Chapter Two

The sky was a bright and vivid blue. Twin suns hung from an almost cloudless sky and shone down on fields of green and amber. The trees that were just changing from hues of green and gold to brilliant scarlet and the dark browns of the next season. A crisp fresh wind was blowing, stirring the leaves and reminding those who were of a mind to rest and enjoy the day that the seasons were changing and ice and snow would soon cover the ground.

Birds twittered and sang, swooping from the higher branches where their nests, now empty, rested safe and secure from most of the predators who would otherwise prey upon their young. They fed off the tiny insects, gathering strength for their long flight to the warmer climes. One in particular, his feathers sapphire blue and dazzling in the sun, darted over and around the entwined couple laying in the clearing, obviously enthralled with the golden curls that lay haphazardly about the beautiful girl’s head.

He landed in the grass with a tiny bounce and a resounding peep, skipping closer to the fine silken tresses, his little head cocking back and forth jerkily as he studied the enticing strands. With one last brave hop, he reached down and picked up a few stray pieces of the glistening hair in his tiny beak and pulled, his wings beating against the air as he tried to take off with it.

“Oh!”

Danielle awoke sharply, the pain of her fine hair being tugged tumbling her from her warm, soft dreams. She raised her hand to the side of her head and watched in disbelief as a tiny blue bird flew away to madly scold her from the safety of a high branch, in its busy mouth a few of her long locks. She rubbed her head and settled back against the warmth next to her, her mind not quite aware enough to realize where she was. She snuggled into the cosiness of her bed, her arm naturally falling around the warmth of her pillow. With her eyes closed, she inhaled deeply, breathing in the scent of sweet grasses, fresh air and musky male.

She stretched then snuggled deeper into the sweet smelling grass, stroking her hand down the long warmth of the pillow. Her fingers bumped over bandaged wrapped ribs, across a firmly muscled stomach and came to rest on the soft skin just above a wiry patch of hair. She laid there for a moment, her mind befuddled still by sleep.

A low moan reached her ears, and her pillow moved under her cheek.

Danielle jumped to her feet, staring in horror at the long, very naked body of the man she had been snuggled up against. Her face colored hotly as her eyes travelled the length of his body, noting every muscled inch before coming to rest upon the turgid flesh that grew longer and harder between his finely haired thighs as she watched. Her hands flew to her now burning cheeks, and she quickly turned her head away, staring at the shadowed forest.

His chuckle filled the air, and she heard him stir. She took an involuntary look over her shoulder and met green eyes that danced with amusement. It was the noble who had kept her from her forest for days before she had finally braved it once more last night. He leaned on his elbows completely unconcerned that his body was totally exposed to her shy eyes.

“Sir!” She tried desperately to sound shocked and outraged, but her voice came out almost whisper soft.

“Lukas,” he replied, levering himself up just a little higher and looking down at the bandage around his waist.

“W-what?”

“My name is Lukas, little one. Is this your work?” He indicated the bandage then looked back at her. A grin crossed his face, the first honest amusement that he had felt in…well, since that day so many years before. His fingers pulled at the knots she had fashioned so cleverly the prior evening, pulling aside the stained rags until he could see his skin.

It was smooth and unblemished, without even a scar to show where he had been injured. It was his way, one body injured did not transfer to the other. He healed with amazing speed, his blood and organs replenishing themselves before death could take him.

It was what he had become.

“Nicely done. You have skill with a bandage.”

“S-sir Lukas…” Danielle began, licking her lush lips nervously.

“I am no knightly figure. Lukas will do.” He picked at a piece of grass that clung to his skin. “And your name, girl?” he asked with feigned nonchalance. “Will you finally gift me with its knowledge?”

“I’m confused, sir. Where’s the wolf?” she asked, once more not answering his query. She turned partially towards him, showing her slender profile, the tilted tip of her nose and a tiny spattering of freckles dotting her translucent skin. Her little chin set determinedly as she gazed everywhere but directly at him. Her eyes were incredibly blue in the light of the new morn.

It was good that she looked away. Her stunning profile was silhouetted by the shimmering gold of her hair. The length of her slender neck and her slim shoulders peeped from between the torn fabric of her tunic. He saw the tips of her full breasts, the nipples tight in the fresh breezes. He hardened more, amazingly, his rampant flesh seeming with a mind of its own.

She had cuddled up to him, seeking his warmth in the chill of the night. Her body had pressed against his, her hands caressing his skin in her sleep, waking him with a jolt of desire he had been hard pressed not to act upon. She’d lain beside a wolf, with a trust his kind seldom felt. But with her soft sensuality and beguiling frame she’d woken the beast in him.

“Wolf?” His mind had wandered from her question, his eyes never leaving her soft profile. He didn’t miss the decided nervousness that had her small tongue running along the lush swelling of her bottom lip, leaving a trail of slick wetness behind that was distracting. A soft moan escaped him at the thought of what that tongue and those beautifully curved lips could do. It would only take the right bait and a thoughtful plan to trap this tempting vixen.

“Sir, I was attacked last night, and a wolf charged to my rescue. It was injured. I couldn’t leave it alone and defenceless so I stayed by its side.” She turned and glanced at him as he lay supine in the soft grass, her face blushing and becoming warm as she saw once more the thick fullness of his shaft springing so randily from its bed of soft hair. That same soft hair her hand had stroked. She could still feel its texture against her fingertips. Her eyes raised and met his knowing gaze, laughter and heat dancing in his jade eyes.

She whirled and half-ran to the edge of the clearing, her mind bent upon leaving him. But at his sudden moan of pain, she paused. The prevalent part of her nature was good and kind and couldn’t leave any creature in pain. She turned and walked back to him, hesitating, her steps slowed even as her eyes scanned for signs of a wound.

“Where do you hurt, sir?” She dropped to her knees beside him, her hands stroking over the bandages he had draped back over his uninjured ribs. She went to pull them away and was startled to feel his hands wrapping firmly over her wrists. Her eyes flew to his in confusion, seeing the almost predatory gleam in the emerald depths.

His eyes kept her gaze, noting the startled-deer look of her own. She didn’t pull away, her body quivering in the sudden stillness. He tugged on her wrists gently, drawing her closer to him and pulling her mouth nearer to his own. He felt the panting heat of her breath against his mouth and scented the sweet aroma of woman rising from her flesh. She was aroused. He could sense it in her and smell it upon her body. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Why deny such flagrant attraction?

Her breasts flattened against his chest, the taut nipples rubbing provocatively against his skin. She shifted, stroking those full, pale globes against him, and the pleasure shooting through her from that stimulation caused a tiny moan to slip from her. His lips thinned, his eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared as he inhaled of her scent. For an instant there was something so completely primal about him, almost beast-like in the need that sprang to life in those strange eyes that she almost fought to get away.

This was forbidden, completely and provocatively so. To touch like this, to be next to a man not your mate, was punishable by banishment from the village. And to lay with a noble, one so far above her in class, could mean death. Her death. But this knowledge didn’t cool the need he fanned so effortlessly. She wanted to know the feeling of his lips against her own. Just that thought sent blood rushing in hot flames through her, sending a shiver to ache in the pit of her being.

He moved suddenly, flipping her to her back, his body resting against hers, holding her still without hurting her. He held her wrists above her head, moving to secure them easily in one of his large hands. The other stroked the skin of her wrist then followed the curve of her arm down, over her elbow to her shoulder. He found her chin with his fingers, raising it so he could look into her eyes, his mesmerising her with a flame of passion that stole her breath.

“You are beautiful, little one. Your skin is as soft as the breast feathers of a bird, your scent that of a sensual flower, erotic and enticing to any man.” His lips brushed the side of her mouth, his hair falling around them, curtaining them with an ebony cape. He teased her with tiny kisses, by passing her lips until her own mouth followed his, demanding its due of pleasure.

He tasted softly, feeling her sweetness, her shyness, holding them to himself like a priceless gift. She was a wonder in her innocence, a novelty for someone as bitter and caustic as he was. His free hand stroked her smooth cheek, pressed into the golden sunshine of her curls to hold her head still for his touch. Her hair welcomed his hand, caressing the hardness of his palm with clinging tendrils of silk and curling around his wrist as if to hold him to her.

He touched his tongue to the sensitive seam of her mouth, teasing her with little licks and sly touches. His mouth was soft upon her own and tempted her to taste him with a tender sigh. She was gentle fire under him Waves of innocent desire called to his wildness, called to the wolf even as he kept his kisses slow and sweet. He would deny his true nature and woo and cajole this rare beauty to respond to him in this form. He nearly howled his pleasure when she parted her soft lips, letting his tongue lap at the smoothness of her teeth then beyond into the dark heat of her mouth. Her tongue was passive at first, as shy as her eyes had been. Soon it responded to his tasting, slowly sliding against his own to play and tangle.

His free hand roved from her silken tresses to slip down the front of her tunic and part the ripped fabric further until he could easily reach her satiny skin. He stroked her smoothness, his fingers gliding languidly from her throat to her waist in sure caresses, barely brushing the warm globes of her breasts as he passed between. She shivered under him, and her body moved slowly as he petted her.

He coaxed her tongue into his mouth, sucking on it slowly. Her body arched as the startling contact caused illicit ripples of joy. He captured her moan in his mouth, reveling in the sounds she made. On the next slow stroke, he finally touched her breast, caressing the soft skin slowly before fully encompassing it in the heat of his calloused palm. He squeezed gently, then pulled his mouth from hers to look down at the flesh in his hand.

Lukas could see the marks from the man that had manhandled her so badly, the finger shaped bruises that showed almost black against her fair white skin. Those marks drew something from him, a rage so intense he wanted to find those men and kill them slowly as he had been unable to do the night before. Rage simmered inside of him, but gentleness was in his gaze and in his touch. He slowly teased her with feather-like strokes of his fingers until she arched into his hand, begging him to capture her fullness. Her nipple was a hard nubbin of desire, rosy pink and delicate-looking as it seemed to plead for his touch, his kiss.

“P-please, Lukas. I want…”

“Shh, I know what you want, little one.” His fingers brushed the hard tip. He smiled grimly when he heard her sharp intake of breath, and he released her wrists, knowing she wouldn’t fight him now. He licked lips suddenly gone dry in passion and bent his head. His hair caressed her bare shoulders and stomach as he nuzzled her smooth flesh. She arched again, her fingers tangling in the fullness of his hair, her body aflame with strange and wonderful delights.

He kissed the tip first, lapped it gently with his tongue. Her body stilled and grew taut under his. There was an expectant hush in her manner, a waiting for something that she didn’t understand. But she needed it. She desperately craved whatever was coming next. Her breath caught in her throat, her fingers twining in soft locks of his hair that curiously reminded her of the wolf fur she had wrapped herself around the night before.

His mouth opened upon her skin, his lips suckling slowly at her rosy nipples, first one then the other. She tasted like honey in his mouth—flame-warmed honey that befuddled his senses more than any liquor he’d ever had. Her mewls of joy stroked the burning need inside of him, driving him to please her further, to make her feel the madness that was taking him over. She moved against him stroking his naked body with the roughness of her tunic, her legs parting, one knee raising to rest against his hips as her body cried out for more.

Raising his head, he took one of her hands, pressing a slow kiss into her palm. His eyes found hers, seeing them glazed with need, alight with fire. He could have taken her right then, thrust himself into her, and she would have let him, nay, welcomed him into her body. It was what he was used to, what he’d always done—taking pleasure, even while returning it, with no wish or desire for anything but what both he and the wench knew was a momentary lustful bout that meant nothing more.

This girl was innocence. She was goodness. She was desire and fire and love. Her arousal, the scent coming from her skin and woman flesh was mixed with an aroma of purity that tangled in his mind. He’d never known someone of her class as beautiful, as unashamedly kind and caring as she was. Nor one who responded so openly, so perfectly as she had to his touch. He should leave her pure despite the lust she so effortlessly inspired in him.

He slid to her side, resting her hand against his chest, closing his eyes for a second as desire and pleasure tangled in his belly at her touch. His leg came up and over hers, pulling them down to rest under the weight of his thigh. He looked into her eyes, noting confusion in her passion-darkened gaze. Her perfect features were flushed, her lips open as she struggled to control her breathing.

His eyes trailed to her throat, seeing her pulse flutter like fast-beating bird’s wings under her skin. Her shoulders were rosy, her breasts heaving from his caresses. He touched her, feather-light, softly stroking over her nipples, smiling darkly as she arched to his hand, her body craving his touch almost as much as he wanted to give it to her.

The skin of her stomach was smooth and pale, the muscles toned and taut. He found the tie to the waist of her skirt and deftly undid the knots, pulling it loose. His hand flattened against her skin and slipped under the loosened fabric not stopping until it rested on the top of her sleekly furred mound.

She struggled for a moment. Her hand raised to his shoulder, and her fingers tightened, nails digging in at the unfamiliar feeling of someone touching her intimately. Her body quaked at the strange sensations, her thighs straining against his leg.

His free hand raised to her face, pushing hair from her forehead, bringing his gaze to hers as she grasped the wrist buried in her clothing. He watched her eyes as he let his fingers part the smooth curls and slip between her swollen nether lips to stroke the heat of her damp slit. She gasped as little tremors exploded in her stomach. Her thighs trembling as unfamiliar sensations spread through her body from beneath his talented touch. Her hand clenched harder at his wrist for an instant before loosening, allowing him full access to her virginal heat with a low moan.

Tongues of fire lapped over her, she couldn’t catch her breath. Something tight seemed to settle in the pit of her stomach, a strange ache that refused to be denied. Her hips moved, the muscles in her smooth stomach undulating wantonly. She craved something only he could give her. Her whimpers filled the air around them, sounding like the sweetest siren song.

He watched her as her eyes half-closed in concentration, her lush lips parted, her nostrils flaring. The hand he had rested on his chest now stroked his skin, slowly coming closer to his own ache and driving him wild with every motion. He took her hand in his own and guided it to his thick shaft, quivering as her soft fingers wrapped around his base then began a shy, sensual exploration that threatened to bring the wolf’s lust to boil.

His finger slipped inside her virginal lips, feeling the muscles in her sheath contract and pull at him as if begging for him to give her more. He pushed a little further, the tightness of her giving way to his invading finger, his thumb finding and teasing the taut button of her clitoris. She moaned and pushed against him, her little hand stroking his cock with an innocent ineptness that was sensuality itself. He felt the thin membrane that screamed her innocence, and he desperately wanted to take it, to take her and make her only his.

It was tempting, tantalizing almost beyond what he was capable of resisting.

Her hips thrust urgently against his hand, her thighs squeezing tightly around it, holding him to her in frantic need. She felt the tip of his cock. The tiny slit filled with the moisture of his passionate nature. Her thumb gathered that moisture, rubbing gently across the slit, over and over, until her fingers were slippery with it.

Her hand moved from his wrist, wrapping deeply into the thickness of his hair, pulling his face to hers to find his mouth. It was her first aggression in the game between men and women, and she followed it by thrusting her tongue into his mouth, finding and dueling with his own, wrenching a groan from him that she captured in her mouth. She felt wild and wicked, completely beyond herself in his arms. She wanted it to go on, the pleasure and joy, the aching need that had her behaving in a wanton manner completely against the teachings of her people. She wanted more of his touch, more of him there between her fingers. She wanted to kiss him as he had her, to touch him in the ways he had her. She wanted…more.

She growled at him.

The sound was low and rough, a sound of need and desire that sent flickers of ecstasy down his spine. She was teaching him, using the things he had taught her and improvising on her own in an attempt to find her own pleasure. She moved beneath him, her hand slipping off his cock and between his legs, finding and fondling the heavy sack that contained his essence. She squeezed gently, and her nails tickled in a manner that had him squirming in pleasure.

He moaned into her mouth as her hand left his body. He felt bereft without her tender touch until he felt the give of the material above his hand. She squirmed under him, her skirt falling away as the wrap came undone.

Then he was between her thighs, a slave to her innocent passion and tempting wiles. He couldn’t resist something they both seemed to want—no, need—so badly.

She felt him there, at her entrance, his cock feeling almost impossibly large against her wet lips. Her body squirmed, her thighs parting further to urge him forward.

Her eyes flew open when he suddenly stopped. Stopped kissing her, stopped moving against her, stopped caressing her. He gazed down at her with an expression of uncanny lust tempered with something softer in his compelling eyes. Her hands slid down his chest, her nails brushing against his nipples then over his stomach and down further. One slim-fingered hand reached between her legs to grasp his stiff shaft, trying to guide it into the waiting softness of her body.

“Are you sure?” His voice sounded strange even to him, a husky note, a rasp of a growl that matched the one she had given to him earlier.

She nodded, words deserting her in passion as she stared down at her hand that held his hardness. Her hips raised, her hand moved, stroking brazenly as she tried once more to engulf his hardness.

He moaned and leaned down, trapping her arm between their bodies so she couldn’t move. Even so, her fingers continued to caress him. They danced over his cock and made it twitch and jerk against her body.

“Tell me your name?” he growled, letting his tongue play and lap at her earlobe.

Her answer was a growl of her own, husky and wild, almost feral sounding as she dug her nails into the skin of his back.

He pushed forward, letting just the head of his cock slip inside of her, feeling her tight sheath give grudgingly for him. She moaned and tried to thrust her hips upward, but he easily contained her clumsy movements, using the weight of his body to hold her captive under him.

“Your name?” he growled again, this time biting down upon her earlobe in a quick nip.

“Danielle,” she moaned in frustration, pushing against him.

He gave of himself them, slowly thrusting until he could feel that thin barrier. He raised up on his elbows, looking into her eyes.

“Look at me, Danielle.”

He captured her with his gaze even, as he pulled away from her. With one quick thrust, he was through, buried deeply inside of her. Her muscles clench down at the odd feeling of his invasion in her body. She was so tight, so incredibly wet and hot around him. Her eyes were dilated, the huge pupils almost blocking the midnight-blue irises as she stared up at him. Her mouth was open, her lips swollen and red from his kisses. He held himself still, not wanting to hurt her further, letting her get used to the feel of him inside of her.

When she began to move, he groaned, looking down at the body beneath him. She was an unbelievable sight, her breasts firm and nipples tight in the morning sunlight. Her body seemed like pale cream, soft and tender, her stomach moving against his as she clumsily sought her pleasure and his own.

Her head was thrown back in the thick grass, her hair shining gold around her fair face. Her skin was flushed, her eyes dark and blind in her passion. She moved with purpose, driving him to thrust deep as her cries and moans sweetened the air around them. He kissed her, feeling her hands turn into claws on his back and dig in with tiny little half moons of pain as she came for the first time. Her muscles contracted, holding him in her, fisting around his shaft until he couldn’t hold back. He tried to pull from her, but her legs wrapped around his waist, pushing him just a little deeper.

The pleasure was amazing, the way he felt against her, inside of her, shocking and wild. Hot waves of joy flowed over her, starting from where they were joined. She groaned into his mouth, unknowingly digging into his back as ecstasy made her blind and deaf to all but what was happening to her body.

When it ebbed, but for tiny little waves that made her tremble, he was laying heavily over her, his head down against her ear, his breath stirring tiny little hairs to move and tickle her face. She felt him between her legs, the part of him that had caused her such pleasure still hard and buried deep while hot wetness seeped from around him.

Her mind flew. Thoughts of the pleasure she had felt, of how he had made her body come alive in his hands, warred with her conscience. She knew what she had done was unforgivable to her people. The things he had made her feel were wrong and only done by the loose woman or the widows who were without men to care for them. She had given him her innocence, the gift that she was supposed to give only to the mate her father promised her to. When it was found that her maidenhead no longer existed, she would be shamed and shunned by her people.

But she didn’t care.

He moved up on his elbows, taking some of his weight off of her. When he did, she wanted to cry out, to have him back against her again. He stroked the side of her face and pushed her hair off her cheek with a gentle touch that sent her senses soaring.

“Danielle.” His voice was still raspy. Before another sound could pass his lips, they both heard her name called in a frantic tone.

“Danielle!”

It was distant but growing closer.

“My father,” she gasped, pushing at him.

He let her slip away, watching her pull on her clothing and try to lace her tunic in a way that hid the rip.

“Come back to me tonight?”

“I…I don’t know.” She hesitated, wanting to do so but knowing what they had done was wrong. Even if it had felt right. It confused her, the push-pull feeling of her emotions, desire warring against morality.

“The wolf will be waiting for you, Danielle. He will be at the edge of your village.”

She looked up, hearing other voices besides her father’s. He had the village men searching the woods for her. “I have to go.”

He caught her hand, holding her still for just a moment before she could flee the clearing. “Please, Danielle. Come to me. Come when you hear my song.”

She nodded her fair head, smiling down at the picture he made, nude and languorous, laying in the grass at her feet. Then she felt one more soft kiss upon her palm, her hand being closed as if to save the touch as she turned to flee. She reached the edge of the clearing and turned into the path, almost screaming when she ran straight into the broad chest of her dark father.

He took her home, alternating between scolding and hugging her. He believed her story of being turned around in the shadows of the night and losing her way even though she knew every inch of that forest, every tree and bush. A kiss on his cheek, a smile that shone in his heart and she was forgiven.

Her mother glanced askance at Danielle’s ragged shift and torn tunic, staring at her in a way that told her she wasn’t believed when she said she had fallen into a thicket and ripped the material. But Danielle’s mother, too, trusted her daughter, and she cuddled and scolded her for the fright she had given.

Both of her parents forbade her to enter the forest again for a few nights, to calm their parental fears. She panicked, wondering if Lukas would wait, if he would still want her. She felt his lips upon her palm and the lingering memory of the things they had done together that morning.

Even now, as she stood in the open doorway at the back of her parents’ tiny hut, watching the second moon rise and shine through the dark forest across the river, she wondered if he waited for her.

A tear glistened on the tips of her lashes then fell silently to the floor, unnoticed, as she listened to the plaintive, mournful song of the wolf calling to her from the edge of the trees.