The Innocent

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The Innocent Copyright © 2004 Madison Foxe ISBN: 1-55410-215-4 Cover art and design by Martine Jardin All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher. Published by eXtasy Books, a division of Zumaya Publications, 2004 Look for us online at: www.zumayapublications.com www.Extasybooks.com

Madison Foxe

Chapter One Bengoa was alone in the dimly lit gallery, Catalin surrounded by the dark, foreboding series of oil

paintings collectively called ‘The Beast Within’. It was difficult to know whether the chill each of the five images had sent up her spine was due to the predominance of funereal colors, or the remarkably powerful savagery of the half-man, half-wolf portrayals. They were abstractions, yet so beautifully captured that she could almost feel the pain that leapt from the canvas through the strange, compelling eyes. She had been in Barcelona nearly two days when she saw the advertisement announcing the unusual collection of artwork by Francisco Marquez at the Marquez Gallery a few blocks from her hotel. It was off the beaten path, tucked in a far corner of a small courtyard, modern, elite, and the artwork displayed, very expensive. But Catalin wasn’t there to make a purchase. She was there searching for information, or a connection that she might be able to make with her father’s memory. She knew he must be dead. He had not made contact with her in over five years, and it wasn’t until after her mother died, six months ago, that she had discovered her father’s journal. The final 1

The Innocent entry had pointed to Barcelona, Spain, as his last known destination. The journal had been a work of torment, fear; the oft used reference to something he called “the beast within” marking the pages with portents. At first she thought it was some terminal disease that consumed him, but as she read, she began to understand that it was something more, something that fed on his soul like an insatiable parasite. Catalin had found the accounts of his agony painful, for him, but also for herself. There was restlessness in her own soul trying to divide, conquer, and push her to the unknown. She now moved about the room seeking messages from the aberrations splashed in thick oil, but heard no voice. **** He caught her scent. She smelled like a woman, her body free of the harsh chemicals of perfume. When he saw her, he was even more intrigued, taken in by the long, angular body and delicate, soft features. A skein of white-blond hair fell over her shoulders in gentle waves, a place to run his fingers. He observed her from the second floor landing, enjoying the way she moved, giving her time to browse over his work before he joined her. **** Catalin felt a presence, and turned. He was leaning over the railing, above the floor at the far end of the gallery, watching her. Her gaze locked with his immediately, and she felt a stir from somewhere 2

Madison Foxe down deep, like something had just reached across the room and threaded its way into her. The man was incredibly attractive, in a dark, forbidding kind of way. She watched him descend the stairs, confident, determined and potent. His shoulder length jet-black hair was pulled back from his chiseled face, hiding his ears, and caught in a band at the back of his neck. The man had edge. Catalin felt the breath catch in her throat. Attractive men weren’t strangers to her, but this man had something else, a feral quality that ignited the energy in the room. She wondered if she blushed. Or was it that the temperature had just risen twenty degrees? Without thinking, she let her gaze drop to the v-neck black cashmere sweater, and dance lightly over the patch of black hair that twisted sparsely from the well-defined chest. Sleeves pushed to his elbows, the sweater was tucked neatly, tightly, into the band of the black leather pants that did his magnificent physique justice. She felt her heart pick up pace, her glance lingering a little too long on the nonchalant bulge of his groin. “Do you see anything you like?” His smile was sultry, his accent rich with the Castilian melody, but his English rolled off his tongue clearly. He was obviously well educated. It took a moment for Catalin to frame the question in her mind, momentarily distracted by the amusement in his eyes and the warmth of his voice. “Yes,” she said nodding, as she bit her bottom lip pensively. “It’s all very beautiful. Are you the artist?” He dipped his head in a mock bow. “Sí, I am 3

The Innocent Francisco Marquez, and you are?” “Catalin.” She smiled. “Catalin Bengoa. And I’m curious,” she said, regaining her composure. “What is this series about? I can’t tell if I’m looking at men in wolf’s clothing or wolves in men’s clothing.” Francisco raised an eyebrow. “Perspective is in the eye of the beholder. Like beauty,” he observed, his gaze lightly caressing her. “Well, then what does it mean, this ‘Beast Within’?” **** She had intelligence. There was also a scent of something on the edge of convergence about her. It was a mark he had not sensed in a long time. The memory and meaning pulled his attention around with a jerk. He took a new interest. “There are some men, and women,” he answered, watching her eyes for some sort of recognition of the meaning behind his words, “that must do battle with something that lives deep within the soul and torments the heart. It is a beast, a monster that threatens to seize the host for an eternity. If a man can fight it, hold it at bay, it will serve him. A man in wolves clothing, as it were.” He smiled, giving her comment due. “But if he cannot, and he weakens...” “...he becomes the wolf in men’s clothing,” she finished. “I’ve known a few of those.” Francisco had not seen the humor in her cavalier comment. However, it was telling. He was certain that she didn’t know what she was. 4

Madison Foxe “I’m not talking about a man with bad manners,” he edified. “I’m talking about a man consumed by something he will never fully understand.” “And what of women?” she asked. “You said there are those that battle this same beast.” Her expression dared him to impress her with his words, the chemistry between them a muse he hadn’t experienced in a long time. Francisco had her attention, but that had never been an issue. He had just wondered if she would keep his, and so far she had. “Come,” he said, “I want to show you something.” He took her elbow, as if he knew she’d follow him anywhere, and guided her to a room at the rear of the gallery. A place for private showings. Like the gallery, it was seductively lit, a dark room that glowed under the muted bulb of portrait lights. Francisco had wanted her to see the life-size canvas enthroned on the wall at the end of the sanctum. **** Catalin was awed. Primal eroticism poured through the passion of half-human beasts, the images darkly sexual and moving. Francisco stood very close to her, his hands clasped behind him. His nearness scalded her and she wanted to run, but her feet were bolted to the floor. She wanted to reach out and touch him, caress the soft sweater, run her hand over the leather constricted swell. She surprised herself, wondering from where the thoughts had surfaced. 5

The Innocent “Remarkably,” he said, “with a few minor changes that could be you.” Catalin could see the resemblance. “And the man?” she asked. “I pose for my work.” She didn’t dare look at him. “Well, I guess I’d better go find myself a wolf.” She chuckled. Francisco was right in front of her now, so close that she took a step back and hit the wall. His hands slapped against the stucco on either side of her head, her body caged by the power of the man. Francisco bent his head to her, and she thought he might kiss her. But he didn’t. He just put his mouth past her hair to her ear. “Be careful what it is that you hunt,” he whispered hotly. “Such men possessed can take what they want, when they want, wherever they want. A woman can become prey.” His words sent a shudder through her, and his mouth receded slowly and began to move, his lips so close to her skin she could feel his breath sear a path across her forehead, down the temple towards her other ear. She held her breath, closed her eyes. “For a man, the awakening of the beast comes suddenly. It rises from the depths with a fury unmatched and a power so seductive, he begins to crave it like a narcotic. But for the woman, the beast slumbers and must waken gently. It must be coaxed, willed, drawn from the pit with a steady and knowing hand” His breath skimmed her cheek, flitted near her chin, his lips so close they glazed her skin with 6

Madison Foxe promise. Catalin exhaled. “Your scent intoxicates me,” he murmured. She was lost, her body communicating things to him her mind would never agree to. She was afraid, thrilled, and her pussy convulsed. There was something she wanted. Badly. His nostrils flared. “Ah,” he said. “I detect the musk of arousal.” He groaned huskily. “It seems my voice is touching you in places you want me to go. I wonder what my lips could do.” Catalin moaned. Her mouth parted. He took possession. The pressure came slowly, his tongue easing between her lips tentatively, feeling its way in, like a blind man tracing new ground. She was spellbound, unable to move, the desire building from her flaming sex like a spark hitting dry grass. And still, he controlled the pace, working his way slowly through her mouth, leaving no sense untouched, no crevice unexplored. He was rousing a hunger she did not recognize as hers, seeing the boldness of an appetite that startled her. A hand slid up under her shirt and locked over her breast, molding it to his palm with the heat. He groaned as she pressed into the touch, his cock hardened against her thigh. Francisco eased away from her slowly, and Catalin found herself following his lips as he moved, leaning into him, letting her breasts burn into his chest, the hunger far from sated. “What brought you to my gallery?” He played the words over her lips like wings in flight. She willed her eyes open, meeting his. Why was 7

The Innocent she there? “Why am I here?” She voiced her confused thoughts. “Yes?” Francisco smiled. “I was looking for something,” she stammered. “Did you find it?” “No.” The door to the gallery opened, the bell ringing the new arrival. Cisco growled at the intrusion. “I’ve got to get out of here,” Catalin said, feeling like she had overstayed her welcome. She suddenly needed cover. He grabbed hold of her arm as she moved from him. “Where are you staying?” “Los Fuentes.” She ran out the door, nearly toppling the stranger as she passed.

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Chapter Two Michael hailed from the entry as the door “Cisco,” slammed behind the luscious creature that had

just escaped. “The woman carried your scent and smelled like sex. What have you been doing while I was gone?” He chuckled. Francisco turned toward the massive portrait of the man and woman on the wall. “I’m not sure.” “Not sure?” Michael asked. “When has the indomitable Cisco ever vacillated over a woman?” Ignorant of the duality of her nature, Cisco could sense she was naive to the wolf that lingered just below the surface, stirring her soul restlessly as it sought its right to be. Only another Werewolf, a Lycanthrope, would sense the beast within another. “She’s different,” Cisco said. “She’s an Innocent.” Cisco knew that Michael understood what that meant. An Innocent was a wolf near transition without a clue as to what was happening to their minds, their bodies, or their spirit. They were rare. Most Weres had years of nurturing into their awareness, either by a parent, or someone in the pack. It was sad when an Innocent was forced to face such a horrific experience with no preparation. The 9

The Innocent consequences were bleak. Either the wolf nature surmounted the human and went ‘wild’, or they died. Michael touched Cisco’s arm. “Don’t get involved, man. Let her go.” His warning was insistent. There were myths carved from such encounters. Michael was much more superstitious then Cisco, but nothing was to be discounted. **** Catalin escaped from the gallery like there was something on her heels she didn’t want to see. She stopped and dropped into a chair at the first sidewalk cafe she saw and ordered a glass of wine. What had just happened? Nothing that she hadn’t wanted from the first moment she had seen the man. But she should have been more careful what she wished for. She was still trying to catch her breath from the encounter. The wine was delivered quickly, apparently just like she had given herself over to the mesmerizing Francisco Marquez. What was she thinking? She hadn’t flow thousands of miles to have sex with a stranger. There were a lot of corners closer to home. But she was still searching for air, and her panties were damp with the experience. Catalin reached down into her bag and pulled out her father’s journal. It was a good place to ground, to remind herself that she was looking for consolation as much as her father had been when he came to the Catalonian city, and it wasn’t going to be found in Marquez’s arms. In fact, the artist had just made the 10

Madison Foxe confusion in her body worse, churning up things that didn’t belong to her. She sipped the cool wine over her bruised lip, and sighed. In his scripted confessions, Davis Bengoa had mentioned a place he called ‘La Guarida de los Lobos’-The Lair of the Wolves. He had thought it could be what he called a 'haven of hope', a place where he could make contact with others. What 'others' was not defined, but he was obviously looking for the company of those he thought shared his torment. It made her curious, and it was a stop on her very short list. Catalin had taken the name to the hotel concierge and had been told it was an exclusive club in the Gothic Quarter, open only on weekends. The concierge had never been there, or knew anyone who had. Rumor carried that it was hard to get past the doorman. It was Friday, and she looked at her watch. There were four hours before the club opened. Enough time to change clothes, and run for dinner. Now, if they would only let her in the door. **** Cisco sat at his usual table at The Lair and ordered brandy. He still had the taste of the American woman on his tongue, and he let it linger. It aroused him, kept his dick swollen, but not hard, the memory molded against his balls like warm ember. Michael sat down across from him. “You’ve got that American woman on your mind,” he said. 11

The Innocent Cisco knew the woman’s scent lingered over him like a luminescent veil. “Leave it alone, Michael,” Cisco warned. An invasion into his personal thoughts and motivations was something he rarely allowed, even from Michael. Cisco was a Dominate in the pack, an Alpha, and no matter how sophisticated or civilized their understandings had become, the beast was still the beast. “Well, the plot thickens,” Michael snarled, picking his glass from the table. But his words fell on mute ears; Cisco’s senses were already on alert. There might as well have been a spotlight on the woman as she walked through the door. She had changed clothes, shed jeans for a dress, her long legs rising on tall heels. “That dress fits her well,” Michael observed, “Her breasts are charming tucked inside that tight little bodice, and that short skirt sweeps her thigh like a breeze. I can see why your cock swells.” Cisco ignored the comment, his focus on the woman. She was extraordinary. And it was curious that she was here. Catalin looked around, more eyes devouring her body then she had time to digest. Cisco flared his nostrils. She still wore his scent like a brand. It would draw interest, but it did suggest territory. Catalin would not be disturbed unless his interest was challenged. The fact she was an Innocent would make her more vulnerable in this den of wolves then the usual well-honed bitch that would turn up a leg for a stab. A ripe pussy was always much more inviting then a dug hole. 12

Madison Foxe Catalin edged up to the bar and smiled at the young man mixing drinks. She appeared to place an order as she leaned an elbow on the counter. The barman delivered the wine and then lifted his chin into the air and sniffed. Cisco smiled to himself. The Omega recognized an Alpha signature. With Cisco’s scent on the woman, she would be suddenly invisible, outside territory, except to another Dominant. **** The Lair was a pack club, and though the occasional stranger made it past the door, it was a rare occurrence. Even rarer when the intruder was a human woman, but then she wore Cisco’s scent. And there was something else, a sweetness, Edward Kensington had noticed. She was an Innocent. There was nothing like the breath of an Innocent on the edge of transition. It flowed from her pores like musk, the pheromones stimulated by the chemical changes screaming for a shove to put the wolf over the edge. For the nurtured dog, the shift always took place when the breed was too young to emote, but the Innocent went through the change naturally, and all the better for a randy male lupine. Edward had watched Catalin move into the room. She was a new face, new blood, fresh, and Cisco had already been sniffing around her. He looked up to Cisco’s table, the dark wolf intent on the prey. Good. He smiled to himself. With this little treat, Edward 13

The Innocent could not only gouge Marquez, he could make a tidy sum on a sale. He took a few strides across the room and moved up to the bar next to the woman. Edward leaned toward the beauty, his British polish glossing his words. “I haven’t seen you in here before,” he said smiling down at her. She returned the smile and took a sip of wine. **** From his table in the VIP section of the lounge, Cisco watched Kensington move across the floor, well aware of the man’s intent. “Kensington is pulling your chain, Cisco,” Michael observed. Cisco snorted. “The bastard has been pushing me for years. But,” he admitted, “he just might get my attention this time.” Cisco knew Edward Kensington. A Were of the worst kind, and Catalin was a lamb too close to hungry jaws. Cisco tossed the brandy to the back of his throat and stood. **** “Would you like to sit down?” Edward asked the woman, gesturing to the settee near the fireplace. “Actually, I wanted to talk to the bartender. But he seems to be ignoring me.” Edward chuckled. Of course the pup was. Unless her glass was empty, he’d keep his distance. “Juan,” 14

Madison Foxe Edward called. “The lady would like your attention for a moment.” She flashed Edward a wide grin before turning to Juan. “I wonder if you’d look at this picture and tell me if you have ever seen this man in here.” She handed a photo to the bartender. Juan said he hadn’t seen the man, but then he had only worked at the club for a year. Edward offered a look and glanced at the picture, then shook his head. He handed the photo back to the Innocent. Her blonde hair shone freshly under the warm light of the bar, the back of her head nearly reflecting the image of Cisco standing in the shadow. The wolf wanted a word. Edward had been expecting the attention, and ordered the woman another wine to ensure she’d stick around, before excusing himself to join Cisco at the table on the mezzanine. **** “You need to back off the woman,” Cisco said as Edward sat down across from him. “She’s an Innocent.” Edward laughed. “What do I care if she hasn’t cut her teeth yet? It raises her price substantially. There are quite a few Weres out there that would pay handsomely for virgin wolf.” The hair on the back of Cisco’s neck ruffled, and he hardened his eyes pointedly. “I mean it, Kensington. This isn’t a discussion, and she’s not for sale.” 15

The Innocent “You have no power over this unless you decide to make her your mate, which we both know isn’t going to happen. You’re a rogue. You’d no more give up the thrill of the hunt then I would.” Cisco’s jaw set, knowing Edward was right. He didn’t have any say in the matter. It was pack law that unless the she had been spoken for as a mate, the wolfette was up for grabs. Whether or not he’d ever mate was not a discussion he was going to have with the scourge. “Hey,” Edward sneered. “I can be reasonable. If all this is about fucking the woman, I can put off transactions for a few days. Just make sure you don’t damage the merchandise.” Kensington stood. “Or maybe she’ll find my English cock much more appealing then a Castilian swell.” Cisco took a deep breath, willing his blood to a manageable pace and followed Edward down the stairs. “This isn’t over yet.” Edward peered up over his shoulder at Cisco. “I don’t want a battle with you,” he declared frankly. “No,” Cisco said. “You don’t.”

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Chapter Three was still standing at the bar when Edward Catalin returned, but when Francisco came into view, her

eyes lit up. How lucky was this? “Hello,” she said, hoping her voice hadn’t shaken with the one word. Cisco’s hand snaked around Edward, took Catalin, and pulled her gently to him. He took her wine and gave it Edward, then led her to the dance floor. Music from the German group Enigma poured out of the speakers, the ethereal sound sexy, and the rhythm easy. He lifted her arms to his shoulders, smiled, then wrapped his hands around her narrow waist and moved her in close to him. He held her eyes while their hips began to move together, slowly, the drum beating like a heart, onetwo, one-two, one-two. Cisco kept her close, watching her face as they stroked to the sensuous beat. The dance was carnal, and his hard thighs directed her movement, pushing muscle to muscle, pelvis to pelvis, the heat molding their legs together like raw clay. His strong fingers guided, controlled, mastered her body with a touch, and she submitted to the potency, seeking his direction like a starving pupil. His eyes were hypnotic, dark, smoldering, calling her 17

The Innocent to him from the fire. Unseen lips ravaged her will like a hungry animal, her pussy pushing into him, unable to control the feelings he was drawing from her rousing depth. His appetite was power, the passion emanating from him in waves driving her blood into frenzy. Her sex contracted madly, preparing for the man. She wanted him, and she wanted him to know it, taking no chances with inhibition. Her panties were wet with need, and from the moment he had lay his hands on her body, she had given up any will but that which flowed through her now. It was hot, searing her insides with liquid steel, forcing a voice over her spirit in the process of possession. All her demons centered on him, the man who manipulated her senses. Cisco pulled her body against him, her breasts into his chest. He kept one hand tight in the small of her back, and ran the other into the middle, guiding her over him like a second layer of skin. Her nipples began to ache as she felt his cock rise through the tight leather brushing her pussy without shame. His tongue licked her ear, sucking in the lobe, whispering things she couldn’t understand as he spoke to her body. Her arms pulled him in tighter, her own lips working their way over his damp neck, tasting the flavor of his skin, the smell of lust oozing from his pores like sweet nectar. She wanted him to take her right there on the dance floor, and when the song ended, she thought she would die before she let him go. 18

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**** Edward watched the wanton display, the potency of the fire on the floor entrancing. The lure of the beast-musk--permeated the air, igniting the room. He was turned on, and noticed the proud bulge in the Lycan’s pants and the heat in the woman’s eyes as they left the dance floor. It was clear that Cisco was going to be a concrete wall when it came to the Innocent. Edward would have to move quickly if he was going to take advantage of the promising sale. **** Cisco steered Catalin to the door and out to his car. The red Lamborghini Murcielago–Bat blazed under the street lamp. She was still floating on the adrenaline hormone high as he urged her from the building. Where were they going? She didn’t care. As long as it was somewhere they could get naked. They pulled away from The Lair, and Cisco laid his hand on the inside of her thigh, pushing the fabric up, just a little, for access. “Why were you there tonight?” “An odd coincidence, I’m sure,” she began, then gave him a sketch of her history, her father’s journal, the angst he had spread over the pages. Cisco appeared to be listening as he pulled up to the front of her hotel. Catalin looked at him, surprised, and then smiled. Of course. “Do you want to come up?” 19

The Innocent Cisco shook his head. “No. But I want to see you tomorrow. Maybe we can find someone who can shed some light on your father’s mystery.” He smiled as he left the car to open her door. His eyes, and that promise were enough for her tonight, and she climbed from the car into his arms. The kiss was long and sensuous, the string to her pussy pulled one more time. “What you do to me, Francisco,” she purred. He put a finger over her lips. “No,” he whispered. “It is what we do together.” **** Catalin closed the door to her suite and leaned against it with a heavy sigh. She had known enough men in her life to recognize trouble when she saw it. Francisco Marquez was a little too amazing to be real. He moved her in places she had never known existed, and in one day, he had changed the criteria with which she would judge any other man Catalin had no illusions that the artist would move on as quickly as he had moved in, but she was damned if she could ignore the ride in between. The phone rang, drawing her from the fantasy, and she ran for the receiver expecting it to be him. “In early?” the Englishman from the bar queried. “There are hours left to enjoy the seamier side of the city. Want to come out and play?” How had he known where she was staying? “No, thanks. I’m tired.” “How about lunch tomorrow?” 20

Madison Foxe “I’m busy.” **** Cisco picked her up from the hotel. “I’m going to take you out into the country. There is someone I’d like for you to meet.” They left the city and went inland, towards the mountains. “Did your father ever speak of Spain?” “No, but I did learn that he had named me after my grandmother, who apparently was Basque.” “Yes.” He smiled. “Catalin means ‘pure’” The scenery was beautiful. Catalonia, was one of the few regions of Spain that still laid claim to their own language, their own traditions, and their own people. Cisco explained that the woman he wanted her to meet was a Basque, like her father, and her grandmother. They pulled into a dirt drive, Cisco driving slowly as he edged the car in over the potholes and crevices. At the end of the narrow path was a small, shingleroof cottage fringed by chickens that scattered into the bordering woods as they approached. He pulled up to the front door, and looked over at Catalin. “What expectations do you have about locating your father?” “None,” she admitted. “I didn’t know him all that well, but as far as grieving…” She shrugged. “If I did, it was a long time ago.” Catalin thought the expression she saw in Cisco’s eyes strange, even ominous. 21

The Innocent A wizened old woman barreled from the cottage, greeting Cisco like a long lost child. Her English was reasonable, but Catalin soon began to think that she spoke in abstractions more then literals. “This handsome boy tried to bite off one of my fingers the first time I tried to pull the bird from his mouth.” The crone grinned, her smile missing several teeth. She obviously wanted to remind Cisco of the intimacy of their relationship, but Catalin was sure she didn’t get the allegory. Catalin watched Cisco roll his eyes before introducing the old woman to Catalin as Pilar. Pilar took Catalin’s hand. “Cisco has always known what flower to pick.” She grinned again, her mouth muddied with pieces of chewed leaves She fingered Catalin’s hand like a reader, and kept sniffing the air and probing her eyes. “She is near bloom, Cisco,” Pilar said, winking at the man. “Her scent is sweet, and strong. It is possible she will survive.” Catalin looked at Cisco for explanation, but he offered none. Left to nothing but courtesy, Catalin smiled and squeezed the old woman’s hand. “Thank you,” she offered graciously, not sure what else to say. “We are here, old woman,” Cisco said, “to see if you know anything of her father.” Pilar dropped Catalin’s hands. “Then come in.” Inside the confined space, the woman turned to the shelves of books. “For generations my family has been keeping the Were records. If your father is of the pack, or of the region, I will have his note” 22

Madison Foxe “I beg your pardon?” Catalin asked. Cisco smiled. “Tell Pilar your father’s name and approximate age.” Catalin provided the information per Cisco’s instruction, and watched Pilar thumb the pages of the strange tome. The frail fingers suddenly stopped running the pages, and she lifted her worn face from the book. “I remember him. It was a sad thing. He had transitioned, but he had not been able to reconcile his two natures. The man was tormented beyond help, as we might imagine,” she said, looking at Cisco. “He went wild and later died.” She glanced at Catalin. “I am sorry, child. But you walk a tainted path.” Catalin looked up at Cisco, awaiting answers. Cisco tossed some money on the table and urged Catalin to the door. The crone winced under her memories. “She has an equal chance of survival, Francisco. Tend her well, if you must.” “She is an old woman,” Cisco said once they were in the car. Catalin recognized an excuse when she heard one, but she also knew enough to determine that Francisco was coloring the moment. There was a history between them that he hadn’t shared with her. “What is Pilar to you?” Cisco put the car in gear. “She was like a governess,” he said, not taking his eyes from the road. “I grew up in a close clan. She is one of several who nurtured me.” Catalin actually found that information comforting. 23

The Innocent He had been nurtured. “So, if she had come into contact with my father, what did she mean when she said he had ‘gone wild’?” Catalin’s tone was adamant. “A madness?” he deflected. “No,” Catalin said, watching the shift of his jaw, sensing the change in the air. She couldn’t explain how she knew, but she knew. Evasion. “Come to my home,” Cisco said, shifting gears.

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Chapter Four isco’s studio, and home, was set at the top of a seventeenth century Romanesque structure, curved, carved and looped to hug the skyline like a claw. He owned the building. Owned the world as far as Catalin was concerned, the studio everything she imagined an artist’s den would be: splattered paint, stretched untouched canvas, pallets molded with colored mud, and easels of work in progress. “I wanted you to see this,” he said turning a large canvas to her. “It’s a woman coming into her true nature. I want to paint your face over her being.” The image was fresh. A few days old, he said. It was a nude wrapped in the fur of transition, a woman without definition, faceless, whose voice called from the canvas to be made whole. Why not? Catalin thought. Then after she had been discarded, every time he looked at the painting he would be reminded of her. “Alright,” she agreed. “What should I do?” “Nothing.” He smiled. “Just be.” Everything about the man’s world was subdued. Even when he switched on the light of his studio, the room was bathed in warmth. He had told her that he

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The Innocent hated the glare of contrived light. It sucked the life from his images like a vampire inhaled blood. “I will want you to sit here,” he said, rolling the chaise over to her. “I don’t need the whole of your body, just your lovely torso and face. But I want you to be comfortable. Do you mind changing into a robe?” Did she mind? “Of course not.” She smiled. “Where?” He pointed her to the dressing room. He had a place dedicated to such things; she obviously wasn’t the first. The robe he handed her was fresh, black, and soft to the skin. It was also short. She decided to leave her panties on. When she emerged, he was waiting for her, his chest bare. He looked like a magnificent bronze sculpture that exuded virility, and begged to be touched. “Are you warm enough?” he asked, following her to the couch. Catalin nodded, feeling suddenly shy. He leaned her against the rolled arm of the chaise and opened the robe over her shoulders, exposing her breasts. His eyes locked with her hers as he draped the fabric into the curve of her arms. She gasped as goose bumps erupted over her skin from anticipation. “A chill?” He smiled, his gaze running over her flesh, his fingers tracing her jaw line. Did the man miss anything? He bent down and gave her a light kiss. It felt like a tease and a promise. He stepped back from her, throwing her hair over her shoulder, then letting it fall provocatively over one breast. 26

Madison Foxe “You are perfection,” he assured her as he picked up the palette and the brush. “I think your father came to Barcelona to seek his true nature,” he said as he stroked the paint over the canvas. “I wonder if, perhaps, the daughter has done the same.” “Probably,” she said. “My father’s issues motivated me, but my own restlessness has sustained this hunt for whatever it is I’m trying to find.” There was so much dishevelment in her soul, it was hard to define. But since she was in the mood to confess, she chose the obvious path. “I have this reoccurring dream that is always left unresolved.” She had never spoken of it before. “Tell me about it.” “I’m running from something that has frightened me terribly, and I hear a wolf howling somewhere in the distant darkness. I think that it is calling me. That perhaps if I find it, I will be safe. And then I wake up. But I’m always left feeling that there is something there for me to know.” She looked up at him. “And then I ended up in your gallery, more wolf things, and…definitely more confusion.” He had paused to listen, as if her words were important. “What do you think it might mean?” She chuckled. “Maybe it speaks of my beast.” Wasn’t that a buzz term he related to? His expression was serious. “Maybe it does.” “You mean, like-father-like-daughter?” Was she being sucked into the same wasteland, like debris caught in the flow of a drain? “I have yet to know what issues tormented my father, and perhaps I never will, but whatever it was, it obviously consumed him. 27

The Innocent If he did give into madness by ‘going wild’, like Pilar said, I would hate to think my future is as bleak.” “No. Not you,” he said. “You are strong. You won’t let this beast control you like it controlled your father.” Catalin thought his tone strange, absolute. “What made you think that Pilar would know something about my father?” “Your name Bengoa is Basque. Pilar spent much of her life in that region, and I knew of her extensive collection of genealogical records.” That made sense to Catalin. “It was kind of you to want to help.” He continued to paint. “My motives were not so altruistic. When your body is pressed into mine, I feel something I have felt with no other woman. I feel complete.” He had said the words so freely, as if he had said them before. They lulled her, seduced her, and drew her into him. If he had wanted her spread eagle on the couch, she would have given it to him. He set his brush down and walked over to her, kneeling at her feet. He looked at her face, offering her the comfort of his familiarity before his eyes dropped to her breasts and scanned them like a starved animal. She wanted to lift them to him, urge him to make contact. Like a seer he pulled them with desire, the expression in his eyes alone enough to make her pussy leak, the nipples gorge with plea. He wrapped the satin fabric over her shoulders, then looked into her eyes and called her to view his work. 28

Madison Foxe Startling. It was as if he had seen into her soul and had graciously offered her a glimpse of what he had seen. Catalin was a butterfly emerging from a cocoon of flesh and hair, the primal blood fueling her transition as it had been programmed to do. The painting was difficult to look at. It frightened her somehow. “I don’t understand what’s going on. But I feel like something is, and it’s disturbing.” Cisco reached for her. “It is natural. There is nothing more confusing then change.” He pulled her into him, the robe a thin slate between their bodies. Catalin looked up into Cisco’s eyes. “What change? What is it Pilar meant when she said that I may, or may not survive?” Her voice was almost desperate. He grinned. “This evening with me.” **** Catalin was close to embracing the beast and she titillated Cisco’s senses as the nerve synapses fired. The Were side of her nature was taking form, and she would soon be close to her first transition from human to wolf. Women had the most difficult time with the shift, the ferine nature of the beast too primal. This period was particularly dangerous for Catalin, as the mind had to build strength to accept the change so as to not lose herself to it, like her father had. He would guide her through it. But revelation would not be the way. Cisco took her mouth in his. She reeked of the sweet scent of vulnerability, the anxious state of 29

The Innocent unknowing that triggered loss of sense and reason into one sensuous, rich, cloud for the wolf: the state of prey. He would ravage her. He would protect her. There were even moments when the hunt had begun to look less intriguing then the cave. Catalin was taming the beast. He molded her into him, pushing the robe over her shoulders with one hand as he found her breast with the other. She moaned into his mouth as he toyed with her nipple, squeezing, flicking, hardening the berry, before picking it off with his tongue, circling, biting, sucking it into his mouth. He moved slowly, afraid of hurting her, afraid that if he let go he’d devour her, the brute inside forcing its way to the surface. He growled as he plucked the other stiff orb, licking over it roughly, his ardor growing more savage as she groaned with each sharp sensation. She was making him crazy with her heat, her insistence as she rubbed herself over him, laying scent, enticing, electrifying, causing his blood to boil. His mind was distancing itself from reason as he surrendered to her need. He was unyielding in his gluttony, moving from her breast to her mouth with the dexterity of an acrobat, never once losing his partner in the process. He dropped to his knees, his mouth searing her velvet belly with damp kisses, swirling over the fine fur, wetting his voracious appetite for the juicy fruit that ripened with each tantalizing sensation. “Oh, God,” Catalin moaned as his hands forced her legs apart. His fingers slid into her pussy, the soft lips folding in around them as he stroked the channel. She 30

Madison Foxe was so ready, and his cock strained against his jeans, the pain excruciating. He looked up into her face. The level of heat between them left the mind raw. All five senses exploded, wild, and he saw a vision in her eyes that he recognized. The face of the beast. She grabbed his head in her hands and pulled him into her sex. He plundered the nest like a madman, lapping her fluids. His fingers slipped from the slush, and he rammed his tongue up inside her as she cried for more. Harder and faster he moved, his tongue rough, his fingers deft and his want of her unquenchable, his thumb rubbing the button that released the gates. He couldn’t get enough of her scent, taste, and he was on the edge. His fingers pressed into her thighs as she held his head and jammed her pussy over his tongue, the groans from above and below driving the demand. She pulled him up to her and fingered the button of his pants. Cisco was so hard now he thought he would explode when her hand wrapped around the thick shaft. He inhaled her mouth. “I want you inside me,” she whispered down into his throat, the plea smothering his cock seductively. “Please, put it in. Please.” He leaned his head back on his shoulders, and willed for strength. “I can’t.” He groaned. He couldn’t risk losing control, the wolf pushing her over before she was ready. “No,” she said. “You can.” She moaned. “Now.” 31

The Innocent He took her hand from him, the ache of loosing her touch almost more then he could bear, until he saw the look in her eyes. It was agonizing. “You bastard,” she hissed. “You can’t? Or you won’t?” “You don’t understand,” he said, trying to reach for her. Catalin ran for the dressing room to retrieve her clothes, then pushed him from her as she moved into the hall toward the door. “Catalin, don’t do this” he warned. He didn’t want her to be alone right now. He had pushed her too far. Her emotions were stripped bare. She turned on him. “Prey,” she said, her voice venomous. “That’s what I am to you, isn’t it? This is about your control and me being prey for your amusement. It’s what you were trying to tell me in the gallery.” He moved like the wind and had her flat up to the wall, his body caging her in. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her mouth to him, kissing her hard. He lifted his head sharply. “Maybe once. But not now. I’ll drive you back to the hotel,” he told her, backing away from the wall. “I’ll get a cab.” “Catalin,” he said, taking her arm. “I’m not letting you go out there alone.” “Take your hand off me. The beast has risen,” she sneered, mockingly. “Isn’t that part of your shtick?” He dropped her arm. “Be careful.” He had seen the tears in her eyes, and could hear her sobs echoing up the stairwell. He rammed his fist 32

Madison Foxe into the wall. **** Francisco’s scent lingered over her like a blanket, and it hurt. She could still smell him, feel the warmth of his touch caressing her in places she hid. The cab driver pulled over at a restaurant, blocks from Cisco’s building, and Catalin ducked into the restroom to fix her makeup. She was too upset to go back to the hotel, and felt too lost to go anywhere but the only place she knew. The Lair.

33

The Innocent

Chapter Five caught the Innocent’s scent as she walked Edward in the door of the Lair.

“You seem upset,” he said, guiding her to a table. “Come sit and we’ll talk.” It was clear that she’d been with Cisco. But the rogue hadn’t fucked her. Interesting. ****

Michael watched from a distance as Edward plied the woman with booze and attention. She was becoming less controlled as the champagne was pushed on her. Michael had expected to see Cisco come through the door at any minute, but he hadn’t, and when it looked like Edward was going to be carrying the woman out, he bit the bullet and made the call. Cisco was home. “Kensington had just dumped a bottle of the Dom down your woman and is herding her towards the door.” “Follow him. Don’t lose her, Michael,” he warned. There was something in Cisco’s voice that Michael 34

Madison Foxe had never heard before. It sounded like fear. **** Cisco spun through the city, the red Lamborghini pouring through the streets like blood, guided by Michael from the cell. “I think he’s on his way to the marina,” Michael said. **** Edward clasped the Innocent under his arm and carried her to the waiting speedboat. He had called ahead when he first saw her walk in the door, unable to believe the perfection of the timing. He had three buyers, willing to pay top dollar, already waiting out at his home on the island. The soon-to-be-bitch was near transition. He could smell it, her chemicals jumping around in her body like static electricity. It was stimulating, and he knew his clients were going to go crazy. It would be a bidding frenzy, but he needed her clean. The scent of another wolf glazed over her pussy would draw nothing but flies. **** Edward’s boat had left the harbor by the time Cisco pulled up next to Michael. “I’ve arranged a boat for you. It’s fast, and we’re just waiting for the driver to show,” Michael informed him. 35

The Innocent “Fuck the driver,” Cisco said, running down the dock. The key was in the ignition. “Free the lines,” he commanded, starting the engine, pulling away from the moor as Michel tossed the last rope into the rear of the boat. Cisco hit the throttle, the engine building power as it sent the cigarette over the water like a missile on a mission. **** Edward edged into dock and waved the waiting attendants in. “Take this bitch and clean her up. She’s drugged, so don’t spend a lot of time waiting for a reaction from her. I want the scent of wolf off her in less then a half hour. Where are my guests?” He smiled, looking towards the house as the woman was taken the opposite direction. **** Cisco was taking a risk by leaving the harbor with nothing but instinct to guide him. He could not take a chance that she would be sold, compromised and squired away someplace, lost to all, before he reached her. His heart pounded in his chest, pumping the blood through his veins, the primal soul on the edge of release. Soon, you bastard, he thought to himself, feeding the frenzy as he steered the speedboat over the water. He followed the moon, and her essence. 36

Madison Foxe

Chapter Six Catalin emerged from the bedroom, she had When been soaped, buffed, and was now naked under a

robe, and nearly sober. She was more confused than loaded, and when she saw Edward, she wanted to embrace him, expecting some explanation. He welcomed her beneath his wing. “Come my little dove. I want you to meet some of my friends.” “Not like this,” she protested, pulling the collar of the robe up around her neck. She was so confused. Her blood boiled at the edge of something she couldn’t understand, and the only familiar face in this new world was skewed with deceit. Edward guided her into a salon, where a fire burned in one corner and three unknown men traced her body with their eyes. She gripped Edward’s arm for solace. “No, little bird. Fly out into the room and let these fine gentlemen examine your wares,” he said shaking her from his arm. One bulbous man lifted his nose to the air. “My God, Kensington, this little breeder is going into heat.” “And still virgin by wolf standards,” Edward said. He shoved Catalin toward the red-faced lush. 37

The Innocent “Come here, my beauty.” The man grabbed her and pulled her into his lap. “Do you feel that Were cock against your pussy, baby?” Catalin thought she was going to vomit. “Don’t hog the merchandise,” another man said, stepping from the shadows. “I want to see if the pedigree is as good as it looks.” And the bidding began. Catalin was touched, pinched, sucked and groped in more places then she cared to have recognized, and the bile in her throat lingered just below the edge. She didn’t understand what was going on, and her body was beginning to ache, like over-worked muscles. She wanted to close her eyes and die. Francisco’s image kept surfacing in her mind, in and out like a dream nearly forgotten . **** He saw the lights from the island, bright like a lone star in the heavens guiding a tired ship. The threads in his throat constricted with fear and loathing. Catalin was somewhere out there, lost in the dark waiting for the howl of the wolf to guide her. He shut down the lights, letting the nose of the slender module edge into the shore just under a paddle. He sniffed the air. She was here. He stripped himself of his clothing. This would be to the death. Kensington had crossed the line. Under shadow, Cisco trailed the outline of the structure where the lights burned. Catalin was not 38

Madison Foxe there, but he recognized the odor of squalid men with oozing dicks. He sniffed again. Catalin? **** Catalin had been groped for the last time, and feigned confusion as she saw a crack in a door to the rear of the room. That would be her escape. Something that felt like self-preservation suddenly claimed her mind and body. A gray man with large fingers reached for her. She smiled. “Want to touch?” “Very much.” His lip curled. “I want you, too.” She sidled near him, tossing a lure. “But not here.” “Where?” “Back there,” she lifted her chin to the crack in the door. **** When Cisco saw Edward’s image through the window, he felt his fingers curl and the stab of knives reaching through his skin. It was too soon. To change, to challenge, was a matter of timing, and Cisco was not ready to bend. **** Catalin touched the fat chin and squeezed. “Come 39

The Innocent with me.” She smiled, turning a hip his direction. The man looked around. His competitors were in negotiation, and he was now offered a sampler. He let his thick tongue slide over his lips like a sausage. “Lead the way.” Catalin opened the door and turned easily, bringing her knee into the man’s crotch, his gasp buying enough time to give her the distance she needed to disappear into the darkness. **** Cisco felt his cock clench. The scent of her swept the air like a mystery. He couldn’t decide whether it was real, or want. **** Catalin was running, her fear of capture mounting with each stride. There was no way off the rock of horror, and no way beyond the density of the night. Her body began to slow, like a dream, her world as she knew it beginning to collapse. The length of her run expanded, her legs shortened. Fear fueled the transition and she felt the power she was gaining, while at the same time giving something else up, something of comfort. **** Edward caught the change. She was out and running, but he wasn’t concerned. There was no place for her 40

Madison Foxe to go. The little bitch would just wear herself out. All the better. “Gentlemen,” he snarled, “we are witness to the hottest moment any Were could experience. The virgin wolf’s crossing over, and she’s in heat. Does it get any better?” As he’d hoped, the glands salivated and the bidding went up. **** Cisco wanted Kensington dead. But desire alone was not enough to fuel a transition for the kill. It was a total possession of beast over man, taking the civilized mind over the edge into the primal abyss. It transported the man beyond the line of sanity to a place where the psyche divided, reason overshadowed by instinct. The man would become a spectator to an experience that ran like a horrific Technicolor film in surround sound Though the transition was quick, man to wolf in minutes, it was a mutation he never entered into lightly. **** Edward caught the scent of aggression and looked to the window at the same time the wolf broke through the glass like a grisly nightmare. The clients ran for cover, surprise taking everyone but Edward. He had expected the Were, almost invited him. But he hadn’t expected him so soon. He wasn’t ready. 41

The Innocent Edward ran to the back of the house and locked himself behind a door, stripping his clothes as he moved. He needed to shift or he’d be dead in seconds.

42

Madison Foxe

Chapter Seven hurled himself through the solid wood panel, Cisco the power of hate detonating the beast as the two

wolves ripped and tore through fur, muscle and bone, splattering the house in blood. They were evenly matched pound for pound, mutual experience in the fight making each a worthy opponent for the other. But Cisco had one advantage over Edward that would bring the wolf down. He had an unshakable resolve. Cisco was the only thing that stood between Catalin and hell. Like a world in slow motion, the two wolves collided in mid-air, fangs targeting the throat. Edward made the first hit, and Cisco twisted over the floor, but his artery had been missed. Teeth bared, the Alpha males growled and snarled, spewing froth that littered the air like wet snow. Fierce jaws clamped over Edward’s muzzle, Cisco using the position to twist the wolf to the floor, the heaving Dominant forced into a submissive position beneath Cisco’s legs. Edward ripped his snout from Cisco’s teeth, leaving a chuck of his pelt dangling from his enemy’s 43

The Innocent jaw. Cisco shook the debris from his mouth and lunged before the wolf had time to regain his balance, coming at Edward from behind, tearing through his neck until it was nearly severed. There would be no time for healing before the Were’s life-force had poured out into the carpet. Wounded, though his injuries were not lifethreatening, Cisco shot out into the forest to pick up Catalin’s scent. But she was amok, her trail confusing, as if she scattered herself different directions, dazed, lost. Cisco shook the blood from his eyes, fell back on his haunches and began to howl, the call of the beast a message that he hoped she would hear. **** Catalin needed to survive, but she couldn’t grasp what the instinct meant. Her thoughts shattered as she felt her mind and body separating. Somewhere in the distance she heard a call, like a voice in a memory. She turned to it, compelled to follow, but she was weak. **** When Cisco saw her emerge from the trees, Catalin was dragging herself over the dirt on her belly. He shifted from the torn and bruised Were body, which was now beginning to heal, the power of the Lycan life-force relentless. Once back on his feet, Cisco was at her side. There was fear in her eyes as he rolled her over, checking to 44

Madison Foxe see if she was hurt anywhere, using his voice to ease the shudders from her body. He needed to bring her back before she joined her father in the ‘wild’. He called to her, repeating her name, using his voice as a guide to help her sort her way through the shadows of the known and unknown. “Come back to me, Catalin. Use your will to survive as power to remember who you are,” he soothed, his hands stroking her ears, looking for a sign of recognition in her eyes. She whimpered, and he continued to call her forward. **** Catalin knew the voice. It was comforting. She relaxed. There was a distant light in the far reaches of her mind and she moved toward it, picking up speed as her thoughts began to collect. At first it was no more than a formless shadow hovering just beyond her view, but she felt no fear as she rushed to meet it. And then there he was, the voice in her dreams. **** Cisco watched the gentle transition and fell back on the dirt, relieved. She had made it through. “Catalin,” he said, touching her cheek gently. “Look at me.” She slowly opened her eyes and reached out her arms. “Hold me, please.” He swept her up from the dirt. Her body molded 45

The Innocent against him and he willed his energy into her. Grateful lips kissed her face, her hair, her shoulders, as he carried her to the house. He rested her easily over the grass before retrieving the robe she had lost during her flight from the house. Cisco dressed quickly, noting that both speedboats were gone, guests and workers abandoning the rock without pause. **** Catalin walked towards Cisco, steady but slow. She leaned on his arm, warmed by the blatant affection on his face. “Thank you,” she said. He furrowed his brows. “For what?” “For coming to my rescue.” He hugged her, dropping a kiss to her nose. “What do we do now?” she asked. He nodded to the yacht anchored several hundred feet off shore. “We take Edward’s boat back to the mainland.” “Where is Edward?” “Gone. And, he won’t be coming back.” **** Cisco pulled the jet-ski into the water and they motored out to the yacht. Once aboard and underway, Catalin had excused herself to shower, wanting to wash the island from her body. Cisco allowed her privacy. She had been through 46

Madison Foxe hell, and needed some time to herself, to ground. **** Catalin stared at herself in the mirror. Cisco had explained as best he could what had happened and why, but the words were alien. He had told her to go to the mirror and stare past her eyes until new images surfaced, images of her and it. Catalin couldn’t see anything. She didn’t want to see anything. She didn’t believe there was anything to see. But Francisco had been serious. Her father had been a Werewolf. Francisco was a Werewolf, and now here she was suddenly one too. She burst out laughing.

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The Innocent

Chapter Eight giggles from below deck proved to Cisco Catalin’s that she had yet to convince herself that what she

had experienced, and what he had told her, was true. Her acceptance of who she was integral to the psychological fusion between her dual natures. Resistance to recognition would only shatter her tenuous stability in a matter of days. There was only one way. He shut down the engine and pushed the button releasing the anchor. **** Catalin heard the engines come to a stop and Cisco’s feet on the stairs. She quickly shook her hair from the towel. When he stopped outside the bedroom in the salon to call to her, his voice was firm. “Come here, Catalin.” He was stripping from his pants when she came out of the room, and her eyes were drawn to his huge cock. “You want to finish what we started earlier this evening?” she asked. He grinned. “Do you trust me?” “With my life.” 48

Madison Foxe “But you don’t believe what I have told you.” She couldn’t answer. “Don’t be afraid,” he said, laying his head back on his shoulders, his body already beginning to shift. Catalin stepped back and dropped onto the couch. There it was. The personification of a memory in a form her senses had a difficult time accepting. Yet she was not afraid. The connection between her soul and the image of the beast in front of her was absolute. She ran to the mirror. It was her face. Her hair. Her eyes. But there was something more. The view was subtle at first. It came like a whisper waiting for an invitation to be heard. The desire to be seen, to be integrated, reached through her. What had been tormenting her being now was familiar, as familiar as the man/beast in the next room. The sense of unity was staggering, and tears welled in her eyes. This time she saw, she felt, she embraced. Cisco stood in the doorway. “What do you see?” “My birthright.” He smiled. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” “Incredible.” He reached for her. His hand gripped her wrist, the strength in his fingers sending tremors up her arm. His cocked swelled to what seemed ten times its size as her body brushed by his. He led her to the bed. “Now we finish what we started,” he said, peeling the robe from her shoulders as he teased her mouth with his tongue and tugged on her lips. Her hands ran up the hard ridge of his sides and molded around his back, arching herself to him, 49

The Innocent wanting to be inhaled. She was as hungry as he for the connection, the bond, the ritual of the mate. Cisco groaned, pushing his stiff cock against her sex, the engorged head rolling over her downy belly. The scent between them was inebriating, the glands of the two beasts shaking out pheromones and marking territory. Catalin moaned as his hand cupped her breast while the other ran up her spine and entangled in her hair. He kissed her hard, willing her mouth open with his tongue, searching for hers even as he coaxed it from her, dragging it between his jaws, sucking wildly, forcing the sap to the root. Her pussy lurched with the surge, sending juice over her thighs. “Spread you legs,” he growled as his fingers raced down to her pussy. She widened her stance, giving access, wanting to be invaded by the needy digits. Cisco ran one finger around the edge of the orifice, teasing, then slipped the tip in slowly. He groaned. “You are so wet.” He pulled the honey stained finger from her slit and ran the liqueur across her mouth. “Now let me taste,” he said, running his sandy tongue over the bruise, stroking the dew until she was driven mad. Cisco set one thigh between her legs and rubbed his cock around her hip as she humped the muscled limb, her clit banging over the granite, readying the moment when he would finally give her what she had been waiting for. “Fuck me,” she whimpered. “I want it now.” 50

Madison Foxe “Soon,” he promised. He twisted her around and pushed her over the bed, his tongue now trailing over the cheeks of her ass and down to her pussy, catching the rivulets as they flowed out of her. “Oh, God,” she groaned as his mouth began to suck the labia petals gently, nipping the outer lips of her vagina. Cisco turned around and laid his neck on the mattress, grabbed the cheeks of her ass and pulled them in over him, his tongue moving into the den a breath at a time. Catalin was near orgasm, her body burning, rising to the crest on the edge of the wave. “Please,” she stammered. He twisted her back to the bed with a sweep of movement, his cock leering over her, ready to penetrate. Catalin raised her hips, trying to pull him into her, and he groaned once before he thrust. He lifted her from the bed under the force, the beast taking rights, and she screamed in ecstasy of the moment. He filled her, and her space widened to accommodate the wonderful invasion. Catalin pushed herself up and over him, dragging the beast into her depths. “Don’t move,” he begged. “I can’t focus.” Catalin was too close to the edge to give in now, and she began to rock into him. When the wave overcame her, she saw colors, her body convulsing under the power as Cisco disappeared into the void, shaking from the explosion. 51

The Innocent **** He was off to the side of her body when he finally raised his head. “I want you as my mate,” he said. Catalin grinned. “I want you, too.” He growled, turned, and ran sharp teeth over her body, the tattoo permanent and unchallengeable. The End

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About the Author Madison Foxe is a Jungian-oriented psychotherapist on sabbatical from her practice.