Page 2 of Werewolf Heart

“I know.”

This admission had not been easy for him, although Sara’s concerned gaze soothed his hurt pride.

“Okay, so, I guess you’re a werewolf now,” she said, unwavering calm. “No vaccine for that, I’m afraid. We’ll have to adapt. Stock the freezer with meat so another mental breakdown doesn’t happen. You’re going to have to be more careful with how you handle things. But at least your vision is cleared up now, if anyone asks just say you got contacts. Besides that… Was it a full moon when the thing bit you?”

It had been quite bright that night, he realised.

“Now that you mention it, yeah, it was a full moon.”

“Hmm, okay.” Sara looked at the calendar hanging on the wall and frowned. They had a week before another full moon was up. “Maybe, uh, maybe we just—”

“I can ask for a few days off, don’t worry. And one of my uncles has a cabin up in the countryside. I’ll say it’s a get together and, well, buy some chains. Hope for the best.”

“And who will strap you down?”

He blanked. “Damn.”

“And won’t your uncle be suspicious if a city boy like yourself asked for a cabin in the middle of nowhere?”

“I, well, I—”

She tilted her head. “Say it’s a romantic getaway instead.”

“What?”

“I’ll come with. It will be less suspicious.”

“You can’t. Sara, what if… What if I hurt you?”

She looked at him like the idiot that he was. “That’s why we’re pinning you down with iron chains and keeping you behind a locked room. Then I’ll take the car and drive to a pub somewhere. I’ll probably spend my night listening to podcasts and napping in my car.”

He shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do this.”

“Thank God you’re not asking. I’m doing it, Rob. Just accept it.”

And that was the end of it.

The smell problem didn’t kick in until they got to the cabin. They were there for about five hours before Sara pinned Robert’s arms behind his back. While she turned her head, a long strand of curls hit his shoulder and the smell—it was all he could feel. Oh, he felt the iron. Robert felt the cold digging into his back, almost scorching. He felt something crawling inside him. The need to tear and bite growing stronger and stronger as the sun went down. An animal was howling and, by God, it wanted to be let out.

His head hit the door, once, twice, then a sniff had him paralysed. Woody. With a hint of lilac.

Perfume, he realised. I’m smelling Sara’s perfume.

It stuck to the door, and the chains, and his clothes when she had hugged him goodbye.

“Oh G-God,” he’d whimpered. The smell had been so strong it felt like Sara was right beside him. Like she was clinging to him, her hands wrapped around his waist, her hair right next to his cheek. “F-Fuck.”

He also smelled other things. Like the two day coffee stain on her jumper, the lavender softener she used, the dirt under her boots, mint nail polish, the egg muffin she had for lunch—

“Sara,” Robert moaned. “Fuck, Sara.”

The animal in him stirred, growled. He could feel his skin changing, fur in places where there had never been, his nails growing and curling. It was like a heat that never passed, as if he stayed too long in the sun. But it didn’t hurt, surprisingly, none of it hurt. Not his limbs twisting and turning, his toes extending, vision changing colour. None of it pained Robert. Because he had Sara.

Sara, Sara, Sara, Sara—

The animal inside him screamed for her. Longed for her. Not to hurt her—no, no, no—not to maim or gnaw. The beast wanted Sara.

He wanted Sara’s hair on his face, her skin touching his, he wanted her lips on his neck, his chest, over the large ugly scar on his shoulder. Robert imagined her going down on her knees. Gaze fixed on him while clever hands played with his freed cock. He moaned at the thought. The beast squirmed on the ground as picture after picture flowed its brain. Light kisses around his head, tongue tracing long veins, the wet warm sensation of her mouth engulfing him—

---