In His Keeping
If you are under 18, read no further, nor the submissions to come as certain points may be unfit for the young eyes.
The Rampant series and its characters are (c) to me. Please, no stealing. Thank you and enjoy.
This is the second addition to Rampant. If you're lost, please read the first and start from there. ^^
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=Chapter 2=
The variety of different shapes and different forms of werewolves sniffed, only just then realizing that they had company. A female through and through, and one who was definitely smelling devine despite the odor of the sewer that she had clumsily fallen into.
"Who's the fox?" queried one of Arryn's companions.
"Our hostage."
A dark brow forked up over a jade colored eye. Something wasn't right in his alpha's voice. It was too quiet, too unsure. "Hostage? This the human's little secret assassin wench they raised?"
"Aye." Arryn's usual tough, strong, demanding voice was soft, almost endearing as he stared down at the female whom he'd caught in his arms right after she fainted. Her body was unnaturally cool to the touch and light as a feather.
"Shall I prepare the dungeon, m'lord?" the same werewolf who had to be one of the more trusted asked. Perhaps he was more of a friend than an ally or soldier. Or lackey.
"Dungeon?" Arryn bellowed with disbelief, his eyes alive with fury. "Certainly not! Put her... no. I'll do it myself, Jeeve." It wasn't that he didn't trust his fellow werewolves. It was only the fact he didn't trust them enough to leave the vixen alone when she had been settled. Many of them had resolves and restraints as tight as a rope, but how long could that last? Not very, he thought, with such a prize that could be so easily taken.
The leader scooped the woman up into his arms like she was naught but a twig, then waded through the ankle-deep sewage water and up onto the concrete slab that would lead them elsewhere, deeper into the underground world.
Jeeve looked wounded for a moment, but nothing could keep the young werewolf down for long.
*~*
Sham gazed blearily around, her eyes only half opened, attempting to gage the area from under her long, fanning lashes lest someone---if anyone was around---find out she was awake. The smell of the sewage was almost gone. Where was she now?
Her frame shifted subtly, feeling the softness of a mattress under her body and the soft wool of a blanket that had been tucked in around her.
"Good morning. Or, at least, I think it's morning."
Sham started, her eyes snapping open in shock.
"Your breathing was altered. Few things can trick a werewolf into believing they are asleep, my dear." Full, sensual lips curved upward, dimpling a cheek on the left side. Her mouth fell open. Bronzed skin was glowing in the orangey light given off by several candles that were mounted on the brick walls and on the writing desk behind the... the man. The drop dead gorgeous man.
Those same strange blue eyes twinkled down at her with amusement, his hair a wavy mass of black that was long enough to cover his eyes if he dipped his head just right, a layered amount making him look wild and untamed. His body was lean, but none-the-less muscular, build athletic and oh-so-pleasing to the eye. Especially since he was shirtless and his upper torso was gleaming like a god's statue. He wore what looked to be leather trousers that draped over classy boots.
Did she just step into one of those cheesy romance novels she loved to read so much? Her mouth went dry.
She must look a fright. Why that bothered her in light of her situation, she didn't have a clue. Unconsciouisly a hand reached up to touch her hair. The icky feel of matts and tangles caused by the night's escapades and the nasty sewer water and refuge having done quite a fine job to make her look a mess. She could only imagine that her face looked like. She didn't want to know, either.
"You're welcome to use the bathing facilities," the man slouching in his seat in front of her pointed out, swirling a dark liquid in a tumbler glass. His other hand---strong, capable---pointed to an ajoining doorway.
Sham sprang out of the bed and whizzed into the room.
Arryn sighed once the door was firmly shut. And locked, he noted as he listened for the bolt slid home, his head shaking. The woman was so very beautiful. Those long, lawless tresses of wine-red that he fantasized about wrapping around his hand, smelling the sweetness as she slept. The wide, dominantly set eyes that were slanted in an exotic almond fashion in a shade equal to fire itself and outlined heavily with long, dark, fanning lashes. The skin, so pale and cool, clear and soft. Those delightful freckles that scattered themselves over her nose and under her eyes, giving her an adorable image that he had a feeling she often tried to hide and rise above.
She was intriguing to him. A mystery he had to solve. How had she come to serve such a cause? Why did she see it a fitting occupation to destroy a species, a race, that was the werewolves?
The werewolf in human form drained the rest of his drink, plunking the crystal glass back down on the desk counter. Perhaps she should be re-educated. Sure, some werewolves were the hulking, beastial, brutal creatures of folklore and legend, but they were much more civilized than what was written.
Standing under the hot spray of the water, she wondered how the werewolves had managed to create a lavish underground home beneath the very city. One with plumbing, no less. Clean water to wash and bathe. Until that moment she wasn't even aware that werewolves even bathed other than using their tongues like a dog.
Dumb idea, she guessed, squinting her eyes to the mist of the water in search for some soap or shampoo to use which she found in a large quantity---all sorts of scents to choose from.
It was pure heaven to stand under the heat of the shower head, fully lathered and foamy with the scents of lavender and vanilla floating up to meet her senses, calming her, relaxing her---at least as calm and relaxed as she could possibly get in her point of view.
Her mind wandered back to the werewolf in the other room, one who had not once exhibited the fact that he was a monster, but instead a gentleman who, while earlier that night had been pulling the trigger in rapid succession in her direction, meant no for no harm to come her. He was the epitome of a host.
Those eyes... so blue, so bottomless, so clear; they haunted her. And those lips didn't help any in her state, either.
What would it feel like to be kissed? Or touched? Affectionate touch was something foreign. Completely and utterly unheard of, unfelt.
She plucked her mind from the gutter with a lot of effort, then proceeded to stick her head under the water again, convinced that if she left it there long enough those thoughts would wash away and down the drain. She lost count of how long she had been in the shower. Feeling guilty, she twisted the knobs until the water shut off.
Stepping out, Sham felt around for a towel she'd previously located and wrapped it around her body, beginning to swiftly pat herself dry. Her eyes searched for her clothing... and found nothing. None of her strung-out garments.
Oh, it's on now, she thought, her anger level rising a tenfold. Her very ears burned with it. Securing the towel to make sure that in her haste and actions it didn't slip and reveal all of her bountiful goods, she strode out of the room like a bat out of hell, the door swinging so roughly out of her grasp it thudded on the wall, the knob breaking a chip away from the brick.
The surprised Arryn started, the book he had been reading to occupy his time---it was a lame effort, considering all he could do was think of the slender female lathering up in his shower---slipped between his legs to make a large slap of leather on the floor. His mouth hung agape.
There she was in all her glory, staring defiantly at him, a pissed off vixen in a too-short towel, her elevated breathing threatening to pop the soft cotton right off her body. With her fists plunked down on the flare of her hips, she might even seem daunting---in a sort of you're-in-trouble-mister sort of way. He scritched at the cleft in his arrogant, strong chin, slowly lifting a brow at her.
"Something not to your liking?" he inquired.
"You---you flea-bitten rat!" she spazzed. "Gimme my clothing. Now!"
For the first time, he caught a funny little lilt to her voice, one that hinted at an age-old language that hadn't been used in centuries. Despite how the humans had covered up everything about her---probably brainwashed her---he felt a twang of familiararity. And pity.
Did she even know her origins?
"Charming..." Arryn replied smoothly. "Your clothing is being washed, so just sit tight and wipe that---while adorable, but unneeded---look off your face, grab a seat, and wait it out."
She inhaled sharply. Was that an order? Did he dare order her? Why she padded over to the bed and sat, she wasn't sure. Every bone in her body said to rebel, but something elsewhere said to obey, and she did.
What could possibly be happening to her? Other than the fact she was out of her element, several levels under civilization, in a heat, and trapped in a room with a man she would like to pounce and have her way with even though she wasn't the dominant type.
"Good girl." He joked, picking his book back up. She twitched.
"There is a tray of food on the nightstand," he pointed out.
Sham's stomach did an odd flip-flop-groan in her hunger, but she refused to lift the lid.
"Come now, you must be hungry." Arryn jeered, staring at her from over the top of his reading material. "It isn't poisoned, if that's what you're worried about." Rising out of his chair, he walked over---too close, too close!---snatched the lid off the tray, pried away a portion of meat, and popped it into his mouth, proceeding to chew as though to prove to her it was safe to consume.
He licked his fingers clean, an action that made her heart still and mouth go dry. A sudden throbbing replaced her hunger for food... replaced it with a different kind of hunger, one so strong she had never experienced it before. All the heat left her body to pool in one particular place, leaving her quite uncomfortable indeed.
The sudden spike in her arousal nearly made Arryn groan and double over. The room had suddenly shrunk, and the only thing he could think about, the only thing he could see, was the woman perched on the edge of the bed in one of his towels. His vision tunneled. He recorded every single angle, hollow, plane, and swell of her body in his head. He drank in the sight of her, her hair slowly drying, returning to its corkscewed curls of red.
Sham seemed to sense the reaction, wariness entering her eyes. Her stomach leaped with something almost... butterflies? Was it anticipation? It didn't feel much like fear.
Slowly, muscles bunching powerfully, he advanced on her form, each step bringing her pulse to a rocky altitude. Abruptly, all slowness ended. The dream-like vision of him coming toward her was gone and she was a wild animal in need and he was her redeemer.
His long, strong, hard body covered hers, the thick arousal pressing firmly against her belly through the material of his trousers. She tossed her head back, her throat exposed---a throat he quickly took over with his mouth, obliterating all sense of reason and propriety with scalding kisses and nips.
Sham mewled in delight, goosebumps sizzling up her body in patches, making her skin that much more sensitive to touch. Her back arched, scraping her front up against his own. Mentally, she was almost in a panic---what was she doing? However, with one lovebite to her ear, all of those thoughts melted away and she was left only with instinct: the instinct to breed.
Arryn's hands dutifully caressed her breasts through the fabric of the towel, the soft-but-scratchy material and his minstrations causing the coral-pink nipples just beneath it to pebble and erect, a reaction he very much enjoyed. He tugged at the edge of the towel she'd stuck down her cleavage to assure that when up and walking around the thing wouldn't drift off her so easily, exposing the taut nipples and heavy breasts to the cool air. He sucked in a breath of awe. She was magnificent. All curves and pale beauty.
His mouth left her neck, trailing saliva from his tongue down her chest, following her sternum before veering to the left, laving the underside of her full breast. Sham jerked. Her breasts had never been touched by a man before. The sensation was new, exhilarating even.
Her body relaxed in bliss, letting his professional hands do their work. He caressed, he molded his hands to her breasts, he pressed the two mounts together, dragging his tongue between them. Heaven was found on Earth in the most unlikely of places---in the arms of her werewolf prey.
His hands left her breasts, instead focusing on her hips, following the dip and indentation of her waist. He kneaded. He prepared. He went lower. Adept fingers skimmed over her lower abdomen, causing a tensening of muscles and an unconscious lifting of her hips.
The pressure and attention to her bosom was gone. Her eyes opened to find him gazing intently down at her, his blue eyes blazing, piercing her soul. Without realizing it, her hands had knotted themselves in the thick, satiny strands of his hair, but that didn't seem to be the reason he had stopped. No, his head dipped, capturing her plump lips in somewhat of a heart shape with his own sensual mouth. The kiss was sweet, tender, passionate... something she didn't at all expect.
Sham melted under the practiced onslaught of his lips and tongue, unique, fiery pools shaded by a heavy line of dark lashes. What was it like to be kissed, she had once wondered, and not too long ago. It was pure emotion, pure pleasure, pure power all wrapped up into one. It was dizzying, it was titillating, it was esctasy.
She was utterly exposed for exploration and view. He, however, was still trapped within his trousers and boots and growing steadily frustrated with need. His mouth slanted more possessively, dominantly, over hers, his hands reluctantly leaving her body to clumsily---so very unlike him---unfasten the triple button fasteners at the front of his pants, and despite his fumbling fingers he freed his fully engorged, throbbing member from its tight confines. The heavy burden of desire sprang forward, meeting the skin of her belly with a solid smack.
It was then her eyes shot open, her mouth freezing under his, a shiver running up her spine. Was it fear? Anticipation? Apprehension? She wasn't sure. Consciousness slowly fogged the edges of her mind, rationality returning in slivers.
The man bent over her, his stomach pressing flush to hers, his chest evening to rest against her own. The wiry patch of hair in the middle of his chest both tickled and stung. The strip that tapered below his belly button to meet the hair governing his loins created a wondrous scrape. While all of these things were pleasurable, were making her body scream, the feel of his monstrous member sliding through the curls guarding her womanhood, the large head running over sensitive lips and sedately separating the petals of her precious flower was overwhelming. Almost frightening.
Knock. Knock. Knock. Sham's heart stopped, then she moaned with disappointment.
Arryn tore his mouth away from hers with a growl, flashing the reverberating door a glare that, had he had the power, would have sent it up in flames---it and whoever was behind it.
"Sir! We're under attack!"
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Critique is welcome, but as always, please be kind. I appreciate your time and advice.
Much thanks.
Rue