Mark of the Wolf

  “No bad thoughts,” he murmured, and she felt the tension leave her face. He threw a twenty down on the table and stood up, offering a hand to her. “Let’s go home.”

  Home. A word that had meant nothing but suffering for a long time, the opposite of what any home should be. But now she was going back to his house; to the old paint and the comfy leather couches. And his king-sized bed.

  She was nervous and her heart was beginning to pound – but she couldn’t wait.

  Chapter 6

  “Ouch that hurts,” she grimaced.

  “Hold still and it won’t,” he chided quietly.

  Maddy let out a huff of air and forced herself to sit still. Gareth’s hands were on her head and gently swabbing her wound with more alcohol. She wasn’t used to being fussed over and it was a little embarrassing, especially because she wanted to prove to him that she could take care of herself. She tried to move away again, reaching for her own cotton swab.

  “Here, I can do it,” she said, hastily grabbing the bag of cotton and reaching inside. “You don’t have to bother yourself.”

  He firmly plucked the bag from her hands and set it down, out of reach. “It’ll be over in a moment,” he said, still calm and smooth. “Now turn this way.”

  She tilted her head as he had asked and tried to ignore the way his muscles rippled. It wasn’t really the wound that was bothering her, or his treatment of it; rather it was the way her body sang when he was this close. She was desperate for him to touch her — though she could never just ask him too. She wondered if she was becoming addicted.

  And then he would brush her so casually, sending little sparks of fire through her system, pleasure washing over her skin. The reaction was extreme, far too heightened; she didn't know how to handle it. She wanted to be closer to him, but she wasn’t letting herself, and that was maybe the most annoying part of all.

  Gareth started unrolling the gauze and wrapped it around the side of her head, a duplicate of her old bandage, though not quite as heavy. He sat back when he was finished.

  The TV was flashing pictures at them, though it was on mute. He had a loud speaker system but she had yet to see him use it. She slid back on the old couch, sinking into the slick leather, but really she just wanted some space between them. She couldn’t make up her mind what to do about how she was feeling, so she did what came most naturally – creep away.

  He got up and threw away her old bandages, and when he came back, she found that he had changed out of his jeans and T-shirt and into the gray sweatpants that she had worn yesterday, along with a white, sleeveless undershirt. The shirt displayed his arms perfectly, each curve and slope of muscle, every cut. The tattoos stood out clearly against his skin, black ink, intricate symbols and what appeared to be a moon at its center.

  “Interesting tattoos,” she commented, figuring she had to say something since he had noticed her staring.

  He glanced at them. “They’re pack tattoos… every pack member has to get them.” He sat down next to her again, close on the couch, though he allowed her to keep some space between them. She waited for him to keep talking, but instead he reached for the remote and turned on the volume, then began flipping channels.

  Maddy was surprised. She kept expecting something crazy to happen, but instead here she was, finishing out a wild day in front of a big-screen TV in some guy’s living room. Some older guy. A shiver ran through her, and she glanced at Gareth again. He finally settled for a movie channel and sat back, attentively watching the screen. After a moment he popped open a can that had been sitting on the stand next to him. He took a sip of beer and slouched his head back with a sigh.

  She couldn’t take her eyes off him, and the slippery couch kept dipping to one side, slowly forcing her to slide closer and closer toward him. Her curled-up feet finally touched his leg.

  The movie continued, some action flick with yelling and explosions in every scene. She slowly relaxed, allowing herself to press more and more against him, turning her attention back to the movie. The tension in her stomach finally started to fade.

  Then his arm slipped around her shoulders, and he pulled her close. Now she was lying at his side, tucked neatly into the crook of his arm. She was surprised by the sudden position change, the sudden envelope of warmth around her. He held her like that, still watching the TV, and she sighed. He smelled so good!

  His hand started gently kneading the muscles of her arm. “You’re tense,” he murmured. “Relax.”

  “Easier said than done,” she muttered, not really expecting him to hear her.

  “I’ll make it easy,” his voice was low.

  Maddy’s breath caught, but already he was moving. He turned her gently so her back was facing him, not the exact position she had imagined, and his hands went to her shoulders where most of her tension had built up. Then he started rubbing them, applying just enough pressure to soothe the muscles, but not enough to hurt. He hit the crook between her shoulder and neck and she sighed again, this time in pleasure, feeling her muscles melt.

  They stayed like that for a long couple of minutes, his hands flowing over her shoulders and then her upper arms, her neck, then down her spine and to her upper back. He worked carefully and smoothly, his hands traveling lower and lower. She felt him lean over, his back pressing against hers for a moment, the brush of lips against the back of her neck. A satisfying tingle ran down her spine and settled between her legs. He was keeping her in an aroused state, so hot she thought she might burn up.

  She closed her eyes dreamily as he kneaded out another knot, this one in her lower back. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her words slow.

  “Doing what?” he responded quietly, though only after the briefest pause.

  “I don’t know, all of this… helping me, saving me… taking care of me.” The last part was barely a whisper, she said it so softly. It made her blush with embarrassment, but he had taken care of her – he had wrapped her bandage twice now, taken her to school, and then paid for their dinner. Why?

  She could feel him shrug behind her, and his silence lasted a little too long for her liking. His hands moved to the bottom of her shirt and she felt his fingers brush against the bare skin there, slipping beneath the shirt and trailing across her lower back. They left paths of fire across her skin, and she had to stifle a groan.

  “Let’s say, for a moment, that I’m a werewolf,” he murmured, his breath moving the hair near her ear. She shivered at the sensation, his words barely audible. It was so intimate it made her heart pound. “Separated from my pack, freshly moved to Black River, and I’m spending a night running through the forest.” His hands were trailing higher, up to her shoulder blades, warm and steady. She could feel the callouses and cuts on his fingers, probably caused by his job.

  “I’m running through the trees, and suddenly I smell something – a human. But not just any human: a young child, all alone. I take her back home, but it seems that half the time I’m on that mountain, she’s out there too. I can’t help but wonder why.” He paused again, his hands still trailing across her back, and she sighed slowly. She could feel his fingers pull against the skin, hitting the ridges of the scars that her stepfather had left on her, most of them by his belt. It felt so good to be touched, to feel his thumb running over the thin white lines, the rough patches where her skin still held the raised, white marks.

  His hands grew still.

  She frowned, wondering why he had stopped. She was about to turn her head to look at him when suddenly he grabbed the edge of her shirt and yanked it up, exposing the length of her back. She yelped in surprise, ready to spring from the couch.

  But he held her still with one hand on her shoulder, holding up the shirt, as the other one traced over the skin of her back. His finger ran down a particularly thick line that crossed her back diagonally. She remembered that one especially; she hadn't been able to stand up immediately after, and had laid on the floor for close to an hour. It had taken more than a month to heal
.

  “Shit,” he said softly.

  Suddenly Maddy’s good mood dissipated. Poof. Gone. He was staring at her scars, marks that she had never shown anyone before, and that he sure as hell had never seen. Abruptly he was pushing her forward, laying her down on her stomach. She couldn't refuse. She was stretched along the couch and he hovered behind her, his large hand stretched across her back. It traveled up the skin, feeling every bump and ridge. His other hand rested on her hip, firmly holding her in place.

  “What are these?” he asked quietly, though she felt like he already knew the answer.

  She lied anyway. “It was an accident,” she said, stumbling on the words. She had never told anyone before about her stepfather’s “treatments,” and the words were just as hard to say now as they had been before. She couldn’t expose her past; not like this, not when she felt so vulnerable. It was humiliating. Each scar was a sign of her own weakness, her own defeat.

  “Don’t bullshit me,” he growled, his voice low and feral, dangerous. He grabbed her and swung her over, laying her on her back, maneuvering her easily with his large hands. Then he pulled her towards him and yanked the front of her shirt up. Maddy let out a cry of outrage and tried to pull her shirt down, but he was forcing it up to her neck, ripping the cloth, his eyes inspecting her stomach and traveling over her skin. She was relieved that she still wore her bra.

  His fingers moved over her, this time pausing at every knick and imperfection. There weren't as many scars on her stomach, but several crescent marks and bumps where he had pinched her, where his fingernails had bit into her skin. They were small and unnoticeable in comparison to the marks on her back — but still present.

  She glanced at Gareth and the expression on his face terrified her.

  His eyes met hers, and she couldn’t breathe.

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about,” he snarled, his fangs bared, “or do I have to strip the rest of you?”

  The words left her weak and shaking. She trembled where his hands were splayed against her stomach, his thumb feathering over her skin. Her nipples were hard, pushing against the soft fabric of her bra, and she knew the little peaks were clearly visible. His eyes darted down to them; he didn't try to hide the look. The tension in the room was enough to make her sweat.

  She turned her head away and closed her eyes. “It’s nothing,” she muttered.

  He began to growl. “Maddy….” His hands traveled low to the waistband of her pants, and he deftly flicked open the top button.

  “I don’t want to talk about it!” she said desperately, and twisted, trying to wiggle away. He let her slide out from under him for a few inches, then he grabbed her firmly by the waist and pulled her right back, holding her between his thighs, forcing her closer. Her legs were tangled with his, and their crotches close to touching – he leaned over her, looking down at her body.

  “Don’t test me, babe,” he said, his voice dark. “Tell me, or I’ll do something you may regret later.” And he leaned his head down, gently licking the indent of her hips, right along the edge of her pants. She let out a small gasp of surprise and then whimpered, unable to control the sound.

  She closed her eyes. ‘Something she might regret later’ he had said. Somehow, she couldn’t imagine regretting it, but at the same time his wildness scared her.

  He worked at the zipper of her pants, pulling them slowly down. She swallowed. Turned her face away towards the couch, trying to curl her body up and away from him. His hands held her gently but firmly.

  “It’s nothing… just my stepfather,” she said quietly, talking into her hands rather than to his face. She couldn’t bear to look. “He… he’s not… he hits me sometimes, okay? When he gets drunk and stuff. He’ll get angry, and you know, I’m the only one around.” Suddenly she felt tears spring to her eyes, and she let out a choked laugh, a small and pathetic sound. Gareth’s hands had stopped moving. She could tell he was stiff and tense.

  Then she felt his hand again on her back, running over those scars, leaving chills across her skin. “And these?” he asked slowly.

  “His belt,” she whispered. She didn’t know why, she couldn’t control it, but a tear slid down her cheek. Thank god she was hiding her face. She hadn’t cried over the beatings for a long time, several years at least.

  “And this is the same man who sold you out to pay for his gambling debts?” he said quietly. Maddy nodded, her throat too choked to speak.

  “I’ll kill him.”

  She looked up in surprise. His green eyes were ablaze with an unknown emotion, one that struck terror in her heart; it was a wild, feral look that she was sure didn’t belong on a human. His teeth were bared in a way that made her heart pound, and his rage was almost palpable.

  “What?” she whispered, her mouth dry.

  “I’ll fucking kill the bastard that did this to you,” he growled, so low that she could barely understand his words.

  The tone of his voice terrified her, but his threat didn’t. She didn’t want her stepfather dead, but at the same time, she probably wouldn’t be too bent out of shape if it happened. “Why?” she asked hesitantly. “Why would you help me? I’m nobody.”

  The growl he gave her was fierce, and then he moved, pulling himself up the couch until he was completely on top of her, covering her body with his; she felt consumed, sheltered. His arms landed on either side of her, locking her in, and then his hips were pressed against hers. A hard bulge pushed into her thigh. He was hard, a full erection. Her eyes widened and her breathing grew shallow.

  “Nobody touches you,” he said quietly, and she got the distinct impression that this was not the usual Gareth. There was something dangerous about him, something untamed and uncontrollable. The wolf inside? She couldn’t be sure, but the feeling of power coming off of him was intoxicating. She reached up and touched his bulging arms — looked into his eyes.

  “Why?” she whispered again.

  “Because you’re mine.” And then he kissed her again, his mouth harsh and controlling. She felt a stab of pain as his sharp canines grazed her lips, and he moaned, licking the blood them She took him in, kissing him back, heart pounding like a drum. She could taste his mouth, his saliva, a heady rush of fire moving through her body straight to her dripping cunt. Everywhere he touched began to burn with pleasure.

  And he was touching her – her arms, her neck, her sides and stomach. One hand went behind her back and suddenly her bra was loose, sliding off her body and flung somewhere out of sight. He didn’t hesitate – his rough tongue lapped over her nipples, teasing them into painful peaks, drawing upon them, causing shivers of pleasure to wrack her body. She panted and groaned, and he chuckled low in his throat, a sound that sent chills across her skin.

  “Oh my god,” she groaned as another wave of pleasure took her. He moved to lift her up slightly, adjusting her so she was sitting in his lap, his one hand holding her face as he kissed her, the other working at her pants. Then they were gone, and her panties were the only thing between him and her naked body. They were pink and striped, already soaking wet. She looked up dazedly at his face and saw the hunger there, saw him looking at her body in an intimate way that no man ever had before. She pushed her face against his shoulder, suddenly shy, wanting only to hide. She had always been self-conscious, but his gaze saw too much.

  Then his fingers pushed under the band of her panties, and she gasped, one of them sliding down her wet little slit. It played around her lips and then hovered over her clit, rubbing the swollen little nub gently, just enough to make her gasp and cry out, her body going tense.

  “Shh baby,” he murmured, kissing her lips as she moaned. “You like that?” and he did it again, trailing his finger over her, making her shiver with pleasure. Her hole was hot and aching. She wanted to beg him to touch her, to do things to her that she had only ever heard talked about. She didn’t know what to expect, didn’t know if it would be painful or good or what, but she trusted him. Somehow, it was the
natural thing to do.

  Then his finger found her hole, and he slipped it forward and upward, her body penetrated for the first time. She tensed, uncertain; she was tight, so tight his finger could barely fit, it was bordering on pain. Then he kissed her again, moving his finger gently inside, stroking against nerves she hadn’t thought existed. She sighed against him and began to relax.

  “That’s right baby, open for me,” he said quietly, and she moaned again. His head dropped down to take one small hard nipple into his mouth. He sucked on it gently, making her groan, distracting her. He withdrew his first finger and then inserted two, slowly working his way into her, pushing her open. It was painful, invasive, but oh-so-good... Maddy hesitantly moved her hips against him, reacting naturally.

  He responded by sliding his hand back and forth, pushing his fingers deep into her. His thumb flicked over her clit, rubbing in slow circles. She began to pant, crying out with each thrust of his hand. His fingers were long and he curled them upward, reaching an unknown place inside of her, and she almost screamed.

  Then she felt it, a wave of tension growing in her body, making her weak and helpless. She threw her arms around his shoulder and pressed her face into him, sighing and groaning, writhing against his hand. She couldn't control herself, couldn't stop moving. Her teeth bit into his shoulder. His arms tightened on her, lifting her so he could rub her at a steeper angle, his tongue sliding down her neck.

  “Gareth,” she moaned quietly. “Oh!”

  “Almost there,” he whispered to her. “Come on, relax baby, give it to me….”

  He rubbed her clit for another moment, and then she screamed, shocked by a wave of pleasure that crashed over her body. Her muscles clenched around his hand and she felt herself gush, her hips convulsing, her hole squeezing down on him. She panted, crying out, digging her teeth and nails into his shoulder.