Page 17 of To Run with the Wild Hunt

"And yet you come to me," I said, lifting my chin with a heavy-lidded look of answering challenge.

"And yet," she said. Lexi took a seat next to me, looking out across the open forest and the sunsetting sky. "Here I am."

"Hmm." I turned my eyes to the same sky. Though I didn't reach out to touch her, knowing I would never be able to stop myself if she pulled away, it pleased me to be sitting on the same rampart, watching the same sun set. I waited in silence for her, basking in her presence. I could never be content with merely that, but after the long hours and days without her, the warm scent of her skin and the sounds of her breath and beating heart were like a clean spring in the summer heat.

We sat there for a while with the shadows growing longer around us. I dared to look down at her, admiring the smooth line of her throat and the softness of her body beneath my robe. Though I knew she was intended as a punishment, and though the double handful of days that had slipped through my fingers had already been torture enough, with Lexi beside me I couldn't find it in me to rouse my rage at Sarcaryn. The Great Stag had bridled me at last—but perhaps he had forgotten how a brook horse might learn to love.

Only under the hand of a woman who had bound him could a brook horse shake his wildness for long enough to form an affectionate connection. Just so had Boenn claimed me, slipping a cow-halter over my muzzle while I slept next to her, so assured of my security and my knowledge of her capture that her sweet lullaby had stripped me of all defense. Though I wore no outward bonds, the soulmate bond that tied me to her was far more secure than any cow-halter. For her I would defy my own nature.

"Was it always ruined?" she asked, when the darkness grew deep and the stars began to show.

I rumbled a laugh. "No, of course not," I said, smirking down at her. "Many thousands of years ago, this palace was the heart of a Court, one that lasted more centuries than many in the Shifting Lands. It fell to enemies, but such places maintain a spark of what they once were." I patted the stone like one of my hounds. "The Ruined Palace isn't a fully-woken palace, for I have no Court, but I roused it and claimed it as my own when I returned to the faery wilds. It's good to have a safe place to return, and for the hounds to rest when I roam alone."

She swung her legs with an irrepressible girlishness that woke a surprising tenderness in me. "It's a nice place," she said, startling me.

"Oh?" I asked, tilting one ear towards her. "I struggle to imagine this being a finer home than what you're used to in the mortal world."

"Eh," she said, shrugging one shoulder. "I've never been one for endless luxury. I spent my money traveling and having adventures. Experiences are more worthwhile than fancy clothes and caviar. Besides," Lexi added, flashing me a smirk of her own, "this place suits you. It's grand enough for a fae lord without implying you're some sort of popinjay. I can't imagine a man with claws and antlers being at home anywhere that wasn't a bit wild."

I snorted at that, and reached up to knock a knuckle against one of my antlers. "I imagine they'd catch on the chandeliers."

Lexi's bright laughter rang through the night air. Every predatory sense locked onto that vivid joy. Her throat bared as she threw her head back, her body at ease, those dimpled fingers almost brushing my thigh where she braced herself on the stone—

No. I turned my face away before she could catch the flash of red in my eyes. I would not take anything from her she didn't offer. I would not.

"For the sake of the chandeliers, I'm glad you have a home like this," she said, smiling up at me, far too bright and beautiful.

I didn't look. If I looked, I would slide my fingers into her hair, and tighten them into a fist to hear her whimper, and then I would break.

"It pleases me," I said, my deep voice rougher than the topic deserved. "I'm glad it pleases you, too."

A deep woof! echoed up the stairs: Keilain. My nostrils flared with ire even as I recognized the rescue for what it was. Every moment, every heartbeat, every breath alone with my Alexis was another chance for me to hurt her. I'd already run her down once; set my hounds on her and left her savaged and dying. I couldn't bear to break her spirit the way I'd broken her body.

"Yon hound isn't patient," I said, sighing through my nose. "I suppose I shall bid you farewell."

Lexi got up, casting me a sharp glance. It struck me as irritated. Dare I hope that she wanted to be here—to stay with me? That the warmth of her company was from an appreciation of my companionship, not merely an escape from boredom?

But the look was gone as soon as it came, a brief flash of an expression, and I doubted myself as soon as her smile returned. Stay, I silently pled, looking up at her. Better yet, ask me to follow.

"Farewell," she said quietly, and left me alone.

A House Divided

Keilain Ueteroxe

Lexi stayed in the palace, and she stayed with me. It was hard to remember that this was strange and incredible—that the Master and I had torn her from her life and brought her here with the same finality as a prisoner. It felt so right to be by her side, every moment of every day. I had to keep reminding myself that her willingness to step into my world was an enormous grace, and not to take it for granted.

I easily fell into the patterns she enjoyed. We explored the Ruined Palace together, going all the places I'd never set foot as a hound. We examined ancient objects like historians and started turning ruined rooms into places comfortable for a mortal woman. I guarded her when she chose to speak to the Master, and when night at last fell we slept side-by-side in the Master's bed. I didn't know where he slept, and I didn't care. All that mattered was my Lexi, and the touch of her hand, and the taste of her skin when she let me lick her fingertips.

I would have kissed her whole body with mouth and tongue and teeth—would have worshiped at the altar of her cunt until she commanded me to stop. But she never touched me sexually; never kissed me or licked me or ran her hands down my body in a possessive caress. I would have come for her in any way she chose, but she never asked me for it, and she never, ever touched me like that.

I couldn't forget her shock and disgust at the idea of fucking a dog. I knew, too, that I couldn't escape what I'd become, no matter how much I tried to remember what I'd been. The memories were too far away, and the pleasure of being her hound too close at hand.

There was a world where I could have become her loyal pet. If I'd been stronger, maybe I could have done it. I could feel the ease with which we could have become mistress and hound, possessive affection on her end and utter devotion on mine. If I could only silence the animal hunger that gnawed at me, I could be hers, hers forever, always loved and always wanted.

But I couldn't stop myself—found myself licking the scent off her used underthings while humping my aching cock against pillows, the mattress, even through the rough grip of my hand. It wasn't just about the pleasure. None of the bitches interested me in the least, even the ones who liked to fuck in two-legged form or the ones in heat. I only wanted Lexi, and I wanted her with a reckless, untamable need.

I would have taken anything. Even if she merely tolerated my need – if she let me rut myself out against her thigh, or pass the hours with my tongue in service to her pleasure while she read or wrote or painted, or even just didn't mind being near me while I spent myself for her – it would have been enough. But I got nothing, and even as a hound I had too much pride to beg for it.

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