ROMANCE: PARANORMAL ROMANCE: Coveted by the Werewolves (Paranormal MMF Bisexual Menage Romance) (New Adult Shifter Romance Short Stories)

by Hawke, Jessa

  I crept stealthily as a robber into the secret depths of his house. I was quiet as one of our critters, opening doors and going through the rooms. One door in particular was locked; I sensed a horrid energy coming off of it in waves, and they almost pushed me bodily away. Fighting through it, I opened the door and the lights of heaven and fires of hell in that moment stopped as I discovered the truth for myself.

  Up above the basement I had just unlocked, I heard a door scrape open and fled like a cat, scrambling through windows and landing on a thorny rosebush that bruised me in multiple places. I ran and ran, not knowing if the teacher saw me or not, ran until I was out of breath and falling, ran until I was safe behind the hill witch’s house underneath the apple tree. I lay there and trembled for what felt like the longest time, willing my knees to stop shaking. It was long past the hour that I usually stayed there. The sun had set, leaving only the start of the darkness all around me. Still it was long before I stood, smoothed out the lines in my dress, and turned.

  Oh the heavens, what I faced when I did so. I did not know how long he had stood there, but the teacher had discovered my spot and waited until I was calm to make himself known. I did not have time to cry out or struggle before he had pinned me to the rough bark of the tree and jammed his hand against my face.

  Who do you think you are, bitch, he snarled, his voice coming to me as if in a dream. Did you think I wouldn’t know you came snooping? Did you really think I would let you get away with it?

  I could not think. I was paralyzed with fear the way deers are in the lights of cars, unable to move a muscle. The tree scraped my back, blooding me, and it was many moments of his heated spittle hitting my face before my senses returned to me and I began to struggle. His voice became clearer now, sifting through my fog.

  “Everyone thinks it was that creature you live with, that thing, and I intend for it to stay that way, understand?” he said, and then suddenly, his mouth was on my neck, biting me savagely, eliciting a horrified whimper from the back of my throat. “Why, you’re a tasty little dish yourself, aren’t you?” he asked, his voice hideously melodic. “Why don’t I show you exactly what I did to the child before I leave you here for your brothers and the hill witch to find? I can’t say you’ll enjoy it, but I know that one of us will.”

  My struggles were no match for him. I could feel tears of fear sting my eyes and his hands pulled my skirts up, baring my thighs to his disgustingly lustful haze. Pinned beneath his heavy bulk, my thoughts turned desperate; he pulled his engorged manhood out and rational thought escaped me completely. I thought only one thing.

  Please, brothers, please. Oh Orion, oh Enoch, oh please, please.

  Hand ripped the teacher off me several seconds before I realized what was going on. I remained pinned to the tree by my own sheer terror as Enoch let out a loud, bestial roar and pummeled the teacher into the ground. One moment of laxity and the teacher ran, ran like the hunted in the woods. Enoch took flight after him, and for many long moments, my thoughts and Enoch’s thoughts traveled as one.

  There were more sensations than anything else. I felt the heat of his rage pulsing through him, the adrenaline of the chase, the redness of the inhumanity of it all. It mixed together, the visions of the broken child and my helplessness against tree as he rained judgment down on the teacher with his fists, one pummel for each time he had hurt those who could not protect themselves, and even after the teacher had ceased to breathe through the bubbles of blood that filled his throat, it was still not enough, for Enoch knew that there was more and more and more that he had done, and that there never could have been a redemption for this man.

  I do not remember the journey home. I know only that Enoch gathered me into his arms and that I lost myself to the darkness, coming to only when Orion swiped at the cuts on my back with the hill witch’s special poultice. When I asked where Enoch was, Orion said nothing, but his face was grim. His hands were covered in poultice and blood, and at first I thought he was hurt, but then I realized the blood was mine, and, as I understood moments later, Enoch’s. The hill witch sat across the heavy oak table from us, her fingertips drumming together in a steady cadence. For many long moments, no one spoke, and there was only the sound of the critters rubbing themselves on her legs.

  Finally, Orion bade me speak and it all came tumbling out. The journey to the teacher’s house, the discovery of the dark truth rocked me senseless. My desperate flight into the woods to escape that darkness, and the tale of Enoch as my savior. When Orion told me what had happened to the teacher, I felt equal parts relief and fear. No more would this man terrorize our small town, but Enoch, what of Enoch? It was the hill witch who broke through our anxious dialogue, broke through like desperate light through a storm, her voice like rough silk, portentous and grave.

  “A great war is rising,” she told us, her eyes shut, the bridge of her nose resting on the tips of her fingers. “Many will not believe that this man, the teacher, was the perpetrator of this terrible crime, and many will turn against us. But you three,” she said, and this is how I knew that Enoch had washed the blood off his knuckles and slipped silently into the kitchen, “You were made to fight this great war.”

  “How?” I asked desperately. Nothing made any sense to me. The hill witch sighed deeply, and with the release of that breath, I felt the true depth of her age for the first time; it shook me to my core because I realized how little time we had left together, truly.

  “There was a prophecy told by the moon oracle which we consult, that I would raise three children not bourne of my body,” she told us that night. “Two men and one woman who herself would become the new witch of the hill, and that one day, they would have to copulate under the rising of the constellations to gain strength for the great war. When I gave that couple their baby, that poor, doomed baby, I knew that it was fated not to live. The prophecy reads that one man who is hard as stone and unmoved by any woman, will soften for the witch he longs for and his brother by name, and that for a blood bond to be formed, the witch girl will lie with them both before the night of the gathering war.”

  “What?” Orion asked, and there was a frisson in his voice.

  Her voice was heavy now. “The prophecy reads that the two men, warriors in another life, must rise again to the greatest challenge of their lives. They themselves will love a new with, a young one with red hair and a calm green heart, abandoned at birth because of her incredible gifts. They are joined by the bond of loneliness, and they will worship each other under the namesake cluster of the stars, forging an unbreakable seal of family. She is their mistress, and they serve her, willingly and forever.”

  Her voice cast a spell on us all and for the first time in many years, I truly looked at Enoch and Orion, at their strong, virile bodies, at their loyal, loving eyes. The hill witch had been right. Earlier had been too soon, and the coming atrocities that we would have to face was what needed to band us together. I stood, feeling the marks in my back sting with pain, and took each of my brothers by the hand. From their palms I felt the pulse of energy and loyalty and knew that I would lie with them both before the night of the gathering war, before we presented to the town the truth of the great tragedy, and that I would not have to face any of this alone. But one thing was still bothering me.

  “What do you mean, abandoned for her great gifts?”

  The hill witch looked at me, and for the first time, I caught a note of tenderness in her wise old eyes. I knew who she was in that moment, knew that I would never have to call her Mother because she was always that and more to me, that we shared something for which there were no words. Still, I asked her with my eyes to reveal all to me.

  “Do you think it was an accident that I discovered you, my dear?” she asked, her voice mellifluous and gentle. “I felt the pull of your cry for many days before I found you, just as I did with Enoch and Orion. You were the one who was meant to carry out this prophecy and to take over my legacy, and the hill witches have always needed their g
uardians. You are all—” here she addressed my brothers— “gifted with incredible powers that your birth parents could not accept. Their fear was stronger than their love, and so they left you to find each other. And you have.”

  As Enoch and Orion lead me into the meadow by the apple tree, I thought about who they truly were. I would have never allowed anyone else to lead me into this place of devastation, but I knew that on this night, beneath the constellation of Orion, as the prophecy foretold, we would cleanse it of the negative energy and it would become our sacred place. Underneath the wash of the moonlight, as they stripped bare, Enoch and Orion transformed. Their incredible strength, the speed they strove for on their motorcycles, how could I not have seen it before? They were warriors, my protectors, and we belonged to each other.

  Enoch looked like a fighter by the light of the moon. His shoulders, broad and strong, looked like they could blot out the night sky. He took me by the hand and pulled me into the warm haven of his naked body. Against my cheek, I felt the soft whisper of the hair on his chest; I pressed my nose into the crook of his neck and breathed in the musky, masculine scent of him. As I drew my lips softly and tentatively against the smooth skin on his neck, I heard him draw in a breath and clasp my body tighter to his.

  Orion, too, had stripped nude, and it was not long before I felt him come up behind me, pressing ever so gently against my marked back, the swell of his glorious manhood between my cheeks. He wrapped his hands against my shoulders, and for many long moments, we did not speak or even truly breath, so hard were our hearts beating against our chests. We were in a safe, warm cocoon where everything was right, where there was an acceptance that we had searched for ever since being expelled from inhospitable wombs, a belonging that we would need to carry us through this journey of many hard times. In that moment, as the heat of their bodies soaked through my clothes and warmed the terrified core of me, we transformed together. Questions and fears melted away underneath the moonlight, answered and proved, once and for all. I lay my head against Enoch’s broad shoulder and Orion lay his curly chestnut head against my neck. Enoch placed his hands on his adopted brother’s back, and our three separate bodies were united into one willing front.

  Enoch stroked Orion’s back, which was leanly muscled and smooth to the touch. I felt Orion swell against my back and knew that I wanted to join in their sensuous game. I skimmed Enoch’s neck with my lips and curled my tongue into the hollow between his neck and jaw, feeling his breath catch and his member rise against me and his chest heave. Enoch, who had never even looked at any of the other women in our town, was opening up to me, allowing me to taste him with my tongue, explore the fantastic proportions of his chest with my hands.

  Orion knelt to the ground behind me and lifted my skirt up my legs, peppering them with lingering kisses that all but liquefied my willpower. He ran his hands again and again over my buttocks, and I groaned against Enoch’s chest, feeling dampness blossom between my legs. I lifted my arms up, and together, Enoch and Orion undressed me. I glowed white in the moonlight, white against the dark, a beacon of light for my two dark warriors.

  With one deft hand, Orion spread my legs and formed heavenly letters with his hand to merge with the shape of me. His thumb and forefinger caressed the C of me, and I leaned my torso against his strong body, slimmer than Enoch’s, and for that, equally beautiful in a new and exciting way. Enoch, in his turn, clasped my face between his hands that threatened to swallow it whole, and kissed me, stinging my lips awake with his own. His palms cradled my neck and traveled down to the bones of my collar, where he turned them to merge with my pulse, spreading his hands over me, above my breasts, to open me, to tantalize me to want more.

  I was hungry, awake in a way I had never been before. I knew now what the men in the town saw when they looked at me, knew that I would never have it with anyone except these two. Enoch tilted his dark head towards my breasts, kissing each one in turn, scooping my rosebud nipples into his mouth and suckling, gently at first, and then, as my fingers sank into the short buzz of his hair, more roughly. I felt the bristles of his hair against my fingers and ran my hands again and again over him, melting like liquid fire into his mouth, feeling my womanhood give in to his masculinity, hearing myself gasp into the night air as he and Orion worked me together, bringing me closer and closer to a bright white light.

  I trembled in the night. Orion slipped a finger into my nether lips and I felt myself tighten around him, an animalistic groan tearing itself from my throat. In that moment, I knew how it had to happen, how the prophecy must be fulfilled. In that moment, I claimed my legacy as the new hill witch, mistress of my protectors, and the one who would help save us all.

  I bade my brothers to sit in the grass and circled them both. There could not have been any talk of shame in the beauty of our bodies. Orion and Enoch were splendid, their cocks long and firm, purple-tipped and extraordinary extensions of their own personal selves. The sight of them excited me, and I knew that in just a few moments when we would all be bodily joined, we would have pleasure and belonging the likes of which we had only dreamed of.

  I stood between them, one hand on each of their shoulders, and felt my long hair finally come undone from my braid. It trailed over my face and fell to the ground as I leaned down and kissed first Enoch on the mouth, and then Orion. Orion wrapped a long strand around his fist and trapped me hungrily against his lips, growling when I tried to pull away. I laughed against his mouth. My hungry warrior. I sank to my knees and teased them both, the softness of my lips against their mouths and chests inflaming them both. I felt their hands trail over my body, grabbing at me with a carnal knowledge that comes to men, women, witches, and warriors from our earliest days. We are born the way we live, after all, in blood, tears, mess, and the bodily closeness that we experience every day.

  I rose before Enoch, who looked at me with the same eyes with which he had released that baby crow all those years ago. He lifted up his hand and as our fingers intertwined, I eased myself onto the hardness of his cock, feeling it slide into me, fill me to the breaking point, and satisfy my nagging emptiness. I rocked my hips back and forth, scarcely knowing from where this knowledge came, and I saw his mouth open wide with the sensation that he received from my notions. I smiled, for I felt powerful. I placed my hand against dark Enoch’s chest and without words, bade him lay flat against the earth so that I could lean over him and expose myself to Orion, who was gathering my hair into his hand. I found that I liked when he pulled at it, for it tugged at the base of my neck, where he was kissing me, driving me absolutely wild.

  My breasts pressed against Enoch’s chest as Orion parted my ass to find my darker entrance. I almost laughed aloud with the glory of it; my dark Enoch, such a brooding man, would enter my light, and then roguish Orion coming over to the dark side. But all laughter was stolen from my lips as Orion entered me, for it was the most incredible sensation in the world. Everything was wet, and my brothers were unified inside the cavern of my welcoming body, separated by only a thin membrane.

  They took turns sliding in and out of my body. I knew that they could feel each other inside of myself, knew the joy it gave them. As they increased their speed, Enoch’s hips pumping up into me, Orion wrapped himself around me, clasping my breasts in his hands so that I could feel the length of his upper body pressed against my back. They fucked me, and I loved that word, loved that I no longer felt the need to control my cries of pleasure, loved that I was helpless to do anything other than feel my breasts shake against their efforts, clasped in Orion’s palms.

  The moment I climaxed lasted forever. It began as a hot, wet heat in my core and spread from my thighs to my nipples. I lost the sense of myself as seconds later, Enoch and Orion exploded their juices inside of me, great hot spurts that soaked me from the inside out. I must have screamed, because Orion’s fingers found themselves inside of my mouth and I sucked reflexively, sucked and sucked as he and Enoch came and came.

  Come morning,
after we had exhausted ourselves again and again in each other’s bodies, I took my brother’s hands in mine as we walked slowly towards our cottage. We had joined by the light of the moon, and to an outside observer, on this, the dawn of the oncoming war, we might have been little other than a queen and her warriors, finally ready for battle.

  THE END

  Badass Ink

  She remembered Tulip before he was Tulip. Long before he turned Goth, he was just a cute guy in a gray T-shirt and pants who nobody would have ever expected her to notice because he flew so far under the radar, he might as well have been Mr. Cellophane.

  That’s not who she was.

  Like it or not, everyone knew Clara. She had a loud mouth and an opinionated mind, and she didn’t care who heard it. But she was raised with a penchant for the underdog and a wild attraction towards talent, both of which would play a role in her fascination with Tulip. Before he was Tulip, he was Alex Floravsky, quiet guy with pale skin, black hair, and deep-set, dark-brown eyes that gleamed black. He carried himself with dignity and carefully, as if he was made of delicate glass that would break at any moment.

  It all changed overnight. Suddenly, Alex was the figure headed towards her in the high school hallway clad in black, platform combat boots and black jeans tight enough to show off his skinny frame. He had not filled out yet, for he was only sixteen. But sixteen can be intense when you’re lining your eyes with kohl and shaving one side of your head to make a statement.

  Clara never knew what statement Alex was trying to make.

  It was all before she knew how he drew. She had pegged him for an artsy type from the way he held a pen in her social studies class, his long, slim fingers wrapped around it like an outlet and a friend. But she lost interest for a while for other, more shiny guys who caught her attention like a magpies’ for over a year. At that time, Cara had crushes on many guys at once, secret crushes that she would rarely whisper in the ear of Emily, her best female friend. Some of the crushes weren’t too bad to share, such as Josh, captain of the football team who asked her for her phone number one glittering October day. But others, like her quiet attraction to Alex, she kept to herself, because she figured nobody but her could see past the buckled leather jacket and antisocial air.