The beast seemed to understand because I felt his hot breath on my right ankle and then his sharp teeth were neatly severing the leather cuff that held it in place. He moved on to my other ankle and then my wrists.
“Thank…you,” I groaned as I half-rolled, half-fell off the breeding bench, finally free from its curving wooden structure. I came to rest on all fours in the cool grass, my breasts and newly swollen belly hanging down as a chilly breeze played over my naked skin.
I shivered and then the beast was there, scooping me up in his long arms and cradling me to his furry chest.
“What…where are you taking me?” I mumbled, half incoherent with exhaustion. “No more breeding—please.”
I felt a feeling of reassurance from the beast. He assured me that there would be no more breeding tonight. Instead, he was taking me someplace safe.
“Someplace…safe?” I murmured.
He told me yes, that he would keep me safe.
“Safe…always safe,” he sent through our link along with a deep feeling of protective possessiveness. And then he was loping through the trees with me in his arms.
To my surprise, the beast brought me back to Nick’s cabin. The door was still standing open, so he just went inside, still carrying me.
“Wait a minute,” I protested sleepily. “Are you sure this is safe? Won’t they come back here to try and get revenge for Chief McCain?”
The beast sent a feeling of negation and then a mental image of several werewolves cowering and crying as they tried to get away from him.
“Oh, right,” I muttered. “I guess they’re scared of you now.” Not that I blamed them. The beast was absolutely terrifying—to everyone but me, that was. Now I felt there was a bond between us—an understanding that hadn’t been there before he bred me.
When he settled on the bed, still holding me, I snuggled up to his warm, hairy chest and sighed contentedly. The beast put his arms around me and I breathed him in—Nick’s scent of campfires and fur and the wild, masculine musk I always loved so much. He smelled like safety and warmth and home.
With that thought uppermost in my mind, I closed my eyes and fell asleep in the beast’s arms.
TWENTY-NINE
I woke up in bed alone the next morning but when I opened my eyes, I saw that Nick was there. Not his beast but Nick—he was back in his human form and he was pacing back and forth in front of the bed, running both hands through his thick golden brown hair. When he looked over and saw me watching him, he went still as a statue, a look of misery and guilt crossing over his strong features.
“Nick?” I asked drowsily, blinking my eyes uncertainly. “You okay?”
He barked out an unhappy laugh.
“Don’t you think I should be asking you that? Especially after what I put you through last night!”
“Huh?” I asked, for a moment completely confused. Then my memories began to return—McCain’s plot…the breeding bench…the hot, unbridled submissive sex I’d had with Nick’s beast under the silver moonlight…
“The beast,” I whispered.
“Yeah, darlin’—my fucking beast.” He sounded bitter.
“He, uh…we got kind of, er, involved last night,” I said hesitantly.
“Involved? Is that the word you want to use for what I did to you?” Nick demanded.
“Nick—” I began, trying to calm him down, but he was way too upset already.
“I remember—all right?” he demanded. “I know what I did—you were tied down for God’s sake—completely helpless and I took advantage of you in my Fur Form!”
“It wasn’t like that!” I protested.
“Oh? Well, what was it like, then? Just look—look at yourself!” he exclaimed.
Striding over to the bed, he pointed to my shoulder, where a fresh bite mark was still apparent. The bloody tooth marks had mostly healed but they had left little white indentations in my light brown skin—almost like a reverse tattoo. I had a feeling they were never going to fade—Nick’s beast had been aiming to let everyone know I was his and his alone.
“It’s not that bad,” I offered, trying to calm Nick down. “It doesn’t hurt—not a bit!”
“That’s not the point! The point is that I bit you!” he exclaimed. “Or my beast did—same thing.”
“Nick, it’s okay,” I said, trying again to calm him—but it only seemed to make him more upset.
“No, it’s not fucking ‘okay!’” he snarled. “I marked you, Kira!” There was bitterness and self-recrimination in his voice. “But I did something even worse—look!”
He whipped the sheet which had been covering me aside and pointed to my lower belly. Looking down, I saw what McCain had called a “breeding bump” giving my lower pelvic area a gentle curve.
“I bred you last night!” Nick exclaimed. “I bred my own little sister and I did it my Fur Form while you were helpless and strapped to the breeding bench!”