Seduced By The Rogue Alpha (BBW Shifter Romance) (4 page)

“He can end all of this. He‘s the leader of the Lycan pack and he‘s the one responsible for this continuation of bloodshed. If I can talk to him maybe I can convince him. This can‘t wait.” And with that, Dirk stole away into the darkness, resolute to stop the violence if only for Annabel.

  It had been four weeks since Dirk had left to the wild Wood. He had dearly missed the sounds of the birds, the noise of crickets and the feeling of dirt under his paws. The familiarity had brought a rush of nostalgia to his mind, such that he had never felt before. Smelling the signs writ in scent, he searched around for his pack. The passion of his conviction accompanied by the sight of the moon had allowed him to shed his clothes and change to his bestial form. He dared not approach Shank otherwise. He had hoped that finally, he would be accepted, with the conflict between the Lycan’s and the Homin escalating. Finally, they would allow him some respect, but most of all, he hoped to convince Shank to cease his campaign against the village.

  After hours of tracking, Dirk finally caught up to the pack in a deep thicket. As he approached, he noted the sentry’s above him, staring down at him carefully. Dirk stopped to smell the thick air. It was heavy and pungent as if foreshadowing the gravity of the situation. As he passed through a line of bushes, he saw circles of other wolves and at the center, the greatest of them all, Shank. Strangely he seemed even bigger than last time Dirk had seen him.

“Welcome back,” Shank said in his usual sharp voice. “Did you enjoy your time with the Homin girl?”

“How did you know?” Dirk stepped back, surprised.

“We’ve been keeping an eye on you since after you were separated. I’m surprised you didn’t rip her and the older one apart, as soon as you had the chance. I’m even more surprised you stayed as long as you did.”

“I was wounded and-”

“You mean weakened!” Shank snapped. He trotted forward and circled Dirk as he continued to speak. “Did you enjoy your new family? Did you enjoy being their pet?”

“No, it wasn’t like that.”

“Then what was it like? Why did you stay while your kind were being harassed and attack by the Homin savages? Why come back at all? We all know you can‘t survive without us. No one wolf can endure without the strength of the rest of the pack. So I want to know why come back to be rejected by us?”

“Because they aren’t all like that! We don’t have to live in fear of them and they don’t have to dread us. We can find a way to live in peace.”

“Not possible,” Shank violently snorted. “Those people want us dead. They want to see the forest burn and the rivers boiled.”

“But they think the same of us. We
can
make this work out,” Dirk pleaded.

“Enough of this,” Shank roared. “You have a choice, pup. You can either join us in our campaign against those barbarians or you can stay out of the way and whimper here. But we shall not make peace with those monsters.”

A feeling of dread and defeat rose inside Dirk. The doubt he felt earlier over returning and attempting to reason with Shank had become the forefront in his mind.

“Well? What’s you choice, pup?” Shank barked. The dread Dirk felt was now replaced with anger. Anger at Shank’s narrow mindedness, but that was tempered by concern. Concern for what might happen if the pack were to attack Annabel’s farm. And upon considering the possibility of his pack destroying Annabel’s farm and harming her, a great conviction built in his mind. That conviction manifested itself as a great source of strength in Dirk’s modest muscles. Using that mighty courage, he lunged at Shank toppling him over into a heap. Bearing down over the greater wolf, Dirk howled,

“I choose her!”

  The rest of the other Lycan’s stood back aghast. Not in recent memory had anyone even dared strike Shank. He had been their greatest pack leader and not without reason. He was the largest wolf to have been born and had spent a lifetime destroying men and other skin changers alike. Looking around at the shocked crowd Dirk took the opportunity given to him and fled from the thicket. As he had cleared it, he heard Shank shuffling to his feet and barking commands to pursue Dirk and utterly destroy the village.

  For an hour, Dirk sprinted without rest through the wild Wood. The only thing that kept him from collapsing was a sole thought running through his head ‘get her out, get her out, get her out’. Eventually he broke the edge of the forest to see the open fields of grass and at the periphery, Annabel’s small farm. With the last of his strength he clumsily ran into the barn were Annabel had stayed patiently waiting. Exhausted, Dirk collapsed as his body metamorphosed back into his human shape.

              “Are you okay? What happened?” Annabel exclaimed, as she rushed to his side distraught and worried.

“We have to go,” he mumbled while catching his breath. “We have to go now.”

Annabel nodded and helped him get to his feet. The pair hastily gathered supplies and a few extra clothes, then, rushed from the farm. As they were leaving, a ruckus broke the still of the night. It motivated them to jog even faster from the farm, through the field and on to the south as far as south went. As they ascended a hill marking the edge of the Homin village, the couple looked back to the horrid sounds that came from down below. Lycan’s were barking, men were screaming and smoke covered the sky. What looked like small sparks in the distance grew into raging fires, which began to consume everything. Now, the pair only had each other.

III “Climax”

Numerous students of arcane mysteries over time have often asked what manner of being survives a journey into the hidden South. Could it be the Homin, the true men, beings of thought and inquiry? Or perchance the Miun, the graceful catkind, gifted with their conviction to pursue righteousness? Maybe, instead the Lycans, the proud wolfkind, with their great physical might and constitutions? But these contentions are all wrong. Any being of mind can enter the enigmatic Mist of the South so long as they possess sufficient strength of character. Such quality is not based on the opinions of ones peers but of their own selves. The individual being must obstinate and unyielding in their affirmation of their own self-esteem. For, if they are not, they will be forever consumed by internal darkness and doubt.

                                                        -excerpt from the Darenkh Chronicles, by Vedakh Carn

  Annabel and Dirk fled for weeks; every day, they awoke looking for the rising sun and immediately ventured to the right of it. The only place they could go was the legendary lost South. The day they left the village, the couple had walked for miles and could still see the black smoke from the burning buildings and trees of the Wood.

  The two survived by Dirk, who would wander off to hunt game at night and Annabel, who would gather wild kernels, berries and herbs during the day. They felt that their survival was based only on each other, which was immensely gratifying. Contrary to what others had insisted, they both were capable of taking care of themselves, so long as they had one another thing, they needed nothing else.

  After two months of travel, the terrain began to change. The air became heavy with fog but oddly, didn’t feel as heavy as it should, in fact, it was almost intoxicating. The rumors the two of them had heard about the enchanting, yet still foreboding, nature of the lost South were so far true. Within a few days, they knew they would arrive at their destination soon.

  After two and a half months since their flight, Annabel and Dirk had arrived in a place free from conflict. The Mist of the lost South appeared to be an ocean in gaseous form as it moved about the land. It rolled around the trees, rocks and little hills in the valley below in a pulsating manner like waves gently lapping a beach. Its bizarre motion seemed to suggest, as the ancient text espoused, the Mist was itself a living,
breathing
entity, not just an untamed source of magic.

  Finally, they had found a place to be together, alone and unfettered from expressing themselves. The pair walked bravely hand-in-hand, occasionally affectionately rubbing their shoulders against each other, striding into the Mystic fog that lay before them. Annabel began to massage Dirks hand in hers, in the anticipation of the two of them being hidden from the rest of the world, belonging only to each other and no one else.

  As they breached the Mist, both were filled with a euphoric sense of calm and comfort, but, paradoxically, also a rush of excitement and passion.

“If we’re not ready, then we may be lost in here forever, trapped in a prison of uncertainty,” cautioned Dirk. “Do you think we have the tenacity of spirit to be accepted into the Source? What if one of us lacks the strength?”

“Then we’ll both have to act as each other’s source of strength,” Annabel replied. And so, the two descended into the mysterious vapor. Traces of doubt lingered in their minds, but quickly vanished as the two approached the brink. Annabel, suddenly, knew who she was, what she was, and what she wanted to be: devoted to Dirk forever. And she knew he wanted the same, as well. Together, the two entered the Mist with assurance that the source of all minds would take them. Upon penetrating the ethereal dew, the couple was greeted by a display of changing colors in the distance. A series of dark blues and violet thrashed about accompanied by the sound of rolling thunder, unperturbed, both stood accepting the test of the otherworldly, all-surrounding specter. The colors grew darker as if to test their courage but neither Annabel nor Dirk moved; neither were unsettled or felt fear. And in response, the hues in the Mist changed to those more akin to the vibrancy of life. Streaks of green accented by magenta shone. They were reminiscent of forests leaves illuminated by the ascending sun during dawn. After that, opaque and all forms of blue mixed together with the vividness of moon rays shining on the great azure sea. The sounds now became blissful and inviting, much like choruses of birds on a summer’s morning, which Annabel and Dirk were so accustomed to happily listening to. They had been accepted.

  After wandering deeper into the vapor, Annabel and Dirk found truth to the rumors about the southern Mist. It truly did reveal their proper appearance. With a whirl of wind and flash of distant rays, they saw fleeting reflections of themselves in the haze. Depictions of how they knew how they should properly see themselves, not as failed specimens of their respective races but wholly perfect in appearance. Surrounded by a canopy of trees, a verdant carpet below and enchanted reflections of herself and partner, Annabel couldn’t imagine a more ideal place to make love.

  But could they? Had Dirk learned control? She could feel his pulse starting to accelerate. They both breathed deeply and Annabel reached up to plant a kiss on Dirk’s cheek, which, with some hesitation, he returned and then again and again. The both of them breathed deeply, smiling, knowing full well the good news. Annabel had his trust and Dirk was now master of his faculties. They were both ready. Sparks began to flit about them quietly popping and fading in the deep reaches of the haze.

  Annabel’s breath grew hot as her neck, bosom, and loins became damp and ruddy. She turned to Dirk to look into his captivating gaze. Not needing to say it aloud, the message was clear, “take me here and now”.

  Immediately, Dirk acted on the visual command. His brawny hands grabbed her by the shoulders as his body fiercely pushed into hers. With great fervor he shoved his lips against hers. A small burst of excitement erupted in Annabel‘s center. It was all finally happening! He moved his tongue around hers, nibbled at her lip, and rubbed their noses together. Once again she could intimately smell his mannish musk; she could taste his salty-sweet exterior, and feel every bit of his sinewy frame. Just like her, his hands moved up and down her body everywhere; rubbing her tender breasts, her full buttocks, the small of her back.

  As if in agreement, the Mist around them began to slowly swirl, producing at first, soft and chaotic dissonance, which evolved into a stirring melody, just on the edge of human hearing. The actions and enthusiasm of Annabel and Dirk emanated from their bodies, resounding in the Mist until it began to focus the New Harmony. The air built as it took the auditory shape of an overture performed by a master orchestra, foreshadowing the awesome crescendo to come.

  The roused valley was now complemented with the sounds of tearing cloth as Dirk ripped Annabel’s dress from her flushed body. Rather than feeling ashamed, she finally felt liberated by the exposure. There was no shame here. That was a myth, a lie, her mother and neighbors had claimed. Here she was not an undesirable pudgy wallflower but a grand prize for him. Likewise, here he was not a contemptible weak knave, but the hero that she had been searching for,

  The Mist showed images of themselves floating in the air. It was a wonderful spectacle. With great contentment, Annabel watched voyeuristically as the enchanted reflections exhibited her full and buxom body pressed against Dirk’s taut, golden-brown one. She breathed deeply as the Mist mirrored the sight of Dirk laying her down onto soft moss and stepping back only to pull the loose shirt and pants off himself. His face had been hard and stoic, with bits of perspiration around his forehead. His rippling body looked better than it ever had, with his chest expanding and contracting rapidly, obviously in response to the moment’s heat. And finally, Annabel laid eyes on his impressive, thick and engorged manhood.