“Toria or Bresa,” Arran confirmed again, scratching his chin. “I will think on it.”
* * * *
The following afternoon, just one day from the tournament, Arran set out for the village in order to find Bresa and Toria. He wanted to compare the two women, to gauge them before he made a decision to fight.
Bresa was the first woman he located. She was sitting among some of the other older she-wolves weaving baskets. He could tell she was weathered, but the luster of life was still bright in her eyes. Although she had conceived several strong pups in her day, her childbearing days were over.
The word of Colcu’s death had spread like wildfire, and Bresa’s expression was a sad one, for she knew her days of mating were past. A fresh, young alpha would never consider her.
Moving on, he was unable to track down Toria until some of the younger she-wolves, several years away from maturing, directed him toward the river. Usually the women would go in groups to bathe, but Toria was said to be alone. Arran knew the majority of the women were too put-off by Toria’s appearance for them to ever consider her one of the pack. And she was forbidden to bathe with the men because it was not proper—she was considered an outcast.
Arran also remembered that Toria had been treated quite poorly over the years by the entire pack in general. All of it was due to her unnatural, unwomanly appearance. Arran tried to recall the last time he actually laid eyes upon Toria, but could not. Due to the ridicule and brunt of many jokes, Toria chose to move outside the boundaries of the main village, to live a more secluded life—a life of solitude away from the cruel actions of her own kind. Looking back, he could hardly blame her. Sadly, Arran realized that he too had poked fun at her in the past, had given in to the temptations of cruel, uncaring jests in the presence of his so-called friends.
Now he found himself moving toward Toria, the woman he once tripped as a pup just to cause her to fall facedown in the mud. The older ones had put him up to it. He regretted that cold, rainy day with a passion.
Descending over the crest of the hill, he cut toward the wide, verdant vale and into a copse of red maples where the clear water ran for miles. After crouching down, he crawled toward the overhang where a large willow tree dipped into the water below. He spotted Toria near the falls. Her back was to him, and she was cupping her hands to catch the cascading water. From here he could only see the curve of her wide back and roundness of her thick shoulders. Inching closer, he could make out the flesh of her bubbled as cheeks and muscular thighs. Why couldn’t he be built like her? A touch of jealousy touched him at that moment, seeing the chiseled curves of her frame.
When she turned slowly, he caught himself from falling completely over, his eyes bulged from his sockets, and the breath left his lungs. Toria had grown perfectly into her larger body. No longer bulky or cumbersome, she was built more sensually, the muscles more refined. He had trouble prying his eyes away from her perfectly balanced breasts, full and perky. They had grown considerably since the last time he saw her. No doubting that she was a woman now. Toria was absolutely stunning, a hidden treasure waiting to be found and claimed.
When the raven-haired woman stepped from the water, Arran slipped on a wet rock smacking his face against a low branch.
* * * *
“Who is there?” she called out, reaching for her knee-length tunic. Growing more irritable by the second, she scanned the tree line closely, attempting to see who was spying on her again. It was all too common for the younger males of the village to watch her as she bathed. She often heard their light banter and snickering behind the thick shrubs. She did not know if the younger wolves were doing it as a dare or out of pure curiosity. Usually after she growled at them they would scurry away as if their asses were on fire and leave her in peace.
This one, however, was still somewhere out there, watching her.
She threw her hands in the air and spun her body slowly. “There!” she yelled. “Is this what you came for? You all had your fun—now be gone with yourselves. You saw the village freak!”
* * * *
Arran’s heart sank when he heard Toria’s words. She regarded herself poorly, less than an equal. He could even hear the sadness etched in her tone. He wanted to go to the woman, to hold her and say he was sorry. Apologize for all the wrongs that she had to suffer through.
* * * *
Toria’s face flushed red with anger when she heard no one leave. She shifted into wolf form and charged headlong toward a dark figure along the edge of the water. She was determined to scare the tar out of the boys hiding from her in the bushes. When she bounded up the hill, there were a pile of clothes in tatters and a wolf gliding toward a grove of tall maples. She gave chase, catapulting her muscled body forward on powerful limbs.
Toria caught the smaller wolf in a clearing. The gentle slope was covered with clover and orange-colored wildflowers. Her sharp teeth clenched around the base of his skull soft enough as to not break the skin or cause any serious damage. They tumbled down the incline until the flat of the land stopped their descent.
When they shifted, Toria was straddled over Arran, pelvis-to-pelvis, as she trapped him between muscled thighs. Toria took a few breaths and gazed down at Arran in dismay. She tried hard to conceal the shock and disappointment that moved slowly across her features. As younglings she had considered Arran a friend, for he had not teased her as much as the other villagers. This was the confirmation needed to fully realize that she had no one. She was truly alone and would remain so for the rest of her days.
“Release me.” Arran grunted, barely able to speak until the python-like death grip lessened around his waist.
She dipped her head to avoid his eyes, the tears beginning to well. Remain strong, Toria. There is not one person worth any tears in this village. They all hate you. But it was too late, as she felt the cold line fall from her cheek. He attempted to rise, but Toria splayed her palms over his chest and shoved him down hard. “Have you not yet had your fill of ridiculing me?” she said hatefully. “I have stayed away, but it is not enough. I thought you were different than the rest, Arran.”
The tears flowed freely as she spoke in a frustrated tone, her throat struggling not to close completely. “I know I am not pretty nor a delicate thing, and I am destined to live a life of solitude. Is it not enough that no one will choose me as a life mate? Just go back to the village and leave me be.”
Her cold tears splattered against his chest, and when she tried to rise, he kept her stilled with a hand clasped on her outer thigh. The other hand he brought up to clear away the moisture from her reddened cheeks. Then he swept a long strand of dark hair from her wide hazel eyes and looped it behind her ear.
Momentarily startled by his sudden actions, Toria sat stock-still on top of him as his hand cupped the square of her sturdy chin to force her gaze to his. “Tis’ a true thing, Toria,” he began with a rueful smile. “You are not a pretty thing—you are the most beautiful thing I ever laid these eyes upon. There is no comparison to the other women of the village.”
She didn’t believe him for a second and wanted to punch the cheesy smile from his face. This was by far the cruelest game anyone has played on her. With a closed fist, she hammered down to strike his nose squarely. His head snapped back and blood oozed from both nostrils.
* * * *
Dizzied for a few heartbeats, he could not believe the force in which he had been struck. Quickly, he caught a second strike and harmlessly batted it away. He pushed himself forward and mashed his lips against hers. He would need to show her he meant his words before she outright pummeled him to death.
* * * *
She tasted the sweet saltiness of fresh blood on his lips and tongue as it flowed around her mouth. No one had ever kissed her—not like this, and she was at a complete loss, her mind saturated with a myriad of strange thoughts.
Why was he kissing her? Was this actually real or just a very vivid dream?
Being new at this, she allowed her
mouth to fall open while his tongue delved against her own. Soon she felt a swelling beneath her, a curious firmness pressing against the entrance of her sex. This confirmed that things were definitely real. This was no dream.
Toria became lightheaded when Arran broke off the kiss and captured her right nipple between his lips. A soft groan escaped her lips while feeling the wet heat laving in circles over her puffy areola. A free hand went up to knead the other nipple, and it swelled instantly.
She never thought anyone could bring out these feelings that had been lying dormant inside her for so long. He made her feel wonderful in a few short seconds. The sensation of being wanted was a thrill in itself for Toria. Arran managed to unlock something incredible within her, a primal desire to receive his cock. There was a throbbing between her thighs, the warmth of his strong shaft pushing at her folds that were now dripping uncontrollably, aching to be penetrated.
Toria held him to her breasts, reveling in the touch of his tongue, and began a slow rocking movement against his erection.
“Ohhh...Gods, Toria.”He hummed over her engorged nipple. “I desire you badly.”
“I want to feel you inside me,” she whimpered in a hot breath.
* * * *
That gave him the confirmation he was after.
She raised her hips as he reached down to angle his head against her saturated sex. When she delicately lowered, he felt her acceptance and the slick warmth that encased his shaft. She was tight for such a sizable woman, but he began to thrust against her, evoking whimpers and rumbling growls from Toria’s inner depths.
His calloused fingers dug into her thighs, forcing Toria to rotate her hips above him as he arched into her weight, submerging himself completely. The muscles of her inner walls squeezed him painfully when she started to arch against his thrusts.
Toria used his pecs as handlebars while his hands scooped the back indention of her solid asscheeks, his fingers gradually curling toward the tiny opening of her anus. Her confidence in this position was becoming evident as her hips glided smoothly over his, over and over again. Gradually, she moved faster and was much more forceful in the process. Her full breasts hardly jiggled as she laid into him, submerging herself on Arran’s hard cock.
The roles were definitely reversed, and all Arran could do was hold on as this beautifully sculpted woman used his cock the way she wanted. Her pussy, wet and sweltering, seemed to trap him, seemed to suck him further toward her womb as she crashed into him. He was going to come any second, but he wanted to hold on until Toria was satisfied.
* * * *
Toria could not think of anything else but to ride this man into oblivion. She never came close to feeling this good in all of her life, and there was a change deep within her, a new discovery that compelled her to rotate her hips into Arran. The fire in her loins was a bittersweet burn, the friction sending waves of bliss down her spine. She was close to something miraculous.
Through mutual grunts of affection, bright lights flashed in Toria’s mind as she neared release. Nothing could impede this moment—it was hers and hers alone. A sudden burst of energy, a twitching deep inside her caused her inner walls to painfully contract in sharp succession around Arran’s girth. She felt her silken lining massaging Arran’s cock for every drop of his hot seed. Her body shuddered then collapsed on Arran’s heaving chest. After a few seconds of silence, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her lips against his ear.
“That was...incredible,” she admitted in a warm breath that moved across his neck.
“No,” he corrected. “It is you that is incredible. Do you forgive me?”
“For what?” she asked dreamily, still swimming from her very first orgasm.
“For how I treated you when we were young—for all the cruelty.”
She had totally forgotten all about any of that—the name-calling, the ridicule, the cruelty for being different. Arran had momentarily drowned it in a blissful sea of desire. She was never really one to hold a grudge anyway, but she saw true concern in Arran’s darkly beautiful eyes and knew she could exploit it, use it to her advantage. “I don’t know.”She sighed. “What you did to me in the past was very hurtful.” She could hardly contain the smile on her face as she said it.
“I will do anything for your forgiveness, Toria. I was young and foolish.”
“Anything?”
He moved his mouth to hers and confirmed it with a long kiss that burned her insides, building a need that begged to be satisfied. “Anything,” he repeated.
Toria rolled to her back, spread her legs wide, and motioned for Arran to join her with a single wave of the finger. He crawled to her on his hands and knees until he was close enough for Toria to grip his shaft firmly. “Use this on me again and I will consider forgiving you,” she said, feeling his wetted cock spring to life in her palm.
His dark eyes glazed over with lust, and his grin was one of complete confidence. He actually wanted her. When his girth sank into her silken folds once again, she knew he sought forgiveness and she would undoubtedly give it.
Now she was the one who felt guilty for nearly breaking his nose.
Chapter 7
A crescent moon stood high in the sky, the campfire burning low, as Rain’s eyes sparkled to life. She saw an intense gaze from the man that had been her protector and wondered why he was awake this time of night, looking down at her with such disdain. Then she realized the problem when she saw her arms and legs. She had inadvertently shifted during the night. No longer was he looking at the white wolf, he was gazing into the eyes of Rain.
“What did you do with my wolf?” he demanded in a threatening tone that teetered on raw anger. “And where did you come from?”
She rose slowly and took a step toward him. He mirrored her movements in the opposite direction. “I am the wolf,” she said plainly.
In shock, Thane backed further away extracting the sword from his scabbard. “I don’t know what you are—keep your distance.”
She spread her hands wide and spoke softly. “You saved me from Colcu—for that I owe you everything...warrior. I would never harm you.” The last part sounded silly to Rain because she could never hurt this man, not even if she tried. He could easily snap her in two with his massive hands.
“I don’t believe you!” he snapped. “Show me the wolf or by the Gods I will cut you down where you stand.”
He really must have grown attached to the wolf, she surmised. But, hello, she was the wolf. “You need proof?”She sighed. “I will show you.”
With that she dropped to all fours, transformed in a flash, and slowly trotted around the giant with her tail high in the air. She shifted back into her human form only to see the warrior drop his sword and shakily stumble to one knee. His breathing was uneven and expression grim, almost as if she had betrayed him. She scrambled to his side and took one of his large paws in both of her hands and raised it to her lips, kissing his palm lightly.
“Please don’t hate me,” she whispered. “I cannot help what I am. You have been so kind and generous to me. You...you have given me life.”
* * * *
He didn’t hate this stunning vision before him. In fact, her unequaled beauty was entrancing, intoxicating on mythological proportions. Her long, silky blonde hair shone like pure gold in the dim moonlight. She was blessed with captivating blue eyes that were filled with wide wonderment, and her radiant cream-colored skin held the luster of youth. How could anyone hate this woman? No, there was no hate here, only confusion, and he did feel a little betrayed. Why did she not make him aware of this sooner? Wait—that was a great question to ask her. “Why wait to tell me this? That you were a...”
“Werewolf,” she finished for him. “I saw what you did to Colcu so easily, and I did not have the courage to tell you the truth—to make you aware of our differences.” She continued to brush her lips over the back of his hand, and the sensation began to warm his flesh as arousal crept in. “Are you going to hurt me?” she asked i
nnocently.
A lopsided grin crossed his wide face, and he reclaimed his hand from her clutches. Any more of that and he just may accidentally hurt her. “I have heard horrible stories of werewolves as a child,” he began solemnly. “That they steal babes in the night and relish the taste of human flesh. I was also told that the werewolves were extinct—hunted down and decimated.” His weary smile faded. “I do not hate you, for I do not know you. As to answer your other question—I have no reason to harm you unless you become a threat.”
“Rain,” she offered her name.
He went back to the fire, all too aware of her nakedness, and gathered his cloak. “Thane Ragnirak,” he said while covering her shoulders.
“Do you believe those stories of werewolves?” she asked sadly. “I could never injure a babe. We...we do not do those kinds of things. I can assure you.”
“It is only folklore, but seeing you here in the flesh...I think that anything is possible. It is far too early in the morning for such debate. My stupid horse left me because of you and your friend. I am lost and very tired.”
* * * *
He stretched out beside the fire, and Rain glared at him in silence for a long while. She had grown fond of sleeping beside the man, having his large body nestled against her at night. It gave her a sense of security, an invulnerability that she never experienced before. Thane was a warrior through and through, yet there was a gentle nature about him. Rain saw that in how he cared for the wolf, as if she were his own kin. She also sensed a disturbance in the man’s spirit, a turbulence in the soul that only comes after great loss. Rain was able to feel the sadness emanating from his deep-set blue eyes, the sensation so profound it moved her.
Last Knight of Jarna (Siren Publishing Allure) Page 4