The Werewolf Order (Erotica)

She folds her clothes neatly, setting them on the chair before she pulls her night gown on. Though she is still nervous about her legs, arms and chest showing she reminds herself that it doesn’t really matter since Rick doesn’t harbor feelings towards her. The depressing weight of the thought sinks into her body when she walks out from behind the screen. Rick stands at the desk just on the other side, rounding up her medicine. She can’t help but step closer, curious about the scars on his back; when she is only a foot away, she realizes they are from a whip. Feeling her heart ache, even her mind can’t stand the thought of someone hurting him. Without a second thought she reaches out to him, her fingers tracing the deepest one starting at his left shoulder. His skin is warm, the scar smooth. She gets angry but her voice comes out as a whisper, “Who did this to you?”

Feeling her touch, his shoulders droop a little and he remains still. Mora isn’t sure if his posture reflects irritation towards her or longing for her touch. Following the scar down his spine, her fingers end up at his lower back. She lets them linger there a moment; she wants to press her palm against him, her body against him but she makes herself pull away.

When her hand is gone, Rick reaches out to grab a bottle. His voice is angry, not at her but at the words that come from it, “King Irron of Alumenia.”

Mora quickly stifles a gasp by clamping her hand over her mouth. King Irron, a man she despises, a man she is not capable of loving, a man she will marry within a few days and be forced to spend the rest of her life with is the man who scarred the one she has feelings for.

When he begins to turn towards her, she spins around and walks to the pit so that he doesn’t see the expression on her face. Sitting with her back to him, she is close to tears, distraught by her fate. Rick sits down slowly in front of her, lifting her leg up into his lap. As he tenderly rubs the salve in, his touch so gentle and kind, she begins to cry. He reaches up to her, wiping away her tears. Holding her face in his hands he forces her to look at him.

He offers a reassuring smile, “It happened a long time ago. Consider yourself lucky-he is due to marry your Derven Princess next week. I am sure she will keep him occupied-they say that she is the most beautiful woman on this island.”

Having the completely opposite effect, she has to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from sobbing at the irony of his statement. Staring into her eyes, the smile fades away from his face.

“Obviously they have never laid eyes on you.” He pulls his hands away, eyes dropping to the ground, seemingly flustered at his own comment. He gets up suddenly, whispering quietly before he leaves her alone, “Good morning, Mora.”

…

She doesn’t sleep well or is even sure if she slept at all. When she finally ran out of tears, Mora stared off into the darkness towards Rick’s bed. Her body, one large dull ache is a mixture of emotions: anger, fear, lust, love, desire, sadness, regret, empathy.

Around the time she hears Rick stir in bed, she decides to get up first. Her eyes, burning from the tears and lack of sleep and her muscles tired from the same, beg her not to leave the pit but she rises anyways. She walks behind the screen before Rick has a chance to get up.

She is surprised to find that a dress has been set out for her. Though she is confused as to how it got there without her noticing, she pulls it on. It is a rich, green color and its low cut shows her cleavage but its tight fit secures them in place. The waist is high, just under her breasts and the front splits down the middle to reveal a lighter green skirt beneath. The sleeves puff at the shoulders and stop half way down her bicep.Content rights belong to NôvelDrama.Org.

All in all, while the fit of the dress is flattering she finds the amount of skin it shows repulsive; but knowing that she doesn’t have a say in her outfits, she steps out into the room. Seeing Rick’s bare back to her, she quickly sits down on the couch facing away from him. She undoes her braid, slowly brushing it out while hearing Rick get dressed. Mora rebraids her hair down her back, looking for the box of ribbons. When she sees several pins in the box, she picks them out instead. Feeling that a single braid is too plain for the dress, she wraps the braid around itself, forming a large bun at the base of her head before securing the sides down with the pins. She knows it doesn’t look as nice as is Eunice would have done but it will have to suffice.

When she hears the quiet clinking of metal, she turns her head to find that Rick stands only a few feet away, watching her. He has a matching green, button up shirt on with a knee length over coat of a deeper green, and black pants tucked into a fancy pair of riding boots. Her cheeks flush when she thinks of how handsome he looks, until she sees the chains he holds in his hand-the heat withdraws from her face and burns inside.

“Is there… something special going on tonight?”

Rick looks down at the chains with regret, “Yes. It is customary that you be chained when you leave my residence since you are an indentured servant,” he breathes, looking up at her; her anger gets snuffed out when she sees the trust in his eyes, “but if you promise not to run away and stay by my side…”

“Where am I going to go?” She says, slightly irritated, touching the collar on her throat. When she sees a hurt look on his face, she stands. Sighing, she gathers up her skirt and bends her knees into a dainty curtsey, “I promise, Master Rickan, to be on my best behavior.” The sarcastic tone in her voice makes him smile.

He walks to her, throwing the chains onto the couch. He offers up his arm, very gentlemanlike. She cautiously takes it, heart pounding when her fingers wrap around his bicep. He leads her out of the room and onto the balcony. Struggling to keep her hand from tightening around his arm and feeling his muscles, she isn’t able to keep her voice level, “May I ask where we are going?”

They reach the top of the stairs before he responds, “Yes, you may. Tonight we go to the dance hall.”

She stops dead in her tracks. When he looks at her she shakes her head, trying to put into words her dislike of a place Rebecca and Fanny frequent, “Do you really think… that it is wise for me to be near… them?”

He places his hand over hers and continues down the steps, forcing her to move once again. Her heart melts and she doesn’t object to being led though she doesn’t like where he will lead her, “No, but I am afraid that I-we-have no choice. Tonight is the Advisor of War Kelvin’s birthday celebration. He is Rebecca’s father and the Queen’s right hand. That letter last night was from him. In Sceadu, while all are invited to such an occasion it is more or less mandatory when you receive a formal invitation.”

They reach the bottom of the steps; his friends are already waiting around their table. She panics a little, now feeling completely out of place in a dress-she doesn’t want to be associated with either of those women, “I can’t imagine many will bring their servants with them… perhaps I should just stay here with Todd?”

Before they reach the table, Rick responds quietly, “The formal invitation was for you.”

Her heart drops. Why in the world would Sheynne’s Advisor of War invite her to the dance hall? Before she can figure out his reasons, they arrive at the table. James, Lucas and Sari are dressed as usual, but Daniel wears a white shirt beneath a dark blue waist coat, black pants and boots to match. When he sees them he looks over Mora, impressed a little, “I guess I am the only one who is joining you.”

“Yes, James and I will look after the tavern tonight,” Lucas adds.

Mora looks to Sari, pleading with her eyes for some help. She pretends to ignore her but gets up and stretches before turning to the bar, “Would you like some wine, Mora?”

Mora lets go of Rick’s arm, not needing anymore of a hint to follow Sari, “Yes, please.”

When they are out of ear shot of the men, Mora begs, “Please-you must come to the dance hall. I am afraid I will do something… regretful.”

Taking a seat at the bar, Sari shakes her head, “Even if I did, in fact, own a dress, I would never step foot in there. I can’t dance and I know no one would ask,” she replies gruffly.

Todd pours each of them a glass, offering up some help, “Eric will be there.”

Mora snorts, not seeing that as a benefit. She takes the glass of wine, mumbling to herself, “Wonderful.”

He shifts his weight to the other foot, waiting for her to set the glass down, “I wouldn’t worry about that. Eric knows better than to try to cross Rick. Besides, he said to tell you that your ‘secret’ is safe with him.”

She freezes, suddenly worried about what Eric told him. Sari asks what Mora is wondering, “What secret?”

He shrugs, “He wouldn’t tell me.”

“Hey, let’s go Mora!” Daniel calls to her. She drains her glass and turns to leave-Sari stops her briefly.

“Just… remember that you are supposed to be a servant. While none of us care, you probably should act a bit more respectful towards Rick and the other men,” though the words might have made Mora angry, she understands that Sari is trying to help her, “and no beating up anyone,” she adds with a smile.

As they head to the door, Rick once again offers his arm to Mora. She looks at it and though she desperately wants to hold onto him again she says, “I probably shouldn’t…”

Nodding, he understands. He holds the door open for her; she waits until Daniel and Rick are side by side and walking down the boardwalk before she follows. Keeping her hands clasped in front of her and her eyes on their feet, she floats behind them.

Mora didn’t notice the dance hall when they rode into town because it is the furthest building from the castle and tucked back from the others into a grove of trees. About the size of Rick’s tavern, it matches the others in exterior appearance. Brightly illuminated, the interior is wide open. Chairs line the very edges of the walls and stairs near the entrance lead to a balcony that wraps around the entire girth of the building. Furthest from the door, raised up a few steps is a lavish chair, where Mora discovers the Queen to be perched with guards on either side of her.

Bustling with activity, a stringed trio places a lively waltz to which the crowd in the middle of the floor dances to. She follows Daniel and Rick’s feet, only able to see the happenings out of the corner of her periphery. The men stop after they round the far corner; Daniel leaves her sight.

“May I present Daniel Fallhorn,” a man announces. She raises her head enough to see Daniel bowing deeply to the Queen, who acknowledges him with a small nod before walking off to the side.

“May I present Master Rickan,” he too, walks before the Queen and bows. Mora remains behind, unsure what she is supposed to do until the man announces her as well, “And his indentured servant, Mora.”

She walks gracefully before the Queen. As she has done many times before the Geofen King when she was young, Mora grabs the middle of her skirt with her right hand. Flourishing it in front of her before drawing it off to the side, she drops into an elegant curtsey while bowing. She holds her position, waiting to be dismissed. When she gets the feeling that several eyes are now upon her, she realizes that none have seen something as exquisite before. Mora draws herself up right, briefly glancing to the Queen. Sheynne, with one brow raised and a smug smile, tips her head to Mora in acknowledgement. She clasps her hands in front of her and leaves, rejoining Rick and Daniel.