Page 57 of Howl for the Gargoyle

I snarled and threw myself forward, claws gouging into the floorboards on either side of Rafe's head, driving myself down onto him roughly, grinding into the curls over his pubic bone. He was already stone, and his feet stomped and scrambled against the floor, scuffing loudly as he arched his back and let out a long, startled shout. His wings were pinned, but they drummed into the carpet as he came, body bucking up just enough to tip me over the edge.

I howled as I came, head thrown back. I was the wolf, crying to the moon, but my call was for Rafe alone. Strong arms banded around my back, pulling me into his chest, head turning and mouth searching for mine. He moaned into the kiss, still fucking into me, hands stroking up and down my back. He was cool to the touch as always, firm and comforting and familiar beneath me, and I collapsed into his embrace, forgetting anything but the lovely haze of the afterglow.

And then my spine snapped.

I stiffened and screamed into Rafe's shoulder, and his arms circled tighter before I could wrest myself away.

"Stay, I have you," he whispered in my ear.

I fought briefly, skin on fire, scars carving into my muscle, and Rafe kissed my temple in answer.

"Stay, Hannah. Let me hold you."

It wasn't less painful to be held while the transformation broke and rebuilt me. Rafe's gentle words in my ear didn't make time pass quicker. There was no relief for what I was and what I had to become.

But there was something better about it this time. Even if the torture never ended, as it always seemed, it would've carried on indefinitely while I was held against the cool chest of someone I liked, who didn't say it was 'okay' but just that they were there and wanted to be.

And it did end, as it always did, and I was on my side with Rafe sheltering us both with his right wing, soothing the tension out of my muscles with firm strokes of his hands, a furrow between his stone brows, dense with worry and anger. For me. It eased as I met his gaze, and I shivered as he reached up, scratching his fingers into my hair.

My tail thumped against the floorboards in answer, and he smiled.

"Want to run?"

I did. I wanted fresh air, the dark forest, and room to run, but only because I wanted something else even more.

"I want to chase you," I said, and a slight growl escaped with the words.

Rafe just grinned. "I won't make it easy for you. Unless you say I can't fly."

I snarled, and I rolled us back to where we'd been, my claws clicking against his skin but not digging in. "Why would I tell my pretty gray bird not to use his wings?"

Rafe's lips parted slightly, pupils dilating. "You know," he rasped out, and he licked his lips and swallowed hard before continuing, "I really like when you look at me like you're going to eat me."

I was aware of how toothy and sharp my smile appeared in this form, but Rafe remained unphased. "You mean it makes your lovely, thick cock hard," I purred.

He nodded, and his chest fell and rose quickly under my hands. "Yeah. That."

For a brief moment, the human part of me that'd been tucked away for the evening came crying out, tearful and full of gratitude for this man, this moment, the ability to enjoy being a werewolf. And then Rafe took advantage of my distraction, throwing me to the side and scrambling up. He ran for the door, the plug in his ass winking in the dark.

My laughter was rough and growling as I stood slowly, giving him plenty of a head start. I wanted to give chase immediately, the sound of his feet pounding against the ground, the crunch of frozen grass and brittle twigs perking up my ears. But I wanted Rafe on his hands and knees for me when I caught him too.

I let him run and anticipate and wonder as I reached for the delicate harness, stepping awkwardly into its openings with my altered feet and legs. I'd avoided looking at myself before spending the last full moon with Rafe, but I was growing more curious now. My legs were more muscular as a werewolf. The body hair—the fur—was unnerving, but it was also glossy and soft. I huffed as the harness twisted in the wrong direction, but then it was up around my hips, snug and comfortable around my strong thighs and ass. I reached for the dildo next, a modest size in the firmest silicone they made. It jutted out proudly as I fit it through the small gold ring, the base pressing securely against my pubic bone.

I buckled myself in and took a moment to study the effect. I felt a bit silly, but aroused too, and the fantasy of having Rafe pinned to my hips, plugged with a cock, was every bit as imperative as it had been when it'd bubbled up in my thoughts days ago.

"Hannah?"

I grinned at Rafe's call from outside. Was my gargoyle missing me? I bent forward, loping with my elongated arms, not thinking about my changed posture but just falling into the ease of the movement.

I was learning to be myself as a werewolf. I would still be learning for years to come, but was that really so different from being human?

The air outside was sharp, but my flesh was denser and now furred and my blood ran hot, insulating me against the cold. Somewhere above—I paused to listen and found it was coming from the west—a pair of heavy wings beat once in the air, preparing for flight. I ran, and Rafe leapt down from whatever tree branch he'd been hiding in, coasting toward the ground, a massive, dark shadow of stone. I jumped as he neared, and he laughed, throwing himself higher so only my claws teased along the bottom of his foot. I laughed with him and circled, racing his shadow as it fluttered over the ground.

It was time to hunt.

CHAPTER 21

Rafe

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