Entwined Destinies (11 page)

I love my two mentors, but they scare me sometimes. Nothing, however, prepared me for the kind of fear I’m experiencing now, this weakness of will, this desire to be exposed before Mason and seen for what I truly am. All my faults. All my glory. All my disguises dropped once and for all.

I want to share my heart in its entirety with this most primal of mates. This wolf. After sixty-nine years, it’s finally happened. I don’t just love the man I’m sleeping with, I’ve fallen in love with him, and it’s crippling.

I had a good run while it lasted.

Mason scoops me out of my lawn chair and carries me up the stairs to the apartment, holding me close to his chest. He’s wearing nothing more a pair of shorts and sneakers.

“Just so you know, I didn’t finishing washing my car because of you. That’s your fault!”

“Blame accepted.”

It is my fault, after all. If he
had
finished washing the car first I would have been insulted.

I hold his face in my hands and kiss him. There’s nothing more I want to feel than his lips on mine. Well, almost nothing. For right now, I just want to hold his gaze, drink in the hunger of his eyes, and return it with my own.

He takes us through the front door and leaves it open. I manage to wrap my legs around him on the way up. He remembers that he left the door open and reaches back for the handle.

“Leave it open,” I tell him. “We can use a breeze in this heat.”

“Are you sure? What if somebody comes up?”

“Then they’ll get an eyeful. Besides, it’s too hot outside. Nobody is moving around this time of day.”

“Except us,” he says.

“Except us.” I kiss him again.

Mason is already sweaty from being in the sun. I’m covered in a sheen as well, but not for the same reason. We fall onto my couch together. I sink into the cushions and pull him on top of me. I reach down between his legs and stroke his already rigged soldier. The fabric of his loose shorts is virtually nonexistent.

“Aren’t you raring to go.”

“Can’t be helped. I’ve been like that for a while, no thanks to your relentless teasing.”

“You must be delusional from the heat. I was just sitting in my chair minding my own business. Now are you going to take those shorts off, or must I do everything…
pump jockey
?”

“I’ll show
you
a pump jockey!”

Mason removes his shorts faster than a lightning bolt. His beautiful manhood stands tall before me, not that he lingers long enough for me appreciate his goods.

Mason unbuttons my cut-off shorts and spins me around onto my knees. There’s no choice in the matter. I’m draped over the side of my couch. This is what Mason wants, so this is what Mason gets.

I push my ass toward him, driving the cut-offs up between my folds. Tightening my backside against the denim. Mason reaches for the waist and struggles to pull them down. I’m not making it easy for him, but that’s on purpose. I want him to fight his way to me.

I use this moment to cast the Preserve the Lust spell in my mind. It’s easy these days. I love him, and so the magic is wordless.

A quicksilver tendril latches on to my body from the pool. I barely even think about it anymore. Mason and I have been more than making up for our time apart ever since he returned. The pool is almost full again, but I want to overcompensate and leave it overflowing.

Mason finally gets the shorts down past my cheeks, but can’t wait any longer. He guides himself up my welcoming breach and pushes his way home. I’ve been more than ready for Mason after watching him at work outside.

I look back at Mason over my shoulder as he lives up to being called a pump jockey.

“No time to warm me up?” I pout, sticking out my lower lip.

“A curvy cock-tease like you? You don’t deserve it,” he says between breaths, smiling down at me. “You’ll take what I’m offering and like it.”

He slaps my ass to make his point.

I inhale sharply, bending my back almost reflexively in a downward arc. Pushing my lips even further up for him to see.

“You’re right. I don’t deserve it. I’m just a wanton slattern who can’t get enough of your prick,” I throw back at him between thrusts, lowering my head submissively to flash a mischievous smile back at him.

“Is that all you’ve got for me?” I pant, reaching back between my legs.

I fondle his sac in one hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Mason stops thrusting and his eyes roll back. He’s enjoying the attention, and engorges inside of me, widening my tunnel.

“Can you even handle what I’m holding back?” he says with a glint in his eyes. “Is it even possible to stuff more cock into such a tiny little cunt?”

Mason’s getting good at this. The dirty talk that has been missing from our bedplay.

“There’s only one way to find out,” I tell him.

Mason digs his fingers into my hips and begins pounding his hips against my ass. Slowly at first, and then with increasing speed. The couch creaks under our weight.

He’s growing heavier, which means the transformation is starting. I can feel the shift traveling up through his arm this time. It will ripple across his shoulders and then down into his chest and torso. The realigning of bone. The spasm of muscle. The profusion of fur.

The slender, muscular version of Mason is replaced with the bulky werewolf version of Mason. It’s like having two men in one.

His face changes the most, elongating into a snout as his jaw pops and snaps into shape. Fangs grow out of teeth and fingernails grow into claws. Mason growls through the transformation as the widening girth of his member forces me apart.

There are no compromises today, no gentle middle roads taken. I must accommodate him, all of him, and I do. Stretching to my limits. I don’t even need the magic for this part anymore, as Mason slams the ferocity of his hunger against my body.

The preternatural strength and unnatural speed will come next, which combine into a primal onslaught of lust unmatched by any
mortal
man.

Today will be the day I make up for my mistake and cause the quicksilver pool to spill over again, filling the reservoir faster than it can be emptied. There will be a cascade of quicksilver surplus and I will have officially made good on my transgression.

That’s when Mason lifts my entire body off the couch, supporting me under the back of my legs. He sits back into the couch, which causes me to lean against his furry chest and extend my legs. The denim shorts fall past my knees, so I kick them off, allowing me to straddle his body but face outward.

Only now does Mason abandon himself to the carnal need I fanned inside him, slaking his desire up inside me over and over again, with a rhythm that is impossible for me to match. I can only be here for him.

I reach up and yoke my arms around his neck and dangle from the strength I find there. My weight is nothing to Mason. I am the warm place he craves, the sanctuary for his sanity. The place where beast and man are embraced as one, driving into with me with muscle and bestial stamina. Love and lust commingled into one.

I close my eyes and draw Mason into my well.

The time for finesse has passed. The orgasm builds inside me like a turbulent sea. Swelling into a wave that chops and churns and grows impossibly tall. Higher than it has a right to be.

I reach the height of that roiling froth of bliss, screaming a prolonged note of pleasure, until I realize that I haven’t let go yet. That I’ve been holding on to the moment of clarity before I do. The peak before the fall. Teetering on the edge of oblivion.

I tip forward on the cresting wave created by Mason’s momentum, and then plummet back to the sea, as if falling through air. The descent takes forever but is over in an instant. I crash upon myself, a torrent of milk and spume. Exquisite.

That’s when the vision comes.

For past two weeks, my orgasms have been the regular kind, brighter colors and embellished details. Minor visions.

Now I am transported again, soaring over the world whether I like it or not. A continent and ocean traversed in the blink of an eye. I know where I’m going this time. The same place as before. Norway. A cave in a mountain.

My perspective is more direct this time, but stops earlier than before, at the mouth of that cave. There’s nothing to see at first but empty blackness, until I hear a rumbling growl. Movement in the dark.

I see the eyes first, glowing red. Then a body padding forward, in no hurry to reach the moonlight. It’s the massive wolf I saw before with Sylvia, emerging from his cave on all fours. He’s only a wolf for a moment until he stands and becomes a man.

The transformation happens in an instant. He becomes the robust stranger. Hair streaked grey, chiseled, handsome face, and eyes aflame with the same red cruelty as his animalistic form. The wolf and stranger are one and the same, confirming my suspicions.

I know what this vision means. I know it my gut. He’s coming and he’s closer than I think. Maybe he’s been here all along.

No sooner has the vision started than it ends.

I’m back in my body, slumped on Mason behind me. He’s a man again, spent and unconscious after being drained by my spell. The couch beneath us has been destroyed, cracked down the middle.

“Don’t you two make quite a pair.”

The closeness of the voice catches me off guard.

I almost jump out of my skin, half expecting to see the man with red eyes, but it’s not a male voice. It’s a woman. Motherly.

“Sorry, dear! I didn’t mean to startle you. Your door was wide open so I just let myself in.”

I clutch at my chest, breathing heavily. Mason doesn’t move at all. Still very much inside me. Candice has returned from her trip.

“I’m so glad it’s you.”

“Were you expecting somebody else?” she asks.

“Kind of, yes. Visions. You know what my orgasms are like.”

“I do seem to have caught you in a state of undress,” she says matter-of-factly.

“You know me,” I say, standing up off Mason. “Doing my due diligence.”

I’m still wearing my top, but look around for the cut-off shorts. Candice spots them first and hands them to me.

My mentors have seen me naked countless times over the years. They’ve even been present while I was having sex with men, especially during any fertility rituals that we seasonally observe. None of us bat an eyelash about it anymore.

“You’ve been a busy girl,” Candice says. “I had to disconnect from the quicksilver pool for a while, just to keep my wits about me.”

Her eyes pass over Mason, out cold on the broken couch.

“Gods, but he is hung like a bull, and that’s not even fully erect anymore.”

“You think that’s impressive? You should see him when he’s half-man, half-wolf.”

“I don’t know how you manage. I’d be screaming like a banshee.”

“Oh, I do. Mason puts me through my paces, but I put him through his too.”

I pull my denim shorts back on and cup the side of his face affectionately, and then turn around to face Candice.

“You do love him, don’t you?” she asks.

I can only smile. She knows I do. I don’t have to say the words.

“He’ll be out for a while,” I tell her instead. “Help me carry him to the bedroom? My boy deserves
some
dignity.”

Candice could easily carry Mason by herself. I realized years ago that she’s crazy strong. I think all mothers must have hidden physical strength inside them, but Candice was a shield maiden once. A long time ago.

I’m the weakling in this coven. Soft and feminine, but flexible. Candice lifts Mason under his arms and I grab his legs. Together we lay him on the bed. The window is already open, but I turn a fan on to keep him cool, kiss his forehead, and close the door.

Candice is waiting for me on the couch, which has already been mended. Not a scratch on it and looking brand new.

I raise an eyebrow at her. She’s quick to defend herself.

“The pool is practically spilling over with all your rambunctious behavior lately. If I didn’t cast something, it would have gone to waste. Oh, and I fixed the table in your kitchen as well. The one you still hadn’t gotten around to replacing.”

“You really like to make me dance when it comes to keeping our secret, don’t you?" I say, half lighthearted and half serious.

“Well, aren’t you a bushel full of sass! Where else did you expect me to sit? There probably isn’t a surface in this apartment that hasn’t supported either one of your backsides.”

I look around quickly while considering her question. “No, there probably isn’t, but he’s going to ask questions. I don’t blame him.”

She ignores my concern and pats the cushion beside her. “Come sit next to me. Let’s get a look at you.”

I do as I’m told, allowing Candice to give me a meaningful once-over. “You’re certainly looking better. Not rested, but better. As for Mason, just tell him I arrived bearing gifts.”

“Tell me about your trip,” I say, changing the subject. “Where did you fly off to, anyway?”

“Romania.”

“That’s telling. Can I assume you were looking for the witch who tattooed Mason?”

Candice nods. “She sounded familiar to me, so I tracked her down. I’m glad I did. She’s been making werewolf charms for a while now. It appears Mason isn’t the only customer she recognized from my description.”

“Who else?” I ask with gathering concern.

“The Romanian witch keeps excellent records. Mason met with her three years ago, but she recognized somebody else I told her about. Somebody who visited her sixteen years ago, which brings me to an important question. Do you know when Mason was turned?”

I hesitate for a second, putting it all together in my head.

“Sixteen years ago…”

“Indeed. Shortly after Mason was attacked by that red-eyed wolf. That’s when Sylvia approached the Romanian witch and paid for a tattoo and werewolf charm of her own.”

No sooner has Candice arrived than she is gone again, off to follow a lead that the Romanian witch told her about. We say our goodbyes for now and she flies away, leaving me to contemplate this new piece of information.