Season of the Wolf Pt. 02

My wolf is a predator by nature and he's eaten his share of bunnies, squirrels, and whatever critter doesn't move fast enough to get out of his path. I assume if there are other shape shifters, it works pretty much the same way. I swallow back the bile rising in my throat out of sheer revulsion over the possibility that vampires could exist.

In nature there's always a balance. Vampires have no place in the natural order of things. And yes, I know it's a far stretch to see where shape shifters fit into Mother Nature's hierarchy. But, as for vampires, I can see no practical use for them at all. They're an abomination that shouldn't exist, if they do exist. But, I'm sure there are plenty of humans who'd think the very same thing about me, if they knew the truth.

I'm avoiding thinking about Grace by concentrating on the possibilities that truly weird shit does exist. I'm hiding from my battered emotions. I'm burying my ancestors' betrayal underneath layers of plausibility. I'm trying to keep my ass planted in this tiny room instead of pounding on Grace's door. I'm trying and I'm trying too hard to be human for her sake. My wolf wants to clam what's his and that's her, but I gave her my word and I intend to keep it.

As pack master it's my job to make contact with these wolves. Christine is the only link I have to her pack. They've hidden for centuries, just as my pack has and without her I doubt I'd be able to find them. Christine's pack has been out here in the real world and my pack has been isolated in a bubble constructed of folklore and lies. It's obvious we can exist in the outside world and I owe it to my pack to find out how to do it.

Once I reveal this truth to the pack. There will be no going back. None of our lives will ever be the same. Some will leave and others will stay. Perhaps, new pack will come and join us and we'll live as one. Yeah, that's a nice theory. But, I have to consider the dangers too. If there's a pack here, there are other packs out there and we're all scrabbling for a foothold in a world humanity can't know exists.

I'm bringing a child into this new era. The thought of it fills me with dread. I'm happy, of course, but I'd be a lot happier if Grace and my unborn baby were home where they belong instead of out here in the human world where there's so little I can do to protect them. My paranoia knows no boundaries and I'm envisioning every human I've come across as a supernatural being in disguise.

Fuck my promise to Grace. I have to protect her from everything. Humans themselves can perpetuate unspeakable acts against their own and it's dangerous enough without adding the possibility of vampires and were lions, tigers, and bears lurking around every corner.

I'm on the balcony and balancing on the rail. The jump to her balcony is simple and I land softly on the balls of my feet. Cold rain splatters against my face. I spot her through the sheer curtains covering the sliding glass patio doors. My heart stops at the sight of Grace wrapped in nothing but a towel. Her wet hair is wound up into a loose bun revealing a long, slender neck. My wolf growls in longing at the sight of her as she sits daintily on the side of the bed.

She's talking to Coyote. Part of me is deeply injured that Grace feels she can turn to him instead of turning to me. Thanks to my enhanced sense of hearing and the open patio doors I'm able to listen in on her conversation. Coyote is working his magic. He's not belittling Grace by any means, but he's putting it out there for her in a way that only he can manage. If I took that tone with Grace, I'd be wearing my balls for earrings by the time she got done with me. But, Coyote, as only he can, gets away with it.

Whatever Coyote has said puts Grace at ease and I see her body begin to relax. No doubt, he's given her plenty of things to think about. I'm angry with Coyote for not telling me his suspicions about the wolves, but I get why he didn't. He wanted Grace to decide things for herself and I wouldn't have given her that option. I would have focused on the danger and not the fact that she's lived among pack her entire life. I would have risked everything to protect her. And I wouldn't have given Christine or her pack any credit for the role they've played in keeping her safe. I would think, as I do now, standing in the rain and getting thoroughly soaked, that nobody could protect her better than me.

Grace ends the call with a promise to Coyote. Coyote's part in this suddenly makes perfect sense. He wants her to find his mate. After two hundred years of forced celibacy, I get that. The wanting of her was killing me. It wasn't that I didn't find other women attractive. I did. It was just that no matter how pretty or how appealing, there was only one woman destined to be for me.

I'm standing in the rain in plain view. There's nothing but the distance between the bed and the balcony separating us. I can't keep my promise to her. I can't give her space. I need her. And if I thought the wanting of her was agonizing before now it's tearing me apart. Her lips part as she spots me. I can feel the promise of her kiss burning me alive. "I'm sorry," I say and I mean it. I'm crossing the room and gathering her in my arms. "Grace, I can't stay away."

She's kissing me back with fury that matches mine. Her hands are on me seeking me out. I'm tearing the towel free from her body in my desperation to feel her, really feel her bare skin against mine. Grace is breathless in my arms and her mouth pressed against mine. "I can't either," she pants. "I know I should tell you to go until I've figured this out, but I can't."

Chapter 12

I knew Han wouldn't stay away. I hadn't expected to see him standing on my balcony, but I knew once he found out where I was. He wouldn't be too far away. I should be pissed that he has barged into my room and that he has his hands on me. Kissing away what little remains of my resolve and overwhelming me with his presence, I have no fight left in me. I mean it when I tell him I can't tell him to go. I don't have the strength.

Han's skin is cool and damp from the rain. Beads of raindrops roll off of his soaked clothing and fall onto me. I scarcely notice the chill for the fire burning me from the inside out. Instinctively I know this man is all I've ever needed. His mouth on mine is the comfort of home and hearth. I can't fight the rightness of it, of his heat, his taste, and the feel of his body pressing against mine.

His fingers work the knot holding my towel in place. Trembling and urgent, Han's calloused fingertips stroke my soft skin. I'm hardly in a position to protest. Not only am I scrabbling desperately to peel his wet clothing off. I'm reveling in the gentle sweep of his palms over my bare breasts. I hadn't realized how quickly I'd become accustomed to his touch and the surety of his presence in my life. I've missed him more than I've dared to admit to myself.

I'm clawing at Han's belt buckle in my urgency to get to the very heart of him. Han like the gentleman that he is stills my hands and takes over the task. He grunts, and it's a very masculine sound, as his erection springs free and I resume the job of undressing him.

Common sense dictates that I should stop this from going any farther. That what we're about to do isn't fair to either one of us. I need to tell him what I want for him. I want him to be happy and to have choices and that I want the same happiness and choices for myself. I've scarcely begun to come to a peace with the reality of who and what I am. But, kneeling in the shadow of this magnificent man, peeling his jeans and boxers down his lean hips and working so desperately to free him of the burden of his clothing, the words fail me.

Han is beautiful in a rugged masculine way that men strive for but few manage to achieve. To him, such beauty is effortless. It's not just what his DNA gave him in terms of his dark hair, long lean muscular legs, broad chest, and those indescribably shaded hazel eyes. It's not in his honed muscles earned honestly from decades of working the farm. It's him...all of him...just simply who he is.

I run my hands up his firm calves marveling in the contrasting softness of the brown hair covering them. His thighs flex beneath my fingertips as I work my way up higher. I want to touch and explore every inch of him. I can see how much battling for control is costing him. I don't want him in control. I want this man undone. As wild and desperate as he's made me with nothing more than a kiss and a promise of more.

I pause in my exploration of skin to study his erection. Strange, I had never thought of a man's penis as a thing of beauty, but Han's is capable of inspiring song and works of poetry and art. He is so hard. I see the bluish bulging veins beneath the thin covering of his foreskin and the blush of the ripe head practically ready to burst. I haven't even hazarded to touch him yet and his cock is twitching and a bead of moisture glistening at the tip from nothing more than sheer anticipation.

His desire surges through me and makes me bold. Han's rock hard abdomen sucks in tight from the breath he's holding as I lick my lips and lift my eyes to meet his. I don't know what Han sees when he looks at me, if I paint a pretty picture kneeling at his feet. Not only do I feel beautiful with the heart and soul of a man laid bare for my view. I'm empowered. I've always seen myself as plain and ordinary, but Han makes me feel extraordinary.

I'm brazen and daring. Han mutters a curse, or maybe it's a prayer, as I cup his sac and balance the weight of it in my palm. Everything that has to do with this man is a study in contrasts, hard and soft, firm and pliant, demanding and yielding, man and beast, intellect and instinct, and past, present, and future. I marvel at the textures and at the balance Han has somehow managed to achieve in his life.

His patience with me is costing him. I can feel it in the quiver of his muscles and I see it in the determined set of his jaw. For my sake, my human side, he wants to be gentle. His efforts remind me exactly how far from humanity the two of us actually are. I decide I don't need the gentle male tonight. This isn't time for the two of us to play human. Under the cover of darkness and shadow and in this bubble of privacy and intimacy, we can be exactly who we are.

I take the tip of him into my mouth and swab my tongue over the ripe head tasting his saltiness. A growl of hunger echoes through Han's chest. His hands find their way into the tangle of my dark hair and grip brutally at the long strands. In his battle to maintain control, he tries to end my assault. But, I'm licking and sucking and he is lost to it. His hips buck and I adjust my pace to mach the rhythm.

The room fills with the essence of wolf musk and sweet desire. My wolf is prancing in my head like a prize winning show dog. I can sense Han's wolf barely contained beneath the surface of his human skin. The magic of his alpha power floods over me as the shreds of Han's humanity fall away.

It doesn't seem to matter that we're in a cheap hotel room doing what probably hundreds of other couples have done in the same bed. Han grips my hair mercilessly and hauls me to my feet. The raw hunger and masculine desire reflected in his eyes consumes me. I want him to feast on my kisses, slake his thirst at my fountain, and sate his hunger with my flesh.

He claims my mouth ruthlessly, his tongue probing my depths and demanding my complete surrender. I know he tastes the saltiness of himself on the tip of my tongue. Tasting his essence and smelling his scent on my skin has Han growling in approval. I'm off my feet and on my back with him between my thighs and returning the favor before I could manage any protest.

Words are useless and I wouldn't have the ability to speak them even if I did know what to say. The tickle of his soft hair against my thighs and the heat of his breath on my most sensitive parts is my undoing. His tongue laps and teases at my clit and his fingers slide into my depths. I can barely manage to gasp in pleasure let alone say anything except for his name.

Han is very good at reading my body and interpreting the secret messages it sends. He increases his pace at exactly the right time. Applying just the right amount of pressure he pushes me hard and fast, chasing my orgasm like a wolf on the hunt. Pleasure surges through me burning paths from my clit to the tips of my toes and the top of my head. I'm close, so close, but I'm trying to hold back. I don't want it to end so soon. Han, in his pursuit of my pleasure has found a spot I didn't even know I had. He takes his time exploring and exploiting the sensitive tissue to his advantage.

I'm open and exposed, my thighs forced wide by the broadness of his shoulders. Whimpering and scrabbling so hard to maintain my control, I lose the battle and shatter into a million pieces. But, I shouldn't have worried about it. Han is there to gently and sweetly put me back together again.

It's no surprise that Han gives me no quarter and doesn't hesitate to take full possession of his prize. His weight pinning me against the mattress is a welcome thing. His entry, sleek and smooth, the joining of our bodies as one is the joy of receiving presents on Christmas morning and the celebration of making wishes and blowing out birthday candles on a pretty frosted cake.

Han gives me time to adjust to his size before pursuing our mutual pleasure in earnest. He's big and fills me completely. I love the stretch and slight burn of feeling him inside of me. The slow glide of flesh against flesh is torture for us both. I want more and spur him on by digging my nails into his shoulders. He shoots me a crooked and mischievous grin leaving me no guess at which one of us is truly in control. He intends to drive me crazy and to take his own sweet time going about it.

He wants me to offer my throat in complete surrender and I do. Lifting my chin I sigh as he nuzzles the tender flesh with his soft lips. He marks me with a series of sharp bites along me collarbone and neck. Han wants there to be no confusion about who I belong to. Though we both know it. He wants the world to see. I belong to him.

The bruising punishment of his teeth has me wet and gasping. Han claims my body as easily as he claimed my lips. I buck against him, pursuing my orgasm, encouraged by his breathy growls and lust tinged whispers. He is there with me, grinding his molars and trying to squeeze everything out of this moment that he can.

Our wolves dance at the borders of our minds. They already know what they want. They've already chosen each other and the shells that contain us...the human parts of us... are perhaps nothing more than victims of their shared desire. At this point Han and I are too far gone to care about nature versus nurture, choices or lack of them, lies and truths. There is the smack of bodies seeking out pleasure and nothing, not even what happens when the heat is spent and we're left to sort out the aftermath of the mess we've created and found ourselves victims of, matters beyond that.

My orgasm is a brilliant thing of flashing light and surging electrical impulses. Han towers over me, pressing me for more and chasing his own release. He smiles down at me with the enthusiasm of kid on his first trip to Disneyland. My God, this man loves me and it's terrifying. But, what's worse is the terror of my own love for him. The two of us could, if that love ever fails us, tear one another to shreds.

It's too late for fear. Han already holds my heart in his grip just as I hold his. I surrender my body into his safekeeping and hold the trust that he has in me close to my chest. We're pressed body to body, sweating and panting, giving and taking pleasure, and whispering kind and loving words to one another. I fall apart again and he falls with me. We land in a tumble of tangled limbs locked together in an embrace and the heady and terrifying knowledge that no matter what we do or where we go there's truly no turning back for either of us.

Chapter 13

It's amazing how quickly a man can pass out into a post-coital coma. Han is fast asleep. He's curled up on his side facing me with an arm draped tightly around my waist. Our legs are tangled and his toes flex and curl as he dreams. Every inch of our bodies touch somewhere. His chin lightly rests against the top of my head and his cheek is buried in the soft length of my hair. Han's muscled chest is curved tightly into my shoulder and our hips and thighs rub together. We're even sharing the same lumpy pillow and corner of a washed thin blanket. It's almost as if he's afraid that if he doesn't keep a hold on me, that if he doesn't maintain our skin to skin contact, I won't be here beside him when he wakes up.

His body is heavy and hot against mine. We're sleeping...well, he's sleeping in a king sized bed and I'm hovering precariously on the edge. I'm awake and staring at the water stains on the ceiling. I try to steal an inch of space and end up tugged even tighter against him for my trouble. The closeness is stifling and confining. I'm on the verge of panic from how tightly he's holding me. I endure it and chastise myself that I should be sighing like the well loved girl I am instead of grinding my teeth and trying to root Han off of me.

Once again, damn Coyote for being right in his assessment of me. I am a poor little rich girl. Not only am I wealthy. I'm rich in all the things that really matter. I have a man who loves me in my bed, friends on my side, and a family I didn't even know I had when I thought I truly had no one. I truly have nothing to whine about. My deficiencies and insecurities stack themselves layer upon layer on top of me. I've inherited so much more than just a home and land and money. It isn't just that I've got Han or Christine or so much family in my life. It's what comes on the tails of this newly found bounty. I've inherited a legacy and I'm not sure if I can live up to all the expectations everyone has of me.

I rest my hand on my stomach and remind myself that soon, very soon, I'm going to become a mother. Out of all the people I could disappoint. I can't disappoint the unborn child growing inside of me.

I used to think life was unfair when I had empty pockets and I saw the glittery beautiful people of L.A decked out in their finest, driving fancy cars, and living beautiful perfect lives in mansions on top of distant hills. They were eating lobster while I ate bologna. I could be one of those people. Now, as opposed to then, I could certainly afford it.

Life is still unfair. Han used to accuse me of viewing the world around me but not really seeing it. He opened my eyes to a great many things and I see the world for what it is with absolute clarity. Money makes life easier, but it doesn't necessarily make it happier.

My financial worries are over, but a dozen other things to worry about have taken their place. There's Han, the baby, the pack, Christine, and the promise I made to Coyote topping the list. What am I going to do? I'm convinced that I have to act in everyone else's best interests while at the same time protecting my own. I don't want to lose myself in Han or this world I'm suddenly a part of. I realize that's my biggest fear, that the wolf inside of me will swallow me whole. That Han will consume me with his love. That this world will suck me down. And as for the baby, that I'll be responsible for another life and somehow I'll no longer be me but someone's mom.

Han came into my life with the subtlety of a freight train. It isn't that I'm incapable of love or not deserving of it. I simply wasn't ready for it yet. It's too late to run. I will be here when Han wakes up and the day after that and after that. My decision has nothing to do with the baby. Han would be a father to our child whether I was in the picture or not. I know him too well to think otherwise. But, before we settle into whatever twisted version of happily ever after we end up living, whether it is together or apart. I have things to resolve for certain in my own mind. Loving him is my choice and I have to know beyond any shadow of a doubt that I am his.