself. How else could he win the Alpha’s love?

  Christoffer was so distracted by his thoughts he didn’t see William’s fist until the last second. There was a crack and the world went dark.

  William shook out his hand. That hurt. Christoffer was sprawled on the ground. Face grim, William took the belt from his pants and bound Christoffer’s hands, then took off in search of his horse.

  He found the animal a ten-minute jog down the path, munching grass. The horse placidly looked up when William approached and made no protest when he mounted up.

  He returned to find Christoffer still out cold. After much swearing William was able to lift the boy onto the saddle, draping him there belly down. Taking the reins, he walked the horse back to the house.

  William prayed fervently the gardener was gone for the day as he crossed the grass. He could think of no reasonable explanation as to why he had an unconscious naked man draped across his horse.

  He manhandled Christoffer into the kitchen. Yesterday’s dishes were in the sink, meaning the housekeeper hadn’t come yet. William called Edward and asked him to come and collect the horse, which he’d left tied up outside, then called the housekeeper and left her a message not to come.

  Filling a bowl of water, William threw it on Christoffer. The boy groaned and opened his eyes.

  “Wake up,” William ordered. “I’m not carrying you up the stairs.”

  Christoffer sputtered, then pushed himself up on one elbow, hands still bound. William grabbed him under the arm and hauled him to his feet. Once Christoffer was up, William held him by the back of his neck, forcing him to bend forward. The fight drained out of him.

  William led him from the kitchen up the stairs to Mirela’s room. He hesitated for a moment as they entered the sitting room that connected the rooms he’d assigned to his Hunting Pair, but Christoffer’s room wasn’t fitted to keep someone in the way Mirela’s was.

  Plus, he wanted her to witness this.

  William unlocked and opened the door, pushing Christoffer inside.

  Mirela was seated on the floor, her body bent in half as she stretched. Her head jerked up, hooded face turning toward them. “Master?” She climbed to her feet, jesses jangling, arms outstretched. He saw her sniff. “Christoffer?” She smiled as she said it, clearly happy to have the wolf’s company.

  “Shut up, bitch,” Christoffer snarled.

  William shoved him to his hands and knees.

  “What’s happened?” Mirela backed up until she hit the wall.

  “Christoffer resents the fact that I slept with you.”

  “Why?” She sounded genuinely curious.

  “Tell her, Christoffer,” William ordered. He wanted to hear what the boy had to say.

  “I-I…” Christoffer shook his head.

  “Tell her!” William roared.

  Christoffer flinched and curled up, head tucked between his arms. “I love him. I love him and I’m jealous. He fucked me and then he fucked you, and I hate that.”

  “You had sex with
Christoffer?” Mirela asked.

  Dammit. William had forgotten she didn’t know.

  “Real sex, not just oral?”

  “Yes,” Christoffer replied when William didn’t.

  “Oh.” Mirela sank down to the floor. “He is our master. It is his right to fuck his animals whenever he chooses.”

  “No.” William’s voice was hoarse. “It’s not like that. You wanted it. You told me so. And so did Christoffer. My father never had sex with his Hunting Pair.”

  “Oh,” she said again, and William didn’t know what that meant. “Christoffer?”

  “What?” he snarled.

  Mirela started crawling across the floor.

  “What?” Christoffer repeated.

  Mirela kept moving, tracking him by his voice.

  Looking up, he finally saw her. “Stay away from me.”

  “Why are you mad at me?” she asked.

  “Don’t you get it? He hates that he’s attracted to me. If he has you he can ignore me.”

  “But you’re his favorite,” she said, sounding puzzled.

  William winced. “I don’t have a favorite.”

  “But you do. He is allowed out and—”

  “Quiet,” William snapped at her. He needed to regain control of the situation.

  Mirela fell silent, her head bowed.

  “Come here, Mirela,” he ordered her.

  Mirela hesitated, then crawled toward him. When she stopped, he barked, “Hurry up.” When she reached him Mirela curled her arms around his leg, clinging to him. William wasn’t looking at Mirela, he was watching Christoffer. Emotions washed over the boy’s face too fast for William to decipher. “It appears I should have finished training you my way. I was wrong to think I could trust you.”

  “This has nothing to do with training,” Christoffer argued. “This is about us.”

  “Us is the Lord of Eahrington and his wolf. You will obey me, respect me, whatever I do. I am not yours…and never will be.”

  The boy let out a high whimper and wrapped his hands over his head.

  Leaving Mirela where she was, William jerked Christoffer to his feet. He pulled the boy to the wall and fastened him into the leather restraints that Christoffer himself had installed.