The Wolves of Argonne

Evernight Publishing www.evernightpublishing.com

Copyright© 2012 Kastil Eavenshade

ISBN: 978-1-927368-43-5

Cover Artist: Jinger Heaston Editor: Dana Horbach

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION When I decided to take my writing to a more serious level, I never imagined I’d achieve the level of success I have to this day. I have many people to thank for that. First, I’d like to thank my famiglia. From my parents to my sisters, they’ve cheered me on with every written word I’ve belted out. Grazie mille! Second, without a doubt, has to be my friends from The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pens, with a deep nod at Joce for using her keen eye for me. Lastly, and with all my heart, I give my deepest love and thanks to my husband. Through the madness of me disappearing for hours for writing and edits, he encouraged me in his own special way. You will always be my first and only love.

THE WOLVES OF ARGONNE Naughty Fairy Tales Kastil Eavenshade Copyright © 2012

Chapter One

The needle poked through the red woolen fabric, and Rosabel drew out the satin thread. Her thumb smoothed over the half-complete trailing vines along the hem before plunging the needle back in for another stitch. The design noted her life on the edge of the bustling village of Bois de’Lune. Named for the lush full moon that cradled between the two mountainous peaks, the town celebrated the end of summer with the courting of all young women of age under the fiery orange glow of the harvest moon. Compared to the drab clothing she wore on a regular basis, her cloak shined like the setting sun. To show her purity and status, Rosabel worked diligently for weeks on her crimson cloak and beaded mask. Each detail showed each trial and journey she took to be prepared for womanhood. “It’s beautiful.” Rosabel smiled, looking up from her work. “Thank you, Nana.” Her grandmother’s pale blue eyes lit up as she inspected the work. “Better than my own work at your age. I’m so proud of you.” Snipping of the last hanging thread, Rosabel grinned wider. She couldn’t wait to wear her creation but tradition dictated she donned it only for the festival, and the evening seemed so far away. The chiming of the small clock on the wall brought her from her reverie, and she gasped. “Goodness. I’ll be late for work.” She laid the cloak across the back of her chair, pausing as she saw the trail of tears on her nana’s

cheeks. “Oh, Nana.” Cloak forgotten, she threw her arms around the older woman. “No matter what, you’ll always be a part of my life.” “I can’t believe how fast you’ve grown. I still remember you as a babe in a basket left on my front stoop.” Nana drew in a deep breath while squeezing Rosabel tight. “Don’t worry, Nana. I haven’t forgotten your teachings.” She pulled back and winked. “I shall not fall for the first silver-tongued man to woo me. Nor the second.” Nana chuckled, drying her eyes against her sleeve. “I think, my dear, that you will have them all stuttering fools. Best be getting to the bakery before Mrs. Bonnet thinks you’ve got your head in the clouds again.” “Well, it will be worth it when she sees the amount of berries I've picked.” Rosabel affixed her head covering, a piece of cloth to keep her hair back and the bodice covered. Since she blossomed, a modest appearance was required until the festival at harvest moon. She gave Nana a kiss on the cheek before heading out the door. With her basket in the crook of her arm, Rosabel strutted with pride through the small village near her home. The anticipation of tonight lightened her step and shopkeepers smiled as she passed. Living outside the town in the thick of Argonne Forest made the pool of potential suitors to consider slim. The woods were no place to get caught in after dark and thus far, she knew of no man who had braved it to steal a glimpse of some porcelain-skinned beauty living outside the village. While the festival introduced those of age to marry, Rosabel observed many her age fraternizing with a glance or brush of the hand in the open market. She only hoped to find someone whose heart beat as fierce as hers. Opening the door to the bakery, she inhaled the fresh aroma of sweet treats and hearty breads. “Good morning, Mrs. Bonnet. I’ve found the juiciest patch of blackberries the forest has to offer.” “Rosabel, I thought I told you not to bother to come into work today. You’ve a big night ahead.” The robust woman came out of the back carrying a tray full of small, caramelized rolls and set them down. Rosabel’s mouth watered, the heavenly scent of the sugary snack awakening her appetite. Mrs. Bonnet covered her mouth in delight, a smile spreading. “My Rosabel! You have grown into a woman. Not even your clothes can hide that glow.” She squeezed between the counters and gave

Rosabel a hug. “Now remember, do not be swayed by the first man who kneels at your feet. Make them court you properly.” Rosabel laughed. “You sound like Nana. I’m to bat my eyelashes and smile demurely.” She fluttered her lids and lowered her head before giggling. “The strawberries are almost ripe. I can bring a half a bushel to you in a couple of days.” She set the basket on the counter. “When you have the time. You have other things to worry about. I have some of yesterday’s bread for you to take home.” Mrs. Bonnet handed her another sweet roll. “On the house, dear.” “Thank you.” She bit into it, savoring the flavor. The caramel lingered on her tongue, and she blissfully sighed. “One of these days, I’ll crack your recipe.” The bell to the door jingled as Rosabel shoved the rest of the treat into her mouth and licked her fingers. Her mouth quirked into a half-smile as her fingers danced devilishly close to another roll. Mrs. Bonnet waved at her to take another. “This is so good, Mrs. Bonnet.” Half of the roll disappeared in one bite. “Yes.” A deep reverberating male voice agreed, sounding just a hairsbreadth from her back. “Mrs. Bonnet has a fine bakery.” The hackles on Rosabel’s neck rose as the man stood behind her. Just the closeness of his body caused her skin to prickle and warm. She took her basket, clutching it against her body. Rosabel turned to leave but he blocked her way, a smirk on his face. A golden hue accented his large hazel eyes and his wispy chocolate locks hung loose around his cheeks. Mesmerized, she stood frozen from his penetrating stare. It was as if he peeled away the layers of clothing she wore, leaving her bare for his assessment. He reached up and caressed a strand of her darks curls peeking out of her modesty hood. The smell of pine and fresh flowers clung to his skin. She could not help but inhale the heavenly scent. “Will you be attending the festival, Miss…?” “Rosabel.” Her name slipped out before she could stop herself. Not telling a stranger her name was a rule her grandmother engrained into her growing up but the man captivated her senses. Exotic and mysterious, he intrigued her. “What big eyes you have.” “To better see your beauty, my dear Rosabel.” He flashed his canines as he lifted her hand to his lips. She nearly jumped, her heart

thumping against her chest at his delicate kiss. His teeth accented the wide grin and were stark white against his tanned complexion. As he leaned toward her, he spoke just above a whisper. “I hope your find your mate soon.” She stepped back at his words, her brows knitted together. Mate? “Enjoy the rest of your day.” He moved out of her path but held her attention with a captivating gaze. Butterflies blossomed in her stomach. “Thank you, sir.” She left with a grin at capturing the eye of a handsome man. So lost in his presence, she’d forgotten to get his name. She glanced back to catch another glimpse and bumped into someone. Her basket fell from her grasp. Dropping to the ground, she retrieved her spilt goods. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me.” Her wanton daydreams had stripped her awareness. Looking up, she met the concerned gaze of Mr. Bonnet. His eyes shifted before he leaned in and whispered to her. “Stay away from that man, lass.” The inflection in his tone sent a chill down her spine. “Why?” “He’s one with the forest. A shifter.” Without further explanation, he walked past her. She watched him go, her brows furrowed together. The man in the shop had been a werewolf? She knew of their existence from the stories her grandmother shared and the many wooden carvings around the village depicting them. Some statues were fierce and intimating, others showed respect for the forest. That they walked among the villagers had her searching the crowds for her mysterious man. She’d never met a wolf-shifter before but expected them to be scruffier and uncouth. At least, from the vivid stories her grandmother spun. According to village lore, they tolerated the humans so long as they followed the rules. Argonne Forest housed a pack of werewolves who claimed the land as their own. The night belonged to those who howled not to the ones condemned to walk on two legs. Once the sun set, humans traveled the wooded area at their own peril. As she entered the forest path to find her way home, she enjoyed the tender melody of the birds flitting from tree to tree. The Argonne Forest gave her a sense of peace and tranquility and she loved living far enough in that the bustle of the town never touched her ears. Lovely bright yellow flowers dotted the path, and she took a

few moments to pick a couple to freshen up the cottage. Halfway into her task, she noticed the silence coming over the canopy above and the uneasy feeling she was being watched settled into the pit of her stomach. Rosabel quickened her pace to a near run to reach the edge of her nana’s property. On the other side of the gate, she stopped to catch her breath. A pair of golden eyes glared at her from the bushes. Fear crept in. She ran inside the house, dropping her basket along the way, and slammed the door shut. The familiar scents of the hearth and cawing of the cuckoo clock settled her nerves. Nana rushed from the kitchen and hugged her. “What’s the matter?” “There’s a wolf outside. He was staring at me.” She trembled. “His eyes….” The wolves had never bothered her before. That they expressed interest in her caused concern. What had changed? “Mr. Bonnet warned me in town to stay away from a man I met in the shop.” Tears leaked from her eyes. “Why did you not tell me they walked in the village?” Nana sighed. “Because, my dear, I didn’t want to frighten you. I promised to keep you safe from harm, remember?” “But—” A loud knock shook the front door. “Stay here.” Her grandmother bade her to sit. She slumped down, her hands wringing in the faded brown of her layered skirt. When Nana opened the door, Rosabel’s breath caught in her throat. The man from the bakery stood on the stoop, holding her forgotten basket. “I found this in the yard, Miss Dubois.” Though he was talking to her grandmother, his fixed stare locked onto hers. She couldn’t look away from his mesmerizing hazel spheres. The rush of wind in her hair and the cool ground at her feet exploded in her mind. “Please don’t.” Her grandmother’s voice barely above a whisper, Rosabel noted the hint of fear in her pitch. “She’s all I have.” “I’m just returning the basket. For now.” His gaze took a dangerous tone before he bowed and handed over the basket. Nana closed the door, her skin a white pallor. “Rosabel. Please promise me when you go into the forest that you make sure you’re home before the sun sets.” “Why?”

“Please promise me.” She’d never seen stark fear from Nana. The woman gave her strength to persevere through anything. “I promise.” Those two simple words washed all the tension from Nana’s face. “Gather your things for the festival this evening. I’m sure Mrs. Bonnet will have a spare room for us to use.” Nana cupped Rosabel’s chin. “You’ve worked so hard on your cloak and dress. It wouldn’t be right to miss it.” “Thank you.” Rosabel moved to the bench by the window and stared out at the sun settling between the tops of the trees. On the edge of the property, wolves gathered and sat on the ridgeline but didn’t advance into the yard. A few paced, anxious and waiting. On what, she did not know. One of them lifted their snout and howled. The eerie sight had her closing the curtains. She rubbed the ache out of her hands. The image of her admirer vivid tormented her mind. His lips drew near to her skin in her memory and a fire blazed deep within. She had to deny her feeling, close her dreaming off as it wandering into unfamiliar territory. Humans and werewolves did not mix.

Chapter Two Rosabel sat in front of the mirror in her singular room at the Blooming Violet Inn. Another pin fell to the floor from her shaking hands. The night she had waited for since her body transformed from a thin reed to delicate curves had arrived and her nerves took away her dexterity. She closed her eyes, concentrating on stilling her pounding heart. No one could help her in the preparations for the festival. As a maiden declaring her eligibility to marry, she had to prove herself. She blinked, taking up another pin. It slid into her hair. Dozens of curls framed her face and she picked up her mask. Glittering beads cascaded off the side and a silken red rope would secure it. She pressed the last piece of her outfit to her face. Her fingers danced around to the red cords and tied it tight. In her reflection, she hardly recognized herself. Gone were the drab clothes, replaced by a low-cut red and white dress. Her boots stopped at her ankles and the heels added height. Outside, the clock tower struck six. The sound vibrated through the walls. With no more time to make sure the little detail were in place, Rosabel grabbed her cloak. It fluttered and settled on her shoulders. She brought the hood up before leaving the confines of the room. As she descended the steps to the common room, the sweet music of the festival drifted in every time the front door opened. Gathering her courage, she offered a smile to the innkeeper, Beatrice, before heading out into the throng of people. In the center of the town, a large statue of a werewolf snarled at the twirling dancers around it. An iconic figure, it held more meaning to Rosabel since her encounter at the bakery. What did her mysterious man look like in this form? Lanterns hung from strong cord along the courtyard, illuminating the partygoers. Each man and woman hid his or her features behind a mask. Green noted the widowers vying for a second romance. White marked those who were joined in marriage already, their masks matching that of their spouse. The remaining festival attendees wore red like Rosabel. Her gaze roamed to the sky and the near vermilion full moon. A few clouds tried to obscure its brilliance but the glow filtered through. She basked in its luminance as she made her way around the

statue. All the men in attendance were dressed in their best, and Rosabel noted the ones with the red masks. Once the music began, she could choose to dance with any of them. At the end of the night, suitors would line up and cast a lot in the basket of the woman they wished to court. The courting rituals brought a smile to Rosabel’s lips. To think a man would come to her home just to ask for a simple walk through the village or sit down at their large table by the hearth for a meal prepared by her hands thrilled her. She wanted the deep resounding love Nana had spoken so often about. At the strike of the bow across the violinist’s strings, the first dance began. She laughed, joining hands with a red-masked gentleman. The palms of his hands were clammy, a nervous twitch to his lips, and he danced with the grace of a wild boar. She took off with grace and elegance, leading him around the wolf statue. Not even his awkwardness would ruin her mood for the evening. As she twirled away and reached out for his hands again, another took his place. Rosabel almost lost her footing. There was no mistaking those hazel eyes behind the red mask. Her heart fluttered as the surge of energy spiked between them. He pulled her in close, and she caught the whiff of the pine and heather scent uniquely his. “We meet again,” she whispered against his chest. “Now, Rosabel,” his baritone voice filled her ears, “knowing your suitor at the festival is against the custom.” She whorled away from him before his strength drew her near again. His lips came dangerously close and the aching need to press her mouth to his overwhelmed her. As she came within a hairsbreadth, the sudden coldness of his departure caused a whimper to form in her throat. Just as quick, another male took her in his arms for a dance. The heat and yearning she had with her devilish prince of the forest vanished in the arms of another man. She went through the motions but her eyes sought her mate. Mate. The word jarred her back to reality, and she broke from her partner. Shaking, she bolted away from the festivities into the comforts of the shadowy alley just on the edge. She cast her gaze to the moon, basking in the tranquility of its zenith. The nervousness and desire for her hazel-eyed tempter slowly cooled.

“My Rosabel.” She stiffened at the heat of his breath on her neck only to melt as his arms wrapped around her waist. The whimper she held in slipped out when his lips caressed her nape. Heat rose in her cheeks. From her perspective, she could see the festival. Her mind called for her to rejoin it and leave the intoxicating touch of the man. Deep inside her chest, her heart thundered for her to submit to his every whim. “Do you feel it?” His tongue snaked along her earlobe. “We are destined to be as one.” She had no words, the trembling of her legs voicing a thousand of them. Slowly her skirts hiked farther up her legs by his machinations. Her stomach quickened, and she reached up to run her fingers through his hair as she pressed against him. His erection dug into her back, letting his intentions be known. So against every courting ritual she’d been told about, she opened her thighs to his probing. A small gasp escaped her lips as he found her tender spot with ease. “Careful, my mate. You do not want to draw attention to your state.” He chuckled before suckling at her neck. Her chest heaved. Her lip between her teeth to stave off the growing moans, she unabashedly ground her hips against his dexterous fingers. Rosabel enticed a growl from his lover’s throat as she rubbed against his hardened shaft. Pain flared in her neck as his teeth scraped along the skin. She fisted her hand in his hair, her legs barely holding her weight. His digits became more insistent, flicking and probing her sensitive areas. The warm feel of her wetness trailed down her leg, and she nearly collapsed when his finger slid inside her core. His strong arms held her upright but she could not take the torment of his touch any longer. “Take me. Please.” She moaned. “No, not like this. I offer but a taste of what I intend to do to you.” He drove his finger deeper, testing her virginal passage before pulling out. She swooned in his arms, the pleasure shaking her very soul. Her skirts hung back in place, and she swayed on her feet, her decadent lover steadying her. “Go back to the party, my sweet.” He peeled away from her.

“But….” She turned to drag him closer, and he’d vanished. Shame should have filled her but only desire for him to do the same thing again boiled inside. Her sex throbbed with need. “Rosabel?” At her nana’s calling, she smoothed out her skirts to make sure everything was in place before turning to face her grandmother. “I’m sorry. It’s all so much to take in.” “It’s time for the courting ceremony to begin.” Nana waved her to follow, and Rosabel complied, glancing back once to see if her mate still lingered. Darkness greeted her. Taking her basket from Nana, she made her way to the small stage. She lined up with the other girls vying for a suitor and set her basket down in front of her. The men outnumbered the ladies. Still reeling from her encounter, Rosabel barely managed a smile to the approaching brood of males. Each held a square stone marker to state their choice. Several of the other girls received more than one token while her basket remained empty. The first man she danced with approached, his marker unsteady in his hands. A nervous smile spread on his face, and he extended his token toward her basket. His pallor turned a whiter shade of pale before he moved to the next girl, tossing his token in the basket. With not one suitor, Rosabel’s smile faltered. At the edge of the crowd in the background, she saw her shadow rendezvous. His lips mouthed a message for only her eyes. You are mine.

Chapter Three Taking her cloak off, Rosabel rubbed her thumbs over the silky fabric. On a day that should have brought joy brought confusion. The unexpected attention the werewolf gave her should have felt wrong instead of unleashing heated lust within. Why did he affect her so? She hung her red cloth on a hook and changed into her nightshift. The shame of not getting at least one token had caused many gathered to stare at her. Feigning an upset stomach, she made her grandmother take her away from the awful scene. Why hadn’t her mystery man gotten someone to cast his lot into her basket? Out her window, the dulling full moon nested on the canopy of trees. The baying of the werewolves inside the forest, something she’d listen to without a care inside the cottage, would take on a different meaning. A shadow crossed along the thick trunks followed by a pack of wolves. She closed the curtain in her room and snuffed out the oil lamp. She hoped sleep would bring her peace from the events of her day. As she lay in bed, Rosabel shivered as a loud howl echoed outside. **** The morning dew clung to the bushes as Rosabel plucked ripe berries. Her scissors clipped some of the herbs she’d planted near the border of the wooded area. The fresh scent tickled her nose, pungent and aromatic. A full week had passed since the festival. She stayed near to the house, too ashamed to travel into town. Another year would go by before a man could court her unless her prince showed himself again. A squirrel flitted out of the brush, its tail twitching. She smiled and fished out a few more berries. “Here you go.” She laid them out for her small guest to feast on. The noon sun twinkled through the trees, and she headed back to the house. She had no intention of being in the forest any longer. The joy she held for it in her heart seemed dim in light of the prospect of spending her days without the touch of her mystery lover. He’d promised more but had yet to deliver. Back in the cottage, Rosabel stripped her red cloak off and hung it on the hook just inside the door. She set her basket, brimming

with various berries, underneath. “Nana! I’ve got the berries picked for Mrs. Bonnet, and I harvested some of the herbs.” “Wonderful.” Nana came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on her apron. “I’ll get them to her right way. Would you like anything from town?” “No, thank you.” She thought about sneaking into the village but her notoriety after the festival meant silent smugness from the other girls. Her dark locks and deep brown eyes were one of a kind in the fair-haired community. Many wagering she would have a basket brimming with tokens. “I think I’ll do a little cleaning and get us ready for the winter.” Nana patted Rosabel’s arm. “I won’t be long, and then we can cook something special for dinner.” Rosabel sat down heavily on the couch when Nana left. She couldn’t hide from the potential scorn forever. Perhaps she was overreacting and a jaunt into town would be nothing more than it had always been. When her courage decided to return, she would at least think about visiting Mrs. Bonnet. The string for the attic stairs teased her. Most of the winter blankets and heavier curtains were stored in the attic. She clambered on a chair and yanked on the dangling cord. The door creaked and opened, the stairs sliding free in her grasp. She took her time ascending, humming a quiet tune to drown out the silence. Particles of dust parted as she reached the top and reached for the blankets. In the corner, near one of the triangle windows, she spied a large basket. Her initial reason for entering the attic vanished. “My bassinet.” She crawled in and pulled out the downy blanket. The very piece of cloth she’d been wrapped in when her parents left the bassinet on Nana’s porch steps. She rubbed the smooth fabric against her cheek and sighed. One day she would pass it down to her children. Digging in the basket farther, she hit something firm. Rosabel pushed the swaddling blanket aside. Wrapped in a red ribbon sat a large tome. A small piece of paper with her name was attached. She crossed her legs and placed the tome on her lap to leaf through. It had been a long time since she had something to read. With no title imprinted on the book, she removed the ribbon to peer inside of her new treasure. The dust flew from the book as she

opened it, choking her for a moment. Grime irritated her eyes, and they watered to flush it out. Blinking, she focused on the illustrated page. The picture depicted a female wearing a red cape with a halfman/half-wolf blocking the path to a wooded area. Her hand was up in a defensive stance against the gleaming teeth of the beast. Stark white stones lined the path the woman stood on. She turned the page, and the wolf creature held out a collar to the female. The vines of the trees intertwined in the background. Flicking to the next, she found a torn edge and a missing page. Frowning, she examined the ribbon that bound the book. It had slipped of easily and with careful inspection, she noted the satin string had been poorly retied. Someone had tampered with the book. Why? At the back of the tome, a detailed picture of a cave with several red fruits trailing along the ground drew her attention. “I know this place.” As she closed the book, another cloud of dust assaulted her eyes. She wrinkled her nose to stifle a sneeze. A slip of paper fell out between the pages. A single tear hit the sheaf and her mouth opened wide as words appeared. Only by submitting to the bounds can one tame the wolf to your will. She stuffed the parchment back in the book and put it back exactly where she found it. The comforters in hand, she descended from the attic and closed it back up. The curtains would wait for another day. The pictures and the cape of the woman in the books hit too close to home for Rosabel. What did it mean? Cold dread washed over her. Something inside warned her that finding the book hadn’t been an accident. It was meant for her. The missing pages contained information she desperately needed to know. Tomorrow, she planned on taking a walk to the patch of strawberries growing near the dark cave depicted in the picture. It was her only clue on where to search for answers. She busied herself in the kitchen, hanging the herbs, and starting a soup to warm Nana from her trip. As the sun turned the forest a fiery orange, Nana returned home. Rosabel helped her with the packages, and they enjoyed the meal she prepared. The book weighted heavily on her mind and sleep could not come fast enough to carry her to the early morning light.

Chapter Four Rosabel settled her red cloak on her shoulders before picking up her basket. With winter approaching, the trailing brambles in the forest would shed both berries and leaves. While she avoided going to the village proper, she couldn’t dismiss her task for Mrs. Bonnet. Out of anyone in Bois de’Lune, she remembered every delicious patch of fruit the forest had to offer. “Be back before nightfall, Rosabel.” Nana leaned against the archway to the kitchen, her hands worrying with her apron. “Yes, Nana.” She offered a smiled before slipping out the door. Taking a lazy pace, she wove in and out of the trees until she lost sight of the cottage. At that point, she broke into a run. The birds cawed, and a deer ran into her path but Rosabel continued at a hurried pace. In order to get back to the cottage before nightfall and fill her basket to hide her ruse, she couldn’t tarry. Her true intent was to explore the cave from the book. She leapt over the small brook, grinning as she spotted the bright red strawberry patch. She picked her fill, her gaze lingering on the mouth of the cave. A cool breeze drifted out, and she shivered. With one tentative step, she entered. The afternoon sun filtered in, giving her enough light to see the beginnings of a glyph on the wall and an unlit torch. Her hand smoothed over the carved image of a stylized wolf paw. Rustling in the bushes made her jump, and she pressed against the wall to hide in the shadows. A skunk waddled out taking interest in the berry patch. Shaking away her apprehension, she left the creature be. She jerked the torch free of the sconce. A block of steel rested upon a natural shelf. A stone to strike against the metal lay at her feet. She crouched and struck the two together. The torch flared to life, and she tiptoed farther into the cave. She touched the first illustration, her breath quickening. The sketch pictured the same drawings as the book. Her fingers trembled as she traced over the artwork depicting the missing elements. The woman in red kneeled before the man, no longer in his half-state. His well-endowed nakedness flushed her cheeks, the warmness spreading through her body. Her fingers reached out to touch the exotic painting. “Well if it isn’t my sweet tender lady in red from the village.”

She whirled and held the torch out to stave off the intruder but he chuckled at her actions. “Leave me be.” His shirt open, the curly tufts of hair peeking out and his pants left nothing to her imagination, especially after seeing the illustrations on the cave walls. The hazel orbs she’d been enraptured with bore into her. The want came back to her in full force as he stepped closer. Deep inside, she longed to have him press against her but Rosabel tried to block the wicked thoughts away. She was human and he werewolf. The scandal would ruin her. “Alone? I’m afraid I can’t do that.” He wagged a finger at her. “You’re on my property.” “It is not nightfall.” She huffed, trying to keep up her bravado. He couldn’t harm her, not in the daylight. Law dictated immunity. She had to believe it true. “Besides, no one truly owns the forest.” “No one? Are you so sure about that?” He advanced. The torchlight danced across the golden glitter of his eyes. He stalked around her, a wry grin on his face. She kept the torch in front of her defensively, backing toward to the entrance. “After what we shared, I would think you’d be more receptive to my presence, my princess.” “It was a mistake. I should have never allowed you to touch me that way.” Her voice pitched, the undeniable pull of his scent growing stronger. Despite herself, her nostrils flared to take in another whiff. If she didn’t leave soon, she would lose any hold on her self control. His stare grew cold. “Take your basket and leave this place, Rosabel, or the next time I catch you unaware, I’m going to eat you.” He snapped his jaws. Rosabel shivered at his sudden change. The torch dropped from her hand and she took off, only taking a moment to grab the basket. A growl sounded behind her. She screamed as she crashed through dense foliage. Strawberries flew from her basket, smashing against the tree trunks in a splatter of red. Nearing the cottage she slowed, the sun’s ray just dipping below the horizon. Liquid gold lit her path to the door and safety from the creature lurking in the forest. She took a moment to catch her breath, not wanting her obvious panic to show in front of her grandmother. The forest was all she had and refused to lose it.

Straightening, she walked along the cobblestones leading to the front door. Her heart pounded in her chest. Rosabel’s mind told her that inside the cottage would protect her but the forest whispered to her soul and called her back. She hesitated a moment until Nana opened the door and waved her to come inside. With one more look around, the half moon just flushing on the darkening sky, she reluctantly went inside. “You worried me. The sun’s almost gone.” Nana took Rosabel’s basket from her. Rosabel turned away, biting her lip as she hung up her cloak. “Sorry, Nana. I wanted us to have strawberries for a dessert tonight. I know a patch not too far from here, and I figured I could make it.” She hated lying, if only partially, to the woman who had raised her from a babe. Painting a smile on her face, she turned. Nana returned her cheery demeanor. “I think a certain young lady couldn’t resist the call of her favorite fruit, is what I think.” Nana pulled a few bowls out of the cupboard. Rosabel laughed. “Perhaps.” “Well, then, come help me prepare it. What will it be? A tart, pie, or shall you just pop them in your mouth one by one.” “All three, of course!” Rosabel dragged the flour jar off the pantry shelf. The deception shamed her but the overprotectiveness of her grandmother would make her an old widow bereft of finding love. Waiting for the next festival would not due. She needed to find out why the werewolf affected her so. She considered the tome found in the attic; her matriarch was hiding something from her. She had to find out without raising any suspicion.

Chapter Five The weeks past like a blur. Rosabel spent her time between preparing the rest of the house for winter and leafing through the book in her bassinet. Approaching Nana on the subject had not happened nor was she sure she could confront the only person she had in this world. She pinched her lower lip between her fingers, mulling over the pictures of a human woman bonded to a werewolf. As far as she knew, no female werewolves existed. Was she the key to bearing the next generation? She shook her head at the notion yet couldn’t deny how her brief lover had made her feel. Through the phases of the moon, she’d waxed and waned along with it with her emotion pull to seek the hazel-eyed man wolf. Their last encounter did not give her hope of a warm reception. Her defiance had angered him. Lost in the beauty of Argonne Forest, a thick blanket of leaves her bed, Rosabel fed a nut to a passing squirrel. Its cheeks brimmed with food. The small animal couldn’t resist and snatched another from her hand. Sneaking off to the call of the forest hadn’t been easy. Two days straight, she stood on the edge digging up root vegetables to store in the basement and any inch she gained into the thick of the forest, her grandmother called her back. Nana had watched her in the yard like a hawk circling for a meal. As soon as Nana had left for the village, Rosabel had taken off. The sun would be her guide in when she had to head back. She laughed at her furry friends and lay back to take in the remains of a peaceful day. She contemplated exploring the cave again but until she was sure the werewolf would not chase her down, she contented in enjoying the nice autumn foliage away from anyone but small animals. Comfortable in the sweet smell of the changing of the season, she sighed. Heady scents of the white lacy flowers crawling up the dead trees and the little purple button flowers adding to the color framed her spot. Her hand reached out to allow the filtering streaks to break across her fingertips. Its weak light had her sitting up. Had day passed so quickly? She jumped up, her heart thumping loud. Nana surely had returned from the village. She couldn’t get caught in the woods after sunset. Rosabel ran. Her red, flowing cape snapped against the breeze she created in her

retreat. The baying of wolves churned her legs faster and quickened her beating heart. She had to make it to the house. So lost in her daydream in the beauty of her surroundings, she’d neglected the daylight becoming weaker. The cycle of the moon—bright, full and lustrous, a cursed beacon to those caught after dark. The werewolves tolerated the humans to some extent but never during full moon. Images of her mysterious werewolf popped in her head, his snarling white teeth snapping at her cloak. She shook the nightmarish thoughts from her head. Their lustful cries sounded closer. She leapt to avoid a root only to tumble to the ground. Ahead, the welcoming light of her home beckoned. On the porch, Nana called out for her, voice pitched with worry. As Rosabel went to answer, a heavy weight landed on her back. “Again you defy, Rosabel.” His hot breath, heavy on her neck, awakened the insatiable urge below. His fingernails dug into her flesh while his tongue flicked across her earlobe. A chuckle, one not born of amusement, rumbled from his throat. “Squeal for me.” He snarled on top of her but she refused to utter a word. “Rosabel!” Her grandmother cried out. “Or perhaps I should let her see how easily you beg for my touch.” Her breath caught as he glided her skirts up to expose her backside. “No, please.” Rosabel pleaded. “Forgive me for not heeding your warnings. I’m the one that broke the laws of your land. Please don’t do this.” His strong hand turned her over and pinned her down. In his human form, the same mask from the festival adorning his face, the werewolf sniffed along her neckline before dragging his tongue along her cheek. She whimpered. “I promised you I would take this slow but you tempt me so, princess.” “Why do you call me that?” She struggled against his hold only to melt into him as he blazed a trail of kisses from her chin to just above her bodice.

“You taste sweet like innocence.” His finger lengthened into a claw and broke the string to her cloak. “That old woman hasn’t told you who you are?” Heat spread down the length of her body as his hand glided down. She allowed him, a mixture of fear and longing tugging at her soul. If the stories range true, the beasts knew nothing of mercy. As the werewolf gazed at her with a gaze shifting from lust to domineering, Rosabel believed every twisted tale she’d heard. He knew something. “Who am I?” “What’s it worth to you?” His tongue flicked out to lick his lips, and she shivered beneath him. “Anything.” “Anything?” He pried her legs apart with his knee, settling down on her. His mouth hovered dangerously close to hers. His erection rubbed her sex, and her skin prickled. The urge to move her hips against his hardened shaft almost left her speechless. “Y-yes.” A small growl escaped his lips, and he gave her a glimpse of his canines. “Then I claim you as my mate.” He covered her mouth with his palm before biting down hard on her neck. Her screams muffled, the pain in her shoulder increased. Rising, he snapped his teeth, her blood dribbling down his lips. “I’ve marked you as mine and mine alone. At the apex of the moon, I want you to walk one hundred paces out into the northern forest wearing this.” He fingered her red cloak. “Disobey me and I’ll come back and eat you and your precious old grandmother.” He leaned down, planting a wet bloody kiss next to her ear. “If you try and run from me, I’ll find you Rosabel.” She shivered at his menacing but heady words. He stood upright, and she gasped. His lengthy cock jutted out from a nest of dark curls. He touched it briefly, his hungry gaze gliding over her entire body. “Plenty of time for you to gaze at your prize in the bargain later.” He snarled. “Go before I change my mind and take you now.” Scrambling up, she ran the distance to her grandmother while holding onto her red cloak. Rosabel collapsed in her nana’s arms as the older woman took her inside. Glancing back, she saw the glowing orbs of the wolf’s eyes. The bite wound burned on her neck.

“I’m sorry, Nana.” She cried. “I’m so sorry.” She pulled her cloak close for comfort and to hide the mark her werewolf attacker left. “You’re safe now, child. Heavens, I thought they’d captured you.” Grandma gave her a squeeze about the shoulders, leading Rosabel into the kitchen. “I can’t live like this, Nana.” She sobbed. Inside the cottage, the air stifled her lungs. In the forest, her soul run free but the dangers of the werewolves threatened and trapped her into something she could not avoid. “How about a nice cup of tea?” “No.” She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Who am I, Nana?” “What do you mean?” Nana poured two cups of tea and slid one to Rosabel. “Who are my parents? Why did they leave me here? Surely they had to leave something behind.” “So many questions.” Nana half-smiled as she cupped the side of Rosabel’s face. “Drink your tea, dear. You’re too distraught for such talk. Perhaps in the morning.” Rosabel’s lips trembled. She had no faith that the truth would come out. Drinking the tea, the chamomile soothed her body. The adrenaline from her encounter waned. Even if she wanted to insist on some answers, her body had other plans. She staggered to her room exhausted. Tears flowed out but her mouth stayed firmly shut. She didn’t have the heart to tell her grandmother of her bargain to force her heritage out. No matter what her nana’s reasons for keeping the secret, she wouldn’t scorn her for it. Stripping off her cloak, she examined the bite mark on her neck. Pinkish, it had already started healing. By morning, no one would notice. She took her blanket off the bed and stuffed it along the bottom of her door to block the lamplight from shining through to the other side. Nana had to think she’d drifted off to sleep. Rosabel had too much to plan for to allow for rest. She had to meet the wolf at midnight, and it frightened yet excited her. By the state of his manhood, she knew his intent with her. Dreams of the intrigue courting brought were scattered on the wind. Her mate had other plans. What harm would befall her if she ran away from their planned coupling?

She laced a needle with crimson string to repair the ties on her cloak in the dim light of her room. A gasp escaped her lips as the needle pricked her, and she suckled on the wound. On the side of her neck, his bite burned her skin. She trembled. Running wasn’t an option if he’d done more than taste her flesh. He captured her scent and no matter where she ran, he would find her. Nothing would save her from her fate. By her body’s reaction to a simple finger stroke of the werewolf, no other man could ever make her feel so vibrant and alive.

Chapter Six The footfalls of her grandmother making her way to bed creaked in the old house. Rosabel checked the position of the moon. Sucking in one last shuddering breath, she changed into the outfit she had worn for the festival. With the mask firmly on, the crimson cloak fluttered and settled about her neck. She opened the window to her room, not wanting to trudge through the house and wake her grandmother. The soft moss underneath her windowsill greeted her bare feet with care. Pale yellow stones lit the path to the northern reaches, her wolf making sure she wouldn’t get lost. Leaves crunched as she walked, the cloak tight against her body. A clearing showed ahead rimmed with the same rocks. In the middle, a bonfire blazed against a dark backdrop. Off in the distance, the chiming of the midnight bells echoed from atop the church tower in town. The werewolf came out of hiding halfway through the melodious sound. Still naked except for the mask on his face, he croaked a finger at her as she stilled near the edge. She stepped over the barrier of stones to stand in the middle of the circle. He paced around her, his nostrils flaring as he took in her scent. “I thought I told you to wear only this.” Slowly, he pulled on the string to her cloak. He flicked it off her shoulders, and it fell at her feet. “You told me to wear it but did not say it should be the only thing.” She held her head high. “Oh, Rosabel, you tempt me so.” The fire crackled as he walked around her again. His fingers worked the strings on the back of her bodice. As the cool midnight air touched her pale skin, she shivered. His hands caressed her flesh, enticing a moan from her lips. His touch ignited her need, and she caught herself before she dropped to all fours for the taking. He gathered up her dress and tossed it into the fire. She ran to stop him but he caught her in his arms. “Offer yourself to me.” He grinned. She struggled against his hold but only pressed closer to his hardening shaft. She snorted. “How shall I do that? Have I not struck a bargain with you, wolf?”

“No, no, Rosabel.” He tsked. “You have to honor it for our agreement to be finalized.” His finger traced along her exposed flesh. “You will do whatever I command without question. I am your Master above all.” Her breath hitched. “But you said I was your mate.” “Did I?” He rubbed her arms and licked at the mark on her neck. Flaming heat coursed through her veins, and she moaned. Moisture pooled in her lower regions. “Offer yourself to me.” He nipped harder but not enough to break the surface. Her skin tingled and yearned for him to touch her in intimate places. Indescribable, just the hotness of his breath upon her flesh prickled it. The hunger building inside begged for her to comply with his every whim. “How can I offer what is yours to take.” She groaned as his tongue licked the same spot. “I offer myself to you.” “Wholly?” “Yes.” He groaned against her neck, massaging her breasts before pinching the nipples into hardened peaks. Her knees gave away, and she crumpled to the ground. It took her a moment to realize the fierce growls reaching her ears were of her own making. Pain and pleasure mingled as one for Rosabel. Blood rushed through her veins at incredible speed, her muscles rippling below the surface. The forest around her came alive; the spicy scented undergrowth and the call of a distant owl were overpowered by the staccato breathing of her mate. “Rosabel.” His haunting voice, muted against the roar of her burning soul, commanded her attention. She clawed at the ground, her cries turning to howls. Sweat poured from brow, and her chest heaved. Again the forest caressed her spirit, ebbing away the rest of her will. Strong hands yanked her arms behind her back. The silky smooth bite of cloth rope pressed into her skin and secured her arms as she struggled to heed the call of the forest. “Rosabel.” She stilled as he growled her name. Pheromones mingled between them, heightening her need to be one with him. Her face pressed into the ground and her body shivered, fueling the wetness between her legs.

She desired a werewolf who excited her in one caress. A taboo like no other she openly embraced. The tremors raced through her body, urging her to fight against the bonds holding her down. She needed to run through the thick of the forest under the light of the pale moon. Her confusion on her mixed emotions was short-lived as he thrust his tongue between her netherlips. He lapped and sucked her pussy, stroking her clit. Both hands came down, smacking her bottom, snapping her want to breaking from his wicked manipulations. Her yelp turned into a moan. She begged for more. Poised underneath her swelling sex, he tormented every inch of flesh. Again, his palms slapped her behind, each spank creating slick juices for her werewolf master to feast upon. Shame by her wanton lust permeated her mind but her hips demanded he take his fill and more. He thrilled her senses. “Please, take me.” She barely recognized her pleading voice. The air rushed out of her as he inserted fingers into her pussy. He stroked her tightening walls while suckling on her clit. Pressure built below before she unleashed a screaming howl. Liquid streamed from between her legs. She meowed as he stopped his torture of her sensitive nub. He brought her to her knees by tugging on the bindings. He came to stand in front of her, his cock glistening with dew as he stroked it. Fingers weaving in her hair, he positioned the mushroom tip near her mouth. Lust filled his eyes behind the mask, and the moonlight intensified it. Nothing mattered to her at that point beyond pleasing him. Tentative, she flicked her tongue out to capture the moisture at the end of his shaft. Sweet and salty, she took another taste before she swallowed his cock. He growled in appreciation. Moving it in and out of her mouth, Rosabel tasted his essence while entranced by his exotic gaze. The rumbled in his chest increased as she sucked and swirled her tongue long his shaft. The pleasure he bask on her she would return. Energy like no other radiated between them, washing away any fatigue she had left from the day. He pulled his shaft free of her hold. “Tell me you are mine.” “I am yours.” He offered his manhood for her again, and she took the whole length in. Her nipples hardened as he moved his hips back and forth, sliding his cock in and out of her mouth with a gentle pace. He took it from her again, backing away.

“Bind yourself to me, Rosabel.” His fingers ran along his engorged shaft, and Rosabel licked her lips, wanting to taste more of him. “Offer your gift.” Her pussy dripped with moisture at his deep resonating voice, and she allowed herself to fall forward onto the loamy earth. Knees spread and her ass high, she wiggled her hips. “I offer what I have for you.” He went behind her, the tip of his cock paused at her opening. “Who am I?” “My mate.” She panted. His hand came hard against her butt cheek, drawing a cry from her. “Who am I?” He repeated. “My one and only Master.” Rosabel’s voice pitched higher as he slammed his cock deep within her. Her virginal block shattered from the force. The rippling effect brought her over the edge. She barely heard the snarling growls from him over her own cries of pleasure. He tugged on the bindings of her arms, using them for leverage to slide deeper and deeper into her willing pussy. With one final shove, the warm splash of his semen coated the inside of her. The ropes around her arms loosened, and she collapsed on the ground, still reeling from the ecstasy. The bargain struck with the powerful werewolf of Argonne Forest made her his mate but as she curled up riding the last waves, she wondered who got the better of the deal. Her first time in the company of man hadn’t gone as the sweet stories her grandmother had told her. Compared to hers, they lacked passion. Her mind wandered, thinking of naughty acts so he would spank her for disobeying him. Anything to feel the heat of his scorching skin on hers. He dropped the black rope near her head. “Have you found out who you are, Rosabel?” “No.” She sat up and curled the rope around her wrist. A delicious shiver went through her bones thinking of the many ways he could bind her with it. “It no longer matters to me. I am yours, Master.” “Call me Ulric.” He gripped her hair, crashing his lips onto hers.

Starved for his touch, she opened herself up as his tongue snaked in. Her hand searched between his legs and stroked his cock. Ulric broke the kiss, a wicked grin curved on his mouth. When he arched back on his knees, his light tug on her hair brought Rosabel to his hardening shaft. Eager to relive the experience, she coaxed his cock into a rigid state. The feel of his manhood along her palm and the urgent plea in his eyes changed their roles for each other for the briefest of moments. Under the pale moonlight bathing her skin, she screamed his name as he claimed her again. Not bothering with the ropes, he held her arms back by the wrist and fucked her at a frenzied pace. With each stroke, Rosabel moaned and bucked to drive him in fully. The thickness of his shaft stretched her tender pussy to its limits before he shuddered again. The musky aroma of his scent coated her skin. As she propped herself up, she caught a glimpse of the rest of Ulric’s pack at the edge of the circle. They had watched him mate with her. Below, the ground glowed in an iridescent pattern. She spread her palms on it in wonder but Ulric jerked her to her feet before she could explore it further. The mask remained on his face, and he brushed her hair aside. He fixed a collar around her neck, jolting her with an electrical charge as he buckled it on. “It does not come off, my princess.” He stroked her chin. She reached up and removed his mask, smiling at the handsome face she remembered that fateful day at the bakery. “No man may claim you to his bed.” “None.” She curled her finger in his dark locks. “You are mine.” He growled, nuzzling against her throat. She stood still as he replaced her cloak and planted a kiss on her cheek. She craved his connection the minute he broke it but one stern look from his golden spheres made her cast her glance down. “The hour is late, and you must return.” He brought her in for one last embrace. “My kingdom shall never bring you harm.” He broke away. With one last glance, he shifted to his wolf form before taking off into the forest. The wolves in the pack flanked her, staying just a couple of feet away as she began her trek home. Halfway there, she stopped and stooped to examine the small white pebbles showing her the way. Her fingers dug at the loam around them and tried to pluck one out as a

memento but it wouldn’t budge. Unsure if the wolves would tell Ulric, she’d fiddled with his path. She replaced the dirt and continued home. One of the wolves bent low to offer his back so she could reach the window easier. Back in her room, she poured water into the basin and washed the remains of her night with the prince of the forest. Rosabel placed her red cloak over her naked body. A small bubble of laughter came to her lips. The garment would forever remind her of the delicious evening with Ulric. In the low flicker of her lamp, she examined the collar. It sparkled like diamonds against her skin but unless the light shined just right, she couldn’t tell it existed. She smiled and hugged herself; the evening brought her more joy than she imagined. Her body still thrummed at the mere thought of his hands on her flesh. The breeze from her window caressed her skin, and a moan escaped her lips. “Proud of yourself, princess?” She gasped, swinging around at the baritone voice. Out of the shadows, a sleek male dressed in form-fitting pants stalked out. His muscles rippled on his chest, and she noted the rune wolf’s paw tattoo on his left pectoral. “Ulric will not be pleased if I tell him one of his pups has disturbed his lady.” She huffed. Her red cloak flowed around her as she sat but she made no effort to shield her nudity. “Lady? From what I saw, whore might be a more appropriate title.” He snorted. “How dare you!” She rushed at him, her palms slapping against his chest. Her rage boiled when he laughed at her efforts. When his touch traced the fading scar of Ulric’s bite, she shuddered. The same connection between her mate resonated with the male in her room. Her visitor had noticed it, too, and he leaned in to capture her lips. Soft but insistent, his tongue delved in to deepen the kiss. Her hands ran along his back, desperate to mingle their heat into an inferno. A moan came to her lips as he laid her on the bed beneath him. Two of his fingers wormed their way down to her sex. She parted her legs to give better access. His digits plunged in and out at a furious pace. Her juices slicked her legs and his hand. His mouth covered

hers as she screamed in ecstasy. A shudder shook her whole body, and a gush flowed from her. He smacked his lips as she peered at him. He ran his tongue along his fingers, suckling at her sweet nectar. She pulsed below, wanting his licking to be delving between her nether area. An amused grin spread on his face. “You should have never let Ulric bound you with the collar. It will make you desire any werewolf of Ulric’s pack who touches.” He flicked a finger along her pussy, and she moaned. “Or otherwise pleasures you.” He bent down and took one of her nipples in his mouth. Her fingers twined in his dark hair as she fought to control her erratic breathing. Her body ached to have her lusty visitor’s manhood in her velvety folds. He leaned back, his hungry gaze taking in the length of her form. “The moon sways you. Do you wish me to fuck you, princess?” “Yes.” She moved to turn over, and he stopped her. “Not today. You’re too eager.” He got off the bed. By the open window, he glanced at her with one leg hanging out into the night air. “You thought you’d trick him with your wiles and heavenly scent.” He suckled on his finger. “Not to mention your taste. Think on why your grandmother told all of those sweet, sweet stories about your one true love.” He jumped into the night through the open window, and Rosabel rushed to it. The wolf man changed at the edge of the trees and disappeared, letting out a howl of triumph. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror. Could the werewolf have been telling the truth? Ulric warned her that no man could bed her but he said nothing about another werewolf. She could not deny that she desired the other wolf’s touch and manipulations on her flesh. As she searched the edge of the forest, she noted the several pairs of eyes keeping watch on the cottage. She shut the window and closed the curtain before lying on her bed to sleep.

Chapter Seven Rosabel shifted the cooked eggs around her plate, her appetite for food empty. She’d laid awake the rest of the night wondering if the pull of the moon had guided her actions. Despite Ulric’s vigorous lovemaking, the initial tenderness she felt after their second session had vanished. In her inability to find sleep, she had snuck back into the attic for the book. Hidden between her mattress and bed frame, she would study it in detail during the cover of night. If Nana granted her one thing, it was that her grandmother slept deep. Rosabel had read a few more pages before sleep had claimed her. The tome cited another cave in the southern part of the forest. She couldn’t stay indoors if she wanted to explore her options with Ulric or at least turning the tide on the werewolf. Part of her couldn’t bear to lose him completely. She’d seen the slightest of tenderness in his eyes as he brought her to climax. Unless she got him alone and away from his pack, he would never act beyond his domineering role in their relationship. Fate had decided whom she was bound to for the rest of her life but she would determine the means. According to the book, in order to dispel the curse and break free of the werewolves’ reign on Bois de’Lune, a woman of pure heart and blood needed to broker a deal with the prince. Rosabel planned to tempt fate every full moon under the pretense of daydreaming to lure Ulric to her instead of waiting for his beckon call. A red cloak signified a woman had become of age for marriage, and her virginity was intact amongst her people. Though she still wore it, Rosabel refrained from venturing into the main village since her night with Ulric. The shame had faded but should someone question her purity, her life would be forever sullied. Should Nana find out she lost her virginity as well…. Rosabel didn’t want to think of the consequences. First, she needed to get from under Nana’s watchful gaze. “The carrots I planted underneath the white oak should be ready for harvest. I’m going to dig them out before the rabbits find my new garden.” Nana frowned. “I don’t know.” “I promise to be back before the sun even sets this time, Nana. Think on how divine a fresh carrot soup will taste with our supper.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m of age, Nana. I would appreciate if you did not treat me like a child.” “You are a woman of age who has no suitor.” Rosabel shoved her plate away. “I have dwelled on that far too long. I might not have a man asking for my hand but I do have a life beyond the festival, Nana.” Nana sighed, her eyes not meeting Rosabel’s stare. “The moon cycle is not favorable.” “Which means I only need to make sure I’m home before dusk nothing more, right?” She watched Nana, the old woman busying herself with the dirty dishes from breakfast. “Is that not right, Nana?” She pressed her, still not wanting to blurt out about the book she’d found. “Yes.” Nana’s shoulders slumped. “Just watch the time.” Too late for that. Something incredible happened, beyond the pleasure, when she mated with Ulric. She had to find out what. She tied on her red cloak and grabbed her basket. Outside, the sun peeked through the leaves, staving off some of the chill the morning brought. Dew sparkled off the berries at the edge of their property. Rosabel picked them off the branches one by one. Some made it in the basket, others into her mouth. Nana watched from the window, not that it irritated Rosabel. Overprotection had been steady in her life. The secret kept from her hurt more. Rosabel tramped out into the forest and craned her head to the sky. If the old woman noticed her diligence, perhaps she wouldn’t fret. Rosabel had to get to the cave and back before nightfall. She sped up her pace, surprised at the energy she displayed considering her activities with Ulric. The white oak clung desperately to its red leaves on broad branches. Had her day been more carefree, Rosabel would have climbed the lower branches and bask in the warmth from the ascending sun. Instead, she yanked the carrots out of the soil one by one. She paused, feeling a tinge of regret. She was deceiving Nana as much as the old woman was deceiving her. How much further would she slide down that slippery slope before coming clean? A brook trailed down along her path, the water skipping over the rock shelf. She lifted her skirts and hopped over. The basket

swayed as she hummed to keep away the eerie silence. Her destination lay ahead. She set her harvest down and entered the cave. Her fingers brushed against the cold stone walls. A few feet in, another torch sat in a sconce much like the other cave. She took the torch out of its holder and placed it on the ground. She fished out a piece of steel and rock from the nook in the wall. Sparks flew after a couple of strikes. The layout looked much the same, the illustrations lined up in order. Sure she missed something in the first cave when Ulric had disturbed her; she padded to the last drawing she examined. Next to the depiction of cave scratched into the stone, nothing showed. She whimpered in frustration. Ulric could do wicked manipulations to her and, while it saturated her below just thinking about it, any man having that much control worried her. He desired her, but, would he love her? Rosabel sank to the ground. Was love that important to her over the heated passion he offered? Tears ran down her cheeks, her mind furiously trying to think of some way to get her happily ever after with the prince of the woods. He would love her with the depth she felt for him. She had to believe it. She wiped the moisture off and stared at the crystalline drops. “The parchment.” The pieces of paper that had fallen out of the book showed her an image when her tears soaked it. She pressed her wet palm to the blank canvas on the wall. Veins formed in the rock, snaking out and darkening in areas. The spider web design matched the vine maze of the older picture with the woman bowed in submission. It glittered in the torchlight, and the woman appeared first, the magical ink spreading quicker. Her werewolf master fleshed out with her pressed against his chest. The red cape flowed out and encompassed another proud male. Rosabel’s chest heaved as the smoke from the torch melded into the wall forming shadows behind the figures. Three wolves appeared under a full gray moon. She ripped her hand away from the wall and ran to the exit. A blurry form warped in front of her. The torch left her hand. It blazed back in the sconce. “Princess, princess. Must I keep my eye on you night and day?”

She pressed against the cave wall as the man grinned at her, his hand on the pilfered torch. The same male from her bedroom encounter. He closed the distance between them. Her palms flattened against the stone to suppress the urge to dance her fingers along his flesh. The same urges welled in her again without the aid of the intoxicating moon. His body molded to hers, and she shivered as his restrained but hard cock rubbed near her throbbing sex. She wouldn’t allow him to sway her as before. Rosabel needed to control the insatiable need to mate with another werewolf. “Why are you here?” She raised her chin and met his lusty stare. “Come to have a taste?” “Perhaps.” He inhaled, a demure smile on his face. “Are you offering?” “You know who I belong to.” Her mouth opened just enough to run her teeth along her lower lip. “Who knows what he will do if he catches a whiff of your scent on me.” “Oh, princess, you don’t know what game you’re playing.” He bared his canines, a low rumble emulating from his belly. “My name’s not princess, werewolf.” She leaned closer to his face, giving him a sniff to see how he liked it. His exotic fragrance almost had her suckling at his neck to have a taste but she resisted— barely. “What is your name, my prince’s little plaything?” “You first.” Her tongue teased her lips again, and she felt his cock jerk against her. He hissed, his eyes taking the golden tint of his species. Her lips curved into a smile as she ground against his crotch. “After all, you’ve already tasted what I have to offer.” “Conall.” He brushed a kiss on her ear, and she fisted his shirt, unable contain her desire. Her cloak came free beneath his dexterous work, and one by one, her blouse buttons loosened. “If he smells you on me....” She squealed as his fingers pinched a nipple. “He won’t.” His lips seared her skin. She gasped, her hands seeking his growing bulge. “Your arrogance will be your downfall, Conall.” Her desire peaked but she wanted to dominate the proud male before her.

To touch and taste his skin. To hear him murmur her name over and over. “Call me Rosabel.” Her tongue flicked out across his nipple. He drew back, his eye heady with desire. “You have no power over me, woman.” Rosabel revealed nothing beyond her wicked grin and searching hands. With a yank, his cock spilled free of his pants. She chuckled as she sank to her knees. “I’m going to enjoy proving you wrong.” Her tongue whipped out, teasing the mushroom head of his substantial length. His palms slapped against the cavern walls as she swallowed his shaft with ease. Rosabel tasted the salty elixir coating the head and moaned. Conall’s manhood had the same girth and size as Ulric’s but his musk excited her more. She grasped his hips to urge him farther into her hungry mouth. At first, he resisted her unspoken commands but as her tongue tickled the base of his shaft, he drove it in and bucked. The power thrilled as much as the shocking waves of pleasure ripping through her core. His manhood couldn’t go deep enough or thrust in fast enough to sate her completely. She wanted all he had to offer her. Her scream vibrated on his cock, and her fingers tugged on his sac. In control of his actions, she slid his member out and pinched the tip. She wanted to prove to Ulric she was in charge of her destiny and seducing Conall would be her defiance. He would not determine what man would bed her, not when she desired Conall just as much as Ulric. Both awakened a beast she never knew lie beneath the surface. Rising, she rubbed up against Conall. “On your knees.” She hiked her skirts up and revealed her lack of undergarments. Her pussy, damp with the sheen of her passion, awaited Conall’s seeking fingers. Her lover obliged and devoured her sex. Bracing her back on the wall, she positioned her legs over Conall’s shoulders and gyrated her hips in rhythm with his thrusting digits. Her cries echoed in the cave along with his growls of hunger. “You can no more resist this than I.” She whimpered as he stopped his tongue-lashing, and his probing digits slipped from her core. Conall lifted her up before laying her on the ground. He spread her legs wide, and his cock twitched along her sex.

“Give me your cock, Conall.” Rosabel tried to position his member to line up with her wanting pussy but he palmed her swollen clit and licked her juices from his fingers. “Spicy little wench.” He hooked her legs and bent them to her shoulders. “I wonder if you deserve to wear the red in your courting.” “Bastard.” She breathed, her word having no bite. “I had my virginity until your prince took it.” A yelp whistled out as Conall pinched her nipple again before massaging the pain away. “Oh you wanted it, princess. You presented that willing pussy to Ulric. More than once.” He dipped his tongue down to her cleft for one more taste. Her eyes widened. “You were watching?” “From a distance. But he didn’t claim everything.” His wicked mastery delved lower to her rim, and she squirmed. Conall’s shimmering eyes kept her enraptured as he explored her puckered hole. The thought of tricking him to spill his essence into her to spite Ulric drifted away. Her current lover shoved another finger in, widening her lower opening. Between gasps of pleasure, she cursed him and his intent while imploring him to continue. She’d lost the battle of wills between them, his experience in mating far past her own. Wet from his constant attention, she stilled in anticipation as he positioned his shaft above her spread cheeks. Desire heavy in his eyes, she witnessed his aching need and gave him a breathy “yes.” The tremors she’d shook from while Ulric had positioned himself near her awaiting pussy came back full force at Conall’s lusty howl. His hardened member penetrated her ass, and the sweet nectar of her sex poured to saturate her belly. Her legs still pinned to her shoulders, accepted the rapture of a mixture of passion and pain as he pounded the innocence from her other virginal hole. The color of his orbs vanished under the glowing amber and snarls issued from his throat. Her throaty calls mimicked his. The control she held on Conall gave way to the bliss of their union. Tears leaked out as she accepted the beauty of it and the realization that she never had any reservations in offering up her body. She cupped Conall’s ridged face. The strain of his steady and fast pace corded his muscles. Orgasms shook her core, and she cried out for her conquering werewolf to brand her with his essence. He unleashed inside her before shoving her aside.

Rosabel stretched, enjoying the joyous ripples from her meeting with Conall. Her lover, however, howled before drawing her back into his arms. “You tricked me.” He chuckled, licking the side of her neck. “I would brand you if I could, my sweet.” “You have branded my heart, my love.” She dragged him down on her for a deep kiss. One session with her vigorous male never sated the voracious appetite beating within her core. Not since Ulric. “More.” She murmured between their tongues intertwining. “The sun will set soon.” He pressed his lips on her neck before capturing a nipple between his teeth. She massaged his shoulders. “I don’t care.” “Ulric intends to call you to the circle.” She shuffled out from under him. “What?” He whimpered as she broke the contact between them, and she noted the sadness in his eyes. “Why is he doing it?” Rosabel paced in the cave. Would going through any ritual Ulric had planned break the bond she shared with Conall? “To present you to the council.” Conall sighed. ”It’s what we are bound to do. The small amount of passion you enjoyed will be a mere crumb compared to what the others have planned.” Rosabel stood up and fixed her clothing. Did Ulric only think of her as a possession? Did he not feel the surge of unbridled passion between them every time they touched? Since the small meeting at the bakery, she’d wanted him to be the one until her mating with Conall. “I’m not some object to be passed around.” She tied her red cloak on. “You can tell your prince that.” “Someday you will learn your place as I have.” “My place?” She assessed him but quelled the urge to play with his nestled cock, to come with him one last time before the night broke. Instead, she picked up her basket and gave him a parting glance. “I can’t choose if I must. I will not.” “You have no choice.” “And you would give me up so easily?” He lowered his head. She stormed out of the cave, angry that her torrid emotions and the meaning behind it. Her heart pined for two men. One dominated her, mixing passionate agony with titillating ecstasy. The other would bow to her whims and showed her other ways to achieve pleasure.

To talk to her grandmother concerning her wanton desires was out of the question. Nana had warned her to stay away from the werewolves who owned the forest. How many times had she said they would eat her alive? How could she admit to her grandmother that she was right but that they hadn’t devoured her flesh in manner the stories spoke of? They courted her in their ways, enticing the most heavenly things from her flesh. They had taken her very soul.

Chapter Eight In the kitchen, Rosabel silently rolled out the dough for the berry pies for the bakery. Mr. Bonnet would expect a delivery. Back well before dusk, she delved into baking. Just as she had been after mating with Ulric, her lovemaking with Conall gave her a renewed strength. She’d arrived home before the noon sun peaked. Nana smiled at her from the other side of the table. “My, you’re usually full of questions when we bake.” Nana tapped her wooden spoon on the pot. Rosebel shivered, wondering how the utensil would feel against her bare ass. She flushed at the thought. “It’s just different baking here instead of in town.” Nana shook her head. “You’re safer here.” Would her grandmother be so protective if she realized that the wolves had already claimed her granddaughter? She frowned. “The ridicule is nothing, Nana. It will pass. I only wonder why? One man was going to drop his token in my basket yet changed his mind. Why?” Sighing, Rosabel carved into the dough and latticed it over the top of the pies. “Who’s to say? Next year will be different.” “Will it? Why am I so different than anyone else?” “You are not.” “But I am.” Rosabel ripped off her apron and threw it on the counter. “I feel it inside me. I am more comfortable in the confines of the forest than anywhere else. Who am I, Nana? Please tell me who I am.” Nana took Rosabel’s hands in hers. “You are Rosabel. A young lady I have raised as my own since you were left on my stoop some eighteen years ago. Your parents left you to my care to protect you from what lives in that forest. The beauty you see only masks the danger. Can’t you see that?” “You should get these pies to town, Nana.” Rosabel pulled away. Her grandmother would never tell her the truth. She packed the unbaked goods into wooden boxes. “Give Mrs. Bonnet my best.” “Rosabel.” “I’m okay, Nana.” How easy the lies fell from her lips. “You cannot tarry longer. Dusk approaches sooner now.”

In silence, she helped load the small wagon and gave Nana one last hug. It would be the last embrace she shared with the woman under her roof. When Ulric summoned her tonight, she would not look back on the life she lead. She would accept the union blessed by the forest around her. She only needed to choose which male she wanted more. A smile came to her lips at the memory of Ulric. Worry creased her brow as Conall’s chiseled features came to mind. How could she choose between them? “Nana?” “Yes?” The old woman grabbed the reins to the horse attached to the cart. “Is it possible to love two people the same?” Rosabel avoided eye contact. She had convictions on the subject matter but her grandmother had more experience than she in love. “I suppose but when it comes to sharing your life, you must decide who is more worthy. Jealousy makes a horrible bedmate.” “How will I know when it’s love?” Her heart pounded for two males. Her head made no conclusion on which stoked her fire the most. Nana chuckled. “My dear, the man will sweep you off your feet without laying one finger on you. That is how you will know.” Nana gave a slight slap of the reins. Rosabel stepped back to allow the cart to move forward. Rosabel’s shoulders lowered. “One day, Nana, I will be with my true love. He will call to me and I will know.” Back inside, she ran her fingers over the velvet of her cloak. She settled it on her, and she smiled at the memories of being deep in the woods with her werewolf lovers. Staring out the window, her breath caught. She spotted Conall’s in the dense brush. Rustling a few feet from his spot drew her attention. Transformed into human form, Ulric crooked a finger at her before connecting his hands in the shape of a circle. She lowered her head in acceptance to his summoning. Despite her uninhibited nature around Ulric or Conall, too much centered on one man and woman joining. Even if she could choose between her two lovers, how would the town treat her if they knew she’d allowed a werewolf to mark her? To her knowledge, and the legends, no such couplings had happened before.

What did it feel like for Conall or Ulric to assume their beast form? Some pain must be involved for such a transformation. Rosabel had to save up her energy for Ulric’s summoning. She had a lot to prove to her lover. Lying down on her bed, she closed her eyes and let sleep come.

Chapter Nine The forest stretched out before her and the wind caressed her face as she took off in a heated run. The full moon hung in a tranquil black sky. To either side, wolves kept pace. She expected them to snap at her ankles or take her down but they galloped on. Rosabel entered the circle Ulric had stirred her soul in. Two wolves circled her, nuzzling in close. A howl rose above the canopy, resonating between them all. Her vision blurred and warped around her, pain cracking each bone and snapping sinew. She cried out as she fell, tumbling to the earthy ground. The cool breeze tickled her exposed skin, and two shadows hovered over her. Conall and Ulric lapped at her flesh, their hands gliding over the smooth surface. One devoted attention to her swollen breasts, taut with need. The other swirled his tongue along her slit. Both coaxed a heated scream of pleasure from her. She reveled in their tender embrace and accepted rapture’s gift.

Chapter Ten Rosabel awoke with a start. Her legs burned as though she’d run a long distance, and her mouth tasted like cotton but her body shivered in the afterglow of pure blissful sin. Had it been a dream? She got out the bed and wandered to the kitchen for a drink. She stilled as the moonbeams glimmered across the polished wooden counters. Her feet swift, she raced outside. Through the dead of night, she lengthened her strides to reach the forest. The gathering circle was miles away. Frantically, she searched for the little white pebbles to light her way. Lungs heaving, she stumbled for a moment as the baying started. Ulric had sent his brethren to track her down. A wolf snarled ahead, and she changed directions as they corralled her to a smaller clearing. Blocked on all sides, she sank to her knees. Ulric strode out of the packs of wolves, his eyes glittering dangerously. “Can you not obey one simple command?” “Please.” She prostrated herself. “I fell asleep. I beg forgiveness, Master.” “Leave us.” He snarled to the rest of the pack. The sound of paws padding away quieted, and he cupped her chin. Ulric regarded her with calculating eyes. “Strip.” She tugged at her clothes and threw them at his feet. The anticipation of lying down on the grass with him caused her nipples to harden. Remembering the vivid dream enhanced the desire welling. When he did not reciprocate, she covered her nakedness the best she could against whoever watched unseen from the woods. Why was he not igniting the inferno with one touch? “No.” He smirked. “Stand straight and do not hide from me.” Her eyes widened at the command but as the collar tingled, itching its way to her sex, she got to her feet. Ulric snapped his teeth, and a low rumble left his throat. Rosabel wet her lips, noticing the growing bulge in his pants. He bent to the ground and picked up a switch. She sighed as he dragged it between her swelling breasts. “Bend over.” She compiled and gasped immediately as the twig slapped across her ass. The delicious sting caused gooseflesh to erupt over her entire body. Ulric whacked her again on each cheek taking the time to

smooth his hand over her tenderness. Her anticipation lingered, yearning for him to press the tip of his cock into her pussy. “Put on your cloak.” She moaned her disappointment in his choice, and the switch smacked into her bottom. She snatched her red shield up and swung it about her shoulders. Ulric, grim-faced, stood before her and raised the hood. He leaned in and crushed his lips on hers. The kiss ended far too abrupt, Rosabel barely able to savor the taste of him. “So beautiful.” He caressed her mouth with his thumb before hooking a leash to her collar. “Come. I have someone who wishes to meet you. Behave and I shall reward you.” She lowered her head in submission, a natural act with Ulric. The way he towered over her demanded obedience but the promise of his touch, his attention made her a willing participant. With Conall, she would have laughed and told him what she wished happen. Giving in to Ulric had made her a puppet to his whim, not that she’d minded his marionette play thus far. The wolves fell in line to either side of them. Rosabel stayed two steps behind Ulric, enjoying the tautness of his pants. He chuckled. “Patience, my princess.” He tugged on her leash, and she jogged to catch up to his side. “When we get to the circle, you will stand in the middle and removed your cloak. Remain perfectly still.” “Yes, Master.” Another wave of pleasure rippled through the collar. The magic in the bejeweled object had given Ulric the ability to reward her without caressing her skin directly. She resolved to please him further. Anything to have him pressed against her in the throes of passion. As they entered the clearing, howls of appreciation filled the air. Rosabel trembled at the sight of near one hundred wolves lined up along the rim. Some transmuted to their human form as Ulric paraded her around the circle before leading her to the center. He unclipped the leash and took two steps back. At his nod, she undid the lacings and the cloak tumbled to the ground. Bathing in moonlight, she remained still as the howling turned to maddening levels. Ulric swung the leash in his hand, grinning, and walked to the outer portion. Several of the men approached her, hunger bright in their lustful stares.

Their nostrils flared. They closed on her, almost touching her bare flesh. They inhaled her scent. Some growled as if an insatiable hunger gnawed their loins for a taste of the precious morsel before them. Others licked their lips but kept more of a distance. Rosabel thought the ritual strange, unsure of its meaning. Though the near contact should have aroused her as it did with Ulric or Conall, none of the males jolted her with sexual energy. Looking to her lover, he noticed her confusion too and by the smug grin, it pleased him. Conall had told her that Ulric’s pack would have their way with her. The mere whiff of her musk would cause them to lose control. He had lied. Why? When the wave of males ceased, Ulric strutted to her and replaced her fallen cloak. “No one else has laid claim to you, Rosabel. You are mine beyond our mating.” She wanted to yell at him, to scream that he was mistaken. Conall declared his intentions, and she’d taken them as well. Another resided in her heart. Ulric’s vanity enraged her. As her lips parted to defiance, the tiniest of sound came out. “Yes, Master.” He hooked the leash on her again and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Later we will have more time for me to reward you.” He brushed her hair aside. She marched behind him, the long trek daunting without her clothes. Ulric stopped, and she almost ran into his back. He scooped her up across his shoulder. “I do not want your grandmother to worry where you’ve been.” “I’m not going back there, Ulric. Please, take me with you. This is where I belong.” The forest behind her shrunk as Ulric took off at a breathtaking speed. Trees appeared and vanished in a blur until she tilted forward. Back on her feet, she stared into his liquid gold eyes. Tentative, she touched his cheek and stood on her tiptoes. She pecked his lips, and he grinned. “We’ve grown bold.” He released the chain on her collar and drew her near for one of his heated kisses. She moaned, her hands seeking the ridged cock straining his pants. He put her at arm’s

length. “Not tonight, Rosabel. Tomorrow, we will make love under the last night of the full moon to consummate our union.” “I love you.” She breathed, the chilly air unnoticed in the warmth of her red cloak. She meant every word. Werewolf or not, she couldn’t bear the thought of a life without him. Or Conall. Her soul was incomplete without both in her life. The whinnying of a horse drew her attention. A drawn carriage waited in the road. “I had hoped you would stay, Rosabel. It pleases me greatly.” He trailed kisses down her neck and paused. “No man has touched you?” “No man ever will, Master. I am yours.” “The carriage will take you to my home.” He wore a slight smile and handed her a bag. “Wear this to please me.” She took it and watched him transform before loping away into the forest. In the bag, she found leather and lace. Bright red and sure to be a tight fit, she hid it beneath her billowing cloak and gnawed on her lower lip. Ulric had left her clothes somewhere in the forest. The door creaked on the carriage as she approached. Rucksack in hand, Rosabel climbed into the coach. The horses jerked ahead, and she relaxed into the soft cushiony seat. Lost in the rhythm of the swaying ride, she almost missed the slowing of the pace. The door to the carriage swung open, and she bolted upright in her seat when a familiar scent hit her nostrils. Conall offered a toothy grin as he sat opposite of her. Rigid, she rocked when the coach started up again. The temperature inside became stifling, and his heavenly fragrance tempted her mind into playing wicked scenarios. Already she determined how many minutes the ride might take to get to Ulric’s home and whether or not she cared if someone caught them in a compromising position. “How did your acceptance go last night?” Conall kept his hands on his thighs, making no move to claim her. “Were you not there?” She opened her cloak for some relief from the heat of desire building inside. He pursed his lips. “I thought it unwise to join in.” “Why?” She scooted forward. “What purpose was there to Ulric’s test? You lied when you said other males would desire me. Why?”

“When I’m around you, I cannot help myself. I need you. I want to touch and taste your skin, feel the heat of your flesh against mine.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “If Ulric finds out, there will be a challenge.” “Challenge? Is that all I am to you? A prize to be claimed?” Her fingers curled into fists. She drew in a shuddering breath. “Why can I not enjoy you both?” Conall shook his head. “It is impossible. You can only have one mate.” She choked back a laugh. “Now you sound like my grandmother.” She grimaced as bile rose in her throat. “I say I will never choose.” She rocked as the carriage turned down a winding path. “Ulric expects you tonight.” Conall’s features drooped. “Once you mate, I will not be able to touch you again.” Why would he give up so easily and not fight for her? Did she mean so little to him? The carriage came to a stop, and she rushed forward, her lips claiming their prize. Her legs to each side of him, she ground her pelvis on his hardening shaft. A rap on the top of the carriage broke the spell between them. Getting off, Rosabel adjusted her cloak. She opened the door with her pack in hand. She paused a moment before fixing Conall with a stern glare. She would not throw way what she felt deep in her heart for the foolish pride of men. “Conall. I shall expect you here within the hour. You will help me prepare for Ulric.” Giving him no room to protest, she hopped out of the wagon.

Chapter Eleven Ulric’s home was grandiose. The flower beds were welltended and the masonry walls impeccable. Compared to the cottage she grew up in, it was like a castle. Keeping her cloak around her to hide her nakedness, she entered as a tall slender man held the door open for her. The inside did nothing to prepare her for the inside. A large room greeted her with a long staircase to the left. Various fur rugs lined the room with cushioned seats and a huge archway led into the kitchen. Just from inside the door, she could see it was at least three times as big as the one she was used to. “Your room is upstairs, my lady. Third on the left.” A small petite woman, wearing a simple white dress bow slightly to her, swept her arm to the stairs. “Thank you.” Rosabel ascended the stairs. At the third door, she hesitated. Would one of her mates be waiting on the other side? She swung the door wide. An empty room showed back. For all its finery, it didn’t have the one element she craved—her werewolf lovers. She paced the hollow bedroom, every nook more confining than the last. Her body sang with the trees and impeding night with Ulric down to the tiniest ache in her bones. His scent lingered on her senses as she paced in her bedroom, the outfit Ulric commanded she wear spread out on her comforter. Intricate patterns of lace coupled with leather, in the red Ulric so adored, framed the bodice. Her breasts, though supported, would spill over the top of the near see-through garment. Sheer stockings and a garter to hold them up, would just peek over the near thigh-high boots. Coiled tight between it all was a soft length of silk rope, much like the first Ulric had bound her with. A creak at her bedroom turned her head. She smiled at the tentative Conall. She grabbed his hand and led him into her washroom. Steam rose from the bath she’d prepared. She threw off her cloak and instructed Conall to strip. She expected a slow erotic tease from her lover but he ripped off his clothes in haste. His manhood pulsed beneath the curls, and her mouth hungered for just a taste. It took all her composure to step her feet into the tub instead of falling to her knees to suckle on his cock. Her unsteady hand pointed to the sponge and soap near the basin.

“Wash me.” Conall retrieved the items and kneeled near the bath. Plunging the sponge in, he scrubbed the soap onto it. The water ran freely as he glided the sponge up her leg and in between. He scooped the water and splashed it to rinse off the residue. Rosabel moved the bare minimum, watching her lover bend and rise as he caressed her body. She pried the sponge from him. “In the tub. Behind me.” She wrapped his arms around her as he sunk, squeezing a bit of glycerin from a jar into his hand. She moaned as she pressed his palms to her swollen breasts. The heat from the touch showed as steamy tendrils rose from the tender stroking. Under her guidance, he massaged the soap over her chest. His ramrod member brushed against her backside, and she arched toward the seeking shaft. Conall licked at the almost invisible bite mark on her neck. “I can’t, Rosabel.” He shifted away, and she turned to face him as he left the warmth of the tub. She bent down and rinsed the soap off her skin. Just one more rapturous night with Conall before she gave herself to Ulric was all she craved. “Why?” Her voice strained. Conall tied his pants. “Because he will never share you.” She shivered as he met her gaze. Gone were the golden globes lanced with his desire. Liquid pools of the deepest blue replaced them, the hurt etched on every inch. How could he give up on her so easily? Wrapped in a towel, she trudged to the bedroom to get dressed, holding back her tears of disappointment. He followed like a long shadow. As she settled the corset underneath her breasts, Conall worked the clasps. Dutifully, he prepared her for the meeting with Ulric. Poised on the edge of the bed, she cupped his chin. “One last kiss, my love, before my heart breaks.” He climbed on top of her as she fell back. Her mouth opened wide to invite his delving tongue, and she groaned as the warmth of his body melted into her. Far from ready for it to end, she wiped a tear from her cheek when he drew away. In front of the mirror, she checked over the details of her outfit. Her ample bosom, supported by the bone corset, spilled over the top. The garter cut across the dark curl of her unclothed sex. The snaps held the nylons in place. A bit of them stuck out the boots.

A bell tolled in the house. Three strokes echoing through the halls. “It’s his summoning.” Conall laid a crimson silk cloak on her shoulders, completing the stunning image of a lady in red. “I’m ready.” Putting her arm around his broad shoulders, she lifted herself in the cradle of his embrace. Her escort to the clearing. The lover she enjoyed too few times. Soft satin whispered on her skin, and she held the rope that Ulric would tighten against her body. As the baying of the werewolves cried out in the forest, she nuzzled closer to Conall. “I will always love you, Conall.” “And I you,” he whispered. “That’s why I have to do this. Forgive me.” Her booted feet hit the ground. Blinking, Rosabel took in the multitude of werewolves in various stages of shifting and undress. The most striking detail was the lack of women. She alone represented the feminine side. For a moment, her breath stuck in her throat, thinking another test at hand. Glancing behind for support, her heart ached when Conall no longer stood there. “Rosabel, my love.” Ulric’s smooth tone had her attention immediately. “Master.” She bowed her head. “You look more delicious than I ever imagined.” A mask covered part of his face, much like the first night he’d caught her in the woods. Her chest heaved as his fingers parted the silky cloak to caress her exposed breasts. He took the red rope before nibbling on her ear. The dampness started between her legs in anticipation of what Ulric had planned for her. If he rode her in front of the gathered werewolves, she’d shiver in pleasure just as hard. She craved the carnal and scrumptious intoxication of their unification. “I want nothing more than to give you your reward.” He brushed her hand over his bulging crotch. “But I must attend a meeting with the other leaders concerning our union. When one of my pack brings you the bindings, follow his instructions on where to go, and I will meet you.” “Yes, Master.” “Your scent this evening tempts me so.” He nuzzled at her neck, and she clutched at him for support. The wild abandon

brimming to the surface threatened to have her wrap her legs around his waist to take her fill. “I do not know how long I can wait for your touch, my love.” “Soon.” He urged her to sit before leaving her alone. No one paid her any mind sitting on a moss-covered rock under the shade of a tree. Her gaze stayed on Ulric as he spoke with a few older werewolves. She caught him glancing at her a couple of times. Hope bloomed in her heart at each head turn. She wanted him to whisk her away for a night in each other’s arms. With Conall conceding the contest, she only had Ulric to stroke the fire within, and she pined for it to roar anew. A shadow crossed over her, and she looked up. Another werewolf, a mask hiding his features and the distinctive mark of Ulric’s pack on his pectoral, held out the red silk cord for her to take. “Your master requests your presence in the east clearing. He said to inform you to be ready.” She hid the rope within the billows of her cloak as she stood. Keeping her tender flesh out of sight, she began her journey to the spot where Ulric would meet her. Anticipation electrified her veins and the devilish acts Ulric might perform on her with the cord heightened her senses. Stepping into the clearing, the same where he had claimed her virginity, she knelt down in the center. She positioned the cloak around her and stretched out her palmed hands with the cord dangling from them. An offering for her demanding lover and she hoped he’d use it well. The rustle of leaves quickened her breath. One pair of legs approached her, and no other beast presented itself to watch her. Just her and Ulric, her lover for life. He took the rope, and she slid her gaze up the length of his naked flesh. The mask still sat on his face, his smirk just beneath. Without a word, he undid her cloak and laid it out on the ground. The rope landed on top of it. Her body trembled, wanting that first caress from him as he paced. Behind her, he genuflected and pressed his lips to her neck. He suckled to the point of tingling pain. She gasped only to moan as his eager hands sought her breasts, kneading and gasping her hardening nipples. His teeth sank into her flesh as he covered her mouth to muffle her scream. Less excruciating than his previous mark of ownership, she flicked out her tongue on his palm. Hooking his arms

underneath her legs, he lifted her body off the ground and spread her out on the silk shroud. She sighed at the sight of his stiff cock within her grasp. She coaxed a guttural moan from his lips as she stroked his member before swallowing it whole. A squeal came out of her full mouth as he attacked her pussy with his wicked tongue. Juices spilled from her core, and she fought to maintain control. She massaged his taut shaft. He hissed over her, his hips almost driving his cock farther into her mouth before he moved away from her. He stalked, fisting his hair. Rosabel let out a cry of protest at first, rolling to all fours to get up. “What did I do wrong? Please, don’t stop.” Baying followed by a snarling bark crashed through her moment of near bliss, and a blur of tan flesh raced past her, knocking her would-be lover over. She jumped up and snatched the cloak off the ground to cover her body. Two masked naked men wrestled on the ground, flipping over and over to gain the advantage of being on top. They raked and clawed, the mask ripping free of one. “Conall.” She gasped. The lover lapping at her apex had been he instead of her dominating mate. Her feet stumbled toward the fighting pair only to stutter to a stop when Conall yanked the mask off his attacker. Ulric. Her master’s muscles flexed as he drove Conall’s face to the ground. Tears streamed down her face, caught between calling out for her iniquitous lover and her tender one. Conall had tried to make her choose by first rebuking her love, then tricking her into believing him Ulric. Did he believe she would shove him away if the deception had been found out? Ulric, on the other hand, had her devotion and heart at his first caress. Seeing the pair bent on killing each other drove her to madness. “Stop!” She screamed at them, flinging her cloak aside. As Ulric kicked Conall down on the ground, Rosabel stood over his prone body. “Please stop, I beg you.” Her palms slapped against Ulric’s chest. Ulric’s features, cold and seething with anger, turned to confusion. “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to fight,” she begged. Conall slithered out from under her but remained on the ground.

“I am your mate, Rosabel. I claimed you, and he did not participate in the ritual to fight for the right to mate with you. He must die.” Ulric snarled and moved to go around her. She blocked his way. “No.” Ulric stepped back with a look of shock. “You defy me, the prince of the woods and your master?” “I am your mate, Ulric.” Her fierce stare melted into one of anguish. “I can’t let you kill him.” She hiccupped, blinking away the tears. “I can’t bear to see either of you dead.” “Then I’ll send him away.” “No.” She shook her head and shivered. Her glance shifted from Conall to Ulric. “Why must I choose between you? Why must either of you try to make the choice for me?” “It is the law of the forest.” Ulric gestured around him. She stomped over to Ulric. “I’ve been to the cave, and I saw the drawings. If you love me, Ulric, please do not lie to me.” He looked away from her and fidgeted. Conall growled behind her, and she turned, her anger rekindling. “Don’t.” She choked up, unable to keep her fury up in their presence. “Please. I love you both.” “Impossible.” Ulric came around and stood by Conall, his fists balled. United, they shared an uneasy alliance against the wiles of Rosabel. “Is it? That’s why you tested me.” She paced. “You had to find out if the drawings in the cave were true. I have mated with both of you so you have no choice.” She prodded both men with a finger. “Which one of you tore the pages from the book in the attic?” Conall refused to meet her gaze, and she nodded. “Either you learn to share or I will return to the cottage never to see any of you again.” Both men look cowed for a brief moment. Ulric chuckled. “I doubt that.” He poked Conall in the ribs, and the other werewolf smirked. “I agree with the prince.” Conall crossed his arms. Rosabel’s mouth worked, and she snatched her cloak from the ground. “Fine, you two grinning fools. I’m going home.” She whipped around and stamped toward the edge of the clearing. In a flash, Ulric appeared in front of her. Huffing, she turned heel only to run into Conall.

“I think our little red hooded mistress needs to be taught a lesson.” Ulric’s voice tickled her ear, and she jumped right into Conall’s arms. “Yes, I believe you’re right.” Conall lifted her chin. His lips smashed into hers, tongue seeking to gain access. All the tension washed away from her, and she groaned as Ulric’s hands sought the clasps holding her corset on. “We mustn’t let her escape.” Ulric sniffed at her hair before jerking her away from the kiss. “The rope, Conall.” She reached for the departing Conall, and her breath caught. Ulric nibbled at her neck sending rivulets of fire down her spine. He whipped her around to face him. His golden orbs ablaze with desire, she arched back and cried out as Ulric’s teeth clamped on her erect nipple. His tongue swirled over the swollen areola. Rosabel floated to the ground, her fingers tangled in his hair. Lids heavy with delight, she smiled at Conall as he knelt to offer a tender kiss. Ulric’s lips seared her flesh from stomach to sex and captured her clit. She squirmed at his decadent assault below her waist. His chuckle reverberated on the delicate flower. “Her taste is like no other.” Conall snapped the rope and trailed the fringe end along her chest. A small cry issued from her throat as she came. Grasping at Conall with trembling hands, her body shook with another wave from Ulric’s greedy kisses upon her pussy. Breathless, she lost herself in Conall’s heady gaze. “I shall have a taste of you.” She reached for his jutting cock, and he shook a finger at her. With Ulric’s help, he flipped her over. Rosabel protested but stretched out to welcome the lover at her backside’s randy cock. Instead, she received a hearty slap on the ass. “No. I shall have it now.” She attempted to wiggle into a better position to receive his girth. Another smack came. The juices pooled on the ground as they placed her arms along her back. The rope crisscrossed to bind them together, and she relaxed, the cool feel of silk exciting her. “My little temptress.” Ulric smoothed his palm on her ass. “Do you want it?” “Yes.” She panted. “Please, Ulric.” A whimper escaped her lips as his cock caressed her opening. The tip rubbed against her clit before plunging deep. She screamed in pleasure, rocking back to met each thrust of his shaft.

“More.” She implored struggling against the bounds holding her down. His manhood slid in and out, her walls tightening. “Conall.” She let out a cry of protest as Ulric slipped from her pussy. The bounds strengthened and Ulric nudged her to roll over. As she turned, the ropes tangled her farther. The red stockings adorning her legs ripped and tore but she didn’t care. Her goal was in sight and twitching in anticipation. Ulric’s strong hands grasped her buttocks and lifted her up. The smirk on his face hinted at mischief but she had other plans. Her tongue darted out of her mouth making a slow swipe along her lips. He groaned and howled at the skies before slamming his cock back into her welcoming pussy. She left the ground, Conall’s steady arms bearing her weight with the aid of the cord wrapped around her. Dropping her head back, she licked the dew beading of her second mate’s proud manhood. The manic thrusts of Ulric drove the other werewolf’s cock into her awaiting mouth. Her throat opened up to accommodate his length, mewing when the tip nearly slipped out. Separate, they captivated her with the beating of their hearts. Together she soared to new heights and found her insatiable appetite quenched by two men. Her hips moved in rhythm with Ulric and her tongue lapped at Conall’s offering. The grunt of exertion neared for her lovers into a wail of completion. She shattered, body tensing. Conall’s shaft jerked, the sweet salty taste of his semen filling her. She swallowed it, savoring the flavor as he slipped out. Ulric’s fingers dug into her flesh as he flexed one last time. She felt the warm splash inside her womb, and he held her close, his chest heaving. They lowered her to the ground and nuzzled against her skin. The bounds slipped away, and she lay content between her two lovers. She stretched between them, her muscles sore. “You can never go back.” Ulric pressed his lips on her shoulder. “I have no reason to now.” In her heart, she knew her life in the human world had come to an end. A prickling twinge rippled down her back, and she pushed herself up. Her brow creased and panic set in as another stab of pain hit her. The men she’d tied her life to chuckled, moving a small distance away.

Before her eyes, they morphed and twisted into their wolf forms. As they snarled, her vision blurred, and she cried out. Stabbing agony gripped her, and she curled into a ball. The throbbing intensified, pushing her to the brink of unconsciousness, and she opened her mouth to scream. A howl echoed through the trees as Rosabel staggered to her feet. Both Ulric and Conall nudged her, nearly toppling her over. Whirling around, she caught a glimpse of fur and froze. Looking to where her hands should have been, she gazed on fuzzy paws. The cave paintings. Rosabel’s laugh came out as a bark as she lopped around the clearing in her changed form. Charging Conall, she willed her body to change in midflight. They stumbled to the ground as humans and Ulric walked over. “I would have never thought it possible for two men to share one woman.” She took his offered hand and stood up. “Why did she never tell me what I was?” Conall joined the union. “Because you were never one of them, Rosabel. The woman who you knew as your grandmother protected you from our kind. Females are rare.” “She stole her.” A rumble started in Ulric’s belly. The tension between them waxed and waned, one sniff of her scent calming the brooding males. “Females of our species are rare. When a female is born of our kind, they are sent away because sometimes their wolf does not manifest.” Conall continued, “Your grandmother had good intentions at heart.” Ulric snorted. “Says you.” “Men.” She rolled her eyes. “I think our little woman needs another lesson.” Conall traced his fingers on her backside. “Agreed.” Ulric grinned. Rosabel yelped as they crashed to the ground, limbs intertwining in passionate embrace. Her lovers touch and unbridled attention gave her all she ever needed or wanted.

Chapter Twelve “Must I?” Rosabel turned the vial over in her hands, frowning. Ulric brushed her cheek. “This will give her another chance at life and love. Would you not want her to be happy?” Conall took the vial from her and looped a piece of string to it. He tied it around her neck. “You must approach her in wolf form so that she knows you can never return to the life you once had.” She glanced at both her mates, still stark naked from the previous night. Her hand circled her belly. More than once Ulric had planted his seed deep within her womb. The realization that she might have to make the same choice her parents made someday pained her. Rosabel took comfort in Ulric’s arms. Conall pressed behind her. Both men accepted her need to have both of them in her life. The least she could do was confront Nana on what she had become. “All right.” She winced as the transformation took hold of her body. She had to believe her mates that the transition would come more tolerable over time. For now, their bond dampened the pain. Poised in her wolf form, she took off. The graying colors of the forest greeted her in a panoramic view. The white fence surrounding the cottage in view, Rosabel bounded toward it before leaping in the air to clear it. Nana bent over the garden patch, tending the soil Rosabel should have prepared. She growled to get the old woman’s attention. At seeing a wolf, Nana held the trowel like a knife in front of her. “Back to the forest where you belong, beast. I have no quarrel with you.” Rosabel shifted, her form rising up until it took a human shape. The vial swayed from her neck. Nana fell to the earth sobbing. “Surely you are not surprised, Nana. You’ve known all along what I was, haven’t you?” Rosabel moved closer and offered hand to help Nana off the ground. “It doesn’t mean I have to accept it.” Nana wrapped Rosabel in a fierce hug. “How I’ve missed you.” “I am mated to them now. I cannot stay.” Rosabel pulled her back and wiped the tears from the elder’s cheeks. “I come bearing a gift.” She removed the vial from her neck. “What’s this?”

“It is possible that I am with child and should it be female, my mate would like to trust you to her care until her birthright shows. But you must promise to return her the minute she shows signs.” Nana shook her head. “I am far too old to raise another infant, Rosabel. I cannot do this.” “Yes, you can.” She held out the vial again, the clear liquid inside glinting in the sunlight. “This potion will restore your youth. Please, for all you’ve done for me, please take it.” Nana kept her hands at her side. “Are you happy, Rosabel?” “Incredibly so.” She smiled with bliss. “They have made me happy.” “They?” Rosabel blushed. Nana’s mouth hung open for a moment before she took the potion. “I accept, my Rosabel.” Nana uncorked the vial and drank it down. Her features warped and shifted, the age withering away from her skin. Rosabel drew in a sharp breath as she stared at a near identical face as hers. Except for her blonde locks, Nana could pass as Rosabel with ease. Her grandmother half-smiled. “They trust me.” She nodded to the woods. “Because I am one who did not shift. Your mother, Rosabel, was my sister. When her mate died, she couldn’t bear submitting to another so she fled and left you in my care. I had hoped, for her sake, that you would show no signs.” “I am truly happy, Nana.” “Good. I would hate to have need for a wolf hide in my living room.” The reborn Nana smirked. “Go to your mates, dear. May you bear them many sons.” “Thank you again for everything.” She wrapped her in another hug before departing. Rosabel disappeared into the forest. Shifting, she ran along the trail soon joined by her mates. She gave a howl and took off, causing them to give chase. She intended to make love to them for the rest of the day but would not submit easily. In her new world, her mates would have to work for their prize. The End

Other Books by Kasil Eavenshade: Midnight Seduction Midnight Seduction: Manlove Edition

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