Page 45 of The Howling
Wow. Just wow.
I don’t even want to think about how it felt when I sat on Reavely’s lap or how he made me feel with his mournful howl.
Or what it was like to kiss those pillowy lips or have my fingers dug deep in his wolf form’s soft, dark fur.
At least until all the intrusive thoughts pulled me back from the brink.
I was nearly at the mercy of a monster, and my brain is on high alert. I don’t know how I could let Reavely in, even if I was sure it was what I wanted.
And this is the reason I’m staring at the ceiling in the dark. Something I’ve always hated doing.
A scuffling at the door makes me sit bolt upright. I’m only wearing the thin shift again. Having given the dress I got from Bessie a good thump, virtually all the stains disappeared. It hangs on the outside of the wardrobe, and I consider whether or not to put it on.
If there’s a threat, I should be ready. I don’t know where Reavely is, and I can’t expect him to save me all the time like some damsel who can’t help herself.
Reavely, the Barghest who has a curse which might be lifted if he mates, if he marries. But then it never ends in the Yeavering. Not if there are demons, and a Reaper, and the Faerie.
I have the old standby, bedclothes, to rely on, and I wrap a heavy brocade throw around me. Given I’m living with a Barghest, after what I’ve seen him do, I can’t imagine there’s much in this castle which is scarier than him.
Which means the noises outside the door can only be from one creature. The one who is keeping me from my ceiling staring.
I grumble under my breath as I pad as quietly as I can to the door and then fling it open. Reavely is stood with his big back to me, one clawed hand clutching at his neck, rifling his hair, something I desperately want to do.
He turns at the sound of the door opening with a pained expression on his face. Partially shifted into his were-form, he’s entirely naked.
And when I say naked, he might be hairy, but it can’t hide the utter beast this beast is packing. As I stare at his cock, it swellseven more until it’s stood to attention, the thick veins swirling down the pulsating shaft as a bead of pearly pre-cum appears on the tip.
Reavely looks down at himself with a whine.
“I do not wish to distress you, mate,” he says. “I should have dressed before coming here.”
“There cannot be a pair of trousers in the entire of the Yeavering to contain that…thing,”I choke.
I probably should be running, again, but somehow, this time, Reavely’s appearance, even with his cock out, isn’t as intimidating as having him standing over me. In fact, if anything, having him like this, in front of me, aroused by me, and not attempting to do anything, is weirdly empowering.
I swallow down the hint of fear which is easy enough, given the situation is utterly ridiculous.
“My prick wants you, Wynter. I cannot deny it.” Reavely puts his hands on his hips, emphasising the enormity of his cock.
“Does it? I’m not sure I can tell,” I tease.
“It does. It has from the moment I scented you in the dungeons. I have had to take myself in hand on a regular basis in order to stop losing my mind.”
I feel like I’m doing another fish impression.
“You did what?”
“Took myself in hand,” Reavely says matter-of-factly. “Not that it helped much. My prick is always hard whenever you are near.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I’m doing my level best to not to allow my eyes to be drawn down to his crotch level.
It isn’t working.
“I am not,” He says. “I wish to mate you, little deer. I wish to breed you full of pups and enjoy your rounded form all the time you carry them.”
I absolutely should not react to this utterly filthy statement, but my core clenches. Hard. Reavely’s nostrils flare like before.
“I’m not sure,” I stammer out as he steps closer.
