Page 18 of The Sanguine Selection
A twig snaps from behind me, and a rush of adrenaline surges through me as I gather up my skirts and run. Suddenly, I see the world with crystal clarity, and the pain I once felt is completely blotted out by the fear now coursing through my veins.
More branches break, and I realize the sound is coming from above me. Whatever is hunting me is up in the trees. Terror spikes through me, and my feet stumble in the snow. My hands whip out to break my fall, and they sink into the cold expanse of white.
Something crashes into the tree to my right, and the entire trunk shudders with the force of it causing snow to cascade down from the disturbed branches. I glance up as a howl rends the air, and I know it's the wolf man coming back to eat me at last.
I’m barely able to make out his form in the inky black of the night, but it's enough for me to see his head tipped back, his arms out-stretched, his claws curled inward. And it spurs me into action.
Run, Oxana, run!
Turning blind into the blowing snow, I race away. My heart pounds in my chest, which is tight and uncomfortable from the cold air and exertion, but I don’t stop. Not for a second, not to even catch my breath.
My effort is wasted because seconds later, the creature is upon me, knocking me deep into the snow. Though it looks soft and fluffy, the snow does nothing to soften the blow, and as I slam on my stomach, air whooshes from my lungs, expelling past my lips in a painful wheeze.
I tremble under the warmth of the beast’s furred body. He howls, the sound loud and triumphant, piercing my ears. I whimper, burying my face in the snow, and clamp a hand on either side of my head to drown it out.
He paws my back, and I tense, waiting for the slashing agony of his claws cutting into my flesh, but after a moment, I realize none is coming. Instead, he hooks the hood of my mother’s dress hanging over Papa’s coat and tugs. My spine bows back, arching my neck in invitation.
The thing curls a hand around my throat, squeezing lightly. There’s just enough pressure to give the impression of the beast’s strength, and it’s a thousand times more menacing than if he simply strangled me to death.
Soft puffs of hot air tickle my ear where the creature pants, and I wonder if perhaps he’s out of breath. As if in answer, the giant wolf-man rolls off my back and onto his side. I stare in disbelief before dashing off again. Behind me, the beast makes a strange chuffing noise.
I don’t even make it to the next tree trunk before his massive body slams back into mine, knocking me down once more. Dread pools in my stomach, and I kick out blindly. The creature yelps as my foot connects and he releases me, but when I try to escape, he yanks on the long length of my hair. I tumble back, falling in a heap at his feet.
He chuffs again, and I realize he’slaughing. White-hot rage transforms my fear into something less debilitating. This time, I don’t flail carelessly but with the intent to hurt the furred monster. Although innocent, Papa told me where to aim to hurt a man, and even though this beast isn’t human, he’s still all male.
Lashing out with my left foot, I miss the spot between his legs, instead landing against the hard planes of his fur-covered stomach. It’s enough to garner a reaction, and the wolf-man growls, but he doesn’t attack me like I expected—he moans.
That’s it. I’m done.
I attempt to scoot away but he quickly grabs hold of me, yanking me towards him, encasing my hips with his thick thighs, tutting as he does. “You want to play rough, pretty little thing? Because I sure fucking do.”
He snarls out his words, pushing them past gnashing teeth and a quivering snout. I’m half horrified and half awestruck, wondering how it’s even possible for him to form speech. Catching me staring, he bares his fangs and I gulp, convinced this is where I meet my demise, but he just takes my hand and flattens it against him.
My eyes are shut so tightly, I don’t see where he places my palm, but wherever it is, I feel skin, not fur. My stupid curiosity gets the better of me, and I pry one eyelid open to sneak a peek. It’s almost too dark to see, but my gaze homes in on my hand tucked against something long and hard.
I jerk back with a screech, making the wild beast guffaw at my expense. My body flushes with embarrassment with the knowledge of what I touched, and the wolf-man rumbles out another laugh before taking my hand back.
This time, when he forces me to touch him, he keeps his furred hand covering mine, his long claws imprisoning my much smaller fingers. The blush staining my cheeks intensifies, and I hold my breath against the clamor of fear blossoming inside of me.
The beast grins, baring razor sharp teeth as his tongue comes to loll out the side of his gaping muzzle. After a moment, he jerks my hand up, only to slam it back down. He repeats this over and over, faster than I can blink or even comprehend what’s happening.
Something foreign sparks inside of me at the sounds the creature makes. His chest rumbles as he exhales harshly, his howls growing more and more gruff. And then it’s over. The beast stiffens, as if wounded, and something sticky and wet spurts between my fingers.
I pull back, confused, staring down at my hand. Thick white cream coats my pale skin, and I bring it closer to my face to inspect. The wolf-man reacts faster than I can blink, snaking out an arm to grip my wrist, moving my palm mere inches from my face.
“Lick it.” He barks out this command, startling me. I shake my head, denying his request, and his other arm shoots out of the dark to push me back until I’m lying in the snow. He pins my neck down, applying more pressure than the last time.
“Lick it. Now.” Tentatively, I flick out my tongue, tasting just the smallest amount of the strange substance. To my surprise, it’s saltier than even preserved meat, and not as heavy as the cream I originally thought it might be.
He rocks against me, chest rumbling. “Good, isn’t it? Now, be a good little human, and eat up the rest. Then, I’m going to fuck your tight, little pussy and fill it up like I did your hand.”
His words don’t make sense, but my body rouses at his use of ‘fuck’, and I scowl at my reaction. Because it’s something naughty, something forbidden that sends a thrill through me. But this isn’t how Papa raised me, and I feel ashamed.
Why would this monster’s vulgar curses excite me?
Is there something wrong with me?
“But first, you’re going to run some more.” The beast’s announcement jars me, and I inhale sharply as it dawns on me the feral man is taunting me—has been this entire time—playing some sick game of cat and mouse.
