Rutledge Werewolves 1: Scent of Passion (21 page)

Noticing her elevated breathing and dilated pupils, as she fondled and played with his cock, Artemais surreptitiously removed the cuffs. Wiggling his fingers, he realized the furred cuffs had kept his blood flow perfectly intact. Other than a tiny ache in his upper arm muscles from straining against the restricted posture while he came, the cuffs had worked perfectly. He made a mental note to complement Sally on her choice of adult toys.

Slowly and carefully, Artemais reached down to stroke Sophie’s cheek in the same intimate, gentle manner she stroked his cock.

It took her a few seconds to realize his hands were supposed to be bound. He could tell the exact second her brain registered the fact that his hands were in fact unbound. Her eyes widened, she sat up, mouth open.

Quickly levering his body so he flipped her over, coming down on top of her, Artemais grinned.

“Hmm…what say we finish this a bit quicker than you were thinking, eh?”

“Hey!” Sophie complained indignantly, “that’s not fair. How did you get out of them? I didn’t hear them break!”

“There’s a release catch on them, love. They’re a gag item, not meant to be used seriously.”

Artemais laughed as Sophie stuck her tongue out at him.

“Next time, I’ll use William’s cuffs,” she promised.

Bending down, unable to resist kissing her a moment longer, Artemais wallowed in her taste and scent. He could smell himself on her, and it made his cock harden even more.

Fondling her, he found her soaking, and perfectly ready for him. Ripping her panties from her, he pressed two fingers deep inside her. He gloried in her sharp intake of breath, the way in which she arched into his intimate caress.

“Oh my. I don’t think I want to wait anymore, Artemais.”

Pumping into her slowly, but steadily, Artemais brought her to the brink of climax, then removed his fingers carefully.

Gasping, face and body flushed, Sophie grabbed his arm, determinedly pulling him back to her.

“Don’t!” she chocked out, “Please! Artemais…”

Not touching her, Artemais lent down and pressed his lips against hers. When she struggled to pull him closer, for his skin to contact her, he resisted.

“What do you want, Sophie?”

“You,” she choked out, impatient.

“What about me? I’m right here, love.”

“I want your cock, hot and deep and so far inside me that I can’t tell where you end and I start. I want you pumping inside me, so I can feel every inch of you filling and completing me. Right
now
.”

Turned on by her hot words, he thrust himself into her in one long stroke. Pressing himself into her, he joined them from hip to mouth. Pulling her hips higher up to meet his cock’s demands, he thrust into her, over and over until she shattered and climaxed in his arms. Barely pausing to let her catch her breath, he continued his strokes, long and even, until she was writhing again in his embrace.

“Oh, Lord. Just come, Artemais! Please! You’re killing me with this pleasure.”

Unable to hold himself back any longer, as he felt the first contractions of her pussy squeeze his cock, he let himself go, and shot into her, two, then three times.

They both clung to each other, tightly. Spent, Artemais collapsed next to her, reaching down to pull up the covers. Tangling his arms and legs around her, he pulled his Sophie as close to him as possible, considering she was still half dressed. “Tomorrow we can go back to the city and move your stuff in here. We can also start arranging the wedding, signing whatever needs to be done. Then we can inform the village. They can help out with whatever you need, Soph. Is that okay?”

She murmured sleepily. Artemais kissed her, and resolved to talk it out with her the following morning.

His mate wrapped safely and protectively in his arms, one hand lying on her stomach, protectively over his son, Artemais fell asleep.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Friday Evening—The Full Moon.

Roland stood in the middle of the forest. Surrounded on all sides by the huge, centuries-old oak, elm and pine trees, he breathed in deeply a lung full of clean, pure air. Feeling pleasurably dwarfed by the trees, he tipped his head upwards to stare at the sky.

The midnight blue canopy stretched seemingly from here into eternity. The more Roland searched the sky, the deeper he could see. Tiny silver stars glinted like diamonds, scattered helter-skelter throughout the deep midnight blue of the sky.

It was beautiful. He would love to bring Helene out here. Maybe in a few weeks he could. Already he felt more at peace. With Helene and their son out here with him he would make a faster recovery. The time had finally come for them to bond together as a family.

Feeling a faint touch on his shoulder, he turned; surprised he had become so engrossed in something as common as the night sky and his own long-suppressed fantasies. Artemais stood behind him, his brothers and other members of his Pack from the Village around him.

“You ready?”

Nodding, Roland could feel the power in this moment. The truth of understanding himself, and maybe one day, his mother. He could almost feel her, her spirit close by, attached somehow to these woods. She seemed peaceful, at rest. It sidetracked him and made him feel better.

Roland felt a strange pulling of power, from over to the East. Turning, wondering what was happening, he saw the huge silvery moon rise up over the horizon. Slowly, almost teasingly, like the most beautiful of stripteases, bit-by-bit she exposed herself to him and the others gathered.

After what seemed like years, but probably only lasted a few minutes, the huge, rounded full moon hung just over the horizon, and Roland’s gaze could not waver from her beauty.

The pale glow around her edges, the tiny crevices and dints in her pale face, every single thing about the moon suddenly captured his heart and his attention. He could feel the silvery power wash over him, heat his blood and snare his utmost attention.

The scents of the wood converged upon him, the scent of the damp earth, the woodsy scent of the trees, the animal/man smell of those people around him. One by one the scents bombarded him, and still he could not remove his eyes from the full moon.

He felt his skin shiver, a sensation unlike any he had ever experienced. The scents rushed upon him, and he felt the strongest urge to go explore them, to follow wherever they might lead him.

“I’ll be right behind you Roland, so don’t worry about anything. Just let it all flow.”

The words Artemais said reminded him of the safety and security his mother had always offered him as a baby. She had always said she would watch over him, be with him. Funny how he had shut all those memories of her love and devotion to him out, he should have realized long ago that she would never have left him.

As he felt a huge charge of love for his mother wash over him, a total acceptance of her desires and choices, he felt a rippling across his skin and through his muscles. Looking down at his arms, everything seemed to happen at once.

A blinding pain broke through his every bone and muscle simultaneously. He cried out—not fully understanding what was going on—and then he fell to the ground.

It took him a moment for his brain to register the melding and shifting of bones and tissues. And then the scents of the forest were sharpened a thousand fold. Scents were richer, deeper. It was almost as if he could
see
the scents that permeated the world. The moon seemed to sing at him, call to him, beckon him to play, to explore, to hunt.

Roland threw back his head and howled, in joy and discovery. The other wolves and people still surrounding him followed suit, howling to the earth and the moon. Artemais—still in his man form—stood right beside him, and bent down onto one knee.

“Go for it, Roland. I’ll change and follow you, keep a watch on you. This is your night.”

While Roland pondered how he could be a wolf and still understand the human words, he stared as Artemais shimmered, much as he figured he had himself, and within the blink of the eye he moved from man to wolf.

The human part of Roland’s brain registered, “
Wow, that was neat!
” but his animal instincts were fully in control.

He lifted his head, sniffed, and ran off after a scent of game he found.

Throughout the night, Roland explored, followed and tracked. It felt so similar to his dreams, but so much more intense! Everything lived, breathed, seemed to have a beat and pulse. He could see and sense things he had never thought of, never imagined.

And always in the background, like a radio playing music, was the ever humming, silvery, shimmery face of the moon. She presided over everything like a devoted mother, watching over her charges.

Roland barely took notice of Artemais tagging his steps. Every now and then, when he strayed too close to a home with a family inside, Artemais would jump in, nudging and snapping at his feet like a protective daddy, herding him away. But for the most part, Roland was given free rein to go where he pleased, do what he wished, hunt small game and wallow in the scents of the forest and the earth.

Hours later, Roland found himself back near the clearing where he had started. The moon hung low in the western sky, its humming muted now, still discernable, but definitely waning. Feeling a sadness that his freedom was coming to a close, Roland faced the setting moon and howled. He thanked the moon, the earth and the forest.

Artemais had padded over to what Roland assumed were his brothers. Standing alone on one edge of the woods, he joined his cry of thanks to the moon with many of the other wolves present.

Before he could wonder how he would change back, Roland noticed a silver movement just to the edge of his vision.

From the shadows of the woods a huge, silver wolf emerged. Large and old, he stood firm and proud. His blue eyes glinted in the predawn light. Catching sight of him, the old wolf came beside him.

Roland had the unnerving sensation of being sized up. It was as if the older wolf weighed and judged him for something. He stared back, unconcerned.

Throughout the evening he had felt the loving presence of his dead mother, but more importantly, he simply
knew
Helene had reached him, understood just how special and pivotal this night had been for him. No matter what, he knew he had taken the first baby steps towards truly accepting and understanding what he was.

Roland knew with the help of these people, and the love of his Helene, he could start a new life, together with Edward. Tonight was simply the beginning.

The confidence of the knowledge of Helene’s love and acceptance helped him meet the eyes of this large wolf. The old wolf made a motion with his head, and nipped at Roland’s feet. Looking back at Artemais, Roland knew the acceptance and almost reverence of the Pack towards this wolf meant no harm would come to him.

Willingly he followed the older wolf deep into the woods.

They meandered further and further into the woods. After a while, they came to a tiny, rundown cottage. The big old wolf paused outside, then sat on his haunches. Roland also sat waiting for he knew not what.

As the moon sank over the horizon, he felt the now familiar tingling that proceeded the rippling of his skin. Shivering in the cold, Roland looked down to his very human body, pale and glowing in the darkness. A bit bashful over his nakedness, he looked over to the naked old man sitting across the dirt from him.

The old man appeared totally unconcerned of his nudity. He motioned with his head for Roland to follow him into the cabin. Entering the surprisingly warm cabin, he donned the offered shirt and jeans.

“I got these from your Helene. She and your son will be arriving in a few days. We have a lot to talk about between now and then, but I think we both need some sleep first. I’m not as young as I once was. You’re welcome to the main bed. I’ll sleep on the futon out here.”

Roland winced.

“No, really. I can sleep out here—”

“Don’t be daft, boy. It won’t make an ounce of difference to me. We can talk later in the day. Better be off, boy. I only need four hours sleep. You need more than that to recuperate.”

Roland looked at the older man carefully. He really
looked
at him. He found absolutely nothing, with any of his senses, to make him concerned. Added to that he trusted Artemais. No way would he have helped him all this night and then let some fruitcake take him away. He could ask his questions later.

“Helene is okay?”

The old man nodded. “And your son is fine, too. Go to bed, boy.”

Roland shrugged and headed off to the bedroom. Time enough for questions later.

Epilogue

“
Aaaaarggghhh!
” Sophie moaned, obviously in pain.

“That’s wonderful, darling, just push
with
the contractions, not against them. Our son will only come when he’s good and ready.”

Sophie leveled a glance at Artemais that would have felled a lesser man.

“Our
daughter
can damned well be ready to come right now. I’ve had enough of this labor bullshit.”

Suddenly, an obviously brand-new, top-of-the-range with every-gadget-included digital camera was stuck in her face.