The Wolf

by Jean Johnson

  Wolfer gasped, his head arching back, and convulsed in her, pressing hard and close and full. His seed spurted inside even as he convulsed and pounded into her. Somewhere in there, he hit something inside of her, something that triggered a flash flood of her own pleasure in a series of deep shudders that seemed to go on and on and on as they bucked together, rumpling the bedding beneath them. When Alys could think again, he was still pushing into her—slowly, but still going, still shaking in little shudders that made her flesh quiver with pleasure. Finally, Wolfer ceased all motion, save for his unsteady breathing. Still buried inside her, he sighed heavily, letting his sweat-slick forehead droop against the curve of her shoulder.

  She couldn’t breathe very well. He was bigger and heavier, made of solid muscle mass, and she needed to breathe. But contradictorily, she liked the feeling of being squished under him. Thankfully, just before she absolutely had to ask him to, he moved. With a soft moan, Wolfer pulled out of her and shifted to the side. His right arm draped across her ribs, just under her breasts, and his left one propped up his head. Golden eyes regarded her from under sleepy, half-closed lids as he made that sound again. The deep one that made her ache to curl up against his broad, muscular chest and feel it vibrating all around her.

  “Mmm . . .” His large palm cupped her breast; his thumb rubbed her satisfaction-softened nipple. It pebbled under his touch. The sleepy look changed slowly, picking up an unnerving, rather predatory gleam. “I can see it will take a lot more than this to satisfy you. First while riding my back, then on the floor of my bedroom, now in my bed itself—”

  Alys buried her blushing face in his chest, making him laugh. “You knew?”

  Wolfer knew what she was referring to. “I have the nose of a wolf, remember?”

  He slid his hand down over her ribs, her stomach, to the curls at the apex of her thighs. As she twitched, he dipped his finger down along the edge of her folds. Scooping up a little trickle of moisture, he brought it back up again, glistening with what they had done together. There hadn’t been much in the way of blood spilled, for all that she had been a maiden; at least, there didn’t seem to be much on his finger. No doubt he would find a stain later.

  It pleased him to see her nostrils flare, her chest expand, drinking in the scent of their pleasure. The whole room smelled of sex, musky and sweaty and pungent-sweet. “We smell even better together, don’t we?”

  She blushed again, but his direct statement made her bold. Catching his wrist, Alys leaned closer and licked at the moisture on his fingertip. It was very daring; not only were her juices on his finger, but some of her maiden’s blood, too. She wanted him to know she didn’t regret what he had done for her, not even the pain of it. Not when it had been so enjoyable in the other moments.

  “Whoa!” Wolfer stared wide-eyed at the woman lying on her side with him. He didn’t need to glance down to know what the amazing, daringly erotic gesture did to him. A moment later, when his engorging rod brushed her thigh, she glanced down to see what had happened. Wolfer slowly grinned. “Well, it seems I’ve picked a mate as adventurous and insatiable as I am.”

  Alys reached down, hesitated a moment, then gripped him gently. She felt as well as saw him shudder. The groan dragging from deep in his throat made him tip his head back, telling her without words that he liked her fingers on him. She looked back down at his erect flesh. This thing of his, this manhood, had given her much more pleasure than she could have imagined any man could give a woman with such a funny-looking thing.

  Even she knew that the pain of a maiden’s first time would fade within a day or two, and Cari had reassured her it would then be nothing but pleasure. If the man knew what he was doing. Luckily, she now had plenty of faith in Wolfer knowing what he was doing. Experimentally, Alys tested the softness of the sliding cowl of skin at the tip of his shaft; her thumb traced the hardness of the little ridge defining the head, and brushed over the damp dimple at the very top, as he had brushed his thumb over her nipple.

  “Jinga! And I used to think you were innocent!” Wolfer muttered, catching her wrist as her explorations excited him faster than he wanted to go. His own words reminded him of her lost innocence. Of the incredible moment when he had sunk into her—of the blood still staining his shaft, down at the base. That was where it had gone. The thought of the pain she had suffered deflected his arousal with his concern. “Alys, I didn’t . . . I’m sorry. Let me check you and make sure you’re not badly hurt, all right?”

  He was already moving as he said it, pushing her back into the bedding. Making Alys nervous as he settled between her thighs. Very nervous, when he parted her feminine folds and examined her intimately but not sexually in the clear light of day. “Wolfer!”

  “Jinga, you’re still bleeding!” Feeling like a brute, Wolfer breathed the words of a minor healing spell over her most intimate core. The seeping of her blood ended as her rose-pink flesh mended. Grateful, he pressed a tender kiss to her flesh. He noticed that made her squirm and sigh. Licking his lips, Wolfer moved back up over her. Resting on his side, he pulled her back up against him, into his arms. “It won’t hurt nearly as bad next time—it wouldn’t have hurt nearly this much, if you weren’t so tiny in comparison.”

  “I’m bigger than Kelly,” Alys pointed out, her voice half-muffled by his shoulder.

  “I hadn’t noticed,” he admitted honestly. When she tipped her head back to look at him, he shrugged. “I simply do not notice anyone else when you’re in a room with me.”

  “Oh, Wolfer . . .” The look she gave him would have melted anything right along with it. Her fingers lifted, tracing the contours of his face. She could feel the slight rasp of stubble along the underside of his jaw and around the edges of his mouth. “I feel like I’m in a dream.”

  Wolfer leaned in and kissed the slight pinch of her brow. “Then why are you frowning?”

  “Because I’m afraid it’s a nightmare,” she confessed quietly, studying his chest.

  That piece of feminine logic puzzled him. “Making love with me is a nightmare?”

  “Waking up to find it was a dream would be the nightmare.”

  “Rest assured, this is not a dream,” Wolfer told her, lifting her chin so that she had to look up at him. That made the silver diamond just below her collarbone flash with light, drawing his attention to it. Reminding him that her uncle had not only stolen the County of Corvis, but quite probably had laid spells on the woman in his arms so that she could be found and brought back . . . and resold to the highest bidder. “Alys . . . do you like your Uncle Broger?”

  Gray eyes flew up to golden, wide with shock. “You must be joking!”

  Wolfer grunted in satisfaction. “Good. Then you wouldn’t mind it if I killed him.”

  He might have just been jesting, but Alys lost all color in her face. She caught the hand still lifting her chin by his knuckle, held his fist tightly in her own. “Promise me you won’t do that, Wolfer. Promise me!”

  Her seriousness made him frown. “Why should I promise that? If he treated you badly, then he doesn’t deserve to live,” he stated seriously, soberly. “The moment he gives me an excuse, I won’t hesitate to retaliate. He is a poisonous snake, and you don’t allow a poisonous snake to live when it threatens you, or someone you love.”

  Alys shook her head, closing her eyes. “He has spells that are set to release powerful magics in spellbound revenge against whoever kills him. I overheard him discussing it with Uncle Donnock one day. I might have killed him myself, but for hearing that. But, I’m not . . . I’m not brave enough to die.”

  “You are one of the bravest people I know—” Wolfer returned, trying to soothe her, but she shook her head, burying her face against his chest once again, this time to hide her fears as she wrapped her arms around him.

  “No, I’m not! I’m weak,” she said, clinging to his warmth for comfort, breathing in his scent.

  She was driving him crazy again, this time with her protestations. Sighing, Wolfer
gathered her closer and rolled onto his back, nudging her torso and limbs into place over his body. He stroked her springy hair, escaping its braid haphazardly.

  “I don’t care what you think you are, Alys. You can be anything you want to be—I’ve seen you become anything you wanted to be, remember? You were brave for me when we were children . . . but you’ve also been brave for yourself. And even if it drives me crazy sometimes, I love you whether you’re timid or fearless, frightened or brave.” He kissed the top of her head and slid his hands down her bare back. Cupping her buttocks, he held her against his half-aroused flesh. She probably needed a distraction from her current line of thought; luckily, he had one in mind. “What was the name of that wench you spoke with?”

  Alys dredged it up, answering his question and its change of topic. “Cari . . .”

  “Mm. Cari. Did this Cari ever mention anything about a woman being on top of a man when they make love? Because Saber was telling me that’s his favorite way when he and Kelly make love, and I figure whatever’s good enough for my twin should be good enough for me.”

  She couldn’t help the short laugh that escaped her at the thought that crossed her mind. “Does Kelly know your twin has talked to you about him and her like that?”

  Wolfer stilled. “You aren’t thinking of blackmailing me, are you?”

  “You? No,” she admitted truthfully, lifting her head and propping herself up on his chest with an elbow. “Now, Saber . . .”

  Wolfer caught her and rolled them over, pinning her under him with at least some of his weight carefully on his knees and elbows as he mock-glared down at her. “You will not attempt to blackmail my twin for anything! You will come to me with everything you need.”

  He leaned down and nipped at her lips with his own, punctuating his words.

  “I will provide you with every opportunity to be timid and brave, to explore the world and be sensually satisfied. I will protect you and help provide for you. And for our children when we have them. I will teach you how to be a wolf in both body and spirit, so you can run fearless and free at my side.” His golden eyes met her gray ones. “You are mine, Alys, and I am yours. You don’t need anyone else. Especially not Morganen!”

  “Morganen?” Alys asked, uncertain what he meant.

  “I saw the way you greeted him—you are in love with me, not him,” he growled. As if he could make it so just by saying so, the bite of jealousy nipping at his heel.

  “Morganen?” she repeated, this time incredulously. “I love him like a brother! Like a dear friend,” Alys added honestly. “But I don’t love him like I love you, Wolfer, and that’s the truth. He knows this, I know this—you are the only one who apparently doesn’t! You have no reason to be jealous of him!

  “He is simply my friend,” she repeated, seeking to convince him so that he didn’t try to kill his youngest brother with the fierce, protective jealousy of a wolf. She touched her silver-studded chest with one hand, and touched his unornamented breastbone with the other. “You are my heart. You always have been.” Slipping her hands up to his face, she stroked back the curtain of his soft brown hair. “I think I loved you even before I was three, and skinned my knee.”

  Her tenderness enthralled him as surely as any spell. More surely. It warmed his heart, which heated his loins, and a sound of pleasure rumbled from his chest. “Remind me to kiss your knee, later.”

  “Why later?” she asked, puzzled.

  Wolfer smiled slowly and used his own knee to nudge her thighs apart. They parted readily enough for him, proof she was willing to ride with him once again. “I think that healing spell I used has made you all better . . . but there’s only one real way to find out. So it’ll have to be much later.”

  “Wolfer!” Blushing, Alys hid her embarrassed pleasure by tugging his mouth down to hers. If they were kissing, he wouldn’t see her skin turning pink. He had other ideas, and barely brushed her lips before moving down. He kissed the metal diamond embedded in her skin, then the curves of her breasts, shifting down her body a little to reach them.

  “I love the way even these turn pink when you blush . . .” He took a beading nipple in his mouth and gave it a long, slow, lascivious lick.

  “Wolfer!”

  He just loved the way she said his name in the rising tide of her desire, a protest that was no protest at all. Wolfer decided he would make love to her until she had said it a hundred times more. And then make love to her all over again, just to be sure.

  ELEVEN

  Before we begin trading,” Melkin, the captain of the trader ship stated, “I want to know what that fracas was about and why you insisted my men put that man back on board my ship again.”

  Saber wished he could strangle his twin, just for a moment. Mainly for leaving him to somehow explain this mess. “He is neither kin nor friend. You and the other traders who come here know we’ve been plagued by mage-sent beasts; sometimes you sleep in the Chapel so that its protective spells shelter you when the trading goes late, though we do everything we can to clear out the invasions before your visits. We . . . well, we believe he was here to get a scrying-fix on this island.”

  The trader-captain was no fool; unlike other Katani, who might feel glad to see the brothers dead, he knew his trade visits were very profitable. Nightfall products, crafted by the powers of the exiled mage-brothers, had a reputation for high quality. That high quality meant better profit than anything else that might be similar in make and purpose elsewhere, but of lesser duration, power, and construction. The shorter man spat to one side, expressing his opinion on the matter. “He won’t get on my ship again, then. I’ll see to it that the word is spread among the others. No visitors without your clearance. I’d hate to lose my best suppliers to someone’s asinine fears.”

  Saber nodded. He glanced at his brothers; there was no better time to relay the change in their trading policy to the sailors. Though there probably wasn’t any good time to do so. “There’s another thing that has happened since the last visit by a trading ship.”

  Captain Melkin raised a brow. “What would that be?”

  “Nightfall has been disavowed from the protection of Katan,” Morganen offered in explanation. “By a member of the Council of Mages, no less, which means ourselves and everything on or around this island is officially disavowed.”

  “Disavowed?” one of the sailors with Melkin asked.

  “They told us we were on our own from here on out,” Koranen informed the other man and his fellows. “Which technically makes us no longer a part of Katan.”

  Saber finished the rest of the news. “There’s more. There is a new authority laying claim to the island, now, and all that is Nightfall. You’ll have to deal with that fact, now.”

  “What could it be, if not Katan?” another sailor-trader asked, puzzled.

  “Nightfall is now an independent kingdom. Which means you won’t be getting the salt and seaweed blocks for free anymore,” Saber explained as blandly as he could.

  That caused an immediate uproar among the sailor-traders. Melkin’s voice cut through the others as he jabbed a finger at them. “Now see here! We come here ’cause the salt is free and cheap, and the green stuff is good to sell, too! What makes you think we’ll be cutting into our profits by having to pay you for what we’ve always gotten for free?”

  Arms folded across his chest, Saber didn’t move. He happened to agree with his wife about this point; the salt was theirs to sell, and they should by their rights as the island’s inhabitants profit from it. “Because it is ours to sell. To you or to others; the choice is yours. Until someone is willing to buy them from us, the blocks will remain ours.”

  “No one will go for that!” Melkin warned him. “Buy the blocks? Not by Jinga!”

  Trevan looked at his fingers idly. “Perhaps not for a few weeks, but as the demand for high-quality salt goes up while no one brings any in, it’ll just be piling up here. And I remind you that autumn is coming. Preserving-season. A lot of people will b
e looking to buy a lot of salt.

  “Eventually, even with our new policy of selling the blocks, whoever comes along will find that the net profit they will make, turning around and selling it on the mainland again . . . well, it will be just too tempting to resist. And when some lucky trader does decide buying it is worthwhile,” he added, glancing up at the men across from him and his brothers, “they’ll have a huge stockpile of salt to buy from us at a bulk rate, and thus sell at a monstrous profit on the mainland.”

  “We don’t have to buy it from you—we can just take it!” one of the sailors asserted, snapping his fingers at the Nightfall brothers.

  Morganen arched a light brown brow, looking very much the righteously arrogant Mage of Prophecy as he folded his arms lightly across his chest. “Take? When the Council of Mages greatly preferred exiling us over attempting to kill us? And I do mean only attempting!”

  Saber cut his hand through the air. “Enough arguing! The price of the salt per block is two gilders.”

  “Outrageous! We only sell it for three! That’s a full two-thirds of our profit,” the trader-captain asserted, scowling.

  “The price for the algae-blocks is also two gilders apiece,” Saber continued smoothly. “Of course, you do not have to decide right away if you want to purchase any. The blocks are enspelled to remain here until we allow them to go, so there will be no chance for you to steal anything, should you not wish to pay. I suggest you think about what you want to do. In the meantime, we can move on to the rest of the trading; that part has not changed in any way, and you are too much of a businessman to let the salt-trade dispute disrupt the rest of this session.” At the sea-trader’s reluctant, scowled nod, Saber started the bargaining. “Now, I have five accuracy-enhanced, enspelled throwing daggers for sale . . .”