Dangerous Woods E-Book

Arian Wulf

• Herausgeber: Boruma Publishing
• Kategorie: Erotik
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

Being the only werecat in a kingdom run by werewolves means a hard life for Laura. She is the King's favorite dancer, so it surprises everyone when she is given the role of Emissary. She is sent on her last mission, after which she is to join the King's vast harem and taken for the first time. Except nothing is as it seems...

~~~~~ Excerpt ~~~~~

"Ah, but do you remember how to dance for me?" he asks with an emphasis on the last two words.

Her eyes widen at the peculiar question. His fingers tighten on her chin, enough to draw blood from her delicate skin where his nails dig into them. From the corner of her eyes, she sees Sir Lucan baring his teeth in an almost snarl. "I have always danced for you, my King," she answers carefully.

"Good girl," he says. "Give me a kiss." He does not wait for her to respond as he pulls her chin forward forcibly until his lips are on hers, fingers clenching hard on her jaw to pry her lips open so he can taste inside her mouth. His tongue seems to be everywhere at once, sliding over her teeth and around her tongue. She resists the urge to bite him, knowing that the repercussions of hurting the King would be swift and harsh. She obediently follows when he links an arm around her waist and pulls down to sit on his lap.

He tastes of grapes and burning alcohol. She goes slack in his arms, not wanting to displease the King. She lets out a distressed whimper that he mistakes for pleasure, his fingers hiking her skirt up, past her stockings, exposing lace garters that she wears beneath it. She reacts without thinking then, clenching the hem of her skirt and pulling it back down.

He chuckles and pulls away. "Shy little thing, aren't you?" he comments, the corner of his eyes wrinkling in amusement. "Have you let anyone touch you?"

She shakes her head, mortified that he is asking what he already knows. None of the dancers in his court is allowed to lay with another. Even the maids pity them sometimes, for their inability to even talk to another man without risking the King's ire. She is special in that regards, because she is a dancer who got away.

Perhaps, she should have run further. She thinks of the kiss that she's shared with Sir Lucan and swallows the lump in her throat. Something must have shown on her face because he asks, "Have you been a good girl for me, my dear?"

She flinches. "I've been good, my King," she says looking down.

His fingers are tinted with red when he pinches her chin again. "Perhaps I should check you here, hmm? Would you prefer that?" He shifts her on his lap, dragging her legs open until she is straddling him on the throne. She puts her weight on her knees and doesn't rest on his lap, like he wants to. He wraps his arms around her small waist and pulls her to him.

She yelps, placing hands on either sides of his head to keep from falling forward completely. She dare not move when she feels his hands on her thighs beneath her skirt, nor when he unlaces the garter she wears to hold her stocking up. She feels his fingers on her bottom, clenching the soft flesh there and cupping her behind in front of all the men and dancers. She shakes her head, her eyes filling with tears of humiliation. "Please, my King. I have not laid with anyone."

He grins, pleased by her answer, and then pulls her forward to press another kiss on her closed lips. "Good girl," he says and his fingers slide beneath her garments.

She hears a low snarl from the knights, and suddenly, she is released.

"Dance for me."

Leseprobe

Alpha Submission 3

Dangerous Woods

Arian Wulf

Copyright 2018 Arian Wulf

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental. All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older. No part in this book may be reproduced, transmitted, stored, or distributed without permission of the author or publisher.

Chapter 1: Long Live The King

It is not the kind of place that Laura thought she would step foot in on her own. When she first stepped foot out of the palace, she had tried to make her colorful clothes less conspicuous by draping a brown shawl over her head, but all that manages to do is make her more conspicuous. Conversations stopped to look at her, staring openly at the peculiar beauty that has deemed their dirty floors worthy.

Nowadays, she just walks into the square where the men gather to drink after the sun has set as if she belongs there. In a way, she does. People still stare, but they do it less now because they know the Knights that she spends her time with do not appreciate their ward being ogled at so openly.

"Lady Laura! Over here!" Bear roars the moment he sees her approaching. Bear is, like his namesake, a giant of a man with tanned skin and a perpetual angry face that is feared by many. He is, however, very gentle and loving once anyone gets close enough to know him. It doesn't happen often because of his terrifying exterior. Like the other knights on the table, there are multiple scars on his face and arms, and she knows there are many more beneath his armor.

She shakes her head and smiles a little at the loud greeting. "Good evening, Sir Bear," she tips her head at him a little, but does not bow. She ranks above them for now. She does, however, courtesy to the man on his left, Sir Lucan. He has served with the King for many years and has earned his position as the king's most trusted Knight. Sir Lucan is the only Knight who has not accompanied her in one of her missions. When she asked the King about it, he had told her that Sir Lucan thinks her missions would not require every knight to keep her safe.

It had been a punch in her gut when she is told of this. She hero-worshiped the Alpha werewolf, thinking he is the best knight of all the knights in the kingdom. She thought he enjoys her company as much as she enjoys his, since he never fails to appear during her dance performances.

Again and again, the King reminds her that it is by his own hand that he does not join them on their missions. His dislike of her is not concealed. He does not think her worthy of his King's favor and wishes her gone. She wishes herself gone too, some days.

Lucan is seated beside Bear and is half hidden in the shadows with his seat tilted back, resting against the wall. There is a half-finished drink in his hand and judging by the gleam in his eyes, it is not the first he has had.

"Lady Laura," Lucan nods to her, the corner of his lips lifting in an almost smile. She commits it to memory. The drink is probably what's softened him. He is devastatingly handsome when he smiles, his icy expression melting a little to show the human that hides beneath the beastly exterior he wears as a shield at all times. Of the half-dozen Knights serving directly under the King, he is the strongest and the most powerful, sent on the most vicious fights and returning as victor every time.

She remembers when she used to dance for him after his victories. The King would allow her to pour drinks for him afterwards. His gazes always lingers a little too long on her neck, though he is ever the gentleman and does not put his hands on her even when he is inebriated. She has never seen him disappear into his chambers with one of the ladies of the court, as warriors are oft to do after long battles. When she was younger, she harbored a crush on him. She still thinks he is the most perfect man she has ever laid eyes on, but it is obvious that her feelings will never be reciprocated.

He is a warrior who's earned his place in the court through battles, whereas she is a lowly dancer who is only there because she is blessed with the agility and grace of her shifted animal. Because their King favors her.

"Here for a drink, Laura?" Jewell asks. He is at the edge of his seat, looking ready to fetch her one the moment she nods.

"Not today, Sir Jewell," she says, settling in a chair between him and Bear. "I have an early day with the Queen tomorrow. I am only here for the company." She pauses and blushes a little. "And perhaps a little dancing?"

Her question is greeted by loud roars of approval all around the table. Her dances is something of a legend among the people. If it isn't known that she is werecat, she would've been accused of being a siren from the easy way she captures the attention of all her audience when she performs.

It has been weeks since she has danced for an audience that is not the Queen, years since she has danced for a large crowd. She is careful to keep practicing, even when it's just for an audience of her knights during her long journeys, but she misses performing for bigger audiences.

If she is completely honest with herself, she has missed dancing for Sir Lucan most of all.

The music pauses as Sir Bear lumbers over to them and instructs them to play something more fitting for the King. She is, after all, the King's favorite dancer.

Sir Lucan looks mildly disapproving when she glances at him. It makes her heart ache painfully, so she looks away. She reminds herself that she has ripped out the feelings for the man and threw them away years ago. Sir Lucan disapproves of her for many reasons. She reminds herself that he does not think her worthy because she is a werecat in a werewolf kingdom and because she is female in a male-dominated profession, because every time she is called to deliver a message to a neighboring kingdom, she requires a bodyguard of five of the king's finest men. She doesn't let his disapproval bring her down.

Soft, bell-like music begins to fill the square and Sir Jewell helps her on top of the table while the rest of her knights hastily remove their drinks from the solid surface.

She courtesies.

"Long live King Duncan," she says, gaze soft, eyes dipped to her feet in reverence to their king. Her soft words are echoed in loud roars all around the square, drinks high in the air, beer splashing on the cooling pavement.

She begins to sing, her voice loud enough to carry and fill the entire street, all the way to the church at the end. She does not begin to move until she is certain that all eyes are on her. She does not need theatrics to gain their attention, merely the smooth movements of her limbs, the gracefulness of her body, the lithe steps and choreographed shifts that mesmerizes the eyes of her audience. There is silence in the air despite the music, an eerie peacefulness that descents on the streets and hangs in the air, as if a storm is coming, though there is no storm at all, just her smooth movements and smooth voice.

She is the most graceful dancer for miles solely because she is the only werecat in their kingdom. Her limbs curve and waves and pauses, each gesture as familiar to her as the words her mother had sung to her while she was still a child.

As she finishes the last plaintive note, the crowd cheers and demands for another. Through the dim light that the torches allow, she feels rather than sees Sir Lucan's attention wholly on her, his gaze dark and heavy. She swallows the lump that seems to have formed in her throat and makes the decision to dance to another song, one she has only practiced in secret before.

She does this dance naked in the sanctity of her room. She doesn't know what possessed her to do the dance here, where everyone can see her, but she takes solace in the fact that her colorful robes are plentiful and heavy. It weights her down and reminds her that her body is not her own. She belongs to the King and will always belong to him, no matter how many times he sends her away, no matter the fact that she is still a virgin and he has not bedded her.

She dances with a passion that has not been in her steps for many dances, stepping on the tabletop so lightly that she is almost floating on them, her back arching and bending, twisting and turning and letting her long sleeves create colorful swirls of cloth around her, all over her. She glides from one end of a table and leaps to another, stepping between dishes and half-filled mugs of beer without touching them. And with each slide of her toes across the solid surface, she can feel the tension and anxiety drain out of her, off her shoulders and down her back, down to the tips of her fingers and her toes, floating into the air and dispersing as though it was never there to begin with.

She dances away the tension that she has brewed in the first song, swaying to the beat of the music, spinning and arching back as if she is dancing with a lover instead of on her own.

She breaks into a spin, a quiet laugh bubbling up when she forgets the lines of her song, but it no longer matters. The musicians are carrying the tune for her now and she is dancing for everyone, for no one, for herself, for Sir Lucan who does not think she is good enough. Her eyes gaze skyward, her fingers reaching to the heavens. It is as though she is merely waiting for the right moment to spread her wings and fly.

She doesn't know how long she dances, but eventually, she tears her eyes away from the stars and looks for Sir Lucan. She almost stumbles at the intensity of his gaze. His eyes are glued to her, as though trying to memorize every step that she is taking.

She flushes and ends the dance by jumping off the table and landing on her feet. The song is not yet finished, but there are others dancing now too, having their fun in the square like nothing else matters.

"You were wonderful, Lady Laura," Bear laughs when she returns to the table. "You should teach the other dancers how to move like that," he says.

She nods and smiles brightly at him. "I am teaching the Queen how to dance tomorrow. I wish our King would let me back in court when I'm not on a mission," she says before she can take the words back. She clamps her mouth together and picks up the first drink she sees on the table, downing it in one breath so she does not speak out of line again.

Sir Fendrel is the one to break the awkward silence that she has brought onto them. "There is no shame in wanting to do what you are good at, Lady Laura." There is pity in his tone that she despises.

She shrugs. "I am a good emissary for my King and I shall be that until I am commanded otherwise." It frustrates her to no end that she is not allowed to be both. She no longer dances for the King. She no longer dances for anyone lest the King allows it. Even the dance tonight is the result of months of begging and pleading, with the King only relenting because the Queen had spoken up for her, because there is a mission she has to go on the next week that puts her in the path of danger and they do not have many knights to spare for this mission.

She does not belong with the knights. She belongs on a stage. She is a quintessential house-cat and would rather stay safe in the castle than away on missions.

She thanks Sir Jewell when he offers her the rest of his drink and downs that too.

The sky is gray and smells faintly of rain. She wonders if she can dance a little longer that night, but she knows that if she continues, she is unlikely to want to stop.