Текст книги "Alien god"

Автор книги: Ursa Dox

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“Right here, little bride?” I asked, dark fire burning through me, taking away the shakiness until there was nothing left but possessive, all-consuming hunger. Torrance watched me through heavy-lidded eyes, as if in a fever, in a dream. As if this were not quite real.

I stroked the swollen spot again, and the sound that came out of her throat was one I knew I would not forget until the endless end of my immortal days.

Having been with females of different species with varying anatomy, I’d grown used to watching closely and learning quickly about which places were sensitive, which places brought pleasure. Undoubtedly, this was one of Torrance’s. I touched the nub experimentally, blood heating when I found a circling rhythm that made her eyes fall shut and her head roll back against the headboard. I moved, putting both my knees between her thighs, forcing her legs wider.

The need to be inside her was vicious. Bludgeoning. Like someone had hit me over the head and the only way I’d survive the blow was to rut her. But even in the haze of that feeling, I knew I could not. Not yet. I had no knot, but still, she was small. Some females took time and preparation for my cock, and I had no doubt that Torrance would be one of them.

I slid my fingers away from the swollen place that made Torrance whimper and moan, then pressed down, down, down. Down through hot wetness that made my balls ache and my fangs clench. I thanked my past self for trimming my claws this morning. I normally kept them short and blunt – it was only because I’d been asleep for so long that they’d gotten so sharp. I’d cut and filed them all before leaving for the village. I’d told myself as I did it that I was just getting things back in order. Restoring things to how they’d always been, as if thoughts of accidentally cutting Torrance’s delicate skin had not plagued me into picking up the blade and file.

I had not been picturing this skin, though. This slick, soft, hot skin, shimmering and sucking my middle finger inside. Tight. The word was a hiss inside my skull.

Some cunts were smooth all the way inside. Not Torrance’s. I stroked deeper, exploring every shallow notch and fluttering ruffle of flesh, groaning when I thought of what her softly textured channel would feel like gripping my cock.

I got my finger far enough inside that I could angle my palm against her, grinding the little nub that made her jump and moan. Her eyes flew open as I pressed my palm there, hard, and began to slide my finger in and out.

A new tension entered her body, something different from before. Something lithe and luscious that made her hips flex against me.

My other hand left the safe anchor of the headboard. I buried my fingers in her hair and fisted it until her throat was bared to me just like the rest of her body.

“See this, little bride?” I demanded gutturally, my mouth against that pulsing column. “Feel this? Feel how much you need me now?”

She mewled in response.

Skies of stone, she smelled so good, felt so good, her frantic heartbeat against my lips, her hips rocking helplessly, her cunt swollen and throbbing as I stroked her from the inside.

“Only me, little bride,” I hissed. I drew my tongue along her pulse between the words. “Only this.” My mouth found the impossibly soft slip of skin at her ear, and she shuddered, wet walls tightening around my finger, when I sucked it. I released her ear with a rasping, splintered breath, then gritted out, “I don’t care if you hate me. As long as you want me.”

Blast it all. I’d meant to say, “As long as you want this.”

But I could not deny it. Not now. I could not flee from it the way I’d fled from her tears. I wanted her to want me, even if she detested the wanting, detested me.

I worked my finger faster until Torrance made desperate little sounds. Her hands rose to my shoulders, wide red silk sleeves sliding down past her elbows to pool around her upper arms. She clutched at me, holding tightly, as if she needed to tether herself to something and that something was me. My pleasure at that was instant and foolish. Satisfaction at being the one she sought instead of fought.

“When you wept in my arms, you turned towards me, not away,” I whispered. At some point, I’d stopped gripping her hair. I drew back slightly to gaze down at the flushed face I cradled. “Is it because there was no one else? Or because it was me who held you?”

Torrance’s eyes fluttered open, finding mine in a daze.

“Same... thing,” she panted.

“No,” I said. “There’s a difference.”

She stared at me, lips quivering. Her eyes focused with what looked like great effort, understanding my question but unwilling, or unable, to answer it.

“I... I...”

“Yes?” Tell me it was me you needed. Me and only me. I curled my finger inward, sliding it in quick, demanding strokes until a pulsing tremor began deep inside her.

“I...” Her eyes scrunched shut, severing the connection, cutting herself off from me and from my question. “I’m going to come.”

“Then come,” I commanded, bending once more to her slender throat, her ear. “Come for me, little bride. Come for me, right now, and don’t you dare forget that I’m the one who made you do it.”

Perhaps for the first time, she obeyed me without defiance or complaint. Her arms squeezed around my neck as she writhed wildly. Then, she arched, taut but thrumming. She cried out as her cunt clamped down.

I groaned along with her, not stopping the strokes of my finger, the press of my palm, wanting to urge more pleasure from her. She answered my movements with pulsing constriction, drawing me deeper, deeper, needing more from me. More of me.

Mind shattered, I pulled my hands away with a growl. I ripped my leather trousers down, releasing my hard length. Lust took on a shape and an instinct and a whole heartbeat of its own as I stared down at Torrance. She was slumped back against the pillows and the headboard. Her eyes were still closed but her legs were open, splayed on the red silk and the white fur. Sionnach preserve me, Sionnach save me, she was so wet. And I was so hard. So hard that every sensation in my body congregated in my groin until there was nothing left. No sense, no stone sky god. I was completely gone, my entire life, every thought and desire I’d ever had, replaced by the obliterating need to be inside her.

“Torrance... Torrance...” I did not know when I’d begun moaning her name in that unfamiliar, broken voice. I only knew that I could not stop saying it as I guided my head to her slick entrance. “Torrance...”

Wetness and glorious heat met my skin. Her slippery arousal coated my tip, thrilling me, making my testicles tingle and tighten. I was so close, already on that star-flung edge, one breathless thrust away from explosion.

But then, she said it. The one word I’d told her, begged her, to say before. The word that made me want to howl, made me want to hurl myself across the room. The word that made some twisted part of me want to – curse me, I knew I’d be sick with shame tomorrow, would not recognize the savagery inside myself – pretend I had not heard her.

But I had heard. And I would not be the monster she’d once told me that I was.

My bride said stop.

And just as I’d vowed I would, I stopped.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT Torrance

Wylfrael froze at my word, a living statue, unmoving except for the wild, unsteady tear of his breathing. My own breathing was just as laboured as I stared at him. I couldn’t see his face – he was looking down, down at where his body and mine were nearly joined, his hair falling forward and obscuring his expression. Every muscle in him was clenched – he barely even looked real. More like some illustration from an anatomy book, an example of perfect, honed musculature.

And I wanted him. Wanted him so badly even now my body screamed at me to grind myself upward, to take the tip of his cock, and more, inside me. I wanted him so much that I’d had to tell him to stop. Before I lost my mind. Lost myself.

An aftershock of the orgasm Wylfrael had stroked from my body pulsed in my core, and I let out a soft, unintentional moan. The sound broke the spell over Wylfrael. He moved, though that seemed unintentional, too. His muscles tightened further, jumping under his skin, as a violent shudder ran through his frame. At the same time, his cock jerked, as if trying to get inside me on its own since Wylfrael now refused to move his hips. With a rough, raw sound, Wylfrael ripped himself away from me.

He was out of the bed before I could even blink.

Is he going to disappear again?

My mind felt like it was being torn apart.

I wanted him to go. To leave me. I wanted to never see him again.

And I desperately wanted him to stay.

I scrambled into a seated position after having slumped down among the pillows during this whole ordeal. I tugged my robe closed in a shaky movement, cinching the belt tight, looking down at the fabric as I did it instead of at Wylfrael.

The sound of a door closing made my head whip upwards.

He’s gone. He left after all.

The disappointment came faster and harder than the relief, and that fucking terrified me. But when the sound of running water registered, I realized that he was in the adjoining bathroom, and it was the bathroom door he’d closed, not the main door.

My cheeks heated, my pussy giving a weak pulse, at the thought of him jerking off in there.

This is wrong. This is so fucked up. Wylfrael was not someone I was supposed to fantasize about making himself come, not someone I was supposed to almost let fuck me. He was my captor. My enemy turned reluctant ally. The man I hated and...

My husband.

Not yet! We’re not married yet!

My almost-husband didn’t take long in there. I pursed my lips and averted my gaze when he emerged, suddenly very interested in the little fluffy tufts of fur on the bedspread. I pinched and pulled at the soft fur with my fingers. The sound of running water started up again, and when I finally got the courage to look up at Wylfrael, I found him lounging in the bath as it filled. The bath in here was much larger and deeper than the one in my room had been, about the size of an inground pool, and it had benches built into it along the sides. Wylfrael was seated on one of those benches now, his arms flung out along the floor behind him, his head tipped back, expression brooding.

He’s pissed.

I could see it in the hard lines of his jaw. The cold fury of his gaze as he stared at the tile on the opposite side of the bath.

“You’re not allowed to be mad at me for this,” I said. My own voice in the air surprised me. The thought had become words before it had even fully formed in my head. “You’re not allowed to be angry with me for stopping things.”

Wylfrael didn’t look at me.

“I am not accustomed to being told what I am allowed or not allowed to do in my own castle.”

“Yeah, well, you’re about to get married, so you should probably get accustomed to that,” I snapped. My hands curled into fists around the fur bedspread.

A joyless smirk touched his lips.

It was gone in an instant, his mouth turning grim as he said softly, “I am not angry with you for that.” He tipped his head further back until it rested on the crystal floor. He said it up to the ceiling, so quietly I almost didn’t hear. “Never angry with you for that.”

Oh.

“Then why are you so mad over there?”

I was being stupid. Pushing too hard, digging for something that didn’t even matter. Who cared why Wylfrael was pissed? That seemed to be a natural state of being for the moody, fox-eared alien.

The tub was filling quickly, water reaching his sculpted, starry chest. Steam billowed from the surface, creating a misting veil. Between the steam and the angle of his tipped-back head, I couldn’t see his face at all as he muttered, “Because you love snow.”

Because I love snow?

Jesus, he was going even crazier than I was. At least my thoughts mostly made sense and I wasn’t getting mad at people for an innocuous affection for a goddamn weather phenomenon.

“I don’t even know what to say to that,” I said, pressing my fingertips to my eye sockets. I was so, so tired. I’d been exhausted and ready for bed hours ago, and a lot had happened since then.

That’s putting it mildly.

I opened my eyes. Wylfrael didn’t seem like he was moving from the bath anytime soon. He remained in his languorous position, arms stretched out, head tipped back, a glowing silhouette in the steam. Even now, even bone-tired and needing distance from Wylfrael, I couldn’t ignore a nearly magnetic pull towards him. I wanted to slide out of the bed, pad over to the water, and slip into it. I wanted to find him in the steam, touch him again. I wanted to understand him, understand myself, and why this had even happened.

I wanted to pretend it had never happened at all.

I refused the pull towards him, hunkering down in the bed, yanking fur blankets over myself like armour. I expected the bed to smell like Wylfrael – like frost and leather – but it didn’t, and once again, disappointment outweighed the relief.

I tried to stay awake.

But, the same way I tried not to think about Wylfrael, I failed.

WHEN I WOKE UP TO BRIGHT light filtering in through silver crystal walls, the first thing I saw was Wylfrael in profile, seated in a crystal chair. He was fully dressed in his usual all-leather ensemble, his hair freshly combed and tied back by a scrap of blue silk. He looked clean and cold and fucking perfect, no trace of last night left on him.

I couldn’t say the same for myself. As I sat up groggily, lingering dampness between my legs reminded me all too well of what had happened. I hastily finger-combed my hair, feeling knots, and vividly remembered throwing my head back in pleasure, my hair tangling against the pillows as I came on Wylfrael’s hand.

The memory was so fresh that I stifled a hot gasp. Wylfrael rose instantly from where he’d been sitting, stalking towards me and stopping at the side of the bed. I resisted the urge to scramble backward and away from him just as I resisted the urge to get nearer to him.

He is like a black fucking hole. If I get too close, I’ll disappear.

“You’re awake. Good.”

“Good morning to you too,” I said, voice croaky.

He ignored my greeting.

“I have business to attend to in the nearest villages. I must reacquaint myself with the Sionnachans.”

“Reacquaint yourself?” It was too early for this. Even though, judging by the strength of the light coming in here, it probably wasn’t early at all.

“Yes,” Wylfrael said. “Every Sionnachan I knew before is dead. I must meet their descendants. Reestablish relations.”

I felt my brow furrow as I took this in. Why had I not realized that before? Wylfrael had been gone for generations, recovering from some battle. He’d only just returned...

And everyone he’d known in this entire world was gone.

God, I knew all too well what that was like.

“I’m sorry.”

Wylfrael inhaled sharply, looking taken aback by my words. He shut down the expression quickly, settling his features into an appearance of cool neutrality.

“What for?”

He genuinely seemed not to know. I wondered if he thought I was trying to apologize for something else, for something I’d done.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said.

Loss. It made me think of the conversation we’d had after Maerwynne had left. When Wylfrael had looked agonized and told me that what he’d lost was worth more than any world. I’d wanted to say sorry then, too. Instead, I’d just told him that maybe he’d deserved it.

This must have been what he was talking about. He hadn’t lost wealth or status or power, but people. Though he was controlled now, I remembered the look of deep pain on his face that day. He cares about the Sionnachans. Deeply.

And in this moment, I cared about him. Enough to feel sad for his loss, anyway. I’d already decided, holding the knife in Wylfrael’s kitchen, that I wouldn’t let him strip my humanity away. And in that humanity, compassion for him grew. It didn’t take away my anger or confusion, but it was there all the same.

“It does not make sense to apologize for a death you did not cause,” Wylfrael said.

“It’s what we say where I’m from,” I said, shrugging. “What do stone sky gods say when someone dies?”

“Nothing, usually.”

“OK then... What about the Sionnachans?”

Wylfrael’s mouth twisted, and I thought he wouldn’t answer, but he did.

“‘They rest with Nacha now. And I will help you rest until you meet them.’”

“Then, I’m sorry for your loss. But they rest with Nacha now. And I will help you rest until you meet them.”

“You should not make promises you don’t intend to keep,” he admonished, deadly quiet. “That saying means that you will take care of the other person in their grief. That you’ll take on their burdens as your own.”

I shrugged again, not willing to confirm the sentiment of the expression but not exactly taking it back, either.

“I mean, I am supposed to be your bride, aren’t I?” I asked. “Anyway, I’m just saying that I know what it’s like to lose everyone you’ve ever loved.”

His gaze searched my face. His elbow flexed, his hand twitching forward, as if to touch me.

But he didn’t.

He closed himself off with a nonchalant flick of his wings.

“Well, I do not need any rest. And I do not plan on meeting Nacha or anyone else anytime soon.”

That was an understatement, considering that he was immortal.

Well, lucky you, then. You’ll never die like the rest of us.

But there was no real ire in the thought. In fact, I thought that being alive forever was even worse than dying. Endlessly living while those you cared about disappeared around you. Collecting the deaths of the ones you loved like stitches on a cloak, each one adding just a little more weight to your steps, your shoulders, your heart.

It probably made me a fool, and maybe he didn’t deserve it, but now I felt even sorrier for him.

“What will you do when I die?”

My question cracked his illusion of control. Astonishment wracked his features, and his wings snapped wildly, sending a cracking boom, like thunder, through the air.

“What?” he asked, as if he hadn’t understood my question.

I stared at him steadily and repeated the question slowly, calmly.

“What will you do when I die?”

His brows crashed downward in confused consternation, as if I’d brought up some bizarre scenario that made no sense.

“I’m mortal,” I reminded him. “I’ll die eventually.”

“How long does your kind live?” The question made the same sound his wings had a moment ago – a vicious snap.

“Barring any illnesses or accidents, I probably have another fifty or sixty years. Maybe seventy, but that’s pushing it. Oh, and a year is three hundred sixty-five days.”

Sionnachan days were very similar in length to Earth ones, so I knew he’d be able to do the math.

He gave me a stricken look, storms in his eyes.

“That’s all?”

It came out like an accusation, like he was angry with me for being mortal.

“What do you mean, ‘that’s all’? That’s an entire human lifetime!”

“It’s barely half a heartbeat!” he burst out.

“Well,” I spat back, “I’d rather live half a heartbeat and make it count than have a heart that beats forever even though it’s empty.”

Wylfrael jerked his head to the side, eyes boring into the fire. When he looked my way again, he was composed.

“My business in the neighbouring villages will take a few days. I will return every night but might be late. If I am not back by the time the evening meal is served, go ahead and eat without me.”

“Alright. I will,” I said.

He lingered, as if he might say something else, but he didn’t.

And neither did I.

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CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE Torrance

What Wylfrael said would take a few days stretched into four, then five. On the morning of the sixth day, I wondered if this was just our new normal. If this was how our marriage was going to be, what the Sionnachans thought of it be damned. As promised, Wylfrael did return every night, but always long after I’d gone to bed, pretending to sleep. I could never fall asleep without him there, but instead lay there in the dark, impatient and annoyed, feigning slumber when he inevitably showed up, stalking into the fire-lit darkness.

I was too proud to sit up and talk to him when he returned at night, not willing to show him that I’d stayed up for him even though I hadn’t really wanted to. Every night, I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. And every night, without fail, sleep didn’t come to me until after Wylfrael did. As far as I could tell, he never slept in the bed, but spent the nights upright in a crystal chair.

In the mornings, he was gone before I woke.

I spent a lot of my days with Aiko. She took her wedding planning duties seriously, just as seriously as she took every aspect of business in this castle. When she wasn’t asking about human customs and clothing and vows, she was urging me into my wedding gown for yet another fitting. I decided early on to just tell Aiko what I wanted in the dress. It was obvious now I’d never get to don a real wedding dress at a real human wedding, so I might as well make this one into what I’d always pictured myself wearing. As Aiko worked diligently on the design, I was thankful for the fact that there didn’t seem to be anything approximating mirrors here. I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing my own reflection, outfitted in the dress of my dreams, as I prepared to wed a monster from a nightmare.

But... he didn’t feel like a nightmare anymore. And that was maybe the hardest part. I’d long since stopped fearing him, and I had to admit that I didn’t even hate him now. If I hated him, I wouldn’t be lying awake, waiting for him to return so I could fucking go to sleep every night. If I hated him, I wouldn’t have felt so sad for his losses.

And if I hated him, I sure as hell wouldn’t be wondering what he’d wear to our fake wedding. What he’d think of the dress. Of me.

What I felt for Wylfrael was all chaos and confusion. He made me want to understand him. He made me want to scream. Sometimes, at night, I woke up halfway and was sure that he stood near, bending over the bed and watching me, a silent sentinel. I could never quite fully awaken in those moments. Could never catch him, never truly see him. Which wasn’t any different from my waking hours, to be honest. My groom would never die, but he already felt like a ghost.

I kept myself busy during the days while Wylfrael was gone. Even though she was excited about it, Aiko couldn’t spend all her time with me wedding planning. She had chores to do, and though it had taken some effort on my part to wear her down, she finally agreed to let me help. I scrubbed the crystal floors, assisted in preparing the meals, and dusted the library with Ashken. I even helped Shoshen shovel. He seemed very enthusiastic about my assistance and didn’t require any of the cajoling that his sister did. I was thankful for that. Shovelling the snow felt good. Familiar. Something I’d done countless times back on Earth. I helped him feed the animals in the barn too, big shaggy white bovine creatures called sotasha. The first time I stepped foot in there, I started laughing in giddy disbelief, discovering that what Wylfrael had told me about animals was true. Their brays and moos took shape inside my head, usually some form of the word “food” combined with the word for “more.”

And it wasn’t just the sotasha. There was also Brekken, a massive Sionnachan hunting dog. At least, the word translated to dog inside my ear, but he looked more like a gigantic fairy tale wolf, huge and silver-furred, his shoulders level with mine, with eyes like embers and two massive curving horns spiralling out of his great head. When he’d first seen me outside with Shoshen, he’d loped over and started circling us, barking and yipping madly. I’d been terrified until words had started filtering into my consciousness.

“New two-legs. Hello, two-legs. Pretty, pretty, pretty. Pretty two-legs play? Two-legs hunt? Brekken happy. Brekken hungry. Hello, two-legs. Two-legs tiny. Two-legs cub. Brekken love two-legs cub. Love two-legs. Love food. Treat? Treat? Play, two-legs, play?”

“I think he likes you,” Shoshen called over, laughing in the hyena-esque way I’d gotten used to. It hadn’t taken long – he laughed a lot.

Brekken padded along in his jaunty circle, barking and tossing his head.

“Yes! Brekken love new two-legs. Love Shoshen. Love Aiko. Love Ashken. Ashken three-legs! Brekken four-legs! Brekken love legs. Love run. Love play. Love food. Treat, two-legs?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have a treat for you,” I said, shaking my head, amazed by this entire interaction. When Brekken stopped walking and stared at me blankly, then repeated his question about treats, I remembered he couldn’t understand me. He only understood Sionnachan words and commands.

“No treats right now, Brekken. And her name is Torrance,” Shoshen said before turning to me. “I can’t tell you how strange it is to understand the animals now. I’ve known Brekken my whole life, and now I can hear what he’s actually saying to me.”

“It’s incredible, isn’t it?” I breathed.

“It is.” He grimaced. “Though, it gets a little dark when he’s going in for the kill on a hunt. I try to tune those parts out.”

Brekken resumed his mad laps around us.

“Hunt? Hunt? Two leg Torrance hunt? Torrance tiny cub. Torrance cub learn hunt. Brekken show. Brekken big dog, big hunt. Brekken show tiny Torrance cub. Brekken teach. Brekken get treat.”

“She’s not going to go hunting with you, you great mad lout,” Shoshen chuckled, leaning against his shovel.

“Torrance cub. Cub learn,” Brekken replied obstinately. “Learn hunt. Learn play. Learn cover shit. No mess no scent no trail. Brekken teach tiny two-legs.”

I burst out laughing.

“OK. How about play? That one I can handle,” I said. I tossed down my shovel, looking around for something to play fetch with, but there weren’t exactly sticks just lying around in a snowy forest of crystal cone trees. Instead, I settled on bending down and heaping snow into my hands. I formed it into a ball, then chucked it as hard as I could.

Brekken went absolutely ballistic, taking off on a tear after a snowball that was just a little too fluffy and that had actually entirely disintegrated in the air.

He hadn’t noticed my snowball’s demise, though, and was digging and running and barking, his tail going crazy. “Where ball? Where ball? Where ball where ball where ball where ball where ball?”

It became a routine. I’d help Aiko with chores and wedding things in the morning, then after lunch, I’d usually venture out with Shoshen, doing outdoor chores and throwing snowball after snowball for Brekken. Like this, with these kind people and this batshit-crazy, loveable, horned wolf of a dog, it almost felt like I could build some sort of life here.

At least, until Wylfrael finally came back.

It was the first time I’d seen him during daylight hours in ten days. I didn’t even know he was there. Not at first. I’d been lobbing snowballs for Brekken while Shoshen did some chores inside the barn when suddenly Brekken started growling. The growls turned to barks, and he sprinted to me, getting behind my back to face something.

That something was Wylfrael.

I hadn’t seen where he’d come from – presumably the sky, having landed soundlessly. He certainly hadn’t been inside the castle this morning. Brekken barked again, his hackles rising at Wylfrael’s presence.

“Get back big wing two-legs!”

Wylfrael’s silver-white brows rose slightly.

“Brekken,” I said, frantically petting him, worried he’d do something that would make Wylfrael retaliate, forgetting he couldn’t understand a fucking word of English. “It’s alright. That’s Wylfrael.”

“The master of this castle,” Wylfrael added. He obviously spoke in Sionnachan, because Brekken understood and replied.

“No,” barked Brekken. “Aiko Ashken Shoshen master. Big wing two-legs stranger. Torrance cub. Brekken protect cub. Big wing two-legs want tiny Torrance. Brekken smell want. Brekken smell hunger. This big wing two-legs hunter. Hunt Torrance. Eat Torrance. Brekken kill.”

“She’s not a cub, she’s my mate,” Wylfrael called coolly. If he was annoyed by Brekken’s barking, he didn’t show it.

“No,” Brekken growled. “No mate.”

Panic made my stomach drop. Jesus Christ, we couldn’t even convince a dog that this was real? I whipped my head, looking to see if Shoshen was around to hear Brekken. The barn wasn’t far away, but luckily, it looked like he was still inside it.

“No no no,” Brekken continued, gnashing his deadly teeth, claws sinking into snow. “No mate. No soft no protect no warm. No nice smell. All hunger all anger all want want want. Want like blood. Brekken smell. Brekken hunter. Brekken know hunter smell.”

Even though Shoshen wasn’t here to witness this, the panic was still inside and growing. Growing because I really was starting to think that Wylfrael would do something awful to shut Brekken up, and fast.

“It’s OK, Brekken!” I said again. I tried to step around his hulking form so that I could go to Wylfrael’s side and show the loyal alien hound this was all alright. But Brekken wasn’t having any of it. As soon as I took a step, he turned on me, fangs flashing, barking madly, “No no no cub stay cub no!”

I didn’t know if Wylfrael even heard the words or if he only saw the teeth so close to my outstretched hand. But he was there in an instant, getting between Brekken and me. He grasped the fur at the back of Brekken’s neck, holding him back by the scruff.

“Don’t hurt him, Wylfrael!” I cried, tugging at Wylfrael’s arms to no avail. “Please! Please!”

Wylfrael ignored me. He looked straight into Brekken’s burning eyes, showing not an ounce of fear at the madly snarling and frothing fangs a breath away from his nose.

“Don’t you ever, ever,” Wylfrael said, his voice barely above a silken whisper, “get your teeth that close to my bride’s skin again.”

Brekken stopped fighting, stopped snapping his jaws. His eyes got big and very focused. The two of them stared at each other in silence for a long, heart-pounding moment.

Finally, Brekken made a gruff whining sound.