Lenay would never be able to say what it was that had her opening her door in the middle of the night.
A sound.
An instinct.
Something dragged her from her bed and out into the night. She only paused a second when she saw the naked, blood-covered man lying in her yard before she used her magic to lift him and bring him into her little stone house.
Holding him still, hovering above the floor, she rushed around, collecting linens to spread before the fire and lighting candles with a flick of her hand. Once her task was done, she lowered his bleeding body down as gently as she could.
She passed a critical eye over him before turning to collect the things she would need. A needle and thread. Warm water and a soft cloth. A towel to dry him.
Then she set to work. Wiping as she went so she could see the wounds better.
Deep gashes marred his strong muscular body. So many wounds. So much blood.
Hours passed, and Lenay kept at it. Her back ached, but still, she worked on stitching each wound on his chest, stomach, and long legs closed before gently turning him to work on his back, buttocks, and the backs of his thighs.
Small neat stitches held his torn and slashed flesh together. By the time she put the last stitch in a particularly nasty wound on his thigh, he looked like a quilt with its lines of stitching holding the layers together.
She rinsed her needle in the bowl of now-cold water before returning it to her sewing kit. Freshwater was what she needed. Lenay stretched her tight muscles as she walked to the sink and the bucket of fresh water in her kitchen.
In moments she was back with the man in front of the banked fire. Passing her hand over the deep bowl, she heated the water to soothingly warm and dipped the soft cloth in before ringing it out.
Time seemed to stand still as she slowly and carefully washed away the blood to reveal her patient’s stunning physique.
She refused to think about what helping this man would mean for her. She knew what he was. She could feel his energy radiating off him like a heatwave.
Would he kill her for helping him? Would he do to her what had been done to him and slash and tear, ripping her small body apart until she was no more than a pile of meat.
Her hands shook with exhaustion as she turned him again with the magic inside her. She may be small of stature, but she was strong in her magic. Her power pulsed off her, disturbing the natural order of things if she didn’t use it enough. It was why she lived alone, secluded from others.
It was safer that way. Safer for her and safer for them.
A blush stole across her cheeks as her slow strokes of the damp cloth revealed the sharply defined contours of the male’s body.
Lenay had never been with a man. Never seen a man in all his naked glory. A solitary life so far away from people didn’t lend itself to intimate relationships.
She hesitated only a moment before kidding herself at her hesitation to clean all the parts of the man, even the resting length of his manhood between his legs.
The man made not a sound nor moved an inch as she finished her task. A quick glance at the man’s face showed blood smeared across his cheeks.
Not one to leave a job unfinished, Lenay rinsed out the cloth and wiped gently across the man’s high cheekbones and down into the thick beard that covered the lower half of his face.
She studied his face as she stroked the cloth across his smooth, bronze skin. He was handsome in a rugged, masculine way, nothing like the pretty men she had grown up with, nothing like the soft, spoiled aristocrats who had tried to win her hand.
No, he was all man. Hard, tall if the length of his legs was anything to go by, and so broad he made two of her. But it was his face that really drew her. Straight, almost aggressive black eyebrows sat over deep-set eyes with long black lashes. His beard was black as well, but his hair was a dark brown with some lighter highlights as if he spent a lot of time in the sun. Full, almost sensual lips were parted slightly, and his nose was straight and nicely shaped.
The deep bronze of his skin, all over, attested to how much time he spent outdoors.
Finished with her task and her perusal, Lenay rose and collected all her tools to put everything away before lifting the man and settling him down in her bed.
With a wave of her hand, the candles were extinguished, and she climbed into her bed on the opposite side as the man, pulling the covers up over him.
Exhaustion pulled her into the abyss of sleep, her eyes fluttering closed. The last thing she saw was the strong profile of the man. A man she knew held her life in his hands.
The next morning he was gone. Bloodstains on her pure white sheets were the only sign he had ever been there.
A deep sense of grief and aching loneliness followed Lenay around as she attended to her chores. Without her magic, there was no way she would have been able to live alone as she did. The heavy tasks were made simple with a wave of her hand and a small surge of power.
The garden flourished under her careful eye and provided her with more than enough food. Winters in her little meadow were mild, and the summers, although hot, were relieved by steady rain.
Having the man in her home had been her chance to talk to someone, Her chance to learn of the outside world for the first time since she had been left here.
Lenay left a candle burning in the window for the man in case he sought to return but knew it was hopeless. She would never see him again. She would never be able to explore the strange warmth that had flooded her body as she’d stroked the wet cloth over his long limbs.
She’d never get to see what color his eyes were or hear what his voice sounded like. She’d never learn his name.
The next morning she found a dead rabbit on her stoop. Its long brown ears and fat, well-fed body seemed tiny on her stone step.
Her eyes flew to the forest that grew at the edges of her meadow. She rarely ventured into the woods. It was dark and chill, and a deep sense of foreboding always filled her whenever she had to go in there.
Reaching down for the small body of the rabbit, she felt eyes on her. A curious warmth pervaded every inch of her body and had her heart racing.
“Thank you,” she whispered, the breeze carrying her words across the meadow.
A long eerie howl cut through the silence of her home, setting the birds of the forest into a squawking, flapping mass rising into the sky.
Chills ran across Lenay’s arms and down her back. Not a chill of fear, but of something else, something that should have terrified her all the more but didn’t.
The meat was to be cherished. It had been a long time since she had eaten any. Usually, she found her protein in eggs from her chickens. It was only when a bird became too old to lay that she would kill it and boil it up for soup.
Two days later, a large pheasant was on her stoop.
This time when she looked across the meadow towards the forest, a dark wolf sat at the edge of the trees, watching her. Waiting for her to open her door and see its gift.
She pulled her robe closer around her and bent to pick up the bird. It was the largest pheasant she had ever seen, and there was no way she would be able to eat all of it on her own.
“Will you eat with me? As a thank you for your gift, have supper with me,” she said, not bothering to yell. She knew the beast would hear her.
The wolf turned on his haunches and loped off into the forest, giving her its answer.
Crushing disappointment had tears welling up in her eyes. She dashed them away, angry with herself for hoping the man would return to her, for hoping for something that could never be.
Oh, how she wished and wanted. Her body yearning for something she couldn’t explain. Needing something she’d never experienced. The ache between her legs was constant, the flesh swollen and wet.
She tossed and turned at night, dreaming of the dark man and things that left her breathless and panting only to wake feeling tired and out of sorts.
And her magic, she didn’t know what was happening, but ever since she had sewn him up, her magic had been erratic and confusing. Swelling inside her until she thought she would burst with the pressure only to be dormant when she needed it.
On the sixth day after she had found the man in front of her little house, she was tending her garden under the warmth of the late spring sun, dirt on her hands and her hair pinned up to keep the hot mass off her neck.
She wore a simple, white blouse that gathered around her neck, tied loosely, and a long skirt that gathered at her waist. Her feet were bare, so she could feel the energy in the ground and hear what the soil was telling her.
A prickle along the back of her neck was the only warning she had that she wasn’t alone. A gasp left her as she spun around to find the man standing not two feet behind her, his broad chest and strong shoulders bare. A leather loincloth hung around his trim hips, sitting so low she could see the beginning of the deep-vee that led to his manhood. Long, powerful legs and bare feet were spread in a relaxed stance.
She stared up into his bright yellow eyes, her breath held as she waited for him to talk.
Long minutes ticked by, and he said nothing. But he looked at her, his gaze wandering down her body, taking in her pinned-up hair and the almost see-through quality of her flimsy top.
Her nipples tightened as she felt the heat of his gaze wash over her, pressing against the soft cloth. A low rumble escaped him, a sound so deep she felt it clear to the heated flesh between her legs.
It was only as she looked back at him, taking all of him in, that she realized he was healed. More, his skin was smooth and scar-free. There was no sign of her stitches or even a hint that he’d been hurt so badly.
“I have need of you, little witch.”
The sound of his deep gravelly voice sent a cascade of flutters churning in her belly. Oh, Lords of the Seasons, she wanted him to need her. As much as she needed something from him. Something she couldn’t name, something she instinctively knew he would be able to give her.
“Yes?” she asked quietly, smoothing her hands down her skirt.
He turned, and she saw long rows of careful stitches in his now smooth wound-free skin.
“I cannot get them out.”
No, she didn’t suppose he would be able to reach the stitches still in his skin. Excitement fluttered in her belly at the prospect of having her hands on his body again. Feeling his warmth and touching all that smooth bronze skin. The flesh between her legs pulsed, and it was all she could do not to tremble.
Another rumble rolled out of him, sending her pulse pounding in her ears. She could do this, she could help him, and then he would leave her alone to her lonely life. Sadness weighed down her shoulders as she moved towards him, her feet making barely a sound on the narrow path in her garden.
“Follow me,” she said as she passed him and started towards her little stone house with its thatched roof and open windows.
Her heavy timber door stood open, allowing light to spill into her home. The fire had died down to embers, but the stones around the hearth were still warm.
Lenay fetched a quilt out of the blanket box at the end of her bed and spread it on the floor.
“Lay down. I just need to wash and collect my things,” she told the man as she moved towards her kitchen.
Minutes later, she returned to find the man had removed his loincloth and lay on her quilt on the floor in front of her fire. She set her bowl of water down beside him with the now clean cloth she had used to clean him that night that now felt like eons ago and pulled her small pointed scissors out of her sewing kit.
Setting to work, she cut and pulled each stitch out of his smooth skin, using her magic to help when some proved stubborn. Her magic flared over him, stroking gentle fingers along his skin, testing for entry to swirl inside him. She had never felt anything like it before. Her magic had never behaved this way before with anyone, and she couldn’t say why it choose to do so now.
The man progressively became stiffer and stiffer with tension as she worked until she was worried that she was hurting him. His energy rolling off him in scalding waves.
“I’m sorry if I’m hurting you.”
“It’s fine,” he rumbled. But it wasn’t fine; he sounded like he was in pain, his voice tight with suppressed…something.
Lenay moved down to his thigh, having finished with the last of the stitches that had trailed across his firm buttocks. Little dots of blood were sprinkled across his skin where she had pulled her thread from him. She hated that she had to hurt him to get the stitches out, but it was unavoidable.
At last, she removed the last stitch and replaced her scissors in her kit. Rinsing the cloth, she only turned away from him for a moment, but it was enough time for him to spring to his feet faster than she could track with his loincloth in his hand.
She glimpsed his straining manhood standing thick and long out in front of him before he turned away to tie on his loincloth.
A small noise escaped her at the sight of him. So primal, so masculine and proud. Her blood felt like fire in her veins, her body weeping for something she didn’t understand.
Lenay had been cosseted by her parents. Kept away from the young men of her town to keep her pure, but she’d heard other young women whisper in town about the young men strutting around. Whispers that had brought a blush to her cheeks and sent her scurrying for her mother.
But this, this was something she was desperate to explore. Her magic reached for the man, twinning around him, stroking the lengths of his legs and the hard muscles of his back and shoulders.
She wanted him to explain what she was feeling and tell her how to relieve the ache between her legs that had been ever-present since she had sewn him up. She wanted to understand why her magic was drawn to him. She wanted him to talk to her.
The little witch didn’t get what she wanted. The male walked towards the open door without so much as a thank you or a glance.
Still sitting on the floor, the wet cloth in her hand, Lenay felt tears sting her eyes.
“Please,” she whispered, not exactly sure what she was asking for but knowing she needed it nonetheless.
Searing energy rushed over her, scalding her skin and drawing a whimper from her throat. The man stopped in her doorway, his back rigid as he turned just his head to look back at her. His eyes blazed fiercely in his face, seeming to glow in the sunshine that spilled through her door.
“You don’t want what you’re asking for, little witch,” he growled so low all the fine hairs on her neck raised in warning.
But she did. She wanted whatever he was prepared to give her. Something drew her to him, something she didn’t understand, but she knew if he walked out her door, something inside her would die. It would wither and decay until there was nothing left of her but an empty shell of the woman she was.
“Stay, please…I…I need…”
Lenay didn’t know what she needed, only that he could give it to her.
“If I stay, little witch, I will take you, and if I take you, I will bind you to me for all eternity. You will be cursed to be by my side until your breath leaves you and the earth reclaims your body. Trust me, you don’t want that.”
Her magic surged out of her in a great wave, swirling around him in a rainbow of colors, slipping in and out of his body, stroking along his skin, laying claim to him. Her breath caught in her throat as a deep groan rumbled up from his chest, then he was there in front of her, his bright yellow eyes boring into her.
“Tell me to go, little witch. Tell me you don’t want this.”
He crouched on the floor in front of her, his knees spread on either side of her. He was so close she could smell him surrounding her. He smelled of wild things, animals and forests, sunshine, and magic. Her magic.
“I want it. I want you; my magic wants you.”
A low growl was the only warning she got before he’d pulled her forward with a rough hand in her hair, dragging her up against the hard plains of his body as his lips devoured hers.
There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed her. Her first-ever kiss was hard, primal, and left her gasping, shocked to her core that something could feel so good.
“I’m going to devour you, little witch, and when I’m done, the will be no doubt in your mind who you belong to, and then I’m going to do it again.”
And he proceeded to do precisely that. He licked and sucked and bit every inch of her body until she was trembling. The flesh between her legs was so swollen and wet it perfumed the air with her need. She ached deep inside for something she knew only he could give her.
Then he was over her, pressing his hard manhood to her slick heat. Pushing into her with relentless pressure. His big body was tense over her, his arms trembling with the effort.
Lenay whimpered at the pleasurable pain. She stared up into his eyes, unable to look away, and then with a swift thrust and a sharp pain that drew a cry from her gasping lips, he was seated inside her. Tears squeezed from her eyes.
“Shh, little witch, it won’t hurt ever again, I promise.”
He drew back, and Lenay thought he was getting off her, but his hips rocked back into hers only for him to repeat the process again. Pain morphed into pleasure as he moved in and out of her. Something built inside her, a pressure that had her gasping at each thrust until it was all too much, and she flew apart underneath him.
A deep growl ripped through the air just before sharp teeth bit into her shoulder. Lenay screamed as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her sending her thoughts spinning and her body spasming around her wolf’s manhood.
Another deep growl rumbled against her shoulder as her wolf bucked against her before pushing his hips against hers, a deep shudder wracking his body.
A gentle tongue swiped across the bite on her shoulder. Lazy strokes that had shivers racing down her back.
Lenay’s magic pulsed all around them, entwining them, twisting their life strings together into an unbreakable glowing rope that ran from one to the other.
“My mate. So beautiful, little witch.”
Lenay looked up at the man who was now bound to her and saw a gentle tenderness in his beautiful yellow eyes. He lowered his head, pressing his lips against hers, kissing her with a gentleness that surprised her before he started to move inside her again.
Her wolf proceeded to bind her to him so thoroughly that she didn’t mind being devoured at all.