Bitten by the Alpha Wolf (7 page)

“Be in me now,” she told him.

He stood back from her so that he was in front of the window. The moon shone behind him, and in its shadow he freed himself from his clothes. Jenny gasped. He was beautiful and terrible, a god of a man with finely sculpted muscles, pale and hard as if he’d been sculpted from alabaster. The expression on his face was one of raw need as he stood over Jenny and gazed upon her nakedness.

And then he fell upon her like a wolf from the mountains of his homeland. It seemed to Jenny as if she were being devoured by lust, coarse and primeval. He licked and bit and sucked and scratched, and she went with it, desperately clinging onto the bed sheets as he rode her through the moonlit night.

And they were on the pathway that was made for only them. They were out in the wildness of the forests, far from the present, a place where no time existed, where all of Jenny's memories and references were lost in the swirling pool in which she found herself. She had no past behind her, and no future ahead. There was nothing but him and he filled her completely. Sensation was everything. Wild and thrilling sensation that made her claw the sheets and twist her neck. Sensation destroyed everything else until it was all she was. The feeling swelled in her as if she were a ship tossed around on an ocean of pleasure. Their limbs slid against each other, slick with sweat as they performed their mad, involuntary dance.

His thrusts came cautiously at first as he seemed to gauge the sensation, the effect upon her body. Then, as she responded, he thrust again, harder and with a devilish urgency. And then he was gone, careening off into the dark wild lands of eternity. Beneath him in that moment, Jenny realized that all her essence and all life everywhere could be distilled down to these heart-pounding minutes in which her body responded to its deepest mechanisms. These moment where their lives, their whole existences, bodies, minds, imaginations, DNA, crashed into each other, he like an enormous wave upon her beach.

Jenny gasped, and forced her hands from the sheets so she could touch his perfect skin. His muscles rippled beneath her touch, and he felt smooth, hard, powerful. He dipped into her faster and faster, and she bit her lips to keep from crying out, and then it happened—she exploded in all-encompassing pleasure.

Each part of her body felt fragmented. Feeling like a collection of doll parts, she lay there, panting. He had made her whole then pulled her apart again. And without thinking she chased after him, not willing to fall back into normality, not willing to go back to the sane, rational existence. The beast in her was free and it would not now be contained.

As Razvan slid down on top of her, letting out a deep and satisfied sigh, she twisted from under him. He was still excited and she sucked and licked him like a ravenous wolf desperate for the blood.

Razvan moaned at her attentions and when he was ready for her again, Jenny swung a leg over his waist and tangled her fingers in his hair. She pumped herself up and down, delighting in the sensations once again building within her body. Razvan responded and again they were set loose across the wild land that neither of them wanted to return from.

They danced in this way until the moon had left the night's sky and gray dawn filtered through the window, and then Razvan was gone.

The days after the night with Razvan were like the days after getting very drunk. Jenny was on edge and frankly amazed at herself. She was not entirely sure how it had happened or even what exactly had happened. She was sure she had never experienced the like of it before, and quite sure she would never do it again. But that didn't necessarily mean she regretted it.

She spent those days floating around the tourist shops with Ana, who appeared increasingly bored.

One evening she was lying in bed reading when Tom phoned, demanding to speak to Ana.

“You've got her number,” she said, “if you want to speak to her, phone her not me.”

“She's not answering,” said Tom. “What have you said to her?”

“I've said nothing,” she replied. “And if I did say something, what could possibly be worse than the truth?” In the background she could hear his girlfriend pestering him. “She's still with you then?”

“Of course she is,” he said, but he sounded weary.

“What happens when the money runs out?” she asked.

“Never mind that,” he said testily. “Just ask Ana to call me, will you? And by the way, I think it's totally wrong of you to go away like this. This will count against you.”

“You think it’s wrong of us to go away,” Jenny said, genuinely amazed. “That's rather ironic, don't you think? Considering.”

The line went dead. He’d hung up on her, but really, she wasn’t surprised.

She considered ignoring his request, but instead, sighed and got up. She knocked gently on Ana's door.

“Come in,” Ana said. She was reading with the light on.

“Your dad asked you to call him.”

“Yeah,” said Ana, “I'll maybe give him a ring tomorrow.”

Jenny went back to her room, thinking how nice it would be if she had Bruce's strong arms to fall into, and how lovely it would be to lie with her head resting on his chest.

From her pillow she gazed at the black outline of the Abbey against the blue-black sky. She thought of Razvan. She thought of how wrong it had all been but how it was all deliciously right.

Jenny closed her eyes and thought of Bruce again. For a moment she thought she might be tempted to combine the two thoughts, and then she fell asleep.

The next morning, Bruce presented them with two tickets for the steam train across the moors.

“It was the one they used to film Harry Potter,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“That's really kind of you,” said Jenny. “Thank you ever so much. I think we will have a lot of fun.”

Ana regarded the tickets suspiciously as she crunched her cereal. When they were waiting on the platform she turned to Jenny and said, “Does he think I'm an eight-year-old boy?”

“Come on, he's being friendly. It was a lovely thing to do. Anyway,” she said, “
I'm
excited, and I’m not an eight-year-old boy.”

Ana dug her hands into her pockets. They heard the steam engine a long time before they saw it. Then it came into view, the steam billowing out from the tracks until it covered them both. Jenny laughed, loving the magical experience.

The train took them out over the moors. Jenny sat by the window, happily watching the countryside go by, while Ana sat determinedly looking at her phone. But, decided Jenny, no one, not even a moody adolescent, could resist the charms of a steam train for long. On the way back, she spotted Ana breaking into a smile as a group of young children waved enthusiastically from a passing roadside.

Back at the guest house in the evening, Jenny decided to find Bruce and thank him once again. He was cleaning a recently vacated room.

“Give me twenty minutes,” he said, “and then if you really want to thank me, you can buy me a pint in the pub.”

She went up to see Ana. She was watching a TV series and barely seemed to register Jenny’s presence. “I won't be back late,” she told her.

But in the end she was. Jenny had no idea how the time went so quickly. Bruce was an easy person to talk to and she spoke a lot and at the same time learned a lot about him.

“How do you think the separation will end?” he asked.

“Divorce,” she said, without a pause. “There's no way back now. It's the way it is, even though it's horrible, and maybe I should try harder, but I just can’t.”

“You can't blame yourself,” he said. “It's clear that you were the victim in all this.”

“Not me,” she said, “but Ana. I can't help feeling that she's been let down. Two weeks ago she comes home with a tattoo of a cross, here,” she said, pointing to the base of her neck. “Can you believe that?”

“It's not the same, these days.” he said. “Kids today get tattoos as often as we buy clothes.”

He went to the bar and got two more drinks. It was after closing time before they finally left and walked slowly back to the guest house.

Bruce took two bottles from the kitchen, red for him, and white for her. “Will you sit with me?” he asked.

She grinned. “Of course.”

He led her to the bottom steps of the stairway, where they sat whispering loudly and hushing each other, in case they woke the guests.

Jenny nudged her shoulder against him in a drunken friendly way, and Bruce put his arm around her. She looked at him. He was very handsome, she thought, and then they kissed. Bruce’s lips were warm, and he tasted sweet like wine. Jenny sighed into the kiss, feeling immense comfort.

When they broke away, they continued to look at each other, calmly, knowing that some difficult and important question and been resolved.

“I can walk on my hands across the hall,” said Bruce.

Jenny laughed at the way he had broken the seriousness of the moment. “Don't be ridiculous, at this hour you can barely walk across there on your feet.”

“Sure, I can do that.”

“And why would you be able to do that?”

“Army training,” said Bruce.

“Army training,” repeated Jenny. “What's the good of being able to walk on your hands in a war?”

“Confuse the enemy,” said Bruce. “Make them think you've got no head.”

Jenny laughed, causing a little wine to go up her nose. “Don't be stupid,” she said, holding her hand over her face. “Ouch, it burns.”

“Also,” said Bruce, “it’s good training for conflict in Australia.”

“Whatever,” said Jenny, “I don't believe you.”

“If I can't do it,” said Bruce, “I'll bring you breakfast in bed, every day of your stay.”

“Done,” said Jenny laughing.

“However,” said Bruce, “if I can do it, you have to do something for me.”

“What's that?” she asked.

“Striptease,” he said.

Jenny nearly spat out her wine. “No way. You have to be kidding.”

“Right,” said Bruce, “because you know I can do it.”

Something in his self-satisfied macho attitude irritated Jenny. She looked at the hall. It was a good ten yards long. Then she looked at Bruce. If he had been sober then maybe, just maybe. But now? Wasn't a chance.

“All right,” said Jenny, “you're on.”

Bruce pretended to spit on his hand and they shook on it. Then he went to the door and did a handstand.

Uh oh, Jenny thought. He didn’t seem to have any trouble with balance.

He wove a little as he went, but he walked on his hands the full length of the hall.

“Damn it,” said Jenny and slapped her palm against her face.

“Always a bit easier when I've had a little to drink,” said Bruce.

Jenny laughed as he took her hand and led her up the stairs.

Jenny had never done it like this before. The idea of doing a striptease before Tom would have been ridiculous, but here she was standing before Bruce as he sat on the bed, holding his bottle of wine. Jenny felt the shyness, the panic that grew inside her until she felt almost dizzy. She removed her blouse and placed it on the lamp, bathing her in a soft orange light. That was better, she thought, more forgiving.

Jenny stood in front of him, her self-confidence growing until it bordered on the insolent. As she moved, she was astounded at the range of provocative gestures that she suddenly found herself capable of. Gestures that, previously, she could only have done knowingly and with a huge slice of irony, she now did slowly, teasingly, and she watched Bruce's eyes burn with interest.

When she was done, Jenny stood there naked for a moment. Bruce was completely still, as if still mesmerized. She leaned toward him and kissed him hungrily. She placed greedy kisses on his chin, neck and down onto his chest. She could hear his breathing, deep and low. Easily he gripped her waist and raised her up above him so he could kiss her breasts. He found her nipples and worked his tongue back and forth until both became hard. He settled her down onto his lap. She felt the hardness of him beneath her and gasped.

Jenny grabbed his shoulders and moaned while he pleasured her breasts until she felt she would die from the overwhelming sensations. Finally, she released herself from his grasp and returned to kissing his chest, marveling at the muscles working beneath. Jenny went lower, and he moaned with a mixture of pleasure and desire as if Jenny were pulling all of the pain and frustration from his body. At the same time, Jenny let out a soothing sound that resembled a contented purring.

Bruce gripped her waist. She reached around his back, her nails taking his flesh. Their bodies burned together, turning the cool English night into the fevered heat of the jungle.

As she bent her body over him, Jenny could feel the sweat running down his back and the dampness trickling from her thighs.

He lifted her, holding her so that all her weight was taken by his arms. She remained, teetering on the edge, on the brink of forever. Their eyes were locked together, contemplating the pact they had made. Then she moved down slowly on to him until he was inside her, deeply sheathed. They were very still, gasping at breaths, until, finally, their bodies began to move of their own volition.