The Wolf Ring

The Wolf Ring

By

Meg Harris

©
copyright
2010, Meg Harris
Cover design by Meg Harris, © copyright 2010

All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction
.
Names, character, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1

"I want you to have this, Faelan."

Faelan Murphy stared at the ring her boyfriend held in his big hand. It was an ornate silver filigree band, set with a small, golden topaz.

"Wow," she said, taking it from his hand and turning it over reverently. "That's beautiful, Conner. But it looks like an antique."

"It is." He shuffled his feet, looking a bit nervous. She knew that Conner Leavitt hated making himself vulnerable. He wasn’t the kind of guy who liked to put his feelings on display, and never had been. He was sweet, but not especially romantic.

The two of them stood together in a quiet spot near the pond at the center of the local park, and clouds hung low and ominous in the sky. A few snow flurries spun through the air, and a cold breeze ruffled his too-long hair, lifting his dark bangs out of his eyes. He went on in an awkward rush of words. "I saw it, and… well, I don’t know why, but it made me think of you. Maybe it’s the stone. It’s the same color as your eyes."

She looked up at him. They’d been dating for six months now, and although they’d been the best six months of her life, she hadn’t expected a ring yet. "It’s beautiful. But is it... I didn’t think we were quite ready for…"

She tactfully trailed off, refraining from asking the obvious question. He blushed, and stammered a little.

“It’s not, you know, an engagement ring. It’s just… well, like I
said,
I saw it and I thought of you.”

Disappointment and relief battled inside her. He was right. They weren’t ready, not yet. But even so... She shoved the disappointment aside, and smiled up at him, accepting the gift for what it was. “It’s lovely, Conner. Thank you.”

He seemed relieved by her pleased smile. She took the ring from his hand and held it up, admiring the soft sheen of silver, and the way the stone glimmered, even on a cloudy day.

“It’s supposed to be part of the town’s history,” he said. “The jeweler couldn’t give me details, but he said it had something to do with why this place is called
Lupine
Rapids."

She frowned slightly, considering the ring. “I don’t think lupines come in this color. And they’re pretty flowers, but they don’t grow around here, anyway.”

Conner shrugged a big shoulder. “He was probably just trying to get me to buy it.”

“Maybe.” She felt her smile widen. “I’m glad he succeeded. I love it, Conner.”

“I’m glad,” he said softly. “And one of these days, I’ll get you a different ring. You’re the right woman for me, Faelan. The only woman for me.” He spoke very softly, staring at her with earnest blue eyes. A shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds and lit him from behind like a halo, accentuating the beautiful, strong lines of his face. "I've known that for a while now. The ring is kind of a promise—a promise that we’ll always be together."

Her eyes stung with sudden tears. She swallowed hard against the lump in her throat, and let him slide the ring onto her right hand.

It fit as if it had been made for her.

*****

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine." Faelan's voice sounded strained, almost angry. "Why do you keep asking me that?"

"Uh..." Seated at his desk in his home office, where he was working on designing a website for a local business, Conner pulled the phone away from his ear for a second and stared at it with bafflement, then put it back. "I've only asked twice, Faelan. You just seem, I don't know, kind of..."
Bitchy
. "Grumpy."

"I'm fine. I'm just busy." He heard her make a growling sound. "Honestly, Conner, do you have to be so damn
needy
all the time?"

He winced. Faelan had a sharp tongue, but it didn't usually cut that deep. "I just called to see if you wanted to have dinner."

Since they had dinner together at least four times a week, this wasn’t an unprecedented suggestion by any means. But she growled again.

"I don't. Leave me alone."

The phone went dead, and he put it down on the desk, turned away from the computer, and stretched his long, denim-clad legs out, propping them on his pine coffee table. He stared out the window at the crimson sunset, feeling a little bewildered. Faelan wasn't usually that short with him, and she was generally quite happy to have dinner with him. Their brief conversation had left him perplexed, and not a little hurt.

It was a cold winter evening, and he'd hoped for a little warmth and affection.

And instead it looked like he was going to stay cold.

*****

She
itched
.

After she hung up on Conner and threw the phone across the room, Faelan sat huddled on the bed in her apartment, scratching irritably at her skin. Ever since she'd put that damn ring on, she'd been itching like crazy. At first the itching had been confined to her right hand, but now it was starting to spread everywhere.

And it wasn't a normal itch, like she got from poison ivy or bug bites. It was a weird tingling sensation that she couldn't begin to describe. All she knew was
,
it was bothering the hell out of her. It made her
want
to get up and run at top speed around the room until she somehow outdistanced it.

She grumbled to herself.
Damn Conner
, she thought with annoyance, not for the first time. Other guys gave their girlfriends nice normal diamond rings in gold or platinum settings. But Conner being Conner, he just had to give her something unusual.

And it just figured that she was apparently allergic to silver.

Not a good omen, really. She was allergic to the first ring he’d ever given her. Maybe that was fate’s way of letting her know they weren’t meant to be together after all.

She shrugged that thought aside, because she just couldn't believe that. She was way too much in love with Conner to believe it. Conner was far and away the best thing that had ever happened to her.

But even so, she didn't have much choice but to remove the damn thing. The itching, tingling sensation ran over her skin in ever-increasing waves, making her squirm uncomfortably, making her want to whimper. It was slowly morphing from a sensation of itchiness to one of...

She wiggled uncomfortably, rubbing her thighs together. The tingling sensation was still all over her skin, every inch of it, but it seemed most intense right between her legs.

The truth was
,
she was starting to feel kind of... horny.

Damn silver,
she thought, and yanked at the ring angrily. It wouldn't come off, no matter how she tugged at it. Earlier it had fit just fine, but now it seemed too tight. It wouldn't even move.

She glared at it, and her eyes went wide with shock.

The skin around the ring was starting to turn silver.

Chapter 2

Conner sat alone in his office. The window was wide open to the cold winter night, but he hardly noticed. He was still seated at the computer, doing his best to get that website together, but he couldn't. He couldn't seem to concentrate on anything but Faelan.

The ring had called to him the moment he’d seen it, all but demanding that he buy it. He didn’t understand why he’d wanted to purchase it so badly, but he hadn’t been able to resist the impulse.
Which was admittedly a little strange, in a guy who adhered to a strict monthly budget covering everything from car payments to candy bars.

He’d simply known it would be perfect for her. And, he thought, remembering the way it had looked on her hand, he’d been right.

And he'd thought.... he'd gotten the impression
she
thought it was perfect, too. The way she'd looked at him when he gave it to her-- he remembered the glow in her golden eyes, remembered her bright smile. He'd been certain she'd been thrilled.

So why was she being so short with him now?

Maybe, he thought, she’d been put off by his stammering explanation that it wasn’t an engagement ring. Women did have certain expectations, after all. When a guy gave them a ring, it was usually because he was proposing. But he wasn’t quite ready for that, and neither was she. He thought they’d both been on the same page there. But maybe he’d been wrong. When it came to women, he all too often was.

He sighed and rolled his chair away from the computer monitor, admitting to himself that he wasn't going to get any work done tonight. Faelan’s odd attitude was weighing too heavily on him.

He frowned, remembering what the jeweler had told him, that the ring had something to do with the town’s earliest legend. Not that a legend could possibly be affecting Faelan. But still…

Not being a native—he’d moved here five years ago, after graduating college—he didn’t have any idea what that legend might be. He’d never heard a single whisper about it, so it must be fairly obscure. He rolled back to the computer and Googled “lupine,” finding entries about the tall, graceful flowers, but without any hint as to what they might have to do with the ring. He thought about it a moment, then searched for “lupine rapids” and “legend.”

Ahhhh
, he thought as he began reading the first entry.
Not lupine as in flower, but lupine as in wolf
.

According to legend, he read, some of the first settlers in this area had moved here and found
themselves
transformed into werewolves, able to become wolves at will.

Sure
, he thought with an eye roll.
Of
course
they were
.

But now it made sense that the ring had something to do with the legend. It didn’t look like a flower. But it did look sort of like…

He closed his eyes, trying to picture the ring. Now that he thought about it, he could see that the filigree pattern was a somewhat abstract depiction of a wolf, with a topaz for its eye.

None of which explained why he’d felt so strongly that Faelan must have it… or why she was angry with him now.

He stood up, stalked away from the computer, and went to the window to stare moodily into the night.

The night sky was inky black, but on the horizon, the full moon was just beginning to rise. It hung low in the sky, enormous and golden, making the light dusting of snow on the grass and trees seem to glow. It was a lovely, romantic night, a night he'd like to share with Faelan.

But apparently Faelan didn't want to share the night with
him
.

He bared his teeth. Damn it, he wasn’t going to sit here and mope about what the problem might be. In the past six months, they’d been happy, as happy as it was possible for two people to be. He was damned if he’d let her suddenly and inexplicably turn her back on him.

Whether she wanted to talk about it or not, this was something they needed to discuss.

He spun around, grabbed his car keys, and strode out the door.

*****

Oh, God, I'm dying here.

Faelan fell to her knees on the floor, running her hands wildly over her own body. She'd never in her life felt such a desperate craving. The itch had totally morphed into sexual need now, and her skin felt like it was rippling in endless waves of desire. She could feel goosebumps rushing over her body, could feel her skin tingling and prickling as the little hairs on her arms stood erect.

She imagined Conner's big hands on her skin, and another wave rushed through her, so intense she could hardly bear it. She wanted Conner, wanted him so much it hurt. She’d made love to him many times before, of course, but she’d never in her life wanted him this badly.

And instead she’d snapped at him on the phone, and told him to not come over. God, what had she been
thinking
?

Desperate to assuage the overwhelming need, she stroked her own nipples through the sweater she wore, and whimpered at the intense stab of ecstasy that shot through her. It felt good, but it wasn't enough. She needed so much more.

She caught her nipples between thumb and finger and squeezed them, as roughly as she could, and pleasure exploded through her, so overpowering she could barely hold in a scream.

Oh God oh God oh God...

The strange sensation wasn't going to stop on its own. That much was clear. She had to take matters into her own hands. Without even bothering to get up and lock the door, she reached down a hand between her thighs and began to rub frantically.

Her head arched back, and a wild noise of pleasure came from her throat, a feral sound. A savage growl.

Almost instantly she realized the denim of her jeans was in the way. She unfastened them with shaking fingers and pushed them down, struggling awkwardly out of them. And then she put her fingers against the silky fabric of her panties. She wanted to tug them off, too, but she just couldn't wait. The throbbing, desperate need was too urgent.