Authors: Gill McKnight
Ren rolled Isabelle onto her back on the floor and rose over her on all fours, bringing her face close until they were nose-to-nose. She was breathing heavily. Her eyes sparked sharply, like shards of crystal. Tendrils of damp hair as cold as mermaid’s fingers brushed Isabelle’s face. Isabelle could see the tremors running through Ren’s shoulders and down along her arms. Her mouth felt empty, her tongue and teeth useless—all of her was hollow. This was more than a need to bite Ren. She wanted to taste and take, to break the skin, to find a way inside and stay there.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Ren asked her again, quietly.
Isabelle didn’t know what she was doing or what was happening to her. She was acting on an innate directive that drove her from within. In answer, she reached up and bunched her hands in Ren’s long, wet mane, and taking great fistfuls, pulled Ren that last inch closer and kissed her.
Isabelle wasn’t exactly sure why she felt compelled to start the kiss, but a microsecond later she was sure of one thing. She had no idea what to do.
Maybe I’m not a lesbian after all?
Yet here she was, glued to the face of a woman she had grabbed by the hair, bitten, and forced to kiss her. It didn’t get much more Neanderthal than that.
And now, with the texture of Ren’s lips on hers, all her earlier exasperation and anger drained away. There was only this exquisite pressure and heat.
How come their mouths fit so well together, yet apart looked so different? Hers with its thin upper lip and little scar, and Ren’s, so full and heavy, like lazy, overripe summer berries. The soft flesh of her plump lower lip was silky smooth. Isabelle darted the tip of her tongue along the velvety inner surface. Ren groaned, and Isabelle’s confidence surged, so she deepened the kiss until she drowned in it. She felt dizzy, and swamped and swirled in all directions; spun out like fine thread until she snapped. Her only hope was to find something solid and hang on to it. So she clung to Ren.
Realizing Ren was letting her lead the kiss, she became braver, sucking on that luscious lower lip and trailing her hands across Ren’s shoulders and down her back. Her fingers twitched, fighting the urge to dig her nails in and mark. Her kiss deepened, she became hungrier, more demanding. She wanted it all, more, and more again—
“Enough,” she said, breaking the kiss. Isabelle lay staring into the flushed face above her. Ren stared back, her gaze brooding and unfathomable.
“It will never be enough,” Ren said.
Isabelle shivered at the finality in the words. They were devastating in their truth. She began to wriggle out from under Ren, acutely aware of the chill once their bodies parted. She wasn’t sure how to respond to those words, so she threw herself into denial.
“I don’t know why I grabbed you like that. I’m sorry.” Her gaze dropped to the red mark on Ren’s chest, just over her heart, and her shame and confusion deepened. “I’m…I’m so sorry I bit you. I…” She had no excuse. She had no idea why she’d done it.
Ren cupped her face and drew their gaze level.
“Never be ashamed of that,” she said. “It’s what makes us.”
Her lips grazed the fluttering pulse of Isabelle’s throat. Isabelle’s hands came up to mesh in her hair as Ren’s mouth moved over her.
“I know something about you.” Isabelle lifted her chin to be nuzzled. Ren’s lips rested over her thumping pulse.
“Oh?” she murmured into the flesh. “And what’s that?”
Isabelle’s kiss had sucked the very life out of her. Now Ren hovered over her, a quivering wreck, barely holding her weight on her elbows. Her body grazed the length of Isabelle’s and heat pulsed between them. Ren’s mouth flooded with so much need it burned her tongue.
Isabelle gave an incoherent moan as Ren’s lips found another sweet spot. Ren’s jaw muscles bunched and tightened as she struggled to keep her muzzle down. The tightness in her face warned her how close she was to changing. Her feet were boiling hot—cramped and aching in her shoes—another sign her wolfside wanted to rise.
“You know something?” she asked again, her lips moved over Isabelle’s silky throat. She darted the tip of her tongue out to taste. Isabelle tasted fresh and clean, like juniper, or new-mown hay. A delicious scent, but Ren was anxious now. What did Isabelle know?
“Uh-huh.” Isabelle nodded. Ren waited. The time would soon come when the werefever would pass and Isabelle’s mind would clear of its protective fog. This brought a new kind of misery for the unprepared.
“What do you know?” Her voice tightened as the beast inside struggled to take control.
“I know you can’t lie. At least not to me. You can evade my questions, and you do, wonderfully well. You can even get angry and bang out of the room to avoid answering, but you never lie.”
“I can’t lie to you,” Ren said, wary of where this was leading. Isabelle had already surprised her with her resourcefulness. She was a sneaky little thing, determinedly digging away for information. A true tracker. Ren was well aware the whole cabin had been tastefully ransacked the minute she’d walked out the door.
Her lips trailed to a spot under Isabelle’s ear where her pulse fluttered delicately. Isabelle squirmed delightfully under her. A low growl rumbled in Ren’s chest. She was enthralled by Isabelle’s scent, stupefied by it, and happily uncaring because she knew Isabelle was becoming sensitive to her scent, too. Soon their scents would trigger each other. Soon they would bond so tight there would be nothing else.
“You know all my best places.” Isabelle sighed. Ren nipped gently along Isabelle’s jaw and buried her nose in her hair to breathe in more of her.
“All your places are best,” she said. She could lie with her face in Isabelle’s hair all day.
“Why did you tell Patrick to burn my papers?”
Ah, back to that then
. “I didn’t.”
“I heard you tell him to.”
“You did
not
hear me tell him to burn your documents.”
Isabelle stared at her for a long time, her blue eyes glinting through the bruising. Ren smiled inwardly at the scouring gaze, almost afraid to blink in case she somehow endorsed her supposed criminality. She held the stare, amused and proud at Isabelle’s audacity and perseverance. She was a determined problem solver, which could either bode well or ill for her, depending on the strength of Isabelle’s patience. If she took her time and trusted Ren, then she would make the jump to her new life easily. But that was the problem. Ren knew that deep down. Isabelle didn’t trust her. Oh, she wanted to. Ren could feel her trying hard. But in the end, Ren had to earn her trust all over again, and she willingly accepted that.
“What happened to Joey?” The next question came fast.
“Joey had a hunting accident.”
“How? What happened?”
“I wasn’t there at the time.”
This was dangerous ground. Ren took a calming breath, but inside she struggled for clarity. She began to untangle herself and move away. Isabelle had a way of clouding her senses, and she had to stay alert while being bombarded with these types of questions.
“Oh no you don’t.” Isabelle grabbed at her and spun them over so she now lay on top. A pleasurable growl rumbled in Ren’s chest. Isabelle’s bite still stung and Ren was lusty from it. In other circumstances they’d be crashing around the floor, sending furniture spinning. But not yet. Isabelle was still too weak and Ren had to be careful with her.
“Don’t run away from me, Ren,” Isabelle said, her fingers fluttering against Ren’s cheek. Behind the cuts and bruises Ren saw uncertainty in her eyes, and her heart constricted. It should never have been like this.
“I won’t.” She gazed up into eyes as sharp as a spring sky.
We should have had a proper courtship.
The thought flew into her head and crushed her. Ren would have loved to woo Isabelle, to steadily and surely win her, instead of living this…this mockery. “It’s you who’ll leave me,” she said.
The words came out before Ren could censor them. Inwardly, she squirmed at such a maudlin premonition. It had been her growing fear every day since Isabelle arrived.
Isabelle’s eyes darkened. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came. Instead, she held Ren’s gaze and lowered her head until their lips touched. Then she whispered against them, her breath exhaling into Ren’s mouth, “I have to.”
Her appalling truth hung between them. Nothing she could do would diminish the sting of her words. Her mouth cupped Ren’s in a deepening kiss. As if she could shield them from their sadness. Ren’s arms wrapped around her, her grip tight, almost panicked, and Isabelle knew her blow had landed hard. She could never take back those words, so she closed her eyes and poured her regret into the kiss.
When she opened her eyes again, Ren was staring back. Her eyes shone like wet obsidian, every emotion flickered across their surface. Isabelle’s heart caught. She had never been looked at that way, with such yearning, yet challenge. The intensity froze her. These were hunter’s eyes, impossible to break away from. Ren reached up and cupped her face.
“When you leave I will follow you. I
will
find you. Every breeze will carry your scent. Every bent blade of grass, every rustling leaf will betray you. I will hunt you, and I will find you, and I will keep you. You are mine.”
Ren’s kiss was not hesitant or proper. She held Isabelle’s head in her hands and ravished her mouth. A growl resonated deep in her throat, making Isabelle tingle through to her backbone. Ren crouched over her. Her curtain of hair delicately flowed over Isabelle’s face and throat. Isabelle buried her fingers in its damp silkiness and twisted great fistfuls. Their eyes locked, bold and daring. Isabelle gave an extra tug, pulling hard. She bared her teeth in a sly smile. Ren was hers, too.
Ren’s growl rumbled with pleasure at the display. Her eyes glittered and her white teeth flashed from behind blood-red lips. With a throaty growl she covered Isabelle. Her fingers traced the nape of neck and throat. She followed the trail of her fingertips with a burning tongue. Her fingers hooked in Isabelle’s shirt collar and she tore it apart and licked the revealed flesh. Isabelle’s small breasts quivered; her nipples hardened. She released her hold on Ren’s hair and clawed the shirt off her back with grunting satisfaction.
Bare-chested, they rubbed against each other. Isabelle ran her hands over Ren’s scars.
“These are beautiful,” she murmured and run her tongue across the ridges on Ren’s chest, across her own mark. She practically purred with content. And then, she froze as a sudden anger flashed through her. She glared at Ren.
“These marks. Did other lovers make them?” Her voice was acid.
Ren laughed. “No. These are a collection of scars from all the beasts I’ve helped. I do dangerous work.” Her smile showed her amusement at Isabelle’s irrational jealousy.
Isabelle tensed. She was not jealous by nature, but the thought of Ren with other lovers enraged her. It seemed her placid nature was changing.
Ren lowered her mouth and captured a nipple, rolling it between her teeth, and all Isabelle’s jealousy evaporated. Ren worshipped Isabelle’s breasts with her tongue and teeth until they were swollen and glistened with her saliva and the areolas puckered hard. Isabelle murmured in disappointment when her mouth moved away, and then Ren was kissing the soft skin of her stomach, all the way down to her navel where her tongue dipped in ticklish curiosity. Isabelle kicked off her shoes and pants and helped drag off Ren’s clothes. Their legs and arms entwined as they locked against each other.
Ren pushed her thigh between Isabelle’s and kissed a track from Isabelle’s jumping pulse down to the valley between her breasts. Isabelle bore down, rolling her hips until Ren’s thigh was wet with her excitement. Ren slid down her body to tease her navel, dipping her tongue in the salty indentation until Isabelle’s belly quivered with each touch. Her hands knotted in Ren’s hair, guiding her lower, demanding attention where she needed it most.
Isabelle took command and raised her hips, offering herself up. She gasped when Ren’s dark head plunged onto her sex. Ren dove on the tender folds and ground her lips onto them, plundering with a thick, hungry tongue. She nuzzled and sucked on the plump clitoris as Isabelle rose to meet her. She laved her in long, firm strokes, driving Isabelle relentlessly toward orgasm. Her hair was pulled, her shoulders scratched as Isabelle cried out. Every molecule of her body centered on her—and then exploded in a tidal wave of pure, white heat. Her core melted and blew off a dozen pyrotechnics.
Isabelle lay dazed, panting at the ceiling as Ren crawled up her body. An enormous smile played across Ren’s lips, and Isabelle could smell her own scent on Ren’s face and hair. She gathered her into her arms and held her. Isabelle struggled for words but failed to find any. She was incapable of speech. Ren nuzzled her neck and across to her injured shoulder. Carefully, she pulled away the bandage. Isabelle twisted her head to see the curved row of scabby stitches. She was pleased they were healing well. Ren put her mouth to the wound and kissed it. Isabelle relaxed, a satisfied smile on her lips. The kiss became a deep, burning bite. Isabelle screamed as molten lead poured through muscle, then bone. Darkness enfolded her and nausea rolled through her in lurching waves. Then Ren let go of the bite and pulled her close, just as Isabelle thought she might pass out.
Seconds later, she felt a wet kiss on her ear and smelled her blood and sex on Ren’s breath.