The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

It takes a few minutes for the weight of Rick’s body on top of hers to register. Slowly, his soft cooing voice breaks through her panic. Her muscles ache from being so tense. When she stops struggling, Rick still remains, holding her down onto the pillows. She continues to get lost in his eyes, letting her body go limp against his. Only when her breathing slows does he loosen his grip-but he doesn’t let go. She must have been thrashing violently in her sleep.

“You were dreaming…” the words he speaks finally make sense.

She draws her gaze out of his eyes to look upon him; his handsome face is moist with the sweat of struggle. Mora must have fought hard against him.

“… I’ve never heard anyone dream like you do,” he whispers. When the words connect to a meaning in her head, the confused look that is slow to appear on Mora’s face makes him continue, “You were speaking in poetry; beautiful, eloquent words about… a brush tiger… and a hunter? When I came over to you, you started kicking and clawing, pulling on your collar… I had to… pin you down so you didn’t hurt yourself…”

Rick lets go of Mora’s wrists, shifting his weight off of her to sit on the edge of the pit. Mora doesn’t move. When he disappears from her view she continues to stare up at the cherry wood ceiling. Every part of her body hurts in one way or another. Her dream was so real. She swallows hard, thinking of what Amyee said about her after she killed her first tiger; it was as if the tiger loved her and gave its life to her. Tears rush to her eyes. Laren calls her the brush tiger. She has finally found her Hunter and he will be the end of her. She tries to blink them away but they fall down her face regardless.

Warm, tough hands wipe her face dry; a tender voice coaxes her out, “It is time to get dressed, the tavern will open in a few minutes.”

Mora doesn’t move until Rick is dressed and gone. She slowly sits up, taking time to collect herself. She doddles, stretching carefully before pulling on her pants, shirt and vest. She finds the brush and undoes her hair. Mora brushes and brushes, taking the time to straighten her hair before she pulls it back and tightly braids it.

Though her heart is crushed, her mind struggles to come to peace with her situation. Not only does she yearn for Rick, now that she has had a taste of love she desperately wants more. Before, she might have been able to convince herself to be vaguely content in her relationship with Irron but now that her heart has awakened, even though it lies shattered in pieces, she knows that her marriage will condemn her to a fate worse than death.

Torn by her obligation to the people of Derven she knows that neither the bonds of captivity nor the cold mountains of Alumenia are the right setting for a flower of love. She pulls on her boots, lacing them too tight so that the extra pressure will give her something real to be concerned about. Eric was wrong; perhaps it is easy for any man who met the Princess to fall in love but as an ordinary person she is nothing more than another woman in the crowd.

She tries to convince herself that if Rick had wanted her, he could have taken her. Because he hasn’t… it must mean that he doesn’t harbor an attraction for her. Chivalry is something only known to royalty; as he is her Master and she is but his slave not many would think less of him for doing what he wants to her. Because he doesn’t, it must mean that his heart beats for another. While she is trapped by her false identity, it allows her to see the truth of others.

Mora feels the darkening sadness she felt when her father found her in the orchard but this time it feels worse. She wishes she could see Amyee, or even Laren-someone who knows her, who she could possibly trust to give her some comforting advice to help her out of her hole.

Her shoulders droop and she has no bounce left in her step as she wanders out the door and down the stairs. Her lack of energy is quickly spotted by both Todd and Rick. Weaving her way in and out of tables, she walks slowly to her spot from before where she sits quietly in the same chair. Wanting to just close her eyes and never open them again, she resorts to staring at the wooden planks in front of her, though she sees nothing.

She can hear Rick’s sturdy but quiet footsteps lead him from the bar over to her. He hovers near her shoulder-Mora is thankful that he doesn’t touch her but instead sets something down in her field of view: a soft looking, dainty pair of gloves. Despite his words, his voice is kind, “If you wish to fight tonight, I would like to have a go.”

Mora nods to the table. She doesn’t want to fight him-she doesn’t even want to be near him. When she doesn’t speak he leaves, taking the seat across from her. She hears Todd’s loud footsteps. There is a clink of glass, meaning he set some wine in front of Rick. When he walks to her side, she still doesn’t move. Slowly a bowl of steaming stew slides into her view. A beautiful looking flower carved from a vegetable, floats on top of a rich brown broth. Her spirits lift slightly but she isn’t able to muster a smile for Todd, only a tiny, “Thank you.”

Methodically she dips her spoon into her soup and transfers it to her mouth. The warm, complex flavor warms her body but not her heart. She glances up when a tall glass of thick wine is poured for her. Mora slowly drinks the entire thing; as the alcohol pluses through her veins she can feel some of her darkness retreat. Revived a bit, she begins to taste a few flavors that don’t seem to belong to the stew-orange, lavender and chamomile. She knows Todd slipped them in there to lift her spirits and is grateful that he is trying to look after her.

Feeling slightly better, she rationalizes with herself. Though she is a prisoner in Sceadu, she is free from the oppression of her duties at home and free, for the time being, from King Irron. As Todd pours her another glass, she decides to lock away her guilt, since worrying about it won’t change anything. By the time she finishes her second helping of wine, she comes to the conclusion that she should see her time in captivity as a vacation from real life; instead of wasting it she should make the most it.

For the first time she is allowed to be a real person, to be talked to and treated like anyone else. At the moment she doesn’t have to worry about looking out for anyone but herself. Sulking around for a week isn’t going to change her fate-but then again neither will enjoying it; of the two, she would much rather enjoy herself while she still can.

Todd removes her bowl and refills both her and Rick’s glasses. She discovers, after looking up to Rick, a cold expression on his face. Somehow she knows that she has done something to offend him. Refusing to turn away, she stares him down. Slowly anger wells up inside of her. It is absurd that he dares to look at her in such a frigid manner-he was the one who refused her, not the other way around. She had let him in to her heart and when given the opportunity, he simply walked away and left her alone.

She starts to get irritated at the way he sits, so casually leaned against his armrest. She wonders if the kindness he has shown her was just a means to cover up his arrogance and conceit. After all, he didn’t stop Lucas from picking a fight with her-he didn’t know she could fend for herself he only guessed-what if she got injured? He pretends to be better than the other Masters but in actuality he isn’t. Even though he lets her sit at the table he still treats her like nothing more than property-she might as well be an unfeeling, unloved piece of furniture. Just as she is about to boil over and give him a piece of her mind a dagger slams down, tip first into the table in front of her. Mora whips her head around to see where it came from; her eyes land on Sari, who stands only a few feet away with Lucas, Daniel and James next to her.

“Since you two were staring daggers at each other, I figured I’d throw a real one into the mix,” she says, eyes locked on Mora.

She realizes that her and Rick, caught up in glaring at one another didn’t even notice the arrival of his friends. Mora blushes for her rudeness. She looks over the group quickly, trying to find a way to change the subject. It is when her eyes come back to Sari that she sees change. Sari’s unattended hair from yesterday has been washed and is now down, draping carefully on her shoulders. She appears to have dressed with more attention as her vest is laced evenly with a perfect bow at the end. There is even a small amount of rouge on her cheeks and lips.

The smile that comes to Mora lips doesn’t have to be forced, “You look lovely today.” After she mentions it, everyone turns their attention to Sari.

She shifts uncomfortably, stomping her way over to the chair right of Rick, making it a point to still walk like a man. She sits down before she mutters, “Well I couldn’t let you have all the attention.”

As the other men sit, James, who sits to her left, nudges Mora, “I thought you were going to take that dagger and slit Rick’s throat. Luckily for him, I bet you only use sticks to beat people with in Derven.”

Todd pours everyone a round of wine, refilling Mora with her fourth helping. She wraps her fingers around it, lifting it to her mouth while she tries to think of a way to respond. As the cool liquid snakes down her throat, she feels it ignite the anger inside- anger, this time, directed towards the seeming weakness of her country. She decides she should set the record straight and have a bit of fun at their ignorance. Mora sets the glass down before her taking care to position it in the center of one of the planks. Letting her hand slide across the wood she feels its surface worn smooth by years of use. When her hand lands on the pair of gloves Rick left for her, she is hit with pang of guilt. They are very well made and the leather is of the utmost quality. They are soft not because of use but because of the extra attention the maker gave them. They must have been expensive. Breathing deeply and in a very lady like manner she lifts one and begins to slip her left hand into it, “Do you know what a brush tiger is, James?” Even though she looks at James when she speaks, she can feel Rick staring at her.This text is © NôvelDrama/.Org.

“Never heard of such a thing,” James huffs.