by Misty Kayn
"What?" His eyes widened.
"Food. Are you hungry? Do you want a hot dog?"
Knight's lips stretched into a smile, the first one in response to something she said. She smiled in turn. Star, he was handsome.
"You think I eat dog food?"
"Why not, you're kind of a dog." Her hand flew to her mouth. "I didn't—"
In a blink, he was in front of her, loomed over her chair, brown hair around his face. He removed his shirt and placed it on the table, his eyes bright. Under her palm she mumbled, "I didn't mean that the way you think I did. I meant it in a non-doggy way."
He removed her hand with a firm grip on her wrist. "You don't like doggy?" He lifted her leg to tuck her hand under it. He placed her leg back down, her hand trapped. She picked up the food with her left hand, and pretended heat didn’t pool in her lower belly.
A bare-chested wolf knelt at her feet. Never in her life with all the magic in the lands and all the imaging pills at her whim would she dream up this situation. It was the strangest night of her life. She snuck a glance at his wide chest and pressed her legs together. They spoke of dogs she recalled. "I like...doggy."
"What don't you like?" He took her bare foot and placed it on said chest.
She spread her small toes admiring the difference in their skin color. "I'm not picky."
He laughed, his chest rumbling under her sole. "I guess then I'll have to do, hm?"
"I mean, I try not to be a burden, and think of good before bad."
He pushed her dress over her knees.
"What are you doing?"
"Healers orders." He reached for the massage oils.
Of course, duty for his charge. Clementine nodded and leaned back.
His hand wrapped around her ankle and he lifted it from his chest then paused and examined her foot. When his eyebrows drew down, she leaned in to look, too. "What is it? It's healed you know, and I didn't break my ankle."
Fingers around her ankle tightened and overlapped. "How can such a small girl hold so much magic?"
"Ah," she leaned back and wiggled her toes, her heart picking up speed. Why would he say such a thing? "Not so much, I train a lot that's why. I don't—"
"Mhm. May I taste?"
Her eyebrows drew down as she thought about the tasting. He was hard to keep up with but if she asked what he meant often, she'd come off as a dimwit. "The food. Why yes, here." She offered him the tray.
He shook his head. "Wolves taste and smell, it’s how we know about each other." He brushed his mouth over her anklebone, and her little toes curled when he swiped his tongue over it and inhaled.
"Okay then, what," she pinched her lips then continued, "what do you know now?"
He placed her foot back on his chest.
While he reached for the oils, a gentle breeze drifted up her dress. It disappeared as if it never were. Her dress fell over her hips. She gasped at her bare legs, exposed, her legs slightly open. They locked eyes at the same time as he opened the massage bottle and settled it next to his knee. The small thud made for a lot of noise in the quiet where the only sounds were ones their breaths shared. Her foot pressed against his chest, wetness pooled at her entrance, and she hoped he couldn't scent...
His nostrils flared.
She might die of embarrassment.
His eyes flashed in a dominant display of a different sort. This one a sexual kind. His grey wolf blurred his face when he leaned forward, and his wet muzzle brushed her inner thigh. He trailed up then stopped to inhale between her legs, and she swore his wolf stared right inside her where her dove had frozen in place.
Knight spread her legs, pulled her bottom over the edge of the chair then jerked back.
"You're still pierced."
The man was horrified, but the wolf couldn't get any closer, he wanted to come out of his skin.
"I'm twenty six."
"And?"
"I'm not a virgin." She propped her bottom to sit back on the chair.
Many ritualistic parents took their girls to an artist who pierced the hood of their clitoris with a small metal loop. Right of passage, one a husband, or a mate in Clementine's case, removed when they commemorated their rights. Once they reached teens, many girls thought such passage rights ridiculous and removed the hoop themselves, or kept the ring for lovers to play with. She didn't think about the loop, and she was pierced at twelve so she often forgot what it meant. Not that Knight would touch her anyway.
And he didn't.
Leaning back on his heels he kissed the back of her knee, swiped his tongue over the sensitive skin then placed her foot on his shoulder. "You taste like prey. Do you taste like prey everywhere?"
"Yes," she managed as his large hands spread the oil from her ankle to her thigh. When his hands landed on her hips and he started massaging the area that hadn’t been broken, she tried very hard not to think about having sex with him though rejoiced in his capable, long, thick fingers on her skin when they dipped closer and closer to her middle. His other hand gripped her thigh and pressed.
She groaned and closed her eyes, leaned back when tingles of pain rushed down her leg. "I like this Knight, you know, the not cold business one. I understand the receptionist and I don't blame her for wanting attention. If you massage other girl's legs like this, with your strong hands, no wonder there's a harem."
"A harem?"
"Aha, they say you have one."
"Who?"
"Folk."
"I do other things with my hands."
"Like what?"
"I switch bare bottoms that talk nonsense."
Clementine perked up, eyes wide. The town folk talked of clan discipline and it was true!
Knight shook his head. "Nonsense. There isn’t a harem, I'm just a wolf." He moved back, and massaged her calf. "How did you break your leg in two places?"
"Fell off the cliff."
He paused his work and blinked up at her. "You're a bird."
"So?"
"You can fly."
Clementine popped another crust in her mouth and chewed. "My bird and I aren't always in tune with each other and we weren't that night, so I tumbled down before crossing."
When Clementine initiated the cross all was well, but when her dove pushed to cross, Clementine’s skin itched and her bones hurt as if they wanted to splinter to pieces. She loved her animal and understood herself as two parts of one whole. At times rested and at other times frightened, but often, her dove and Clementine's conscious reason desynchronized; one a magic abuser, one magic seldom user. "Do you and your wolf ever want different things?"
"I control my wolf."
Okay then. "Do you think Arthur does?" Fishing for history, she wanted to know what the conversation in the eatery was about and why they fought. According to Arthur, Knight dumped him and now he wanted him back.
"I don't believe he knows his wolf anymore." He placed her foot down, grabbed her hips, and lowered her onto his lap.
Oh!
One hand threaded through her wet hair and gripped the back of her neck. He was rock hard between her legs and she was moist and ready. He searched her face while she was lost in his green eyes, his firm muscles between her bare legs, his big cock on her core. He breathed deep, his eyes half-mast. "I scent you, all of you, you know I can."
"You got me there,” she whispered, “I can just feel yours.”
He brushed his mouth over hers. "You feel so good, you taste even better and I wish we weren't here, but we are sweet bird, we are." He moved to whisper in her ear, "You know what else I smell?"
"No," she breathed while threading her fingers through his soft brown hair.
"Lies."
She froze.
One hand yanked her hair back, the other held her tight to his body. "Shhh, there's no place for lies between me and you because the land will sink, people will die. If you don't help him, I'll have to kill him. Do you get what I'm telling you?"
"I don’t. You’ve got the wrong girl."
"I don't know what you want me to do."
Lips peeled back, he bit her neck. Freezing cold, strong, magnificent magic entered her blood. Her body bent backwards, her dove, who didn’t peep a sound the entire time in the cottage, now hovered on the surface of her mind, spread her wings ready to show him. The reckless bird wanted to meet the wolf, so Clementine fought her back, held her magic away from his.
Dove pushed against Clementine, and magic, like thousands of ants, crawled under her skin. Knight pressed harder, pushed out a wave that froze her blood.
Clementine gasped, lungs arrested. "I can't...can't breathe."
He released her neck more wolf than man. "Show me!"
Her hair lifted about her on the wind, the air in the room suffocated her, her lungs, her body frozen from the cold. Shivers ran up her spine. He gripped her hand and hit his chest with it. "Show me damn you!"
White magic swirled about her, mixed with his and like a vacuum, in a blink sucked in his cold air. Her dove inhaled a breath, fluttered her eyelids, filled, and satisfied. She opened her wings, and pressed against the skin. Clementine shouted, “She wants to leave me!”
Knight held her tight. "Can you call out the wolf? Try!" He shook her shoulders.
His wolf paced, stopped, and peeled back his lips, sharp, long canines on display, red gums angry, ready to battle. Grey pelt erected like a hedgehog's thorns.
She hitched breaths, palmed his face between her shaking hands. "Don't make me do this, he doesn’t want it, I don’t—"
Knight's magic lashed out, the air in the room left. She gasped, white tendrils of her magic like a mist covered his face, trailed down his neck, his bare chest. The green in his eyes swirled, his cheekbones lifted and protruded, and a pair of canines appeared on his bottom lip. Pelt grew under her hands.
When the skin on his face stretched to allow for a muzzle, she ripped his magic from the dove and drove it into her palms, sent it back to the wolf.
Knight snarled and flew at the wall.
Clementine fell back, banged her head on the floor.
The cottage shook, water splashed outside the pond.
Scrambling, she stood on shaky feet, her hair flying about her, her dress lifted. She ran to the door.
Pouncing off the wall, he tackled her.
They tumbled to the floor.
She crossed to dove and shrieked at the top of her lungs.
Knight scrambled to catch her small frame.
Wings spread, she took flight.
He grabbed her small feet in one hand. Her wings batted furiously. She had to leave!
His magic was so powerful and frightening, she never wanted to touch anything like it again. His other hand closed over her wings, trapped them.
She shrieked, her small heart pounded against her chest.
He brought the dove to his lips and stroked the soft feathers on her chest like he did with the dove he’d bought at the market, his thumb a lightweight over her heart, her feathers. Clementine struggled to breathe, her beak half open, red tongue hung on the side trying to get air into her lungs.
He cooed, green eyes satisfied. "Don't be afraid." He brought his nose to her wing and inhaled.
"Peep."
“Of all the magic in the lands, none can use Arthur's land and none calls my wolf. She pretends to be a gifted illusionist and sells fucking lamps in the market. In bundles. Un-fucking-believable. Right under my nose. Do I seem like a fool to you?"
"Peep!"
"Is that a yes?" he smirked.
Oh, he thought this funny. She peeked up at him, craned her neck like birds did.
Dove pressed to his chest as he stroked her wings. "I'm a little angry with you, and my wolf is hungry, now that he saw what I suspected." He swiped his tongue over his upper lip.
"PEEEEEEP!!!"
"Don't worry, it'll all be alright." From the pocket of his pants, he pulled out a string of thin rope, already knotted and ready for a bird’s leg. "Your sister is a liar too, said all her birds are well behaved. And you? Not well behaved at all. I'm gonna fix that."
Clementine was trapped.
"We rest," he said, and dropped on the bed, dove nested on his chest.
"Peep."
EIGHT
Clementine grew up believing it was simply the nature of the Nightlands where the flowers glowed, water flowed against its own current, and rampion blossomed because it went wild by accident. But it wasn't, the men and women who held primal sources, governed the magic of the Nightlands. Arthur ruled the land. Knight ruled the air. Their animals were the primal sources and the tales of their powers were true.
"A water one will drown you if you don't brush your teeth, Clementine!" Mother used to repeat what her mother told her when she was a child. According to tales, long ago, before Clementine's grandmother was born, Nightlands warred with Daylands for world dominion. Tales said that in their quest to rid the Nightlands of the Daylander’s occupation, those with power nearly destroyed the planet and sent it off its path, or as the science of Daylands called it, an orbit.
After the war, common folk regarded them as destructive and unstable, and the belief in the star replaced the belief in primal magic. Desperate folk found a new faith, found unity under one star, sought solace in her stable light. They organized, sent missionaries to teach about the star, developed rituals of worship, and this belief saved the lands.
Even though Daylanders didn't ritualize the star, they accepted the common ground between the two peoples, one with ethereal days and the other with ethereal nights. They lived side by side in peace under one star that shone bright on the other side of the planet. Just now Clementine uncovered why the Clan didn't believe in the star. It was because they preserved their true origins.
When folk turned to the star they erased the truth and the primal sources became nothing more than nature’s magic and stories for kids. Clementine didn’t believe in them.
Knight Borski was a descendant of the very people accused of nearly killing all life. Was history repeating itself or was it just one who'd gone astray? Arthur lost balance with his wolf and the land suffered and Knight in rule of the air, hunted him with a bird that could rip into his source, make it all go away.
But, if Arthur, a powerful alpha male crossbreed couldn't control his magic with his wolf's imbalance, what was she to do with it? The primal source couldn’t disappear. What was she to do with a wild wolf or the man? If she reached inside and made him sleep, drained his magic for a while…She shuddered at the thought of the force needed to separate the magic from the wolf. She feared the wild wolf, and with reason. The land was dying, and these roads the carriage climbed to Cole's were unrecognizable. She hoped Arthur didn't make his way below and into the town. "I've used Arthur's magic for the lilies the entire time, that's why I'm here," she said.
As Knight guided the horses, Clementine’s shoulders sagged. Oak trees with trunks the size of her cottage lined both sides of the narrow road, their leafless branches sagged, deprived of life. Rotten nature replaced the pretty flowers, the green shrubs, and small animals that inhabited the gardens. Even purple rampion didn't grow here. Nothing grew down this road, everything rotted, the smell unbearable as if someone left a bundle full of flowers in a vase for an entire starlight then tried to empty the water. Her stomach rose, and she gaged then covered her mouth with her hand.
"Don't think about it," Knight said, and wrinkled his sensitive nose.
The horses raised their hoofs like they were made of lead, heavy and burdened. They huffed loudly, shook their heads.
"When your mother was on her way down to town I saw her,” Knight said then chuckled. “I remembered the lamps from her house when I’d visited with her late last winter. I wondered about them. Arthur might remember too if he is with himself for a moment, and he'll put two and two together if he hasn't already. Don't think you can go back to the market and pretend like nothing is wr
ong. All is wrong, Clementine, all is wrong."
"Why did you visit with her?" Dread, pure dread pooled in her stomach. It hadn’t been for the food. She knew it hadn’t.
Knight batted the leafless branches out of his way and encouraged the frightened horses ahead. When they stopped dead in their tracks, he stood, bent his knees, and jumped over the horses onto the ground in a single leap. The Night of the Wolf was upon them, and Knight was becoming stronger. He released the horses and with one whack over their necks sent them back. He walked to the carriage and grabbed their backpacks then came around. "We go on foot from here." He extended his hand to help her down.
Her boots hit the soft ground then stomped passed him.
He growled and walked behind her, his boots squishing the rotted leaves.
The hell with him, he held back information she wanted to know. One foot in front of the other, her boots dug into the ground, reddish brown slime stuck on the leather.
A hand landed on her shoulder.
She spun around and looked up at his chin. It nudged. "You aren’t paying attention to your surroundings."
She walked away.
"Don't be stubborn."
She kept walking.
"We were interested in business predictions with the Daylands trade," he started, catching up with her. "Went to your mother after our seer moved away, and got more than we paid for." He lifted his boot and picked up a fallen oak leaf from the sole. He rubbed his thumb over the brown slimy leaf and considered the bed of fallen leaves in what was once a pleasant part of the garden with thick trees. Knight was alert, careful.
Clementine wished to run through these parts, so she walked faster. "Yes?"
"Arthur, she prophesied, would challenge me for the Nightlands lead. He told me he didn’t believe her, but he went back and paid her for more. She told him more of his future. After, I visited with her and forbid her from telling any other clan member their future."