The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

She looks him over for a moment, pondering. Her arm raises and she points at the outline on the wall, her voice so quiet that she knows Bryan can barely hear her, “Last night, that man there snuck into your house when you were out with your friends.”

“What? You’re being stupid,” he rolls his eyes at her, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“It was very dark,” she continues, ignoring him while looking deep into his eyes, “and he went to your bedroom. It was so dark in fact, that your wife did not know it wasn’t you,” she moves closer, her voice dropping lower, “he grabbed a hold and took what he wanted from her and she gave it willingly…” Mora reaches up and turns Bryan’s face towards the outline, “And now there he stands, laughing at you. But it doesn’t matter, because you are strong and angry and he is weak like glass. I want you to take this dagger and throw it into his heart.”

After offering up one more dagger she backs off carefully. Not knowing what she said to him, the crowd waits with anticipation.

Bryan inhales deeply; he looks furious. His arm rises above his head, “Like a stone through glass,” he mumbles. He swings hard and lets go of the knife. With a loud thunk, it sticks into the wall. The tavern hoots and hollers; he looks at Mora.

She smiles and pats him on the shoulder, whispering quietly, “Just remember, every Alumenian is a man who would sneak into your house when you are gone.”

James, Lucas and Daniel rush on to the stage. They drag over several more dummies after removing the weapons racks from the wall. Lining each dummy against wood, it only takes them a few minutes to get situated. Townspeople pile on stage, all greeting Sari as she hands out the daggers to them. The rest of the night, until the wee hours of dawn, Mora helps Rick teach everyone, sharing the helpful secrets that Laren has taught her over the years.

Slowly the crowd thins out as people grow tired and sore from the training. Finally, when the last person leaves, Todd can barely stand up straight. Rick tells him to go; Daniel, James, and Mora clear out all of the beer mugs while Rick and Sari put the weapons away.

As Rick walks their friends to the door, Mora slumps over in a chair, exhausted. She hears the locks snap shut, her eyes beginning to drift close until she feels his lips on hers, “Not yet, Namora,” he coaxes.

Gathering her up into his arms like he did the first night she spent with him, he carries her up the stairs. Feeling so at ease with her head rested on his chest, she has to try hard to keep herself awake, wanting to spend every moment with him that she can before the war brings the unknown. She has just drifted off only to wake up again when he sets her on the couch.

The tub, with steaming water, is hard to see by the dying embers in the fireplace; the screen is nowhere to be seen. She is now wide awake with anticipation. Rick kneels before her, unlacing her boots; he rubs her bare feet, leaving no part of them untouched. She reaches out to him, running her fingers through his hair when he unlaces her vest, untangling it from her body. Though she is nervous when he pulls off her ruffled shirt, she doesn’t shy away. He slips his hands beneath her undershirt, sliding them all the way up her sides until he pulls it over her head. Her skin prickles from the cold air touching her uncovered body.

Rick wraps his hand around her waist, lifting her up until she stands above him; his lips press against her stomach while his fingers drag her pants down to the floor. Letting his hands and lips wander her whole body, he savors each inch of her bare skin. Now completely exposed to him, she feels vulnerable but in a different way-in a voluntary way, as if she is completely offering herself to him to do with as he pleases.

Rick lifts her up, strong arms wrapping around her as he carries her to the tub and places her in it; the warm water envelopes her body like a blanket. He locks onto her gaze when he sits down to remove his own boots; he pulls his shirt off before he stands. Her eyes look over the familiar lines of his chest, wandering down the outline of his stomach muscles before he strips his pants off. She is glad the room is dark because her cheeks burn bright red when he stands exposed in front of her. Fully nude, he walks to the tub and slides in behind her. He leans in to kiss her neck from behind, letting his hands lather up a bar of soap before they meander over her chest and down her stomach. Wet and soapy, both of them explore each other’s bodies while washing off.

Finally pushed to the limits of desire, Mora gets out first. She dries off in front of him, no longer embarrassed about his eyes seeing her exposed body. Letting the towel fall to the ground, she leans over the edge of the tub, giving him a soft kiss. Slowly, she walks over to the bed knowing that his eyes are following her naked figure. From there, she is barely able to see him climb out of the tub and quickly wipe dry in the almost extinguished firelight.

He follows her without hesitation, finding her lips with his in the darkness without even getting into the bed. His hands wander over her chest and up her arms; he grips her tight around the wrists and pins her down. He easily swings his body on to the bed and slides his legs between hers. When he presses his body down she presses hers up, each trying to get closer. He lets go of her wrists, sliding his fingers down her arms before he cradles her face in his hands. Pulling away from her mouth, his voice is thick like honey, “I love you, Namora.”

“I love you, Varickan,” she replies breathlessly before pulling him back down to her.

They feed the flames of each other’s fires: hands tracing paths, stealing each other’s breath, tasting each other’s skin. Slick with the sweat of restraint with their bodies entwined, no longer able to stave off their desires, Rick rubs himself against her wetness, tensing as he prepares to confirm their love for one another by claiming her as his own. He starts to push into her maidenhood, his skin burning with desire, his body trembling with need when he is halted by a quick a knock at the door.

Both of them freeze, listening to the darkness, unsure if they heard anything. When they are about to ignore it, three taps come again.

“Rick?” The urgent voice is Todd’s.

The longing in Mora’s touch tells him to ignore it. Though he wants to, Rick reluctantly untangles his body from hers. He slips on a pair of pants before his soft footsteps carry him across the room. The door creaks when Rick pulls it open to greet Todd. Unable to hear what they are saying, she pulls the blanket over herself while she sits up. Mora gets a sinking feeling in her stomach that something is wrong. In the darkness she can hear the door click shut and Rick’s footsteps coming towards her; the swiftness of them confirm her suspicions.

She sees his outline at the bed next to her; he hands her something. When she takes it, she discovers it is a pair of pants and a shirt.

His voice calm despite the message he delivers, “Something is wrong with your father; Captain Franklin is downstairs.”

She has to untangle herself from the covers. Getting dressed hastily, her hands start to shake so bad she doesn’t bother trying to put on a vest over her loose ruffled shirt. Though the floor is cold against her bare feet, she leaves her shoes behind and rushes out of the room, Rick close behind her. Mora bounds down the stairs two at a time.

The tavern is almost entirely dark with one lone torch by the door. It provides enough light for her to see Franklin. His body is tense, much like the day she was captured.

“Princess Namora,” he drops to a knee stiffly.

“What’s wrong with the King?” She says breathlessly when she reaches him.

He stands up, grabbing her shoulders like a friend, “King Irron sent an assassin… your father killed him but…”

“But what!” she shouts, voice cracking.

“… but he’s wounded bad. Advisor Laren doesn’t think he will last any more than a few hours.”

She covers her mouth with her hand as the tears well up in her eyes. She can’t breathe, she can’t think. Her body goes numb and she feels like she will pass out. Franklin keeps his grip on her shoulders, guiding her into a chair. As the tears roll down her cheeks, she begins to tremble uncontrollably.

Letting go, Franklin speaks softly to her, “You need to go to him, Princess; he asked me to get you.”NôvelDrama.Org holds text © rights.

She can barely lift her arm to point at her collar, “I can’t.” Burying her face in her hands, her whole body shakes with her sobs.

Rick kneels down in front of her. Gently, he pulls her hands away from her face, letting them fall into her lap. His fingers wipe the tears away from her cheeks before holding them in his hands. “Breathe, Mora,” he coos. His hands slide behind her neck, pulling her to him while he leans in to kiss her tenderly.

She hears the tiniest of clicks. When Rick pulls away from her, he holds the collar in his hands with the key still in the lock.

Mora looks at the collar with disbelief. Tears still flow down her face. She feels panic well up inside of her, afraid of losing her father and losing Rick at the same time. Just when she started to feel happy, her world begins to fall apart again.

“But the Queen said-” she is silenced by Rick’s fingers on her lips.

He smiles reassuringly at her, “I will deal with the Queen. You must go to your father.”

She wraps her arms around him, holding him tight. Before she has a chance to think about it anymore, she lets go and sprints up the stairs. Her quivering hands barely allow her to lace up her boots. Her mind racing, she forgets the vest and flies out of the room. When she runs back downstairs, Rick waits for her with a cloak.

Though his face is blank she knows that he shares her worries. He swings the cloak over her shoulders, tying it securely. Mora can’t find words to thank him. Looking into his eyes only makes her fears deepen so she throws her arms around his shoulders, holding him tight, “I want you,” is all she can whisper.