he said at last. “But it would be
more pleasurable for the both of us if you do not fight me.”
He
took my hand and kissed it gently, his breath a soft summer’s breeze on my skin.
In shock my eyes flew open and he captured me in his hypnotic gaze, his eyes
never leaving mine, burning into me, flaying my soul.
“My
lord,” I said, my voice cracking. It wasn’t so unusual that the god of the
night would choose a thief to dally with, one born for the darkness such as he.
For the first time I allowed my gaze to linger over his fur-covered body, his
muscular physique evident beneath all that lush dark grey fur. He wore nothing
but cut-off canvas trousers, a meek appearance for one who could summon the
masses to do his bidding and be served by royalty itself. Would I enjoy giving
myself to such a beast?
Did
it matter whether I enjoyed it? He seemed intent on taking me regardless. The
thought made me shiver.
“Did
you follow me from the manor?” I whispered as his whiskers tickled my palm.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He
stopped and looked at me. I barely came up to his shoulder. “You intrigued me.”
He
took my hand in a much gentler grip than before, and I hesitantly curled my
fingers around his own, trying to squash my fear and anticipation down in that
bold move. It was an honour to be chosen by the gods. One of my school friends,
Mimi, had been chosen by Halio the god of the ocean when she was fourteen, and
lost her virginity to him. She soon decided no lover could ever be as
wonderful, and promptly took herself off to a convent to pledge herself to him
forever more.
But
I had to be careful. Tales abounded of maidens and lads who pined after their
immortal lovers, waiting for them, broken-hearted that one so mighty could use
and abuse one so meek. The gods were ageless, eternal, and saw us mortals only
as ants, or pets.
I
would dally with Nocturne, and then I would return to my life, thankful I still
wore all my skin and wasn’t rotting in jail. It was a steep price to pay for my
life, but I would gladly pay it.
I
dared to reach out and stroke that luxurious fur on his chest. It felt silken
and smooth beneath my fingers, and he closed his eyes as a happy rumble
emanated from his chest.
“I’m
not afraid,” I said, but swallowed hard.
“Good.”
He smiled serenely, and tugged on my hand. “Come with me.”
I
trailed behind him as he led me out of the dark street and the city, and into
the forest. The trees pressed all around us, but I wasn’t afraid, not with the
cloak of shadows tucked around my shoulders once more. I was of the night, too,
born to it, raised in it, living in it. And nothing would dare bother Nocturne.
I
kept stealing glances at him as he led me further into the forest. If he hadn’t
already proven he was who he said he was, I never would have gone with him. I
watched as his bushy tail, hanging low and heavy down to his calves, swung back
and forth, twitched like his ears atop his head. I wondered what it would be
like to lie with such a being – not the god part, because Mimi had described in
great detail her own experience – but the beast part. He had so much fur! And I
wasn’t sure how to kiss a wolf’s muzzle – or even if he would want to kiss me
at all. Perhaps he just wanted to rut like an animal, base and instinctual and
all things godly.
He
paused and looked behind. “Just a little further, little sparrow.”
I
let him lead me far into the woods, farther than I’d ordinarily travel by
myself, or at night. I couldn’t help but feel safe with Nocturne. Maybe it was
the residual power lingering from his brief show of immortality. The way the
noises of the night fell silent as we passed. Even the shadows bent to his
will.
At
last, he came to a halt before a small, cosy but strong-looking cabin. By the
light of the crescent moon I could tell it had been well build, but I wondered
who it belonged to, out in the middle of the forest.
“It’s
a traveller’s hut,”
Lisa Mantchev, A.L. Purol