Free Ravished by the Wolf God: a medieval fantasy erotic romance (God of Night Book 1) by Belle Divine Page A

shimmy up my spine. The last thing I wanted was to have the wolf drag me
back to the manor I’d just escaped from. To say the lord had a bad reputation
was an understatement. I was sure he’d flail the skin from my back. Or cut off
my hand. Or have me raped to death.
    “Please,”
I begged, my mind flashing to any possible escape route. Unless the wolf let go
of me, I wasn’t going anywhere. Like a fool I trusted in my own skills and carried
no weapon to defend myself. I’d thought the cloak would be enough to hide me.
“I’ll do anything.”
    His
sapphire eyes brightened. “Anything?” His gaze roved over my body, almost like
he could see underneath my clothes, and liked what he saw. I nodded slowly,
dread clawing at my heart. I had a bad feeling the wolf had just thought of
something deliciously wicked.
    He
lowered me to my feet and began walking, dragging me along beside him. I
stumbled and almost fell, tripping over cobblestones.
    “I
can walk unassisted,” I snapped.
    “You’re
not going anywhere,” he snarled. His grip tightened, bruising, around my
forearm, although the silken water effect of the stolen cloak soothed the
burning feeling.
    “Where
are you taking me?” I squeaked as we passed through the town. “Don’t take me to
the magistrate, please, I promise I won’t do anything like this again! You can
take the cloak back to your employer, please I beg of you, don’t turn me in!”
    He
stopped and hauled me against the wall of an large, solid building, shoving me
bodily against it with both hands on my shoulders. The cloak slipped off one
shoulder, exposing the skin there. His eyes trailed to that patch of skin and I
fumbled at the knot at my throat. The cloak released from my shoulders but
stayed in place, caught between my back and the wall behind me.
    “I’m
not working for anyone,” the wolf said, his gaze moving from my shoulder to my
face. “What’s your name?”
    “Sparrow,”
I blurted, the first word that came into my head.
    His
eyes narrowed, and I knew he knew I’d lied.
    “What’s
your real name, little sparrow?”
    “Kayla,”
I squeaked.
    “Kayla,”
he said softly, all hints of the growl in him gone now. “I’m not going to hurt
you, and I’m not going to turn you in, but you made me a promise.”
    My
eyes widened.
    “My
name is Nocturne, and I give you my word, no harm shall come to you if you
submit to my will.”
    “You’re
named after the god of night?” I whispered.
    “No,”
he said, a smile upon his lips. “I am the god of night.”
    I
stared at him. It wasn’t uncommon for the gods to enter the earthly realm on
whatever whims they fancied, and they had even taken mortal lovers, but I’d
seen a dozen people claiming to be one of the gods in mortal form in the last
week alone. One was a fool dressed in a cloak made of crow’s feathers, pretending
to be Corax, the god of the underworld. He’d been carted away to an asylum. One
of the lesser imaginative people put a fish on their head and claimed to be
Halio, the god of the ocean. There was no law against impersonating a god, as
we retold their stories through playacts and literature, and it was supposed to
be easy to tell when one crossed your path. If you were fooled by an
impersonator, you deserved to be fooled.
    “Forgive
my scepticism, my lord,” I said, trying and failing to keep the sarcasm out of
my voice. “But I can’t just-“
    When
I raised my eyes to his I lost my voice. His eyes glowed brighter, the clear
blue illuminating every curve and angle in his pointed wolf’s face. In that one
moment I swear he appeared human, his soft coat of smooth fur replaced by pale
flesh, and his angular muzzle softening into the face of a handsome man,
clean-shaven and boyish.
    His
point made, the glow faded. My voice wouldn’t work. I squeezed my eyes shut and
willed to scream, but there was nothing. I was in the grip of a god, and I was
helpless.
    “I
don’t mean to frighten you, little sparrow,”